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humble household。 Partly by dint of Barnaby’s tuition； and partly
by pursuing a species of self…instruction common to his tribe； and
exerting his powers of observation to the utmost； he had acquired
a degree of sagacity which rendered him famous for miles round。
His conversational powers and surprising performances were the
universal theme： and as many persons came to see the wonderful
raven； and none left his exertions unrewarded—when he
condescended 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
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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。’
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‘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
name as we have。 Do not so much as think of it； dear love。 It has
brought such misery and suffering on your head and mine as few
have known； and God grant few may have to undergo。 I would
rather we were dead and laid down in our graves； than you should
ever come to love it。’
For a moment Barnaby withdrew his eyes and looked at her
with wonder。 Then； glancing from the redness in the sky to the
mark upon his wrist as if he would compare the two； he seemed
about to question her with earnestness； when a new object caught
his wandering attention； and made him quite forgetful of his
purpose。
This was a man with dusty feet and garments； who stood； bare…
headed； behind the hedge that divided their patch of garden from
the pathway； and leant meekly forward as if he sought to mingle
with their conversation； and waited for his time to speak。 His face
was turned towards the brightness； too； but the light that fell upon
it showed that he was blind； and saw it not。
‘A blessing on those voices！’ said the wayfarer。 ‘I feel the beauty
of the night more keenly； when I hear them。 They are like eyes to
me。 Will they speak again； and cheer the heart of a poor traveller？’
‘Have you no guide？’ asked the widow； after a moment’s pause。
‘None but that；’ he answered； pointing with his staff towards
the sun； ‘and sometimes a milder one at night； but she is idle now。’
‘Have you travelled far？’
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‘A weary way and long；’ rejoined the traveller as he shook his
head。 ‘A weary； weary； way。 I struck my stick just now upon the
bucket of your well—be pleased to let me have a draught of water；
lady。’
‘Why do you call me lady？’ she returned。 ‘I am as poor as you。’
‘Your speech is soft and gentle； and I judge by that；’ replied the
man。 ‘The coarsest stuffs and finest silks； are—apart from the
sense of touch—alike to me。 I cannot judge you by your dress。’
‘Come round this way；’ said Barnaby； who had passed out at the
garden…gate and now stood close beside him。 ‘Put your hand in
mine。 You’re blind and always in the dark； eh？ Are you frightened
in the dark？ Do you see great crowds of faces； now？ Do they grin
and chatter？’
‘Alas！’ returned the other； ‘I see nothing。 Waking or sleeping；
nothing。’
Barnaby looked curiously at his eyes； and touching them with
his fingers； as an inquisitive child might； led him towards the
house。
‘You have come a long distance； ‘said the widow； meeting him
at the door。 ‘How have you found your way so far？’
‘Use and necessity are good teachers； as I have heard—the best
of any；’ said the blind man； sitting down upon the chair to which
Barnaby had led him； and putting his hat and stick upon the red…
tiled floor。 ‘May neither you nor your son ever learn under them。
They are rough masters。’
‘You have wandered from the road； too；’ said the widow； in a
tone of pity。
‘Maybe； maybe；’ returned the blind man with a sigh； and yet
with something of a smile upon his face； ‘that’s likely。 Handposts
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and milestones are dumb； indeed； to me。 Thank you the more for
this rest； and this refreshing drink！’
As he spoke； he raised the mug of water to his mouth。 It was
clear； and cold； and sparkling； but not to his taste nevertheless； or
his thirst was not very great； for he only wetted his lips and put it
down again。
He wore； hanging with a long strap round his neck； a kind of
scrip or wallet； in which to carry food。 The widow set some bread
and cheese before him； but he thanked her； and said that through
the kindness of the charitable he had broken his fast once since
morning； and was not hungry。 When he had made her this reply；
he opened his wallet； and took out a few pence； which was all it
appeared to contain。
‘Might I make bold to ask；’ he said； turning towards where
Barnaby stood looking on； ‘that one who has the gift of sight；
would lay this out for me in bread to keep me on my way？
Heaven’s blessing on the young feet that will bestir themselves in
aid of one so helpless as a sightless man！’
Barnaby looked at his mother； who nodded assent； in another
moment he was gone upon his charitable errand。 The blind man
sat listening with an attentive face； unti