SHORE LARK. 45 



dancing one of those buoyant crafts used by whalers. In a few moments it 

 was alongside the Ripley, when my old acquaintance, the sturdy cod-fisher 

 Billixgs of Eastport, offered his services, and soon guided us into port, in 

 entering which we passed through an aperture, guarded by two dangerous 

 rocks, so narrow that one might have leaped ashore from our bark. Once 

 entered, our nostrils were assailed by odours that were anything but agree- 

 able. I was surprised to find so much bustle in such a place: perhaps more 

 than a hundred fishing-barks lay at anchor, in so regular array that they 

 might remind one of the disciplined order of a squadron ready for action, 

 although the business-like appearance of the fishermen would soon remove 

 the illusion. Every deck was heaped with fish, the value of which has, 

 for many years back, brought vessel after vessel to these inhospitable shores. 

 Each "pickaxe" had its "Hampton boats" well manned and ready to sail 

 towards the shallows, where the cod is obtained. Some, in search of bait, 

 were plying their oars and nets, while others were strewing the salted cod 

 over the naked rocks around, there to lie under the drying rays of the sun. 

 Stacks of fish, nearly cured, stretched along to the view, in as close and 

 regular array as haycocks in a meadow. A continued splash was produced 

 by the garbage as it was thrown overboard, and you may judge, if you can, 

 how many thousands of cod and ling have been destroyed, before the whole 

 bottom of this harbour has been paved with their heads. 



The thick fog rolled around us, impelled by the chill breeze of the east. 

 Mountains high and bleak we knew were near, but as yet the landscape was 

 concealed from our view. At length the mist disperses, reft by the northern 

 blasts, the sun appears riding among the fleeting vapours, and now the 

 curtain rises, when lo! what a magnificent prospect presents itself! craggy 

 cliffs, with masses of snow still hanging to their sides, and from whose 

 summits, under sheets of ice, cataracts rush in fury towards the plain. The 

 dismal table-lands form a striking contrast with the beautiful verdure below. 

 Turning towards the south-west, where lay my cherished land, I beheld the 

 precipitous shores of Newfoundland, with masses of ice between, fixed to 

 the foundations of the deep, their everchanging prismatic tints dazzling the 

 eye. But hark! the song of the Shore Lark fills the air, as the warbler 

 mounts on high. "Man the whale-boat," cries the watchful captain; "young- 

 friends, let us off to the shore," say I; and soon were we all at the place 

 where we had seen the bird alight. 



Although in the course of our previous rambles along the coast of Labrador, 

 and among the numberless islands that guard its shores, I had already seen 

 this Lark in the act of breeding, never before that day did I "So* much enjoy 

 its song, and never before I reached this singular spot, had I to add to my 

 joys that of finding its nest. Here I found the bird in the full perfection of 



Vol. III. 7 



