THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
July 15. 
;>16 
much mention. They will positively fight with a shadow, 
and no other bird is safe within their range. 
The hens are very indifferent layers; they lay a medium¬ 
sized egg with tinted shell. The chickens, when half-grown., 
are gaunt, ungainly-looking young things, and, like most 
choice kinds, feather very slowly. 
For confirmation of these points I am indebted to one 
who used to be much celebrated for his Malays, until he 
changed them for the more productive Cochin-China.— 
Anster Bonn. 
BRITISH SONG BIRDS. 
THE SKYLARK. 
Insessores Conirostres. Alaudidje. 
Alauda Arvensis. Skylark ; Common Lark ; Field Lark; 
Laverock. 
The Skylark is so general a favourite, and so well known, 
as scarcely to require description. Its cheerful and delight¬ 
ful song, fresh as the spring, is appreciated by almost every 
one, and on that account is most sought after by those who 
are fond of caged birds; whilst the facility with which it is ( 
preserved in health under confinement, and the general 
gaiety of its manner, and sprightliness of its song, make it : 
one of, if not the most desirable of song birds. In its 
natural or wild state its food consists of insects, worms, * 
grain, and seeds of the grasses, and occasionally on green i 
food. It is often discovered in the roads, shuffling and rub- 
bing itself along the ground, setting up its feathers in a j 
ruffled manner, and, by a peculiar action of the legs and 
wings, showering over every part of its body small loose 
portions of the soil—in fact, “kicking up a dust” about 
itself, with the view, it is supposed, and I believe justly, to 
rid itself of the small parisitic insects with which it is so 
often infested ; they are, therefore, described to be pul- 
veratrices, or, in other words, dusters. During the number 
of years that I have kept these birds I have never known 
them to use the bath ; nevertheless, after a shower of rain 
I have frequently observed them fluttering their wings, and ! 
in various ways disengaging the moisture from then - plum- 
age. I have preferred the trouble of bringing these birds 
up from the nest, because I find them to become remark¬ 
ably tame, though wild birds will very soon become recon¬ 
ciled to confinement, but seldom or never become tame. 
When caught wild they will readily peck up crushed hemp- 
seed, wheat, embden groats, or, in fact, any small grain; if 
brought up from the nest, crushed hempseed and boiled 
bread and milk, formed into a stiff paste, was the usual food 
upon which I reared my birds, whose song was as perfect at 
1 mature age as any bird taken wild, and with this advantage— 
i that they soon became familar with their keeper. As an 
illustration of this, I remember some years ago being 
highly entertained, on visiting a gentleman farmer in the 
village of Cowley, near Uxbridge,—whose family were seated 
round a table, busily employed in various pursuits, some 
! reading, some writing, and others drawing and painting,—by 
observing a lark running about the table among the children's 
books, sometimes pecking at the writer’s pen, another time 
running away with a camel-hair pencil in its beak, knocking 
and dashing it about as if it were an insect or seed; and if 
any of the children attempted to interrupt or intercept its 
; wanderings or vagaries, it would immediately turn round 
and face its intruder with open beak, defying him with all 
I its power and vehemence, and at length fly off with the 
disputed plume or pencil in its beak, hover over the table, 
and finally alight perhaps on the head of one of the 
children, or settle down amongst them again on the table. 
I need not say he was a pet companion and a general 
favourite, and was happily, when a nestling, saved from the 
jaws of a cat, who had picked him up in the fields and 
brought him into the house, when it was secured from her 
grasp by the children unhurt, and brought up by them. I 
had myself a lark two or three years, which was allowed to 
run about my sitting-room at will; and, although many in 
family, it always managed to get out of the way of one’s 
feet so as never to get hurt. It used to run about the carpet 
singing as it pecked up the crumbs which dropped from the 
table (which was all the food it had, except now and then 
a tit bit, which it would take from the hands of any of my ! 
children), a pan of water being kept in one corner of the 
room for its use. It was so tame and intelligent as appa¬ 
rently to understand one speaking to it. It occasionally 
ran out into the garden, which was on the same level as the ; 
room, when, if observed, it would immediately crouch down 
as if conscious of having done wrong, and make off for the 
room; or if at some distance any of my children spoke to 
it, as they frequently did, in a scolding manner, by telling it 
to go into the house, or pussy would have him, he would be 
I off in a twinkling into the parlour, and commence singing 
as “ blithe as a lark,” as if to make amends for his past 
j misdeeds. Unfortunately, however, he went out once too 
often, for he never returned ; and I fear some feline rascal 
snapped him up and made his dinner off him. The lark 
kept in a cage, which should be large and lofty, should have 
a quantity of powdered mortar or road-grit at the bottom 
with which to dust himself; and in addition, a nice fresh 
green turf, or, if not procurable, a bit of fresh raw cabbage, 
lettuce, or, best of all, turnip leaf, crushed hempseed and 
bread, crumbled and mixed together, or German paste, a 
receipt for which 1 enclose by way of postscript.— William 
Eayner. 
GERMAN PASTE. 
One pound of wlieaten meal (some persons prefer peas 
meal), two ounces of fresh butter, four ounces of brown j 
sugar, three hard boiled eggs, cut up very small. 
Put the meal, butter, eggs, and sugar into a wide sauce¬ 
pan, over a clear slow fire, and keep stilling it to prevent its 
burning; and when it becomes dry, keep stirring it till it 
becomes crumbly. When this is ready (take notice, it must 
not be burnt, as this would be injurious to the birds) put a 
! pint of cracked hempseed to the mixture, and mix them 
j well together. If kept in a dry place it will be good for 
months. 
FLORISTS’ FLOWERS. 
Pink (J . Kearsley ).—Worthless, except as a common bedder. Are you 
aware, that to be a show-flower the ground must be white ? 
Calceolarias and Fuchsias (E. Turner).— All were dried up. 
Pelargonium (J. H. (?.).—All the flowers were fallen to pieces. 
Sports, such as being half fancy flowers, and half of the standard size 
and form, is not common, but the sport will possibly not be permanent, 
and would be no merit if constant. 
Six Antirrhinums {M. B. J -, Maidstone ).—All good forms; 
spikes large ; flowers on strong upright footstalks. The best are No. 2, 
muzzle coppery-orange; petals plum colour. The unmarked specimen 
is pretty; muzzle creamy white; petals lilac, with darker lines of the 
same colour. No. 3, also pretty ; muzzle white, with faint tint of yellow, 
petals pinkish-white dusted with purple. 
Pansey (C. F .).—Form good, size large; but is a purple self, not 
superior to others already well known. 
TO CORRESPONDENTS. 
Honey-dew. — J. B. P., who resides at Dublin, says:—‘‘Last week, 
in a communication to you, I mentioned that although I had observed 
the wild bee and wasps gathering honey-dew on the upper surface of the 
leaves of plum and pear trees, no domestic bee was so engaged ; while, 
on the contrary, although the domestic bee was remarked similarly em¬ 
ployed on the under surface of the leaves of the laurel, no wild bee or 
wasp was found there. This I have frequently observed since, and from 
the singularity of the case I devoted some attention to the matter. By 
applying the tongue to the under surface of the laurel leaf, I sometimes 
fancied I could detect the faintest possible sweetness, but in no way 
sufficient to establish the belief that it arose from honey-dew ; but ob¬ 
serving the bee closely, I noticed, that having traversed the leaf hastily, 
it paused much longer at one spot on each leaf than at any other; this 
was about one-quarter-of-an-inch above the lower part where it adjoins 
the stalk, and close to the rib which runs along the back (I am not 
botanist enough to describe it technically). In the place I allude to, I 
