226 THE BIRDS OF ION A AND MULL. 



byre or stall, or den or nest, the hardy little snowflake is whirling 

 about at his ease in the terrible blast, which would be death to almost 

 any other living creature. This and the little blue sparrow, called the 

 snowbird or chipbird, are the only two birds which brave the whole 

 Canadian winter ; but the latter is domestic, and clings to man's abodes 

 for shelter and sustenance. 



The Skylark. 



Gaelic, Uiseag (pronounced ooshak). 

 "Guth na fasin uiseag," the voice of the lonely lark. — Ossian's Tavra. 

 There is a large stone in Ayrshire called Cam na uiseag, the lark's cairn, 

 which the country people say marks the grave of Ossian. The legend probably 

 originated from the resemblance in sound of the words Ossian and uiseag. 



On the cultivated fields, the lower pastures, and all the coast 

 lands of Mull and Iona, the lark is very abundant, and the more 

 welcome as being almost the only songster we possess. The praises 

 of the lark have been so much celebrated on shore by poets, that I 

 will only add that the effect of its song is equally exhilarating when 

 heard on the water. After knocking about all night in an open boat 

 on the dark waters, amidst sharp squalls, and rapid tides, and the 

 occasional looming of a phantom ship apparently bearing right down 

 upon you, hearing only the sighing of the wind, the wash of the waves, 

 and the distant angry moan of breakers chafing against a reef, as day 

 breaks we make the entrance of the loch we are bound for, and 

 instantly enter calm water ; the light brightens every minute, the 

 sail is becalmed, but the flowing tide swirls rapidly inwards, carrying 

 the boat along without any exertion of our own : no more " Look out 

 ahead ! " " Tend the sheet ! " " Mind your helm ! " We have only to rest 

 and watch the first rays of the morning sun gilding the steep shores 

 of the narrow inlet, and as we enter we are received by a burst of 

 choral music, thrushes and blackbirds responding to each other from 

 the opposite banks, and above all, high up in the air, the larks singing 

 their morning orisons. Or perhaps the song of the lark is still more 

 remarkably exhilarating when starting off by boat on a fine clear 

 morning bound for the distant purple islands which hang upon the 

 dark-blue horizon. As the boat runs along the low coast, skimming over 

 the crisp blue waves, the larks spring up one after the other, con- 

 tinuing a succession of merry carols ; and when the last point is passed, 



