XXVII. 



THE LARK IN AUTUMN. 



MEN are out on the ridge hard by catching 

 larks with mirrors. Catching skylarks for 

 table ! Just think of the sacrilege ! Listen ! 

 As I write I can hear the dear birds carol- 

 ling loud even now in the divine sunshine ; 

 singing gaily at heaven's gate, as they 

 sang for Shakespeare ; pouring their full 

 hearts, in their joy, as they poured them 

 forth for Shelley ! And these London jail- 

 birds, slouching figures in short jackets 

 and round-brimmed hats, have come down 

 from their slums to our free Surrey moors, 

 to catch and kill them ! How I hope they 

 will fail ! To the lover of nature, in spite 

 of the proverb, a bird in the bush is 



