46 The Skylark. 



heavy for the parent to carry, and, being dropped from an 

 height of about thirty feet, was killed in the fall. 



Of all captive birds, none grieves me more than the skylark. 

 Its impulse is to soar, which is impossible in the narrow spaces 

 of a cage ; and in this unhappy condition, when seized by the 

 impulse of song, he flings himself upwards, and is dashed down 

 agairT by its cruel barriers. . For this reason the top of the 

 lark's cage is always bedded with green baize to prevent his 

 injuring himself In the freedom of nature he is the joyous 

 minstrel of liberty and love, carrying upwards, and sending 

 down from above, his buoyant song, which seems to fall down 

 through the golden sunshine like a flood of sparkling melody. 



I am not aware of the height to which the lark soars, but it 

 must be very great, as he becomes diminished to a mere speck, 

 almost invisible in the blaze of light. Yet, high as he may 

 soar, he never loses the consciousness of the little mate and 

 the nestlings below : but their first cry of danger or anxiety, 

 though the cry may be scarce audible to the human ear, thrills 

 up aloft to the singer, and he comes down with a direct arrow- 

 like flight, whilst otherwise his descent is more leisurely, and 

 said by some to be in the direct spiral line of his ascent. 



Larks, unfortunately for themselves, are considered very fine 

 eating. Immense numbers of them are killed for the table, not 

 only on the continent, but in England. People cry shame on 

 the Roman epicure, Lucullus, dining on a stew of nightingales' 

 tongue, nearly two thousand years ago, and no more can I re- 

 concile to myself the daily feasting on these lovely little 

 songsters, which may be delicate eating, but are no less God's 

 gifts to gladden and beautify the earth. 



