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 his

tory of this self-same bird, which became the subject of the last chapter.

Whilst the Honorable Mr.

Dover, it had been caught upon the cliffs, before it could well

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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 stayed 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 D. 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, 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 further to add upon him, but that from that time to this, I have borne this poor starling as the crest to my And let the herald's officers twist his neck about if they

arms.

dare.

17

I 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 along, 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 writhe 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 tailor, without taking his measure. Fool! continued I, 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 which comes from his lips will give it you; and from all these together you'll 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 well 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'll go to the Duke, by heaven! with all the gayety and debonairness in the world.

And there you are wrong again, replied I. A heart at ease, Yorick, flies into no extremes, 'tis 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 my own lecture, that I neither ascended the steps like a victim to justice, who was to part with life upon the topmost, nor did I mount them with a skip and a couple of strides, as I do when I fly up, Eliza! to thee, to meet it.