October 27 - 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
54 
ceedetl, but when be returned to London lie found that bis 
friend Patterson bad embarked, and that tbe vessel bad 
sailed a few hours before be reached tbe Tower Stairs. He 
therefore jumped on board a steamer that was just starting, 
and overtook tbe ship just as she reached Gravesend, where 
he hired a small boat, and then sculling alongside, be was 
soon recognised by Patterson and his wife, who, with a 
crowd of other male and female emigrants, of all ages, were 
taking a last farewell of the various objects which the vessel 
was slowly passing. 
“ ‘ Here’s a bird for you, Harry,’ said Nash to Patterson, 
as standing up in the skiff he took the frightened captive 
out of his hat; ‘ and if it sings as well in a cage as it did 
just now in the air, it will be the best you have ever heard.’ 
“ Patterson, descending a few steps from the gangway, 
stretched out his hand and received the bird, which lie 
immediately called ‘ Charley ,’ in remembrance of his faith¬ 
ful friend Nash. 
«In the Gulf of St. Lawrence the vessel was wrecked, 
almost every thing was lost except the lives of the crew and 
passengers, and accordingly, when Patterson, with his wife 
hanging heavily on his arm, landed in Canada, he was des¬ 
titute of everything he had owned on board excepting 
Charley, whom he had preserved, and afterwards kept for 
three days in the foot of an old stocking. 
“After some few sorrows, and after some little time, 
Patterson settled at Toronto, in the lower part of a small 
house in King Street, the principal thoroughfare of the 
town, where he worked as a shoemaker. His shop had a 
southern aspect; he drove a nail into the outside of his 
window, and regularly every morning, just before bo sat 
upon his stool to commence his daily work, he carefidly 
hung upon this nail a common skylark’s cage, which had a 
solid back of dark wood, with a bow or small wire orchestra 
in front, upon the bottom of which there was to be seen, 
whenever it could be procured, a fresh sod of green turf. 
“As Charley's wings were of no use to him in this 
prison, the only wholesome exercise he could take was by 
hopping on and off his little stage ; and this sometimes he 
would continue to do most cheerfully for hours, stopping 
only occasionally to dip his hill into a small square tin box 
of water suspended on one side, and then to raise it for a 
second or two towards the sky. As soon, however, as (and 
only when his spirit moved him) this feathered captive 
again hopped upon his stage, and there, standing on a bit 
of British soil, with his little neck extended, his small head 
slightly turned, his drooping wings gently fluttering, his 
bright black eyes intently fixed upon the distant, deep, 
dark-blue Canada sky, he commenced his unpremeditated 
morning song, his extempore matin prayer! 
“ The effect of his thrilling notes, of his shrill, joyous 
song, of his pure, unadulterated English voice, upon the 
people of Canada, cannot be described, and, probably, can 
only be imagined by those who either by adversity have 
been prematurely weaned from their mother country, or 
who, from long-continued absence from it, and from hope 
deferred, have learned in a foreign land to appreciate the 
inestimable blessings of their father-land, of their parent 
home. All sorts of men, riding, driving, walking, propelled 
by urgent business, or sauntering for appetite or amuse¬ 
ment, as if by word of command, stopped spell-bound to 
listen, for more or less time, to the inspired warbling, to 
the joyful hallelujahs of a common homely-dressed English 
lark ! The loyal listened to him with the veneration 
with which they would have listened to the voice of 
their Sovereign ; reformers, as they leaned towards him, 
heard nothing in his enchanting melody which even they 
could desire to improve. I (Sir Francis Head) believe 
that in tbe hearts of the most obdurate radicals he re¬ 
animated feelings of youthful attachment to their mother 
country ; and that even the trading Yankee, in whose 
country birds of the most gorgeous plumage snulfle rather 
than sing, must have acknowledged that the heaven-bom 
talent of this little bird unaccountably warmed the Anglo- 
Saxon blood that flowed in his veins. Nevertheless, what¬ 
ever others may have felt, I must own that, although I 
