The young of the wood-lark are tende and difficult to bring up from the nest. If taken before they are well feathered, they are subject to the cramp, and commonly die. They should be put into a basket with a little hay at the bottom, where they may lie clean and warm, and be tied close down. Feed them with sheep's heart, or other lean flesh meat, raw, mixed with a hard-boiled egg, a little bread, and hemp seed bruised or ground, chopped together as fine as possible, and a little moistened with clean water. Give them every two hours, or oftener, five or six very small bits, taking great care never to overload the stomach.

The bird, when wild feeds upon beetles, caterpillers, and other insects, besides seeds.

The wood-lark will take no other than his own melodious song, unless weaned from his nest; in that case he may be tanght the song of another bird.

Branchers, which are birds hatched in spring, are taken in June and July, with a net and a hawk, after the manner of sky-larks. They harbour about gravel pits, upon heath and common land, and in pasture fields. For fear of the hawk, they will lie so close that sometimes they suffer themselves to be taken up with the hand. They soon become tame.

They are taken with clap-nets in great numbers in September. These are accounted better birds than those caught at any other time of the year, because, by keeping them all the winter, they become tamer than birds taken in January or February, and will sing longer, commonly eight or nine months in the year.

January is another season for taking wood-larks. When caught at that time they are very stout good birds, and in a few days afterwards they will sing stouter and louder than birds taken in September, but not during so many months.

The wood-larks, whenever taken, should be fed alike with hemp seed bruised very fine, and mixed with bread and egg hard boiled, and grated or chopped as small as possible. When first caught, he will be shy for a little time. Sift fine red gravel at the bottom of his cage, and scatter some of his meat upon it; this will entice him to eat sooner than out of his trough; but that mode may be left off when he eats out of the trough freely.

In a great measure his diet should be the same as the sky-lark's. Give him no turf, but often lay fine red gravel in his

cage; and when not well, instead of gravel, put mould full of ants, which is the most agreeable live food you can give him. Or give him meal-worms, two or three a day; and a little saffron or liquorice sometimes in his water. If relaxed, grate chalk or cheese among his meat and his gravel. He will eat any kind of flesh meat minced fine, which he may now and then have for change of diet, always leaving some of his constant meat in the cage at the same time, that he may eat which he will. A gentleman, very fond of wood-larks, fed them constantly with a composition of pease-meal, honey, and butter, thoroughly mixed, rubbed into small granules, and dried in a dish before a fire. Of this meat he made enough at one time to serve six or eight birds for six weeks or two months. This has become a very usual food for them.

Great care should be taken of the wood-lark, for he is very tender. Some think it necessary to wrap a piece of cloth round the perches in very cold weather. His diet, water, and gravel, should be often shifted.

A WALK TO ELTHAM.

[For the Year Book.]

On the 25th of December last we left Camberwell, intending to keep "Christmasse," after the fashion of many of our former monarchs, in the old palace at Eltham.*

The morning was fair, with a sprinkling of snow on the ground, and a bright sun above us. As we were to join some friends in the Kent road, we shaped our course in that direction, and joined it just by that ancient pool, known ever since the days of Chaucer, and perhaps earlier, by the name of "St. Thomas à Watering." For here the pilgrims on their journey to Canterbury, usually made a halt; and hence, I suppose it assumed the name of that "holy blessful martyr," though Mr. Bray (Surrey, vol. iii.) seems to think that a chapel or chantry, dedicated to tha:

Henry III., in 1270; Lionel, his son, and regent during his absence, in 1347; Richard II., Henry IV., V., and VI., and Edw. IV., which last fed 2000 persons here daily at his expense.-Lysons.

saint, stood formerly somewhere about the spot.

But, be this as it may, the prologue to the "Canterbury Tales" makes this mention of it

And forth we riden a litel more than pas
Unto the watering of Saint Thomas-
And ther our hoste began his hors arest.

The air was keen and frosty, but the

remembrance of Dan Chaucer and his

jolly company issuing from the Tabarde in Southwark, on a clear, cool, fresh, spring morning, to wander on a pilgrimage by the very track which we were now pursuing, brought before the mind's eye such sweet fancies and gentle imaginings, that I could almost have "wallowed in December's snows' by thinking of the "soft" season.

Whanne that Aprilis with his shoures sote, The draughts of March hath forced to the rote.

Four "merry souls and all agog," we moved at a brisk pace along the Kent road, determined to find matter for mirth in every thing. We passed Hatcham, an ancient hill mentioned in Domesday Book, but consisting now of but few houses, and met with nothing worthy of

record till we reached New Cross.

