He made it his custom,
therefore, to pass a large portion of every day in a dark and
dreary apartment, under ground, at the basement of his palace. It
was here that he kept his wealth. To this dismal hole--for it was
little better than a dungeon--Midas betook himself, whenever he
wanted to be particularly happy.
Here, after carefully locking the door, he would take a bag of
gold coin, or a gold cup as big as a washbowl, or a heavy golden
bar, or a peck measure of gold dust, and bring them from the
obscure corners of the room into the one bright and narrow
sunbeam that fell from the dungeonlike window. He valued the
sunbeam for no other reason but that his treasure would not shine
without its help.
And then would he reckon over the coins in the bag; toss up the
bar, and catch it as it came down; sift the gold dust through his
fingers;` look at the funny image of his own face, as reflected
in the burnished circumference of the cup; and whisper to
himself, "O Midas, rich King Midas, what a happy man art thou!"
II.
Midas was enjoying himself in his treasure room, one day, as
usual, when he perceived a shadow fall over the heaps of gold;
and, looking up, he beheld the figure of a stranger, standing in
the bright and narrow sunbeam! It was a young man, with a
cheerful and ruddy face.
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