Section 5

On a platform, within full view of the balcony, sat the mighty King Polydectes, amid his evil counsellors, and with his flattering courtiers in a semicircle round ‘about him. Monarch, counsellors, courtiers, and sub- jects, all gazed eagerly towards Perseus.
“¢ Show us the head! Show us the head!” shouted the people; and there was a fierceness in their cry as if they would tear Perseus to pieces, unless he should satisfy them with what he had to show. “Show us the head of Medusa with the snaky locks!”
A feeling of sorrow and pity came over the youthful Perseus.
48 THE GORGON’S HEAD.
“Q Kine Polydectes,” cried he, “and ye many people, I am very loath to show you the Gorgon’s head !”
“Ah, the villain and coward!” yelled the people, more fiercely than before. “He is making game of us! He has no Gorgon’s head! Show us the head, if you have it, or we will take your own head for @
football ! ” ;
The evil counsellors whispered bad advice in R | . king’s ear; the courtiers murmured, with one consent, that Perseus had shown disrespect to their royal lord and master; and the great King Polydectes himself waved his hand, and ordered him, with the stern, deep voice of authority, on his peril, to produce the head.
“‘ Show me the Gorgon’s head, or I will cut off your - own!”
And Perseus sighed.
“ This instant,” repeated Polydectes, “ or you die!”
“ Behold it, then!” cried Perseus, in a voice like the blast of a trumpet.
And, suddenly holding up the head, not an eyelid had time to wink before the wicked King Polydectes, his evil counsellors, and all his fierce subjects were no longer anything but the mere images of a monarch and his people. They were all fixed, forever, in the look and attitude of that moment! At the first glimpse of the terrible head of Medusa, they whitened into marble! And Perseus thrust the head back into ~ his wallet, and went to tell his dear mother that she need no longer be afraid of the wicked King Poly. dectes.
TANGLEWOOD PORCH. AFTER THE STORY.
“Was not that a very fine story?” asked Eustace.
“Oh yes, yes!” cried Cowslip, clapping her hands. “And those funny old women, with only one eye amongst them! JI never heard of anything so strange.”
“ As to their one tooth, which they shifted about,” observed Primrose, “there was nothing so very won- derful in that. I suppose it was a false tooth. But think of your turning Mercury into Quicksilver, and talking about bis sister! You are too ridiculous!”
“ And was she not his sister?” asked Eustace Bright. “If I had thought of it sooner, I would have described her as a maiden lady, who kept a pet owl!”
“ Weil, at any rate,” said Primrose, “ your story seems to have driven away the mist.”
And, indeed, while the tale was going forward, the vapors had been quite exhaled from the iandscape. A scene was now disclosed which the spectators might almost fancy as having been created since they had last looked in the direction where it lay. About half a mile distant, in the lap of the valley, now appeared a beautiful lake, which reflected a perfect image of its own wooded banks, and of the summits of the more distant hills. It gleamed in glassy tranquillity, with-
out the trace of a winged breeze on any part of its
\
50 TANGLEWOOD PORCH.
bosom. Beyond its farther shore was Monument Mountain, in a recumbent position, stretching almost across the valley. Eustace Bright compared it to a huge, headless sphinx, wrapped in a Persian shawl; and, indeed, so rich and diversified was the autumnal foliage of its woods, that the simile of the shawl was by no means too high-colored for the reality. In the — lower ground, between Tanglewood and the lake, the clumps of trees and borders of woodland were chiefly golden-leaved or dusky brown, as having suffered more from frost than the foliage on the hill-sides.
Over all this scene there was a genial sunshine, in- termingled with a slight haze, which made it unspeak- ably soft and tender. Oh, what a day of Indian sum- mer was it going to be! The children snatched their baskets, and set forth, with hop, skip, and jump, and all sorts of frisks and gambols; while Cousin Eustace proved his fitness to preside over the party, by outdo- ing all their antics, and performing several new capers, which none of them could ever hope to imitate. Be- hind went a good old dog, whose name was Ben. He was one of the most respectable and kind-hearted of quadrupeds, and probably felt it to be his duty not to trust the children away from their parents without some better guardian than this feather-brained Eus- tace Bright.
THE GOLDEN TOUCH.
SHADOW BROOK. INTRODUCTORY TO “THE GOLDEN TOUCH.”
