AMERICAN SKYLAEKS 



" Eight hard it was for wight which did it heare, 

 To read what manner musicke that mote bee." 



Spenser. 



On the second day after our arrival in 

 Franconia ^ we were following a dry, sandy 

 stretch of valley road — on one of our fa- 

 vorite rounds — when a bird flew across it, 

 just before us, and dropped into the barren, 

 closely cropped cattle pasture on our left. 

 Something indefinable in its manner or ap- 

 pearance excited my suspicions, and I stole 

 up to the fence and looked over. The bird 

 was a horned lark, the first one that I had 

 ever set eyes on in the nesting season. He 

 seemed to be very hungry, snapping up in- 

 sects with the greatest avidity, and was not 

 in the least disturbed by our somewhat eager 

 attentions. It was plain at the first glance 



^ This and the two succeeding chapters are records of 

 a vacation visit in May, 1901. 



