the fire or by the
cottage door, busy at work (for he had learnt the art his mother plied),
and listening, God help him, to the tales she would repeat, as a lure
to keep him in her sight. He had no recollection of these little
narratives; the tale of yesterday was new to him upon the morrow; but
he liked them at the moment; and when the humour held him, would remain
patiently within doors, hearing her stories like a little child, and
working cheerfully from sunrise until it was too dark to see.

At other times,--and then their scanty earnings were barely sufficient
to furnish them with food, though of the coarsest sort,--he would wander
abroad from dawn of day until the twilight deepened into night. Few
in that place, even of the children, could be idle, and he had no
companions of his own kind. Indeed there were not many who could have
kept up with him in his rambles, had there been a legion. But there were
a score of vagabond dogs belonging to the neighbours, who served his
purpose quite as well. With two or three of these, or sometimes with a
full half-dozen barking at his heels, he would sally forth on some
long expedition that consumed the day; and though, on their return at
nightfall, the dogs would come home limping and sore-footed, and almost
spent with their fatigue, Barnaby was up and off again at sunrise with
some new attendants of the same class, with whom he would return in like
manner. On all these travels, Grip, in his little basket at his master's
back, was a constant member of the party, and when they set off in fine
weather and in high spirits, no dog barked louder than the raven.

Their pleasures on these excursions were simple enough. A crust of bread
and scrap of meat, with water from the brook or spring, sufficed for
their repast. Barnaby's enjoyments were, to walk, and run, and leap,
till he was tired; then to lie down in the long grass, or by the growing
corn, or in the shade of some tall tree, looking upward at the light
clouds as they floated over the blue surface of the sky, and
listening to the lark as she poured out her brilliant song. There were
wild-flowers to pluck--the bright red poppy, the gentle harebell, the
cowslip, and the rose. There were birds to watch; fish; ants; worms;
hares or rabbits, as they darted across the distant pathway in the wood
and so were gone: millions of living things to have an interest in, and
lie in wait for, and clap hands and shout in memory of, when they h