52 THE SMALLER BRITISR lilRBS. 



"Bird of the wilderness, 

 Blythesotne and cumberless," 



but more softly and sweetly. Up it goes, sometimes straight up, but 

 generally in a slanting direction, till it reaches a considerable height, 

 from whence its song sounds like an echo of far-away music, although 

 it is never lost to view, as the Sky Lark is, nor does it remain aloft 

 so long as that bird does, but soon begins its rapid descent, until, 

 still singing, it comes back to the nest, where its mate sits covering 

 the four or five pale yellowish brown eggs, about ten-twelfths of an 

 inch in length, and seven-twelfths and a half in breadth; they are 

 freckled with umber or greyish brown, and sometimes have a few 

 irregular dusky lines at the larger end. The nest is usually made of 

 dry grass, and lined with finer grass and hair. Throughout the greater 

 part of the year the song may at times be heard by those who listen 

 for it, but, except at nesting time, it is mostly in the woodlands, and 

 is not easily distinguished, being faint and low, although very musical. 

 Like the Sky Lark, this bird resides with us throughout the year, 

 and it is in the winter when the woods are bare that it is mostly 

 seen, for it is very shy, and hides itself from observation very much 

 in the leafy season; it is found mostly in the southern and midland 

 counties of England, and everywhere is much oftener heard than seen; 

 among the ferny combes and wooded dales of Devonshire it is perhaps 

 more plentiful than in any other part of these islands, although it may 

 be found in most sheltered places where there is quietude and covert, 

 and if this be within easy reach of a town or village, there do the 

 bird-catchers spread the snare and lime the twig for the capture of 

 this sweet songster, which is too often penned up in a small, dirty, 

 and perhaps perchless cage, and exposed to the burning sun or sharp 

 easterly wind without shelter of any sort. People should remember 

 that the wild life of a bird, which is passed in the open air, whore 

 it is subjected to all extremes of heat and cold, is incessant; a life 

 of constant activity is that of the bird, — of muscular exertion, keeping 

 the blood in a rapid state of circulation, and preserving the vital 

 heat of the system; the quick vibrations of those speckled wings, and 

 frequent changes of position, cannot be effected without calling into 

 play different sets of muscles, and light as the b'ody may seem to us, 

 and buoyantly as it floats upon its wings, and easily and gracefully 

 as ib glides and turns this way or that, yet there is considerable effort 

 necessary on the part of the aiirial voyager to maintain his position, 

 and steer his course to the desired end. Think of this, ye who like 

 to have caged birds about you, and do not keep a poor captive 