"Lo! Depeford!" as Chaucer says, cried A., as the thickly congregated houses of that town burst upon our view; amongst which the low grey-stone turret of St. Nicholas, and the lofty spire of St. Paul's churches, were conspicuous; of this last, Dr. Conyers was formerly rector, and some of your readers may recollect the compliment paid him by Cowper

The path to bliss

Is open, and ye cannot enter; why? Because ye will not, Conyer would reply And he says much which many may dispute And cavil at with ease, but none refute.

We crossed the Ravensbourn, and began to ascend Blackheath hill, but struck out of the road by the "Cavern," which you may, or may not, believe was excavated by Jack Cade and his merry men all, who mustered on the heights above it, a force of nearly 100,000. As we were none of us disposed to see the "fine water" issuing from the spring at its farther extremity, forced up against its will by means of a spasmodic old pump, as ricketty, withal, as a flag-staff in a gale

of wind, we passed onward by a "basketmaker's villa," tastefully decorated with an inscription in what we agreed to be "broken English;" the style and title of the said craftsman being thus set forthBASKETM

AKER

"Finem respice !" said the thoughtful H., as he stared, with lack-lustre eye, at the odd-looking supernumerary terminating its first line

“ Ευρηκα! Ευρηκα !”

exclaimed the inveterate G.-a small dealer in left-off puns-to his wondering companion, who was gazing intently at all that piece or parcel of the memorable inscription, situate, lying, and being next below it, in the vain hope of finding the letter which his friend's announcement declared to be forthcoming.

We were now scrambling up from the pebbly gulph immediately above the Cavern, straining, as O. said, every nerve to come at "the Point," a bleak, and commanding slip of green turf connected with the heath, from which, though we missed the view, we could view the sight, till the "churlish chiding of the wintry wind" bade us begone about our busi

ness.

"What! Chaucer again," exclaimed G., somewhat good-naturedly. "Not so," replied A., "but my own rhime of Eltham, fashioned a little after the old school to be sure;" and so we went on lovingly together again, till we reached an old road, from which we soon escaped through a park-like meadow to the left, and arrived without farther let, hindrance, or impediment, eventually at this same palace.

We sought admission, which was readily granted, and gazed with delight at the curiously carved oak rafters, with their rich pendents, which at one time sustained the roof, but were now themselves staid up by stout timbers placed against them, much to the injury of their fine effect. The windows on each side struck us as peculiarly fine, reaching, as they do, almost the entire height of the building. The quiet of the place was not without its effect, and, as we felt a mysterious gravity stealing over us, we thought of bluff Harry the Eighth, and

his "til Christmasse," holden within these walls; for the prevalence of the plague, in 1526, constrained him to suppress the mirth and jollity which are the usual concomitants of that festive season.

"Item. To the Kyng his mynstrelles for playing before their majesties!" ejaculated A., as his eye caught the remains of the old orchestral loft at the eastern end of the building.-"That, Sir, was the music-gallery," said our guide; "here the king's table used to stand, and there was the grand entrance," pointing to the stately window in one of those "pretty retiring places," with curiously groined roofs, which jut out on each side the hall at its western extremity.

We looked about us for some time in silent wonderment, till the chill dusky atmosphere, through which the "glad gildy stremes" of sun-light were struggling, caused us simultaneously to seek again the cheering influences of the open day. We made our exit on the opposite side from that on which we had entered,

I hate that drum's discordant sound,
Parading round, and round, and round,
To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields,
And lures from cities and from fields,
To sell their liberty for charms,
Of taudry lace and glitt'ring arms;
And when Ambition's voice commands

To march, and fight, and fall in foreign lands.
I hate that drum's discordant sound,
Parading round, and round, and round;
To me it talks of ravaged plains,
And burning towns, and ruin'd swains,
And mangled limbs, and dying groans,
And widows' tears, and orphans' moans,
And all that Misery's hand bestows,
To fill the catalogue of human woes.

SCOTT of Amwell.

tokens of love at Newyere's Tide, or for fairings, as they in their minds shall be disposed to write." The stanza most in point I transcribe :

"Rosemarie is for remembrance
Between us daie and night;
Wishing that I may alwaies have
You present in my sight."

In Rowley's "Noble Soldier, 1634," some of the characters who have con

spired to kill the king enter with sprigs of rosemary in their hats, and one of them says

"There's but one part to play; shame has done her's,

But execution must close up the scene; And for that cause these sprigs are worn by all,

Badges of marriage, now of funeral.”

