and blackened: reduce them to their proper size and hue, she

overlooks them. - 'Tis true, said I, correcting the proposition, -
the Bastile is not an evil to be despised; - but strip it of its

towers - fill up the fosse, - unbarricade the doors - call it
simply a confinement, and suppose 'tis some tyrant of a distemper -

and not of a man, which holds you in it, - the evil vanishes, and
you bear the other half without complaint.

I was interrupted in the heyday of this soliloquy, with a voice
which I took to be of a child, which complained "it could not get

out." - I look'd up and down the passage, and seeing neither man,
woman, nor child, I went out without farther attention.

In my return back through the passage, I heard the same words
repeated twice over; and, looking up, I saw it was a starling hung

in a little cage. - "I can't get out, - I can't get out," said the
starling.

I stood looking at the bird: and to every person who came through
the passage it ran fluttering to the side towards which they

approach'd it, with the same lamentation of its captivity. "I
can't get out," said the starling. - God help thee! said I, but

I'll let thee out, cost what it will; so I turned about the cage to
get to the door: it was twisted and double twisted so fast with

wire, there was no getting it open without pulling the cage to
pieces. - I took both hands to it.

The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his deliverance,
and thrusting his head through the trellis pressed his breast

against it as if impatient. - I fear, poor creature! said I, I
cannot set thee at liberty. - "No," said the starling, - "I can't

get out - I can't get out," said the starling.
I vow I never had my affections more tenderly awakened; nor do I

remember an incident in my life, where the dissipated spirits, to
which my reason had been a bubble, were so suddenly call'd home.

Mechanical as the notes were, yet so true in tune to nature were
they chanted, that in one moment they overthrew all my systematic

reasonings upon the Bastile; and I heavily walked upstairs,
unsaying every word I had said in going down them.

Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery! said I, - still thou
art a bitter draught! and though thousands in all ages have been

made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account. -
'Tis thou, thrice sweet and graciousgoddess, addressing myself to

Liberty, whom all in public or in private worship, whose taste is
grateful, and ever will be so, till Nature herself shall change. -

No TINT of words can spot thy snowy mantle, or chymic power turn
thy sceptre into iron: - with thee to smile upon him as he eats his

crust, the swain is happier than his monarch, from whose court thou
art exiled! - Gracious Heaven! cried I, kneeling down upon the last

step but one in my ascent, grant me but health, thou great Bestower
of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my companion, - and

shower down thy mitres, if it seems good unto thy divine
providence, upon those heads which are aching for them!

THE CAPTIVE. PARIS.
The bird in his cage pursued me into my room; I sat down close to

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 look'd 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 deferr'd. Upon looking nearer I saw him
pale and feverish: in thirty years the westernbreeze had not once

fann'd 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 furthest

corner of his dungeon, which was alternately his chair and bed: a
little calendar of small sticks were laid at the head, notch'd 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'll 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

anything 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 VERSAILLES.

I 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 Honourable 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 own'd 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- begg'd 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 D-
gave him to Lord E-; and so on - half round the alphabet. From

that rank he pass'd into the lower house, and pass'd the hands of
as many commoners. But as all these wanted to GET IN, and my bird

wanted to GET OUT, he had 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. -