46 WITHIN AN HOUR OF LONDON TOWN. 



hand. Patch at once draws his feet up to his 

 breast, rolls his eyes at me, and gives full vent 

 to his grief in awful sounds. Some one being 

 choked, and trying to protest against the process, 

 one might fancy it to be. I place him in the cage 

 in the same position ; when he gets up on his perch 

 he looks at me in a very demoniacal manner. We 

 are friends again directly, however. Like his master, 

 he has a will of his own, and it generally ends in his 

 having his when he pleases, and I mine when I can 

 get it. 



Tea being over, Patch watches the proceedings 

 as all things, myself included, get settled down 

 from under a chair or table. Then, with a run 

 over the room, a jump on to a chair, and from 

 that to the table, thence to the top of his cage, 

 Patch remains on his throne for the rest of the 

 evening his game in the cellar excepted. 



During the evening he will condescend to address 

 a few sentences to me, just to let me know he can 

 see me, nothing more. His mistress has his un- 

 divided attention. From the top of his cage he 

 holds forth with great and untiring eloquence, crest 

 raised, body upright, looking like one of those 



