TIME AND CHANGE 
boys do the feat standing ona plank. I was tempted 
to try this myself, but of course made a comical 
failure. 
One of my pleasant surprises in Honolulu — one 
that gave the touch of nature which made me feel 
less a stranger there — was learning that the Euro- 
pean skylark had been introduced and was thriving 
on the grassy slopes back of the city. The mina, a 
species of starling from India as large as our robin 
and rather showily dressed, with a loud, strident 
voice, I had seen and heard everywhere both in 
town and country, but he was a stranger and did > 
not appeal to me. But the thought of the skylark 
brought Shelley and Wordsworth, and English 
downs and meadows, near to meat once, and I was 
eager to hear it. So early one morning we left the 
Pleasanton, our tarrying-place, and climbed the 
long, pastoral slope above the city, where cattle and 
horses were grazing, and listened for this minstrel 
from the motherland. We had not long to wait. 
Sure enough, not far from us there sprang from the 
turf Shelley’s bird, and went climbing his invisible 
spiral toward the sky, pouring out those hurried, 
ecstatic notes, just as I had heard him above the 
South Downs of England. It was a moment of keen 
delight to me. The bird soared and hovered, drift- 
ing about, as it were, before the impetuous current 
of his song, with all the joy and abandon with which 
the poets have credited him. It was like a bit of 
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