T 
 
 /^^^^^ Jc^ 
 
 
 ^/a^,J 3/ /- /^^. 
 
f 
 
Hiiry injmjL 
 
•^T-r-r-* • 
 
 THE 
 
 LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 ' John James Audubon, 
 
 'J'//£ NATURALIST. 
 
 Edited by His Widow. 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY JAS. GRANT WILSON. 
 
 
 New York : 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM & SON, 
 
 1869. 
 
L 
 
 mh 
 
 6 
 
 6 9;e\ B R A ii"^ 
 
 i^ 
 
 ( rov 8 1963 I 
 
 ^S^^/TV Of ^05^ 
 
 8e673a 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1SC8, 
 
 MRS. JOHN .T. AUDUBON, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United Slates for the 
 
 Soulheru District of New York. 
 
 > - r. 
 
 THE TROW & SMITH 
 BOOK MANUFACTURING COMPANY 
 i6, 48, 50 Greene Street, N. Y. 
 
^0-eXS^^^ 
 
 ■^•cJ^^z^ 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 In the summer of 1867, the widow of John James Audubon, 
 completed with the aid of a friend, a memoir of the great natu- 
 ralist, and soon after received overtures from a London pub- 
 lishing house for her work. Accepting their proposition for 
 its publication in England, Mrs. Audubon forwarded the MSS., 
 consisting in good part of extracts from her husband's journals 
 and episodes, as he termed his delightful reminiscences of 
 adventure in various parts of the New World. The London 
 publishers placed these MSS. in the hands of Mr. Robert 
 Buchanan, who prepared from them a single volume contain- 
 ing about one fifth of the original manuscript. 
 
 The following pages are substantially the recently published 
 work, reproduced with some additions, and the omission 
 of several objectionable passages inserted by the London ed- 
 itor. Should Mrs. Audubon hereafter receive her manuscript, 
 containing sufficient material for four volumes of printed mat- 
 ter, and including many charming episodes " born from his 
 traveling thigh, " as Ben Jonson quaintly expressed it, 
 the American public may confidently look forward to other 
 volumes, uniform with this one, of the Naturalist's writings. 
 
 I do not deem it necessary to say aught in commenda- 
 tion of the labors of the loving and gentle wife in preparing the 
 following admirable memoir of her grand and large-hearted 
 husband, — 
 
 *' That cheerful one, who knoweth all 
 The songs of all the winged choristers, 
 And in one sequence of melodious sound, 
 Pours out their music." 
 
 Her delightful volume will better speak for itself. Nor 
 do I deem it requisite to dwell at length on the works of 
 
iv Introduction. 
 
 Audubon, pronounced by Baron Cuvier to be " the most splen- 
 did monuments which art has erected in honor of ornithology. " 
 
 He was an admirable specimen of the Hero as a man of 
 science. To quote an eloquent writer: *' For sixty years or 
 more he followed, with more than religious devotion, a beautiful 
 and elevated pursuit, enlarging its boundaries hy his discov- 
 eries, and ilh'strpting its objects by his art. In all climates 
 and in all weathers ; scorched by burning suns, drenched by 
 piercing rains, frozen by the fiercest colds ; now diving fear- 
 lessly into the densest forest, now wandering alone over the 
 most savage regions ; in perils, in difficulties, and in doubts ; 
 with no companion to cheer his way, far from the smiles and 
 applause of society ; listening only to the sweet music of birds, 
 or to the sweeter music of his own thoughts, he faithfully kept 
 his path. The records of man's life contain few nobler ex- 
 amples of strength of purpose and indefatigable energy. Led 
 on solely by his jDure, lofty, kindling enthusiasm, no thirst for 
 wealth, no desire of distinction, no restless ambition of ec- 
 centric character, could have induced him to underijo as manv 
 sacrifices, or sustained him under so many trials. Higher 
 principles and worthier motives alone enabled him to meet 
 such discouragements and accomplish such miracles of 
 achievement. He has enlarged and enriched the domains of 
 a pleasing and useful science ; he has revealed to us the ex- 
 istence of many species of birds before unknown ; he has 
 given us more accurate information of the forms and habits 
 of those that wxre known ; he has corrected the blunders of 
 his predecessors ; and he has imparted to the study of natu- 
 ral history the grace and fascination of romance." 
 
 Of the man himself, Christopher North said, after speak- 
 ing lovingly and appreciatively of him, " He is the greatest 
 Artist in his own walk, that ever lived." The love of his vo- 
 cation, after innumerable trials, successes and disappointments 
 gave the lie to the Qiiofit MaccP7ias of Horace, and was to the 
 eid of his long life most intense. Neither his friends. Sir Wal- 
 te>. S^^tt, or John Wilson, notably happy as they were in their 
 home relations occupied a place in the domestic circle of hus- 
 band and father, with a more beautiful display of kind, enno- 
 bling, and generous devotion, than John James Audubon ; and 
 
Introduction, V 
 
 nothing in his whole character stands out in a purer and more 
 honorable light, than his discharge of all the duties of home. 
 In private life his virtues endeared him to a large circle of 
 devoted admirers ; his sprightly conversation, with a slight 
 French accent ; his soft and gentle voice ; his frank and fine 
 face, " aye gat him friends in ilka place." With those whose 
 privilege it was to know the Naturalist, so full of fine enthusi- 
 asm and intelligence ; with so much simplicity of character, 
 frankness and genius, he will continue to live in their memories, 
 though " with the buried gone ; " while to the artistic, litera- 
 ry, and scientific world, he has left an imperishable name that 
 is not in the keeping of history alone. Long after the bronze 
 statue of the naturalist that we hope soon to see erected in 
 the Central Park, shall have been wasted and worn beyond 
 recognition, by the winds and rains of Heaven ; while the 
 towering and snow-covered peak of the Rocky Mountains 
 known as Mount Audubon, shall rear its lofty head among 
 the clouds ; while the little wren chirps about our homes, and 
 the robin and reed-bird sing in the green meadows ; while the 
 melody of the mocking-bird is heard in the cypress swamps 
 of Louisiana, or the shrill scream of the eagle on the frozen 
 shores of the Northern seas, the name of John James Audu- 
 bon, the gifted Artist, the ardent lover of Nature, and the 
 admirable writer, will live in the hearts of his grateful coun- 
 trymen. 
 
 In the preface to the London edition of this work, I find 
 the following just and generous wcrds : — 
 
 " Audubon was a man of genius, with the courage of a 
 Hon and the simplicity of a child. One scarcely knows which 
 to admire most — the mighty determination which enabled him 
 to carry out his great work in the face of difficulties so huge, 
 or the gentle and guileless sweetness with which he through- 
 out shared his thoughts and aspirations with his wife and 
 children. He was more like a child at the mother s knee, 
 than a husband at the hearth — so free was the prattle, so thor- 
 ough the confidence. Mrs. Audubon appears to have been a 
 wife in every respect worthy of such a man ; willing to sacri- 
 fice her personal comfort at any moment for the furtherance 
 of his great schemes ; ever ready with kiss and counsel when 
 
^^ ' Introduction, ' 
 
 such were most needed ; never failing for a moment in her 
 faith that Audubon was destined to* be one of the great work- 
 ers of the earth. 
 
 " The man's heart was restless ; otherwise he would never 
 have achieved so much. He must wander, he must vagabon- 
 dize, he must acquire ; he was never quite easy at the hearth. 
 His love for Nature was passionate indeed, pursuing in all re- 
 gions, burning in him to the last. Among the most touch- 
 ing things in the diary, are the brief exclamations of joy when 
 something in the strange city — a flock of wild ducks overhead 
 in London, a gathering of pigeons on the trees of Paris — re- 
 minds him of the wild life of wood and plain. He was boy-like 
 to the last, glorying most when out of doors. 
 
 " Of the work Audubon has done, nothing need be said 
 in praise here. Even were I competent to discuss his merits 
 as an ornithologist and ornithological painter, I should be si- 
 lent, for the world has already settled those merits in full. I 
 may trust myself, however, to say one word in praise of Au- 
 dubon as a descriptive writer. Some of his reminiscences of 
 adventure, some of which are published in this book, seem to 
 me to be quite as good, in vividness of presentment and care- 
 ful coloring, as anything I have ever read." 
 
 J. G. W. 
 
 51 St. Mark's Place, 
 
 New York, April, 1869. 
 
-f^.C) 
 
 
 k^'- 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Audubon's Ancestry — His Childhood — First Visit to America— 
 The Bakewell Family — Aspirations — Youthful Recollections — 
 A Marvellous Escape. 1 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Result of Audubon's Voyage to France — Renewal of Bird-hunting 
 Pursuits — Return to America. 23 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Return of Mrs. Audubon to her Father's House — Audubon and 
 Rosier move to Hendersonville. . . . • . . 34 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Return Journey to Hendersonville — Terrible Adventure on the 
 Prairie — Starts in Business at Hendersonville, and Succeeds 
 — Commences to draw Portraits. .... 46 
 
 CPIAPTER V. 
 
 Rambles in Kentucky — Daniel Boone, the Famous Hunter. 59 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Audubon leaves Cincinnati with Captain Cummings — ^Arrival at 
 Natchez — Departure for New Orleans — Arrival at New Or- 
 leans — Want of Success — Vanderlj-n, the Painter — Audu- 
 bon leaves New Orleans for Kentucky — Return to New Or- 
 leans — Review of Work done since leaving Home. . ^i 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Wife and Sons arrive at New Orleans — Difficulties of Obtaining a 
 Livelihood — Audubon's Arrival at Natchez — Audubon stud- 
 
viii Contents, 
 
 ies Oil Painting — Visit to Bayou Sara — Leav for Louis- 
 ville wi'-h his son Victor — Wanderings through the Wilds — 
 Residence at Louisville — The W^aste of Waters — The Flood- 
 ed Forest. %'^ 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 Audubon reaches Philadelphia — Introduction to Sully the Painter 
 
 — Meetings with Rosier and Joseph Mason — Audubon leaves 
 Philadelphia — Arrival at New York — Leaves New York, 
 and arrives at Albany — Visit to Niagara — A Voyage down 
 the Ohio to the South — Arrival at Cincinnati — Tunis Dan- 
 cing-master. , ICO 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Audubon Sails from New Orleans for England on board the Delos 
 
 — Incidents of the Voyage — Arrival at Liverpool — Visit to 
 Manchester — Opening of Subscription-book for great work — 
 Edinburgh — Drawings exhibited at the Royal Institution. liS 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Edinburgh — The Royal Society — Scott — Edinburgh People — 
 Sydney Smith and a Sermon — Miss O'Neill the Actress — 
 Mrs. Grant of Laggan — Prospectus of the Great Work. 135 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Provincial Canvass for Subscribers — Visit to London — The Great 
 Work in Progress — Honors of London. . . . 149 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 Visit to Paris — Baron Cuvier — Reception at the Academy of Sci- 
 ences — Farewell to France. . . . . ,' 161 
 
 CHAPTER Xm. / 
 
 Return to London — Sets Sail for America — !f fiends in New 
 York. ' . . iSi 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Meeting with his Wife and Sons — Return with his Wi^ to 
 England — Provincial Canvass — East Florida. . . 197 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Floridian Episodes — The Live Oakers. . . • • 235 
 
Contents, ix 
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 Third Florida Epiiode ; Spring Garden. .... 228 
 
 CHAPTER XVni. 
 Fifth Florida Episode : Deer Hunting 235 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 Sixth Florida Episode : Sandy Island 243 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Seventh Florida Episode : The Wreckers. . • • 249 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 Eighth Florida Episode : The Turtlers 257 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Ninth Florida Episode : Death of a Pirate. . . . 267 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 In America: Episode in New Brunswick. . . . 274 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Episode in Maine : The Maine Lumbermen, . . . 2S1 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 Visit to the Bay of Fundy. 288 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Return to Boston — Wanderings in the Neighborhood — Voyage 
 to Labrador in the Schooner Ripley — Misadventures at Little 
 River — Seal and Mud Islands — The Gut of Canseau. 295 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIL 
 
 En Route to Labrador — Gut of Canseau — Magdalene Island — 
 The Inhabitants — Ornitholigical Notes — Birds on the Rock 
 — First Impressions of Labrador — Halifax Eggers. . 306 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 Labrador Episodes : The Eggers of Labrador. . . 317 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Notes in Labrador — Indians — Civilities on Board the Quebec 
 Cutter — The Fur Company — Severe Weather — Winds and 
 
X ^ Contents. 
 
 Rain — Excursions on Shore — Hut of a Labrador Seal-Catch^ 
 er — Great Macatine Islands — Officers' Bivouac Ashore. 323 
 
 CHArXER XXX. 
 Labrador Episodes : The Squatters of Labrador. . 351 
 
 CHx\PTER XXXL 
 
 Notes on Labrador — Gulf of St. Lawrence — St. George's Bay, 
 Newfoundland — Land on Ruy's Island — Wanderings C . cr- 
 land — Pictou — Truro and the Bay of Fundy — Arrival at 
 Halifax, Nova Scotia — Arrival at New York. . 359 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIL 
 Journal Resumed — Washington Irving — W^anderings South ~ 
 Florida Excursion Abandoned — Returns Isi orth — Sails for 
 England — Visit to Baron Rothschild — Removal to Edinburgh 
 — Return to London — Embarks with much Live Stock to 
 New York — Notes by the Way 376 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIIL 
 
 In America — Philadelphia — Boston — Friends and Birds — Meet- 
 ing with Daniel Webster — Back to New York — Social Meet- 
 ings — Washington — Two Letters of Washington Irving — 
 Interview with the President — Proposed Scientific Expedi- 
 tion. . . . * . . . 386 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Excursion South — Starts in Cutter for Galveston Bay, Texas — 
 Barataria Bay — Great Hunting Excursion with a Squatter — 
 Notes in Texas — Buffalo Bayou — Texas Capitol and 
 Houses of Congress — Reaches New Orleans — In England 
 Again — Literary Labors — Back to America. . 400 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 Excursion to the Great Western Prairies — Up the Missouri — Riv- 
 er Pictures — The Mandans — The "Medicine Lodge" — 
 Ricaree Indians — Fort Union — Buffalo Hunt — Small-Pox 
 among the Indians — Return to New York. • . 417 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVL 
 Audubon's Last Days — His Habits — Love of Music — Description 
 of Audubon Park — His Library and Studio — Visitors — Ex- 
 hibition of Drawings — Mental Gloaming — Loss of Sight — 
 The Naturalist's Death and Funeral. . . . 435 
 
Life of Audubon. 
 
 CHATTER L 
 
 Audubon'' s Ancestry — His Childhood — First Visit to America — 
 The Bakewell Family — Aspirations — Youthful Recollectioit% — 
 A Marvellous Escape. 
 
 HE name of Audubon is of French origin ; it is 
 extremely rare, and while confined in America 
 to the family of the naturalist, has in France been 
 traced only among his ancestry. Audubon has told us 
 all that he knew of his relations. He writes : " John 
 Audubon my grandfather was born at the small village 
 of Sable d'Olonne, in La Vendue, with a small harbor, 
 forty-five miles south from Nantes. He was a poor fisher- 
 man with a numerous family, twenty-one of whom grew to 
 maturity. There was but one boy besides my father, he 
 being the twentieth born, and the only one of the numer- 
 ous family who lived to a considerable age. In subse- 
 quent years, when I visited Sable d'Olonne, the old 
 inhabitants told me that they had seen the whole of this 
 family, including both parents, at church several times on 
 Sunday." 
 
 The father of the naturalist appears to have caught at 
 an early age the restless spirit of his times, and ///> father, 
 who saw in it the only hope the youth had of obtaining 
 distinction, encouraged his love of adventure. He him- 
 self says of his start in life : " When I was twelve years of 
 age my father provided me with a shirt, a dress of warm 
 clothing, his blessing, and a cane, and sent me out to seek 
 my fortune." 
 
1 2 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 The youth went to Nantes, and falling in with the 
 captain of a vessel bound on a fishing voyage to the coast 
 of America, he shipped on board as a boy before the mast. 
 He continued at sea, and by the age of seventeen was 
 rated as an able-bodied seaman. At twenty-one he com- 
 manded a vessel, and at twenty-five he was owner and 
 captain of a small craft. Purchasing other vessels, the 
 enterprising adventurer sailed with his little fleet to the 
 West Indies. He reached St. Domingo, and there fortune 
 dawned upon him. After a few more voyages he pur- 
 chased a small estate. The prosperity of St. Domingo, 
 already French, so influenced the mariner's interests, that 
 in ren years he realized a considerable fortune. Obtain- 
 ing an appointment from the Governor of St. Domingo, 
 he returned to France, and in his ofiicial capacity became 
 intimate with influential men connected with the govern- 
 ment of the First Empire. Through their good offices he 
 obtained an appointment in the Imperial navy and the 
 command of a small vessel of war. A warm sympathy 
 with the changes wrought by the revolution, and an 
 idolatrous worship of Napoleon, must have contributed 
 gready to his success. 
 
 While resident in France he purchased a beautiful 
 estate on the Loire, nine miles from Nantes ; — there, 
 after a life of remarkable vicissitude, the old sailor died, 
 in 1818, at the great age of ninety -five, regretted, as 
 he deserved to be, on account of his simplicity of man- 
 ners and perfect sense of honesty. Our Audubon has 
 described his father as a man of good proportions, 
 measuring five feet ten inches in height, having a hardy 
 constitution and the agility of a wild cat. His manners, 
 it is asserted, were most polished, and his natural gifts 
 improved by self-education. He had a warm and even 
 violent temper, described as rising at times into "the 
 blast of a hurricane," but readily appeased. While 
 
His Early Tears, 13 
 
 residing in the West Indies, he frequently visited Nordi 
 America, and with some foresight made purchases of land 
 in the French colony of Louisiana, in Virginia, and Penn- 
 sylvania. In one of his American visits he met and 
 married in Louisiana a lady of Spanish extraction, named 
 Anne Moynette, whose beauty and wealth may have made 
 her equally attractive. A family of three sons and one 
 daughter blessed this union, and the subject of this 
 biographical sketch was the youngest of the sons. A few 
 years after his birth Madame Audubon accompanied her 
 husband to the estate of Aux Cayes in the island of St. 
 Domingo, and there miserably perished during the memo- 
 rable rising of the negro population. - ; • 
 
 The black revolt so endangered the property of the 
 foreigners resident in St. Domingo, that the plate and 
 money belonging to the Audubon family had to be carried 
 away to New Orleans by the more faithful of their servants. 
 Returning to France with his family, the elder Audubon 
 again married, left his young son, the future naturalist, 
 under charge of his second wife, and returned to the 
 United States, in the employment of the French govern- 
 ment, as an officer in the Imperial navy. While there he 
 became attached to the army under Lafayette. Moving 
 hither and thither under various changes, he seldom or 
 never communicated with his boy ; but meanwhile the prop- 
 erty which remained to him in St. Domingo was greatly 
 augmenting in value. During a visit paid to Pennsylvania, 
 the restless Frenchman purchased the farm of Millgrove on 
 the Perkiomen Creek, near the Schuylkill Falls. Finally, 
 after a life of restless adventure, he returned to France 
 and filled a post in the marine ; and after spending some 
 portion of his years at Rochefort, retired to his estate sn 
 the Loire. This estate was left by Commodore Audubon to 
 his son John James, who conveyed it to his sister without 
 even visiting the domain he so generously willed away. 
 
14 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 The naturalist was born on his father's plantation, 
 near New Orleans, Louisiana, May 4th, 1780, and 
 his earliest recollections are associated with lying 
 among the flowers of that fertile land, sheltered by the 
 orange trees, and watching the movements of the 
 mocking-bird, " the king of song," dear to him in after 
 life from many associations. He has remarked that his 
 earliest impressions of nature were exceedingly vivid ; the j 
 beauties of natural scenery stirred " a frenzy " in his 
 blood, and at the earliest age the bent of his future studies 
 was indicated by many characteristic traits. He left 
 Louisiana while but a child, and went to St. Domingo, 
 where he resided for a short period, previous to his 
 departure for France, where his education was to be 
 commenced. 1 
 
 His earliest recollections of his life in France extend 
 to his home in the central district of the city of Nantes, 
 and a fact he remembered well was being attended by two 
 colored servants sent home from India by his father. 
 He speaks of his life in Nantes as joyous in the extreme. 
 His step-mother, being without any children of her own, 
 humored the child in every whim, and indulged him in 
 every luxury. The future naturalist, who in the recesses 
 of American forests was to live on roots and fruits, and 
 even scantier fare, was indulged with a " carte blanche " 
 on all the confectionery shops in the village where his 
 summer months were passed, and he speaks of the kind- 
 ness of his stepmother as overwhelming. His father 
 had less weakness, and ordered the boy to attend to his 
 education. The elder Audubon had known too many 
 changes of fortune to believe in the fickle goddess; and 
 notwithstanding his wife's tears and entreaties, detemiining 
 to educate his son thoroughly, as the safest inheritance 
 he could leave him, he sent the young gentleman 
 straightway to school. Audubon laments that educatior 
 
His Early Tears, tji 
 
 In France was but miserably attended to during the 
 ^ears that succeeded the great political convulsions. 
 Military education had usurped all the care of the First 
 Empire, and the wants of the civil population were but 
 sparingly heeded. His father, from natural predilections, 
 ivas desirous that the boy should become a sailor, a cadet 
 in the French navy, or an engineer ; and with these views 
 Defore him, he decided on the course of study his son 
 jhould follow. Mathematics, drawing, geography, fencing 
 md music were among the branches of education pre- 
 scribed ; it being evident that a complex course of 
 nstruction was not among the misapprehensions the old 
 jailor's professional prejudices had nurtured. Audubon 
 lad, for music-master, an adept who taught him to play 
 idroitly upon the violin, flute, flageolet, and guitar. For 
 irawing-master, he had David, the chief inventor and 
 vorshipper of the abominations which smothered the 
 ispirations of French artists during the revolutionary 
 generation. Nevertheless it was to David that Audubon 
 )wed his earliest lessons in tracing objects of natural 
 listory. Audubon was, moreover, a proficient in dancing, 
 —an accomplishment which in after years he had more 
 )pportunities of practising among bears than among men. 
 
 Influenced by the military fever of his time, he 
 ireamed in his schooldays of being a soldier ; but 
 lappily for natural science his adventurous spirit found 
 mother outlet. Fortunately his instruction was under, 
 he practical guidance of his mother, and large scope was 
 illowed him for indulging in nest-hunting propensities. 
 Supplied with a haversack of provisions, he made 
 requent excursions into the country, and usually returned 
 oaded with objects of natural history, birds' nests, birds* 
 iggs, specimens of moss, curious stones, and other objects 
 ittractive to his eye. ■.-.-rj;.- : 
 
 When the old sailor returned from sea he was 
 
l6 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 astonished at the large collection his boy had made, paid 
 him some compliments on his good taste, and asked what 
 progress he had made in his other studies. No satisfac- 
 tory reply being given, he retired without reproach, but, 
 evidently mortified at the idleness of the young naturalist, 
 seemed to turn his attention towards his daughter, whose 
 musical attainments had been successfully cultivated. 
 On the day following the disclosure father and son 
 started for Rochefort, where the elder held some appoint- 
 ment. The journey occupied four days, and the pair did 
 not exchange one unnecessary word during the journey. 
 Reaching his official residence, the father explained that 
 he himself would superintend his son's education ; gave 
 the boy liberty for one day to survey the ships of war and 
 the fortifications, and warned him that on the morrow a 
 severe course of study should be commenced. And 
 commence it did accordingly. 
 
 More than a year was spent in the close study of 
 mathematics ; though whenever opportunity occurred the 
 severer study was neglected for rambles after objects of 
 natural history, and the collection of more specimens. 
 At Nantes, Audubon actually began to draw sketches of 
 French birds, — a work he continued with such assiduity 
 that he completed two hundred specimens. 
 
 His father was desirous that he should join the armies 
 of Napoleon, and win fame by following the French 
 eagles. Warfare, however, had ceased to be a passion of 
 the youth, and he was sent out to America to superintend 
 his father's property. He has recorded in affecting 
 language his regret at leaving behmd him the countr>^ 
 where he had spent his boyhood, the friends upon whose 
 affections he relied, the associations that had been 
 endeared to him. While the breeze wafted along the 
 great ship, hours were spent in deep sorrow or melancholy 
 musings. 
 
His first Visit to America, VJ 
 
 On landing at New York he caught the yellow fever, 
 by walking to the bank in Greenwich Street, to cash his 
 letters of credit. Captain John Smith, whose name is 
 gratefully recorded, took compassion on the young 
 emigrant, removed him to Morristown, and placed him 
 under the care of two Quaker ladies at a boarding-house, 
 and to the kindness of these ladies he doubtless owed his 
 life. His father's agent, Mr. Fisher, of Philadelphia, 
 knowing his condition, went with his carriage to his 
 lodging, and drove the invalid to his villa, situated at 
 some distance from the city on the road to Trenton. Mr. 
 Fisher was a Quaker, and a strict formalist in religious 
 matters ; did not approve of hunting, and even objected 
 to music. To the adventurous and romantic youth this 
 hom.e was little livelier than a prison, and he gladly 
 escaped from it. Mr. Fisher, at his request, put him in 
 possession of his father's property of Mill Grove, on the 
 Perkiomen Creek ; and from the rental paid by the tenant, 
 a Quaker named William Thomas, the youth found him- 
 self supplied with all the funds he needed. 
 
 At Mill Grove young Audubon found "a blessed 
 spot." In the regularity of the fences, the straight and 
 military exactness of the avenues, Audubon saw his fa- 
 ther's taste, nay, his very handiwork. The mill attached 
 to the property was to him a daily source of enjoyment, 
 and he was delighted with the repose of the quiet milldam 
 where the pewees were accustomed to build. "Hunting, 
 fishing, and drawing occupied my every moment," he 
 writes ; adding, " cares I knew not, and cared nothing for 
 them." 
 
 In simple and unaffected language he relates his 
 introduction to his wife, the daughter of William Bake- 
 well, an English gentleman who had purchased .he ad- 
 joining property. Mr. Bake well lived at Fatland Ford, 
 within sight of ]\Iill Grove, but Audubon had avoided the 
 
1 8 Life of Auduhon, • 
 
 family, as English, and objectionable to one who had been 
 nurtured with a hatred towards " perfidious Albion." The 
 very name of Englishman was odious to him, he tells us j 
 and even after his neighbor had called upon him, he was 
 uncivil enough to postpone his advances in return. Mrs. 
 Thomas, the tenant's wife at Mill Grove, with a woman's 
 desire to see what the issue might be, urged her young mas- 
 ter to visit the Bakewell family; but the more he was 
 urged the more hardened his heart appeared to be against 
 the stranger. - 
 
 • The winter's frosts had set in. Audubon was follow- 
 ing some grouse down the creek, when suddenly he came 
 upon Mr. Bakewell, who at once dissipated the French- 
 man's prejudices by the discovery of kindred tastes. 
 Audubon writes : " I was struck with the kind politeness 
 of his manners, and found him a most expert marksman, 
 and entered into conversation. I admired the beauty of 
 his well-trained dogs, and finally promised to call upon 
 him and his family. Well do I recollect the morning, and 
 may it please God may I never forget it, when, for the first 
 time I entered the Bakewell household. It happened 
 that Mr. Bakewell v/as from home. I was shown into a 
 parlour, where only one young lady was snugly seated at 
 work, with her back turned towards the fire. She rose on 
 my entrance, offered me a seat, and assured me of the 
 gratification her father would feel on his return, which, 
 she added with a smile, would be in a few minutes, as she 
 would send a servant after him. Other ruddy cheeks 
 made their appearance, but like spirits gay, vanished from 
 my sight. Talking and working, the young lady wiio 
 remained made the time pass pleasantly enough, and to 
 me especially so. It was she, my dear Lucy Bakewell, 
 who afterwards became my wife and the mother of my 
 children.'' 
 
 Mr. Bakewell speedily returned, and Lucy attended to 
 
T^he Bake-well Family. i g 
 
 the lunch provided before leaving on a shooting expedi- 
 tion. " Lucy rose from her seat a second time, and her 
 form, to which I had before paid little attention, seemed 
 radiant with beauty, and my heart and eyes followed her 
 every step. The repast being over, guns and dogs were 
 provided, and as we left I was pleased to believe that Lucy 
 looked upon me as a not very strange animal. Bowing to 
 ner, I felt, I knew not why, that I was at least not indif- 
 ferent to her." 
 
 The acquaintance so pleasantly begun rapidly matured. 
 Audubon and Bakewell were often companions in their 
 shooting excursions, and finally the whole Bakewell family 
 were invited to Mill Grove. 
 
 The Bakewell's are descendants of the Peverils, great 
 land owners of the northern part of Derbyshire, known as 
 the Peak of Derbyshire, and rendered historical by Sir 
 Walter Scott's novel of " Peveril of the Peak.** Miss 
 Peveril married one of the retainers of the Court of 
 William the Norman, by name Count Bassquelle, which 
 name was corrupted into Basskiel, afterwards into Bake- 
 well. From some of the descendants of this marriage the 
 town of Bakewell was founded ; some members removed 
 to Dishley, Leicestershire, one of whom w^as the grazier 
 and improver of the breed of sheep, another was well 
 known as a geologist. 
 
 The property of Audubon was separated from Bake- 
 well's plantation by a road leading from Norristown to 
 Pawling's Landing, now Pawling's Bridge, or about a 
 quarter of a mile apart; and the result of the friendly 
 relationship established between the two households gave 
 rise to a series of mutual signals, chalked on a board and 
 hung out of the window. The friendship deepened. Lucy 
 Bakewell taught English to Audubon, and received 
 drawing lessons in return. Of course no one failed to 
 predict the result j but as a love affair is chiefly interest- 
 
20 Life of Audubon. ... 
 
 ing to those immediately concerned, we pass on to other 
 
 matters. 
 
 At Mill Grove Audubon pored over his idea of a 
 great work on American Ornithology, until the thought 
 took some shape in his fervid mind. The work he had 
 prepared for himself to do was an ' Ornithological Biog- 
 raphy,' including an account of the habits and a descrip- 
 tion of the birds of America ; that work which in its 
 completed form Cuvier pronounced to be " The most 
 gigantic biblical enterprise ever undertaken by a single 
 individual." However, it was only after his drawings and 
 his descriptions accumulated upon him that Audubon de- 
 cided to give the collection the form of a scientific work. 
 
 Audubon speaks of his life at Mill Grove as being in 
 every way agreeable. He had ample means for all his 
 wants, was gay, extravagant, and fond of dress. He rath- 
 er naively writes in his journal, " I had no vices ; but was 
 thoughtless, pensive, loving, fond of shooting, fishing, and 
 riding, and had a passion for raising all sorts of fowls, 
 which sources of interest and amusement fully occupied 
 my time. It was one of my fancies to be ridiculously 
 fond of dress ; to hunt in black satin breeches, wear 
 pumps when shooting, and dress in the finest ruffled shirts 
 I could obtain fi-om France." He was also fond of danc- 
 ing, and music, and skating, and attended all the balls 
 and skating parties in the neighborhood. Regarding his 
 mode of life, Audubon gives some hints useful to those 
 who desire to strengthen their constitution by an abste- 
 mious diet. He says : — " I ate no butcher's meat, lived 
 chiefly on fruits, vegetables, and fish, and never drank a 
 glass of spirits or wine until my wedding day. To chis I 
 attribute my continual good health, endurance, and an 
 iron constitution. So strong was the habitj that I disliked 
 going to dinner parties, where people were expected to 
 indulge in eating and drinking, and where often there was 
 
I'he Bakewell Family. 21 
 
 not a single dish to my taste. I cared nothing for sump- 
 tuous entertainments. Pies, puddings, eggs, and milk or 
 cream was the food I liked best ; and many a time 
 was the dairy of Mrs. Thomas, the tenant's wife of Mill 
 Grove, robbed of the cream intended to make butter for 
 tlie Philadelphia market. All this while I was fair and 
 rosy, strong as any one of my age and sex could -be, and 
 as active and agile as a buck. And why, have I often 
 thought, should I not have kept to this delicious mode of 
 living?" 
 
 Note here a curious incident in connection with his 
 love of skating and his proficiency as a marksman. Hav- 
 ing been skating down the Perkiomen Creek, he met Miss 
 Bakewell's young brother William, and wagered that he 
 would put a shot through his cap when tossed into the air, 
 while Audubon was passing full speed. The experiment 
 was made, and the cap riddled. A. still more striking 
 incident is thus related. " Having engaged in a duck- 
 shooting expedition up the Perkiomen Creek with young 
 Bakewell and some other friends, it was found that the ice 
 was full of dangerous air-holes. On our upward journey 
 it wa«? easy to avoid accident, but the return trip was at- 
 tended with an event which had nearly closed my career. 
 Indeed, my escape was one of the inconceivable miracles 
 that occasionally rescues a doomed man from his fate. 
 The trip was extended too far, and night and darkness 
 had set in long before we reached home. I led the party 
 through the dusk with a white handkerchief made fast to 
 a stick, and we proceeded like a flock of geese going to 
 their feeding ground. Watching for air-holes, I generally 
 avoided them ; but increasing our speed, I suddenly 
 plunged into one, was carried for some distance by the 
 stream under the ice, and stunned and choking I was 
 forced up through another air-hole farther down the stream. 
 I clutched hold of the ice and arrested my downward 
 
22 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 progress, until my companions arrived to help me. My 
 wet clothes had to be changed. One lent me a shirt, 
 another a coat, and so apparelled I resumed my home- 
 ward journey. Unable to reach Mill Grove, I was taken 
 to Mr. Bakewell's house chilled and bruised. It was 
 three months before I recovered, notwithstanding the 
 advice of able physicians called in from Philadelphia." 
 
 The quiet life young Audubon led at Mill Grove was 
 interrupted by an incident in his life which might have 
 proved serious to one owning less energy and hardihood 
 than he possessed. A " partner, tutor, and monitor," 
 one Da Costa, sent from France by the elder Audubon 
 to prosecute the lead mine enterprise at Mill Grove, be- 
 gan to assume an authority over young Audubon which 
 the latter considered unwarranted. An attempt was made 
 to limit his finances, and Da Costa, unfortunately for 
 himself, went further, and objected to the proposed union 
 with Lucy Bakewell, as being an unequal match. Audu- 
 bon resented such interference, and demanded monev 
 from Da Costa to carry him to France. The French 
 r.dventurer suggested a voyage to India, but finally agreed 
 to give Audubon a letter of credit upon an agent named 
 Kanman, in New York. With characteristic earnestness 
 Audubon walked straight ofi" to New York, where he ar- 
 rived in three days, notwithstanding the severity of a 
 midwinter journey. The day following his arrival he call- 
 ed upon Mr. Kanman, who frankly told him he had no 
 money to give him, and further disclosed Da Costa's 
 treachery by hinting that Audubon should be seized and 
 shipped for China. Furious at his treatment, Audubon 
 procured money from a friend, and engaged a passage on 
 board the brig Hope, of New Bedford, bound for Nantes. 
 He left New York, and after considerable delays, surpris- 
 ed his parents in their quiet country home 
 
CHAPTER IL 
 
 Remit of Attdtiboii's Voyage to France — Renewal of Bird-hunting 
 Pursuits — Examination for the French Marine^ and Appoint- 
 ment to the Post of Midshipman — Return to America — Chased 
 by a Privateer — The Instiiicts of the Naturalist — Goes to Neiu 
 York to acquire a Kiiowledge of Business — Portrait of Himself 
 
 — Returns to Mill Grove — Marriage and Journey to Louisville 
 
 — ffis Settlement there and Pleasant Life — Removal of Business 
 to Hendersonville — Meeting with Alexander Wilson^ the Ameri- 
 can Ornithologist and Paisley Poet. 
 
 XPLAINING to his father the scandalous conduct 
 of Da Costa, young Audubon prevailed so far that 
 |i| the traitor was removed from the position which 
 he had been placed in with such hasty confidence. He 
 had also to request his father's approval of his marriage with 
 Miss Lucy Bakewell, and the father promised to decide as 
 soon as he had an answer to a letter he had written to Mr. 
 Bakewell in Pennsylvania. Settled in the paternal house 
 for a year, the naturalist gratified in every fashion his 
 wandering instincts. He roamed everywhere in the neigh- 
 borhood of his home, shooting, fishing, and collecting 
 specimens of natural history. He also continued his 
 careful drawings of natural history specimens, and stuffed 
 and prepared many birds and animals — an art which he 
 had carefully acquired in America. In one year two 
 hundred drawings of European birds had been completed, 
 — a fact which displays marvellous industry, if it does not 
 neccF \rily imply a sound artistic representation of the 
 birds drawn. At this period the tremendous convulsions 
 of the French empire had culminated in colossal prepa- 
 rations for a conflict with Russia. The conscription 
 
24 Life of Auduhon, t , 
 
 threatened every man capable of bearing arms, and Au- 
 dubon appeared to believe that he stood in some danger 
 of being enrolled in the general levy. His two brothers 
 were already serving in the armies of Napoleon as offi* 
 cers, and it was decided that their junior should volunta- 
 rily join the navy. After passing what he called "a 
 superficial examination " for an appointment as midship- 
 man, he was ordered to report at Rochefort. Entering 
 upon his duties in the French marine, he was destined to 
 make at least one short cruise in the service of France. 
 Before entering the service he had made the acquaintance 
 of a young man named Ferdinand Rosier, to whom he 
 had made some proposal of going to America. On the 
 return of the vessel in which he acted, it was proposed 
 that he and Rosier should leave for America as partners, 
 under a nine years' engagement. The elder Audubon 
 obtained leave of absence for his son ; and after pass- 
 ports were provided, the two emigrants left France at a 
 period when thousands would have been glad of liberty 
 to follow their footsteps. 
 
 About two weeks after leaving France, a vessel gave 
 chase to the French vessel, passed her by to windward, 
 fired a shot across her bows, and continued the chase 
 until the captain of the outward bound was forced to heave 
 his ship to, and submit to be boarded by a boat. The 
 enemy proved to be the English privateer. Rattlesnake, 
 the captain of which was sadly vexed to find that his prey 
 was an American vessel, carrying proper papers, and fly- 
 ing the stars and stripes. Unable to detain the vessel, 
 the privateer's crew determined at least to rob the pas- 
 sengers. " They took pigs and sheep," writes Audubon, 
 " and carried away two of our best sailors, in spite of the 
 remonstrances of the captain, and of a member of the 
 United States Congress, who was a passenger on board, 
 and was accompanied by an amiable daughter. The 
 
Adventure with a Privateer, 25 
 
 Rattlesnake kept us under her lee, and almost within 
 pistol-shot for a day and a night, ransacking the ship for 
 money, of which we had a great deal in the nm under the 
 ballast, which they partially removed, but did not go deep 
 enough to reach the treasure. The gold belonging to 
 Rosier and myself I put away in a woolen stocking under 
 the ship's cable in the bows of the ship, where it remain- 
 ed safe until the privateers had departed. Arriving 
 within thirty miles of Sandy Hook, a fishing-smack was 
 spoken, which reported that two British frigates lay off the 
 entrance, and had fired on an American ship ; that they 
 were impressing American seamen, and that, in fact, they 
 were even more dangerous to meet than the pirates who 
 sailed under " a letter of marque." The captain, warned 
 of one danger, ran into another. He took his vessel 
 through Long Island Sound, and ran it upon a spit in a 
 gale. But finally floated it off, and reached New York 
 in safety. 
 
 From the introductory address in the first volume of 
 Audubon's ' Ornithological Biography,' published at Ed- 
 inburgh, in 1834, many passages may be cited as an 
 exposition of the high aspirations which stimulated the 
 young naturalist to his task. These passages may be di- 
 vided into scientific and artistic. Belonging to the first 
 category are constant references to that thirst for accu- 
 rate and complete knowledge regarding wild animals, and 
 especially birds, their habits, forms, nests, eggs, progeny, 
 places of breeding, and all that concerned them. But, 
 after all, Audubon w^as not at heart a man of science. 
 He gathered much, and speculated little, and was more a 
 backwoodsman than a philosopher. In his rough great 
 way he did good service, but his great physical energy, 
 not his mental resources, was the secret of his success. 
 — His crude artistic instincts inspiredhim with the desire 
 to represent, by the aid of pencil, crayon, or paint, the 
 2 - 
 
26 Life of Audubon. , 
 
 fonn, plumage, attitude, and characteristic marks of his 
 feathered favourites. In working towards this end, he 
 labored to produce life-like pictures, and frequently with 
 wonderful success. Strongly impressed with the difficul- 
 ties of representing in any perfect degree the living image 
 of the birds he drew, he labored arduously at what we 
 may call forcible photographs in colours, his first aim 
 being fidelity, and his next, artistic beauty. How much 
 chagrin his failures cost him may be gleaned from the 
 lamentations he makes over his unsuccessful efforts in the 
 introductory address referred to above. Regarding the 
 means he adopted to secure a faultless representation of 
 the animals he desired to transcribe, he writes : — " Pa- 
 tiently and with industry did I apply myself to study, foi 
 although I felt the impossibility of giving life to my pro- 
 ductions, I did not abandon the idea of representing 
 nature. Many plans were successively adopted, many 
 masters guided my hand. At the age of seventeen, when 
 I returned from France, whither I had gone to receive the 
 rudiments of my education, my drawings had assumed a 
 form. David had guided my hand in tracing objects of 
 large size : eyes and noses belonging to giants and heads 
 of horses, represented in ancient sculpture, were my mod- 
 els. These, although fit subjects for men intent on pur- 
 suing the higher branches of art, were immediately laid 
 aside by me. I returned to the woods of the n3w world 
 with fresh ardour, and commenced a collection of draw- 
 ings, which I henceforth continued, and which is now 
 publishing under the title of * The Birds of America.' " 
 To resume the narrative of Audubon's journey back 
 to Mill Grove. Da Costa was dismissed from his situa- 
 tion, and Audubon remained his own master. Mr. 
 William Bakewell, the brother of Lucy, has recorded some 
 interesting particulars of a visit to Mill Grove at this 
 period. He says : — " Audubon took me to his house. 
 
His Accomplishments. 27 
 
 where he and his companion Rosier resided, with Mrs. 
 Thomas for an attendant. On entering his room, I was 
 astonished and delighted to find that it w^as turned into a 
 museum. The walls were festooned with all sorts of 
 birds' eggs, carefully blown out and strung on a thread.. 
 The chimney-piece was covered with stuffed squirrels, 
 racoons, and opossums ; and the shelves around were 
 likewise crowded with specimens, among which were 
 fishes, frogs, snakes, lizards, and other reptiles. Besides 
 these stuffed varieties, many paintings were arrayed upon 
 the walls, chiefly of birds. He had great skill in stuffing 
 and preserving animals of all sorts. He had also a trick 
 of training dogs with great perfection, of which art his 
 famous dog Zephyr was a wonderful example. He was 
 an admirable marksman, an expert swimmer, a clever 
 rider, possessed great activity, prodigious strength, and 
 was notable for the elegance of his figure and the beauty 
 of his features, and he aided nature by a careful attend- 
 ance to his dress. Besides other accomplishments, he 
 was musical, a good fencer, danced w^ell, had some ac- 
 quaintance with legerdemain tricks, worked in hair, and 
 could plait willow-baskets." He adds further, that 
 Audubon once swam across the Schuylkill river with 
 him on his back, — no contemptible feat for a young ath- 
 lete. 
 
 The naturalist was evidently a nonpareil in the eyes 
 of his neighbors, and of those who were intimate enough 
 to know his manifold tastes. But love began to interfere 
 a little with the gratification of these Bohemian instincts. 
 On expressing his desire of uniting himself to Miss 
 Bakewell, Audubon was advised by Mr. Bakewell to ob- 
 tain some knowledge of commercial pursuits before get- 
 ting married. With this intention, Audubon started for 
 New York, entered the counting-house of Mr. Benjamin 
 Bakewell, and made rapid progress in his education by 
 
28 Life of Auduhon. v 
 
 losing some hundreds of pounds by a bad speculation in 
 indigo. : • , 
 
 The leading work done by the imprisoned naturalist 
 was, as usual, wandering in search of birds and natural 
 curiosities. While so engaged he made the acquaintance 
 of Dr. Samuel Mitchel, one of the leading medical men 
 in New York city, and distinguished as an ethnologist. 
 Dr. Mitchel was one of the founders of the Lyceum of 
 Natural History, and of the * Medical Repository,' which 
 was the first scientific journal started in the United States. 
 Audubon prepared many specimens for this gentleman, 
 which he believed were finally deposited in the New York 
 Museum. After a season of probation, during which Mr. 
 Bakewell became convinced of the impossibility of tutor- 
 ing Audubon into mercantile habits, the naturalist gladly 
 returned to Mill Grove. Rosier, who had likewise been 
 recommended to attempt commerce, lost a considerable 
 sum in an unfortunate speculation, and eventually return- 
 ed to Mill Grove with his friend. 
 
