the view, in as close and regular array as haycocks in a meadow. A continued splash was produced by the garbage as it was thrown overboard, and you may judge, if you can, how many thousands of cod and ling have been destroyed, before the whole bottom of this harbour has been paved with their heads.
The thick fog rolled around us, impelled by the chill breeze of the east. Mountains high and bleak we knew were near, but as yet the landscape was concealed from our view. At length the mist disperses, reft by the northern blasts, the sun appears riding among the fleeting vapours, and now the curtain rises, when lo ! what a magnificent prospect presents itself ! craggy cliffs, with masses of snow still hanging to their sides, and from whose summits, under sheets of ice, cataracts rush in fury towards the plain. The dismal table-lands form a striking contrast with the beautiful verdure below. Turning towards the south-west, where lay my cherished land, I beheld the precipitous shores of Newfoundland, with masses of ice between, fixed to the foundations of the deep, their everchanging prismatic tints dazzling the eye. But hark ! the song of the Shore I.ark fills the air, as the warbler mounts on high. "Man the whale-boat," cries the watchful captain; "young friends, let us off to the shore," say I; and soon were we all at the place where Ave had seen the bird alight.
Although in the course of our previous rambles along the coast of Labrador, and among the numberless islands that guard its shores, I had already seen this Lark in the act of breeding, never before that day did I so much enjoy its song, and never before I reached this singular spot, had I to add to my joys that of finding its nest. Here I found the bird in the full perfection of plumage and song, and here I had an opportunity of studying its habits, which I will now, kind reader, endeavour to describe.
The Shore Lark breeds on the high and desolate tracts of Labrador, in the vicinity of the sea. The face of the country appears as if formed of one undulated expanse of dark granite, covered with mosses and lichens, varying in size and colour, some green, others as white as snow, and others again of every tint, and disposed in large patches or tufts. It is on the latter that the Lark places her nest, which is disposed with so much care, while the moss so resembles the bird in hue, that unless you almost tread upon her as she sits, she seems to feel secure, and remains unmoved. Should you, however, approach so near, she flutters away, feigning lameness so cunningly, that none but one accustomed to the sight can refrain