AT noon, our juvenile party assembled in a dell, through the depths of which ran a litile brook. The dell was narrow, and its steep sides, from the margin of the stream upward, were thickly set with trees, chiefly walnuts and chestnuts, among which grew a few oaks and maples. In the summer time, the shade of so many clustering branches, meeting and inter- mingling across the rivulet, was deep enough to pyro- duce a noontide twilight. Hence came the name of Shadow Brook. But now, ever since autumn had crept into this secluded place, all the dark verdure was changed to gold, so that it really kindled up the dell, instead of shading it. The bright yellow leaves, even had it been a cloudy day, would have seemed to keep the sunlight among them; and enough of them had fallen to strew all the bed and margin of the brook with sunlight, too. Thus the shady nook, where summer had cooled herself, was now the sunniest spot anywhere to be found.
The little brook ran along over its pathway of gold, here pausing to form a pool, in which minnows were darting to and fro; and then it hurried onward at a
52 SHADOW BROOK
swifter pace, as if in haste to reach the lake ; and, for- getting to look whither it went, it tumbled over the root of a tree, which stretched quite across its current, You would have laughed to hear how noisily it bab- bled about this accident. And even after it had run onward, the brook still kept talking to itself, as if it were in a maze. It was wonder-smitten, I suppose, at finding its dark dell so illuminated, and at hearing the prattle and merriment of so many children. So it stole away as quickly as it could, and hid itself in the lake.
In the dell of Shadow Brook, Eustace Bright and his little friends had eaten their dinner. They had brought plenty of good things from Tanglewood, in their baskets, and had spread them out on the stumps of trees, and on mossy trunks, and had feasted mer- vily, and made a very nice dinner indeed. After it “yas over, nobody felt like stirring.
“We will rest ourselves here,” said several of the children, ‘“‘ while Cousin Eustace tells us another of his pretty stories.”
Cousin Eustace had a good right to be tired, as well as the children, for he had performed great feats on that memorable forenoon. Dandelion, Clover, Cow- slip, and Buttercup were almost persuaded that he had winged slippers, like those which the Nymphs gave Perseus; so often had the student shown himself at the tiptop of a nut-tree, when only a moment before he had been standing on the ground. And then, what showers of walnuts had he sent rattling down upon their heads, for their busy little hands to gather into the baskets! In short, he had been as active as a squirrel or a monkey, and now, flinging himself down on the yellow leaves, seemed inclined to take a little rest
SHADOW BROOK. 538
But children have no mercy nor consideration for anybody's weariness; and if you had but a singh breath left, they would ask you to spend it in telling them a story.
“Cousin Eustace,” said Cowslip, “ that was a very nice story of the Gorgon’s Head. Do you think you vould tell us another as good?”
“Yes, child,” said Eustace, pulling the brim of his cap over his eyes, as if preparing foranap. “I can tell you a dozen, as good or better, if I choose.”
“Q Primrose and Periwinkle, do you hear what he says ?” cried Cowslip, dancing with delight. “ Cousin Eustace is going to tell us a dozen better stories than that about the Gorgon’s Head!”
“T did not promise you even one, you foolish little Cowslip!” said Eustace, half pettishly. ‘“ However, I suppose you must have it. This is the consequence of having earned a reputation! I wish I were a great deal duller than I am, or that I had never shown half the bright qualities with which nature has endowed me ; and then I might have my nap out, in peace and comfort !”
But Cousin Eustace, as I think I have hinted be- fore, was as fond of telling his stories as the children of hearing them. His mind was in a free and happy state, and took delight in its own activity, and scarcely required any external impulse to set it at work.
How different is this spontaneous play of the intel- lect from the trained diligence of maturer years, when toil has perhaps grown easy by long habit, and the day’s work may have become essential to the day’s comfort, although the rest of the matter has bubbled away! This remark, however, is not meant for the ehildren to hear.
54 SHADOW BROOK.
Without further solicitation, Eustace Bright pro- ceeded to tell the following really splendid story. It had come into his mind as he lay looking wpward into the depths of a tree, and observing how the touch of Autumn had transmuted every one of its green leaves into what resembled the purest gold. And this change, which we have all of us witnessed, is as Wone derful as anything that Eustace told about in the story of Midas.
Sah. Call
Oe eal
THE GOLDEN TOUCH.
Once upon a time, there lived a very rich man, and a king besides, whose name was Midas; and he had a little daughter, whom nobody but myself ever heard of, and whose name I either never knew, or have en- tirely forgotten. So, because I love odd names for little girls, I choose to call her Marygold.
