CHAPTER X. 
THE WOOD LARK 
(.Alaada arborea). 
“ What time the timid hare limps forth to feed, 
When the scared Owl skims round the grassy mead; 
Then high in air, and poised upon his wings, 
Unseen the soft, enamoured Wood Lark sings.” 
Bolton. 
Welcker lias christened the Wood Lark “ the Night¬ 
ingale of the air.” Hundreds of poets have sung the 
praises of her more fortunate sister the Sky Lark, yet no 
one has cast a thought on the Wood Lark but Welcker, 
and he is not only a poet but a naturalist. She is, 
however, fully as worthy of notice as the Sky Lark, aye, 
and to my view much more so. The pedestrian on his 
solitary tramp across the barren heath, finds himself in a 
neighbourhood with no other prospect before him than 
the scanty herbage which surrounds him, vainly seeking 
some living being amid the desert scene, when suddenly 
he hears from out the sky above, a sweet liquid song, 
beginning with a soft flute-like “ Loulou,” trilling to its 
end. The notes are few, but are combined in such a 
masterly manner as to form a most harmonious whole. 
The strain is so soft and tender, so pure, so full and round, 
that the wanderer unconsciously stops rivetted to the 
spot, while his inmost heart is charmed by the lovely 
