THE SKYLARK. 283 



tion of my friend Wm. Sinclaire, Esq., contained one of a black 

 colour, which was shot in a wild state among a flock, as was a 

 pure white one — a true albino, with red eyes — which is in 

 the collection of J. V. Stewart, Esq. One, with primaries, secon- 

 daries and tail, snowy white, and, like the others, shot in a wild 

 state, has come under my notice. Birds are of course more subject 

 to melanism when caged, than in a state of nature. A young male 

 skylark of 1843, kept by Mr. Darragh, curator of the Belfast 

 Museum, changed at the autumnal moult of 1845 to black, which 

 colour was assumed by its entire plumage excepting on the upper 

 portion of the neck, where on close examination, a little very dark- 

 brown might be observed. Tins bird was fed on bread, potatoes, 

 groats, and hemp-seed. Death ensued soon after the black plumage 

 was exhibited. It panted much, as if for want of breath, and on 

 dissection after death, a fleshy tubercle was found outside the lower 

 portion of the windpipe. In Dec, 1846, Mr. Darragh received 

 a black lark to preserve, which had been three years in the pos- 

 session of the person with whom it died, during the one half of which 

 period the plumage had been black . A considerable portion of its 

 food during the whole time was hemp-seed. Its skull was re- 

 marked to be extremely thin, so much so, as to be compared to 

 silk-paper. This was likewise the case in another black lark, 

 which he set up. Both birds were males and excellent singers. 

 The claws of caged larks kept by him have grown to the length 

 of two inches. A lark which had its liberty within the green- 

 house of a relative, lived eight years there, and was eventually 

 lost by effecting its escape. 



Nowhere perhaps is the skylark more sought for as a caged-bird 

 than in Ireland, and the song given forth "right merrilie" from 

 the little patch of green-sward within its prison, seems to imply 

 that the bird bears confinement well. But it is always with re- 

 gret that we see the lark, whose nature is to pierce the clouds 

 when singing, so circumscribed, and we cannot but wish for its 

 own sake that it had the freedom of " fresh fields and pastures 

 new;" yet we do not, like a class of persons in the world, think 

 only of the skylark. To the poor artisan in the town, this bird is 