 Audubon remarks that at this period it took him but 
 a few minutes, walking smartly, to pass from one end of 
 New York to another, so sparse was the population at 
 the date of his residence. He adds, in reference to his 
 absent habits and unsuitabiHty for business, that he at 
 one time posted without sealing it a letter containing 
 8000 dollars. His natural histor}^ pursuits in New York 
 occasioned a disagreeable flavor from his rooms, occa- 
 sioned by drying birds' skins ; and was productive of so 
 much annoyance to his neighbours, that they fonvarded a 
 message to him through a constable, insisting on his abat- 
 ing the nuisance. An excellent pen and ink sketch of 
 his own appearance at this time has been left by Audu- 
 bon. He says : " I measured five feet ten and a half 
 inches, was of a fair mien, and quite a handsome figure ; 
 large, dark, and rather sunken eyes, light-coloured eye- 
 
Portrait of Himself, 29 
 
 brows, aquiline n6se, and a fine set of teeth ; hair, fine 
 texture and luxuriant, divided and passing down behind 
 each ear in luxuriant ringlets as far as the shoulders." 
 There appears excellent reason to believe that Audubon 
 quite appreciated his youthful graces, and, with the ndi- 
 vcte of a simple nature, was not ashamed to record them. 
 
 After returning to Mill Grove, Audubon and his friend 
 Rosier planned an expedition towards the west, at that 
 time a wild region thinly populated by a very strange 
 people. : 
 
 The journey of Audubon and Rosier to Kentucky had 
 for its purpose the discovery of some outlet for the 
 naturalist's energies, in the shape of a settled investment, 
 which would permit of his marriage to Miss Bakewell. 
 In Louisville Audubon determined to remain, and with 
 this purpose in view he sold his plantation of Mill Grove, 
 invested his capital in goods, and prepared to start for 
 the west. His arrangements being complete, he was 
 married to Miss Bakewell on the 8th of April, 1808, in 
 her father's residence at Fatland Ford. Journeying by 
 Pittsburg the wedded pair reached Louisville with their 
 goods in safety. From Pittsburg they sailed down the 
 Ohio in a flat-bottomed float called an ark, and which 
 proved to be an exceedingly tedious and primitive mode 
 of travelling. This river voyage occupied twelve days, 
 and must have given the naturalist wonderful opportuni- 
 ties of making observations. At Louisville he com- 
 menced trade under favorable auspices, but the hunting 
 of birds continued to be the ruling passion. His life at 
 this period, in the company of his young wife, appears to 
 have been extremely happy, and he writes that he had 
 really reason " to care for nothing." The country around 
 Louisville was settled by planters who were fond of hunt- 
 ing, and among whom he found a ready welcome. The 
 shooting and drawing of birds was continued. His 
 
JO Life of Audubon. 
 
 friend Rosier, less fond of rural sports, stuck to the 
 counter, and, as Audubon phrases it, " grew rich, and that 
 was all he cared for." Audubon's pursuits appear to have 
 severed him from the business, which was left to Rosier's 
 management. Finally the war of 1812 imperilled the 
 prosperity of the partners, and what goods remained on 
 hand were shipped to Hendersonville, Kentucky, where 
 Rosier remained for some years longer, before going 
 further westward in search of the fortune he coveted. 
 Writing of the kindness shown him by his friends at 
 Louisville, Audubon relates that when he was absent on 
 business, or " away on expeditions," his wife was invited 
 to stay at General Clark's, and was taken care of till he 
 returned. 
 
 It was at Louisville that Audubon made the acquain- 
 tance of Wilson, the American ornithologist. Wilson, a 
 Scottish weaver, had been driven from Paisley through 
 his sympathies with the political agitators of that notable 
 Scottish town ; and finding a refuge in the United States, 
 had turned his attention to ornithology. From the pages 
 of Audubon's * Ornithological Biography' it may be inter- 
 esting to reproduce an account of the meeting between 
 the two naturalists. " One fair morning," writes Audu- 
 bon, " I was surprised by the sudden entrance into our 
 counting-room at Louisville of Mr. Alexander Wilson, the 
 celebrated author of the ' American Ornitholog}',' of whose 
 existence I had never until that moment been apprised. 
 This happened in March, 18 10. How well do I 
 remember him, as he then walked up to me ! His long, 
 rather hooked nose, the keenness of his eyes, and his 
 prominent cheekbones, stamped his countenance with a 
 peculiar character. His dress, too, was of a kind not 
 usually seen in that part of the country ; a short coat, 
 trousers, and a waistcoat of gray cloth. His stature was 
 not above the middle size. He had two volumes under 
 
Wiboriy the Ornithologist, 31 
 
 his arm, and as he approached the table at which I was 
 working, I thought I discovered something like astonish 
 ment in his countenance. He, however, immediately 
 proceeded to disclose the object of his visit, which was to 
 procure subscriptions for his work. He opened his books, 
 explained the nature of his occupations, and requested 
 my patronage. I felt surprised and gratified at the sight 
 of his volumes, turned over a few of the plates, and had 
 already taken a pen to write my name in his favor, when 
 my partner rather abruptly said to me, in French, * My 
 dear Audubon, what induces you to subscribe to this 
 work ? Your drawings are certainly far better ; and 
 again, you must know as much of the habits of American 
 birds as this gentleman.' Whether Mr. Wilson under- 
 stood French or not, or if the suddenness with which I 
 paused, disappointed him, I cannot tell ; but I clearly 
 perceived that he v/as not pleased. Vanity and the 
 encomiums of my friend prevented me from subscribing. 
 Mr. Wilson asked me if I had many drawings of birds. 
 I rose, took down a large portfolio, laid it on the table, 
 and showed him, — as I would show you, kind reader, or 
 any other person fond of such subjects, — the whole of the 
 contents, with the same patience with which he had 
 shown me his own engravings. His surprise appeared 
 great, as he told me he never had the most distant idea 
 that any other individual than himself had been engaged 
 in forming such a collection. He asked me if it was my 
 intention to publish, and when I answered in the 
 negative, his surprise seemed to increase. And, truly, 
 such was not my intention ; for, until long after, when I 
 met the Prince of Musignano in Philadelphia, I had not 
 the least idea of presenting the fruits of my labors to the 
 world. Mr. Wilson now examined my drawings with 
 care, asked if I should have any objections to lending 
 him a few during his stay, to which I replied that I had 
 
J 2 Life of Audubon, 
 
 none. He then bade me good-morning, not, however, 
 until I had made an arrangement to explore the woods 
 in the vicinity along with him, and had promised to 
 procure for him some birds, of which I had drawings in 
 my collection, but which he had never seen. It happened 
 that he lodged in the same house with us, but his retired 
 habits, I thought, exhibited either a strong feeling of 
 discontent or a decided melancholy. The Scotch airs 
 which he played sweetly on his flute made me melancholy 
 .00, and I felt for him. I presented him to my wife and 
 friends, and seeing that he was all enthusiasm, exerted 
 myself as much as was in my power to procure for him 
 the specimens which he wanted. We hunted together, 
 and obtained birds which he had never before seen ; but, 
 reader, I did not subscribe to his work, for, even at that 
 time, my collection was greater than his. Thinking that 
 perhaps he might be pleased to publish the results of my 
 researches, I offered them to him, merely on condition 
 that what I had drawn, or might afterwards draw and send 
 to him, should be mentioned in his work as cominsf from 
 my pencil. I at the same time offered to open a corres- 
 pondence with him, which I thought might prove beneficial 
 to us both. He made no reply to either proposal, and 
 before many days had elapsed, left Louisville, on his way 
 to New Orleans, little knowing how much his talents were 
 appreciated in our little town, at least by myself and my 
 friends. 
 
 " Some time elapsed, during which I never heard of 
 him, or his work. At length, having occasion to go to 
 Philadelphia, I, immediately after my arrival there, 
 inquired for him, and paid him a visit. He was then 
 drawing a white-headed eagle. He received me with 
 civility, and took me to the exhibition rooms of Rem- 
 brandt Peale, the artist, who 1 - ^ then portrayed Napoleon 
 crossing the Alps. Mr. Wilson spoke not of birds or 
 
Wilson^ the Ornithologist. ^3 
 
 drawings. Feeling, as I was forced to do, that my com- 
 pany was not agreeable, I parted from him ; and after 
 that I never saw him again. But judge of my astonish- 
 ment some time after, when on reading the thirty-ninth 
 page of the ninth volume of * American Ornithology,' I 
 found in it the following paragraph : — 
 
 ^^^ March 23, 18 10. — I bade adieu to Louisville, to 
 which place I had four letters of recommendation, and 
 was taught to expect much of everything there ; but 
 neither received one act of civility from those to whom I 
 was recommended, one subscriber, nor one new bird ; 
 though I delivered my letters, ransacked the woods 
 repeatedly, and visited all the characters likely to 
 subscribe. Science or literature has not one friend in this 
 place.' 
 
 > a 
 
 -_..i---:_i \^ 
 
 2* 
 
CHAPTER IIL 
 
 Return of Mrs. Audubon to her Father'' s House — Audubon and Rosier 
 move to HendersonvUle — Business Unremunerative — Determine 
 to try St. Genevieve on the Mississippi — Wild Swan shooting with 
 Indians — A Bear Hunt, and Valiant Indian — Arrival at St. 
 Genevieve. 
 
 T Louisville it was discovered that business was 
 suffering from over-competition, and no further 
 time was to be lost in transferring the stock to 
 Hendersonville. Before leaving Louisville to take up 
 his residence at Hendersonville, farther down the Ohio 
 river, Audubon took his wife and young son back to her 
 father's house at Fatland Ford, where they resided for a 
 year. 
 
 Audubon and his partner Rosier arranged their 
 migration with the remaining stock, and entered upon 
 their voyage of one hundred and tsventy miles down the 
 Ohio to Hendersonville. Arriving at this place, they 
 found the neighborhood thinly inhabited, and the demand 
 for goods almost limited to the coarsest materials. The 
 merchants were driven to live upon the produce of their 
 guns and fishing-rods. 
 
 The clerk employed for the firm had even to assist 
 in supplying the table, and while he did so Rosier attended 
 to the business. The profits on any business done was 
 enormous, but the sales were so trifling that another 
 change was determined on. It was proposed that the 
 stock in hand should be removed to St. Genevieve, a 
 settlement on the Mississippi river, and until it was 
 ascertained how the enterprise would prosper, Mrs. 
 
Adventurous l!raveL . ^^ 
 
 Audubon should be left at Hendersonville, with the 
 family of Dr. Rankin, who resided in the immediate 
 neighborhood. Of the adventurous voyage to St. Gene- 
 vieve, Audubon gives this graphic account : — 
 
 " Putting our goods, which consisted of three hundred 
 barrels of whiskey, sundry drygoods, and powder, on board 
 a keel-boat, my partner, my clerk, and self departed in a 
 severe snow-storm. The boat was new, staunch, and 
 well trimmed, and had a cabin iii her bow. A long steer- 
 ing oar, made of the trunk of a slender tree, about sixty 
 feet in length, and shaped at its outer extremity like the 
 fin of a dolphin, helped to steer the boat, while the four 
 oars from the bow impelled her along, when going with 
 the current, about five miles an hour. 
 
 " The storm we set out in continued, and soon cov- 
 ered the ground with a wintry sheet. Our first night on 
 board was dismal indeed, but the dawn brought us oppo- 
 site the mouth of the Cumberland River. It was evident 
 that the severe cold had frozen all the neighboring lakes 
 and lagoons, because thousands of wild water-fowl were 
 flying to the river, and settling themselves on its borders. 
 We permitted our boat to drift past, and amused our- 
 selves by firing into flocks of birds. 
 
 " The third day we entered Cash Creek, a very small 
 stream, but having deep water and a good harbour. Here 
 I met Count De Munn, who was also in a boat like ours, 
 and bound also for St. Genevibve. Here we learned 
 that the Mississippi was covered with floating ice of a 
 thickness dangerous to the safety of our craft, and indeed 
 that it was impossible to ascend the river against it. 
 
 " The creek was full of water, was crowded with wild 
 birds, and was plentifully supplied with fish. The large 
 sycamores, and the bare branches of the trees that 
 fringed the creek, were favorite resorts of paroquets, 
 which came at night to roost in their hollow trunks. All 
 
o6 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 agreeable circumstance was an encampment of about fifty 
 families of Shawnee Indians, attracted to the spot by the 
 mast of the forest, which brought together herds of deer, 
 and many bears and racoons. 
 
 " Mr. Rosier, whose only desire was to reach the des- 
 tination and resume trade, was seized with melancholy at 
 the prospect occasioned by the delay. He brooded in 
 silence over a mishap which had given me great occasion 
 for rejoicing." 
 
 A narrative of Audubon's stay at Cash Creek, and 
 perilous journey up the Mississippi, is picturesquely 
 given in his journal, and from which the following is 
 extracted : — 
 
 " The second morning after our arrival at Cash Creek, 
 while I was straining my eyes to discover whether it was 
 fairly day dawn or no, I heard a movement in the Indian 
 camp, and discovered that a canoe, with half a dozen 
 squaws and as many hunters, was about leaving for Ten- 
 nessee. I had heard that there was a large lake oppo- 
 site to us, where immense flocks of swans resorted every 
 morning, and asking permission to join them, I seated 
 myself on my haunches in the canoe, well provided with 
 ammunition and a bottle of whiskey, and in a few minutes 
 the paddles were at work, swiftly propelling us to the 
 opposite shore. I was not much surprised to see the 
 boat paddled by the squaws, but I was quite so to see 
 the hunters stretch themselves out and go to sleep. On 
 landing, the squaws took charge of the canoe, secured it, 
 and went in search of nuts, while we gentlemen hunters 
 made the best of our way through thick and thin to the lake. 
 Its muddy shores were overgrown with a close growth of 
 cotton trees, too large to be pushed aside, and too thick 
 to pass through except by squeezing yourself at every 
 few steps; and to add to the difficulty, every few rods we 
 came to small nasty lagoons, which one must jump, leap, 
 
Wild Swan Shooting. 37 
 
 or swim, and this not without peril of broken limbs o* 
 drowning. , , 
 
 " But when the lake burst on our view there were the 
 swans by hundreds, and white as rich cream, either dip- 
 ping their black bills in the water, or stretching out one 
 leg on its surface, or gently floating along. According 
 to the Indian mode of hunting, we had divided, and 
 approached the lagoon from different sides. The mo- 
 ment our vedette was seen, it seemed as if thousands of 
 large, fat, and heavy swans were startled, and as they 
 made away from him they drew towards the ambush of 
 death; for the trees had hunters behind them, whose 
 touch of the trigger would carry destruction among 
 them. As the first party fired, the game rose and flew 
 within easy distance of the party on the opposite side, 
 when they again fired, and I saw the water covered with 
 birds floating with their backs downwards, and their 
 heads sunk in the water, and their legs kicking in the 
 air. When the sport was over we counted more than 
 fifty of these beautiful birds, whose skins were intended 
 for the ladies in Europe. There were plenty of geese 
 and ducks, but no one condescended to give them a shot. 
 A conch was sounded, and after a while the squaws came 
 dragging the canoe, and collecting the dead game, which 
 was taken to the river's edge, fastened to the canoe, and 
 before dusk we were again landed at our camping ground. 
 I had heard of sportsmen in England who walked a whole 
 day, and after firing a pound of powder returned in great- 
 glee, bringing one partridge ; and I could not help won- 
 dering what they would think of the spoil we were bear- 
 ing firom Swan Lake. ; i ;, 
 
 " The fires were soon lighted, and a soup of pecan 
 nuts and bear fat made and eaten. The hunters stretched 
 themselves with their feet close to the camp-fires, intended 
 to burn all night. The squaws then began to skin the 
 
o 8 Life of Audubon. 
 
 birds, and I retired, very well satisfied with my Christmas 
 
 sport 
 
 " AVhen I awoke in the morning and made my rounds 
 through the camp, I found a squaw had been delivered 
 of beautiful twins during the night, and I saw the same 
 squaw at work tanning deer-skins. She had cut two vines 
 at the roots of opposite trees, and made a cradle of bark, 
 in which the new-bom ones were wafted to and fro with 
 a push of her hand, while from time to time she gave 
 them the breast, and was apparently as unconcerned as 
 if the event had not taken place. 
 
 " An Indian camp on a hunting expedition is by no 
 means a place of idleness, and although the men do little 
 more than hunt, they perform their task with an industry 
 which borders on enthusiasm. I was invited by three 
 hunters to a bear hunt. A tall, robust, well- shaped fel- 
 low assured me that we should have some sport that 
 day, for he had discovered the haunt of one of large 
 size, and he wanted to meet him face to face ; and we 
 four started to see how he would fulfill his boast. About 
 half a mile from the camp he said he perceived his tracks, 
 though I could see nothing ; and we rambled on through 
 the cane brake until we came to an immense decayed 
 log, in which he swore the bear was. I saw his eye 
 sparkle with joy, his rusty blanket was thrown off his 
 shoulders, his brawny arms swelled with blood, as he 
 drew his scalping-knife from his belt with a flourish 
 which showed that fighting was his delight. He told me 
 to mount a small saplmg, because a bear cannot climb 
 one, while it can go up a large tree with the nimbleness 
 of a squirrel. The two other Indians seated themselves 
 at the entrance, and the hero went in boldly. All was 
 silent for a few moments, when he came out and said the 
 bear was dead, and I might come down. The Indians 
 cut 1 long vine, went into the hollow tree, fastened it to 
 
A Bear-Hunt. 
 
 2^ 
 
 the animal, and with their united force dragged it out. 
 I really thought that this was an exploit. Since then I 
 have seen many Indian exploits, which proved to me 
 their heroism. 
 
 " In Europe or America the white hunter would have 
 taken his game home and talked about it for w^eks, but 
 these simple people only took off the animal's skin, hung 
 the flesh in quarters on the trees, and continued their 
 hunt. Unable to follow them, I returned to the camp, 
 accompanied by one Indian, who broke the twigs of the 
 bushes we passed, and sent back t^vo squaws on the 
 track, who brought the flesh and skin of the bear to the 
 camp. 
 
 "At length the nuts were nearly all gathered, and 
 the game grew scarce, and the hunters remained most 
 of the day in camp j and they soon made up their packs, 
 broke up their abodes, put all on board their canoes, and 
 paddled off down the Mississippi for the little prairie on 
 the Arkansas. 
 
 "Their example made a stir among the whites, and 
 my impatient partner begged me to cross the bend and 
 see if the ice was yet too solid for us to ascend the river. 
 Accordingly, accompanied by two of the crew, I made 
 my way to the Mississippi. The weather was milder, 
 and the ice so sunk as to be scarcely perceptible, and I 
 pushed up the shore to a point opposite Cape Girardeau. 
 We hailed the people on the opposite bank, and a robust 
 yellow man came across, named Loume. He stated that 
 he was a son of the Spanish governor of Louisiana, and 
 a good pilot on the river, and would take our boat up 
 provided we had four good hands, as he had six. A 
 bargain was soon struck; their canoe hauled into the 
 woods, some blazes struck on the trees, and all started 
 for Cash Creek. 
 
 " The night was spent in making tugs of hides and 
 
40 Life of Audubon. 
 
 shaving oars, and at daylight we left the Creek, glad to 
 be afloat once more in broader water. Going down the 
 stream to the mouth of the Ohio was fine sport ; indeed, 
 my partner considered the worst of the journey over ^ 
 but, alas ! when we turned the point, and met the mighty 
 rush of the Mississippi, running three miles an hour, and 
 bringing shoals of ice to further impede our progress, he 
 looked on despairingly. The patron ordered the lines 
 ashore, and it became the duty of ever}' man ' to haul the 
 Cordelia,' which was a rope fastened to the bow of the 
 boat ; and one man being left on board to steer, the oth- 
 ers, laying the rope over their shoulders, slowly warped 
 the heavy boat and cargo against the current. We made 
 seven miles that day up the famous river. But while I 
 was tugging wdth my back at the cordella, I kept my eyes 
 fixed on the forests or the ground, looking for birds and 
 curious shells. At night we camped on the shores. Here 
 we made fires, cooked supper, and setting one sentinel, 
 the rest went to bed and slept like men who had done 
 one good day's work. I slept myself as unconcerned as 
 if I had been in my own father's house. 
 
 "The next day I was up early, and roused my part- 
 ner two hours before sunrise, and we began to move the 
 boat at about one mile an hour against the current. AVe 
 had a sail on board, but the wind was ahead, and we 
 made ten miles that day. We made our fires, and I lay 
 down to sleep again in my buffalo robes. Two more days 
 of similar toil followed, when the weather became severe, 
 and our patron ordered us to go into winter quarters, in 
 the great bend of the Tawapatee Bottom. 
 
 " The sorrows of my partner at this dismal event were 
 too great to be described. Wrapped in his blanket, like 
 asquirrelin winter quarters with his tail about his nose, 
 he slept and dreamed away his time, being seldom seen 
 except at meals. 
 
Osage Indians, 41 
 
 " There was not a white man's cabin within twenty 
 miles, and that over a river we could not cross. We cut 
 down trees and made a winter camp. But a new field 
 was opened to me, and I rambled through the deep for- 
 ests, and soon became acquainted with the Indian trails 
 and the lakes in the neighborhood. 
 
 " The Indians have the instinct or sagacity to discover 
 an encampment of white men almost as quickly as vul- 
 tures sight the carcass of a dead animal ; and I was not 
 long in meeting strolling natives in the w^oods. They 
 gradually accumulated, and before a week had passed 
 great numbers of tliese unfortunate beings were around 
 us, chiefly Osages and Shawnees. The former were well- 
 formed, athletic, and robust men, of a noble aspect, and 
 kept aloof from the others. They hunted nothing but 
 large game, and the few elks and buffaloes that remained 
 in the countr}^ The latter had been more in contact with 
 the whites, were much inferior, and killed opossum and 
 wild turkeys for a subsistence. The Osages being a new 
 race to me, I went often to their camp, to study their 
 character and habits ; but found much difficulty in be- 
 coming acquainted with them. They spoke no French, 
 and only a few words of English, and their general de- 
 meanor proved them to be a nobler race. They were 
 delighted to see me draw, and when I made a tolerable 
 likeness of one of them with red chalk, they cried out 
 with astonishment, and laughed excessively. They stood 
 the cold much better than the Shawnees, and were much 
 more expert with bows and arrows. 
 
 " The bones we threw around our camp attracted ma- 
 ny wolves, and afforded us much sport in hunting them. 
 Here I passed six weeks pleasantly, investigating the 
 habits of wild deer, bears, cougars, racoons, and turkeys, 
 and many other animals, and I drew more or less by the 
 side of our great camp-fire eve.y day ; and no one can 
 
^2. Life of Audubon. 
 
 have an idea of what a good fire is who has never seen a 
 camp-fire in the woods of America. Imagine four or five 
 ash-trees, three feet in diameter and sixty feet long, cut 
 and piled up, with all their limbs and branches, ten feet 
 high, and then a fire kindled on the top with brush and 
 dry leaves ; and then under the smoke the party lies 
 down and goes to sleep. 
 
 " Here our bread gave out ; and after using the breast 
 of wild turkeys for bread, and bear's grease for butter, 
 and eating opossum and bear's meat until our stomachs 
 revolted, it was decided that a Kentuckian named Pope, 
 our clerk, and a good woodsman, should go with me to 
 the nearest settlement and try and bring some Indian 
 meal. On the way we saw a herd of deer, and turned 
 aside to shoot one ; and having done so, and marked the 
 place, we continued our journey. We walked until dusk, 
 and no river appeared. Just then I noticed an Indian 
 trail, which we supposed led to the river ; and after fol- 
 lowing it a short distance, entered the camp we had left 
 in the morning. My partner, finding that we had no 
 wheaten loaves in our hands, and no bags of meal on our 
 backs, said we were boobies ; the boatmen laughed, the 
 Indians joined the chorus, and we ate some cold racoon, 
 and stumbled into our buffalo robes, and were soon enjoy- 
 ing our sleep. 
 
 " The next day we tried it again, going directly across 
 the bend, suffering neither the flocks of turkeys nor the 
 droves of deer we saw to turn us aside until we had Cape 
 Girardeau in full sight an hour before the setting of the 
 sun. The ice was running swiftly in the river, and we 
 hailed in vain, for no small boat dare put out. An old 
 abandoned log-house stood on cur bank, and we took 
 lodgings there for the night ; we made a little fire, ate a 
 little dried bear's meat we had brought, and slept comfort- 
 ably. 
 
Winter Experiences. 43 
 
 "What a different life from the one I am leading now 3 
 and that night I wrote in my journal exactly as I do now \ 
 and I recollect well that I gathered more information that 
 evening respecting the roasting of prairie-hens than I had 
 ever done before or since. Daylight returned fair and 
 frosty, the trees covered with snow and icicles, shining 
 like jewels as the sun rose on them ; and the wild turkeys 
 seemed so dazzled by their brilliancy, that they allowed 
 us to pass under them without flying. - - 
 
 " After a time we saw a canoe picking its way through 
 the running ice. Through the messenger who came in 
 the boat, we obtained after waiting nearly all day, a barrel 
 of flour, several bags of Indian meal, and a few loaves of 
 bread. Having rolled the flour to a safe place, slung the 
 meal in a tree, and thrust our gun barrels through the 
 loaves of bread, we started for our camp, and reached it 
 not long after midnight. Four men were sent the next 
 morning with axes to make a sledge, and drag the provi- 
 sions over the snow to the camp. 
 
 " The river, which had been constantly slowly rising, 
 now began to fall, and prepared new troubles for us ; for 
 as the water fell the ice clung to the shore, and we were 
 forced to keep the boat afloat to unload the cargo. This, 
 with the help of all the Indian men and women, took two 
 days. We then cut large trees, and fastened them to the 
 shore above the boat, so as to secure it from the ice which 
 was accumulating, and to save the boat from being cut by it. 
 We were now indeed in winter quarters, and we made the 
 best of it. The Indians made baskets of cane, Mr. Pope 
 played on the violin, I accompanied with the flute, the 
 men danced to the tunes, and the squaws looked on and 
 laughed, and the hunters smoked their pipes with such 
 serenity as only Indians can, and I never regretted one 
 day spent there. 
 
 "While our time went pleasantly enough, a sudden 
 
44 Life of Audubon. 
 
 and startling catastrophe threatened us without warning. 
 The ice began to break, and our boat was in instant dan 
 ger of being cut to pieces by the ice-floes, or swamped 
 by their pressure. Roused from our sleep, we rushed 
 down pell-mell to the bank, as if attacked by savages, 
 and discovered the ice was breaking up rapidly. It split 
 with reports like those of heavy artillery; and as the 
 water had suddenly risen from an overflow of the Ohio, 
 the two streams seemed to rush against each other with 
 violence, in consequence of which the congealed mass was 
 broken into large fragments, some of which rose nearly 
 erect here and there, and again fell with thundering 
 crash, as the wounded whale, when in the agonies of 
 death, springs up with furious force, and again plunges 
 into the foaming waters. To our surprise, the weather, 
 which in the evening had been calm and frosty, had 
 become wet and blow}\ The water gushed from the 
 fissures formed in the ice, and the prospect was ex- 
 tremely dismal. AVhen day dawned, a spectacle strange 
 and fearful presented itself: the whole mass of water was 
 violently agitated; its covering was broken into small 
 fragments, and although not a foot of space was without 
 ice, not a step could the most daring have ventured to 
 make upon it Our boat was in imminent danger, for the 
 trees which had been placed to guard it from the ice were 
 cut or broken into pieces, and were thrust against her. 
 It was impossible to move her; but our pilot ordered 
 every man to bring down great bunches of cane, which 
 were lashed along her sides; and before these were 
 destroyed by the ice, she was afloat, and riding above it. 
 "While we were gazing on the scene, a tremendous crash 
 was heard, which seemed to have taken place about a 
 mile below, when suddenly the great dam of ice gave 
 way. The current of the Mississippi had forced its way 
 against that of the Ohio ; and in less than four hours we 
 witnessed the complete breaking up of the ice. 
 
St. Genevieve. 45 
 
 " During that winter the ice was so thick, the patron 
 said we might venture to start. The cargo was soon on 
 board, and the camp given up to the Indians, after bid- 
 ding mutual adieus, as when brothers part. The naviga- 
 tion was now of the most dangerous kind ; the boat was 
 pushed by long poles c:i the ice, and against the bottom 
 when it could be touched, and we moved extremely 
 slowly. The ice was higher than our heads, and I fre- 
 quently thought that if a sudden thaw should take place 
 we should be in great peril ; but fortunately all this was 
 escaped, and we reached safely the famous cape. 
 
 " But the village was small, and no market for us, and 
 we determined to push up to St. Genevibve, and once 
 more were in motion between the ice. We arrived in a 
 few days at the grand tower, where an immense rock in 
 the stream makes the navigation dangerous. Here we 
 used our Cordelias, and with great difficulty and peril 
 passed it safely. It was near this famous tower of granite 
 that I first saw the great eagle that I have named after 
 our good and great General Washington. The weather 
 continued favorable, and we arrived in safety at St. Gene- 
 vieve, and found a favorable market. Our whiskey was 
 especially welcome, and what we had paid twenty-five 
 cents a gallon for, brought us two dollars. St. Gene- 
 vieve was then an old French town, twenty miles below 
 St. Louis, not so large, as dirty, and I was not half so 
 pleased with the time spent there as with that spent in 
 the Tawapatee Bottom. Here I met with the Frenchman 
 who accompanied Lewis and Clark to the Rocky Moun- 
 tains. They had just returned, and I was delighted to 
 learn from them many particulars of their interesting 
 journey." * -:- r r , - ^ . - 
 
CHAPTER IK 
 
 Audubon finds Genakve unsuitable — Return Journey to Henderson- 
 
 •uille Terrible Adventure on the Prairie — Narrow Escape from 
 
 Assassination — The Shooting of Mason — Earthquakes in Ken- 
 tucky A Frantic Doctor — Audubon Suffers from new Misfor- 
 tunes — Seventeen Thousand Dollars lost — Starts in Business at 
 Hendersonville^ and Succeeds — Erection of a Mill and Renezved 
 Misfortunes — Commences to draw Portraits — Engagement at 
 Cincinnati Museum, 
 
 UDUBON soon discovered that Genevibve was 
 no pleasant place to live in. Its population 
 were mostly low-bred French Canadians, for 
 whose company, notwithstanding certain national sym- 
 pathies, he had no liking. He wearied to be back at 
 Hendersonville beside his young wife. Rosier got mar- 
 ried at Genevieve, and to him Audubon sold his interest 
 in the business. The naturalist purchased a horse, bade 
 adieu to his partner, to the society of Genevibve, and 
 started homeward across the country. During this jour- 
 ney Audubon met with a terrible adventure, and made a 
 miraculous escape from impending death. This episode 
 in Audubon's life is related by him in the following 
 words : — 
 
 " On my return from the upper Mississippi, I found 
 myself obliged to cross one of the wild prairies, which, 
 in that portion of the United States, vary the appearance 
 of the country. The weather was fine, all around me 
 was as fresh and blooming as if it had just issued from 
 the bosom of nature. My knapsack, my gun, and my 
 dog were all I had for baggage and company. But, 
 
Adventure en the Prairie, 47 
 
 • 
 
 although well moccasined, I moved slowly along, attracted 
 by the brilliancy of the flowers, and the gambols of the 
 fawns around their dams, to all appearance as thoughtless 
 of danger as I felt myself. 
 
 " My march was of long duration. I saw the sun 
 sinking beneath the horizon long before I could perceive 
 any appearance of woodlands, and nothing in the shape of 
 man had I met with that day. The track which I fol- 
 lowed was only an old Indian trail, and as darkness 
 overshadowed the prairie, I felt some desire to reach at 
 least a copse, in which I might lie down to rest. The 
 night-hawks were skimming over and around me, 
 attracted by the buzzing wings of the beetles which 
 form their food, and the distant howling of the wolves 
 gave me some hope that I should soon arrive at the skirts 
 of some woodland. 
 
 " I did 50, and almost at the same instant a fire-light 
 attracting my eye, I moved towards it, full of confidence 
 that it proceeded from the camp of some wandering 
 Indians. I was mistaken. I discovered by its glare that 
 it was firom the hearth of a small log cabin, and that a 
 tall figure passed and repassed between it and me, as if 
 busily engaged in household arrangements. 
 
 " I reached the spot, and presenting myself at the 
 door, asked the tall figure, which proved to be a woman, 
 if I might take shelter under her roof for the night ? Her 
 voice was grufi", and her dress negligently thrown about 
 her. She answered in the affirmative. I walked in, took 
 a wooden stool, and quietly seated myself by the fire. 
 The next object that attracted my notice was a finely 
 formed young Indian, resting his head between his hands, 
 with his elbows on his knees. A long bow rested against 
 the log wall near him, while a quantity of arrows and two 
 or three racoon skins lay at his feet. He moved not ; 
 he apparently breathed not. Accustomed to the habits 
 
48 Life of Audubon. 
 
 of the Indians, and knowing that they pay little attention 
 to the approach of civilized strangers, I addressed him in 
 French, a language not unfrequently partially known to 
 the people of that neighbourhood. He raised his head, 
 pointed to one of his eyes with his finger, and gave me a 
 significant glance with the other ; his face was covered 
 with blood. 
 
 " The fact was, that an hour before this, as he was in 
 the act of discharging an arrow at a racoon in the top of 
 a tree, the arrow had split upon the cord, and sprung back 
 with such violence into his right eye as to destroy it for 
 ever. 
 
 " Feeling hungry, I inquired what sort of fare I might 
 expect Such a thing as a bed was not to be seen, but 
 many large untanned buffalo hides lay piled in a corner. 
 I drew a time-piece from my pocket, and told the woman 
 that it was late, and that I was fatigued. She espied my 
 watch, the richness of which seemed to operate on her 
 feelings with electric quickness. She told me there was 
 plenty of venison and jerked buffalo meat, and that on 
 removing the ashes I should find a cake. But my watch 
 had struck her fancy, and her curiosity had to be grati- 
 fied by an immediate sight of it. I took off the gold 
 chain which secured it around my neck, and presented it 
 to her. She was all ecstasy, spoke of its beauty, asked 
 me its value, and put the chain round her brawny neck, 
 saying how happy the possession of such a watch would 
 make her. Thoughtless, and, as I fancied myself, in so 
 retired a spot, secure, I paid little attention to her talk or 
 her movements. I helped my dog to a good supper of 
 vtnison, and was not long in satisfying the demands of 
 my own appetite. 
 
 "The Indian rose from his seat as if in extreme 
 suffering. He passed and repassed me several times, and 
 once pinched me on the side so violently, that the pain 
 
Adventure on the Prairie, 43 
 
 nearly brought forth an exclamation of anger. I looked 
 at him, his eye met mine, but his look was so forbidding, 
 that it struck a chill into the more nervous part of my 
 system. He again seated himself, drew his butcher-knife 
 from its greasy scabbard, examined its edge, as I would 
 do that of a razor suspected dull, replaced it, and again 
 taking his tomahawk from his back, filled the pipe of it 
 with tobacco, and sent me expressive glances whenever 
 our hostess chanced to have her back towards us. 
 
 "Never until that moment had my senses been 
 awakened to the danger which I now suspected to be 
 about me. I returned glance for glance to my companion, 
 and rested well assured that, whatever enemies I might 
 have, he was not of their number. 
 
 " I asked the woman for my watch, wound it up, and 
 under the pretence of wishing to see how the weather 
 might probably be on the morrow, took up my gun, and 
 walked out of the cabin. I slipped a ball into each 
 barrel, scraped the edges of my flints, renewed the 
 primings, and returning to the hut, gave a favorable 
 account of my observations. I took a fe*./ bear-skins, 
 made a pallet of them, and calling my faithful dog to my 
 side, lay down, with my gun close to my body, and in a 
 few minutes was to all appearance fast asleep. 
 
 " A short time had elapsed when some voices were 
 heard, and from the corner of my eyes I saw two athletic 
 youths making their entrance, bearing a dead stag on a 
 pole. They disposed of their burden, and asking for 
 whiskey, helped themselves freely to it. Observing me 
 and the wounded Indian, they asked who I was, and why 
 the devil that rascal (meaning the Indian, who, they knew, 
 understood not a word of English) was in the house ? 
 The mother, for so she proved to be, bade them speak less 
 loudly, made mention of my watch, and took them to a 
 comer, where a conversation took place, the purport of 
 3 
 
^o Life of AudubofK 
 
 which it required little shrewdness in me to guess. I 
 tapped my dog gently, he moved his tail, and with 
 indescribable pleasure I saw his fine eyes alternately 
 fixed on me and raised towards the trio in the corner. 
 I felt that he perceived danger in my situation. The 
 Indian exchanged the last glance with me. 
 
 " The lads had eaten and drunk themselves into such 
 condition that I already looked upon them as hor^ de com- 
 bat ; and the firequent visits of the whiskey bottle to the 
 ugly mouth of their dam, I hoped would soon reduce her 
 to a like state. Judge of my astonishment when I saw 
 that incarnate fiend take a large carving-knife, and go to 
 the grindstone to whet its edge. I saw her pour the water 
 on the turning machine, and watched her working away 
 with the dangerous instrument, until the cold sweat 
 covered every part of my body, in despite of my determin- 
 ation to defend myself to the last. Her task finished, 
 she walked to her reeling sohs, and said, * There, that'll 
 
 soon settle him ! Boys, kill yon , and then for the 
 
 watch 1 ' 
 
 " I turned, cocked my gun-locks silently, touched my 
 faithful companion, and lay ready to start up and shoot 
 the first who might attempt my life. The moment was 
 fast approaching, and that night might have been my last 
 in this world, had not Providence made provision for my 
 rescue. All was ready. The infernal hag was advancing 
 slowly, probably contemplating the best way of despatch- 
 ing me whilst her sons should be engaged with the Indian. 
 I was several times on the eve of rising, and shooting her 
 on the spot, but she was not to be punished thus. The 
 door was suddenly opened, and there entered two stout 
 travellers, each with a long rifie on his shoulder. I 
 bounced up on my feet, and making them most heartily 
 welcome, told them how well it was for me that they 
 should have arrived at that moment. The tale was told 
 
Regulator Law. 51 
 
 in a minute. The drunken sons were secured, and the 
 woman, in spite of her defence and vociferations, shared 
 the same fate. The Indian fairly danced with joy, and 
 gave us to understand that, as he could not sleep for 
 pain, he would watch over us. You may suppose we 
 slept much less than we talked. The two strangers gave 
 me an account of their once having been themselves in a 
 similar* situation. Day came fair and rosy, and with it the 
 punishment of our captives. 
 
 " They were quite sobered. Their feet were unbound, 
 but their arms were still securely tied. We marched 
 them into the woods off the road, and having used them 
 as Regulators were wont to use such delinquents, we set 
 fire to the cabin, gave all the skins and implements to the 
 young Indian warrior, and proceeded, well pleased, 
 towards the settlements." 
 
 At the period at which this incident occurred 
 " Regulator iaw " was the high tribunal in the Western * 
 States. A savage and outcast population fringed the 
 settled territories, and among these the most dastardly 
 crimes were current. "Regulator Law" was admin- 
 istered by a body of American citizens, and was akin to 
 a Vigilance Committee in its self-assumed functions. 
 The punishment of felons, who could defy or were likely 
 to escape the law of the land, was the special duty of the 
 Regulators, and the name acquired a terrible significance 
 in the western wilds. Audubon relates that a notorious 
 freebooter, named Mason, frequented Wolf's Island in the 
 Mississippi, and with a gang of marauders played pirate 
 with impunity in that river. He stripped the laden 
 barges of all the valuables, stole horses, and proved him- 
 self to be beyond the reach of the law. A party of Reg- 
 ulators descended the river, but failed to find him. 
 Finally, he was shot through the ready wit of one man. 
 This Regulator met the ruffian in the forest, and, 
 
r2 Life of Audubon. 
 
 unsuspected, turned after him and dogged his steps. 
 Mason retked to a quiet dell, hobbled his horse to pre- 
 \rent it escaping, and crept into a hollow tree. The 
 Regulator went off for assistance to the nearest place, 
 and returning with armed men, the plunderer was shot 
 down, and his severed head was stuck on a pole hard by, 
 to deter others from following the same life. ITie punish- 
 ment adjudged by these Regulators was mercifully 
 apportioned to the crimes of the evil-doers ; but Audubon 
 relates a rather severe sentence passed upon one who was 
 neither thief nor murderer. 
 
 " The culprit," says Audubon, " was taken to a place 
 where nettles were known to grow in great abundance, 
 completely stripped, and so lashed with them, that 
 although not materially hurt, he took it as a hint not to 
 be neglected, left ths country, and was nev^ again heard 
 of by any of the party concerned." - : : 
 
 In November, 1812, soon after his father's return to 
 Hendersonville, Audubon's second son, John Woodhouse, 
 was bom. John AVoodhouse and his only brother, Victor, 
 were destined to become companions of their father in 
 his hunting expeditions, and were afterwards able to 
 assist materially in collecting and drawing birds for the 
 great work. 
 
 A few weeks after Audubon's return to Hen- 
 dersonville, the western section of the state of Ken- 
 tucky and the banks of the Mississippi suffered from a 
 very severe shock of earthquake. In the month of 
 November, the Naturalist was riding along on horseback, 
 when he heard what he imagined to be the distant 
 rumbling of a violent tornado. " On which," says he, " I 
 spurred my steed, with a wish to gallop as fast as possible 
 to the place of shelter. But it would not do ; the animal 
 knew better than I what was forthcoming, and instead of 
 going faster, so nearly stopped, that I remarked he placed 
 
An Earthquake. . 53 
 
 one foot after another on the ground with as much pre- 
 caution as if walking on a smooth sheet of ice. I thought 
 he had suddenly foundered, and, speaking to him, was on 
 the point of dismounting and leading him, when he all of 
 a sudden fell a groaning piteousiy, hung his head, spread 
 out his four legs, as if to save himself from falling, and 
 stood stock still, continuing to groan. I thought my 
 horse was about to die, and would have sprung from his 
 back had a minute more elapsed j but at that instant all 
 the shrubs and trees began to move from their very roots, 
 the ground rose and fell in successive furrows, like the 
 ruffled waters of a lake, and I became bewildered in my 
 ideas, as I too plainly discovered that all this awful 
 commotion in nature was the result of an earthquake. 
 
 " I had never witnessed anything of the kind before, 
 although like every other person, I .knew of earthquakes* 
 by description. But what is description compared with 
 reaUty ? "VVho can tell of the sensations which I experi- 
 enced when I found myself rocking, as it were, upon my 
 horse, and with him moved to and fro like a child in a 
 cradle, with the most imminent danger around me ? The 
 fearful convulsion, however, lasted only a few minutes, 
 and the heavens again brightened as quickly as they had 
 become obscured; my horse brought his feet to tlie 
 natural position, raised his head, and galloped off as if 
 loose and frolicking without a rider. 
 
 "I was not, however, without great apprehension 
 respecting my family, from which I was many miles 
 distant, fearful that where they were the shock might have 
 caused greater havoc than that I had witnessed. I gave 
 the bridle to my steed, and was glad to see him appear as 
 anxious to get home as myself The pace at which he 
 galloped accomplished this sooner than I had expected, 
 and I found, with much pleasure, that hardly any greater 
 harm had taken place than the apprehension excited for 
 
r^ Life of Audubon. 
 
 my own safety. Shock succeeded shock almost every 
 day or night for several weeks, diminishing however, so 
 gradually, as to dwindle away into mere vibrations of the 
 earth. Strange to say, I for one became so accustomed 
 to the feeling, as rather to enjoy the fears manifested by 
 others. I never can forget the effects of one of the 
 slighter shocks which took place when I was at a friend's 
 house, where I had gone to enjoy the merriment that in 
 our western country attends a wedding. The ceremony 
 being performed, supper over, and the fiddles tuned, 
 dancing became the order of the moment. This was 
 merrily followed up to a late hour, when the party retired 
 to rest. We were in what is called, with great propriety, 
 a log-house ; one of large dimensions, and solidly con- 
 structed. The owner was a physician, and in one corner 
 were not only his lancets, tourniquets, amputating knives, 
 and other sanguinary apparatus, but all the drugs which 
 he employed for therelief of his patients, arranged in jars 
 and phials of different sizes. These had some days 
 before made a narrow escape from destruction, but had 
 been fortunately preserved by closing the doors of the 
 cases in which they were contained. 
 
 "As I have said, we had all retired to rest. Morning 
 was fast approaching, when the rumbling noise that pre- 
 cedes the earthquake began so loudly as to awaken the 
 whole party and drive them out of bed in the greatest 
 consternation. The scene which ensued was humorous 
 in the extreme. Fear knows no restraint. Every per- 
 son, old and young, filled with alarm at the creaking 
 of the log-house, and apprehending instant destruction, 
 rushed wildly out to the grass enclosure fronting the 
 bunding. The full moon was slowly descending from 
 her throne, covered at times by clouds that rolled heavily 
 along, as if to conceal from her view the scenes of terror 
 which prevailed on earth below. 
 
Business Misadventure. 55 
 
 " On the grass-plot we all met, in such condition as 
 rendered it next to impossible to discriminate any of tlie 
 party, all huddled together in a state of almost perfect 
 nudity. The earth waved like a field of corn before the 
 breeze ; the birds left their perches, and flew about not 
 knowing whither j and the doctor, recollecting the dan- 
 ger of his gallipots, ran to his office, to prevent their 
 dancing off the shelves to the floor. Never for a moment 
 did he think of closing the doors, but, spreading his arms, 
 jumped about the front of the cases, pushing back here 
 and there the falling jars, but with so little success, that 
 before the shock was over he had lost nearly all he pos- 
 sessed. , .. , - 
 
 "The shock at length ceased, and the frightened 
 females, now sensible of their dishabille, fled to their 
 several apartments. The earthquakes produced more 
 serious consequences in other places. Near New Madrid, 
 and for some distance on the Mississippi, the earth was 
 rent asunder in several places, one or two islands sunk 
 forever, and the inhabitants who escaped fled in dismay 
 towards the eastern shores." 
 