I may add that, in Staffordshire, the use of rosemary at weddings and funerals, but particularly at the latter, is still com

MR. HONE,

April 13. ROSEMARY.

The properties fancifully ascribed to certain herbs and flowers were regulated by an alliterative connexion between the flower and that which it was held to denote. Thus rosemary, as you have shown at p. 38, stood for remembrance and rejoicing, gilliflowers for gentleness, marygold for mirth and marriage; and so on. This appears from a ballad quoted partially by Mr. Douce, occurring in Robinson's "Handfull of Pleasant Deites, p. 84," 16mo. It is entitled a "Nosegaie alwayies sweet, for lovers to send for

April 14.

A melancholy tale is connected with the annals of London Bridge. The son of Sir William Temple, the bosom counsellor of William of Nassau, yet the honest adviser of James II., when his father declined to take a share in the new government, accepted the office of secretary at war. His interest procured the release of Captain Hamilton from the tower, where he was confined on a charge of high treaHis liberation was obtained by Mr. Temple, upon a promise from Captain Hamilton that he would repair to the earl of Tyrconnel, then in arms for King James, in Ireland, and persuade him to submit. On arriving in that country, Hamilton immediately joined the insurgents, and led on a regiment to the attack of King William's troops. The taunts of rival cour

son.

tiers, and the ingratitude of one whom he had so loved and trusted, threw Mr. Temple into a profound melancholy. On the 14th of April, 1689, he hired a boat on the Thames, and directed the waterman to shoot the bridge; at that instant he flung himself into the cataract, and, having filled his pockets with stones, immediately sunk. He left a note in the boat to this effect: My folly in undertaking what I was unable to perform has done the king and kingdom a great deal of prejudice; I wish him all happiness, and abler servants than John Temple."

MIXED CONDITION OF HUMAN LIFE.

There is, in this world, a continual interchange of pleasing and greeting accidence, still keeping their succession of times, and overtaking each other in their several courses: no picture can be all drawn in the brightest colours, nor a harmony consorted only of trebles; shadows are needful in expressing of proportions, and the bass is a principal part in perfect music; the condition here alloweth no unmeddled joy; our whole life is temperate, between sweet and sour, and we must all look for a mixture of both the wise so wish: better that they still think of worse, accepting the one, if it come with liking, and bearing the other without impatience, being so much masters of each other's fortunes, that neither shall work them to excess. The dwarf groweth not on the highest hill, nor the tall man loseth not his height in the lowest valley; and, as a base mind, though most at ease, will be dejected, so a resolute virtue, in the deepest distress, is most impregnable. R. Southwell, 1569.

birds chiefly appear in short flights, which have much the appearance of leaps, under the hedges. As the morning gets warm, however, a few are found running along the furrows, and one brown fellow, perched on a clod, partially erecting a crest of feathers, and looking around him with a mingled air of complacency and confidence, utters a "churr-ee" in an under tone, as if he were trying the lowest and the highest notes of an instru ment. The notes are restrained, but they have enough of music in them to cause you to wish for a repetition. That, however, does not in general come; but instead of it there is a single "churr" murmured from a little distance, and so soft as hardly to be audible; and the bird that was stationed upon the clod has vanished, nor can you for some time find out what has become of him. His flight is at first upward, and bears some resemblance to the smoke of a fire on a calm day, gradually expanding into a spiral as it rises above the surface. But, no sooner has he gained the proper elevation, than down showers his song, filling the whole air with the most cheerful melody; and you feel more gay, more glee and lifting up of the heart, than when any other music meets your ear. The opening of the day and of the year comes fresh to your fancy, as you instinctively repeat

"Hark, the lark at heaven's gate sings."

We have many songsters, and the spring is the season when they make all the country one orchestra; but the countryman's bird, the bird that is most naturally associated with the freshness of the vernal day and the labors of the field. is the lark.

The time when the lark is first in song, and the general appearance and habits of the bird, render it a favorite; and even the boys, in their nesting excursions, hold the humble couch of the lark in a sort of veneration. In regions warmer than England, where vegetation is apt to suffer from locusts, the lark is very useful, as it feeds its young with their eggs; and as snails and worms are the food of the young birds in all countries, and the principal food of the parents in the breeding season, it is a most useful bird every where.

The bird is the very emblem of freedom: floating in the thin air, with spreading tail and outstretched wings, and moving its little head, delightedly, first to one side and then to the other, as if it would