Just
before putting me in my rude prison house he brought a pair of shears
and bade Betty clip my wings.
"Oh, I'm afraid it will hurt it!" she exclaimed, pushing away the
extended scissors.
"Nonsense, you ninny! What if it does hurt it?" and he roughly knocked
my bill with his hand.
"Now that's real mean, Joe. You're a scaring it to pieces. Here,
Dickey Downy, I'm going to give you a pretty name if you belong to me;
let me hold you. Why, its little heart is a thumping as if 'twould
burst through its body."
Joe was reluctant to loosen his grasp, and between being pulled first
one way and then the other by the two children, I was badly bruised.
Finally I was permitted by my young captor to enter the cage, where I
sank, trembling and exhausted, to the floor, and remained there all
night, being too sore to ascend the perch.
As may be imagined I was very sorrowful and unhappy. The separation
from my mother and my dear companions, coupled with the fear that I
might never again wing my blithesome flight through the bright blue
sky, but spend the balance of my life in this miserable cell, filled me
with despair. Frantic but useless were my efforts to escape. In vain
I beat my head against the hard steel bars; in vain I endeavored to
crowd my body between them.
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