a tree. SOUTH AMERICAN ORIOLES. 163 nest, of wool and the long stems of grass curiously interwoven, and attached to the horizontal fork of the bough of The eggs are four or five in number, of a white colour, slightly tinged with purple, with a few distinct spots of ash grey and claret colour. La Vaillant, who first described this richly-coloured Oriole as a native of Southern Africa, remarks that it is there only known as a bird of passage, arriving at the fruit season, and disappearing soon after. It is probably, therefore, one of those migratory species which, like the Grakles, usually reside in equinoctial Africa, and migrate southerly during autumn. These birds inhabit only the deeper forests, and from constantly perching on the highest trees are difficult to shoot or capture. The Orioles of South America are of a different genus to the above, and are called by the natives Yapous, a name expressive of their natural cry. They are peculiarly distinguished for the curious construction of their nests, which are composed of bark and small rushes, interlaced with many black filaments resembling horse-hair. The form is 164 A RIIYME FOR THE YAPOUS. that of a purse, or long pouch, about thirty-six inches in length, and ten in width at the lower part, where it assumes the shape of a hemisphere. These nests are suspended from the branches of lofty trees, generally close to the extremity; the entrance is situated in the side, near the top. The Yapous remain in flocks, and often appear, by the variety of natural and imitative sounds which they emit, to be mocking the passer-by, to whom their large, singularly-shaped nests, swinging to and fro, must look very like Brobdignagian hams hung up to dry. 'Yapou-yapou! ha-ha! yapou!' The traveller turns him at the sound; A happy family they seem, All bent for pastime and delight, Amid the broken sunlight gleam Their checkered plumes, so golden bright; The young are peeping from each nest, And mimicking their parents' cries, And ere the traveller onward went, He's discontented still. THE family of Alaudine birds Alaudina is divided by by Macgillivray and others into six genera, only two of which, however, have representatives in this country: these are the Alauda, or Lark genus, and the Anthus or Pipet genus, in each of which there are four British species. The best known of them all is the SKY, or FIELD LARK, or LAVEROCK (Alauda arvensis), the ethereal minstrel that the poets have so loved to honour; that little plain brown bird, whose exulting song charms and delights alike old and young, gentle and simple; that makes its nest in lowly places, and rises from thence, like an impersonification of praise, to sing at heaven's gate; that speck in the sunshine, which Shelley thus addresses: Hail to thee, blithe spirit! Bird thou never wert, That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Yes, well might Christopher North exclaim 166 WHAT THE LARK TEACHES. Higher, and higher than ever rose the tower of Belus, soars and sings the Lark, the lyrical poet of the sky. Listen, listen! and the more remote the bird, the louder is his hymn in heaven. He seems, in his loftiness, to have left the earth for ever, and to have forgotten his lowly nest. The primroses and the daisies, and all the sweet hill-flowers, must be remembered in the lofty region of light. But just as the Lark is lost he and his song together both are again seen and heard wavering down the sky, and in a little while he is walking, contented, along the furrows of the braided corn, or on the clover lea, that has not felt the ploughshare for half a century. Thou, simple bird! Of all the vocal quire, dwell'st in a home The humblest; yet thy morning song ascends So should it be with us, borne up on the wings of faith and love, with our hearts full of praise, to the footstool of the Author of all good; yet not forgetful that our present home is on earth, and that however lofty may be our aspirations, however earnest our desires and longings after the glories and the blessings of a future state, yet our path of duty lies here, and that we should be Content to fill a little space, Fain would we place before our readers some of the many beautiful things that have been said of the Lark by English poets especially, from Shakspeare downward, and by those writers of divinity who have drawn most largely from the objects and analogies of nature to illustrate spiritual teachings, such as Jeremy Taylor and Bishop Hall. But to occupy too much space with such matter would scarcely accord with the aim and object of this book. The poetry which we do use must be chiefly descriptive; and of this we shall find much more than enough for our purpose, in reference to this favourite bird, whose song, so exultant and inspiriting, has cheered many a grief-stricken and sinking heart. What says Washington Irving about this? Of all birds I should like to be a Lark. He revels in the brightest time of the day, in the happiest season of the year, among fresh DISTINGUISHING PECULIARITIES. 167 meadows and opening flowers; and when he has sated himself with the sweetness of earth, he wings his flight up to heaven, as if he would drink in the melody of the morning stars. Hark to that note! How it comes thrilling down upon the ear! What a stream of music, note falling over note in delicious cadence! Who would trouble his head about operas and concerts, when he could walk in the fields, and hear such music for nothing? There are homilies in Nature's works, worth all the wisdom of the schools, if we could but read them rightly; and one of the most pleasant lessons I ever received in a time of trouble, was from hearing the note of a Lark. From Mudie's 'Feathered Tribes of the British Islands' we quote the following animated description of the distinguishing peculiarities of this species : The Skylark, or, as is more accurately expressed by the specific name, the Field Lark' (only that name has been misapplied to the Field Pipet), is the most universal of the British songsters. It inhabits near the dwellings of man, rather than in the bleak wastes, because neither the seeds nor the insects which are produced in these are suited for it; but it inhabits the peopled districts abundantly, in all their varieties of latitude, soil, and climate, and, though it might have been previously unknown there, when man has turned the furrow on the waste, and replaced the heath, the moss, and the rush by a more kindly vegetation, the Lark is sure to come with its song of gratitude, to reveiller him to the field betimes, and cheer his labours the live-long day. Larks, from their vast numbers, flock much and fly far in the winter, and flock more to the uplands in the middle of England, where much rain usually falls in the summer, than to the drier and warmer places near the shores; but so true are they to their time, that, be it in the south, the centre, or the north, the Lark is always ready, on the first gleamy day of the year, to mount to its watchtower in the upper sky, and proclaim the coming of the vernal season. It is, in fact, more joyant in the sun, more inspirable by the life which the solar influence diffuses through the atmosphere, than almost any other creature. Not a spring air can sport, not a breeze of morn can play, not an exhalation of freshness from opening bud or softening clod can ascend, without note of it being taken and proclaimed by this all-sentient index to the progress of nature. And the form and manner of the indication are as delightful as the principle is true. The Lark rises, not like most birds, which climb the air upon one slope, by a succession of leaps, as if a heavy body were raised by a succession of efforts or steps, with pauses between: it twines upward like a vapour, borne lightly on the atmosphere, and yielding to the motions of that as other vapours do. Its course is a spiral, gradually enlarging, and, seen on the side, it is as if it were keeping the boundary of a pillar of ascending smoke, |