70 THE EARLY DAYS OF 



heart, woefully rued the time when we saw the old Kingfisher fly 

 out. 



The rustics in the neighbourhood soon found out that birds' eggs 

 possessed commercial value ; and on market days they would 

 assemble at the corner of the town not out of bounds, and expose 

 their wares for sale, whilst we, expecting to find them there, directly 

 we were released from school had an exciting race in order to get 

 first pick of anything curious or rare. I was very fleet of foot, my 

 heart was also in the race, and these combined generally secured 

 me first or second place. On arrival at the gates we had to turn 

 a very acute corner of the road towards the town, and seizing the 

 iron railings we swung ourselves round, with hardly any abatement 

 of our headlong speed. On reaching our goal where the rustics 

 stood, we took a rapid glance at every nest exposed to view, and I 

 soon became very expert in detecting any 0.^% worth buying. But 

 fraud was often rampant and spurious goods were brought. For 

 wherever there is demand there is pretty sure to be supply. 



On my table is an heirloom, in the shape of a small oil-lamp, 

 which when the century was young, my father, after performing the 

 grand tour, brought back with him from Pompeii ; and in my 

 youthful days it was often the subject for a lecture, which I listened 

 to with great interest not unmixed with awe. The sudden burst of 

 the volcano ; the terror of the people who lived below. What a 

 tale that lamp could tell if it could only speak ! Perhaps it lighted 

 up the face of some early Christian who had listened to St. Paul. 

 And after lying in the ground for nearly two thousand years, had 

 found a resting place in our village here. Regarding its genuineness 

 of course there could be no doubt, for there was the round hole 

 made by the pick-axe which unearthed it. 



In after years when I was performing the grand tour myself; on 

 arrival at Pompeii, my guide with a mysterious air, drew out the 

 exact counterpart of my heirloom, evidently cast in the same mould, 

 probably at Birmingham, for there was the same round hole. 

 " Cosmogony, and the creation of the world," rose up before me, as 



