238 



THE SONG. 



hope. Espoir, hope, is the old device of us Gauls; and for this reason 

 we have adopted as our national bird that humble minstrel, so poorly 

 clad, but so rich in heart and song. 



Nature seems to have treated the lark with harshness. Owing to 



the arrangement of her claws, she 

 cannot perch on the trees. She 

 rests on the ground, close to the 

 poor hare, and with no other 

 shelter than the furrow. How 

 precarious, how riskful a life, at 

 the time of incubation ! What 

 cares must be hers, what inqui- 



etudes ! Scarcely a tuft of grass conceals the mother's fond treasure 

 from the dog, the hawk, or the falcon. She hatches her eggs in haste ; 

 with haste she trains the trembling brood. Who would not believe 

 that the ill-fated bird must share the melancholy of her sad neighbour, 

 the hare ? 



