62 BIEDS IN LONDON 



his old gay spirits ; day after day he moped 

 in silence, a picture of abject misery, recalling 

 in his half-naked, bruised, and bedraggled ap- 

 pearance the famous bird of Rheims, the stealer 

 of the turquoise ring, after the awful malediction 

 of the Lord Cardinal Archbishop had taken effect : 



On crumpled claw, 

 Came limping a poor little lame jackdaw, 



No longer gay 



As on yesterday ; 



His feathers all seemed to be turned the wrong way ; 

 His pinions drooped, he could hardly stand, 

 His head was as bald as the palm of your hand ; 



His eye so dim, 



So wasted each limb, 



That, heedless of grammar, they all cried ' That's 

 him!' 



By-and-by, when still in this broken-hearted 

 and broken-feathered state, a sight to make his 

 mistress weep, he disappeared ; it was con- 

 jectured that some compassionate-minded neigh- 

 bour, finding him in his garden or grounds, and 

 seeing his pitiable condition, had put an end to 

 his misery. 



One day, a year later, Mrs. Melford, who 

 was just recovering from an illness, was lying 



