THE PLEASURE OF THE FANCY. g 



purchase ? I fear not as much enjoyment as 

 the Spitalfield's weaver gets out of his pigeons 

 when he flies a kit of Rollers in the murky 

 atmosphere of East London. There was too 

 much of social rivalry and commercial competi- 

 tion in the Baron's big purchase for it to give 

 an adequate supply of heart's-ease. It fed his 

 pride — the pride of knowing that he had out- 

 bid the world, and snatched the prize from 

 the wealthiest collectors. Pride is not happi- 

 ness. 



What a life of gilded misery old Stephen 

 Girard the American millionaire led ! Just 

 before he died he wrote thus to a friend — 

 " I live like a galley-slave, constantly occupied, 

 and often passing the night without sleep. I 

 am worn out with cares. I do not value my 

 fortune. When I rise in the morning my only 

 effort is to labour so hard during the day that 

 I may be able to sleep soundly at night." The 

 poor rich man had no time for recreation. He 

 was too busy to laugh. Life was solemn as 

 a funeral march to him. He needed some hobby 

 to come between him and his money-making to 

 relieve his mind and refresh his body. A friend 

 of mine, an old Fancier, during a pigeon chat 

 said to me, "If I get worried in business during 



