THE EMIGRANT'S LARK. [From Sir Francis B. Head's forthcoming work, " The Emigrant."]

New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume III, Issue 181, 24 April 1847, Page 4

THE EMIGRANT'S LARK. [From Sir Francis B. Head's forthcoming work, " The Emigrant."]

Henry Patterson and his wife Elizabeth sailed from the Tower in the year 1834, as emigrants, on board a vessel heavily laden with passengers, and bound to Quebec. Patterson was an intimate friend of a noted bird-catcher in London, called Charley Nash. Now Nash had determined to make his friend a present of a good sky lark to take to Canada with him ; but not having what is called " a real good un" among his collection, he went into the country to trap one. In this effort he succeeded, but when he returned to London he found that his friend Patterson had embarked, and that the vessel had sailed a few hours before he reached the Tower-stairs. He, therefore, jumped on board a steamer that was starting, and overlook the ship just as she reached Gravesend, where he hired a small boat, and then sculling alongside he 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 io 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 iv the air, it will be the best you have ever heard." Patterson descending a few steps from the gang-way stretched out bis hand and received the bird, which he immediately called Charley, in remembrance of his faithful friend Nash. In the Gulf of St. Lawrence the vessel was wrecked ; almost everything was lost except the lives of the crew and passengers ; and accordingly when Patterson, with his wife hangJ ing heavily on his arm, landed in Canada, he was destitute of everything he had on board excepting Charley, whom he had preserved and afterwards kfpt for three days in the foot of an old stocking. After some few sorrows, and after some little time, Patterson settled himself 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 iuto the outside of his window, and regularly every morning, just before lie sat upon his stool to commence his daily work, he carefully hung upon this nail a common skylark's cage, which had a solid back of dark uood, with a bow or small wire orchestra iv lront, 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 bopping on and off his little stage ; and this sometimes he would continue to do most cheerfully for hours, stopping ouly occasionally to dip his bill into a small square tin box of water suspended on one side, and then to raise it a second or two towards ihe sky. As soon, however, as (and only when) his spirit nuved him, this feathered captive again hopped upon his stage, and there, standing upon a piece 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 CanaJa can probably be imagined by those only w ho either by adversity have been prematurely weaned from their mother country, or who, from long continued absence 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 amusement, as if by word of command, stopped, spellbound, to listen, for more or less time, to the inspired warbling, to the joyful hallelujahs of a common homely-dressed English lark. Reformers, as they leaned towards him, heard nothing in his enchanting melody which even they could desire to improve. I believe that in the hearts of the most obdurate Radicals he reanimated feelings of youthful "attachment to their mother country ; and that even the trading Yankee, in whose country birds of the most gorgeous plumage snuffle rather than siug, must have acknowledged that the heavent orn talent of this little bird unaccountably warmed tlfe Anglo-Saxon blood that flowed in his veins. I must own that, although I »1-

ways refrained from joining Charley's motley audience, yet, while he 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 strongly 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 purgatory on his lap-stone, and then, with a waxed thread in each hand, suddenly extending his plbows like a scaramouch, three times was he interrupted in his v.ork by people who each separately offered him 100 dollars for his lark ; an old farmer repeatedly offered him 100 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 dv pays, that, walking into the shop, he offered for him all he possessed in the world, his horse and cart; but Patterson would sell him to no one. * * * On a certain evening of October, ] 837, the shutters of Pattersons shop window were half closed, on account of his having that morning been accidentally shot dead. The widow's prospects were thus suddenly ruined, her hopes blasted, her goods sold, and I need hardly say that I made myself the owner —the lord and master of poor Pattersons lark. It was my earnest desire, if possible, to better his condition, and I certainly felt very proud lo possess him ; but somehow or other this " Charley-is-my-darling" sort of feeling evidently was uot reciprocal. Whether it was that, in the conservatory of Government House at Toronto, Charley missed the sky — whether it was that he disliked the movement, or rather want of movement, in my elbows — or whether, from some mysterious feelings, some strange fancy or misgiving, the chamber of his little mind was hung with black, I can only say 'that during the three months he remained in my service 1 could never induce him to open his mouth, and that up to the last hour of my departure he would never sing to me. On leaving Canada, I gave him to Daniel Orris, an honest, faithful, loyal friend, who had accompanied me to the province. His station in lite was about equal to that of poor Patterson ; and accordingly, so soon as the bird was hung by him ou the outside of hs humble dwelling, he 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 Executive Council — the House of Assembly of the province had ceased for ever to exist — he sang all the whilo 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 Russell and Sydenham were arranging, effecting, and perpetuating upon the United Provinces ot Canada the baneful domination of what they called " responsible government ;" and then, feeling that the voice of an English lark could no longer be of any service to that 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 London — the gentleman who stuffs for the British Museum — who told me, to my great | joy, that these remains were perfectly uninjured. After 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, — iv short, in the attitude of singing,

just as I have described him. I have had the whole covered with a large g'ass case, and upon the dark wooden back of the cage there is pasted a piece of white paper, upon which I have written the following words : — " This lark, taken to Canada by a poor emigrant, was shipwrecked in the St. Lawrence, and after singing in Toronto for nine years, died there on the 14th of March, 1843, universally regretted. Home ! Home ! Sweet Home !"