ed to exhibit, which was not always,
for genius is capricious--his earnings formed an important item in the
common stock. Indeed, the bird himself appeared to know his value well;
for though he was perfectly free and unrestrained in the presence of
Barnaby and his mother, he maintained in public an amazing gravity,
and never stooped to any other gratuitous performances than biting
the ankles of vagabond boys (an exercise in which he much delighted),
killing a fowl or two occasionally, and swallowing the dinners of
various neighbouring dogs, of whom the boldest held him in great awe and
dread.

Time had glided on in this way, and nothing had happened to disturb or
change their mode of life, when, one summer's night in June, they were
in their little garden, resting from the labours of the day. The widow's
work was yet upon her knee, and strewn upon the ground about her; and
Barnaby stood leaning on his spade, gazing at the brightness in the
west, and singing softly to himself.

'A brave evening, mother! If we had, chinking in our pockets, but a few
specks of that gold which is piled up yonder in the sky, we should be
rich for life.'

'We are better as we are,' returned the widow with a quiet smile. 'Let
us be contented, and we do not want and need not care to have it, though
it lay shining at our feet.'

'Ay!' said Barnaby, resting with crossed arms on his spade, and looking
wistfully at the sunset, that's well enough, mother; but gold's a good
thing to have. I wish that I knew where to find it. Grip and I could do
much with gold, be sure of that.'

'What would you do?' she asked.

'What! A world of things. We'd dress finely--you and I, I mean; not
Grip--keep horses, dogs, wear bright colours and feathers, do no more
work, live delicately and at our ease. Oh, we'd find uses for it,
mother, and uses that would do us good. I would I knew where gold was
buried. How hard I'd work to dig it up!'

'You do not know,' said his mother, rising from her seat and laying her
hand upon his shoulder, 'what men have done to win it, and how they have
found, too late, that it glitters brightest at a distance, and turns
quite dim and dull when handled.'

'Ay, ay; so you say; so you think,' he answered, still looking eagerly
in the same direction. 'For all that, mother, I should like to try.'

'Do you not see,' she said, 'how red it is? Nothing bears so many stains
of blood, as gold. Avoid it. None have such cause to hate its nam