her beautiful brown curls hung like wires of gold from the small head,
and her soft, tender little figure grew stiff in his arms.

Midas had often said to people that his little daughter was worth her
weight in gold, and it had become really true. Now when it was too
late, he felt how much more precious was the warm tender heart that
loved him than all the gold that could be piled up between the earth
and sky.

He began to wring his hands and to wish that he was the poorest man in
the wide world, if the loss of all his money might bring back the rosy
color to his dear child's face.

While he was in despair he suddenly saw a stranger standing near the
door, the same visitor he had seen yesterday for the first time in his
treasure-room, and who had granted his wish.

"Well, friend Midas," he said, "pray how are you enjoying your new
power?"

Midas shook his head. "I am very miserable," he said.

"Very miserable, are you?" exclaimed the stranger. "And how does that
happen: have I not faithfully kept my promise; have you not everything
that your heart desired?"

"Gold is not everything," answered Midas, "and I have lost all that my
heart really cared for."

"Ah!" said the stranger, "I see you have made some discoveries since