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ever。 But he was profoundly silent。 Whether he had forgotten the
art of Polite Conversation in Newgate； or had made a vow in those
troubled times to forego； for a period； the display of his
accomplishments； is matter of uncertainty； but certain it is that
for a whole year he never indulged in any other sound than a grave；
decorous croak。 At the expiration of that term； the morning being
very bright and sunny； he was heard to address himself to the
horses in the stable； upon the subject of the Kettle； so often
mentioned in these pages； and before the witness who overheard him
could run into the house with the intelligence； and add to it upon
his solemn affirmation the statement that he had heard him laugh；
the bird himself advanced with fantastic steps to the very door of
the bar； and there cried； 'I'm a devil； I'm a devil； I'm a devil！'
with extraordinary rapture。
From that period （although he was supposed to be much affected by
the death of Mr Willet senior）； he constantly practised and
improved himself in the vulgar tongue； and； as he was a mere infant
for a raven when Barnaby was grey； he has very probably gone on
talking to the present time。
End