AN OCTOBER ABEOAD 165 



spring, ■when the atmosphere is less clear and the 

 heart of the bird full of a more mad and reckless 

 love, that the climax is not reached until the eye 

 loses sight of the singer. 



Several attempts have been made to introduce the 

 lark into this country, but for some reason or other 

 the experiment has never succeeded. The birds have 

 been liberated in Virginia and on Long Island, but 

 do not seem to have ever been heard of afterwards. 

 I see no reason why they should not thrive any- 

 where along our Atlantic seaboard, and I think the 

 question of introducing them worthy of more thor- 

 ough and serious attention than has yet been given 

 it, for the lark is really an institution; and as he 

 sings long after the other birds are silent, — as if 

 he had perpetual spring ia his heart, — he would be 

 a great acquisition to our fields and meadows. It 

 may be that he cannot stand the extremes of our 

 climate, though the English sparrow thrives well 

 enough. The Smithsonian Institution has received 

 specimens of the skylark from Alaska, where, no 

 doubt, they find a climate more like the English. 



They have another prominent singer in England, 

 namely, the robin, — the original robin redbreast, — 

 a slight, quick, active bird with an orange front and 

 an olive back, and a bright, musical warble that I 

 caught by every garden, lane, and hedge-row. It 

 suggests our bluebird, and has similar habits and 

 manners, though it is a much better musician. 



The European bird that corresponds to our robin 

 is the blackbird, of which Tennyson sings: — 