 While resident at Hendersonville, Audubon entered 
 upon a new adventure with his brother-in-law to carry on 
 business at New Orleans, under the firm of " Audubon & 
 Co." In this speculation he embarked all the fortune at 
 his disposal ; but instead of attending to his interests he 
 remained hunting in Kentucky, and soon afterwards was 
 informed that all his money had been swept away in busi- 
 ness misadventures. 
 
 At this juncture the father of Audubon died ; but 
 from some unfortunate cause he did not receive legal 
 notice for more than a year. On becoming acquainted 
 with the fact he travelled to Philadelphia to obtain funds, 
 but was unsuccessful. His father had left him his prop- 
 erty in France of La Gibitbre, and seventeen thousand 
 
rg Life of Audubon. 
 
 dollars which had been defXJSited with a merchant in 
 Richmond, Virginia. Audubon, however, took no steps 
 to obtain possession of his estate in France, and in after 
 years, when his sons had grown up, sent one of them to 
 France, for the purpose of legally transferring the prop- 
 erty to his own sister Rosa. The merchant who held 
 possession of the seventeen thousand dollars would not 
 deliver them up imtil Audubon proved himself to be the 
 son of Commodore Audubon. Before this could be done 
 the merchant died insolvent, and the legatee never recov- 
 ered a dollar of his money. Returning from Philadelphia 
 to Hendersonville, the unfortunate Audubon cheerfully 
 endeavored to provide for the future, about which he felt 
 considerable anxiety. Gathering a few hundred dollars, 
 he purchased some goods in Louisville, and returned to 
 business in Hendersonville. In his journey he met with 
 General Toledo, who was raising volunteers to go to 
 South America, and who offered him a colonel's commis- 
 sion in the adventure. Audubon, however, preferred 
 remaining at home. The business prospered; he pur- 
 chased land and a log cabin, with a family of negroes 
 thereto, and seemed to be comfortably settled. 
 
 The prosperous career of Audubon was prematurely 
 closed by the arrival of a former partner, who joined him, 
 and whose presence seemed to herald disaster. This 
 partner advised him to erect a steam mill at Henderson- 
 ville, a place which was totally unfitted for any such specu- 
 lation. An Englishman, named Thomas Pease, joined 
 in partnership, and having lost his money in an absurd 
 project, separated from Audubon on no pleasant terms. 
 In order to carry on the mill with renewed vigor, other 
 partners were added \ and in connection with it Mr. 
 Apperson was established at Shawnee Town, Mr. Ben- 
 jamin Harrison at Vincennes in Indiana, and Nathaniel 
 Pope, an old clerk of Audubon's, on the Mississippi 
 
Removal to Louisville. 57 
 
 river. All c/ these parties failed in supporting the 
 concern at Hendersonville, which was only continued 
 through the desperate measure of taking in still more 
 partners. Finally, the mill went down, after ruining all 
 concerned. The naturalist speaks with bitterness of the 
 "infernal mill," and in an equally fierce strain of a 
 steamer purchased by the concern, and afterwards sold 
 to a party down the Mississippi, who cheated the sellers 
 out of most of the purchase money. From this date his 
 difficulties appeared to increase daily ; bills fell due, and 
 unmeasured vexations assailed him. He handed over 
 all he possessed, and left Hendersonville with his sick 
 wife, his gun, his dog, and his drawings, — ^but without 
 feeling really depressed at his prospects. The family 
 reached Louisville, where they were kindly received by 
 a relative, and Audubon had time to think over some 
 scheme for raising support for his family. Possessed 
 of considerable skill as an artist in crayons, he conceived 
 the project of starting as a portrait draughtsman. As he 
 started at very low prices, his skill soon became known, 
 and in a few weeks he had as much work as he could do. 
 His family were settled with him, and his business spread 
 so far into Kentucky, that affluence was again enjoyed by 
 the wanderer. Audubon succeeded so well in portraying 
 the features of the dead, that a clergyman's child was 
 exhumed in order that the artist might have an opportu- 
 nity of taking a portrait of the corpse. 
 
 In illustration of his reputation as a crayon drawer, 
 Audubon relates that a settler came for him in the middle 
 of the night from a considerable distance, to have the 
 portrait of his mother taken while she was on the eve of 
 deaih. Audubon went with the farmer in his wagon, and 
 with the aid of a candle made a satisfactory sketch. This 
 success brought other successes, and the portrait painter 
 seemed to have got a new start in life. Shortly after- 
 3* 
 
58 Life of Audubon, 
 
 wards he received an invitation to become a curator of 
 the museum at Cincinnati, and for the preparation of 
 birds received a liberal remuneration. In conjunction 
 with this situation he opened a drawing school in the 
 same city, and obtained from this employment additional 
 emolument sufficient to support his family comfortably. 
 His teaching succeeded well until several of his pupils 
 started on their own account. The work at the museum 
 having been finished, Audubon fell back upon his portrait 
 painting and such resources as his genius could command. 
 Applying for assistance to an old friend whom he had 
 aided and assisted into business, the ungrateful wretch 
 declared he would do nothing for his benefactor, and 
 further added that he would not even recommend one 
 who had such wandering habits. On more occasions 
 than this his genius for discovery was made an argu- 
 ment against him. 
 
 :^: 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 Rambles in Kenhichy — Migrations into the WilJs of Kentucky — Rife 
 Shooting — Driving Nails with Bullets — Daniel Boone " Bark- 
 ing Squirrels " — Festivities on Beargrass Creek — Wild Scenes in 
 the Woods — Hunting the Racoon — Visit from the Eccentric Nat- 
 uralist j Rafinesqite — Daniel Boone^ the Famous Hunter. 
 
 URING his residence in Kentucky, Audubon 
 spent all his leisure time in rambles through 
 the wilds in search of natural history speci- 
 
 A variety of amusing incidents occurred in these 
 
 mens. 
 
 travels, and the wanderer has given several of these in a 
 full and connected form. His ready gun supplied abun- 
 dant fare to his homely table. Wild turkeys, deer, and 
 bears supplied constant wants, after a fashion that suited 
 the hunter well. While resident there, a flat-boat reached 
 the shore, containing ten or twelve stout fellows with their 
 wives, and declaring themselves to be " Yankees," asked 
 for work as wood cutters. Audubon, thinking that the 
 boat contained wheat, held parley with the occupants, 
 and finding that they were "likely" fellows, proposed to 
 engage them to cut down a government lot of one thou- 
 sand two hundred acres of fine timber he had purchased. 
 The wood cutters made fast their craft to the bank, started 
 a camp on shore, and, with their wives, managed to cook 
 their meals out of the game supplied by the forest. 
 Audubon and his miller visited the camp in the morning, 
 was rather pleased with the appearance of the fellows, 
 and engaged the gang. Commencing work, they soon 
 
6o Life of Audubon. 
 
 showed their excellent training, felling the trees after the 
 fashion of experienced woodmen. The daily and weekly 
 allowance of wood contracted for was safely delivered, 
 and Audubon had reason to feel much contentment ^sdth 
 his servants. The miller was satisfied ; and the master, 
 to prove his appreciation of the valuable services, sent 
 various presents of game and provisions to the strangers. 
 Finding they had neglected to forward their usual supply 
 one day, Audubon went off to their camp, found that 
 the "Yankees" had gone off bodily, had taken his 
 draught oxen with them, and had harried the place of 
 all that could be lifted. He and his miller hunted down 
 the river for the fugitives, but they had got a start and 
 were not to be caught. Finding an escape into the 
 Mississippi, the runaways voyaged out of reach of their 
 victim, and a rare accident alone placed one of them 
 within Audubon's power. While on board a Mississippi 
 steamer, Audubon saw a hunter leave the shore in a 
 canoe and reach the steamer. No sooner had the pas- 
 senger reached the deck, than he recognized in him one 
 of his plunderers ; but the woodcutter, fearing an arrest, 
 leaped into the stream and swam towards the shore. 
 Entering a canebrake, he was lost to sight, and the 
 naturalist was never gratified by either hearing of, or 
 seeing any one of the fellows again. 
 
 In referring to Kentuckian sports, Audubon remarks 
 that that State was a sort of promised land for all sorts of 
 wandering adventurers from the Eastern states. Families 
 cast loose fi:om their homesteads beyond the mountams, 
 wandered westward with their wagons, servants, cattle, 
 and household gods. Bivouacking by some spring, in 
 a glade of the primeval forest, near some well known 
 " salt lick," where game would be plentiful, these West- 
 ern representatives of the patriarchs moved on towards 
 new resting-places, from which the red man, not without 
 
Kentucky Sports. 6i 
 
 serious danger, had been driven. When a voyage by 
 water was meditated as the easiest means of transporting 
 the family and the baggage, a group of emigrants would 
 build an ark on some creek of the upper waters of the 
 Ohio, and in a craft forty or fifty feet long drift down the 
 stream, carrying upon the roof the bodies of carts and 
 wagons, upon the sides the wheels of the same. 
 
 Within these floating mansions the wayfarers lived, 
 not without fear of impending dangers. To show a light 
 through the loopholes within range of a redskin^s rifle 
 was certain death to the inmate; and night and day, 
 while these arks drifted under umbrageous forests, their 
 occupants were busy considering how their lives might 
 be most dearly sold. Audubon notices curious practices 
 connected with testing the skill of marksmen, not uncom- 
 mon in his own time in Virginia. "At stated times, 
 those desiring a trial of skill would be assembled," writes 
 the naturalist, " and betting a trifling sum, put up a target, 
 in the centre of which a common-sized nail is hammered 
 for about two-thirds of its length. The marksmen make 
 choice of what they consider a proper distance, which 
 may be forty paces. Each man cleans the interior of his 
 barrel, which is called wiping it, places a ball in the palm 
 of his hand, pouring as much powder from his horn upon 
 it as will cover it. This quantity is supposed to be suffi- 
 cient for any distance within a hundred yards. A shot 
 which comes very close to the nail is considered that of 
 an indifferent marksman ; the bending of the nail is, of 
 course, somewhat better ; but nothing less than hitting it 
 right on the head is satisfactory. One out of three shots 
 generally hits the nail, and should the shooters amount 
 to half-a-dozen, two nails are frequently needed before 
 each can have a shot. Those who drive the nail have a 
 fiirther trial amongst themselves, and the two best shots 
 out of these generally settle the affair; when all the 
 
62 Life of Audubon. 
 
 sportsmen adjourn to some house, and spend an hour or 
 two in friendly intercourse, appointing, before they part, 
 a day for another trial." ~ 
 
 While at the town of Frankfort, Audubon had an 
 opportunity of seeing the celebrated Daniel Boone 
 "barking squirrels," or, in less technical phrase, driv- 
 ing them out of their hiding-places by firing into the 
 bark of the tree immediately beside the position they 
 crouch into. Audubon went out with Boone to see the 
 sport, and writes : — - . .. • 
 ^ "We walked out together, and followed the rocky 
 margins of the Kentucky river until we reached a piece 
 of flat land thickly covered with black walnuts, oaks, and 
 hickories. As the mast was a good one that year, squir- 
 rels were seen gamboling on every tree around us. My 
 companion, a stout, hale, and athletic man, dressed in a 
 homespun hunting shirt, bare-legged and moccasined, 
 carried a long and heavy rifle, which, as he was loading 
 it, he said had proved efficient in all his former under- 
 takings, and which he hoped would not fail on this occa- 
 sion, as he felt proud to show me his skill. The gun was 
 wiped, the powder measured, the ball patched with six- 
 hundred thread linen, and the charge sent home with a 
 hickory rod. We moved not a step from the place, for 
 the squirrels were so numerous that it was unnecessary 
 to go after them. Boone pointed to one of these animals 
 which had observed us, and was crouched on a branch 
 about fifty paces distant, and bade me mark well the spot 
 where the ball should hit. He raised his piece gradually, 
 until the bead (that being the name given by the Ken- 
 tuckians to the sight) of the barrel was brought to a line 
 with the spot which he intended to hit, and fired. 
 
 " I was astounded to find that the ball had hit the 
 piece of the bark immediately beneath the squirrel, and 
 shivered it to splinters ; the concussion produced by 
 
A Kentucky Barbecue. S^ 
 
 which had killed the animal, and sent it whirling through 
 the air, as if it had been blown up. 
 
 " The snuffing of a candle with a ball I first had an 
 opportunity of seeing near the banks of Green Rivei^ not 
 far from a large pigeon roost, to which I had previously 
 made a visit. I heard many reports of guns during the 
 early part of a dark night, and knowing them to be those 
 of rifles, I went towards the spot to ascertain the cause. 
 On reaching the place, I was welcomed by a dozen of 
 tall, stout men, who told me they were exercising for the 
 purpose of enabling them to shoot under night at the 
 reflected light from the eye of a deer or wolf by torch- 
 light. 
 
 " At a distance of fifty paces stood a lighted candle, 
 barely distinguishable in the darkness. One man was 
 placed within a few yards of it, to watch the effects of 
 the shots, as well as to light the candle, should it chance 
 to go out, or to repair it, should the shot cut it across. 
 Each marksman shot in his turn. Some never hit 
 either the snuff or the candle. One of them, who was 
 particularly expert, was very fortunate, and snuffed the 
 candle three times out of seven, whilst all the other shots 
 either put out the candle, or cut it immediately under 
 the light." 
 
 During his residence in Kentucky, Audubon had 
 frequent opportunities of joining in the great American 
 festival of the 4th July. The particular occasion he de- 
 scribes as a " Kentucky Barbecue," and instances a very 
 delightful jubilee held on the Beargrass Creek, at which 
 all the settlers, with their wives and families, assisted. 
 The festival was held in a forest glade by the river's 
 side : the company arrived in their wagons, bringing 
 provisions of every kind, such fruits as the country af- 
 forded, wine, and " Old Monongahela " whiskey. When 
 the company had assembled, an immense cannon, built 
 
64 Life of Audubon. 
 
 of wood hooped with iron, and lighted by a train, was 
 fired, after which orations were made by various oracles. 
 The good things provided were then largely enjoyed, after 
 which dancing was indulged in with an enthusiasm suit- 
 able to such an occasion. Music was provided by vari- 
 ous amateurs, and the fun was only closed by a ride home 
 in the starlight. 
 
 " A maple sugar camp " was ahvays a pleasant refuge 
 to Audubon while wandering in the woods. He de- 
 scribes the wild appearance these camps presented when 
 suddenly reached in the darkness, afar in the woodland 
 solitudes, and only heralded by the snarling of curs and 
 the bowlings of the sugar-makers. 
 
 Huge log fires, over which the sugar caldrons were 
 boiled, gave the appearance of a witch incantation to a 
 spectacle in which picturesquely-dressed Indians, rough 
 backwoodsmen, and their strangely-dressed wives and 
 childreji took part. Raised on a few stones placed 
 around th^: hres, the sugar kettles were constantly tended 
 by the women, v;hile the men "bled" the sugar maple 
 trees, stuck into the wounds they made, cane pipes, which 
 drained the juice, and collected the maple sap into ves- 
 sels made by splitting up a " yellow poplar " into juice 
 troughs. Ten gallons of sap are required to make one 
 pound of fine-grained sugar, which in some instances is 
 equal to the finest make of candy. Such sugar sold in 
 Kentucky, in the time of Audubon, for as much as a dozen 
 cents in scarce seasons. 
 
 Racoon hunting was a pastime much enjoyed by Au- 
 dubon, and he has left plentiful records of his enjoyment 
 of the sport. He describes the hunter's visit to a home- 
 stead, and the preparations for a racoon hunt. The cost 
 of ammunition was so considerable in the west, while the 
 naturalist roved about, that the axe was reckoned a cheap- 
 er implement than the rifle to secure the prey. From the 
 
Racoon-Hunting, 6^ 
 
 naturalist's journal the following description is given, in 
 spired by the writer's own peculiar enthusiasm. The 
 cabin is made comfortable by a huge pile of logs laid 
 across the fire; the sweet potatoes are roasted in the 
 ashes; and when all is ready the hunters begin their 
 work. ' ^ 
 
 " The hunter has taken an axe from the wood pile, 
 and returning, assures us that the night is clear, and that 
 we shall have rare sport. He blows through his rifle, to 
 ascertain that it is clear, examines his flint, and thrusts a 
 feather into the touchhole. To a leathern bag swung at 
 his side is attached a powder-horn ; his sheathed knife is 
 there also ; below hangs a narrow strip of homespun 
 linen. He takes from his bag a bullet, pulls with his 
 teeth the wooden stopper from his powder-horn, lays the 
 ball on one hand, and with the other pours the powder 
 upon it, until it is just overtopped. Raising, the horn to 
 his mouth, he again closes it with the stopper, and re- 
 stores it to its place. He introduces the powder into the 
 tube, springs the box of his gun, greases the * patch ' over 
 some melted tallow, or damps it, then places it on the 
 honeycombed muzzle of his piece. The bullet is placed 
 on the patch over the bore, and pressed with the handle 
 of the knife, which now trims the edges of the linen. 
 The elastic hickory rod, held with both hands, smoothly 
 pushes the ball to its bed ; once, twice, thrice has it re- 
 bounded. The rifle leaps as it were into the hunter's 
 arms, the feather is drawn from the touchhole, the powder 
 fills the pan, which is closed. * Now I am ready,' cries 
 the woodsman. A servant lights a lorch, and off we 
 march to the woods. * Follow me close, for the ground 
 is covered with logs, and the grape-vines hang every- 
 where across. Toby, hold up the light, man, or we'll 
 never see the gullies. Trail your gun, sir, as General 
 Clark used to say — not so, but this way — that's it. Now 
 
66 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 then, no danger you see ; no fear of snakes, poor things ! 
 They are stiff enough, I'll be bound. The dogs have 
 treed one. Toby, you old fool, why don't you turn to 
 the right ? — not so much. There, go ahead and give us 
 a light What's that ? who's there ? Ah ! you young 
 rascals ! you've played us a trick, have you ? It's all 
 
 well enough, but now, just keep behind or I'll ' In 
 
 fact, the boys with eyes good enough to see in the dark, 
 although not quite so well as an owl, had cut directly 
 across to the dogs, which had surprised a racoon on the 
 ground, and bayed it, until the lads knocked it on the 
 head. * Seek him, boys ! " cries the hunter. The dogs, 
 putting their noses to the ground, pushed off at a good 
 rate. * Master, they're making for the creek,' says old To- 
 by. On towards it therefore we push. What woods, to be 
 sure ! We are now in a low flat covered with beech trees. 
 "The racoon was discovered swimming in a pool. 
 The glare of the lighted torch was doubtless distressing 
 to him ; his coat was ruffled, and his rounded tail seemed 
 thrice its ordinary size; his eyes shone like emeralds; 
 with foaming jaws he watched the dogs, ready to seize 
 each by the snout if it came within reach. They kept 
 him busy for some minutes ; the water became thick with 
 mud ; his coat now hung dripping, and his draggled tail 
 lay floating on the surface. His guttural growlings, in 
 place of intimidating his assailants, excited them the 
 more, and they very unceremoniously closed upon him. 
 One seized him by the rump and tugged, but was soon 
 forced to let go ; another stuck to his side, but soon tak- 
 ing a better-directed bite of his muzzle, the coon's fate 
 was sealed. He was knocked on the head, and Toby re- 
 marks, ' That's another half dollar's worth,' as he handles 
 the thick fur of the prey. The dogs are again found look- 
 ing up into a tree and barking furiously. The hunters 
 employ their axes, and send the chips about. ' - 
 
Racoon-Hunting. 67 
 
 " The tree began to crack, and slowly leaning to one 
 side, the heavy mass swung rustling through the air, and 
 fell to the earth with a crash. It was not one coon that 
 was surprised here, but three, one of which, more crafty 
 than the rest, leaped from the top while the tree was stag- 
 gering. The other two stuck to the hollow of a branch, 
 from which they were soon driven by one of the dogs. 
 Tyke and Lion having nosed the cunning old one, scam- 
 pered after him. He is brought to bay, and a rifle bullet 
 is sent through his head. The other two are secured 
 after a desperate conflict, and the hunters with their bags 
 full, return to the cabin." 
 
 While resident in Kentucky, Audubon was visited by 
 the eccentric naturalist, Rafinesque, whose manner of 
 life, dress, and oddities of conduct appear to have 
 greatly amused even one so little attentive to formalities 
 as the ornithologist. The stranger reached the banks of 
 the Ohio in a boat, and carrying on his back a bundle of 
 plants which resembled dried clover. He accidentally 
 addressed Audubon, and asked where the naturalist 
 lived. Audubon introduced himself, and was handed a 
 letter of introduction by the stranger, in which the writer 
 begged to recommend "an odd fish," which might not 
 have been described in published treatises. Audubon 
 innocently asked where the odd fish was, which led to a 
 pleasant explanation and a complete understanding be- 
 tween the two naturalists. 
 
 " I presented my learned guest to my family," writes 
 Audubon, " and was ordering a servant to go to the boat 
 for my friend's luggage, when he told me he had none 
 but what he brought on his back. He then loosened the 
 pack of weeds which had first drawn my attention. The 
 naturalist pulled ofi"his shoes, and while engaged in draw- 
 ing his stockings dowTi to hide the holes in his heels, he 
 explained that his apparel had suffered from his journey." 
 
6S Life of Audubon, 
 
 This eccentric's habits were neither tidy nor cleanly 
 He would hardly perform needful ablutions, and refused 
 a change of clean clothing, suggested as being more com- 
 fortable. " His attire," remarks Audubon, " struck me 
 as exceedingly remarkable. A long loose coat of yellow 
 nankeen, much the worse for the many rubs it had got in 
 its time, and stained all over with the juice of plants, hung 
 loosely about him like a sack. A waistcoat of the same, 
 with enormous pockets, and buttoned up to the chin, 
 reached below over a pair of tight pantaloons, the lower 
 part of which were buttoned down to the ankles. His 
 beard was as long as I have known my own to be during 
 some of my peregrinations, and his lank black hair hung 
 loosely over his shoulders. His forehead was so broad 
 and prominent that any tyro in phrenology would instant- 
 ly have pronounced it the residence of a mind of strong 
 powers. His words impressed an assurance of rigid 
 truth, and as he directed «.!^-^ conversation to the study of 
 the natural sciences, I listeixcd to him with great delight 
 He requested to see my drawings, anxious to see the 
 plants I had introduced besides the birds I had drawn. 
 Finding a strange plant among my drawings, he denied 
 its authenticity ; but on my assuring him that it grew in 
 the neighborhood, he insisted on going off instantly to 
 see it. 
 
 " When I pointed it out the naturalist lost all com- 
 mand over his feelings, and behaved like a maniac in ex- 
 pressing his delight. He plucked the plants one after 
 another, danced, hugged me in his arms, and exultingly 
 told me he had got, not merely a new species, but a new 
 genus. 
 
 " He immediately took notes of all the needful par- 
 ticulars of the plant in a note-book, which he carried 
 wrapt in a waterproof covering. After a day's pursuit of 
 natural history studies, the stranger was accommodated 
 
l!he Cane-Brake. 69 
 
 with a bed-room. We had all retired to rest ; every per- 
 son I imagined was in deep slumber save myself, when of 
 a sudden I heard a great uproar in the naturalist's room. 
 I got up, reached the place in a few moments, and opened 
 the door ; when, to my astonishment, I saw my guest run- 
 ning naked, holding the handle of my favorite violin, the 
 body of which he had battered to pieces against the walls 
 in attempting to kill the bats which had entered by the 
 open window, probably attracted by the insects flying 
 around his candle. I stood amazed, but he continued 
 jumping and running round and round, until he was 
 fairly exhausted, when he begged me to procure one of 
 the animals for him, as he felt convinced they belonged 
 to a *new species.* Although I was convinced of the 
 contrary, I took up the bow of my demolished Cremona, 
 and administering a smart tap to each of the bats as it 
 came up, soon got specimens enough. The war ended, 
 I again bade him good-night, but could not help observ- 
 ing the state of the room. It was strewed with plants, 
 which had been previously arranged with care. 
 
 "He saw my regret for the havoc that had been 
 created, but added that he would soon put his plants to 
 rights — after he had secured his new specimens of bats. 
 
 Rafinesque had great anxiety to be shown a cane-brake, 
 plenty of which were to be found in the neighborhood. 
 The cane-brake is composed of a dense growth of canes, 
 measuring twenty or thirty feet in height, and packed so 
 closely that a man's body requires to be forced between 
 the shafts of the canes. An undergrowth of plants and 
 trailing climbers further prevents progression, which has 
 to be accelerated by pushing the back between the canes. 
 Game of all sorts frequent the cane-brakes, in which trav- 
 elling is rendered disagreeably exciting by the presence 
 of bears, panthers, snakes, and serpents. The cane- 
 brakes are sometimes set fire to, and the water collected 
 
yo Life of Juduhon. 
 
 in the separate joints explodes like a shell. The con« 
 stant fusilade occasioned by such explosions in the midst 
 of a conflagration has occasioned the flight of parties not 
 conversant with the cause, and who believed that the In- 
 dians were advancing with volleys of musketry. I had 
 determined that my companion should view a cane-brake 
 in all its perfection, and leading him several miles in a 
 direct course, came upon as fine a sample as existed in 
 that part of the country. We entered, and for some time 
 proceeded without much difficulty, as I led the way, and 
 cut down the canes which were most likely to incommode 
 him. The difficulties gradually increased, so that we 
 were presently obliged to turn our backs and push our 
 way through. After a while we chanced to come upon 
 the top of a fallen tree, which so obstructed our passage, 
 that we were on the eve of going round, instead of thrust- 
 ing ourselves through amongst the branches ; when from 
 its bed, in the centre of the tangled mass, forth rushed a 
 bear with such force, that my friend became terror struck, 
 and in his haste to escape made a desperate attempt to 
 run, but fell amongst the canes in such a way that he was 
 completely jammed. I could not refrain from laughing 
 at the ridiculous exhibition he made, but my gaiety how- 
 ever was not very pleasing to the discomfited naturalist. 
 A thunder-storm with a deluge of rain completed our ex- 
 perience of the cane-brake, and my friend begged to be 
 taken out. This could only be accomplished by crawl- 
 ing in a serpentine manner out of the jungle, from which 
 the eccentric naturalist was delighted to escape, perfectly 
 overcome with fatigue and fear. The eccentric was more 
 than gratified with the exploit, and soon after left my 
 abode without explanation or farewell. A letter of 
 thanks, however, showed that he had enjoyed the hospi- 
 tality, and was not wanting in gratitude." 
 
 In his Kentucky rambles Audubon had more than 
 
Daniel Boone. 71 
 
 one opportunity of seeing and hunting with the famous 
 Colonel Boone, the Kentucky hunter, and hero of a mul- 
 titude of desperate adventures. On a particular occasion 
 Boone spent a night under Audubon's roof, and related 
 some of his adventures, among others, the following. On 
 a hunting expedition in which Boone was engaged, the 
 wanderer was afraid of Indians, and he consequently 
 damped out his fire before falling asleep. He had not 
 lain long before strong hands were laid upon him, and he 
 was dragged off to the Indian camp. Avoiding every 
 semblance of fear, Boone neither spoke nor resisted. 
 The Indians ransacked his pockets, found his whisky 
 flask, and commenced to drink from it. While so en- 
 gaged a shot was fired, and the male savages went off in 
 pursuit, while the squaws were left to watch the prisoner. 
 Rolling himself towards the fire, Boone burnt the fasten- 
 ings which bound him, sprang to his feet, and after hack- 
 ing three notches in an ash tree, afterwards known as 
 "Boone's Ash," fled from the neighborhood. In years 
 after, an engineer in Kentucky made the ash a point for a 
 survey. A lawsuit arose out of a boundary question, and 
 the only chance of closing it was by identifying " Boone's 
 Ash." The hunter was sent for, and after some search- 
 ing he pointed out the tree, in which the notches were 
 detected after the bark had been peeled away. Boone's 
 extraordinary stature and colossal strength struck Audu- 
 bon as remarkable among a remarkable race; and the 
 dreaded foe of the red man was notable for an honesty 
 and courage that could not be questioned. 
 
CHAPTER VL 
 
 Audubon haves Cincinnati with Captain Cummin<r — Arrival at 
 Natchez — Departure for New Orleans — Arrival at New Orleans 
 — Want of Success — Vanderlyn^ the Painter — Audubon leaves 
 New Orleans for Kentucky — Return to New Orleans — Reviau 
 of Work done since leaving Home. 
 
 |N the i2th of October, 1820, Audubon left Cin- 
 cinnati in company with Captain Cumming, an 
 American engineer who had been appointed to 
 make a survey of the Mississippi river, and after fourteen 
 days of drifting down the Ohio, the flat-boat which con- 
 tained the scientific " expedition " reached the Mississippi 
 river. The naturalist had failed to receive the money due 
 to him at Cincinnati, and vexed and discouraged, he de- 
 termined even without means to seek a new field for em- 
 ployment 
 
 From a letter addressed to the Governor of Arkansas 
 at this date, it is evident that Audubon had determined 
 on a lengthened excursion in the pursuit of ornithological 
 specimens, including the States of Mississippi, Alabama, 
 and Florida, afterwards retracing his steps to New Or- 
 leans up the Red River, down the Arkansas, and home- 
 ward to his wife. He had received letters of recommen- 
 dation from General, afterwards President Harrison, and 
 from Henry Clay, and good prospects seemed to dawn. 
 He had determined in any case to complete one hundred 
 drawings of birds before returning to Cincinnati, and he 
 fulfilled this resolve. 
 
 '•^On a clear frosty morning in December," writes 
 Audubon in his journal, " I arrived at Natchez, and found 
 
Natchez. 73 
 
 (he levee lined with various sorts of boats full of western 
 produce. The crowd was immense, and the market ap- 
 peared to be a sort of fair. Scrambling up to the cliffs 
 on which the city is built, I found flocks of vultures fly- 
 ing along the ground with outspread wings in the pursuit 
 of food. Large pines and superb magnolias crowned the 
 bluff, and their evergreen foliage showed with magnificent 
 effect. I was delighted with the spectacle of white-head- 
 ed eagles pursuing fishing-hawks, and surveyed the river 
 scenery sparkling in bright sunlight with a new pleasure. 
 Far away across the stream the shores were lost in the 
 primitive forests, and a mysterious unknown seemed to 
 lie beyond me. I was impressed with the pretty houses 
 of the upper town, built of painted brick or wood j and 
 to complete my feeling of enjoyment, my relative, Mr. 
 Berthoud, gave me letters from my wife and sons, re- 
 ceived by the weekly mail which then brought letters to 
 Natchez from all parts of the Union. The town owned 
 three thousand inhabitants ; was composed of an upper 
 town and a lower town, the latter chiefly built up of 
 beached flat-boats, converted into cabins by a rascally 
 and nondescript population. The planters' houses in 
 the upper town were models of luxury and comfort, but 
 the church architecture prevalent rather detracted from 
 the beauty of the place. I found the mocking-bird in 
 abundance, and the pewee fly-catcher at home in its win- 
 ter quarters. The old Spanish fort was still visible in 
 ruins, and a rumor reached me that many houses had 
 been buried in the river by a slip of the bank. At 
 Natchez, I was amazed to see a white-headed eagle at- 
 tack a vulture, knock it down, and gorge itself upon a 
 dead horse. M. Gamier, who kept the largest hotel in 
 the place, befriended me in many ways, and I also 
 formed an acquaintance with M. Charles Carr^, the son 
 of a French nobleman of the old regime. From Carrd I 
 
74 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 had a history of Natchez, as he had lived to witness the 
 career of that town under the Spaniards, French, and 
 Americans." 
 
 In connection with his residence in Natchez he tells 
 a significant story. A companion of his, voyaging, hav- 
 ing worn his shoes down, had no money to get them re- 
 paired or to purchase new ones. The naturalist was 
 likewise without the means ; but Audubon called upon a 
 shoemaker, explained that his friend was in want of shoes, 
 had no money to pay for them, but that if he chose he 
 should have the portrait of himself and his wife in return 
 for two pairs of boots. The shoemaker was satisfied with 
 the proposal, and the portraits were sketched in a couple 
 of hours, after which the naturalist and his friend bade 
 the shoemaker good-bye, each being fitted with new boots. 
 After some stay in Natchez, Audubon left for New Or- 
 leans with his friend Berthoud, in a keel-boat belonging 
 to tlie latter, but which was taken in tow of the steamer. 
 Not long after leaving, Audubon discovered that one of 
 his portfolios, containing some drawings of birds he prized 
 highly, was missing. Full of chagrin, he could only 
 recollect that he had brought it to the wharf and had 
 placed it in the hands of a servant, who had evidently 
 forgotten to put it on board the keel-boat. How to re- 
 cover it was a serious consideration. Letters were in- 
 stantly despatched to M. Gamier, M. Carrd, and friends 
 of Berthoud, to use their utmost endeavors to recover the 
 lost portfolio. After towing as far as Bayou Sara, the 
 steamer threw off the keel-boat, and with the aid of the 
 current and the oars Audubon continued his course to 
 Baton Rouge, on the way to New Orleans. Large flocks 
 of beautiful ducks were passed in various eddies, and the 
 naturalist was amused by groups of negroes catching 
 catfish in the river or scooping out shrimps with their 
 nets. 
 
On the Mississippi. 75 
 
 ** Nearing New Orleans, the country became perfectly 
 .evel, and from the embankments or levees we could see 
 the great river winding on for miles. The planters* 
 houses became more visible against groves of dark cy- 
 presses covered with hanging vine plants, and odorous 
 winds blew perfumes of the orange flowers across the 
 stream down which the boat so lazily drifted. Landing 
 on the banks, I made my way to the swamps, and shot 
 several beautiful boat-tailed grakles and a whole covey of 
 partridges. Thousands of swallows in their winter home 
 flew about us, and the cat-birds mewed in answer to their 
 chatterings. Doves echoed soft notes through the woods, 
 and the cardinal grosbeak sat on the top branches of the 
 magnolia, saluting us by elevating his glowing crest. On 
 the 6th of January, and when nearing New Orleans, a 
 sharp frost was felt which left some traces of ice, but at 
 the same time we had green peas, artichokes, and other 
 summer esculents on shore fresh from the garden." 
 
 On arriving at New Orleans, Audubon was relieved 
 to find that the lost portfolio had been found, and was lo- 
 cated safely in the office of the * Mississippi Republican ' 
 newspaper. He however found no work to do, and had 
 to live for some days in the boat he came with. The 
 money he had, not much, was stolen from him, and he 
 had not even as much as would pay a lodging he took in 
 advance. Amid all his difficulties he still kept wander- 
 ing to the woods, got additions made to his specimens, 
 and filled his portfolio with new drawings. Meeting an 
 Italian painter, Audubon explained his anxiety to have 
 work. The Italian introduced him to the director of the 
 theatre, who offered the naturalist one hundred dollars 
 per month to draw for him, but a fixed engagement could 
 not be entered upon. 
 
 On the 13th of January he called upon Jarvis the 
 painter, who objected to his manner of painting birds. 
 
^6 Life of Audubon. 
 
 He suggested that he might assist the artist in filling-in 
 backgrounds, and was requested to come back. 
 
 "I went back again," writes the naturalist, "but 
 found Mr. Jarvis had no use for me : he appeared in fact 
 to fear my rivalry. Meeting a friend, I was taken to the 
 counting-house of Mr. Pamar, where I was asked what I 
 would take the portraits of three children for. I an- 
 swered, One hundred dollars ; but various delays oc- 
 curred which prevented me from entering upon this en- 
 gagement. I wished for the money to send home to my 
 wife and children. 
 
 ''''January 14. Visited the levees, and found them 
 crowded with promenaders of every hue and nation. The 
 day was Sunday, and amusements were much indulged in. 
 Various quadroon balls held in the evening. Do not see 
 any good-looking or handsome women ; all have a citron 
 hue. Time passed sadly in seeking ineffectually for em- 
 ployment. I was fortunate in making a hit with the por- 
 trait of a well-known citizen of New Orleans. I showed 
 it to the public ; it made a favorable impression, and I 
 obtained several patrons. A few orders for portraits re- 
 lieved my necessities, and continuing my work of paint- 
 ing birds, the time passed more pleasantly. 
 
 "February 5. Spent my time running after orders for 
 portraits, and also in vain endeavors to obtain a sight of 
 Alexander Wilson^s * Ornithology,' but was unsuccessful 
 in seeing the book, which is very high priced. Obtained 
 some new birds and made copies. 
 
 ''''March 12. Of late have been unable to make many 
 entries i. my journal. Near our lodgings, on the south 
 angle of a neighboring chimney-top, a mocking bird reg- 
 ularly resorts, and pleases us with the sweetest notes 
 from the rising of the moon until about midnight, and 
 every morning from about eight o'clock until eleven, 
 when he flies away to the Convent gardens to feed. I 
 
.. ' Vanderlyn, 77 
 
 have noticed that bird, always in the same spot and same 
 position, and have been particularly pleased at hearing 
 him imitate the watchman's cry of * AlFs well ! ' which 
 comes from the fort, about three squares distant ; and so 
 well has he sometimes mocked it that I should have been 
 deceived if he had not repeated it too often, sometimes 
 several times in ten minutes. 
 
 ^^ March 21. Read in the papers this morning that the 
 treaty between Spain and the United States is concluded, 
 and that a clause provides that an expedition is to leave 
 Natchitoches next year to survey the boundary line of the 
 ceded territory. I determined to try for an appointment 
 as draughtsman and naturalist. I wrote to President 
 Monroe, and was quite pleased at the prospect before me. 
 I walked out in the afternoon of the day on which I 
 formed the project, and saw nothing but hundreds of new 
 birds in imagination within range of my gun. I have 
 been struck with the paucity of birds in the neighborhood 
 of New Orleans during a season I had expected to meet 
 with them. Many species of warblers, thrushes, &c., 
 which were numerous during the winter, have migrated 
 eastward towards Florida, leaving swallows and a few 
 water-birds almost the sole representatives of the feathered 
 race. ... 
 
 ^^ March 31. My time has been engrossed thinking 
 over and making plans about the Pacific expedition. I 
 called on Mr. Vanderlyn, the historical painter, with my 
 portfolio, to show him some of my drawings and ask him 
 for a recommendation. He said they were handsomely 
 done, and was pleased with the coloring and positions of 
 the birds drawn. He was however a rude-mannered 
 man, treated me as a mendicant, and ordered me to lay 
 down my portfolio in the lobby. I felt inclined to walk 
 off without farther comment, but the thought of further- 
 ing my prospects in connection with the expedition in- 
 
y8 Life of Audubon. 
 
 duced me to submit. In half an hour he returned with 
 an officer, and with an air more becoming asked me into 
 his private room. Yet I could see in his expression that 
 feeling of selfish confidence which always impairs in some 
 degree the worth of the greatest man who has it. The 
 perspiration ran down my face as I showed him my 
 drawings and laid them on the floor. An officer who was 
 with the artist, looking at the drawings, said with an oath 
 that they were handsome. Vanderlyn made a like re- 
 mark, and I felt comforted. Although he failed in paint- 
 ing women himself, he spoke disparagingly of my own 
 portraits; said they were too hard and too strongly 
 drawn. He sat down and wrote his note while I was 
 thinking of my journey to the Pacific, and I cared not a 
 picayune for his objections to my portraits so that my 
 prospects of going with the expedition were furthered. 
 Vanderlyn gave me a very complimentary note, in which 
 he said that he never had seen anything superior to my 
 drawings in any country, and for which kindness I was 
 very thankful. His friend, the officer, followed me to the 
 door, asked the price of my portraits, and very courte- 
 ously asked me to paint his likeness." 
 
 Audubon's fortunes in New Orleans varied exceed- 
 ingly. From the sorest penury and deepest distress he 
 was suddenly raised by the happy spirit he possessed and 
 the untiring energy of his character. One day he was 
 going about seeking for a patron to obtain a few dollars 
 by drawing a portrait ; the next he was dining with Gov- 
 ernor Robertson of Louisiana, who gave him a letter of 
 recommendation to President Monroe in connection with 
 the expedition to Mexico. He had determined to go to 
 Shipping Port, Kentucky, but his departure was hindered 
 by an engagement from a few pupils. He writes in his 
 diary : — 
 
 " yune 16. Left New Orleans in the steamer Colum- 
 
Mrs, Perrie, 
 
 19 
 
 bus, Captain John D'Hart, for Shipping Port, Kentucky. 
 Been greatly oppressed while at work lately, and greatly 
 tormented by mosquitoes, which prevented my sleeping 
 at night. Much disappointed by one patron at New Or 
 leans, who affected great interest in me, but would not 
 pay one hundred dollars he owed." 
 
 It happened however that Audubon was not to re- 
 turn to his family as soon as he expected. The voyage 
 to Shipping Port was cut short by the acceptance of a 
 situation in tlie family of Mrs. Perrie, who owned a plan- 
 tadon at Bayou Sara, in Louisiana. The duties accepted 
 by Audubon were apparently simple enough. He was to 
 teach Mrs. Perrie's daughter drawing during the summer 
 months, at sixty dollars per month. His lessons would 
 absorb one half of the day, and with a young friend. 
 Mason, he was to have the rest of his time free for hunt- 
 ing. Board and lodging were provided for the two friends, 
 and Mrs. Perrie's aim appears to have been to provide 
 an opportunity for Audubon to carry on his pursuits un- 
 der the guise of an employment which would be con- 
 genial, and not interfere with his work. 
 
 " We arrived at the landing at the mouth of the bayou 
 on a hot sultry day, bid adieu to our fellow-passengers, 
 climbed the hill at St. Francisville, and rested a few min- 
 utes at the house of Mr. Swift. Dinner was nearly ready, 
 and we were invited to partake, but I had no heart for it. 
 I wished myself on board the Columbus ; I wished for 
 my beloved Lucy and my dear boys. I felt that I should 
 be awkward at the table ; and a good opportunity having 
 offered me to go to Mr. Perrie's, we walked slowly on, 
 guided by some of the servants, who had been sent, when 
 the family heard of our coming, to bring our luggage, 
 which they found light. 
 
 *' The aspect of the country was entirely new to me, 
 and distracted my mind from those objects which are the 
 
8o Life of Auduhon. 
 
 occupation of my life. The rich magnolias covered with 
 fragrant blossoms, the holly, the beech, the tall yellow 
 poplar, the hilly ground, and even the red clay, all excited 
 my admiration. Such an entire change in the face of 
 nature in so short a time seems almost supernatural; 
 and surrounded once more by numberless warblers and 
 thrushes, I enjoyed the scene. The five miles we walked 
 appeared short, and we arrived and met Mr. Perrie at his 
 house. Anxious to know him, I examined his features 
 by Lavater's directions. We were received kindly. 
 
 ''^August II. We were awakened last night by a serv- 
 ant requesting me to accompany Mrs. Perrie to the house 
 of a dying neighbor about a mile distant. We went, but 
 arrived too late, for the man was dead, and I had the 
 pleasure of keeping his body company the remainder of 
 the night. On such occasions time flies very slowly, so 
 much so, that it looked as if it stood still, like the hawk 
 that poises in the air over his prey. The poor man had 
 drunk himself into an everlasting sleep. I made a good 
 sketch of his head, and left the house, while the ladies 
 were engaged in preparing the funeral dinner. 
 
 ''^August 12. Left this morning to visit a beautiful 
 lake, six miles distant, where we are told there are many 
 beautiful birds. The path led through a grove of rich 
 magnolia woods. On the way we saw a rich-colored 
 spider at work rolling up a horsefly he had caught in his 
 web. He spirted a stream of fluid from his mouth, at 
 the same time rolling the fly *n it, until he looked like 
 the COG jon of a silkworm ; ana having finished his work, 
 returned to the centre of his nest. This is no doubt the 
 way he puts up his food when he is not hungry-, and pro- 
 vides for the future. 
 
 ^^ August 25. Finished drawing a very fine specimen 
 of a rattlesnake, which measured five feet and seven inches, 
 weighed six and a quarter pounds, and had ten rattles. 
 
A Rattlesnake, 8 1 
 
 Anxious to give it a position most interesting to a natu- 
 ralist, I put it in that which the reptile commonly takes 
 when on the point of striking madly with its fangs. I 
 had examined many before, and especially the position 
 of the fangs along the superior jawbones, but had nevei 
 seen one showing the whole exposed at the same time \ 
 and having before this supposed that it was probable 
 that those lying enclosed below the upper one, in most 
 specimens, were to replace the upper one, which I thought 
 might drop periodically as the animal changed its skin 
 and rattles. However, on dissection of these from the 
 ligament by which they were attached to the jawbones, I 
 found them strongly and I think permaneixtly fixed there 
 as follows. Two superior, or next to the upper lip (I 
 speak of one side of the jaws only), were well connected 
 at their bases and running parallel their whole length, 
 with apertures on the upper and lower sides of their bases 
 to receive the poison connectedly, and the discharging 
 one a short distance from the sharp point on the inner 
 part of the fangs. The next two fangs, about a quarter 
 of an inch below, connected and received in the same 
 manner but with only one base aperture on the lower side 
 of each, and the one at the point which issues the poison 
 to the wound. The fifth, rather smaller, is also about a 
 quarter of an inch below. The scales of the belly, to the 
 under part of the mouth, numbered one hundred and 
 seventy, and twenty-two from the vent to the tail. The 
 heat of the weather was so great that I could devote only 
 sixteen hours to the drawing. 
 
