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 turn’d 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, press’d 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.
(a sentimental journey)
