THE SKYLARK. 121 



of far-stretching lakes covered with islets; endless sea-reaches 

 running through deviating channels, even miles inland; islands 

 scattered sea-wards; and giant rocks rearing their bald heads into 

 the clouds, all form a scene enough to gain for Lochmaddy a re- 

 putation for anything but Skylarks. Yet high above this wonder- 

 ful distribution of rocks, peat, salt and fresh water lochs, un- 

 adorned with any of the elements that are supposed to awaken a 

 bird's melody, the Shepherd's favourite sings joyously, and seem- 

 ingly as much an " emblem of happiness " as when fanning the 

 " snaw-white clouds " over a poet's dwelling. 



Besides these outer islands where the species is everywhere 

 common, the Inner Hebrides are likewise frequented by numbers of 

 Skylarks. Mr Graham has written to me recently, with a descrip- 

 tion of an effect he has often experienced when cruising off the 

 shores of lona and Mull, where larks are very abundant. After a 

 night's sailing in an open boat, beset by sharp squalls and rapid 

 tides hearing only the wash of the waves and the distant moan 

 of breakers chafing against a reef he has made for the entrance 

 of the sound or inlet, and entered calm water just as the first rays 

 of the sun gilded the steep lofty banks, and been gladdened by 

 a burst of bird music coming from opposite shores. Chief 

 among the sweet singers was the lark. " Or, perhaps," says my 

 friend, " the song of this bird is still more remarkable in its effect 

 when on a fine clear morning one is starting off by boat, bound 

 for the distant purple islets which hang upon the dark-blue 

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

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

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

 passed the boat standing out into deep water, and the land be- 

 ginning to diminish astern as long as we can distinguish the 

 white sandy bays and the green mounds beyond them, we still hear 

 the jubilant trilling of many larks filling the air above, although 

 growing fainter and fainter as the sea-breeze now fairly fills the 

 sail, and the boat settles down to her work." 



Let us imagine the poet Shelley listening from one of the green 

 mounds of Mull, or one of the dark-brown moors of Benbecula, and 

 seeing the little fellow springing from a green patch in that 

 ancient-looking and sterile plain, his little bosom trembling all 

 over with a store of pent-up melody; and as we ourselves listen 

 with the poet to the gentle trillings of the bird as his wings 