 " October 20. Left Bayou Sara in the Ramapo, with 
 a medley of passengers, and arrived safely in New 
 Orleans. My long, flowing hair, and loose yellow nan- 
 keen dress, and the unfortunate cut of my features, 
 attracted much attention, and made me desire to be 
 dressed ilke other people as soon as possible. My 
 4* 
 
82 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 friends the Pamars received me kindly and raised my 
 spirits ; they looked on me as a son returned from a long 
 and dangerous voyage, and children and servants as well 
 as the parents were all glad to see me. 
 
 " October 25. Rented a house in Dauphinc street at 
 seventeen dollars per month, and determined to bring 
 my family to New Orleans. Since I left Cincinnati, 
 October 12, 1820, I have finished sixty-two drawings 
 of birds and plants, three quadrupeds, two snakes, fifty 
 portraits of all sorts, and have subsisted by my humble 
 talents, not having had a dollar when I started. I sent 
 a draft to my wife, and began life in New Orleans with 
 forty-two dollars, health, and much anxiety to pursue my 
 plan of collecting all the birds of America." 
 
 Audubon speaks with boyish gaycty of the comfort 
 which a new suit of clothes gave him. He called on 
 Mrs. Clay with his drawings, but got no work — no pupils. 
 He determined to make a public exhibition of his ornitho- 
 logical drawings. - '; ■ • 
 
 Under date November 10, he remarks : "Mr. Raste- 
 rop called on me, and wished me to join him in painting 
 a panorama of the city ; but my birds, my beloved birds 
 of America, occupy all my time, and nearly all my 
 thoughts, and I do not wish to see any other perspective 
 than the last specimen of these drawings." 
 
 Audubon relates many instances of squatter life on 
 the great American rivers. The features of this peculiar 
 life struck him with a picturesque force that makes his 
 descriptions of the constant emigrations from the East, 
 and the settlement of the wanderers in the West, very 
 interesting indeed. In a detailed account he describes 
 how the settlers in Virginia became impoverished through 
 the reckless system of huslxandry pursued, and how, after 
 suffering penury, they determined to emigrate to more 
 fertile lands. He thus gra()hically narrates the patri- 
 archal wanderings of the wearied wayfarers. 
 
Early Settlers. 83 
 
 " I think I see them harnessing their horses, and 
 attaching them to tlieir wagons, which are already fitted 
 with bedding, provisions, and the younger children ; 
 while on their outside are fastened spinning-wheels and 
 looms, a bucket filled with tar and tallow swings betwixt 
 the hind wheels. Several axes are secured to the bolster, 
 and the feeding-trough of the horses contains pots, ket- 
 tles, and pans. The servant now becomes a driver, riding 
 the near saddled horse, the wife is mounted on another, 
 the worthy husband shoulders his gun, and his sons, clad 
 in plain, substantial homespun, drive the cattle ahead, and 
 lead the procession, followed by the hounds and other 
 dogs. Their day's journey i > short and not agreeable. 
 The cattle, stubborn or wild, frequently leave the road for 
 the woods, giving the travellers much trouble ; the harness 
 of the horses here and there gives way, and immediate 
 repair is needed. A basket which has accidentally drop- 
 ped must be gone after, for nothing that they have can 
 be spared. The roads are bad, and now and then all 
 hands are called to push on the wagon, or prevent it from 
 upsetting. Yet by sunset they have proceeded perhaps 
 twenty miles. Fatigued, all assemble round the fire, 
 which has been lighted ; supper is prepared, and a camp 
 being run up, there they pass the night. Days and weeks 
 pass before they gain the end of their journey. They 
 have crossed both the Carolinas, Georgia, and Alabama. 
 They have been travelling from the beginning of May to 
 that of September, and with heavy hearts they traverse 
 the neighborhood of the Mississippi. But now arrived 
 on the banks of the broad stream, they gaze in amaze- 
 ment on the dark deep woods around them. Boats of 
 various kinds th .y see gliding downwards with the cur- 
 rent, while othc-i, slowly ascend against it. A few inqui- 
 ries are made at the nearest dwelling, and assisted by 
 the inhabitants with their boats and canoes, they at once 
 
84 Life of Audubon. 
 
 cross the river, and select their place of habitation. The 
 exhalations arising from the swamps and morasses around 
 them have a powerful effect on these new settlers, but all 
 are intent on preparing for the winter. A small patch of 
 ground is cleared by the axe and fire, a temporary cabin 
 is erected ; to each of the cattle is attached a bell before 
 it is let loose into the neighboring canebrake, and the 
 horses remain about the house, where they find sufficient 
 food at that season. The first trading boat tliat stops at 
 their landing enables them to provide themselves with 
 some flour, fish-hooks, and ammunition, as well as other 
 commodities. The looms are mounted, the spinning- 
 wheels soon furnish some yarn, and in a few weeks the 
 family throw off their ragged clothes, and array them- 
 selves in suits adapted to the climate. 
 
 " The father and sons meanwhile have sown turnips 
 and other vegetables ; and from some Kentucky flat-boat 
 a supply of live poultry has been purchased. October 
 tinges the leaves of the forest; the morning dews are 
 heavy ; the days hot and the nights chill, and the unac- 
 climatised family in a few days are attacked with ague. 
 The lingering disease almost prostrates their whole facul- 
 ties. Fortunately the unhealthy season soon passes over, 
 and the hoar-frosts make their appearance. Gradually 
 each individual recovers strength. The largest ash trees 
 are felled, their trunks are cut, split, and corded in front 
 of the building; a large fire is lighted at night on the 
 edge of the water, and soon a steamer calls to purchase 
 the wood, and thus add to their comforts during the 
 winter. This first frait of their industry imparts new 
 courage to them ; their exertions multiply, and when 
 spring returns the place has a cheerful look. Venison, 
 bear's flesh, and turkeys, ducks and geese, with now and 
 then some fish, have served to keep up their strength, 
 and now their enlarged field is planted with corn, pota- 
 
l!he Opossum, 85 
 
 toes, and pumpkins. Their stock of cattle, too, has 
 augmented : the steamer which now stops there, as if by 
 preference, buys a calf or pig, together with their wood. 
 Their store of provisions is renewed, and brighter rays 
 of hope enliven their spirits. 
 
 " The sons discover a swamp covered with excellent 
 timber, and as they have seen many great rafts of saw- 
 logs, bound for the saw-mills of New Orleans, floating 
 past their dw^elling, they resolve to try the success of a 
 little enterprise. A few cross-saws are purchased, and 
 some broad-wheeled * carry-logs' are made by them- 
 selves. Log after log is hauled to the bank of the river, 
 and in a short time their first raft is made on the shore, 
 and loaded with cord wood. When the next freshet sets 
 it afloat it is secured by long grape vines or cables, until, 
 the proper time being arrived, the husband anJ sons 
 embark on it and float down the mighty stream. After 
 encountering many difficulties, they arrive in safety at 
 New Orleans, where they dispose of their stock, the 
 money obtained for which may be said to be all profit ; 
 supply themselves with such articles as may add to their 
 convenience or comfort, and with light hearts procure a 
 passage on the upper deck of a steamer at a very cheap 
 rate, on account of the benefit of their labors in taking in 
 wood or otherwise. Every successive year has increased 
 their savings. They now possess a large stock of horses, 
 cows, and hogs, with abundance of provisions, and domes- 
 tic comforts of every kind. The daughters have been 
 married to the sons of neighboring squatters, and have 
 gained sisters to themselves by the marriage of their 
 brothers." 
 
 He introduces, among other episodes of natural 
 history, an account of the habits of the opossum — " the 
 dissimulator." The walk of this animal he describes as 
 an amble like that of a young foal or a Newfoundland 
 
86 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 dog. Its movements are rather slow — it travels across 
 the snow-covered ground about as fast as a man could 
 walk— snuffing at everj^ step for traces of the prey it 
 searches after. Entering some cranny, it pulls out a 
 squirrel it has killed, and climbing a tree, secretes itself 
 amons: the thick branches to eat its repast. Exhausted 
 by hunger in the early spring, the opossum will eat young 
 frogs, and the green growth of nettles and other succulent 
 plants. Unscared by the watchful crows the farmer has 
 killed, the pest creeps into the hen-house, eats the chickens, 
 robs the hen of the eggs she is sitting upon, and commits 
 its devastations with address and adroitness. Prowhng 
 about after sunset, it avoids all sorts of precautions, and 
 defies the farmer's guns and curs alike. In the woods it 
 eats the eggs of the wild turkey, and ravenously devours 
 the grapes of the grapevine. When attacked, it /oils itself 
 up like a ball, submits to be kicked and maltreated with- 
 out moving, feigns death, lies on the ground with shut 
 eyes, and cheats its assailants into the belief that it has 
 been destroyed. When its assailant has gone, life seem- 
 ingly suddenly returns, and regaining its feet, it scampers 
 off to the wilds. 
 
 " Once while descending the Mississippi in a sluggish 
 flat-bottomed boat, expressly for the purpose of studying 
 those objects of nature more nearly connected with my 
 favorite pursuits, I chanced to meet with two well-grown 
 opossums, pnd brought them alive to the * ark.' The 
 poor thii - »vere placed on the roof or deck, and were 
 immediately assailed by the crew, when, following their 
 natural instinct, they lay as if quite dead. An experiment 
 was suggested, and both were thrown overboard. On 
 striking tl'e water, and for a few moments after, neither 
 evinced the least disposition to move ; but finding their 
 situation desperate, they began to swim towards our 
 uncouth rudder, which was formed of a long slender tree, 
 
opossums, 87 
 
 extending from the middle of the boat thirty feet beyond 
 the stern. They both got upon it, were taken up, and 
 afterwards let loose in their native woods. 
 
 "In the year 1829, I was in a portion of Lower Loui- 
 siana, where the opossum abounds at all seasons, and 
 having been asked by the President and Secretary of the 
 Zoological Gardens and Society of London to forward 
 live animals of this species to them, I offered a price a 
 little above the common, and soon found myself plenti- 
 fully supplied, twenty-five having been brought to me. 
 I found them extremely voracious, and not less cowardly. 
 They were put into a large box, with a great quantity of 
 food, and conveyed to a steamer bound to New Orleans. 
 Two days afterwards I went to the city to see about 
 sending them off to Europe ; but to my sui-prise I found 
 that the old males had destroyed the younger ones, and 
 eaten off their heads, and that only sixteen remained 
 alive. A separate box was purchased for each, and the 
 cannibals were safely fonvarded to their destination." 
 
CHAPTER VIL 
 
 Wife and Sons arrive at N'ew Orleans — Difficulties of Obtaining 
 a Livelihood — Recollections of an Eccentric — A Bii'dfancier 
 and an Artist — RiJIe Practice in a Studio — Atcdnbott's Ar- 
 rival at Natchez — Attack of Fever— Raffie of a Drawings 
 and Results — Audubon studies Oil Painting — The Naturalist 
 lets loose his Pet Birds — Visit to Bayou Sara — A Den cj 
 Gamblers — Leaves for Louisville with his son Victor — Wan- 
 derings through the Wilds — Residence at Louisville — An Ad- 
 venture in the Woods — Floods of the Mississippi — The Waste 
 of Waters — The Flooded Forest — Slaughter of Game. 
 
 ECEMBER 8. My wife and family arrived to- 
 day by steamer. We dined with our friend ^Mr. 
 Pamar, and met my old friend Mr. Rosier in the 
 evening. We reached our lodging, and all felt happy and 
 comforted at the reunion, after fourteen months of separa- 
 tion." 
 
 For the first two months of 1822, the records of Au- 
 dubon's life are sparse and imperfect, on account of his 
 inability to purchase a book to write his journal in ! The 
 one at last obtained was made of thin, poor paper, and 
 the records entered are rather in keeping with his finan- 
 cial difficulties. It took all his means at this time to 
 supply his family with the necessaries of life, and in order 
 to obtain money to educate the children, his wife under- 
 took the duties of a situation, in which she had charge of 
 and educated the offspring of a Mr. Brand. 
 
 ^^ March 7. Spring is advancing, with many pleasant 
 associations, but my bodily health suffers from depres- 
 sion. I have resolved to leave for Natchez, but grieve to 
 
An Eccentric 89 
 
 leave my family. My money is scarce, and I find great 
 difficulty in collecting what is owing to me. 
 
 ^'' March 16. Paid all my bills in New Orleans, and 
 having put my baggage on board of the steamer Eclat, 
 obtained a passage to Natchez in the steamer, in return 
 for a cra/on portrait of the captain and his wife. 
 
 ''''March 19. Opened a chest with two hundred of my 
 bird portraits in it, and found them sorely damaged by 
 the breaking of a bottle containing a quantity of gunpow- 
 der. I had several portraits to draw during the passage. 
 
 '•'' March 2\. One of the passengers accused Alexan- 
 der Wilson, the ornithologist, of intemperate habits, but I • 
 had the satisfaction of defending his character from as- 
 persion. I had hope of success in Natchez, and soon ex- 
 pected to be followed by my wife and family. My wife 
 in the meantime remained at New Orleans, in the family 
 of Mr. Brand." 
 
 In closing his recollections of New Orleans, Audubon 
 relates an amusing history of a painter, whose eccentrici- 
 ties fascinated the naturalist. The genius was first ob- 
 served by the naturalist on the Levee at New Orleans, 
 and his odd costume and appearance are thus de- 
 scribed : 
 
 " His head was covered by a straw hat, the brim of 
 which might cope with those worn by the fair sex in 
 1830 ; his neck was exposed ^o the weather ; the broad 
 frill of a shirt, then fashionable, flopped about his breast, 
 whilst an extraordinary collar, carefully arranged, fell over 
 the top of his coat. The latter was of a light-green color, 
 harmonizing well with a pair of flowing yellow nankeen 
 trousers and a pink waistcoat, from the bosom of which, 
 amidst a large bunch of the splendid flowers of the mag- 
 nolia, protruded part of a young alligator, which seemed 
 more anxious to glide through the muddy waters of a 
 swamp than to spend its life swinging to and fro amongst 
 
no Life of Auduhon, 
 
 folds of the finest lawn. The gentleman held in one 
 hand a cage full of richly-plumed nonpareils, whilst in the 
 other he sported a silk umbrella, on which I could plain- 
 ly read * Stolen from I,' these words being painted in 
 large white characters. He walked as if conscious of 
 his own importance ; that is, with a good dea} of pom- 
 posity, singing, * My love is but a lassie yet ;' and that 
 with such thorough imitation of the Scotch emphasis, that 
 had not his physiognomy suggested another parentage, I 
 should have believed him to be a genuine Scot. A nar- 
 rower acquaintance proved him to be a Yankee ; and 
 anxious to make his acquaintance, I desired to see his 
 birds. He retorted, ^ What the devil did I know about 
 birds ? ' I explained to him that I was a naturalist, 
 whereupon he requested me to examine his birds. I did 
 so with some interest, and was preparing to leave, when 
 he bade m.e come to his lodgings and see the remainder 
 of his collection. This I willingly did, and was struck 
 with amazement at the appearance of his studio. Several 
 cages were hung about the walls, containing specimens of 
 birds, all of which I examined at my leisure. On a large 
 easel before me stood an unfinished portrait, other pic- 
 tures hung about, and in the room were two young pu- 
 pils ; and at a glance I discovered that the eccentric 
 stranger was, like myself, a naturalist and an artist. The 
 artist, as modest as he was odd, showed me how he laid 
 on the paint on his pictures, asked after my own pursuits, 
 and showed a friendly spirit which enchanted me. With 
 a ramrod for a rest, he prosecuted his work vigorously, 
 and afterwards asked me to examine a percussion lock 
 on his gun, a novelty to me at the time. He snapped 
 some caps, and on my remarking that he would frighten 
 his birds, he exclaimed, ' Devil take the birds, there are 
 more of them in the market.' He then loaded his gun, 
 and wishing to show me that he was a marksman, fired 
 
Mr. ^aglass, ' 91 
 
 at one of the pins on his easel. This he smashed to 
 pieces, and afterward put a rifle bullet exictly through 
 the hole into which the pin fitted." 
 
 -■' The voyage up the Mississippi to Natchez appears to 
 have been without any circumstance of importance. 
 Under date March 24th, 1822, the naturalist records the 
 fact that he had arrived at Natchez. *' I went ashore to 
 see after work — called on Mr. Quigley, who received me 
 cordially. I had prospects of an engagement with Mr. 
 Quaglass, a Portuguese gentleman, who wished me to 
 give lessons in drawing and music and French to his 
 daughter, thirteen years of age. I was received at his 
 house, and received a welcome from his wife. Mr. 
 Quaglass arrived at home in the evening, and his appear- 
 ance was by no means prepossessing. His small gray 
 eyes and corrugated brows did not afford me an oppor- 
 tunity of passing a favorable judgment. My time has 
 been mostly engaged in hunting, drawing, and attending 
 to my charge. I constantly regret the separation from 
 my family." 
 
 Ere long he got an appointment to teach drawing in 
 the college at Washington, nine miles from Natchez. He 
 sent for his sons, and put them to school at Washington, 
 but was depressed in spirits because his work interfered 
 with his ornithological pursuits. 
 
 ' " Ju/y 8. Constant exposure in the tropical climate, 
 and the fatigue of my journeys to and from Washington, 
 brought on fever and a renewal of a certain kind doctor's 
 attendance, who not only would accept of no remunera- 
 tion, but actually insisted on my taking his purse to pay 
 for the expenses connected with the education of my sons. 
 Shortly afterwards I made an engagement with Mr. Bre- 
 vost to teach drawing in an academy just opened in 
 Natchez by that gentleman. But while work flowed upon 
 me, the hope of my completing my book upon the birds 
 
02 Life of Audubon. 
 
 of America became less clear ; and full of despair, I fear- 
 ed my hopes of becoming known to Europe as a natural* 
 ist were destined to be blasted. I wrote to my wife to 
 join me at Natchez, and there was hopes of it being ac- 
 complished. 
 
 " yuly 23. My friend, Joseph Mason, left me to-day, 
 and we experienced great pain at parting. I gave him 
 paper and chalks to work his way with, and the double- 
 barrelled gun I had killed most of my birds widi, and 
 which I had purchased at Philadelphia in 1805. I also 
 began to copy the * Death of Montgomery,' from a print 
 My drawing was highly praised by my friends at Natchez, 
 and Dr. Provan, like a good genius, insisted it should be 
 raffled. I valued it at three hundred dollars, and Dr. 
 Provan sold all the tickets but one, at ten dollars each. 
 He then put my name down for that, saying he hoped il 
 would be the winning one. The raffle took place in my 
 absence, and when I returned, my friend tlie doctor came 
 and brought me three hundred dollars and the picture, 
 beautifully framed, saying, * Your number has drawn it, 
 and the subscribers are all agreed that no one is more 
 deserving of it than yourself.' " 
 
 ^^ September i. My wife writes to me that the child she 
 was in charge of is dead, and that consequently she had 
 determined to come on to Natchez. I received her with 
 giear pleasure at the landing, and immediately got a house 
 hired, in which we might resume housekeeping. In the 
 mean time my wife engaged with a clerg}Tnan named 
 Davis, in a situation similar to that which she had held in 
 New Orleans. I was much pleased with the conduct of 
 Mr. Quaglass, whose kindness of heart very much belied 
 his coarse exterior. 
 
 ^^ October 2"]. I met a gentleman from Mexico, who 
 proposed to me to go to Mexico and establish a paper- 
 mill in that country. He proposed to supply the funds 
 
Painting in Oil, 93 
 
 if I took care of the* mill. At Natchez I met Mr. Mur- 
 ray, formerly of Charleston, and Mr. Blackburn, formerly 
 of Cincinnati. They had both suffered heavy reverses of 
 fortune, and appeared to me to be in distress. Their 
 change of fortune was sufficient to reconcile me to my 
 own vexations. 
 
 " November 3. While engaged in sketching a view of 
 Natchez, an English gentleman named Leacock was in- 
 troduced to me as a naturalist. He called and spent 
 the evening with me, and examined my drawings, and ad- 
 \dsed me to visit England and take them with me. But 
 when lie said I should probably have to spend several 
 years to perfect them, and to make myself known, I closed 
 my drawings and turned my mind from the thought. My 
 wife, finding it difficult to get her salary for teaching, has 
 resolved to relinquish her situation." 
 \ In December there arrived at Natchez a portrait- 
 painter, from whom Audubon received his first lessons in 
 the use of oil colors, and who was in return instructed by 
 the naturalist in chalk drawing. Mrs. Audubon was de- 
 sirous that her husband should go to Europe, and obtain 
 complete instruction in the use of oil ; and with this aim 
 in view she entered into an engagement with a Mrs. Per- 
 cy to educate her children, along with her own and a 
 limited number of pupils. Mrs. Percy lived at Bayou 
 Sara, and thither Mrs. Audubon removed, while her hus- 
 band remained at Natchez, painting with his friend Stein, 
 the artist whose instructions in oil painting had been so 
 valuable. After enjoying all the patronage to be expect- 
 ed at Natchez, Audubon and his friend Stein resolved to 
 start on an expedition as perambulating portrait-painters ; 
 and purchasing a wagon, prepared for a long expedi- 
 tion through the Southern States. 
 
 " I had finally determined to break through all bonds, 
 and pursue my ornithological pursuits. My best friends 
 
04 Lifs of Auduhon, 
 
 solemnly regarded me as a madman, and my wife and 
 family alone gave me encouragement. My wife deter- 
 mined that my genius should prevail, and that my final 
 success as an ornithologist should be triumphant. 
 
 ^^ Marchj 1823. My preparations for leaving Natchez 
 almost complete. 
 
 ^^ May I. Left Mr. Percy's on a visit to Jackson, Mis- 
 sissippi, which I found to be a mean place, a rendezvous 
 for gamblers and vagabonds. Disgusted with the place 
 and the people, I left it and returned to my wife. I 
 agreed to remain with the Percys throughout the sum- 
 mer, and teach the young ladies music and drawing. I 
 continued to exercise myself in painting with oil, and 
 greatly improved myself. I undertook to paint the por- 
 traits of my wife's pupils, but found their complexions 
 diflficult to transfer to canvas. On account of some mis- 
 understanding, I left the Percy's and returned tc Natch- 
 ez, but did not know w^hat course to follow. I thought of 
 going to Philadelphia, and again thought of going to 
 Louisville and once more entering upon mercantile pur- 
 suits, but had no money to move anywhere." 
 
 During a visit to a plantation near Natchez, both he 
 and his son Victor were attacked wuth fever, and Mrs. 
 Audubon hastened to nurse both of them. 
 
 ' " September 8. I was asked to go and recruit my health 
 at the Percys, and I went to Bayou Sara. I sent on my 
 drawings to Philadelphia, and resolved to visit that city 
 and obtain employment as a teacher. 
 
 " September 30. Sold a note fbr services in Natchez, 
 and with proceeds took steamer to New Orleans. 
 
 " October 3. Left New Orleans for Kentucky, where 
 I intended to leave my son Victor with my wife's rela- 
 tions, and proceed on my travels. I left Bayou Sara with 
 my son Victor on board the steamer Magnet, bound for 
 the Ohio, and was kindly treated by Captain McKnight, 
 
Wanderings through Wilds, 95 
 
 the commander. After a pleasant voyage we arrived at 
 the beautiful village of Trinity, but found the water too 
 low for further navigation. I had resolved to push on my 
 journey, if Victor was strong enough to undertake the ex- 
 ertion. Two other passengers desired to accompany us, 
 and after I had left my luggage to the care of the tavern- 
 keeper, our party crossed Cash Creek, at which I had be- 
 fore spent a pleasant time, and pushed across the coun- 
 try. Victor, who was scarcely fourteen, was a lively bo}^, 
 and had no fear of failing. Cleaving our way, Indian-file 
 fashion, through the cane brakes — through the burnt 
 forest — through the brushwood-clad banks of the river, 
 and along the pebbly shore, we reached, after twelve 
 miles' walking, the village of America. After refreshing 
 ourselves we covered another seven miles, and reached a 
 cabin, where we were well received by a squatter family. 
 "After a bath in the Ohio, my son and myself joined 
 the rest, and we enjoyed an excellent supper, and a capi- 
 tal sleep in such beds as could be provided. We rose at 
 break of day and left our kind host and hostess, who 
 would receive no pecuniary reward. At seven miles 
 further we found an excellent breakfast at a house owned 
 by a very lazy fellow, whose beautiful wife appeared to be 
 superior to her station, and who conducted the household 
 affairs in a very agreeable manner. We left a dollar 
 with one of the children, and pursued our way along the 
 beach of the Ohio. After proceeding some distance, my 
 son Victor broke down, but after a rest he suddenly re- 
 vived at the sight of a wild turkey, and resumed his jour- 
 ney in good spirits. We reached Belgrade and continued 
 our journey. Towards sunset we reached the shores of 
 the river, opposite the mouth of the Cumberland. On a 
 hill, the property of Major B., we found a house and a 
 solitary v/oman, wretchedly poor, but very kind. She as- 
 sured us that if we could not cross the river, she would 
 
5 6 Life of Audubon, 
 
 give us food and shelter for the night, but said that as 
 the moon was up, she could get us put over when her 
 skiff came back. Hungry and fatigued, we lay down on 
 the brown grass, waiting either a scanty meal, or the skiff 
 that was to convey us across the river. I had already 
 grated the corn for our supper, run down the chickens, 
 and made a fire, when a cry of ' Boat coming !' roused us 
 all. We crossed the river Ohio, and I again found my- 
 self in Kentucky, the native state of my two sons. We 
 then pursued our onward journey, but my son suffered 
 sorely from lameness. As we trudged along, nothing re- 
 markable occurred excepting that we saw a fine black 
 wolf, quite tame and gentle, the owner of which had re- 
 fused a hundred dollars for it. Mr. Rose, who was an 
 engineer, and a man of taste, played on the flageolet to 
 lighten our journey. At an orchard we filled our pockets 
 with October peaches, and when we came to Trade Water 
 river we found it low ; the acorns were already drifted on 
 its shallows, and the ducks were running about picking 
 them up. Passing a flat bottom, we saw a large buffalo 
 lick. 
 
 " We reached Highland Lick, where we stumbled on 
 a cabin, the door of which we thrust open, overturning a 
 chair that had been put behind it. On a dirty bed lay a 
 man, a table, with a journal, or perhaps ledger, before 
 him, a small cask in the corner near him, a brass pistol 
 on a nail over his head, and a long Spanish dagger by 
 his side. He arose and asked what we wanted ? * The 
 way to a better place, the road to Sugg's/ ' Follow the 
 road, and you will get to his house in about five miles.' 
 Separating from our companions, who were unable to 
 proceed at the same pace, we reached Green River, were 
 ferried across, and shortly afterwards reached Louisville." 
 
 "On the 25th October, 1822," writes Audubon, "I 
 entered Louisville with thirteen dollars in my pocket. 
 
Return to Louisville, gy 
 
 My son Victor I managed to get into the counting-house 
 of a friendj and I engaged to paint the interior of a steam- 
 er. I was advised to make a painting of the falls of the 
 Ohio, and commenced the work. 
 
 " November 9. Busy at work, when the weather per- 
 mitted, and resolved to paint one hundred views of Ameri- 
 can scenery. I shall not be surprised to find myself seat- 
 ed at the foot of Niagara." 
 
 While painting he mainly resided at Shipping Port, a 
 little village near Louisville. In his journey between 
 Green River and Louisville, he took conveyance in a cart, 
 the owner agreeing to drive the distance. In doing so, 
 the driver missed his route, and in a storm went far off 
 the way. The horses instinctively led the way to a log 
 hut, inhabited by a newly-married pair, who did their ut- 
 most to show befitting hospitality. In the midst of a hur- 
 ricane the host rode off to his father's, some miles dis- 
 tant, for a keg of cider ; the wife baked bread and roasted 
 fowls, and finally determined to sleep on the floor, so that 
 the strangers might have the comfort of a bed. 
 
 Of such hospitality Audubon speaks highly, and seems 
 to lament its decadence among residents in the more civ- 
 ilized states of the Union. Some notes upon the effects 
 of the floods which swell American rivers into inland seas 
 are also contained in the journal of his residence at Lou- 
 isville. Writing of the devastation created by overflows 
 of the Mississippi, he remarks : — 
 
 " The river rises until its banks are flooded and the 
 levees overflown. It then sweeps inland, over swamps, 
 prairie, and forest, until the country is a turbid ocean, 
 checkered by masses and strips of the forest, through 
 which the flood rolls lazily down cypress-shadowed 
 glades under the gloomy pines, and into unexplored re- 
 cesses, where the trailing vine and umbrageous foliage 
 dim the light of the noonday sun. In islets left amid the 
 
 6 
 
o8 . Life of Audubon, 
 
 waste, deer in thousands are driven ; and the squatter, 
 with his gun and canoe, finds on these refuges the game 
 which he slaughters remorselessly for the skins or feath- 
 ers that will sell. Floating on a raft made fast by a vine 
 rope to some stout trees, the farmer and his family pre- 
 serve their lives, while the stream bears away their hab- 
 itation, t^eir cut wood, their stores of grain, their stock, 
 and all their household goods. From creeks of the forest 
 other rafts float, laden with produce for New Orleans, and 
 guided by adventurous boatmen who have but vague 
 knowledge of their devious way, and to whom the naviga- 
 tion of an inland river is not less hazardous than a voy- 
 age on a stormy sea would be. 
 
 " I have floated on the Mississippi and Ohio when 
 thus swollen, and have in different places visited the sub- 
 merged lands of the interior, propelling a light canoe by 
 the aid of a paddle. In this manner I have traversed 
 immense portions of the country overflowed by the waters 
 of these rivers, and particularly whilst floating over the 
 Mississippi bottom lands I have been struck with awe at 
 the sight Little or no current is met with, unless when 
 the canoe passes over the bed of a bayou. All is silent 
 and melancholy, unless when the mournful bleating of 
 the hemmed-in deer reaches your ear, or the dismal 
 scream of an eagle or a heron is heard, or the foul bird 
 rises, disturbed by your approach, from the carcass on 
 which it was allaying its craving appetite. Bears, cou- 
 gars, lynxes, and all other quadrupeds that can ascend 
 the trees, are observed crouched among their top branch- 
 es ; hungry in the midst of abundance, although they see 
 floating around them the animals on which they usually 
 prey. They dare not venture to swim to them. Fa- 
 "'gued by the exertions which they have made in reach- 
 ing dry land, they will there stand the hunter's fire, as if 
 to die by a ball were better than to perish amid the waste 
 
Notes on Inundations. 99 
 
 of waters. On occasions like this, all these animals are 
 shot by hundreds. 
 
 "Opposite the city of Natchez, which stands on a 
 bluff bank of considerable elevation, the extent of inun- 
 dated land is immense, the greater portion of the tract 
 lying between the Mississippi and the Red River, which 
 is more than thirty miles, being under water." 
 
CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 4.udubon reaches Philadelphia — Introduction to Stdly the Painter — 
 Introduction to the Prince of Catiino — A Gigantic Engraver — 
 Meetings with Rosier and Joseph Mason — Visit to Mill Grove 
 and Fatland — A noble Gift — Audubon leaves Philadelphia 
 
 — Arrival at New York — Meeting with Joseph Bonaparte — 
 Leaves New York, and arrives at Albany — Visit to Niagara «— 
 A Voyage down the Ohio to the South — Arrival at Cincinnati 
 
 — Voyage to Bayou Sara — Meeting Mrs. Audubon — Turns 
 Dancing-master. 
 
 UDUBON reached Philadelphia on April 5, 
 1824. The journey to that city was undertaken 
 I as a desperate venture to obtain help to com- 
 plete his ornithological work, and he was soon satisfied 
 that the venture would be successful. 
 
 " I purchased a new suit of clothes, and dressed my- 
 self with extreme neatness ; after which I called upon Dr. 
 Mease, an old friend. I was received with kindness, 
 and was introduced to a gentleman named Earle, who ex- 
 hibited my drawings. I was also introduced to several 
 artists, who paid me pleasant attentions, and I also ob- 
 tained entrance to the Philadelphia Athenaeum and Phil- 
 osophical Library. I was fortunate in obtaining an in- 
 troduction to the portrait-painter. Sully, a man after my 
 own heart, and who showed me great kindnesses. He 
 was a beautiful singer, and an artist whose hints and ad- 
 vice were of great service to me. I afterwards saw Sully 
 in London, where he was painting a portrait of the Queen 
 of England, and had an opportunity of returning his kind- 
 nesses. . . 
 
^he Prince of Canino. loi 
 
 " April lo. I was introduced to the Prince Canine^ 
 son of Lucien, and nephew of Napoleon Buonaparte, who 
 examined my birds, and was complimentary in his praises. 
 He was at the time engaged on a volume of American 
 birds, which was soon to be published ; but this did not 
 prevent him from admiring another naturalist's work. 
 
 ^^ April 12. Met the prince at Dr. Mease's, ^and he 
 expressed a wish to examine my drawings more particu- 
 larly. I found him very gentlemanly. He called in his 
 carriage, took me to Peale, the artist, who was drawing 
 specimens of birds for his work ; but from want of knowl- 
 edge of the habits of birds in a wild state, he represented 
 them as if seated for a portrait, instead of with their own 
 lively animated ways when seeking their natural food or 
 pleasure. Other notable persons called to see my draw- 
 ings, and encouraged me with their remarks. The Prince 
 of Canino introduced me to the Academy of Arts and 
 Sciences, and pronounced my birds superb, and worthy 
 of a pupil of David. I formed the acquaintance of Le 
 Sueur, the zoologist and artist, who was greatly delighted 
 with my drawings. 
 
 " April 14. After breakfast met the prince, who called 
 with me on Mr. Lawson, the engraver of Mr. Wilson's 
 plates. This gentleman's figure nearly reached the roof, 
 his face was sympathetically long, and his tongue was so 
 long that we obtained no opportunity of speaking in his 
 company. Lawson said my drawings were too soft, too 
 much like oil paintings, and objected to engrave them. 
 Mr. Fairman we found to be an engraver better able to 
 appreciate my drawings, but he strongly advised me to go 
 to England, to have them engraved in a superior manner. 
 
 ^^ April 15. I obtained a room, and commenced work 
 in earnest. Prince Canino engaged me to superintend 
 his drawings intended for publication, but my terms be- 
 ing much dearer than Alexander Wilson's, I was asked to 
 
'^ 
 
 102 Life of Audubon. 
 
 discontinue this work. I had now determined to go to 
 Europe with my * treasures/ since I was assured nothing 
 so fine in the way of ornithological representations exist- 
 ed. I worked incessantly to complete my series of draw- 
 ings. On inquiry, I found Sully and Le Sueur made a 
 poor living by their brush. I had some pupils offered at 
 a dollar per lesson ; but I found the citizens unwilling to 
 pay for art, although they affected to patronize it. I ex- 
 hibited my drawings for a week, but found the show did 
 not pay, and so determined to remove myself I was in- 
 troduced to Mr. Ensel of Boston, an entomologist, then 
 engaged upon a work on American spiders. Those in- 
 terested in Wilson's book on the American birds advised 
 me not to publish, and not only cold water, but ice, was 
 poured upon my undertaking. Had a visit from my old 
 partner Rosier, who was still thirsting for money. ■ 
 
 " May 30. My dear friend Joseph Mason paid me a 
 delightful visit to-day. Showed all my drawings to Titian 
 Peel, who in return refused to let me see a new bird in 
 his possession. This little incident filled me with grief at 
 the narrow spirit of humanity, and makes me wish for the 
 solitude of the woods. 
 
 " yune 12. Giving lessons in drawing at thirty dollars 
 per month. A visit from Rembrandt Peale, who liked my 
 drawings, and asked me to his studio, where I saw his 
 portrait of General Washington, but preferred the style of 
 Sully. Had a visit from Mr. McMurtrie, the naturalist, 
 whose study of shells has made him famous. He ad- 
 vised me to take my drawings to England. I labor as- 
 siduously at oil painting. I have now been twenty- five 
 years pursuing my ornithological studies. Prince Canino 
 often visited me and admired my drawings. He advised 
 me to go to France. The French consul was still warmer 
 in his sympathies, and kind in his encouraging assur- 
 ances. 
 
Sully y the Painter. 103 
 
 " yune 26. Anxious to carry out my project of a visit 
 to Europe — anxious to see my wife before leaving — anx- 
 ious to see my old quarters of Mill Grove — anxious to get 
 more instruction from my kind master, Sully ; and alto- 
 gether unable to settle what course would be the most 
 preferable. I was rejoiced at the progress I made in oil 
 painting, and was overwhelmed with the goodness of 
 Sully, who would receive no recompense for his instruc- 
 tions, and gave me all the possible encouragement which 
 his affectionate heart could dictate. 
 
 " 3^uly 1 2. Visited by Mr. Gilpin, who thirty-three 
 years ago discovered the lead ore at Mill Grove. Called 
 on Dr. Harlan, an amiable physician and naturalist, and 
 a member of the Academy of Arts and Sciences. Gave 
 him some of my drawings, and he promised me letters to 
 the Royal Academy of France, and afterwards nominated 
 me for membership to the Academy in Philadelphia. He 
 was one of the best men I have met with in the city, and 
 the very best among the naturalists." 
 
 This was the beginning of a warm friendship between 
 these two good men, which increased with time, and last- 
 ed until the doctor died. At the same time Audubon 
 formed a friendship with Edward Harris, a young orni- 
 thologist of refinement, wealth, and education, who out- 
 lived Audubon, and extended prompt relief to his wife 
 during her distress after her husband's death. When the 
 naturalist was about to leave Philadelphia, Harris pur- 
 chased some of his drawings, and on being offered his 
 picture of the Falls of the Ohio, at a sacrifice, declined 
 the purchase, but as he was saying good-bye, squeezed a 
 hundred-dollar bill into his friend's hand, saying, " Mr. 
 Audubon, accept this from me ; men like you ought not 
 to want for money." 
 
 " I could only express my gratitude by insisting on 
 his receiving the drawings of all my French birds, which 
 
104 -^^f^ of Auduhon, 
 
 he did, and I was relie^^ed. This is the second instance 
 of disinterested generosity I have met with in my life, the 
 good Dr. Provan of Natchez being the . other. And now 
 I have in hand one hundred and thirty dollars to begin 
 my journey of three thousand miles. Before this I have 
 always thought I could work my way through the world 
 by my industry; but I see that I shall have to leave 
 here, as Wilson often did, without a cent in my pocket. 
 " yuly 26. Reuben Haines, a generous friend, invited 
 me to visit Mill Grove in his ,carriage, and I was impa- 
 tient until the day came. His wife, a beautiful woman 
 and her daughter, accompanied us. On the way my 
 heart swelled with many thoughts of what my life had 
 been there, of the scenes I had passed through since, 
 and of my condition now. As w-e entered the avenue 
 leading to Mill Grove, every step brought to my mind the 
 memory of past years, and I was bewildered by the rec- 
 ollections until we reached the door of the house, which 
 had once been the residence of my father as v/ell as my- 
 self The cordial welcome of Mr. Wetherill, the owner, 
 was extremely agreeable. After resting a few moments, 
 I abruptly took my hat and ran wildly towards the woods, 
 to the grotto where I first heard from my wife the ac- 
 knowledgment that she was not indifferent to me. It 
 had been torn down, and some stones carted away ; but 
 raising my eyes towards heaven, I repeated the promise 
 we had mutually made. We dined at Mill Grove, and 
 as I entered the parlor I stood motionless for a moment 
 on the spot where my wife and myself were for ever join- 
 ed. Everybody was kind to me, and invited me to come 
 to the Grove whenever I visited Pennsylvania, and I re- 
 turned full of delight. Gave Mr. Haines my portrait, 
 drawn by myself, on condition that he should have it 
 copied in case of my death before making another, and 
 send it to my wife. 
 
Letters of Introduction, 105 
 
 " y///y 31. Engaged in preparations for leaving Phila 
 delphia, where I received many letters of introduction. 
 Among them are the following : — 
 
 '* * Gilbert Stuart, Esq., 
 "'Dear Sir, 
 
 "*It is hardly necessary for Mr. Audubon to take 
 credentials for an introduction to you ; the inspection of 
 one of his drawings of birds will be sufficient recommend- 
 ation to your notice. Yet an acquaintance with him of 
 several months enables me to speak of him as a man, and 
 I would consent to forfeit all claims to discernment of 
 character if he does not merit your esteem. 
 
 " * Sincerely your friend, 
 
 "^Thomas Sully.'" 
 
 " ^ Washington Alston, Esq., 
 "'Dear Sir, • 
 
 " * Mr. Audubon will call on you with this, and will be 
 pleased to show you specimens of his drawings in orni- 
 thology. He is engaged in preparing a work on this sub- 
 ject for publication, which for copiousness and talent 
 bids fair in my estimation to surpass all that has yet been 
 done, at least in this country. I have great esteem for 
 the character of Mr. Audubon, and am pleased to make 
 him known to you, though I should hesitate to give a let- 
 ter of introduction to you in favor of an ordinary person, 
 knowing that your time is precious ; but in the present 
 instance I run no risk of intrusion. I shall always re- 
 member you with affectionate regard. 
 
 *'■ * Sincerely your friend, 
 
 "'Thomas Sully.'" 
 
 A letter of similar import was given by Mr. Sully to 
 Colonel Trumbull. 
 
 ^^ August I, 1824. I left Philadelphia for New York 
 yesterday at five o'clock, in good health, free from debt 
 5* 
 
io6 Life of Audubon. 
 
 and free from anxiety about the future. On arriving at 
 New York a cart took our luggage to our lodgings, and 
 about one hundred passengers perched about us, as I 
 have seen chimney-swallows perched on a roof before 
 their morning flight I felt happy and comfortable in 
 the city, and sauntered about admiring its beautiful 
 streets and landings. I found most of the parties to 
 whom I carried letters of introduction absent, and I 
 already began to regret leaving Philadelphia so hur- 
 riedly. I began to consider whether I should visit 
 Albany or Boston, in the hope of improving my financial 
 position. 
 
 ^^ August 2. Met Joseph Buonaparte, and his two 
 daughters, and his nephew, Charles, Prince of Canino. 
 Visited the museum at New York, and found the speci- 
 mens of stuifed birds set up in unnatural and constrained 
 attitudes. This appears to be the universal practice, and 
 the world owes to me the adoption of the plan of drawing 
 from animated nature. Wilson is the only one who has 
 in any tolerable degree adopted my plan. 
 
 ^^ August 3. Called on Vanderlyn, and was kindly 
 received by him. Examined his pictures with pleasure, 
 and saw the medal given him by Napoleon, but was not 
 impressed with the idea that he was a great painter. 
 
 " August 4. Called on Dr. Mitchell with my letters 
 of introduction, who gave me a kind letter to his friend 
 Dr. Barnes, explaining that I wished to show my draw- 
 ings to the members of the Lyceum, and become a mem- 
 ber of that institution. 
 
 " August 9. I have been making inquiries regarding 
 the publication of my drawings in New York ; but find 
 that there is little prospect of the undertaking being 
 favorably received. I have reason to suspect that 
 unfriendly communications have been sent to the pub- 
 lishers from Philadelphia, by parties interested in Wilson's 
 
Sits for a Portrait of Jackson, 107 
 
 ^rolume, and who have represented that my drawings have 
 not been wholly done by myself. Full of despair, I look 
 to Europe as my only hope. AVith my friend Br. De Kay 
 I visited the Lyceum, and my portfolio v/as examined by 
 the members of the institute, among whom I felt awkward 
 and uncomfortable. After living among such people I 
 feel clouded and depressed ; remember that I have done 
 nothing, and fear I may die unknown. I feel I am strange 
 to all but the birds of America. In a few days I shall be 
 in the woods and quite forgotten. 
 
 ^'August 10. My spirits low, and I long for the 
 woods again ; but the prospect of becoming known 
 prompts me to remain another day. Met the artist Van- 
 derlyn, who asked me to give him a sitting for a portrait 
 of General Jackson, since my figure considerably resem- 
 bled that of the General, more than any he had ever 
 seen. I likewise sketched my landlady and child, and 
 filled my time. 
 
 ''''August 15. Sailed up the Hudson for Albany with 
 three hundred and seventy-five passengers, twenty-three 
 of whom were composed of a delegation of Indians from 
 six tribes, who were returning to the West from Washing- 
 ton. Arrived at Albany, but found both De Witt Clinton 
 and Dr. Beck absent. Money getting scarce, I abandoned 
 the idea of visiting Boston, but determined to see Niagara. 
 Engaged a passage at seven dollars on a canal-boat for 
 Rochester, distant two hundred and sixty-eight miles. 
 No incident happened to me worth recording, only that 
 the passengers were doubtful whether or not I was a 
 government officer, commissioner, or spy. I obtained 
 some new birds by the way, and in six days I arrived at 
 Rochester. . 
 