always refrained from joining Charley's motley audience, 
yet, while be was singing, I never rode by him without 
acknowledging, as he stood with his outstretched neck 
looking to heaven, that he was (at all events, for his size), 
the most powerful advocate of Church and State in Her 
Majesty’s dominions; and that his eloquence was as stiongly 
appreciated by others, Patterson received many convincing 
proofs. , , 
“ Three times, as he sat beneath the cage, proud as 
Lucifer, yet hammering away at a shoe-sole lying in pur¬ 
gatory on his lap-stone, and then, with a waxed thread in 
each hand, suddenly extending his elbows, like a scara 
mouch ; three times was he interrupted in las work by- 
people who each separately offered him one hundred dollars 
for his lark : an old farmer repeatedly offered him a hundred 
acres of land for him ; and a poor Sussex carter, who had 
imprudently stopped to hear him sing, was so completely 
overwhelmed with affection and maladie du rays, that, 
walking into the shop, he offered him all he possessed in 
the world....his horse and cart; but Patterson would sell 
him to no one. , , 
“ On the evening of the —tli of October, 183 1 , the shutters 
of Patterson’s shop windows were half closed, on account of 
his having that morning been accidentally shot dead on the 
island opposite the city. The widow’s prospects were thus 
suddenly ruined, her hopes blasted, her goods sold, and 1 
need hardly say that I made myself the owner the lord 
and the master of poor Patterson’s lark. 
“ It was my earnest desire, if possible, to better Ins con¬ 
dition, and I certainly felt very proud to possess him; but 
somehow or other this ‘ Charley-is-my-darlmg” sort of feel¬ 
ing evidently was not reciprocal. Whether it was that in 
the conservatory of Government House at Toronto Charley 
missed the sky—whether it was that he disliked the move¬ 
ment, or rather want of movement, in my elbows — or 
whether from some mysterious feelings, some strange fancy 
or misgiving, the chamber of his mind was hung with 
black, 1 can only say that during the three months he re¬ 
mained in my service I could never induce him to open las 
mouth, and that up to the last hour of my departure he 
would never sing to me. . . 
“ On leaving Canada X gave him to Hamel C rus, an 
honest, faithful, loyal friend, who had accompanied me to 
the province. His station in life was about equal to that 
of poor Patterson ; and accordingly, so soon as the bird was 
hung by him on the outside of his humble dwelling, lie 
began to sing again as exquisitely as ever. He continued 
to°do so all through Sir George Arthur’s administration. 
He sang all the time Lord Durham was at work—he sang 
after the legislative Council—the Executive Council the 
House of Assembly of the province had ceased for ever to 
exist—he sang all the while the Imperial Parliament were 
framing and agreeing to an Act by which even the name of 
Upper Canada was to cease to exist—he sang all the while 
Lords John Russel and Sydenham were arranging, effecting, 
and perpetuating upon the United Provinces of Canada the 
baneful domination of what they called ‘responsible govern¬ 
ment ;’ and then, feeling that the voice of an English lark 
could no longer be of any service to that noble portion of 
Her Majesty’s dominions—he died! 
“ Orris sent me his skin, his skull, and his legs. I took 
them to the very best artist in Condon—the gentleman who 
stuffs for the British Museum—who told me, to my great 
joy, that these remains were perfectly uninjured. Alter 
listening with great professional interest to the case, he 
promised me that he would exert his utmost talent; and in 
about a month Charley returned to me with unruffled 
plumage, standing again on the little orchestra of his cage, 
with his mouth open, looking upwards—in short, in the 
attitude of singing, just as I have described him. 
“ I have had the whole covered with a large glass case, 
and upon the dark wooden back of the cage there is pasted 
a piece of white paper, upon which I have written the fol¬ 
lowing words:— 
THIS LARK, 
TAKEN TO CANADA BY A POOR EMIGRANT, 
WAS SHIPWRECKED IN THE ST. LAWRENCE, 
AND AFTER SINGING AT TORONTO FOR NINE YEARS, 
DIED THERE ON THE 14TH OF MARCH, 1843, 
UNIVERSALLY REGRETTED. 
“ Home ! Home ! Sweet Home !” 
To foster that lovo of home—to make the new home 
of the Emigrant as much like as possible to the old 
