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.