 '"''Rochester, August 22. Five years ago there were 
 but few buildings here, and the population is now five 
 thousand; the banks of the river are lined with mills 
 
io8 Life of Audubon. 
 
 and factories. The beautiful falls of the Genesee river, 
 about eighty feet high and four times as broad, I have 
 visited, and have made a slight sketch of them. One and 
 a half miles below is another fall of the same height, but 
 the water is niuch more broken in its descent. 
 
 ^^ August 24. Took passage for Buffalo, arrived safely, 
 and passed a sleepless night, as most of my nights have 
 been since I began my wanderings. Left next morning 
 for the Falls of Niagara ; the country is poor^ the soil 
 stiff white clay, and the people are lank and sallow. 
 Arrived at the hotel, found but few visitors, recorded my 
 name, and wrote under it, ^ who, like Wilson, will ramble, 
 but never, like that great man, die under the lash of a 
 bookseller.' 
 
 " All trembling I reached the Falls of Niagara, and oh, 
 what a scene ! my blood shudders still, although I am not 
 a coward, at the grandeur of the Creator's power ; and I 
 gazed motionless on this new display of the irresistible 
 force of one of His elements. The falls, the rainbow, 
 the rapids, and the surroundings all unite to strike the 
 senses with awe ; they defy description with pen or pen- 
 cil ; and a view satisfied me that Niagara never had been 
 and never will be painted. I moved towards the rapids, 
 over which there is a bridge to Goat island, that I would 
 like to have crossed, to look on the water which was 
 rushing with indescribable swiftness below, but was 
 deterred from the low state of my funds. Walking along 
 the edge of the stream for a few hundred yards, the full 
 effect of the whole grand rush of the water was before 
 me. The color of the water was a verdigris green, and 
 contrasted remarkably with the falling torrent. The mist 
 of the spray mounted to the clouds, while the roaring 
 below sounded like constant heavy thunder, making me 
 think at times that the earth was shaking also. 
 
 " From this point I could see three-quarters of a mile 
 
Falls of Niagara. 109 
 
 down the river, which appeared quite cahn. I descended 
 a flight of about seventy steps, and walked and crouched 
 on my hams along a rugged, slippery path to the edge of 
 the river, where a man and skiff are always waiting to 
 take visitors to the opposite shore. I approached as 
 near the falling water as I could, without losing sight of 
 the objects behind me. In a few moments my clothes 
 were wet. I retired a few hundred yards to admire two 
 beautiful rainbows, which seemed to surround me, and 
 also looked as if spanning obliquely from the American 
 to the Canadian shore. Visitors can walk under the 
 falling sheet of water, and see through it, while at their 
 feet are thousands of eels lying side by side, trying vainly 
 to ascend the torrent. 
 
 ,. " I afterwards strolled through the village to find 
 some bread and milk, and ate a good dinner for twelve 
 cents. Went to bed at night thinking of Franklin eating 
 his roll in the streets of Philadelphia, of Goldsmith trav- 
 elling by the help of his musical powers, and of other 
 great men who had worked their way through hardships 
 and difficulties to fame, and fell asleep, hoping, by perse- 
 vering industry, to make a name for myself among my 
 countrymen. 
 
 ^^ Buffalo, August 25. This village was utterly de- 
 stroyed by fire in the war of eighteen hundred and 
 twelve, but now has about two hundred houses, a bank, 
 and daily mail. It is now filled with Indians, who have 
 com6 here to receive their annuity from the government. 
 The chief Red Jacket is a noble-looking man ; another, 
 called the Devil's Ramrod, has a savage look. Took a 
 deck-passage on board a schooner bound to Erie; Penn- 
 sylvania ; fare, one dollar and fifty cents, to furnish my 
 own bed and provisions ; my buffalo-robe and blanket 
 served for the former. The captain invited me to sleep 
 in the cabin, but I declined, as I never encroach where I 
 
1 10 Life of Audubon. 
 
 have no right. The sky was serene, and I threw myself 
 on the deck contemplating the unfathomable immensity 
 above me, and contrasting the comforts which only ten 
 days before I was enjoying with my present condition. 
 Even the sailors, ignorant of my name, look on me as a 
 poor devil not able to pay for a cabin passage. 
 
 "In our voyage we had safely run the distance to 
 Presque Isle Harbor, but could not pass the bar on 
 account of a violent gale. The anchor was dropped, 
 and we remained on board during the night. How long ^ 
 we might have remained at anchor I cannot tell, had not \ 
 Captain Judd, of the United States Navy, then probably ? 
 commandant at Presque Isle, sent a gig with six men to J 
 our relief. It was on the 29th of August, 1824, and 
 never shall I forget that morning. My drawings were 
 put into the boat with the greatest care. We shifted into 
 it, and seated ourselves according to direction. Our 
 brave fellows pulled hard, and every moment brought us 
 nearer to the American shore ; I leaped upon it with 
 elated heart My drawings were safely landed, and for 
 anything else I cared little at the momc.it. After a 
 humble meal of bread and milk, a companion and myself , 
 settled to proceed upon our journey. Our luggage was 
 rather heavy, so we hired a cart to take it to Meadville, 
 for which we offered five dollars. This sum was accepted, 
 and we set off. 
 
 " The country through which we passed might have 
 proved favorable to our pursuits, had it not rained nearly 
 the whole day. At night we alighted, and put up at a 
 house belonging to our conductor's father. It was Sun- 
 day night. The good folks had not yet returned from a 
 distant church, the grandmother of our driver being the 
 only individual about the premises. We found her a 
 cheerful dame, who bestirred herself actively, got up a 
 blazing fire to dry our wet clothes, and put bread and 
 
Visits Meadville, ill 
 
 milk on the table. We asked for a place in which to 
 rest, and were shown into a room in which were several 
 beds. My companion and myself were soon in bed and 
 asleep ; but our slumbers were broken by a light, which 
 ; we found to be carried by three young damsels, who, 
 having observed where we lay, blew it out and got into a 
 bed opposite ours. As we had not spoken, the girls 
 supposed we were sound asleep, and we heard them say 
 how delighted they would be to have their portraits 
 taken as well as their grandmother, whose likeness I 
 : had promised to draw. Day dawned, and as we were 
 dressing we discovered the girls had dressed in silence 
 V and left us before we had awakened. No sooner had I 
 : offered to draw the portraits of the girls than they dis- 
 ''■ appeared, and soon returned in their Sunday clothes. 
 The black chalk was at work in a few minutes, to their 
 great delight ; and while the flavor of the breakfast 
 reached my sensitive nose, I worked with redoubled 
 ardor. The sketches were soon finished, and the break- 
 ' fast over. I played a few airs on my flageolet while our 
 guide was putting the horses to the cart, and by ten 
 o'clock we were once more on the road to Meadville. 
 ' >- "The country was covered with heavy timber, princi- 
 pally evergreens ; the pines and cucumber trees, loaded 
 with brilliant fruits, and the spruce, throwing a shade 
 over the land, in good keeping with the picture. The 
 ^ lateness of the crops alone struck us as unpleasant. At 
 length we came in sight of French Creek, and soon after 
 " we reached Meadville. Here we paid the five dollars 
 ' promised to our conductor, who instantly faced about, 
 '- and applying the whip to his nags, bade us adieu. 
 ' ' • " We had now only one dollar and fifty cents. No 
 < time was to be lost We put our luggage and ourselves 
 - under the roof of a tavern-keeper, known by the name 
 • of J. F. Smith, at the sign of the * Travellers' Rest,' and 
 
112 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 soon after took a walk to survey the little village thai 
 was to be laid under contribution for our support. Put- 
 ting my portfolio under my arm, and a few good creden- 
 tials in my pocket, I walked up the main street, looking 
 to the right and left, examining the different heads which 
 occurred, until I fixed my eyes on a gentleman in a store 
 who looked as if he might want a sketch. I begged him 
 CO allow me to sit down. This granted, I remained per- 
 fectly silent, and he soon asked me what was in that 
 * portfolio.' The words sounded well, and without wait- 
 ing another instant I opened it to his view. He was a 
 Hollander, who complimented me on the execution of the 
 drawings of birds and flowers in my portfolio. Showing 
 him a sketch of the best friend I have in the world at 
 present, I naked him if he would like one in the same 
 style of liimself. He not only answered in the affirma- 
 tive, but assured me that he would exert himself in pro- 
 curing as many more customers as he could. I thanked 
 him, and returned to the ^ Travellers* Rest ' with a hope 
 that to-morrow might prove propitious. Supper was 
 ready, and we began our meal. I was looked on as a 
 missionary priest, on account of my hair, which in those 
 days flowed loosely on my shoulders. I was asked to 
 say grace, which I did with a fervent spirit. Next morn- 
 ing I visited the merchant, and succeeded in making a 
 sketch of him that pleasiid him highly. While working 
 at him the room became crowded with the village aris- 
 tocracy. Some laughed, while others expressed then: 
 wonder, but my work went on. My sitter invited me to 
 spend the evening with him, which I did, and joined him 
 in some music on the flute and violin. I returned to my 
 companion with great pleasure ; and you may judge how 
 much that pleasure was increased when I found that he 
 also had made two sketches. Having written a page or 
 two of our journals, we retired to rest. With our pockets 
 
Thought on Religion. 113 
 
 replenished we soon afterwards left for Pittsburg, where 
 we arrived in safety. 
 
 " September 7. I was more politely received than on 
 brmer occasions at Pittsburg, which I found was due to 
 the reception I had met with in Philadelphia, and some 
 ramors of which had reached the West. 
 
 " October 9. Spent one month at Pittsburg scouring 
 the country for birds, and continuing my drawings. Made 
 the acquaintance of the Rev. John H. Hopkins. Found 
 him an amiable man, and attended some of his ministra- 
 tions. I met a Mr. Baldwin, who volunteered to subscribe 
 for my book of birds — the three hundredth name given 
 to me. In the course of my intimacy with the Rev. Mr. 
 Hopkins I was brought to think more than I usually did 
 of religious matters; but I confess I never think of 
 churches without feeling sick at heart at the sham and 
 show of some of their professors. To repay evils with 
 kindness is the religion I was taught to practise, and this 
 will for ever be my rule. 
 
 " October 24. For some days I have been meditating 
 on purchasing a skiff and going down the Ohio and Mis- 
 sissippi in it, as I had done years before. I purchased a 
 boat, and filling it with provisions, bade my friends adieu, 
 and started in company with an artist, a doctor, and an 
 Irishman. I hauled up the boat at night and slept 
 m it. 
 
 " October 29. Reached Wheeling after suffering much 
 from wet and rain. The artist and doctor were disgusted 
 with boating, and left. The Irishman was tired of his 
 bargain. My finances were very low. I tried to sell 
 some lithographs of General Lafayette, but did not suc- 
 ceed. I sold my skiff, and took passage in a keel-boat 
 to Cincinnati, with a lot of passengers, army officers, and 
 others. I arrived at Cincinnati, visited my old house, 
 and met many old friends in that city. 
 
114 Life of Audubon, 
 
 " While at Cincinnati I was beset by claims for the 
 payment of articles which years before had been ordered 
 for the Museum, but from which I got no benefit. With- 
 out money or the means of making it, I applied to Messrs.* 
 Keating and Bell for the loan of fifteen dollars, but had 
 not the courage to do so until I had walked past their 
 house several times, unable to make up my mind how to 
 ask the favor. I got the loan cheerfully, and took a 
 deck-passage to Louisville. I was allowed to take my 
 meals in the cabin, and at night slept among some 
 shavings I managed to scrape together. The spirit of 
 contentment which I now feel is strange, it borders on 
 the sublime ; and, enthusiast or lunatic, as some of my 
 relatives will have me, I am glad to possess such a 
 spirit. 
 
 ^'' Louisville^ li'ovember 20. Took lodgings at the 
 house of a person to whom I had given lessons, and 
 hastened to Shippingport to see my son Victor. Re- 
 ceived a letter from General Jackson, with an introduc- 
 tion to the Governor of Florida. I discover that my 
 friends think only of my apparel, and those upon whom 
 I have conferred acts of kindness prefer to remind me 
 of my errors. I decide to go down the Mississippi to 
 my old home of Bayou Sara, and there open a school, 
 with the profits of which to complete my ornithological 
 studies. Engage a passage for eight dollars. 
 
 " I arrived at Bayou Sara with rent and wasted clothes 
 and uncut hair, and altogether looking like the W^ander- 
 ing Jew. 
 
 " The steamer which brought me was on her way to 
 New Orleans, and I was put ashore in a small boat about 
 mid ight, and left to grope my way on a dark, rainy, and 
 sultry night to the village, about one mile distant. That 
 aw ;i scourge the yellow fever prevailed, and was taking 
 off he citizens with greater rapidity than had ever before 
 
Return to Bayou Sara, 115 
 
 been known. When I arrived, the desolation was so great 
 that one large hotel was deserted, and I walked in, find- 
 ing the doors all open, and the furniture in the house, but 
 not a living person. The inmates had all gone to the 
 pine woods. I walked to the post-office, roused the post- 
 master, and learned to my joy that my wife and son were 
 well at Mrs. Percy's. He had no accommodatien for me, 
 but recommended me to a tavern where I might find a 
 bed. The atmosphere was calm, heavy, and suffocating, 
 and it seemed to me as if I were breathing death while 
 hunting for this tavern ; finding it, the landlord told me 
 he had not a spare bed, but mentioned a German at the 
 end of the village who might take me in ; I walked over 
 there, and was kindly received. The German was a man 
 of cultivation and taste, and a lover of natural science, 
 and had collected a variety of interesting objects. He 
 gave me some refreshment, and offered me a horse to 
 ride to Mrs. Percy's. The horse was soon at the door, 
 and with many thanks I bade him adieu. My anxiety to 
 reach my beloved wife and child was so great that I 
 resolved to make a straight course through the woods, 
 which I thought I knew thoroughly, and hardly caring 
 where I should cross the bayou. In less than two hours 
 I reached its shores, but the horse refused to enter the 
 water, and snorting suddenly, turned and made off 
 through the woods, as if desirous of crossing at some 
 other place, and when he reached the shore again walked 
 in, and crossed me safely to the other side. The sky 
 was overcast, and the mosquitoes plentiful ; but T thought 
 I recognized the spot where I had watched the habits of 
 a wild cat, or a deer, as the clouds broke away, and the 
 stars now and then peeped through to help me make my 
 way through the gloomy forests. But in this I was mis- 
 taken, for when day dawned I found myself in woods 
 which were unknown to me. However, I chanced to 
 
ii6 Life of Audubon. 
 
 meet a black man, who told me where I was, and that I 
 had passed Mrs. Percy's plantation two miles. Turning 
 my horse's head, and putting spurs to him, a brisk gallop 
 soon brought me to the house. It was early, but I found 
 my beloved wife up and engaged in giving a lesson to her 
 pupils, and, holding and kissing her, I was once more 
 happy, and all my toils and trials were forgotten. 
 
 " December i. After a few days' rest I began to think 
 of the future, and to look about to see what I could do 
 to hasten the publication of my drawings. My wife was 
 receiving a large income, — ^nearly three thousand dollars 
 a year, — from her industry and talents, which she gener- 
 ously offered me to help forward their publication ; and I 
 resolved on a new effort to increase the amount by my 
 own energy and labor. Numerous pupils desired les- 
 sons in music, French, and drawing. From Woodville 
 I received a special invitation to teach dancing, and a 
 class of sixty was soon organized. I went to begin my 
 duties, dressed myself at the hotel, and with my fiddle 
 imder my arm entered the ball-room. I found my 
 music highly appreciated, and immediately commenced 
 proceedings. 
 
 " I placed all the gentlemen in a line reaching across 
 the hall, thinking to give the young ladies time to com- 
 pose themselves and get ready when they were called. 
 How I toiled before I could get one graceful step or 
 motion ! I broke my bow and nearly my violin in my 
 excitement and impatience ! The gentlemen were soon 
 fatigued. The ladies were next placed in the same order 
 and made to walk the steps ; and then came the trial for 
 both parties to proceed at the same time, while I pushed 
 one here and another there, and was all the while singing 
 myself, to assist their movements. Many of the parents 
 were present, and were delighted. After this first lesson 
 was over I was requested to dance to my own music^ which 
 
A novel Speculation, 117 
 
 I did until the whole room came down in thunders of 
 applause, in clapping of hands and shouting, which put 
 an end to my first lesson and to an amusing comedy- 
 Lessons in fencing followed to the young gentlemen, and 
 I went to bed extremely fatigued. 
 
 " The dancing speculation fetched two thousand dol- 
 lars ; and with this capital and my wife's savings I was 
 now able to foresee a successful issue to my great ornitho- 
 logical work." 
 
 The remainder of Audubon's residence at Bayou Sara 
 was taken up with preparations for his intended voyage 
 to England, — where he expected to find the fame given 
 to all heroes so tardily in their own countries. 
 
 tit: 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Audubon Sails from A^ew Orleans for Eftgland on board the Dclos-^ 
 Incidents of the ' Voyage — A nival at Liverpool — Liverpool 
 Friends — Drawings Exhibited by desire in the Royal Institution 
 — Visit to Manchester — Opening of Subscriptio7i-book for great 
 Work — Edinbu7gh — Drawings exhibited at the Royal Institu- 
 tion. 
 
 PRIL 26th, 1826. I left my wife and son at 
 Bayou Sara for New Orleans on my way to 
 England, and engaged a passage to Liverpool 
 on board the ship Delos. The vessel did not sail as 
 soon as expected, and I was necessarily delayed at New 
 Orleans. I obtained several letters of introduction from 
 persons in New Orleans to friends in England, and one 
 from Governor Johnson of Louisiana with the seal of 
 the State on it, which saved me the trouble of getting a 
 passport. 
 
 " On the 19th of May the steam-tug Hercules towed 
 the Delos out to sea, and with light winds we pursued 
 our voyage. The time was pleasantly spent shooting 
 birds and catching dolphins and sharks, from which I 
 made frequent sketches. 
 
 ^^ May 27. Had Mother Carey's chickens following 
 us, and desired to get one of the beautiful birds as they 
 swept past, pattering the water with their feet, and 
 returning after long ranges for scraps of oil and fat 
 floated astern. I dropped one with my gun, and the 
 captain kindly ordered a boat to be lowered to recover 
 the shot bird. I examined the bird and found it to be a 
 female. 
 
Sails for England. 115 
 
 ^^ May ^1, Saw a small vessel making towards us; 
 she was a suspicious-looking craft, and our crew had 
 pardonable fears she might prove to be a pirate. A 
 young fat alligator I had with me died to-day, from being 
 placed in salt instead of fresh water — the former being 
 poisonous to the animal. 
 
 " Much troubled with anxious thoughts about the pur- 
 port and expectations of my voyage to England. I had 
 obtained many favorable letters of introduction to friends 
 in England, which I believed would prove of material 
 assistance; and among these was the following : — 
 
 *' 'New Orleans, May 16, 1826. 
 
 "* Dear Sir, 
 
 " * I have ventured to put in the hands of Mr. John J. 
 Audubon, a gentleman of highly respectable scientific ac- 
 quirements, these introductory lines to you, under the 
 persuasion that his acquaintance cannot fail to be one of 
 extreme interest to you. Mr. Audubon is a native of the 
 United States, and has spent more than twenty years in 
 all parts of them, devoting most of his time to the study 
 of ornithology. He carries with him a collection of over 
 four hundred drawings, which far surpass anything of the 
 kind I have yet seen, and afford the best evidence of his 
 skill, and the perfection to which he has carried his re- 
 searches. His object is to find a purchaser or a publish- 
 er for them, and if you can aid him in this, and introduce 
 him either in person or by letter to men of distinction in 
 arts and sciences, you will confer much of a favor on me. 
 He has a crowd of letters from Mr. Clay, De Witt Clinton, 
 and others for England, which will do much for him ; but 
 your introduction to Mr. Roscoe and others may do 
 more. His collection of ornithological drawings would 
 prove a most valuable acquisition to any museum, or any 
 moneyed patron of the arts, and, I should think, convey a 
 
I20 Life of Audubon. 
 
 far better idea of American birds than all the stuffed 
 birds of all the museums put together. 
 . . " * Permit me likewise to recommend Mr. Audubon to 
 your hospitable attentions ; the respectability of his life 
 and his family connections entitle him to the good wishes 
 of any gentleman, and you will derive much gratification 
 Srom his conversation. 
 
 "* I am, dear Sir, , 
 
 "* With sincere regard, 
 
 "* Most truly yours, 
 
 ' .... "* Vincent NoLTE. 
 
 *' * To Richard Rathbone, Esq., 
 "* Liverpool'" 
 
 " June 23. Near Cape Florida. This morning we 
 entered the Atlantic Ocean from the Florida Straits with 
 a fair wind. The land birds have left us. I leave 
 America and my wife and children to visit England and 
 Europe and publish my * Birds of America.* -; 
 
 " In the Gulf of Mexico our vessel was becalmed for 
 many days ; the tedium of which we beguiled by catch- 
 ing fish and watching their habits. Among the others 
 caught we were fortunate in securing several beautifiil 
 dolphins. Dolphins move in shoals varying from four or 
 five to twenty or more, hunting in packs in the waters as 
 wolves pursue their prey on land. The object of their 
 pursuit is generally the flying-fish, now and then the 
 bonita ; and when nothing better can be had they will 
 follow the little rudder-fish and seize it immediately under 
 the stern of the ship. The flying-fishes, after ha\ang es- 
 caped for awhile by dint of their great velocity, on being 
 again approached by the dolphins, emerge from the water, 
 and spreading their broad wing-like fins, sail through the 
 air and disperse in all directions, like a covey of timid 
 partridges before the rapacious falcon. Some pursue a 
 direct course, others diverge on either side, but in a short 
 
Dolphin Fishing. I2i 
 
 time they all drop into their natural element. While 
 they are travelling in the air their keen and hungry pur 
 suer, like a greyhound, follows in their wake, and per- 
 forming a succession of leaps many feet in extent, rapidly 
 gains upon the quarry, which is often seized just ics it 
 falls into the sea. Dolphins manifest a ver}' remarkable 
 sympathy with each other. The moment one of them is 
 hooked or grained, as sailors technically name their man- 
 ner of harpooning, those in company make up to it, and 
 remain around until the unfortunate fish is pulled on 
 board, when they generally move off together, seldom 
 biting at anything thrown out to them. This, however, 
 is the case only with the larger individuals, which keep 
 apart from the young, in the same manner as is observed 
 in several species of birds; for when the smaller dol- 
 phins are in large shoals they all remain under the bows 
 of the ship, and bite in succession at any sort of line, as 
 if determined to see what has become of their lost com- 
 panions. The dolphins caught in the Gulf of Mexico 
 during our voyage were suspected to be poisonous ; and 
 to ascertain whether this was really the case, our cook, 
 who was an African negro, never boiled or fried one with- 
 out placing beside it a dollar. If the silver was not tar- 
 nished by the time the dolphin was ready for the table, 
 the fish was presented to the passengers with the as- 
 surance that it was perfectly good. But as not a single 
 individual of the hundred that we caught had the prop- 
 erty of converting silver into copper, I suspect that our 
 African sage was no magician. One morning, that of 
 the 22nd of June, the weather sultry, I was surprised, on 
 getting out of my hammock, which was slung on deck, to 
 find the water all round swarming with dolphins, which 
 were sporting in great glee. The sailors assured me that 
 this was a certain * token of wind,* and, as they watched 
 the movement of the fishes, added, * ay, and a fair breeze 
 6 
 
122 Life of Audubon, 
 
 too.* I caught several dolphins in the course of an hour, 
 after which scarcely any remained about the ship. Not a 
 breath of air came to our relief all that day, nor even the 
 
 next. 
 
 " The best bait for the dolphin is a long strip of shark's 
 flesh. I think it generally prefers it to the semblance of 
 a flying-fish, which, indeed, it does not often seize unless 
 when the ship is under weigh, and it is made to rise to 
 the surface. There are times, however, when hunger and 
 the absence of their usual food will induce the dolphins 
 to dash at any sort of bait ; and I have seen some caught 
 by means of a piece of white linen fastened to a hook. 
 Their appetite is as keen as that of the vulture \ and 
 whenever a good opportunity occurs they gorge them- 
 selves to such a degree that they become an easy prey to 
 their enemies, the balaconda and the bottle-nosed porpoise. 
 One that had been brained while lazily swimming imme- 
 diately under the stern of our ship was found to have its 
 stomach completely crammed with flying-fish, all regular- 
 ly disposed side by side, with their tails downwards, 
 which suggests that the dolphin swallows its prey tail fore- 
 most. They looked, in fact, like so many salted herrings 
 packed in a box, and were, to the number of twenty-two, 
 each six and seven inches in length. The usual length 
 of the dolphin caught in the Gulf of Mexico is about 
 three feet, and I saw none that exceeded four feet two 
 inches. The weight of one of the latter size was only 
 eighteen pounds, for this fish is extremely narrow in 
 proportion to its length, although rather deep in its 
 form. AVhen just caught, the upper fin, which reaches 
 from the forehead to within a short distance of the tail, 
 is of a fine dark blue. The upper part of the body in 
 its whole length is azure, and the lower parts are of a 
 golden hue, mottled irregularly with deep blue spots. 
 
 " One day several small birds, after alighting on the 
 
. Shark Fishing, ^ 123 
 
 spars, betook themselves to the deck. One of them, a 
 female rice bunting, drew our attention more particularly, 
 for, a few moments after her arrival, there came down, as 
 if it were in her wake, a beautiful peregrine falcon. The 
 plunderer hovered about for awhile, then stationed him- 
 self on the end of one of the yard-arms, and suddenly 
 pouncing on the little gleaner of the meadows, clutched 
 her and carried her off in exultation. I was astonished 
 to see the falcon feeding on the finch while on the wing 
 with the same ease as the Mississippi kite shows while 
 devouring, high in air, a red-throated lizard, swept from 
 one of the trees of the Louisiana woods. 
 
 " One afternoon we caught two sharks. In one of 
 them we found ten young ones alive, and quite capable 
 of swimming, as we proved by experiment ; for on casting 
 one of them into the sea it immediately made off, as if it 
 had been accustomed to shift for itself. Of another that 
 had been cut in two, the head half swam out of our sight. 
 The rest were cut in pieces, as was the old shark, as bait 
 for the dolphins, which, I have already said, are fond of 
 such food. Our captain, who was much intent on amus- 
 ing me, informed me that the rudder-fishes were plentiful 
 astern, and immediately set to dressing hooks for the pur- 
 pose of catching them. There v/as now some air above 
 us, the sails aloft filled, the ship moved through the 
 water, and the captain and I repaired to the cabin win- 
 dow. I was furnished with a fine hook, a thread line, 
 and some small bits of bacon, as was the captain, and we 
 dropped our bait among the myriads of delicate little 
 fishes below. Up they came one after another, so fast in 
 succession that, according to my journal, we caught three 
 hundred and seventy in about two hours ! What a mess ! 
 and how delicious when roasted ! if ever I am again be- 
 calmed in the Gulf of Mexico, I shall not forget the rud- 
 der-fish. The little things scarcely measured three inches 
 
124 Life of Audubon. 
 
 in length ; they were thin and deep in form, and afforded 
 excellent eating. It was curious to see them keep to the 
 lee of the rudder in a compact body, and so voracious 
 were they, that they actually leaped out of the water at 
 the sight of the bait. But the very instant that the ship 
 became still they dispersed around her sides, and would 
 no longer bite. After drifting along the Florida coast a 
 stiff breeze rose, and sweeping us into the Atlantic, sent 
 us far upon our favorable voyage. 
 
 " July 20, 1826. Landed from the Delos at Liverpool, 
 and took lodgings at the Commercial Hotel. Called at 
 the counting-house of Gordon and Forstall, and went to 
 deliver my letters to Mr. Rathbone, who was absent when 
 I called ; but he forwarded a polite note, in which he in- 
 vited me to dine and meet Mr. Roscoe. 
 
 " July 24. Called for Mr. Rathbone at his counting- 
 house, and was kindly received, and dined at his house 
 in Duke Street. Was introduced to his friend Mr. Ros- 
 coe, and his son-in-law, Mr. Philemon L. Baring. Mr. 
 Roscoe invited me to his country-house next day, and we 
 visited the Botanical Gardens. Ransacked the city for 
 pastils to make a drawing for Mrs. Rathbone. 
 
 " My drawings are to be exhibited at the Liverpool 
 Exhibition. Mr. Roscoe promised to introduce me to 
 Lord Stanley, who, he says, is rather shy. Great anxiety 
 about the success of my exhibition, which has proved a 
 complete success. 
 
 ^^ Sunday, July 30. Went to church, and saw a pic- 
 ture of Christ Curing the Blind Man, and listened to the 
 singing of the blind musiciiins. 
 
 ^^ August 5. I have met Lord Stanley, and found 
 him a frank, agreeable man. Tall, broad-boned, well- 
 formed, he reminded me of Sully the painter. He said, 
 * Sir, I am glad to see you.' He pointed out one defect 
 in my drawings, for which I thanked him, but he admired 
 
Arrival at Liverpool, 125 
 
 them generally. He spent five hours in examining my 
 collection, and said, * This work is unique, and deserves 
 the patronage of the Crown.' He invited me many 
 times to come and see him at his town house in Gros- 
 venor Square." 
 
 Under this date, Audubon writes to his wife : " I am 
 cherished by the most notable people in and around 
 Liverpool, and have obtained letters of introduction to 
 Baron Humboldt, Sir Walter Scott, Sir Humphry Davy, 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence, Hannah More, Miss Edgeworth, 
 and your distinguished cousin, Robert Bakewell." 
 
 ^^ August 9. By the persuasion of friends, the entrance- 
 fee to my collection of drawings is to be charged at one 
 shilling. Three and four pounds per day promised well 
 for the success of this proposal. Painted a wild turkey, 
 full size, for the Liverpool Royal Institution. Busy at 
 work painting in my usual toilet, with bare neck and 
 bare arms. Dr. Traill and Mr. Rathbone, while looking 
 on, were astonished at the speed of my work. 
 
 "At Liverpool I did the portraits of various friends 
 desirous of obtaining specimens of my drawing, and Mr. 
 Rathbone suggested that I ought to do a large picture, in 
 order that the public might have an opportunity of judg- 
 ing of my particular talents. From various kind friends 
 I received letters of introduction to many distinguished 
 persons. Mr. Roscoe, in particular, favored me with an 
 extremely kind letter to Miss Edgeworth the novelist, in 
 which he makes reference to my pursuits and acquire- 
 ments in flattering language." 
 
 Audubon has copied into his journal many of these 
 letters, but the interest of them is not of sufficient import 
 to warrant their reproduction. 
 
 By the exhibition of his pictures at the Royal Insti- 
 tution, Liverpool, he realized 100/. ; but he speedily 
 removed to Manchester, and carried with him his coUec- 
 
126 Life of Audubon, 
 
 tion of drawings for exhibition in that city. " Dr. Traill, 
 of the Royal Institution, had ordered all my drawings to 
 "be packed up by the curator of the museum, and their 
 transport gave me no trouble whatever. 
 
 " September lo. I left Liverpool and the many kind 
 friends I had made in it. In five and a half hours the 
 coach arrived at Manchester. I took lodgings in the 
 King's Arms. I strolled about the city, and it seemed 
 to me to be most miserably laid out. I was struck by the 
 sallow looks, sad faces, ragged garments, and poverty of a 
 large portion of the population, which seemed worse off 
 than the negroes of Louisiana. I exhibited my pictures 
 in a gallery at Manchester at one shilling for entrance, 
 but the result was not satisfactory." 
 
 At Manchester Audubon made the acquaintance of 
 t\vo very valuable friends — Mr. Gregg and Mr. McMurray. 
 He visited many families, and was struck with the patri- 
 archal manner of an Englishman who called his son "my 
 love." He enjoyed for the first time a day's shooting 
 after the English fashion in the neighborhood of Man- 
 chester, but does not appear to have been charmed with 
 the sport. It was soon discovered that the exhibition of 
 his drawings at Manchester was not going to pay; but 
 he opened a subscription book for the publication of his 
 work on the birds of America. . . 
 
 " September 28. Revisited Liverpool to consult about 
 a prospectus for my book. Stayed with Mr. Rathbone, 
 and met there Mr. John Bohn, the London bookseller, 
 who advised me to go to Paris and consult about cost of 
 publication, after which I ought to go to London and 
 compare the outlays before fixing upon any plan. Mrs. 
 Rathbone desired me to draw the wild turkey of America 
 the size of my thumb-nail. This she had engraved on a 
 precious stone in tL^ form of a seal, and presented it 
 to me. 
 
At Manchester, 1 27 
 
 * October 6. I returned to Manchester, driven in th& 
 carriage of a friend, and arrived at the hall in which my 
 pictures were exhibited, to find that the hall-keeper had 
 been drunk and had no returns to make. I stayed about 
 six weeks at Manchester, but the exhibition of my pictures 
 did not prosper. I visited Matlock, and paid five pounds 
 for spars to take home to my wife. I pulled some flowers 
 from the hills she had played over when a child, and 
 passed through the village of Bake well, called after some 
 one of her family. 
 
 " I determined to start for Edinburgh, and paying 
 thrcQ pounds fifteen shillings for coach-hire, started for 
 that city. 
 
 " October 25. Left Manchester for Edinburgh yester- 
 day, following the road by Carlisle into Scotland. AVas 
 struck with the bleak appearance of the country. The 
 Scottish shepherds looked like the poor mean whites of 
 the Slave-states. The coachmen have a mean practice 
 of asking money from the passengers after every stage. 
 Arrived at Edinburgh, and called with letters of intro- 
 duction on Professor Jameson and Professor Duncan — 
 on Dr. Charles and Dr. Henry at the Infirmary, and 
 upon the celebrated anatomist Dr. Knox. Professor 
 Jameson received me with the greatest coldness — ex- 
 plained there was no chance of my seeing Sir Walter Scott, 
 who was busy with a life of Napoleon and a novel, and 
 who lived the life of a recluse. He said his own engage- 
 ments would prevent his calling for some days. 
 
 " Dr. Knox came to me in his rooms dressed in an 
 overgown, and with bleeding hands, which he wiped. 
 He read Dr. Traill's letter and wished me success, and 
 promised to do all in his power for me, and appointed 
 the next day to call upon me and introduce some scien- 
 tific friends to examine my drawings. I was much struck 
 with Edinburgh — it is a spleidid old city. 
 
128 Life of Audubon. 
 
 " The lower class of women (fishwives) resemble the 
 squaws of the West Their rolling gait, inturned toes, 
 and manner of carrying burdens on their backs, is exactly 
 that of the Shawnee women. Their complexions are 
 either fair, purple, or brown as a mulatto. 
 
 " The men wear long whiskers and beards, and are 
 extremely uncouth in manners as well as in speech. 
 
 " October 27. Filled with sad forebodings and doubts 
 of all progress. Miss Ewart called to see my drawings, 
 and was delighted with them. She exclaimed, after 
 looking, at them. * How delighted Sir Walter Scott 
 would be with them ! * I presented a letter to Mr. 
 Patrick Neil, the printer, who received me with great 
 cordiality, invited me to his house, and promised to 
 interest himself for me generally. Mr. Andrew Duncan 
 gave me a note to Francis Jeffrey, the famous editor of 
 the * Edinburgh Review.' 
 
 " October 30. Called on Mr. Francis Jeffrey, who was 
 not at home ; wrote a note for him in his library, which 
 I found was filled with books tossed about in confusion, 
 pamphlets, portfolios, and dirt. 
 
 " Prospects more dull and unpromising ; and I went 
 to Mr. Patrick Neil, to express my intention of going on 
 to London, as my pictures of the American Birds were 
 evidently not appreciated in Edinburgh. He remonstrat- 
 ed kindly, spoke encouragingly, and introduced me to 
 Mr. Lizars, the engraver of Mr. Selby's Birds. 
 
 " Mr. Lizars had the greatest admiration for Selby, 
 but no sooner had he looked into my portfolio than he 
 exclaimed, * My God, I never saw any thing like these 
 before;' and he afterwards said the naturalist, Sir 
 William Jardine, ought to see them immediately. 
 
 " November r. Professor Jameson has called, Mr. 
 Lizars having, with his warmth of heart, brought the natu- 
 ralist to see my collection of birds. The Professor was 
 
Success in Edinburgh. 129 
 
 very kind, but his manner of speaking of my drawings 
 leaves me to suspect that he may have been quizzing me. 
 
 ^^ Nove?tiber 2. Breakfasted with Professor Jameson 
 in his splendid house. The Professor's appearance is 
 somewhat remarkable, and the oddities of his hair are 
 worthy of notice. It seems to stand up all over his 
 head and points in various directions, so that it looks 
 strange and uncouth. Around a rough exterior he owns 
 a generous heart, but which is not at first discernible. 
 I felt my career now certain. I was spoken kindly of by 
 the newspapers, and in the streets I heard such remarks 
 made upon me as — *That is the French nobleman.' I 
 spent three very delightful weeks, dining, breakfasting, 
 and visiting many agreeable people in Edinburgh. Pro- 
 fessor Jameson promised to introduce my work to the 
 public in his " Natural History Magazine,' and Professor 
 Wilson (Christopher North) offered me his services in the 
 pages of * Maga.' 
 
 " Professor Wilson likewise volunteered to introduce 
 me to Sir Walter Scott, and Mr. Combe, the phrenolo- 
 gist. Mr. Syme, the portrait painter, requested me to 
 sit for my portrait. A committee from the Royal Insti- 
 tution of Edinburgh called upon me and offered me the 
 use of the rooms for the exhibition of my dll-awings, and 
 the receipts from this source amounted to £^ per day. 
 
 " What, however, most pleased me v/as the offer of 
 Mr. Lizars to bring out a first number of my * Birds of 
 America,' the plates to be the size of life. I have 
 obtained from Mr. Rathbone his name as a subscriber, 
 and have written to him with a prospectus, and explained 
 that I shall travel about with a specimen number until I 
 obtain three hundred subscribers, which will assure the 
 success of the work. Sir William Jardine, nov/ in the 
 midst of his extensive ornithological publication, spends 
 many hours a day beside me examining m^? manner of 
 6* 
 
ijo Life of Audubon. 
 
 work, and he has invited me to make a long visit to his 
 residence in the country. 
 
 *^ November 28. Saw to-day the first proof of the 
 first engraving of my American Birds, and was very well 
 pleased with its appearance. 
 
 ^^ November 29. Sir Walter Scott has promised a 
 firiend to come and see my drawings. Invited to dine 
 with the Antiquarian Society at the Waterloo Hotel. 
 Met the Earl of Elgin at the dinner, who was very cor- 
 dial. The dinner was sumptuous, the first course being 
 all Scotch dishes, a novelty to me, and consisting of mar- 
 row-bones, codfish-heads stuffed with oatmeal and garlick, 
 blackpudding, sheepsheads, &c. Lord Elgin presided, 
 and after dinner, with an auctioneer's mallet brought the 
 company to order by rapping sharply on the table. He 
 then rose and said, * The King, four-times-four !" All 
 rose and drank the monarch's health, the president say- 
 ing, * Ip ! ip ! ip ! ' followed by sixteen cheers. Mr. 
 Skein, first secretary to the Society, drank my own 
 health, prefacing the toast with many flatteries, which 
 made me feel very faint and chill. I was expected to 
 make a speech, but could not, and never had tried. 
 Being called on for a reply, I said, 'Gentlemen, my 
 incapacity for words to respond to your flattering notice 
 is hardly exceeded by that of the birds now hanging on 
 the walls of your institution. I am truly obliged to you 
 for your favors, and can only say, God bless you all, and 
 may your Society prosper.' I sat down with the perspi- 
 ration running over me, and was glad to drink off" a glass 
 of wine that Mr. Lizars kindly handed to me in my dis- 
 tress. Some Scottish songs were sung; and William 
 Allen, the famous Scottish painter, concluded the fiin by 
 giving a droll imitation of the buzzing of a bee about the 
 room, following it and striking at it with his handkerchief 
 as if it was flying from him." 
 
Success in Edinburgh, 131 
 
 " November 30. The picture representing myself 
 dressed in a wolf-skin coat is finished, and although the 
 likeness is not good, the picture will be hung to-morrow 
 in the Exhibition room. 
 
 " December i. Lord Elgin and another nobleman 
 visited my exhibition to-day, and talked with me about 
 my work and prospects. Fifteen pounds were drawn at 
 the Exhibition to-day. 
 
 " December 2. Breakfasted with the wonderful David 
 Bridges, who commenced to dust his furniture with his 
 handkerchief. I hear that Professor Wilson has been 
 preparing an article upon me and my ornithological 
 labors for * Blackwood's Magazine.' Dined with Dr. 
 Brown, a very amiable man, and met Professor Jameson. 
 Sir James Hall and Captain Basil Hall have called upon 
 me to-day, the latter making inquiries in reference to 
 some purpose to visit the United States. 
 
 " December 3. Nearly finished a painting of the Otter 
 in Trap, which Mr. Lizars and Mr. Syme thought excel- 
 lent. Dr. Knox has kindly promised to propose my 
 name for membership of the Wernerian Natural History 
 Society of Edinburgh. 
 
 December 10. My success in Edinburgh borders on 
 the miraculous. My book is to be published in numbers 
 containing four birds in each the size of life, in a style 
 surpassing anything now existing, at two guineas a num- 
 ber. The engravings are truly beautiful ; some of them 
 have been colored, and are now on exhibition. 
 
 ^''December 12. Called on Dr. Brewster and read him 
 an article on the Carrion Crow. After reading the paper 
 I was introduced to Mrs. Brewster, a charming woman, 
 whose manner put me at entire ease. ; 
 
 ''^December 16. Received a note from Mr. Rathbone, 
 objecting to the large size of my book, which he suspected 
 would be rather against its popularity. Went to the Wer- 
 
IJ2 Life of Audubon. 
 
 nerian Society to show my drawings of the Buzzard. Pro- 
 fessor Jameson rose and pronounced quite an eulogy upon 
 my labors, and the Society passed a vote of thanks upon 
 them. Professor Jameson afterwards proposed me as an 
 honorary member of the Society, which was carried by 
 acclamation. 
 
 " Dined with Lady Hunter, mother-in-law to Captain 
 Basil Hall, and met Lady Mary Clarke, aged eighty-two, 
 who was acquainted with Generals Wolfe and Montgom- 
 ery. I had many questions put to me upon subjects con- 
 nected with America by the distinguished guests I met 
 at the house. Captain Basil Hall has presented me with 
 a copy of his work upon Soutli America, accompanied by 
 a complimentary note. 
 
 " December 1 7. Busy painting two cats fighting over a 
 squirrel. Up at candle-light, and worked at the cats till 
 nine o'clock. 
 
 " December 19. Went to breakfast with Sir William Jar- 
 dine and Mr. Selby at Barry's Hotel. I was sauntering 
 along the streets, thinking of the beautiful aspects of na- 
 ture, meditating on the power of the great Creator, on 
 the beauty and majesty of his works, and of the skill he 
 had given man to study them, when the whole train of 
 my thoughts was suddenly arrested by a ragged, sickly- 
 looking beggar-boy. His face told of hunger and hard- 
 ship, and I gave him a shilling and passed on. But 
 turning again, the child was looking after me, and I beck- 
 oned to him to return. Taking him back to my lodg- 
 ings, I gave him all the garments I had which were worn, 
 added five shillings more in money, gave him my 
 blessing, and sent him away rejoicing, and feeling myself 
 as if God had smiled on me. I afterwards breakfasted 
 with Sir William, and gave a lesson in drawing to him and 
 to Mr. Selby. 
 
 " December 20. Breakfasted with Mr. George Combe, 
 
Costume, 133 
 
 the phiCnologist, who examined my head and afterwards 
 measured my skull with the accuracy and professional 
 manner in which I measured the heads, bills, and claws of 
 my birds. Among other talents, he said I possessed 
 largely the faculties which would enable me to excel in 
 painting. He noted down his observations to read at 
 the Phrenological Society. 
 
 " Received an invitation from the Earl of Morton to 
 visit him at his seat at some distance from Edinburgh." 
 
 December 22. From the entries in his journal under 
 this date it appears he had written to his wife that he in- 
 tended to remove to Newcastle or Glasgow. " I expect 
 to visit the Duke of Northumberland, who has promised 
 to subscribe for my work. I have taken to dressing 
 again, and now dress twice a-day, and wear silk stockings 
 and pumps. I wear my hair as long as usual. I believe 
 it does as much for me as my paintings. One hundred 
 subscribers for my book will pay all expenses. Some 
 persons are terrified at the sum of one hundred and 
 eighty guineas for a work ; but this amount is to be 
 spread over eight years, during which time the volumes 
 will be gradually completed. I am feted, feasted, elected 
 honorary member of societies, making money by my ex- 
 hibition and by my paintings. It is Mr. Audubon here 
 and Mr. Audubon there, and I can only hope that Mr. 
 Aududon will not be made a conceited fool at last. 
 
 ^^ December 23. The exhibition of my birds more 
 crowded than ever. This day I summed up the re- 
 ceipts, and they amounted to eight hundred dollars. I 
 have presented my painting of the American Turkeys to 
 the Royal Institution for the use of their rooms. A deal- 
 er valued tlie picture at one hundred guineas. 
 