This King Midas was fonder of gold than of any- thing else in the world. He valued his royal crown chiefly because it was composed of that precious metal. If he loved anything better, or half so well, it was the one little maiden who played so merrily around her
‘father’s footstool But the more Midas loved his
daughter, the more did he desire and seek for wealth. He thought, foolish man! that the best thing he could possibly do for this dear child would be to bequeath her the immensest pile of yellow, glistening coin, that had ever been heaped together since the world was made, Thus, he gave all his thoughts and all his time to this one purpose. If ever he happened to gaze for an instant at the gold-tinted clouds of sunset, he wished that they were real gold, and that they could be
squeezed safely into his strong box. When little
Marygold ran to met him, with 2 bunch of buttereups and dandelions, he used to say, “ Poh, poh, child! If these flowers were as golden as they look, they would
be worth the plucking! ”
yet, in his earlier days, before he was so en-
56 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.
Midas had shown a great taste for flowers. He had planted a garden, in which grew the biggest and beau- tifullest and sweetest roses that any mortal ever saw or smelt. These roses were still growing in the gar den, as large, as lovely, and as fragrant, as when Midas used to pass whole hours in gazing at them, and inhaling their perfume. But now, if he looked at them at all, it was only to calculate how much the garden would be worth if each of the innumerable rose- petals were a thin plate of gold. And though he once was fond of music (in spite of an idle story about his ears, which were said to resemble those of an ass), the only music for poor Midas, now, was the chink of one coin against another.
At length (as people always grow more and more foolish, unless they take care to grow wiser and wiser), Midas had got to be so exceedingly unreasonable, that he could scarcely bear to see or touch any object that was not gold. 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 pal- ace. It was here that he kept his wealth. To this dismal hole — for it was little better than a dun. geon — Midas betook himself, whenever he wanted * to be particularly happy. Here, after carefully lock- ing 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 dun- geon-like window. He valued the sunbeam for ne 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 if
,
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 57
rame 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 whis- per to himself, “ O Midas, rich King Midas, what a happy man art thou!” But it was laughable to see how the image of his face kept grinning at him, out of the polished surface of the cup. It seemed to be aware of his foolish behavior, and to have a naughty inclination to make fun of him.
Midas called himself a happy man, but felt that he was not yet quite so happy as he might be. The very tiptop of enjoyment would never be reached, unless the whole world were to become his treasure-room, and be filled with yellow metal which should be all his own.
Now, I need hardly remind such wise little people as you are, that in the old, old times, when King Mi- das was alive, a great many things came to pass, which we should consider wonderful if they were to happen in our own day and country. And, on the other hand, a great many things take place nowadays, which seem not only wonderful to us, but at which the people of old times would have stared their eyes out. On the whole, I regard our own times as the strangest of the two; but, however that may be, I must go on ~ with my story.
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 suddenly up, what should he behold but the figure of a stranger, standing in the bright and narrow sunbeam! It was a young man, with a cheerful and ruddy face. Whether it was that the imagination of King Midas threw a yellow tinge over everything, or whatever the
58 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.
cause might be, he could not help fancying that the smile with which the stranger regarded him had a kind of golden radiance in it. Certainly, although his figure intercepted the sunshine, there was now a brighter gleam upon all the piled-up treasures than be- fore. Even the remotest corners had their share of it, and were lighted up, when the stranger smiled, as with tips of flame and sparkles of fire.
As Midas knew that he had carefully turned the key in the lock, and that no mortal strength could possibly break into his treasure-room, he, of course, concluded that his visitor must be something more than mortal. It is no matter about tellmg you who he was. In those days, when the earth was com- paratively a new affair, it was supposed to be often the resort of beings endowed with supernatural power, and who used to interest themselves in the joys and sorrows of men, women, and children, half playfully and half seriously. Midas had met such beings before now, and was not sorry to meet one of them again. The stranger’s aspect, indeed, was so good-humored and kindly, if not beneficent, that it would have been unreasonable to suspect him of intending any mischief. It was far more probable that he came to do Midas a favor. And what could that favor be, unless to multi- ply his heaps of treasure ?
The stranger gazed about the room; and when his Justrous smile had glistened upon all the golden ob- jects that were there, he turned again to Midas.
“You are a wealthy man, friend Midas!” he ob- served. “IJ doubt whether any other four walls, on earth, contain so much gold as you have contrived to pile up in this room.”
“ T have done pretty well, — pretty well,” answered
THE GOLDEN TOUCH. 59
Midas, in a discontented tone. “ But, after all, it is but a trifle, when you consider that it has taken me my whole life to get it together. If one could live a thousand years, he might have time to grow rich!”