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remember I valued them so little that I kept them in 

 an old double Canar}^ breeding-cage, hung up on a 

 wall ; and they used to race wildly up and down all 

 day, trying, I suppose, to find their way back to 

 Australia. They lived long, and at last died in a 

 good old age. I had no idea they would breed, and so 

 never gave them a chance. I would far sooner, in 

 those days, have had a good Canary ! I feel inclined 

 sometimes now, as I think of my folly, to say with the 

 Saint of old, ' O sancta simplicitas ! ' When the last 

 died, I believe I was rather glad to be relieved of the 

 trouble of attending to their modest wants. If only 

 I had them now, not all the wealth of Golconda 

 would tempt me to part with them ; but, as the Arabs 

 say, there are three things which never return- -the 

 sped arrow, the spoken word, and the lost opportunity. 

 I had my opportunity and I — threw it away. 



Years passed before I had another chance, and I 

 must confess I did not deserve it. Then one day I 

 got a letter from Sir Henry Boynton, offering me two 

 pairs of young Turquoisines. The price was fairly 

 stiff, but what did that matter? To succeed you 

 must not consider what is right or wrong, but only 

 what is expedient. There are only two classes of men 

 that can afford to be high-minded — the Millionaire 

 and the Beggar. I belong to the latter category. 



Money never seems to me an actuality unless 

 reckoned by its products, merely being, according to 

 its volume— so much food, so many birds, or perchance 

 a coveted bit of land or a horse, consequently a com- 

 modity not to be hoarded, but to be immediately sent 

 out to fulfil its destiny. For as long as j^ou keep 

 money it yields nothing but worry, the current rate o 

 interest being simply beneath contempt. On the 

 other hand, you buy birds as you buy food, one eats 

 the other, there is no waste, but satisfaction and good 