 ^^ December 2^, ChxistrwdiS, Bought a brooch for Mrs. 
 Audubon. Astonished that the Scotch have no relig- 
 ious ceremony on Christmas Day. 
 
IJ4 J-'^f^ of Audubon. 
 
 ^^ December 2*]. Went to Dalmahoy, to the Earl of 
 Morton's seat, eight miles from Edinburgh. The count- 
 ess kindly received me, and introduced me to the earl, a 
 small slender man, tottering on his feet and weaker than 
 a newly-hatched partridge. He welcomed me with tears 
 in his eyes. The countess is about forty, not handsome, 
 but fine-looking, fair, fresh-complexioned, dark flashing 
 eyes, superior intellect and cultivation. She was dressed 
 in a rich crimson silk, and her mother in heavy black 
 satin. 
 
 " My bedroom was a superb parlor with yellow furni- 
 ture and yellow hangings. After completing my toilet, 
 dinner is announced, and I enter the dining-room, where 
 the servants in livery attend, and one in plain clothes 
 hands about the plates in a napkin, so that his hand may 
 not touch them. In the morning I visited the stables, 
 and saw four splendid Abyssinian horses with tails reach- 
 ing to the ground. I saw in the aviary the falcon-hawks 
 used of old for hunting with, and which were to be 
 brought to the house in order that I might have an op- 
 portunity of witnessing their evolutions and flight The 
 hawks were brought with bells and hoods and perched on 
 gloved hands as in the days of chivalry. The countess 
 wrote her name in my subscription-book, and offered to 
 pay the price in advance. 
 
 ^^ December 31. Dined with Captain Basil Hall, and 
 met Francis Jeffrey and Mr. M^CuUoch, the distinguished 
 writer on political economy, a plain, simple, and amiable 
 man. Jeffrey is a little man, with a serious face and dig- 
 nified air. He looks both shrewd and cunning, and talks 
 with so much volubility he is rather displeasing. In the 
 course of the evening Jeffrey seemed to discover that if 
 he was Jeffrey I was Audubon." 
 
CHAPTER X, 
 
 Editihurgh — The Royal Society — Scott — Edinburgh People— 'Syd' 
 ney Smith and a Sermon — Miss O'Neill the Actress— Mrs. 
 Grant of Laggan — Prospectus of the Great Work, 
 
 EBRUARY 1. Dr. Brewster propcied that I 
 should exhibit the five plates of my first number 
 of the Birds of America at the Royal Society 
 this evening. He is a great optician, and advises me to 
 get a camera-lucida, so as to take the outline of my birds 
 more rapidly and correctly. Such an instrument would 
 be usefiil in saving time, and a great relief in hot weather, 
 since outlining is the hardest part of the work, and more 
 than half of the labor. I visited the Royal Society at 
 eight o'clock, and laid my large sheets on the table : they 
 were examined and praised. After this we were all called 
 into the great room, and Captain Hall came and took my 
 hand and led me to a seat immediately opposite to Sir 
 Walter Scott, the President, where I had a perfect view 
 of this great man, and studied nature from nature's 
 noblest work. A long lecture followed on the introduc 
 tion of the Greek language into England, after which the 
 President rose, and all others followed his example. Sir 
 Walter came and shook hands with me, asked how the 
 cold weather of Edinburgh agreed with me, and so 
 attracted the attention of many members to me, as if I 
 had been a distinguished stranger. 
 
 ^^ February lo. Visited the Exhibition at the Royal 
 Institution. Saw the picture of the Black Cocks, which 
 was put up there for public inspection. I know that the 
 birds are composed and drawn as well as any birds ever 
 
 t , 
 
136 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 have been ; but what a difference exists between the 
 drawing of one bird and the composition of a group, 
 and harmonizing them with a landscape and sky, and 
 well-adapted foreground I Who that has ever tried to 
 combine these three different conceptions in a single 
 picture, has not felt a sense of fear while engaged in his 
 work ? I looked long and carefully at the picture bf a 
 stag painted by Landseer ; — the style was good, and the 
 brush was handled with fine effect ; but he fails in copy- 
 ing Nature, without which the best work will be a failure. 
 A stag, three dogs, and a Highland hunter are introduced 
 on the canvas ; but the stag has his tongue out and his 
 mouth shut I The principal dog, a greyhound, has the 
 deer by one ear, while one of his fore-paws is around his 
 leg, as if in the act of fondling with him. The hunter 
 has laced the deer by one horn very prettily, and, in the 
 attitude of a ballet-dancer, is about to throw another 
 noose over the head of the animal. To me, and my friend 
 Bourgeat, or Dr. Pope, such a picture is quite a farce ; 
 but it is not so in London, for there are plenty of such 
 pictures there, and this one created a great sensation 
 among the connoisseurs. 
 
 " Captain Hall invited me to take some of my draw- 
 ings to show Lady Mansfield, who is his particular friend, 
 and who expressed a desire to see them. Unfortunately 
 she was not at home when we called ; but her three 
 daughters and several noblemen who were present ex- 
 amined them. The ladies- were handsome, but seemed 
 haughty, and wanting in that refinement of manners and 
 condescending courtesy I had seen in the Countess of 
 Morton ; and the gentlemen evinced a like lack of good 
 breeding. This did not disturb me, but I was troubled 
 and pained for Captain Hall, who is so instinctively a 
 gentleman, because I saw that he felt hurt and mortified. 
 He requested me to leave my drawings, which cost me so 
 
The Werner tan Society, ^37 
 
 many days' labor, and of which I am so jealous, and I 
 would not add to his pain who had proved so kind a 
 friend to me by denying him. Lunch was already on the 
 table, but I was not asked to remain, and I was truly 
 glad of it, and I went away almost unnoticed, and hurried 
 to meet an engagement at the Wernerian rooms. 
 
 " When I entered the rooms of the Wernerian Socie- 
 ty, they were full as an egg, and I was told by a friend 
 that the large assembly had come because of a report 
 that I was to read a paper on the habits of the rattle- 
 snake. Professor Graham arose soon after my arrival, 
 and said, *Mr. President, Mr. Audubon has arrived.' 
 But I had been too busy to finish the paper, and Mr. 
 Lizars explained this for me. My engravings were then 
 called for by Professor Jameson, and they were examined 
 and highly praised. The paper on the alligator was fin- 
 ished soon after, and read before the Society. 
 
 "A stranger lately accosted me in the street, and 
 suggested to me, that if I would paint an Osage Indian 
 hunting wild turkeys, it would take with the public and 
 increase my reputation. No doubt it would, for whatever 
 is most strange is most taking now ; but so long as my 
 hair floats over my shoulders I shall probably attract at- 
 tention enough ; and if it hung to my heels it would 
 attract more. 
 
 ^^ February ii. Worked all the morning at the Royal 
 Institution, touching up my pictures hanging there ; sev- 
 eral other artists came and worked on theirs also. It was 
 quite amusing to hear them praising one another, and 
 condemning the absent. 
 
 ^^ February 12. Began the day by working hard on the 
 pictures at the rooms of the Scottish Society. And to- 
 day the Antiquarian Society held its first meeting since 
 my election. It is customary for new members to be 
 present at such times, and I went, and though I felt 
 
ij 8 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 rather sheepish, I was warmly congratulated by the mem 
 bers. At one o'clock 1 visited the rooms of the Royal 
 Society, which were crowded, and tables were set, cover- 
 ed with wine and fruits and other refreshments. The 
 ladies were mostly of noble families, and I saw many 
 there whom I knew. But the Ladies Mansfield passed 
 me several times, without manifesting any recollection of 
 a man who, a few days before, had waited on their lady- 
 ships, and shown them his drawings, not for his pleas- 
 ure, but their benefit. Sir Walter Scott was present, anJ 
 came towards me and shook hands cordially, and point- 
 ing to a picture, said, * Mr. Audubon, many such scenes 
 have I witnessed in my younger days.' We talked much 
 of all about us, and I would gladly have asked him to 
 join me in a glass of wine, but my foolish habit prevented 
 me. Having inquired after the health of his daughters, I 
 shortly left him and the room, for I was very hungry ; 
 and although the table was loaded with delicacies, and 
 the ladies were enjoying them freely, I say it to my 
 shame, that I had not the confidence to lay my fingers 
 on a single thing." 
 
 An interval of a week occurs in the journal, and it is 
 explained by the fact that Audubon was busily engaged 
 in other compositions, and writing twelve letters of in- 
 troduction to persons in America for Captain Basil Hall, 
 and preparing an article on the habits of the wild 
 pigeon, which he had been requested to do, to read be- 
 fore the Natural History Society. Dr. Brewster saw the 
 latter before it was read, and requested permission to 
 publish it in his journal. "This," says Audubon, "was 
 killing two birds with one stone, because I had promised 
 to write Brewster an article. I began that paper on 
 Wednesday, wrote all day, and sat up until half-past 
 three the next morning ; and so absorbed was my whole 
 soul and spirit in the work, that I felt as if I were in 
 
Remarks on Wild Pigeons, 139 
 
 the woods of America among the pigeons, and my ears 
 were filled with the sound of their rustling wings. After 
 sleeping a few hours, I rose and corrected it. Captain 
 Hall called a few hours after, read the article, and beg- 
 ged a copy : the copy was made, and sent to him at eight 
 o'clock that evening. 
 
 "Captain Hall expressed some doubts as to my 
 views respecting the affection and love of pigeons, as 
 if I made it human, and raised the possessors quite 
 above the brutes. I presume the love of the mothers 
 for their young is much the same as the love of woman 
 for her offspring. There is but one kind of love ; God 
 is love, and all his creatures derive theirs from his ; only 
 it is modified by the different degrees of intelligence in 
 different beings and creatures.^' 
 
 On February 20, he writes, in a ?ong letter to his 
 wife : " It is impossible yet to say how long I shall re- 
 main in England ; at least until I have spent some months 
 in London. I am doing all I can to hasten my plans, 
 but it will take some time to complete them. The first 
 number of my birds will be published in March, and on 
 the fifth of the month the ballot takes place to decide my 
 election to the Royal Society, which, if successful, will 
 be of great advantage to me ; and whether successful or 
 no I shall leave Edinburgh five days after, to visit all the 
 principal towns in the three kingdoms, to obtain sub- 
 scribers for my work. 
 
 ^^ February 28. A few days of idleness have com- 
 pletely sickened me, and given me what is called the 
 blue-devils so severely, that I feel that the sooner I go 
 to work and drive them off the better. 
 
 ^^ March i. Mr. Kidd, a promising young artist in 
 landscape, only nineteen, breakfasted with me to-day, and 
 we talked on painting a long time, and I was charmed 
 with his talents, and thought what a difference it would 
 
I40 Life of Juduhon. 
 
 have made in my life if I had begun painting in oil at hia 
 age and with his ability. It is a sad reflection that I 
 have been compelled to hammer and stammer as if I 
 were working in opposition to God's will, and so now am 
 nothing but poor Audubon. I invited him to come to 
 my rooms daily, and to eat and drink with me, and give 
 me the pleasure of his company and the advantage of his 
 taste in painting. I told him of my ardent desire to im- 
 prove in the delightful art, and proposed to begin a new 
 picture, in which he should assist with his advice ; and 
 proposing to begin it to-morrow, I took down my port- 
 folio, to select a drawing to copy in oil. He had never 
 seen my works before, and appeared astonished as his 
 eyes ranged over the sheets. He expressed the warmest 
 admiration, and said, * How hopeless must be the task of 
 my giving any instruction to one who can draw like this ? 
 I pointed out to him that nature is the great study for 
 the artist, and assured him that the reason why my works 
 pleased him was because they are all exact copies of the 
 works of God, who is the great Architect and perfect Ar- 
 tist ; and impressed on his mind this fact, that nature in- 
 differently copied is far superior to the best idealities. 
 
 " March 3. For the last few days I have worked with 
 my brushes, while it has snowed and blown as if the devil 
 had cut the strings of the bags of -^olus, and turned all 
 its cold blasts down upon the mists of Scotland to freeze 
 them into snow. It is twenty years since I have seen 
 such a storm. Dined at Mr. Ritchie's, who is a well- 
 meaning man, and has a well-doing wife. The company 
 was mixed, and some of the ingredients were raw ; there 
 were learned and ignorant, wise and foolish, making up 
 the heterogeneous assembly. I enjoyed myself; but 
 there was an actor, named Vandenhoff, who performed 
 some theatrical pantomimes, which were disgusting to me. 
 I never saw such pranks in good society before : he tuck- 
 
Sydney Smith, 141 
 
 ed one lady's fan in his boot, and broke it, and made an 
 apology for it, and by his familiarity annoyed every one 
 present. I felt more pain for his host than shame for 
 himself. During the evening he made some unjust re- 
 marks about Mr. Lizars, and I rebuked him for it, tell- 
 ing him that he was my friend, and a good man. He 
 left soon after, to the great relief of all. 
 
 " March 4. To-day the snow is so deep that the mails 
 from all quarters are interrupted, and people are wad- 
 dling through it in the streets, and giving a lively repre- 
 sentation of a Lapland winter. Breakfasted with the 
 Rev. Mr. Newbold, and afterwards was toted to church in 
 a sedan chair. I had never been in one before, and I 
 like to try everything which is going on on the face of 
 this strange world. But so long as I have two feet and 
 legs, I never desire to try one of these machines again ; 
 the quick up-and-down, short swinging motion, reminded 
 me of the sensations I felt during the great earthquake 
 in Kentucky. But I was repaid for the ride by hearing a 
 sermon from the Rev. Sydney Smith. It was a sermon 
 to me. Oh ! what a soul there must be in the body of 
 that famous man; what a mingling of energetic and 
 sweet thoughts, what a fount of goodness there must be 
 within him ! He made me smile, and he made me think 
 more deeply perhaps than I had ever before in my life. 
 He interested me now by painting my foibles, and then 
 he pained me by portraying my sins, until he made my 
 cheeks crimson with shame, and filled my heart with 
 penitential sorrow. And I left the church filled with 
 veneration for God, and reverence for the wonderful 
 man who is so noble an example of his marvellous handy- 
 work. We returned to Mr. Newbold's for lunch, and ft-om 
 there I walked, tumbled, and pitched home in the deep 
 snow." 
 
 March 5. In a letter to Mrs. Audubon of this date, 
 
142 Life of Audubon. 
 
 he tells her of his election as a member of the Royal 
 Society, and says : " So poor Audubon, if not rich, thou 
 wilt be honored at least, and held in esteem among men. 
 
 " March 6. Finished my picture this morning, and 
 like it better than any I have painted." [He does not 
 say what this picture is, but it is evidently the one men- 
 tioned as begun with young Kidd.] " Mr. Ritchie, editor 
 of the * Scotsman,' asked for a copy of the first number of 
 my birds, to notice it in his paper. Went to the Society 
 of Arts, and saw there many beautiful and remarkable in- 
 ventions, among them a carriage propelled by steam, 
 which moved with great rapidity and regularity. I always 
 enjoy my visits here more than to the literary societies. 
 The time for leaving Edinburgh is drawing near, but I 
 am yet undetermined whether to go first to Glasgow or 
 Dublin, or else to Newcastle, and then to Liverpool, Ox- 
 ford, Cambridge, and so on to London ; but I shall soon 
 decide and move. 
 
 " March 7. Having determined to leave Edinburgh, 
 my first course is to settle up all my business affairs, and 
 make preparations for the future, and to this end I set 
 about collecting the letters promised me by friends to the 
 difierent places I proposed to visit. Professor Jameson 
 and Dr. Brewster have made me promise occasionally to 
 contribute some articles for their journals. I mentioned 
 to Dr. Brewster the desire I had for a line from Sir Wal- 
 ter Scott. He told me he was to dine with him that day, 
 and he would mention the subject to him, and he had no 
 doubt he would kindly grant it. Passed the evening at 
 a large party at Mr. Tytler's, where, among other agreea- 
 ble ladies and gentlemen, I was introduced to Sydney 
 Smith, the famous preacher of last Sunday. Saw his fair 
 daughters, and heard them sweetly sing ; and he and his 
 daughters appointed next Saturday to examine my draw- 
 
Letter from Sir Walter Scott, 143 
 
 ^^ March 8. The weather was dreadful last night, 
 Arind howling, and, what you would hardly expect, the 
 snow six feet deep in some places. The mail-carriers 
 from here for London were obliged to leave their horses, 
 and go on foot with their bags. Wrote the following let- 
 ter to Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 " * Dear Sir, 
 
 " * On the eve of my departure to visit all parts 
 of the island, and afterwards the principal cities of the 
 Continent, I feel an ardent desire to be honored by being 
 tlie bearer of a few lines from your own hand to whomever 
 you may please to introduce me. 
 
 " ' I beg this of you with the hope that my efforts to ad- 
 vance ornithological studies, by the publication of my col- 
 lections and manuscripts, may be thought worthy of your 
 kind attentions, and an excuse for thus intruding on your 
 precious moments. Should you feel the least scruple, 
 please frankly decline it, and believe me, dear sir, that I 
 value so highly my first reception, when presented to you 
 by my good friend Captain Basil Hall, and your subse- 
 quent civilities, that I never shall cease to be, with the 
 highest respect and admiration, 
 
 " * Your most obedient, humble servant, 
 
 " * John J. Audubon. ' " 
 
 That same evening the following answer was received. 
 
 " * Dear Mr. Audubon, 
 
 " * I am sure you will find many persons better 
 qualified than myself to give you a passport to foreign 
 countries, since circumstances have prevented our oftener 
 meeting, and my ignorance does not permit me to say 
 anything on the branches of natural history of which you 
 are so well possessed. But I can easily and truly say, 
 that what I have had the pleasure of seeing, touching your 
 
144 Life of Audubon. 
 
 talents and manners, corresponds with all I have heard 
 
 in your favor ; and that I am a sincere believer in the 
 
 extent of your scientific attainments, though I have not 
 
 the knowledge necessary to form an accurate judgment on 
 
 the subject. I sincerely wish your travels may prove 
 
 agreeable, and remain, 
 
 " * Very much your 
 
 " * Obedient servant, 
 
 '^ * Walter Scott.' 
 
 "'Edinburgh, March 8.'" 
 
 " Spent tlie evening at Miss O'Neill's, the actress. 
 Several ladies and gentlemen of musical ability were 
 present, and after tea Miss O'Neill arose and said she 
 would open the concert. She was beautifully dressed in 
 plain white muslin, her fine auburn hair hanging in flowing 
 ringlets about her neck and rose-colored scarf over her 
 shoulders, looking as differently from what she does on 
 the rtage as cafi be imagined. She sang and played 
 sweetly, her large, dark languid eyes expressing the deep 
 emotions of her soul. She scarcely left off singing for a 
 moment, for as soon as one thing was finished some per- 
 son called for another, and she readily replied, * Oh, yes ;' 
 and glees, duets, and trios followed one another, filling 
 the room with her melodies. I thought at last that she 
 must be fatigued, and said so to her. But she replied, 
 * Mr. Audubon, music is like painting, it never fatigues if 
 one is fond of it, and I am.' We had an elegant supper, and 
 after that more music, and then more refreshments and 
 wine ; this gave new impulse to the song. Miss O'Neill 
 played, and called on the singers to accompany her. The 
 music travelled along the table, and sometimes leaped 
 across it ; gentlemen and ladies took turns, until, looking 
 at my watch, I found that it was past two o'clock, when I 
 arose, and in spite of many entreaties, shook hands with 
 Miss O'Neill, bowed to the company, and made my exit. 
 
A Dinner Party, 145 
 
 " March 1 3. Breakfasted with the famous Mrs. Grant, 
 her son and daughter the only other company. She is 
 aged and very deaf, but very intelhgent and warm-hearted. 
 We talked of America, and she is really the first person I 
 have met here who knows much about it. She thought it 
 would not be for the benefit of the slaves to set them free 
 suddenly from their masters' protection. 
 
 " Passed a most uncomfortable evening at Sir James 
 Riddell's. The company was too high for me, for al- 
 though Sir James and his lady did all that could be de- 
 sired to entertain me, I did not smile nor have a happy 
 thought, all the evening j and had not Mrs. Hay and Mrs. 
 Captain Hall been present, I should have been very mis- 
 erable. After dinner, however, my drawings were ex- 
 amined and praised, and they seemed to look on me as 
 less of a bear, and I felt relieved. My good friend Mr. 
 Hay asked a you-ag Russian nobleman who \lras present 
 if he could not give me some letters to his country, but he 
 was silent. I turned to Mr. Hay, and thanked him for 
 his kind intentions in such a way as to turn the conversa- 
 tion, and relieve his embarrassment. The best recom- 
 mendation I can have is my own talents, and the fruits of 
 my own labors, and what others will not do for me I will 
 try and do for myself. I was very sorry that Mr. Hay's 
 feelings should have been hurt on my account by the 
 young man's silence, but I soon made him at ease again. 
 Sir James volunteered to give me letters to Sir Thomas 
 Ackland and Sir Robert Inglis, both noblemen of dis- 
 tinction, and patrons of the science I cultivate. The 
 style here far surpassed even Lord Morton's ; fine gentle- 
 men waited on us at table, and two of them put my cloak 
 about my shoulders, notwithstanding my remonstrances. 
 
 ^^ March 17. Issued my ' Prospectus' this morning, for 
 the publication of my great work. 
 
146 Life of Audubon. 
 
 ^^ T7ie Prospectus. 
 
 "To those who have not seen any portion of the 
 author's collection of original drawings, it may be proper 
 to state, that their superiority consists in the accuracy as 
 to proportion and outline, and the variety and truth of the 
 attitudes and positions of the figures, resulting from the 
 peculiar means discovered and employed by the author, 
 and his attentive examination of the objects portrayed 
 during a long series of years. The author has not con- 
 tented himself, as others have done, with single profile 
 views, but in very many instances has grouped his fig- 
 ures so as to represent the originals at their natural avoca- 
 tions, and has placed them on branches of trees, decorated 
 with foliage, blossoms, and fruits, or amidst plants of 
 numerous species. Some ate seen pursuing their pre>* 
 through the air, searching for food amongst the leaves and 
 herbage, sitting in their nests, or feeding their young; 
 whilst others, of a different nature, swim, wade, or glide 
 in or over their allotted element 
 
 " The insects, reptiles, and fishes that form the food of 
 these birds have now and then been introduced into the 
 drawings. In every instance where a difference of 
 plumage exists between the sexes, both the male and the 
 female have been represented ; and the extraordinary 
 changes which some species undergo in their progress 
 from youth to maturity have been depicted. The plants 
 are all copied from nature, and, as many of the originals 
 are remarkable for their beauty, their usefulness, or their 
 rarity, the botanist cannot fail to look upon them with de- 
 light. 
 
 ^ "The particulars of the plan of the work may be re- 
 duced to the following heads : 
 
 " I. The size of the work is double elephant folio, 
 the paper being of the finest quality. 
 
A Great Sacrifice, 147 
 
 " II. The engravings are, in every instance, of the 
 exact dimensions of the drawings, which, without any ex 
 ception, represent the birds and other objects of theit 
 natural size. 
 
 "III. The plates are colored in the most careful man- 
 ner from the original drawings. 
 
 " IV. The work appears in numbers, of which five are 
 published annually, each number consisting of five plates. 
 
 " V. The price of each number is two guineas, paya- 
 ble on delivery." 
 
 Probably no other undertaking of Audubon's life 
 illustrates the indomitable character of the man more 
 fully than this prospectus. He was in a strange country, 
 with no friends but those he had made within a few 
 months, and not ready money enough in haiid to bring 
 out the first number proposed, and yet he entered confi- 
 dently on this undertaking, which was to cost over a hun- 
 dred thousand dollars, and with no pledge of help, but on 
 the other hand discouragements on all sides, and from his 
 best friends, of the hopelessness of such an undertaking. 
 
 March 19. Under this date we have an amusing en- 
 try. Audubon had been frequently importuned by his 
 friends to cut his hair, which he had for years worn in ring- 
 lets falling to his shoulders. Hence the obituary : — 
 
 EDINBURGH. 
 March 19, 1827. 
 
 This day my Ilair was sacrificed, and the will of God usurp- 
 ed by the wishes of Man. 
 
 As the Barber clipped my locks rapidly, it reminded me of 
 
 the horrible tiroes of the French Revolution, when the same 
 
 operation was performed upon all the victims murdered by the 
 
 Guillotine. 
 
 My heart sank low. 
 
 JOHN J. AUDUBON. 
 
148 Life of Audubon, 
 
 The margin of the sheet is painted black, about 
 three-fourths of an inch deep all around, as if in deep 
 mourning for the loss which he had reluctantly submitted 
 to in order to please his friends. He consented, sadly, 
 because he expected soon to leave for London, and Cap- 
 tain Hall persuaded him that it would be better for him 
 to wear it according to the prevailing English fashion 1 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 rrovimial Canvass for Subscribers — Visit to London — Sir Thomas 
 Lawrence — The Great Work in Progress — Horrors of London — 
 The Great Work Presented to the King. 
 
 UITTING Edinburgh with a high heart, the in- 
 domitable naturalist began his provincial can- 
 vass, meeting, as is usual in such cases, with two 
 kinds of treatment, — ^very good and very bad. He visited 
 in succession Newcastle, Leeds, York, Shrewsbury, and 
 Manchester, securing a few subscribers at two hundred 
 pounds a head in each place. His diary chronicles mi- 
 nutely all his affairs — dinirig-out, tea-drinking," receiving," 
 — but none are very interesting. The only incident at all 
 worth recording is a visit paid to Bewick the engraver, but 
 as it adds nothing to our knowledge of one who was a 
 real genius in his way, we pass on to metal more attrac- 
 tive, — to London, where Audubon continued his canvass, 
 with great success among the aristocracy. From a con- 
 fused heap of memoranda we take a few notes of this Lon- 
 don visit, suppressing much, and somewhat doubtful of 
 the relevancy even of what w^e select. 
 
 " Sir Thomas Lawrence, — My first call on this great 
 artist and idolized portrait-painter of Great Britain, whose 
 works are known over the whole world, was at half-past 
 eight in the morning. I was assured he would be as hard 
 at work at that time as I usually am. I took with me my 
 letters and portfolio, with some original drawings. The 
 servant said his master was in ; I gave my name, and 
 waited about five minutes, when he came down from his 
 room. His manner and reception impressed me most 
 
1 50 Life of Audubon, 
 
 favorably, and I was surprised to find him dressed as if 
 for the whole day, in a simple but clean garb. He shook 
 my hand, read my letters, and so gave me time to glance 
 at the marble figures in the room and to examine his face. 
 It did not show the marks of genius that I expected in one 
 so eminent, but looked pale and pensive. After reading 
 my letters he said he was pleased to meet another Ameri- 
 can introduced to him by his friend Sully, adding, that 
 he wished much to see the drawings of a man so highly 
 spoken of, and appointing next Thursday to call on me. He 
 took a large card and wrote the appointment on it, and 
 put it back in its place. 
 
 " Sir Thomas is no ornithologist, and therefore could 
 not well judge of the correctness of the detail of my draw- 
 ings, which can be appreciated fully only by those who 
 are acquainted with the science of which I myself am yet 
 only a student. But I found that he had a perfect idea of 
 the rules of drawing any object whatever, as well of the 
 forms and composition, or management of the objects 
 offered for the inspection of his keen eyes. I thought 
 from his face that he looked at them with astonishment 
 and pleasure, although he did not open his lips until 
 I had shown the last drawing, when he asked if I * paint- 
 ed in oils ? ' On answering him in the affirmative, he in- 
 vited me to examine his rooms. The room where he 
 painted, to my utter astonishment, had a southern light : 
 upon his easel was a canvas (kitcat), on which was a per- 
 fect drawing in black chalk, beautifully finished, of a no- 
 bleman, and on a large easel a full-sized portrait of a no- 
 ble lady, represented in the open air ; and on the latter 
 he went to work. I saw that his pallet was enormous, 
 and looked as if already prepared with the various tints 
 wanted by some one else, and that he had an almost in- 
 numerable number of brushes and pencils of all descrip- 
 tions. He now glazed one part of his picture, and then 
 
Sir Thomas Lawrence. 151 
 
 retouched another part with fine colors, and in a deliber- 
 ate way which did not indicate that he was in any haste 
 to finish it. He next laid down his pall t, and, turning 
 to the chalk drawing upon the unpainted canvas, asked 
 me how I liked his manner of proceeding? But as no 
 compliment could be paid by me to such an artist, I 
 merely said that I thought it the very quintessence of his 
 art. A waiter then entered, and announced that break- 
 fast was ready. He invited me to remain and join him 
 in his * humble meal,' which I declined, while we walked 
 downstairs together. I remarked on the very large num- 
 ber of unfinished portraits I saw : to which he mildly re- 
 plied, * My dear sir, this is my only misfortune ; I can- 
 not tell if I shall ever see the day when they will all be 
 finished.' Insisting on my remaining to breakfast, I 
 went in ; it consisted of a few boiled eggs, some dry 
 toast, and tea and coffee. He took the first, and I the 
 last : this finished, I bid him good-morning. It was ten 
 o'clock when I left, and as I passed out three carriages 
 were waiting at the door ; and had I not been a student 
 in ornithology I would have wished myself a Sir Thomas 
 Lawrence, for I thought that after all the superiority of 
 this wonderful man's talents I could with less powers 
 realize more than he by my own more constant industry. 
 " Sir Thomas afterwards paid me three visits j two at 
 my boarding house and one at Mr. Havell's, my engrav- 
 er ; and I will tell you something of each of them to 
 show you the kindness of his heart. It was nine in the 
 morning the first time he came ; he looked at some of 
 my drawings of quadrupeds and birds, both finished and 
 unfinished. He said nothing of their value, but asked 
 me particularly of the prices which I put on them. I 
 mentioned the price of several in order, and to my sur- 
 prise he said he would bring me a few purchasers that 
 very day if I would remain at home : this I promised, 
 
1^2 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 and he left me very greatly relieved. In about two hours 
 he returned with two gentlemen, to whom he did not in- 
 troduce me, but who were pleased with my work, and one 
 purchased the * Otter Caught in a Trap,' for which he 
 gave me twenty pounds sterling, and the other, ' A Group 
 of Common Rabbits,' for fifteen sovereigns. I took the 
 pictures to the carriage which stood at the door, and they 
 departed, leaving me more amazed than I had been by 
 their coming. 
 
 " The second visit was much of the same nature, dif- 
 fering, however, chiefly in the number of persons he 
 brought with him, which was three instead of two ; each 
 one of whom purchased a picture at seven, ten, and thirty- 
 five pounds respectively ; and as before, the party and 
 pictures left together in a splendid carriage with liveried 
 footmen. I longed to know their names, but as Sir Thom- 
 as was silent respecting them I imitated his reticence in 
 restraining my curiosity, and remained in mute astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " The third call of this remarkable man was in conse- 
 quence of my having painted a picture, with the intention 
 of presenting it to the King of England, George IV. 
 This picture was the original of the * English Pheasants 
 Surprised by a Spanish Dog.' I had shown it to Sir 
 Walter Waller, who was his majesty's oculist, and he 
 liked the picture so much, and was so pleased with my 
 intention, as was also my friend Mr. Children, the cura- 
 tor of the British Museum, that they prevailed on Sir 
 Thomas to come and see it. He came, and pushed off 
 my roller easel, bade me hold up the picture, walked 
 from one side of the room to the other examining it, and 
 then coming to me tapped me on the shoulder and said, 
 ^ Mr. Audubon, that picture is too good to be given 
 away ; his majesty would accept it, but you never would 
 be benefitted by the gift more than receiving a letter 
 
Life in London. 153 
 
 from his private secretary, saying that it had been placed 
 in his collection. That picture is worth three hundred 
 guineas : sell it, and do not give it away.' I thanked 
 him, exhibited the picture, refused three hundred guineas 
 for it soon after, kept it several years, and at last sold it 
 for one hundred guineas to my generous friend John 
 Heppenstall of Sheffield, England, and invested the 
 amount in spoons and forks for my good wife. 
 
 " Without the sale of these pictures I was a bank- 
 rupt, when my work was scarcely begun, and in two days 
 more I should have seen all my hopes of the publication 
 blasted ; for Mr. Havell (the engraver) had already called 
 to say that on Saturday I must pay him sixty pounds. 
 I was then not only not worth a penny, but had actually 
 borrowed five pounds a few days before to purchase ma- 
 terials for my pictures. But these pictures which Sir 
 Thomas sold for me enabled me to pay my borrowed 
 money, and to appear full-handed when Mr. Havell call- 
 ed. Thus I passed the Rubicon ! 
 
 " At that time I painted all day, and sold my work 
 during the dusky hours of evening, as I walked through 
 the Strand and other streets where the Jews reigned; 
 popping in and out of Jew-shops or any others, and 
 never refusing the offers made me for the pictures I car- 
 ried fresh from the easel. Startling and surprising as 
 this may seem, it is nevertheless true, and one of the cu- 
 rious events of my most extraordinary life. Let me add 
 here, that I sold seven copies of the * Entrapped Otter ' 
 in London, Manchester, and Liverpool, besides one copy 
 presented to my friend Mr. Richard Rathbone. In other 
 pictures, also, I have sold from seven to ten copies, 
 merely by changing the course of my rambles ; and 
 strange to say, that when in after years and better times 
 I called on the different owners to whom I had sold the 
 copies, I never found a single one in their hands. An^ 
 . 7* 
 
1^4 Life of Audubon. 
 
 I recollect that once, through inadvertence, when I called 
 at a shop where I had sold a copy of the picture, the 
 dealer bought the duplicate at the same price he had 
 given for the first ! What has become of all those pic- 
 tures?" 
 
 About this date Sir Robert Peel returned a letter Au- 
 dubon had brought to him from Lord Meadowbank, and 
 requested him to hand it over to his successor. This 
 Audubon interpreted as giving him to understand that 
 he need trouble him no more. The letter was obtained 
 with the view of gaining a presentation to the king, and 
 Audubon was not a man to easily relinquish an idea or 
 an object which he had once determined on. According- 
 ly, he says, " I made up my mind to go directly to the 
 American minister, Mr. Gallatin, and know from him how 
 I should proceed, and if there were really no chance of 
 my approaching the king nearer than by passing his cas- 
 tle. To pay a visit of this sort in London is really no 
 joke ; but as I thought there was a possibility of it for 
 myself, I wanted to have the opinion of one who I be- 
 lieved was capable of deciding the matter. 
 
 "As I reached his presence he said, laughing, * Al- 
 ways at home, my dear sir, when I am not out.' I un- 
 derstood him perfectly, and explained the object of my 
 visit. His intellectual face lighted up as he replied, 
 * What a simple man you must be to believe all that 
 is said to you about being introduced to his majesty! 
 It is impossible, my dear sir; the king sees nobody; 
 he has the gout, is peevish, and spends his time play- 
 ing whist at a shilling a rubber. I had to w^ait six 
 weeks before I was presented to him in my position 
 of ambassador, and then I merely saw him six or 
 seven minutes. He stood only during the time the 
 public functionaries from foreign countries passed him, 
 and seated himself immediately afterwards, paying 
 
Delay in the Work, 155 
 
 scarcely any attention to the numerous court of Eng- 
 lish noblemen and gentlemen present/ I waited a mo- 
 ment, ^nd said that I thought the Duke of Northumber- 
 land would interest himself for me. Again he laughed, 
 and assured m'e that my attempts there would prove in- 
 effectual. * Think,' continued he ; * I have called hun- 
 dreds of times on like men in England, and been assured 
 that his grace, or lordship, or ladyship, was not at home, 
 until I have grown wiser, and stay at home myself, and 
 merely attend to my political business, and God only 
 knows when I will have done with that It requires 
 written appointments of a month or six weeks before an 
 interview can be obtained.' I then changed the conver- 
 sation to other subjects, but he kindly returned to it 
 again, and said, ' Should the king hold a levee whilst you 
 are here, I will take you to Court, and present you as an 
 American scientific gentleman, but of course would not 
 mention your work.' I remained with him a full hour ; 
 and, as I was about to leave, he asked me for all the 
 cards I had in my case, and said he would use them 
 well, and find me visitors if possible. 
 
 " yune 18. The work on the first number is yet in the 
 hands of Mr. Lizars, in Edinburgh, and this day I re- 
 ceived a letter from him, saying that * the colorers had all 
 stmck work, and that my work was, in consequence, at a 
 stand.' He asked me to try to find some persons here 
 who would engage in that part of the business, and said 
 he would exert himself to make all right again as soon as 
 possible. This was quite a shock to my nerves, and for 
 nearly an hour I deliberated whether I should not go at 
 once to Edinburgh, but an engagement at Lord Spencer's, 
 where I expected a subscriber, decided me to remain. 
 I reached his lordship's house about twelve o'clock, and 
 met there Dr. Walterton and the Rt. Hon. William S. 
 Ponsonby engaged in conversation with Lady Spencer, a 
 
1^6 Life of Audubon, 
 
 fat woman, of extremely engaging and unassuming man- 
 ners. She entered into conversation with me at once 
 about the habits of the wild turkey, how to tame them, 
 and the Hke ; while the gentlemen examined and praised 
 my drawings, and the two lords subscribed for my work ; 
 and I went off rejoicing, between two rows of fine Vvaiters, 
 who seemed to wonder who the devil I could be, that 
 Lady Spencer should shake me by the hand, and accom- 
 pany me to the door. 
 
 " From there I went to Mr. Ponton's, and met Mr. 
 Dibdin, and twenty ladies and gentlemen, who had as- 
 sembled to see my drawings. Here four more sub- 
 scribers were obtained. This, I thought, was a pretty 
 good day's work ; but on returning home I found a note 
 from Mr. Vigors, giving the name of another subscriber, 
 and informing me of the arrival of Charles Bonaparte in 
 the city. I walked to the lodgings of the Prince of 
 Musignano : he was out. I left my card, and soon after 
 my return a servant told me he was below ; I was not 
 long in getting down stairs, and soon grasped his hand ; 
 we were mutually glad to meet on this distant shore. 
 His mustachios and bearded chin and his fine head and 
 eye were all unchanged. He wished to see all my draw- 
 ings, and for almost the only time in England I opened 
 my portfolio with intense pleasure. He said they were 
 worthy to be published, and I felt proud of his opinion. 
 
 " As soon as he had gone my thoughts returned to the 
 colorers, and I started off at once to find some, but with 
 no success ; all the establishments of the kind were 
 closed from want of employment. But happening to pass 
 a print-shop, I inquired if the proprietor knew of any 
 colorers, and he at once gave me the name of one, who 
 offered to work cheaper than I was paying in Edinburgh ; 
 and I wrote instantly to Mr. Lizars to send me twenty- 
 five copies ; and so I hope all will go on well again. 
 
Poverty in London, 1*57 
 
 After a long hunt I entered a long dark alley in search 
 of the colorer's house, to which I had been directed. It 
 was ten o'clock, and after mounting . ,vo stories in search 
 of the man, I knocked, and a little door was opened. 
 The family were surprised by the appearance of a stran- 
 ger, as much as I was by what I saw. A young man was 
 sitting by a small window drawing; a woman whom I 
 took to be his mother was washing a few potatoes in hot 
 water ; a younger woman nursed a child, leaning on the 
 only bed in the room; and six little children, mostly 
 girls, shabby in appearance and sallow in complexion, 
 showed that hunger was not a stranger there. The 
 young man arose, offered me his seat, and asked me po- 
 litely what I wanted. I told him I was looking for a 
 colorer. He replied that he once worked at it, but had 
 abandoned the business, because he was unable to sup- 
 port his large family by it, even to provide them bread 
 and potatoes. He showed me the work he was doing : it 
 was a caricature of Canning, hiding himself behind some 
 Roman Catholic priests, as if listening to their talk ; each 
 one of the priests held a rope in his hand, as if ready to 
 hang their opponents, and the whole proved that the man 
 had a good knowledge of drawing. Just then the moth- 
 er told him breakfast was ready. The poor man begged 
 me to excuse him, saying that he had not tasted anything 
 the day before ; that the potatoes were a present, he 
 would eat soon, and then tell me of some colorers now 
 in the business. I sat silently and saw the food equally 
 divided ; the mother, wife, children, and father soon swal- 
 lowed their share, but it was scarcely enough to appease 
 the hunger of the moment. He gave me as he ate the 
 names of three men, and, pained by the scene before me, 
 I rose to go. Just then the father said to the children 
 and wife, 'It is high time you should go to work,' and 
 asking me at the same time to remain a few moments 
 
1^8 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 longer. The family went off, and I felt relieved to know 
 that they had some employment, and asked him v/hat it 
 was ! He replied, * Begging, sir.* All that family, wife, 
 and half-grown girls, turned out in the streets of London 
 to beg. He assured me that with all their united exer- 
 tions they seldom had more than one meal a day ; and 
 that in an extremity a few days before he had been com- 
 pelled to sell his best bed to pay the rent of his miserable 
 room. Unfortunately I had but a few shillings with me, 
 because I had been advised to carry neither watch nor 
 money in London, and had not the gratification of doing 
 much to relieve him. He said his caricatures brought 
 him in but little, and that despair had prompted him 
 more than once to drown himself, for he was only a 
 v/eight on the neck of his wife and children. Oh ! how 
 sick I am of London. 
 
 " June 21. Received a letter from Mr. Lizars, that he 
 must discontinue my work. Have made an engagement 
 with Mr. Havell for coloring, which I hope will relieve 
 my embarrassment. Have painted a great deal to-day. 
 
 " June 2 2. Am invited to dine at the Royal Society's 
 Club, with Charles Bonaparte. Gave some lessons in 
 drawing to the daughter of Mr. Children, Mrs. Atkins : 
 she has fine talents, but they are not cultivated so highly 
 as Mrs. Edward Roscoe's. This evening Charles Bona- 
 parte came with Lord Clifton, and several other gentle- 
 men to examine my drawings. They were all learned 
 ornithologists, but they all said that there were birds here 
 which they had never dreamed of, and Bonaparte offered 
 to name them for me. I was pleased at the suggestion, 
 and with a pencil he wrote down upwards of fifty names, 
 and invited me to publish them at once in manuscript at 
 the Zoological Society. We had charming discussions 
 about birds and their habits. Oh that, our knowledge 
 could be arranged into a solid mass ! I am sure that 
 
Visit to the Provinces. 159 
 
 then the best ornithological publication of the birds of 
 my beloved country would be produced. I cannot tell 
 you how it strikes me, when I am at Bonaparte's lodg- 
 ings, to hear liis servant call him * Your Royal Highness.* 
 I think it ridiculous in the extreme, and cannot imagine 
 how good Charles can bear it j but probably he does 
 bear it because he is Good Charles. 
 
 *^ ytity 2. I am so completely out of spirits, that I 
 have several times opened my book, held the pen, and 
 felt anxious to write ; but all in vain ; I am too dull, too 
 mournful. 
 
 " I have given the copy of my first number of the 
 Birds to Mr. Children, a proof : it is the only one in ex- 
 istence, for which he paid me the price of all the sub- 
 scribers, i. e., two guineas, and I may say with safety 
 that the t\vo guineas are the only two I have had on ac- 
 count of that work. I have finished another picture of 
 the Rabbits, and am glad of it ; it is all my consolation. 
 I wish I were out of London." 
 
 But it does not appear that Audubon's despondency 
 lasted very long. He dispelled it by a sudden rush into 
 the provinces, where he was well received by former 
 friends. From an entry made at Leeds on September 30, 
 it is clear that even in London the sun had begun to 
 shine out again. 
 
 " Nearly three months since I touched one of the 
 sheets of my dear book. And I am quite ashamed of it, 
 for I have had several interesting incidents to record, 
 v.'ell deserving of relation, even in my poor humble style 
 — a style much resembling my painimg in oil. Now, 
 nevertheless, I will recapitulate and note down as quick- 
 ly as possible the primary ones. 
 
 " I. I removed the publication of my ornithological 
 work from Edinburgh to London ; from Mr. Lizars to 
 Mr. Robert Havell, No. 79 Newman street ; because at 
 
i6o Life of Audubon, 
 
 Edinburgh it came on too slowly, and also because I can 
 have it done better and cheaper in London. 
 
 ** 2. The King ! My dear Book ! Had my work pre- 
 sented to his Majesty by Sir Walter AValler, Bart, K. C. 
 H., at the request of my most excellent friend J. P. Chil- 
 dren, of the British Museum. His Majesty was pleased 
 to call it fine, and permitted me to publish it under his 
 particular patronage, approbation, and protection; and 
 became a subscriber on usual terms, not as kings gener- 
 ally do, but as a gentleman. And I look on such a deed 
 as worthy of all kings in general. The Duchess of Cla- 
 rence also put down her name ; and all my friends speak 
 as if a mountain of sovereigns had dropped in an ample 
 purse at once — and for me /" 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Visit to Paris — Baron Cuvier — Reception at^ the Academy of Sci* 
 ences — Visits to Great Officials — Poverty of French Academy — 
 More of Cuvierand his Home — Great Gathering at the Institute ~~ 
 The Report quoted — The Duke of Orleans — Farrwell to France. 
 
