THE CAPTIVE.

PARIS.

HE bird in his cage pursued me into my

THE
room; I sat down close by

my table, and leaning my head upon my hand, I began to figure to myself the miseries of confinement. I was in a right frame for it, and so I gave full scope to my imagination.

I was going to begin with the millions of my fellow-creatures born to no inheritance but slavery; but finding, however affecting the picture was, that I could not bring it near me, and that the multitude of sad groups in it did but distract

me

-I took a single captive, and having first shut him up in his dungeon, I then looked through the twilight of his grated door to take his picture.

I beheld his body half wasted away with long expectation and confinement, and felt what kind of sickness of the heart it was which arises from

hope deferred. Upon looking nearer, I saw him pale and feverish: In thirty years the western breeze had not once fanned his blood-he had seen no sun, no moon in all that time-nor had the voice of friend or kinsman breathed through his lattice :— -His children

-But here my heart began to bleed-and I was forced to go on with another part of the portrait.

He was sitting upon the ground upon a little straw, in the farthest corner of his dungeon, which was alternately his chair and bed; a little calendar of small sticks were laid at the head, notched all over with the dismal days and nights he had passed there--he had one of these little sticks in his hand, and with a rusty nail he was etching another day of misery to add to the heap. As I darkened the little light he had, he lifted

up a hopeless eye towards the door, then cast it down -shook his head, and went on with his work of affliction. I heard his chains upon his legs, as he turned his body to lay his little stick upon the bundle-He gave a deep sigh-I saw the iron enter into his soul- -I burst into tears

I could not sustain the picture of confinement which my fancy had drawn-I started up from my chair, and calling La Fleur, I bid him bespeak me a remise, and have it ready at the door of the hotel by nine in the morning.

I will go directly, said I, myself, to Monsieur Le Duc de Choiseul.

La Fleur would have put me to bed; but not willing he should see any thing upon my cheek which would cost the honest fellow a heart-ache I told him I would go to bed by myself-and bid him go do the same.

THE STARLING.

ROAD TO VERSAILLE S.

GOT into my remise the hour I proposed: La Fleur got up behind, and I bid the coachman make the best of his way to Versailles.

As there was nothing in this road, or rather nothing which I look for in travelling, I cannot fill up the blank better than with a short history of this self-same bird, which became the subject of the last chapter.

Whilst the honorable Mr. **** was waiting for a wind at Dover, it had been caught upon the cliffs before it could well fly, by an English lad who was his groom; who, not caring to destroy it, had taken it in his breast into the packet

and by course of feeding it, and taking it once under his protection, in a day or two grew fond of it, and got it safe along with him to Paris.

At Paris the lad had laid out a livre in a little. cage for the starling; and as he had little to do better the five months his master staid there, he taught it, in his mother's tongue, the four simple words—(and no more)—to which I owned myself so much its debtor.

Upon his master's going on for Italy-the lad had given it to the master of the hotel-But his little song for liberty being in an unknown language at Paris-the bird had little or no store set by him-so La Fleur bought both him and his cage for me for a bottle of Burgundy.

In my return from Italy, I brought him with me to the country in whose language he had learned his notes-and telling the story of him to Lord A-Lord A begged the bird of me ;-in a week, Lord A gave him to Lord B-Lord B made a present of him to Lord C-and Lord C's gentleman sold him to Lord D's for a shilling-Lord gave him to Lord E-and so on-half round the alphabet-From that rank he passed into the lower house, and passed the hands of as many commoners-But as all these wanted to get in

D

-and my bird wanted to get out he has almost as little store set by him in London as in Paris.

It is impossible but many of my readers must have heard of him; and if any, by mere chance, have ever seen him-I beg leave to inform them, that that bird was my bird-or some vile copy set up to represent him.

I have nothing farther to add upon him, but that from that time to this, I have borne this poor starling as the crest to my arms.

Thus :

I

THE ADDRESS.

VERSAILLES.

SHOULD not like to have my enemy take a view of my mind, when I am going to ask protection of any man; for which reason, I generally endeavor to protect myself; but this going to Monsieur Le Duc de C**** was an act of compulsion-had it been an act of choice, I should have done it, I suppose like other people.

How many mean plans of dirty address, as I

went alone, did my servile heart form! I deserved the Bastile for every one of them.

Then nothing would serve me, when I got within sight of Versailles, but putting words and sentences together, and conceiving attitudes and tones to wreath myself into Monsieur Le Duc de C****'s good graces-This will do- said I

-Just as well, retorted I again, as a coat carried up to him by an adventurous taylor, without taking his measure-Fool! continuedI-see Monsieur Le Duc's face first-observe what character is written in it; take notice in what posture he stands to hear you-mark the turns and expressions of his body and limbs-And for the tone -the first sound whch comes from his lips will give it you; and from all these together, you will compound an address at once upon the spot, which cannot disgust the Duke-the ingredients are his own, and most likely to go down.

Well! said I, I wish it were over- -Coward again! as if man to man was not equal throughout the whole surface of the globe; and if in the field why not face to face in the cabinet too? And trust me, Yorick, whenever it is not so, man is false to himself; and betrays his own succors ten times where Nature does it once. Go to the Duc de C...... with the Bastile in thy looks -My life for it thou wilt be sent back to Paris in half an hour with an escort.

I believe so, said I-Then I will go to the Duke, by heaven with all the gaiety and debonairness in the world..

-And there you are wrong again, replied I— A heart at ease, Yorick, flies into no extremes— it is ever on its centre-Well! well! cried I, as the coachman turned in at the gates-I find I shall do very well: And by the time he had wheeled round the court, and brought me up to the door, I found myself so much the better for