ent him, and summoning her utmost fortitude, passed into the recess,
and brought it out herself.

'Mother,' said Barnaby, looking at her steadfastly as she sat down
beside him after doing so; 'is to-day my birthday?'

'To-day!' she answered. 'Don't you recollect it was but a week or so
ago, and that summer, autumn, and winter have to pass before it comes
again?'

'I remember that it has been so till now,' said Barnaby. 'But I think
to-day must be my birthday too, for all that.'

She asked him why? 'I'll tell you why,' he said. 'I have always seen
you--I didn't let you know it, but I have--on the evening of that day
grow very sad. I have seen you cry when Grip and I were most glad; and
look frightened with no reason; and I have touched your hand, and felt
that it was cold--as it is now. Once, mother (on a birthday that was,
also), Grip and I thought of this after we went upstairs to bed, and
when it was midnight, striking one o'clock, we came down to your door to
see if you were well. You were on your knees. I forget what it was you
said. Grip, what was it we heard her say that night?'

'I'm a devil!' rejoined the raven promptly.

'No, no,' said Barnaby. 'But you said something in a prayer; and when
you rose and walked about, you looked (as you have done ever since,
mother, towards night on my birthday) just as you do now. I have found
that out, you see, though I am silly. So I say you're wrong; and this
must be my birthday--my birthday, Grip!'

The bird received this information with a crow of such duration as a
cock, gifted with intelligence beyond all others of his kind, might
usher in the longest day with. Then, as if he had well considered the
sentiment, and regarded it as apposite to birthdays, he cried, 'Never
say die!' a great many times, and flapped his wings for emphasis.

The widow tried to make light of Barnaby's remark, and endeavoured to
divert his attention to some new subject; too easy a task at all times,
as she knew. His supper done, Barnaby, regardless of her entreaties,
stretched himself on the mat before the fire; Grip perched upon his
leg, and divided his time between dozing in the grateful warmth, and
endeavouring (as it presently appeared) to recall a new accomplishment
he had been studying all day.

A long and profound silence ensued, broken only by some change of
position on the part of Barnaby, whose eyes were still wide open and
intently fixed upon the fire; or by an effort of recoll