 N September ist, i828, Audubon quitted London 
 for Paris, and liis diary freshens a little after the 
 salt breeze of the Channel. Much space, how- 
 ever, is as usual devoted to matters quite trivial in them- 
 selves, and not likely to interest any circle beyond the 
 little domestic one for which the pages were intended. 
 The enjoyment of fresh scenes is youthful and honest — 
 quite unlike the pleasure of more sophisticated persons. 
 On arriving in Paris, his first visit was to the Jardin 
 des Plantes, and to the great Cuvier. We shall select in 
 series his notes on this and other matters, suppressing, as 
 before, all the utterly pointless matter which fills up the 
 diary under so many a date. 
 
 " We knocked, and asked for Baron Cuvier : he was 
 in, but we were told was too busy to be seen. However, 
 being determined to look at the great man, we waited and 
 knocked again, and with a degree of firmness sent up 
 our names. The messenger returned, bowed and led us 
 upstairs, where, in a minute. Monsieur le Baron, like an 
 excellent good man, came to us. He had heard much of 
 my friend Swainson, and greeted him as he deserves, and 
 was polite and kind to me, although he had never heard 
 of me before. I looked at him, and here follows the re- 
 sult. Age about sixty-five ; size, corpulent, five feet and 
 five, English measure ; head large, face wrinkled and 
 
1 62 Life of Audubon, 
 
 brownish; eyes, very brilliant and sparkling; nose, 
 aquiline, large, and red ; mouth, large, with good lips ; 
 teeth, few, and blunted by age, excepting one on the low- 
 er jaw, which was massive, measuring nearly three-quar- 
 ters of an inch square. This was Baron Cuvier ; I have 
 described him almost as if a new species of a man, from 
 the mere skin. But as he has invited us to dine with 
 him next Saturday at six o'clock, and I expect to have an 
 opportunity of seeing more of him, I will then describe 
 his habits as far as I am able. 
 
 ^^ September 5. After a breakfast of grapes, figs, 
 sardines, and French coffee, friend Swainson and I pro- 
 ceeded to the Jardin des Plantes, by the side of the river 
 Seine, which here, Lucy, is not so large as the Bayou 
 Sara, where I have often watched the alligators while 
 bathing. Walking in Paris is disagreeable in the ex- 
 treme. The streets are actually paved, but with scarcely 
 a sidewalk, u^■'. a large gutter filled with dirty black wa- 
 ter runs thicigh the centre of each, and the people go 
 about without any kind of order, either along the centre, 
 or near the houses ; carriages, carts, and so forth do the 
 same, and I have wondered that so few accidents take 
 place. We saw a very ugly iron bridge at the entrance 
 called Pont Neuf, where stands the splendid statue of 
 Henry IV. We were more attracted, however, by the 
 sight of the immense number of birds offered for sale 
 along the quays, and saw some rare specimens. A 
 woman took us into her house, and showed us some hun- 
 dreds from Bengal and Senegal, which quite surprised us. 
 
 "Weary with walking, we took a cabriolet, that 
 brought us for twenty-five sous, to the Jardin, and we went 
 to our appointment with Baron Cuvier. We saw him, and 
 he gave us a ticket to admit us to the Musde, and prom- 
 ised us all we wished. In the Mus^e, M. Valencienne was 
 equally kind. Having in my pocket a letter of introduc- 
 
Baron Cuvier. 163 
 
 tion to Geoffiroy de St. Hilaire, we went to his house in 
 the gardens, and with him we were particularly pleased. 
 He offered his services with good grace, much as an Eng- 
 lish gentleman would have done. M. Geoffroy proved to 
 us that he understood the difference of ideas existing be- 
 tween English and Frenchmen perfectly. He repeated 
 the words of Cuvier, and assured us that my work had 
 never been heard of anywhere in France. He promised 
 to take us to the Academy of Sciences on Monday next. 
 " We finally reachea home, dressed, and started to 
 dine with Baron Cuvier. We arrived within a minute of 
 the appointed time, were announced by a servant in liv- 
 er}', as in England, and the Baron received and presented 
 us kindly to his only daughter, a small, well-made, good- 
 looking lady, with black sparkling eyes, and altogether 
 extremely amiable. As I seldom go anywhere without 
 meeting some person I have known elsewhere, so it 
 proved here. I found among the company which had 
 arrived before me a Fellow of the Linnaean Society, who 
 knew me, and who seemed to have spoken to the Baron 
 and his daughter of my v:ork ; and I now perceived a de- 
 gree of attention from him which I had not noticed at my 
 first interview. The Baroness came in, an old, good, 
 motherly-looking lady, and the company, sixteen in num- 
 ber, being present, dinner v/as announced. The Baroness 
 led the way with a gentleman, the Baron took his daugh- 
 ter under his arm, but made Mr. Swainson and myself go 
 before him; and so the company all followed. Mr. 
 Swainson was seated next to Mademoiselle Cuvier, who, 
 fortunately for him, speaks excellent English. I was op- 
 posite her, by the side of the Baron, and had at my right 
 elbow the F. L. S. There was not the same show of 
 opulence at this dinner that I have seen in the same 
 rank in England — no, not by any means ; but we had a 
 good dinner, sensed k la Fran^aise : all seemed happy. 
 
1 64 Life of Audubon, 
 
 and all went on with more simplicity than in London. 
 The waiter who handed the wine called out the names of 
 three or four different sorts, and each person had his 
 choice. The dinner finished (I mean the eating part), 
 the Baroness rose, and all followed her into the draw- 
 ing room, which is the library of the Baron ; and I 
 liked it much, for I cannot bear the drinking-matches 
 of wine at the English tables. We had coffee, and 
 the company increased rapidly; and among the new 
 comers were my acquaintances Captain Parry, Monsieur 
 Condillot, and Mr. Lesson, just returned from a voyage 
 round the world. Cuvier stuck to Mr. Swainson and my- 
 self, and we talked ornithology : he asked the price of 
 my work, and I gave him a prospectus. The company 
 now filled the room, and as it grew^ late, and we had near- 
 ly five miles to ride we left h, la PYangaise, very well satis- 
 fied with this introductory step among the savans Fran- 
 gais. 
 
 " Septemher 8. AVent to pay my respects to Baron 
 Cuvier and Geoffroy St. Hilaire ; found only the former 
 at home ; he invited me to the Royal Institute, and I had 
 just time to return home and reach it before the sitting 
 of the Royal Academie des Sciences. I took my port- 
 folio, and, on entering, inquired for Cuvier, who very 
 politely came to me, made the porter put my book on 
 the table, and assigned me a seat of honor. The stance 
 opened, and a tedious lecture was delivered on the vision 
 of the mole. Mr. Swainson accompanied me. Baron 
 Cuvier then arose, and announced us and spoke of my 
 work. It was shown and admired as usual, and Cuvier 
 was requested to review it for the memoirs of the Acade- 
 my. Cuvier asked me to leave my book. I did, and he 
 commended it to the particular care of the librarians, 
 who are to show it to any who desire to see it; he also 
 said he would propose to the Academy to subscribe to it, 
 and if so, it will be a good day's w^ork. 
 
The Louvre, 165 
 
 " September 9. Went to the Jardin du Roi, where I met 
 young Geoffroy, who took me to a man who stuffs birds 
 for the Prince d'Esshng. He told mc the Prince had a 
 copy of my work (probably Wilson's or Selby's), and 
 said he would subscribe if I would call on him to-nior- 
 row with him. After this I walked around the boule- 
 vards, looking at the strange things I saw there, thinking 
 of my own strange life, and how wonderful my present 
 situation in the land of my father and ancestors. From 
 here I went to the Louvre, and as I w-as about to pass the 
 gates of the Tuileries, a sentinel stopped me, saying no 
 one could enter there with a fur cap, I w^ent to another 
 gate, and passed without challenge, and went to the 
 Grand Gallery. There, among the , Raphaels, and Cor- 
 reggios, Titians, Davids, and thousands of others, I 
 feasted my eyes and enlarged my knowledge. From 
 there I made my w^ay to the Institut de France, and by 
 appointment presented my prospectus to the secretary of 
 the library. There I met young Geoffroy, an amiable 
 and learned young man, who examined my work, paid 
 me every attention, and gave me a room to myself for the 
 inspection of specimens and to write in. How very dif- 
 ferent from the public institutions in England, where, 
 instead of being bowed to, you have to bow to every one. 
 The porters, clerks, and secretaries had all received orders 
 to do everything I required, and I was looked upon with 
 the greatest respect. I have now run the gauntlet of 
 Europe, Lucy, and may be proud of two things — that I 
 am considered the first ornithological painter and the 
 first practical naturalist of America ! 
 
 " September 10. Called on the bird-stuffer of the Prince 
 d'Essling, who proposed to take me to the Prince's town 
 residence. We were conducted into his museum, which 
 surpasses in magnificence, and in the number of rare 
 specimens of birds, shells, and books, all I have yei 
 
 i 
 
1 66 Life of Audubon. 
 
 seen. We strolled about for a while, when word was 
 sent us, that the Prince being indisposed, we must go to 
 him. I took my pamphlet in my hand, and entered a 
 fine room, where he lay reclining on a sofa ; but on 
 seeing me, he rose up, bowed, and presented me to his 
 beautiful young wife. While untying my book, both of 
 them asked me some questions, and looked at me with 
 seeming curiosity ; but as soon as a print was seen, they 
 both exclaimed, * Ah, c'est bien beau ! ' and then asked 
 me if I did not know Charles Bonaparte. And when I 
 answered * Yes,' they both again said, * Ah, it is the same 
 gentleman of whom we have heard so much, the Man of 
 the Woods ; the drawings are all made by him,* etc. The 
 Prince said that he regretted very much that so few per- 
 sons in France were able to subscribe to such a work, 
 and that I must not expect more than six or eight names 
 in Paris. He named all those whom he or his lady knew, 
 and told me it would give him pleasure to add his name 
 to my list. I drew it out, opened it, and asked him to 
 write it himself: this he did with a good grace, next 
 under the Duke of Rutland. This Prince, son of the 
 famous Marshal Massena, is thirty years of age, appa- 
 rently delicate, pale, slender, and yet good-looking, 
 entirely devoted to Natural History. His wife is a 
 beautiful young woman of about twenty, extremely grace- 
 ful and polite. They both complimented me on the 
 purity of my French, and wished me all the success I 
 deserved. I went back to my friend in the cabinet, well 
 contented, and we returned to our lodgings. Not liking 
 our rooms at our hotel, to-day I shall remove to the Hotel 
 de France, where I have a large, clean, and comfortable 
 room, and pay twenty-five sous per day. But I must tell 
 thee that in France, although a man may be a prince or 
 duke, he is called simply monsieur, and his lady, madam, 
 and all are as easy of access as men without a great 
 
Library of the King, 167 
 
 name : this made me quite at my ease with Prince 
 d'Essling. 
 
 " September 11. I have been travelling all over Paris 
 to-day, and have accomplished nothing. Called on M. 
 Geoffroy St. Hilaire, and he gave me some good advice 
 and directions respecting obtaining the King's subscrip- 
 tion, and others. 
 
 ^^ September 12. Visited, at his library, the librarian 
 of the king, M. Van Praet, a small and white-haired gen- 
 tleman, who assured me in the politest manner imagina- 
 ble that it was out of the question to subscribe for so 
 heavy a work. He however gave me a card to introduce 
 me to M. Barbier, a librarian belonging to the king's pri- 
 vate library at the Louvre. Here I learned that the inland 
 postage of a single letter from Paris to London is tsventy- 
 four sous ; there is a mail to London four times a week. 
 After some trouble I found the library of the king, be- 
 cause I followed the direction * toujours tout droit,' until 
 quite out of latitude and longitude by tacking and retack- 
 ing; but at last I reached the place, and entered a gate 
 fronting the river, and found M. Barbier absent. But 
 later in the day I found him ; and he, not being able to 
 say anything definite himself, referred me to the Baron de 
 Boullerie, intendant of the king's household. I wrote to 
 him in French, the first letter I have written in this Ian- 
 guage in twent}^-five years, and I dare say a very curious 
 one to such a personage as he is. 
 
 " September 13. Took my portfolio to Geoffroy de 
 St. Hilaire, and then to Baron Cuvier ; the former, after 
 examining it, retracted his opinion respecting its size, and 
 expressed himself pleased with it. A Mons. Dumesnil, a 
 French engraver, was sent to me by Prince d'Essling, and 
 I learned from him that my work could be done better and 
 at less expense in England than in France. Copper is 
 dearer here than in England, and good colorers much 
 
1 68 Life of Audubon. 
 
 more scarce. I have just returned with friend Swainson 
 from Baron Cuvier's, who gives receptions to scientific 
 men every Saturday. My book was on the table, and 
 Cuvier received me with especial kindness, and put me 
 at ease. Mons. Condillot I found remarkably amiable, 
 and the company was much the same as on last Saturday. 
 I found much pleasure in conversation with Cuvier and 
 M. de Condillot. The former willingly assented to sit to 
 Mr. Parker for his portrait, and the other told me if I 
 visited Italy I must make his house my home. My work 
 was examined, and Cuvier pronounced it the finest in 
 existence of the kind. As we attempted to make our 
 escape, Cuvier noticed us, ran and took us by the hand, 
 and wished us to return ; but we had a long and dark 
 walk before us, and on that ground excused ourselves. 
 
 ^^ September 1^. France is poor indeed ! This day I 
 have attended the Royal Academy of Sciences, and had 
 my plates examined by about one hundred persons. 
 * Fine, very fine !' issued from many mouths ; but they 
 said also, ^ What a work ! what a price ! who can pay it ?' 
 I recollected that I had thirty subscribers at Manches- 
 ter, and mentioned it. They stared, and seemed sur- 
 prised; but acknowledged that England, the little island 
 of England, alone was able to support poor Audubon. 
 Some went so far as to say that, had I been here 
 four months ago, I should not have had even the 
 Prince d'Essling for a subscriber. Poor France, thy 
 fine climate, rich vineyards, and the wishes of the learn- 
 ed avail nothing ; thou art a destitute beggar, and not 
 the powerful friend thou wert rej^resentcd to me. Now 
 it is that I plainly see how happy, or lucky, it was 
 in me not to have come to France first ; for if I had, my 
 work now v.ould not have had even a beginning. It 
 would have perished like a flower in October ; and I 
 should have returned \o my woods, without the hope of 
 
Baron Cuvier, i6g 
 
 leaving beliind that eternal fame which my ambition, in- 
 dustry, and perseverance, long to enjoy. Not a sub- 
 scriber, Lucy ; no, not one ! 
 
 " I have also been again at Cuvier's to-day, to in- 
 troduce Mr. Parker, to begin his portrait. You would 
 like to hear more of Cuvier and his house. Well, we 
 rang the bell, and a waiter came, and desired that we 
 would wipe our feet ; we needed it, for we were veiy 
 muddy. This over, we followed the man up-stairs, and 
 in the first room we entered I saw a slight figure in black 
 gliding out at an opposite door like a sylph. It was Miss 
 Cuvier, not quite ready to receive company. Off she 
 flew, like a dove before falcons. However, we followed 
 our man, who every moment turned to us and repeated, 
 ' This way, gentlemen.' Then we passed through eight 
 rooms filled with beds or books, and at last reached a 
 sort of laboratory, the sanctum sanctorum of Cuvier ; 
 nothing there but books, the skeletons of animals, and 
 reptiles. Our conductor bid us sit, and left us to seek 
 for the Baron. My eyes were occupied in the interval in 
 examining the study of this great man, and my mind in 
 reflecting on the wonders of his knowledge. All but or- 
 der was about his books, and I concluded that he read 
 and studied, and was not fond of books because he was 
 the owner of them, as some great men seem to be whom 
 I have known. Our conductor returned directly, and led 
 us to another laboratorv, where we found the Baron. 
 Great men show politeness in a particular way; they re- 
 ceive you without much demonstration ; a smile suffices 
 to assure you that you are welcome, and keep about 
 their avocations as if you were a member of the family." 
 
 "Parker was introduced while Cuvier was looking at a 
 
 small lizard, through a vial ofsi)irits thai contained it. I 
 
 :ee now his speaking eye, half closed, as M quizzing 
 
 its qualities, and as he wrote ts name with a pencil on a 
 
 8 
 
lyo Life of Auduhon, 
 
 label, he bowed his body in acquiescence. 'Come and 
 breakfast with me, Mr. Parker, on Thursday next, at ten 
 o'clock, and I will be your man j' and on he went quizzing 
 more lizards. 
 
 " September i8. Went with Parker to Baron Cuvier's. 
 We met Miss Cuvier, who had made all preparations to re- 
 ceive us. The Baron came in and seated himself in a 
 comfortable arm-chair. Great men, as well as great 
 women, have their share of vanity, and I soon discovered 
 that the Baron thinks himself a fine-looking man. His 
 daughter seemed to understand this, and remarked more 
 than once, that her fiither had his under lip much more 
 swelled than usual ; and she added that the line of his 
 nose was extremely fine. I passed my fingers over mine, 
 and, lo ! I thought just the same. I see the Baron now 
 quite as plainly as I did this morning, an old green 
 surtout about him, a neckcloth, that would have wrapped 
 his whole body if unfolded, loosely tied about his chin, 
 and his silver locks looking like those of a man who 
 loves to study books better than to visit barbers. His 
 fine eye glistened froni under his thick eyebrows, and he 
 smiled as he spoke to me. Miss Cuvier is a. most agree- 
 able lady, and opening a book, she asked to read aloud 
 to us all ; and on she went in a clear, well-accented tone, 
 from a comic play, well calculated to amuse us for the 
 time, and during the monotony of sitting for a j^ortrait, 
 which is always a great bore. Mrs. Cuvier joined us, and 
 I noticed her expression was one of general sadness, and 
 she listened with a melancholy air that depressed my own 
 spirits. The Baroii soon expressed himself fatigued, and 
 went out, and I advised Parker to keej) him as short a 
 time as possible. We were in one of his libraries, and 
 he asked his daughter to show us two portraits of himself, 
 painted some ten years a;;o. Tlicy were only so so. 
 Meanwhile the Baron named next Thursday for anotlicr 
 sitting. 
 
Redoute 
 
 171 
 
 " September 20. This morning I had the pleasure of 
 seeing the venerable Rodouttf, the flower -painter /^zrr.vrt'/- 
 ience. After reading Lesueur's note to him, dated five 
 years ago, he looked at me fixedly, and said, ' Well, sir, I 
 am truly glad to become acquainted with you ;' and with- 
 out further ceremony he showed me his best works. His 
 flowers are grouped with peculiar taste, well drawn and 
 precise in the outlines, and colored with a pure brilliancy, 
 which resembles Nature immeasurably better than I ever 
 saw it before. Redouttf dislikes all that is not pure Na- 
 ture ; he cannot bear drawings of stuffed birds or 
 quadrupeds, and expressed a desire to see a work where- 
 in Nature is delineated in an animated v;ay. He said he 
 dined every Friday at the Duke of Orleans' ; he 
 would take my work there next week, and obtain his sub- 
 scription, if not the Duchess' also. He asked for a pro- 
 spectus, and invited me to return next Wednesday. I 
 looked over hundreds of his drawings, and learned that 
 he sold them at high prices, some as high as two hun- 
 dred and fifty guineas. On my way home I met the sec- 
 retary of the king's library, who told me that the Baron de 
 la Boulleric had given orders to have my work inspected, 
 and if approved, to subscribe for it. I have found that 
 letters of introduction are not as useful here as in Eng- 
 land. (.Aivier, to whom I had no letter, and to whom my 
 name was unknown b'jfore my arrival, is the only man who 
 has yet invited me to his house. I wished to go this 
 evening to his scientific soiree, to which he invited me, 
 but 1 did not, because I have been two successive Sat- 
 urdays, and I am afraid of intruding, althouirh the rude 
 awkwardness I formerly felt has worn nearly smooth. 
 
 ^^ September 22. This was the grand day app(Vinlcd 
 l)y Baron Cuvier for reading his report on my work at the 
 rrench Institute. The French Institute! Sliall I call 
 it superior to the Royal Academy of London ? I cannot 
 
iy2 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 better answer the interrogation, than by the reports of; 
 the presidents of these institutions on my work. By par- 
 ticular invitation of the Baron, I was at the Institute at 
 half-past one, and no Baron there. I sat opposite the 
 clock, and counted the minutes one after another ; but 
 the clock, insensible to my impatience, moved regularly, 
 and ticked its time just as if Audubon had never existed. 
 I undertook to count the numerous volumes which filled 
 the compartments of the library, but my eye became be • 
 wildered, and as it reached the distant centre of the hall, 
 rested on the figure of Voltaire ! Poor Voltaire ! had 
 he not his own share of troubles ? how was he treated ? 
 Savants like shadows passed before me, nodded, and 
 proceeded to their seats, and resting their heads on their 
 hands, looked for more knowledge in different memoirs. 
 I, Lucy, began journeying to America, sailed up its riv- 
 ers, across its lakes, along its coasts, and up the Missis- 
 sippi, until I reached Bayou Sara, and leaping on shore, 
 and traversing the magnolia forests, bounded towards 
 thee, my dearest friend, — when the clock struck, and sud- 
 denly called me to myself in the Royal Institute, patient- 
 ly waiting for the Baron. 
 
 " The number of savants increased, and my watch and 
 the clock told that the day was waning. I took a book 
 and read, but it went into my mind and left no impres- 
 sion. The savants increased more and more, and by-and- 
 by among them my quick eye discerns the Baron. I had 
 been asked fifty times if I were waiting for him, and had 
 been advised to go to his house ; but I sat and watched 
 like a sentinel at his post. I heard his voice and his 
 footstep, and at last saw him, warm, apparently fatigued, 
 and yet extremely kindly, coming towards me, with a 
 * My dear sir, I am sorry to know that you have waited so 
 long here ; I was in my cabinet ; come with me.' During 
 all this talk, to which I bowed, and followed him, his hand 
 
The ^^ Institute Subscribes, 173 
 
 was driving a pencil with great rapidity, and I discov- 
 ered that he was actually engaged in making his report. 
 I thought of La Fontaine's * Fable of the Turtle and the 
 Hare,' and of many other things j and I was surprised 
 that so great a man, who, of course, being great, must 
 take care of each of his actions with a thousand times 
 more care than a common individual, to prevent falls, 
 when surrounded, as all great men are, by en\y, cow- 
 ardice, malice, and all other evil spirits, should leave to 
 the last moment the writing of a report, to every word of 
 which the * Forty of France' would lend a critical ear. We 
 were now in his cabinet ; my enormous book lay before 
 him, and I shifted swiftly the different plates that he had 
 marked for examination. His pencil kept constantly 
 moving ; he turned and returned the sheets of his 
 pamphlet with amazing accuracy, and noted as quickly as 
 he saw all that he saw. We were both wet with perspira- 
 tion. When this was done, he invited me to call on him 
 to-morrow at half-past ten, and went off towards the 
 council-room. 
 
 " Septc77iber 23. I waited in Cuvier's departmental 
 section until past eleven, when he came in, as much in a 
 hurry as ever, and yet as kind as ever, always the per- 
 ' feet gentleman. The report had been read, and the In- 
 stitute, he said, had subscribed for one copy ; and he 
 told me the report would appear in next Saturday's 
 * Globe.' I called on M. Feuillet, principal librarian of 
 the Institute, to inquire how I was to receive tlie sub- 
 scription. He is a large, stout man, had on a hunting- 
 cap, and began by assuring me that the Institute was in 
 the habit of receiving a discount on all the works it takes. 
 My upper lip curled, not with pleasure, but with a sneer 
 at such a request ; and I told the gentleman that I nev- 
 er made discounts on a work which cost me a life of much 
 trouble and too much expense ever to be remunerated j 
 so the matter dropped. 
 
174 Life of Audubon. 
 
 " September 24. To-day I was told that Gerard, the. 
 great Gerard, the pupil of my old master David, wished 
 to see me and my works. I propose to visit him to-mor- 
 row. 
 
 ^^ September 25. I have trotted from pillar to post 
 through this big town, from the Palais Royal to the Jar- 
 din du Luxembourg, in search of Mons. Le Mddecin Ber- 
 trand, after a copy of Cuvier's Report ; such is man, all 
 avaricious of praise by nature. Three times did I go to 
 the * Globe ' office, from places three miles apart, until at 
 last, wearied and brought to bay, I gave up the chase. 
 At last I went to the king's library, and I learned from 
 the librarian, a perfect gentleman, that the court had in- 
 spected my work, and were delighted with it ; and he told 
 me that kings were not generally expected to pay for 
 works ; and I gave him to understand that I was able 
 to keep the work if the king did not purchase. 
 
 " To-day I saw the original copy of Cuvier's report on 
 my work. It is quite an eulogium, but not as feelingly 
 written as Mr. Swainson's ; nevertheless, it will give the 
 French an idea of my work, and may do good. 
 
 " The following is an extract translated from the re- 
 port : — 
 
 " * The Academy of Sciences have requested me to 
 make a verbal report on the work of Mr. Audubon, laid 
 before it at a former session, on the " Birds of North 
 America." It may be described in a few words as the 
 most magnificie- t monument which has yet been erected 
 ♦^^o ornithology. J he author, born in Louisiana, and devot- 
 ed from his youth to painting, was twenty-five years ago 
 a pupil in tlie school of David. Having returned to his 
 own country, he thought he could not make abetter use of 
 his talents than by representing the most brilliant pro- 
 ductions of that hemisphere. The accurate observation 
 necessary for such representations as he wished to make 
 soon rendered him a naturalist. 
 
Report of the Academy, 175 
 
 " * It IS in this double capacity of artist and savant 
 that he produced the work, which has been offered to the 
 inspection of the Academy. You have been struck by 
 the size of the book, which is equal or superior to the 
 largest of that kind that has ever been published, and is 
 nearly as large as the double plates of the Description of 
 Egypt. This extraordinary dimension has enabled him 
 to give specimens of the eagle and vulture of their natu- 
 ral size, and to multiply those which are smaller in such a 
 manner as to represent them in every attitude. 
 
 " * He was thus able to represent on the same plates, 
 and of the natural size, the plants which these birds most 
 commonly frequent, and to give the fullest detail of their 
 nests and eggs. 
 
 " ' The execution of these plates, so remarkable for 
 their size, appears to have succeeded equally well with 
 regard to the drawing, the engraving, and the coloring. 
 And although it is difficult in coloring to give perspec- 
 tives with as much effect as in painting, properly so call- 
 ed, that is no defect in a work on natural history. Natu- 
 ralists prefer the real color of objects to those accidental 
 tints which are the result of the varied reflections of light 
 necessary to complete picturesque representations, but 
 foreign and even injurious to scientific truth. 
 
 " * Mr. Audubon has already prepared four hundred 
 drawings, which contain nearly iwo thousand figures, and 
 he proposes to publish them successively if he receives 
 sufficient encouragement from lovers of science. A work 
 conceived and executed on so vast a plan has but one 
 fault, and doubtless in that respect my auditors have al- 
 ready anticipated me ; it is that its expense renders it al- 
 most inaccessible to the greater part of those to whom it 
 would be most necessary. It certainly cannot be said 
 that the price is exorbitant. One number of five plates 
 costs two guineas ; each plate comes to only ten or 
 
176 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 twelve francs. As there will be published but five num- 
 bers a year, the annual expense would not be enormous. 
 It is desirable, at least for art as well as science, that the 
 great public libraries — and the wealthy, who love to en 
 rich their collections with works of luxur}' — should be 
 willing to secure it. 
 
 *' ' Formerly the European naturalists were obliged to 
 make known to America the riches she possessed ; but 
 now Mitchell, Harler, and Bonaparte give back with in- 
 terest to Europe what America had received. Wilson's 
 history of the " Birds of the United States " equals in el- 
 egance our most beautiful works on ornithology. If that 
 of Mr. Audubon should be completed, we shall be obliged 
 to acknowledge that America, in magnificence of execu- 
 tion, has surpassed th:.' old world.' 
 
 " September 30. Mr. Coutant, the great engraver of 
 Paris, came to see my work to-day. When I opened the 
 book he stared ; and as I turned over the engravings, he 
 exclaimed often ^ Oh, mon Dieu ! quel ouvrage ! ' Old 
 Redoute also visited me, and brought an answer to my 
 letter from the Due d'Orleans. At one o'clock I went 
 with my portfolio to the Palais Royal ; and as I do not 
 see dukes every day, dearest, I will give you an account 
 of my visit. 
 
 " The Palais Royal of the Duke of Orleans is actually 
 the entrance of the Palais Royal, the public walk to 
 which we go almost every evening, and which is guarded 
 by many sentinels. On the right I saw a large, fat, red- 
 coated man, through the ground window, whom I sup- 
 posed to be the porter of his Royal Highness : he opened 
 the door, and I took off my fur cap, and walked in with- 
 out ceremony. I gave him my card, and requested him 
 to send it up-stairs. He said Monseigneur was not in, 
 but I might go into the antechamber, and I ascended 
 one of the finest staircases my feet had ever trod. They 
 
"The Duke of Orleans, 177 
 
 parted at the bottom, in a pounding form of about twenty- 
 four feet in breadth, to meet on the second-floor, on a 
 platform, lighted by a skylight, showing the beauties of 
 the surrounding walks, and in front of which were three 
 doors, two of which I tried in vain to open. The third, 
 however, gave way, and I found myself in the outer ante- 
 chamber, with about twelve servants, who all rose up and 
 stood until I seated myself on a soft, red, velvet-covered 
 bench. Not a word was said to me, and I gazed on the 
 men and place with a strange sensation of awkwardness. 
 Tlic v.alls were bare, the floor black and white squares 
 of marl^le, over which a sergeant paced, wearing a broad 
 belt. I waited some minutes, looking on this dumb 
 show, and wondering how long it would last, when I ac- 
 costed the sergeant, and told him I wished to see the 
 duke, and that I had come here by his order. He 
 made a profound bow, and conducted me to another 
 room, where several gentlemen were seated writing. I 
 told one of them my errand, and he immediately showed 
 me into an immense and elegantly-furnished apartment, 
 and ordered my book to be brought up. . In this room I 
 bowed to two gentlemen whom I knew belonged to the 
 Legion of Honor, and walked about, examining the fine 
 marble statues and pictures. A gentleman soon entered 
 the room, and coming towards me with an agreeable 
 smile, asked if perchance my name was Audubon. I 
 bowed, and he replied, * Bless me, we thought you had 
 gone, and left your portfolio. My uncle has been wait- 
 ing for you twenty minutes ; pray, sir, follow me.' We 
 entered another room, and I saw the duke approaching 
 me, and was introduced to him by his nephew. I do not 
 rec /Uect ever having seen a finer man, in form, deport- 
 n.ciit, and elegant manners, than this Duke of Orleans. 
 He had my book brought in, and helped me to untie the 
 strings and arrange the table, and began by saying that 
 8* 
 
lyS Life of Auduhon. 
 
 he felt a great pleasure in subscribing to the work of an 
 American ; that he had been kindly treated in the United 
 States, and would never forget it. When the portfolio 
 was opened, and I held up the plate of the Baltimore 
 oriole, with a nest swinging amongst the tender twigs of 
 the yellow poplar, he said, * This surpasses all I have 
 seen, and I am not astonished now at the eulogium of ^I. 
 Redout^.' He spoke partly in English and partly in 
 French, and said much of America, of Pittsburg, the 
 Ohio, New Orleans, the Mississippi and its steamboats ; 
 and then added, * You are a great and noble nation, a 
 wonderful nation ! ' The duke promised to write to the 
 Emperor of Austria for me, and to the King of Sweden, 
 and other crowned heads, and to invite them to subscribe, 
 and requested me to send a note to-day to the Minister 
 of the Interior. I remained talking with him and his 
 nephew more than an hour. I asked him to give me his 
 own signature on my list of subscribers. He smiled, 
 took it, and wrote, in very legible letters, * Le Due d'Or- 
 leans.' I now thought that to remain any longer would 
 be an intrusion, and thanking him respectfully, I bowed, 
 shook hands, and retired. As I passed down the serv- 
 ants stared at me with astonishment, wondering, doubt- 
 less, what could have obtained me so long and intimate 
 an interv^iew with their master. 
 
 " October i. Called to-day on M. Gerard, of whom 
 France may boast without a blush. It was ten o'clock 
 when I reached his hotel ; but as he is an Italian, 
 born at Rome, and retains the habits of his countiy- 
 men, keeps late hours, and seldom takes his tea be- 
 fore one o'clock in the morning, I found him just up, and 
 beginning his day's work. When I entered his rooms 
 they were filled with persons of both sexes, and as soon 
 as my name was announced, Gerard, a small, well-formed 
 man, came towards me, took my hand, and said, * Wei- 
 
Visits M, Gerard, 179 
 
 come, brother in arts !" I liked this much, and felt grath 
 fied to have broken the ice so easily, and my perspira- 
 tion subsided. 
 
 "Gerard was all curiosity to see my drawings, and 
 old Redoutid, who was also present, came to me and 
 spoke so highly of them before they were opened, that I 
 feared Gerard would be disappointed. However, the 
 book was opened accidentally at the plate of the parrots, 
 and Gerard, taking it up without speaking, looked at it 
 with an eye as critical as my own for several minutes, put 
 it down, and took up the mocking-birds, and then offer- 
 ing me his hand, said, * Mr. Audubon, you are the king 
 of ornithological painters. We are all children in France 
 or Europe. Who would have expected such things from 
 the woods of America ! ' I received compliments on all 
 sides, and Gerard talked of nothing but my work, and 
 asked me to give him some prospectuses to send to Italy. 
 He also repeated what Baron Cuvier had said in the 
 morning, and hoped that the Minister would order a num- 
 ber of copies for the government. I closed the book, and 
 sauntered around the room, adniiring the superb prints, 
 mostly taken from his own paintings. The ladies were 
 all engaged at cards, and money did not appear to be 
 scarce in this part of Paris. Mrs. Gerard is a small, fat- 
 tish woman, to whom I made a bow, and saw but for a mo- 
 ment. The ladies were dressed very finely, quite in a new 
 fashion to me, pointed corsets before,, with some hanging 
 trimmings, and very full robes of rich and differently-col- 
 ored satins and other materials. 
 
 ^^ October 20. Nothing to do, and fatigued with look- 
 ing at Paris. Four subscriptions in seven weeks is very 
 
 slow work The stock-pigeon, or cushat, roosts 
 
 in the trees of the garden of the Tuileries in considerable 
 numbers. They arrive about sunset, settle at first on the 
 highest trees and driest naked branches, then gradually 
 
1 8o Life of Audubon. 
 
 lower themselves to the trunks of the trees and the thick- 
 est parts of the foliage, and remain there all night. They 
 leave at the break of day, and fly off in a nortlierly di- 
 rection. Blackbirds also do the same, and are extreme- 
 ly noisy before dark ; some few rooks and magpies are 
 seen there also. In the Jardin or walks of the Palais 
 Royal the common sparrows are prodigiously plentiful ; 
 very tame, fed by ladies and children, and often killed 
 with blowguns by mischievous boys. The mountain 
 finch passes in scattered numbers over Paris at this season, 
 going northerly. And now, my love, wouldst thou not 
 believe me once more in the woods, and hard at it? 
 Alas ! I wish I were. What precious time I am losing in 
 this Europe ! When shall I go home ? 
 
 " October 26. I have not written for several days, be- 
 cause I have been waiting, and had no inclination. 
 Meanwhile a note came from Baron de la Bouillerie, an- 
 nouncing the king's subscription for six copies; and I 
 have appointed an agent in Paris, and am now ready to 
 leave. I have bid adieu to Baron Cuvier and Geoffrey 
 St. Hilaire, and have taken a seat in the rotunda for 
 Calais and London direct. I have paid twenty francs in 
 advance, and long for to-morrow, to be on my way to 
 England. I shall have been absent two months, have ex- 
 pended forty pounds, and obtained thirteen subscrib- 
 ers." 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Return to London— l^ets Sail for America — Arrival — Friends it. 
 
 NrtJj York. 
 
 OJVDON, Nov. 9. This is an eventful day in 
 the history of my great work on the Birds of 
 America. Mr. Havell has taken the draw- 
 ings which are to form the eleventh number, and it will 
 be the first number for the year 1829. I wished several 
 numbers to be engraved as soon as possible, for rea- 
 sons which, if known to thee, Lucy, would fill thy heart 
 with joy. 
 
 ^' Novemler 10. I am painting as much as the short 
 days will allow ; but it is so very cold to my south- 
 ern constitution, that I am freezing on the side farthest 
 from the fire. I have finished two pictures for the 
 Duke of Orleans — one of the grouse, with which I re- 
 gret to part without a copy, though I have taken the 
 outline. 
 
 ^^ December 2 2,. After so long an absence from thee, 
 my dear Book, it will be difficult to write up a connected 
 record of intervening events, but I will try and recall 
 what is worth recording. ^ly main occupation has been 
 painting every day. I have finished my two large pic- 
 tures of the Eagle and the Lamb, and the Dog and the 
 Pheasants, and now, as usual, can scarce bear to look at 
 them. My amiable pupil, Miss Hudson, has kept me 
 company, and her pencil has turned som.e of my draw* 
 
1 82 Life of Audubon. 
 
 ings into pictures. I have dined out but once, with my 
 friend J. G. Children, of the British Museum, on the 
 Coronation Day ; and there I met several friends and 
 scientific acquaintance. The want of exercise, and close 
 application, have reduced my flesh very much, and I 
 would have been off for Manchester, Liverpool, &c., but 
 have had no complete copy of my work to take with me. 
 
 ^^ December 25. Another Christmas in England! I 
 dined at Mr. Goddard's, in the furthest opposite end of 
 London, with a company mostly American. Sir Thomas 
 Lawrence called to see my paintings while I was absent. 
 Mr. Havell showed them to him, and made the following 
 report to me : — * Looking at the picture of the Eagle and 
 the Lamb, he said, " That is a fine picture." He ex- 
 amined it closely, and then turned to the Pheasants, 
 which I call " Sauve qui pent ;" this he looked at from 
 different points, and with his face close to the canvas, 
 and had it rolled to different points, for more light and 
 new views, but expressed no opinion about it. The Otter 
 came next. He said, " The animal is very fine." He 
 left, and promised to return in a few days.' I met him 
 soon after, and he told me he would call and make selec- 
 tion of a picture to be exhibited at Somerset House, and 
 would speak to the council about it." 
 
 By this time, as the journal shows, Audubon had re- 
 solved to visit America, and had begim to makv active 
 preparations for leaving. 
 
 " March 31. It is so long since I have written in my 
 life book, that I felt quite ashamed on opening it to see 
 that the last date was Christmas of last year. Fie, Au- 
 dubon ! Well, I have made up my mind to go to Ameri- 
 ca, and with some labor and some trouble perfected all 
 arrangements. I have given the agency of my work to 
 my excellent friend Children, of the British Museum, 
 who kindly offered to see to it during my absence. I 
 
T!he Return Home, 183 
 
 have settled all my business as well as I could, taken my 
 passage on board the packet-ship Columbia, Captain 
 Joseph Delano, to sail from Portsmouth, and paid thirty 
 pounds for my passage. 
 
 '^ April I. I went by mail to the smoky city of Ports- 
 mouth ; have hoisted the anchor, am at sea, and sea-sick. 
 
 " The cry of* land, land, land ! ' thrice repeated, roused 
 me from my torpor, and acted like champagne to refresh 
 my spirits. I rushed on deck, and saw in the distance a 
 deep gray line, like a wall along the horizon, and toward 
 which the ship was rolling and cutting her way. My 
 heart swelled with joy, and all seemed like a pleasant 
 dream at first ; but as soon as the reality was fairly im- 
 pressed on my mind, tears of joy rolled down my cheeks. 
 I clasped my hands, and fell on my knees, and raising 
 my eyes to heaven — that happy land above — I offered my 
 thanks to our God, that He had preserved and prospered 
 me in my long absence, and once more permitted me to 
 approach these shores so dear to me, and which hold my 
 heart's best earthly treasures. 
 
 " May 5. New York. I have brought thee, my En- 
 glish book, all the way across the Atlantic, too sea-sick 
 to hold any converse with thee — sea-sick all the way, 
 until the morning when I saw my dear native land. But 
 no matter, I have safely landed. We left England with 
 one hundred and fifty souls, and put them all ashore at 
 New York, except one poor black fellow, who thought 
 proper to put an end to his existence by jumping over- 
 board one dark night. A Mr. Benjamin Smith subscribed 
 to my work on the passage. He had his family, eight 
 sen^anls, five dogs, and cloth and twine enough to fly 
 kites the world over — an excellent and benevolent man. 
 
 " My state-room companion was a colonel from Rus- 
 sia, named Sir Isaac Coffin, and he did all he could to 
 make the voyage as pleasant as possible under the cir 
 
1 84 Life of Audubon. 
 
 cumstances. I was well received in New York by all my 
 acquaintances, and Dr. Paxallis took ine to the Collector 
 of the Customs, who, on reading President Jackson's let- 
 ters to me, gave free admission to my books and luggage. 
 My work was exhibited here, and a report made on it to 
 the New York Lyceum ; and I made the acquaintance of 
 Mr. William Cooper, the friend of Charles Bonaparte, a 
 fine, kind person. 
 
 " May 14. I left New York for Philadelphia, in com- 
 pany with Mr. Thomas Wharton, an excellent, but not 
 remarkably intellectual man, and took board with Mrs. 
 Bradley, in Arch Street. There I spent three days, and 
 then removed to Camden, New Jersey, where I sjDent 
 three weeks in observing the habits of the migratory 
 warblers and other birds which arrive in vast numbers in 
 the spring. From there I returned to Philadelphia to 
 visit the sea-shores of New Jersey." 
 
 Here follows his elaborate account of that visit. 
 
 " Great Egg Harbor. 
 
 " Having made all the necessary preparations to 
 visit the sea-shores of New Jersey, for the purpose of 
 making myself acquainted with their feathered inhabi- 
 tants, I left early in June. The weather was pleasant, 
 and the country seemed to smile in the prospect of bright 
 days and gentle gales. Fishermen-gunners passed daily 
 between Philadelphia and the various small seaports, 
 with Jersey waggons laden with fish, fowls, and other pro- 
 vision, or with such articles as v/cre required by the fami- 
 lies of those hardy boatmen ; and I bargained with one 
 of them to take myself and my baggage to Great Egg 
 Harbor. One afternoon, about sunset, the vehicle halt- 
 ed at my lodgings, and the conductor intimated that he 
 was anxious to proceed as quickly as possible. A trunk, 
 a couple of guns, and such other articles as are found 
 
^he Sea Shores of Jersey, 185 
 
 necessary by persons whose pursuits are similar to mine, 
 were immediately thrust into the waggon, and were fol- 
 lowed by their owner. The conductor whistled to hia 
 steeds, and off we went at a round pace over the loose 
 and deep sand that in almost every part of this State 
 forms the basis of the roads. After a while we overtook 
 a whole caravan of similar vehicles moving in the same 
 direction ; and when we got near them our horses slack- 
 ened their pace to a regular walk, the driver leaped from 
 his seat, I followed his example, and we presently found 
 ourselves in the midst of a group of merry waggoners, re- 
 lating their adventures of the week, it being now Saturday 
 night. One gave intimation of the number of * sheep's- 
 heads ' he had taken to town ; another spoke of the cur- 
 lews which yet remained on the sands ; and a third boast- 
 ed of having gathered so many dozens of marsh hens^ 
 eggs. I inquired if the fish-hawks were plentiful near 
 Great Egg Harbor, and was answered by an elderly 
 man, who, with a laugh, asked if I had ever seen the 
 
 ^ ^ weak fish ' along the coast without the bird in question. 
 
 J Not knowing the animal he had named, I confessed my 
 ignorance, when the whole party burst into a loud laugh, 
 in which, there being nothing better for it, I joined. 
 
 "About midnight the caravan reached a half-w^ay 
 house, where we rested a while. Several roads diverged 
 from this spot, and the waggons separated, one only 
 keeping us company. The night was dark and gloomy, 
 but the sand of the road indicated our course very dis- 
 tinctly. Suddenly the galloping of horses struck my ear, 
 and on looking back, we perceived that our waggon must 
 in an instant be in imminent danger. The driver leaped 
 off, and drew his steeds aside, barely in time to allow the 
 runaways to pass without injuring us. Off they went at 
 full speed, and not long after their owner came up pant- 
 ing, and informed us that they had suddenly taken fright 
 
1 86 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 at some noise proceeding from the woods, but hoped they 
 would soon stop. Immediately after we heard a crash ^ 
 then for a few moments all was silent ; but the neighing 
 of the horses presently assured us that they had broken 
 loose. On reaching the spot we found the waggon up- 
 set, and a few yards further on were the horses quietly 
 browsing by the road-side. 
 
 " The first dawn of morn in the Jerseys, in the month 
 of June, is worthy of a better description than I can fur- 
 nish ; and therefore I shall only say that the moment the 
 sunbeams blazed over the horizon, the loud and mellow 
 notes of the meadow lark saluted our ears. On each side 
 of the road were open woods, on the tallest trees of 
 which I observed at intervals the nest of a fish-hawk, far 
 above which the white-breasted bird slowly winged its 
 way as it commenced its early journey to the sea, the 
 odor of which filled me with delight. In half an hour 
 more we were in the centre of Great Egg Harbor. 
 
 " There I had the good fortune to be received into 
 the house of a thoroughbred fisherman-gunner, who, be- 
 sides owning a comfortable cot, only a few hundred yards 
 from the shore, had an excellent woman for a wife, and a 
 little daughter as playful as a kitten, though as wild as a 
 sea-gull. In less than half an hour I was quite at home, 
 and the rest of the day was spent in devotion. Oysters, 
 though reckoned out of season at this period, are as good 
 as ever when fresh from their beds, and my first meal was 
 of some as large and white as any I have eaten. The 
 sight of them, placed before me on a clean table, with an 
 honest industrious family in my company, never failed to 
 aftord more pleasure than the most sumptuous fare under 
 different circumstances, and our conversation being sim- 
 ple and harmless, gayety shone in every face. As we be- 
 came better acquainted, I had to answer several ques- 
 tions relative to the object of my visit. The good man 
 
l!he Sea Shores of Jersey, 187 
 
 rubbed his hands with joy as I spoke of shooting and fish- 
 ing, and of long excursions through the swamps and 
 marshes around. My host was then, and I hope still is, 
 a tall, strong-boned, muscular man, of dark complexion, 
 with eyes as keen as those of the sea eagle. He was a 
 tough walker, laughed at difficultieSj and could pull an 
 oar with any man. As to shooting, I have often doubted 
 whether he or Mr. Egan, the worthy pilot of Indian Isle, 
 was best ; and rarely indeed have I seen either of them 
 miss a shot. 
 
 " At daybreak on Monday I shouldered my double- 
 barrelled gun, and my host carried with him a long fowl- 
 ing piece, a pair of oars, and a pair of oyster-tongs, while 
 the wife and daughter brought along a seine. The boat 
 was good, the breeze gentle, and along the inlets we sailed 
 for parts well known to my companions. To such natu- 
 ralists as are qualified to observe many different objects 
 at the same time, Great Egg Harbor would probably af- 
 ford as ample a field as any part of our coast, excepting 
 th. Florida Keys. Birds of many kinds are abundant, as 
 are fishes and testaceous animals. The forests shelter 
 many beautiful plants, and even on the driest sand-bar 
 you may see insects of the most brilliant tints. Our prin- 
 cipal object, however, was to procure certain birds known 
 there by the name of lawyers ; and to accomplish this we 
 entered and followed for several miles a winding inlet or 
 bayou, which led us to the interior of a vast marsh, 
 where, after some search, we found the birds and their 
 nests. Our seine had been placed across the channel, 
 and when we returned to it the tide had run out and left 
 in it a number of fine fishes, some of which we cooked and 
 ate on the spot. One, which I considered as a curiosity, 
 was saved and transmitted to Baron Cuvier. Our repast 
 ended, the seine was spread out to dry, and we again be- 
 took ourselves to the marshes, to pursue our researches 
 
1 88 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 until the return of the tide. Having collected enough to 
 satisfy us, we took up our oars and returned to the shore 
 in front of the fisherman's house, where we dragged the 
 seine several times with success. 
 
 " In this manner I passed several weeks along those 
 delightful and healthy shores — one day going to the 
 woods to search the swamps in which the herons bred, 
 passing another amid the joyous cries of the marsh hens, 
 and on a third carrying slaughter among the white breast- 
 ed sea-gulls ; by way of amusement sometimes hauling 
 the fish called the * sheep's-head ' from an eddy along the 
 shore ; watching the gay terns as they danced in the 
 air, or plunged into the water to seize the tiny fry. Many 
 a drawing I made at Egg Harbor, and many a pleasant 
 day I spent along its shores ; and much pleasure would 
 it give me once more to visit the good and happy family 
 (Captain Horam's) in whose house I resided there. 
 
 " September i. Having accomplished my purpose in 
 visiting the sea-shore of New Jersey, I returned to Phila- 
 delphia, and made preparations to go to the Great Pine 
 Swamp, in Northumberland County, Pennsylvania. 
 
 "The Great Pine Swamp. 
 
 " T left Philadelphia at four of the morning by the 
 coach, with no other accoutrements than I knew to be ab- 
 solutely necessary for the jaunt which I intended to 
 make. These consisted of a wooden box, containing a 
 small stock of linen, drawing-paper, my journal, colors 
 and pencils, together with twent}^-five pounds of shot, 
 some flints, a due quantum of cash, my gun, * Tear Jack- 
 et,' and a heart as true to nature as ever. 
 
 " Our coaches are none of the best, nor do they 
 move with the velocity of those of some other countries. 
 It was eight, and a dark night, when I reached Mauch 
 Chunk, now so celebrated in the Union for its rich coal 
 
'the Great Pine Swamp, 185 
 
 mines, and eighty-eight miles distant from Philadelphia. 
 I had passed through a diversified countr}% pari; of whicb 
 was highly cultivated, while the rest was yet in a state of 
 nature, and consequently much more agreeable to me. 
 On alighting I was shown to the travellers' room, and on 
 asking for the landlord, saw coming towards me a fine- 
 looldng young man, to whom I made known my wishes. 
 He spoke kindly, and offered to lodge and board me at a 
 much lower rate than travellers who go there for the very 
 simple pleasure of being dragged on the railway. In a 
 word, I was fixed in four minutes, and that most comfort- 
 ably. 
 
 " No sooner had the approach of day been announced 
 by the cocks of the little village, than I marched out 
 with my gun and note-book, to judge for myself of the 
 v/ealth of the country. After traversing much ground, 
 and crossing many steep hills, I returned, if not wearied, 
 at least much disappointed at the extraordinary scarcity of 
 birds. So I bargained to be carried in a cart to the cen- 
 tral parts of the Great Pine Swamp ; and although a heav}' 
 storm was rising, ordered my conductor to proceed. The 
 weather had become tremendous, and we w^ere thorough- 
 ly drenched. We wound round many a mountain, and at 
 last crossed the highest. But my resolution being fixed, 
 the boy was obliged to continue his driving. Having al- 
 ready travelled fifteen miles or so, we left the turnpike 
 and struck up a narrow and bad road, that seemed mere- 
 ly cut out to enable the people of the swamp to receive the 
 necessary supplies from the village which I had left 
 Some mistakes were made, and it was almost dark when 
 a post directed us to the habitation of a Mr. Jedediah 
 Irish, to whom I had been recommended. We now 
 rattled down a steep declivity, edged on one side by al- 
 most perpendicular rocks, and on the other by a noisy 
 stream, which seemed grumbling at the approach of 
 
IQO Life of Audubon, 
 
 strangers. The ground was so overgrown by laurels and 
 tall pines of different kinds, that the whole presented only 
 a mass of darkness. 
 
 " At length we got to the house, the door of which 
 was already opened, the sight of strangers being nothing 
 uncommon in our woods, even in the most remote 
 parts. On entering I was presented with a chair, while 
 my conductor was shown the way to the stable ; and on 
 expressing a wish that I should be permitted to remain in 
 the house for some weeks, I was gratified by receiving 
 the sanction of the good woman to my proposal, although 
 her husband was then from home. As I immediately 
 fell talking about the nature of the country, and if birds 
 were numerous in the neighborhood, Mrs. Irish, more au 
 fait to household affairs than ornithology, sent for a ne- 
 phew of her husband, who soon made his appearance, and 
 in whose favor I became at once prepossessed. He con- 
 versed like an educated person, saw that I was comforta- 
 bly disposed of, and finally bid me good-night, in such a 
 tone as made me quite happy. 
 
 " The storm had rolled away before the first beams of 
 the morning sun shone brightly on the wet foliage, dis- 
 playing all its richness and beauty. My ears were greet- 
 ed by the notes, always sweet and mellow, of the wood- 
 thrush, and other songsters. Before I had gone many 
 steps the woods echoed to the report of my gun, and I 
 picked from among the leaves a lovely bird long sought 
 for, but till then sought for in vain. I needed no more, 
 and standing still for a while, I was soon convinced that 
 the Great Pine Swamp harbored many other objects inter- 
 esting to me. The young man joined me, bearing his 
 rifle, and offered to accompany me through the woods, all 
 of which he well knew. But I was anxious to transfer to 
 paper the form and beauty of the little bird I had in my 
 hand ; and requesting him to break a twig of blooming 
 
Jedediah Irish, i i 
 
 laurel, we returned to the house, speaking of nothing else 
 than the picturesque beauty of the country around. 
 
 "A few days passed, during which I became acquaint- 
 ed with my hostess and her sweet children, and made oc- 
 casional rambles, but spent the greater portion of my time 
 in drawing. One morning, as I stood near the window of 
 my room, I remarked a tall and powerful man alight from 
 his horse, loose the girth of his saddle, raise the latter 
 with one hand, pass the bridle over the head of the ani- 
 mal with the other, and move towards the house, while 
 the horse betook himself to the little brook to drink. I 
 heard some movement in the room below, and again the 
 same tall person walked towards the mills and stores, a 
 few hundred yards from the house. In America, busi- 
 ness is the first object in view at all times, and rightly it 
 should be so. Soon after, my hostess entered my room 
 accompanied by the fine-looking woodsman, to w^hom^ as 
 Mr. Jedediah Irish, I was introduced. Reader, to de- 
 scribe to you the qualities of that excellent man, were vain j 
 you should know him as I do, to estimate the value of 
 such men in our sequestered forests. He not only 
 made me welcome, but promised all his i^-ssistance in for- 
 warding my views. The long walks and long talks we 
 have had together I never can forget, nor the many beau- 
 tiful birds which we pursued, shot, and admired. The 
 juicy venison, excellent bear's flesh, and delightful trout 
 that daily formed my food, methinks I can still enjoy. 
 And then what pleasure I had in listening to him, as he 
 read his favorite poems of Burns, while my pencil was oc- 
 cupied in smoothing and softening the drawing of the 
 bird before me. Was not this enough to recall to my 
 mind the early impressions that had been made upon it 
 by the description of the golden age, which I here found 
 realized ? The Lehigh about this place forms numerous 
 short turns between the mountains, and affords frequent 
 
1Q2 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 falls, as well as, below the falls, deep pools, which ren- 
 der this stream a most valuable one for mills of any kind. 
 Not many years before this date my host was chosen by 
 the agent of the Lehigh Coal Company as their mill- 
 wright, and manager for cutting down the fine trees which 
 covered the mountains around. He w^as young, robust, 
 active, industrious, and persevering. He marched to the 
 spot where his abode now is, with some workmen, and 
 by dint of hard labor first cleared the road mentioned 
 above, and reached the river at the centre of a bend, 
 where he fixed on erecting various mills. The pass here 
 is so narrow that it looks as if formed by the bursting 
 asunder of the mountain, both sides ascending abruptly, 
 so that the place where the settlement was made is in 
 many parts difficult of access, and the road then newly 
 cut was only sufficient to permit men and horses to come 
 to the spot where Jedediah and his men were at work. So 
 great in fact where the difficulties of access, that, as he 
 told me, pointing to a spot about 150 feet above us, they 
 for many months slipped from it their barrelled provis- 
 ions, assisted by ropes, to their camp below. But no 
 sooner was the first saw-mill erected, than the axemen be- 
 gan their devastation. Trees one after another were, and 
 are yet constantly heard falling during the days, and in 
 calm nights the greedy mills told the sad tale that in a 
 century the noble forests around would exist no more. 
 Many mills were erected, many dams raised, in defiance 
 of the impetuous Lehigh. One full third of the trees have 
 already been culled, turned into boards, and floated as 
 far as Philadelphia. In such an undertaking the cutting 
 of the trees is not all. They have afterwards to be hauled 
 to the edge of the mountains bordering the river, launched 
 into the stream, and led to the mills, over many shallows 
 and difficult places. Whilst I was in the Great Pine 
 Swamp, I frequently visited one of the principal places for 
 
Logging. 193 
 
 the launching of logs. To see them tumbling from such 
 a height, touching here and there the rough angle of a 
 projecting rock, bounding from it with the elasticity of a 
 foot-ball, and at last falling with an awful crash into the 
 river, forms a sight interesting in tlie highest degree, but 
 impossible for me to describe. Shall I tell you that I 
 have seen masses of these logs heaped above each other 
 to the number of five thousand ? I may so tell you, for 
 such I have seen. My friend Irish assured me that at 
 some seasons these piles consisted of a much greater num- 
 ber, the river becoming in these places completely 
 choked up. When freshets or floods take place, then is 
 the time chosen for forwarding to the different mills. This 
 is called a * frolic' Jedediah Irish, who is generally the 
 leader, proceeds to the upper leap with the men, 
 each provided with a strong wooden handspike and 
 a short-handled axe. They all take to the water, 
 be it summer or winter, like so many Newfoundland 
 spaniels. The logs are gradually detached, and aftei 
 a time are seen floating down the dancing stream, 
 here striking against a rock, and whirling man}r 
 times round, there suddenly checked in dozens by a shal- 
 low, over which they have to be forced with the hand- 
 spikes. Now they arrive at the edge of a dam, and when 
 the party has arrived at the last, which lies just where tcv^ 
 friend Irish's camp was first formed, the drenched leadei 
 and his men, about sixty in number, make their way home, 
 find tliere a healthful repast, and spend the evening and 
 a portion of the night in dancing and frolicing in their 
 own simple manner, in the most perfect amity, seldom 
 troubling themselves with the idea of the labor prepared 
 for them on the morrow. That morrow now come, one 
 sounds a horn from the door of the storehouse, at the call 
 of which they all return to their work. The sawyers, the 
 millers, the rafters, and raftsmen are all immediately 
 9 
 
IQ4 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 busy. The mills all are going, and the logs, which a few 
 months before were the supporters of broad and leafy 
 tops, are now in the act of being split asunder. The 
 boards are then launched into the stream, and rafts are 
 formed of them for market. 
 
 " During the summer and autumnal months, the Le- 
 high, a small river of itself, soon becomes extremely 
 shallow, and to float the rafts would prove impossible, 
 had not art managed to provide a supply of water for 
 this express purpose. At the breast of the lower dam is 
 a curiously-constructed lock, which is opened at the ap- 
 proach of the rafts. They pass through this lock with 
 the rapidity of lightning, propelled by the water that had 
 been accumulated in the dam, and which is of itself gene- 
 rally sufficient to float them to Mauch Chunk ; after 
 which, entering regular canals, they find no other impedi- 
 ments, but are conveyed to their ultimate destination. 
 Before population had greatly advanced in this part of 
 Pennsylvania, game of all descriptions found in that 
 range was extremely abundant. The elk did not disdain 
 to browse on the shoulders of the mountains near the Le- 
 high. Bears and the common deer must have been 
 plentiful, as at the moment when I write, many of both 
 kinds are seen and killed by the resident hunters. The 
 wuld turkey, the pheasant, and the grouse, are tolerably 
 abundant ; and as to trout in the streams — ah ! reader, if 
 you are an angler, do go there and try for yourself. For 
 my part, I can only say that I have been made weary 
 with pulling up from the rivulets the sparkling fish, al- 
 lured by the struggles of the common grasshopper. 
 
 " A comical affair happened with some bears, v;hich I 
 shall relate to you, good reader. A party of my friend 
 Irish's raftsmen, returning from ]Mauch Chunk one after- 
 noon, through sundry short cuts over the mountains, at 
 the season when huckleberries are ripe and plentiful, 
 
A Bear Fight. 195 
 
 were suddenly apprised of the proximity of some of these 
 animals, by their snuffing the air. No sooner was this 
 perceived than, to the astonishment of the party, not 
 fewer than eight bears, I was told, made their appear- 
 ance. Each man being provided with his short-handled 
 axe, faced about and willingly came to the scratch ; but 
 the assailed soon proved the assailants, and wath claw 
 and tooth drove 0^ the men in a twinkling. Down they 
 all rushed from the mountain ; the noise spread quickly ; 
 riHes were soon procured and shouldered ; but when the 
 spot was reached, no bears were to be found ; night 
 forced the hunters back to their homes, and a laugh con- 
 cluded the affair. 
 
 " I spent six wrecks in the Great Pine Forest — swamp 
 it cannot be called — where I made many a drawing. 
 Wishing to leave Pennsylvania, and to follow the migra- 
 tory flocks of our birds to the south, I bade adieu to the 
 excellent wife and rosy children of my friend, and to his 
 kind nephew. Jedediah Irish, shouldered his heavy 
 rifle, accompanied me, and trudging directly across the 
 mountains, we arrived at Mauch Chunk in good time for 
 dinner. At Mauch Chunk, where we both spent the 
 night, ISIr. White, the civil engineer, visited me, and look- 
 ed at my drawings which I had made at the Great Pine 
 Forest. The news he gave me of my sons, then in Ken- 
 tucky, made me still more arxious to move in their direc- 
 tion ; and long before daybr ak I shook handi'^ with the 
 good man of the forest, and found myself moving towards 
 the capital of Pennsylvania, having as my sole companion 
 a sharp frosty breeze. Left to my thoughts, I felt amazed 
 that such a place as the Great Pine Forest should be so 
 little known to the Philadelphians, scarcely any of whom 
 could direct me towards it. 
 
 " Night came on as I was thinking of such things, 
 and I was turned out of the coach, in the streets of the 
 
196 
 
 Life of Audubon. 
 
 fair city, just as the clock struck ten. I cannot say mv 
 bones were much rested, but not a moment was to be 
 lost. So I desired a porter to take up my little luggage, 
 and leading him towards the nearest wharf, I found my- 
 self soon after gliding across the Delaware towai'ds my 
 former lodgings in the Jerseys." 
 
•^ 
 
 CHAPTER XIV, 
 
 The Meeting "with his Wife and Sons — Return with his Wife id 
 England— Provincial Canvass — East Florida. 
 
 FTER remaining a few days at his lodgings, Au- 
 dubon started off to his wife and children, who 
 were then residing in the south and west ; Vic- 
 tor at Louisville, Kentucky, and Mrs Audubon and John 
 at Mr. Garret Johnson's, in Mississippi, about one hun- 
 dred and fifty miles above New Orleans. 
 
 " I crossed the mountains to Pittsburg, in the mail- 
 coach, with my dog and gun, and calling on my wife's re- 
 lations, and one of my old partners, Mr. Thomas Pears, 
 I proceeded down the Ohio in a steamboat to Louisville. 
 On entering the counting-house of my relative, Mr. W. 
 G. Bakewell, I saw my son Victor at a desk, but per- 
 haps would not have recognized him had he not known 
 me at once. And the pleasure I experienced on pressing 
 him to my breast was increased when I discovered how 
 much my dear boy had improved, as I had not seen him 
 for five years. My son John Woodhouse I also found at 
 ]\Ir. Berthond's, and he had also grown and improved. 
 After spending a few days at Louisville, I took passage 
 on another steamer going down the Mississippi, and in a 
 few days landed at Bayou Sara, and was soon at the 
 house of Mr. Johnson, and came suddenly on my dear 
 wife : we were both overcome with emotion, which found 
 relief in tears." 
 
 The following interesting allusions to Audubon's visit, 
 are from the pen of T. B. Thorpe, for many years a res- 
 ident of the South -West. "When we first arrived in 
 
iqS Life of Auduhon. 
 
 Louisiana," he wTites, " we were pleasantly surprised to 
 find that our temporary home was within range of much 
 of Audubon's most faithfully searched country. Almost 
 every old resident we met could tell us something about 
 the man ; and although we heard much to satisfy us that 
 his pursuits were altogether unappreciated, yet we never 
 heard anytliing that did not reflect honor on his charac- 
 ter as an enthusiastic disciple of nature, and a superior 
 man, and not of one characteristic that displayed vanity. 
 On the contrary, he was almost child-like in his habits, 
 he was so inoffensive and unobtrusive where his pursuits 
 were not concerned. At all events the details of his 
 daily experiences in the swamps of the Mississippi, his 
 patient sufferings from heat, storm and hunger, while sat- 
 isfying himself of some habit of a single bird, tell of a 
 character over which inordinate vanity could have exer- 
 ted no perceptible influence. 
 
 " Audubon was of French extraction ; he therefore in- 
 herited the mercurial peculiarities of his race ; and when 
 a youth, possessed of liberal resources, he was fond of 
 display, but the grave pursuits of business and the fierce 
 impulse he 'received from nature to be an ornithologist, 
 and the many pecuniary misfortunes that befel him on 
 the threshold of his life, sobered his judgment and pre- 
 pared the way for that entire absorption of all his great 
 powers that resulted finally in the production of his im- 
 mortal works. 
 
 " In one of the first plantation houses I visited on my 
 arrival in Louisiana, I was attracted by the covering of 
 a rude fireboard, which upon being attentively examined, 
 I discovered was covered over with very sketchy, but nev- 
 ertheless very expressive and masterly drawings of birds, 
 mere outlines, yet full of spirit and most suggestive. I 
 asked my host where these things came from, and much 
 to my surprise he informed me that the bits of paper I 
 
A Bird Study, i^g 
 
 saw were shreds and patches left by Audubon some years 
 previously at his house. 
 
 " Further inquiry developed the interesting fact that 
 the great naturalist occupied a room for months together 
 in the house I then occupied ; in fact, it was his headquar- 
 ters, when he v/as in the vicinity, engaged in making up 
 his collection of Southern birds. Among many illustra- 
 tive incidents we learned, we recall two or three as the 
 best proof that can be given that Audubon's was too 
 great a mind to be marred by excessive vanity. 
 
 " My host informed me that Audubon, among other 
 things, became interested in a little bird, not as large as 
 the wren, that was of such peculiar gray plumage, that it 
 so entirely harmonized with the bark of the trees it in- 
 habited, that it was impossible to see the bird except by 
 the most careful obser\^ation. In fact, the bird existed in 
 numbers in localities where its existence was never sus- 
 pected. 
 
 " Audubon expressed his determination to learn the 
 history and habits of this bird, and bent all his energies 
 with absorbing interest to the pursuit. One night he 
 came home greatly excited, saying that he had found a 
 pair that was evidently preparing to make a nest. The 
 next morning he went into the woods, taking with him a 
 telescopic microscope. This scientific instrument he erec- 
 ted under the tree that gave shelter to the literally invis- 
 ible inhabitants he was searching for, and^ making a 
 pillow of some moss, he laid upon his back, and looking 
 through the telescope, day after day, noted the progress 
 of the little birds, and, after three weeks of such patient 
 labor, felt that he had been amply rewarded for the toil 
 and sacrifice by the results he had obtained. It was 
 while engaged in these quiet speculations that he witness- 
 ed so many things, the record of which have prompted 
 superficial thinkers to conclude that Audubon drew upon 
 
200 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 his imagination, and not upon facts, for many of the won 
 derful adventures he relates, incidental to his ornitholo- 
 gical descriptions. 
 
 " Sitting upon the gallery of the planter's house, I no- 
 ticed some distance in front a tall magnolia tree, the upper 
 part of which was dead, indicating that it was of great 
 age. A closer examination developed the fact that the 
 very topmost horizontal limb had been artificially remov- 
 ed from the trunk, instead of falling to the ground by 
 the natural course of decay. I called the attention of 
 my host to the fact, and he informed me that it was the 
 result of one of Audubon's fancies. The story was as 
 follows : 
 
 "One evening the planter and the naturalist sat to- 
 gether on the gallery, watching the decline of a summer's 
 day, when they were surprised and delighted at the sud- 
 den appearance of a bald eagle that was circling high in 
 the heavens, occasionally flashing with peculiar brilliancy, 
 as the rays of the setting sun happened to strike the quiv- 
 ering plumage. The noble bird gradually descended 
 toward the earth, and finally settled upon the very limb 
 that had been cut from the tree. 
 
 " As soon as the bird alighted, Audubon got up very 
 deliberately, and, going into his room, brought out his 
 rifle and commenced very deliberately drawing a charge 
 of mustard-seed shot. 
 
 " * You had better hurry,' said the planter, * that bird 
 seems restless already ; he won't keep his perch long.' 
 
 " ' Yes he will,' said Audubon, almost drawling his 
 words. * I have disturbed that eagle's nest to-day, and 
 he is now engaged in examining the damage, and making 
 his calculations about the danger of returning home ; 
 never fear his flying away until the day is well spent.' 
 
 " And sure enough, said the planter, Audubon under- 
 stood the habits of the eagle, for there the poor bird sat, 
 
4 ^he Eagle. 201 
 
 Hntii Audubon coolly loaded his rifle with a bullet, and 
 then like a serpent, on his belly, he had time to noiseless- 
 ly, and unobserved even by the keen eye of the bird of 
 Jove, to crawl within gun-shot. I must confess I was 
 excited. I ^ould see the bird, standing erect, and with 
 earnest gaze looking toward his nest, his mate and his 
 young in the distant swamp. I had lost sight of Audubon ; 
 he was buried among the weeds in the undergrowth of 
 the intervening ground. Presently a sharp rifle report 
 broke upon the air, a puff of smoke rose at the very foot 
 of the tree, and the eagle at the same instant flapped his 
 broad wings, made an ineffectual struggle to bear himself 
 on the air, and then turning on his back commenced de- 
 scending ingloriously to the earth. I admired Audubon's 
 spirit, knowledge and pluck, but I must confess I felt sor- 
 ry for the poor bird. 
 
 "In a few minutes Audubon appeared with the 
 wounded, dying monarch in his possession. He called our 
 attention to the wonderful expression of the eye, which at 
 one time blazed as if illuminated with fire, and then glaz- 
 ed as if in death. As the sun finally disappeared, the 
 eagle died. 
 
 " Audubon was now all excitement, he called up a 
 dozen idle negroes, who had been attracted by the novelty 
 of the event they witnessed, and ordered them to make 
 a large fire, by the light of which, in a few hours, he 
 stuffed and set up the bird, with a grace and naturalness 
 that almost rivaled life. 
 
 " The next morning, on examining his work, he said it 
 wanted one thing more to make it complete, and acting 
 upon the idea, he took a saw and with great peril to him- 
 self and a vast amount of labor, he ascended to the top 
 of the magnolia and sawed off the limb, the butt of which 
 attracted your notice ; this secured, he put the eagle upon 
 it, and thus restored the exact resemblance presented 
 
202 Life of Audubon. 
 
 when the bird in all its native grandeur, sat perched on 
 its eyrie the impersonation of freedom — the chosen em- 
 blem of our national glory. 
 
 " That Audubon is not always properly appreciated, is 
 often illustrated j therefore, criticism may be expected. 
 In the very community where Audubon lived he had, as 
 a naturalist, no real admirers. In the early days we 
 speak of, the people with whom he mingled were content 
 with a semi-weekly mail, and it was the custom for some 
 person who had a loud voice to read out to the crowd the 
 epitome of news from some popular northern weekly pa- 
 per. On one of these occasions the following item was 
 read : 
 
 " * The Emperor Nicholas, in his recent trip from Eng- 
 land to Russia, occupied his leisure time in looking over 
 Audubon's great work on ornithology. The Emperor 
 was so delighted with what he saw, that he sent the great 
 naturalist a costly ring set with diamonds, as a mark of 
 his appreciation of the distinguished author.* 
 
 " ' What's thai ? ' said one of the listeners, who was 
 noted for his slovenly dress and agrarian poHtics ; ^ what's 
 that? Read that again.' 
 
 " The request was complied with. 
 
 " * That's just my idea of these imperial Emperors ; 
 they never have anything for a poor man, but give their 
 diamonds and gold to loafing cusses, who are too lazy to 
 work, and so make a living shooting little chippin-birds, 
 and then drawing their picters.' " 
 
 He remained three months with his wife, but was 
 still actively employed. He hunted the woods for birds 
 and animals, and brought them home alive or freshly 
 killed, to draw from. There are several exquisite unfin- 
 ished deer-heads, in his great portfolio of unfinished 
 drawings, which were begun at that time. He drew also, 
 at this time, the picture of the " Black Vulture Attacking 
 
England Again, 203 
 
 the Herd of Deer," several large hawks, and some beau 
 tiful squirrels. Having added considerably to his col- 
 lection, he began again to think of returning to England, 
 to increase the drawings already being published there. 
 
 " Our plans," he writes, addressing his sons, " were 
 soon arranged. Your mother collected the moneys due 
 her, and on the first of January, eighteen hundred and 
 thirty, we started for New Orleans, taking with us the only 
 three servants yet belonging to us, namely, Cecilia, and 
 her two sons, Reuben and Lewis. We stayed a few days 
 at our friend Mr. Brand's, with whom we left our servants, 
 and on the seventh of January took passage in the splen- 
 did steamer Philadelphia for Louisville, Paying sixty dol- 
 lars fare. AVe were fourteen days getting to Louisville, 
 having had some trouble with the engine. I passed my 
 time there at Mr. Berthond's and your uncle W. Bake- 
 well's, and amused myself hunting and stuffing birds until 
 the seventh of March, when we took a steamer for Cin- 
 cinnati, and thence to Wheeling, and so on to AVashing- 
 ton in the mail-coach. Congress was in session, and I 
 exhibited my drawings to the House of Representatives, 
 and received their subscription as a body. I saw the 
 President, Andrew Jackson, wiio received me with great 
 kindness, as he did your mother also aftenvards. I be- 
 came acquainted with the Hon. Edward Everett, Baron 
 Krudener, and other distinguished persons, and we left 
 for Baltimore. There my drawings were exhibited, and I 
 obtained three subscribers, and left for Philadelphia, 
 where we remained one week. I saw my friends Harlan, 
 Mr. McMurtrie, and Sully, and went to New York, from 
 whence we sailed in the packet-ship Pacific, Captain R. 
 Crocker, for England. 
 
 " After a passage of twenty-five days, on which noth- 
 ing happened worthy of record, we had crossed the At 
 lantic and arrived safely in Liverpool. 
 
204 ^^f^ of Audubon, 
 
 " In England everything had gone well, and although 
 my list of subscribers had not increased, it had not much 
 diminished. During my absence I had been elected a 
 fellow of the Royal Society of London, for which I be- 
 lieve I am indebted to Lord Stanley and J. S. Children, 
 Esq., of the British Museum, and on the sixth of May 1 
 took my seat in the great hall, and paid my entrance fee 
 of fifty pounds, though I felt myself that I had not the 
 qualifications to entitle me to such an honor." 
 
 Soon after his arrival in England, he found that sub- 
 scribers did not pay up as regularly as he expected, and 
 money being needed to push forward the engraving of 
 the " Birds of America," he again resorted to his pencil 
 and brush, and painted birds and quadrupeds, for all of 
 which he found a ready sale at satisfactory prices. Be- 
 sides this he was occupied in filling up the ground-work 
 of many of his drawings, and introducing plants and trees 
 which had at first been given only in outline. His stay 
 at London, however, was not long. Mrs. Audubon having 
 joined him there after a few weeks, not liking a residence 
 in ;'ie city, travelled with him on his journeys to obtain 
 new subscribers. 
 
 " AVe visited Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds, York, 
 Hull, Scarborough, Whitby, Newcastle, and received 
 several subscriptions at the latter place ; and my former 
 friends, Mr. Adamson and the Rev. Mr. Turner, were 
 quite kind to us, as also was the family of the Earl of 
 Ravensworth. On our way to Edinburgh we stopped a 
 few days and were hospitably entertained at Twisel 
 House, by Mr. Selby. 
 
 .. " October 13, 1830. AVe reached Edinburgh safely, 
 and took lodgings at my old boarding-house, with Mrs, 
 Dickie, where we were made very comfortable." 
 
 At this period Audubon began to prepare his "Or- 
 nithological Biography of the Birds of America," a work 
 
l!he Biography of Birds, 205 
 
 containing nearly three thousand pages, and published 
 by Mr. Black of Edinburgh. 
 
 " I applied to Mr. James Wilson, to ask if he knew of 
 any person who would undertake to correct my ungram- 
 matical manuscripts, and to assist me in arranging the 
 more scientific part of the ' Biography of the Birds.' He 
 gave me a card with the address of Mr. W. McGillivray, 
 spoke well of him and his talents, and away to Mr. Mc- 
 Gillivray I went. He had long known of me as a natu- 
 ralist. J made known my business, and a bargain was 
 soon struck. He agreed to assist me, and correct my 
 manuscripts for two guineas per sheet of sixteen pages, 
 and I that day began to write the first volume. 
 
 " A few days after I began writing on the Biography, 
 it was known in Edinburgh that I had arrived, and Pro- 
 fessors Jameson, Graham, and others whom I had known, 
 called on me ; and I found at the * fourteenth hour,' that 
 no less than three editions of * Wilson's Ornithology" 
 were about to be published, one by Jameson, one by Sir 
 W. Jardine, and another by a Mr. Brown. Most persons 
 would probably have been discouraged by this informa- 
 tion, but it only had a good effect on me, because since I 
 have been in England I have studied the character of 
 Englishmen as carefully as I studied the birds in Ameri- 
 ca. And I know full well, that in England novelty is al- 
 ways in demand, and that if a thing is well known it will 
 not receive much support. Wilson has had his day, 
 thought I to myself, and now is my time. I will write, 
 and I will hope to be read ; and not only so, but I will 
 push my publication with such unremitting vigor, that my 
 book shall come before the public before Wilson's can 
 be got out. 
 
 " Writing now became the order of the day. I sat 
 at it as soon as I aw^oke in the morning, and continued 
 the whole long day, and so full was my mind of birds 
 
2o6 Life of Audubon, 
 
 and their habits, that in my sleep I continually dreamed 
 of birds. I found Mr. McGillivray equally industrious, 
 for although he did not rise so early in the morning as 1 
 did, he wrote much later at night (this I am told is a 
 characteristic of all great writers) ; and so the manu- 
 scripts went on increasing in bulk, like the rising of a 
 stream after abundant rains, and before three months had 
 passed the first volume was finished. Meanwhile your 
 mother copied it all to send to America, to secure the 
 copyright there. 
 
 f' I made an arrangement with Mr. Patrick Neill, the 
 printer, who undertook the work, for I was from neces- 
 sity my own publisher. I offered this famous book to 
 tvvo booksellers, neither of whom would give me a shil- 
 ling for it, and it was fortunate that they would not ; and 
 most happy is the man who can, as I did, keep himself 
 independent of that class o^ men called the * gentlemen 
 of the trade.* Poor Wilson, hov/ happy he would have 
 been, if he had had it in his power to bear the expenses 
 of his own beautiful work ! 
 
 ''^ March 13, 183 1. My book is now on the eve of be- 
 ing presented to the world. The printing will be com- 
 pleted in a few days, and I have sent copies of the sheets 
 to Dr. Harlan and Mr. McMurtrie, at Philadelphia, and 
 also one hundred pounds sterling to Messrs. T. Walker 
 & Sons, to be paid to Dr. Harlan to secure the copy- 
 right, and have the book published there. 
 
 ^^ March 20, 183 1. Made an agreement with Mr. J. 
 B. Kidd, a young painter whom I have known for the last 
 four years, to copy some of my drawings in oil, and to 
 put backgrounds to them, so as to make them appear 
 like pictures. It was our intention to send them to the 
 exhibition for sale, and to divide the amount between us. 
 He painted eight, and then I proposed, if he would paint 
 the one hundred engravings which comprise my first vol- 
 
Balance-Sheet of the Great Work. 207 
 
 ume of the 'Birds of America/ I would pay him one 
 hundred pounds. 
 
 ^^ April 15. We left Edinburgh this day, and proceed- 
 ed towards London by the way of Newcastle, York, Leeds, 
 Manchester, and Liverpool. At the latter place we spent 
 a few days, and travelled on that extraordinary road 
 called the railway, at the rate of twenty-four miles an 
 hour. On arriving at London I found it urgent for me 
 to visit Paris, to collect monies due me by my agent 
 (Pitois) there. 
 
 " Several reviews of my work have appeared ; one in 
 * Blackwood's Magazine ' is particularly favorable. The 
 editor, John Wilson of Edinburgh, is a clever good fellow, 
 and I wrote to thank him. Dr. Tuke, an Irishman of lively 
 manners, brought the editors of the * Atlas ' to see my 
 Birds, and they have praised also. We have received 
 letters from America of a cheering kind, and which raised 
 my dull spirits, but in spite of all this I feel dull, rough 
 in temper, and long for nothing so much as my dear 
 woods. I have balanced my accounts with the * Birds 
 of America,' and the whole business is really wonderful ; 
 forty thousand dollars have passed through my hands for 
 the completion of the first volume. Who would believe 
 that a lonely individual, w^ho landed in England without 
 a friend in the whole country, and with only sufficient pe- 
 cuniary means to travel through it as a visitor, could have 
 accomplished such a task as this publication ? Who 
 would believe that once in London Audubon had only 
 one sovereign left in his pocket, and did not know of a 
 single individual to whom he could apply to borrow an- 
 other, when he was on the verge of failure in the very 
 beginning of his undertaking ; and above all, who would 
 believe that he extricated himself from all his difficulties, 
 not by borrowing money, but by rising at four o'clock in 
 the morning, working hard all day, and disposing of his 
 
2o8 Life of Audubon. 
 
 works at a price which a common laborer would have 
 thought little more than sufficient remuneration for his 
 work ? To give you an idea of my actual difficulties during 
 the publication of my first volume, it will be sufficient to 
 say, that in the four years required to bring that volume 
 before the world, no less than fifty of my subscribers, re- 
 presenting the sum of fifty-six thousand dollars, aban- 
 doned me 1 And whenever a few withdrew I was forced 
 to leave London, and go to the provinces to obtain others 
 to supply their places, in order to enable me to raise the 
 money to meet the expenses of engraving, coloring, pa- 
 per, printing, &c. ; and that with all my constant exer- 
 tions, fatigues, and vexations, I find myself now having 
 but one hundred and thirty standing names on my list. 
 
 " England is most wealthy, and among her swarms of 
 inhabitants there are many whom I personally know, and 
 to whom, if I were to open my heart, there would be a 
 readiness to help me for the sake of science j but my 
 heart revolts from asking such a favor, and I will con- 
 tinue to trust in that Providence which has helped me 
 thus far." 
 
 The sixth volume of the journal abruptly ends with 
 the above paragraph. But intimations are given in the 
 last chapter, of Audubon's intention to return to America 
 as soon as possible. He knew of regions which he had 
 not explored, where he felt confident he could make large 
 additions of new birds to his collection : and anxious to 
 enrich his store, after making the same careful prepara- 
 tions as before to have his work go on during his absence, 
 he sailed once more for his native land. 
 
 On September 3, 183 1, Audubon landed in New York. 
 After spending a few days with relatives and friends he 
 went to Boston, and was hospitably received by his 
 friends. There he remained but a short time, having re- 
 solved to spend the winter in East Florida. ' 
 
Florida, 209 
 
 All the most interesting incidents of what he called a 
 rather unprofitable expedition were woven by Audubon 
 into the striking episodes given in this and subsequent 
 chapters. 
 
 " Soon after landing at St. Augustine, in East Florida, 
 I formed an acquaintance with Dr. Simmons, Dr. Por- 
 cher, Judge Smith, the Misses Johnson, and many other 
 individuals, my intercourse with whom was as agreea- 
 ble as it was beneficial to me. While in this part of the 
 peninsula I followed my usual avocations, although with 
 little success, it being then winter. I had letters from the 
 secretaries of the navy and treasury of the United States, 
 to the commanding officers of vessels of war in the rev- 
 enue service, directing them to afford me any assistance 
 in their power ; and the schooner Shark having come to 
 St. Augustine, on her way to the St. John's river, I 
 presented my credentials to her commander. Lieutenant 
 Piercy, who readily, and with politeness, received me and 
 my assistants on board. We soon after set sail, with a 
 fair breeze. 
 
 " The strict attention to duty on board even this small 
 vessel of war afforded matter of surprise to me. Every- 
 thing w^ent on with the regularity of a chronometer : 
 orders were given, answered to, and accomplished, before 
 they ceased to vibrate on the ear. The neatness of the 
 crew equalled the cleanliness of the w^hite planks of the 
 deck ; the sails were in perfect condition, and built as the 
 Shark was for swift sailing, on she went bowling from 
 wave to wave. I thought that, while thus sailing, no feel- 
 ing but that of pleasure could exist in our breasts. Alas ! 
 how fleeting are our enjoyments. When we were almost 
 at the entrance of the river the wind changed, the sky be- 
 came clouded, and before many minutes had elapsed the 
 little bark was lying to, * like a duck,' as her commander 
 expressed himself. It blew a hurricane : let it blow% 
 
2IO Life of Audubon. 
 
 reader. At the break of day we were again at anchor 
 within the bar of St. Augustine. Our next attempt was 
 successful. Not many hours after we had crossed the bar 
 we perceived the star-like glimmer of the light in the j 
 great lantern at the entrance into the St. John's river. ; 
 This was before daylight j and as the crossing of the 
 sand-banks or bars which occur at the mouths of all the 
 streams of this peninsula is difficult, and can be accom- 
 plished only when the tide is up, one of the guns was fired 
 as a signal for the government pilot. The good man it 
 seemed was unwilling to leave his couch, but a second 
 gun brought him in his canoe alongside. The depth of 
 the channel was barely sufficient. My eyes, however, 
 were not directed towards the waters, but on high, where 
 flew some thousands of * snowy pelicans,' which had fled 
 affrighted from their resting grounds. How beautifully 
 they performed their broad gyrations, and how matchless 
 after a while, was the marshalling of their files as they 
 flew past us ! 
 
 " On the tide we proceeded apace. Myriads of cor- 
 morants covered the face of the waters, and over it the 
 fish-crows innumerable were already arriving from their 
 distant roosts. We landed at one place to search for 
 the birds whose charming melodies had engaged our at- 
 tention, and here and there we shot some young eagles, 
 to add to our store of fresh provision. The river did 
 not seem to me equal in beauty to the fair Ohio j the 
 shores were in many places low and swampy, to the great 
 delight of the numberless herons that moved along in 
 gracefulness, and the grim alligators that swam in slug- 
 gish sullenness. In going up a bayou we caught a great 
 number of the young of the latter, for the purpose of 
 making experiments upon them. After sailing a con- 
 siderable way, during which our commander and officers 
 took the soundings, as well as the angles and bearings of 
 
T!he St, Johns River. 2 1 1 
 
 every nook and crook of the sinuous stream, we anchored 
 one evening at a distance of fully one hundred miles from 
 the mouth of the river. The weather, although it was the 
 1 2th of Februar)', was quite wann, the thermometer on 
 board standing at 75°, and on shore at 90°. The fog 
 was so thick that neither of the shores could be seen, and 
 yet the river was not a mile in breadth. The * blind 
 mosquitoes ' covered every object, even in the cabin, and 
 so wonderfully abundant were these tormentors, that they 
 more ^\: ., once extinguished the candles whilst I was 
 writing my journal, which I closed in despair, crushing 
 between the leaves more than a hundred of the little 
 wretches. Bad as they are, however, these blind mos- 
 quitoes do not bite. As if purposely to render our situa-- 
 tion doubly uncomfortable, there was an establishment 
 for jerking beef on the nearer shore to the windward of 
 our vessel, from which the breeze car * laden with no 
 sweet odors. In the morning when I arose the country 
 was still covered with thick fogs, so that although I 
 could plainly hear the notes of the birds on shore, not 
 an object could I see beyond the bowsprit, and the air 
 was as close and sultry as on the previous evening. 
 
 " Guided by the scent of * jerkers' works,' we went on 
 shore, where we found the vegetation already far ad- 
 vanced. The blossoms of the jessamine, ever pleasing, 
 lay steeped in dew ; the humming-bee was collecting her 
 winter store from the snowv flowers of the native orano^e : 
 and the little warblers frisked about the twigs of the 
 smilax. Now, amid the tall pines of the forest, the sun's 
 rays began to force their way, and as the dense mists 
 dissolved in the atmosphere the bright luminary shone 
 forth. We explored the woods around, guided by seme 
 friendly ' liv^e oakers,' who had pitched their camp in the 
 vicinity. After a while the Shark again displayed her 
 sails, and as she silently glided along, we espied a Semi- 
 
2 1 2 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 nole Indian approaching us in his canoe. This poor de- 
 jected son of the woods, endowed with talents of the 
 highest order, although rarely acknowledged by the proud 
 usurpers of his native soil, has spent the night in fishing, 
 and the morning in procuring tlie superb feathered game 
 of the swampy thickets, and with both he comes to offer 
 them for our acceptance. Alas ! thou fallen one, de- 
 scendant of an ancient line of free-born hunters, would 
 that I could restore to thee thy birthright, thy natural in- 
 dependence, the generous feelings that were once foster- 
 ed in thy brave bosom ! But the irrevocable deed is 
 done, and I can merely admire the perfect symmetry of 
 his frame, as he dexterously throws on our deck the trout 
 and turkeys which he has captured. He receives a re- 
 compense, and without a smile or bow, or acknowledg- 
 ment of any kind, off he starts with the speed of an ar- 
 row from his own bow. 
 
 "Alligators were extremely abundant, and the heads 
 of the fishes which they had snapped off lay floating 
 arouhd on the dark waters. A rifle bullet was now and 
 then sent through the eye of one of the largest, which, 
 with a tremendous splash of its tail, expired. One morn- 
 ing we saw a monstrous fellow lying on the shore. I 
 was desirous of obtaining him, to make an accurate draw- 
 ing of his head, and, accompanied by my assistant and 
 two of the sailors, proceeded cautiously towards him. 
 When within a few yards, one of us fired, and sent 
 through his side an ounce ball, Avhich tore open a hole 
 large enough to receive a man's hand. He slowly raised 
 his head, bent himself upwards, opened his huge jaws, 
 swung his tail to and fro, rose on his legs, blew in a 
 frightful manner, and fell to the earth. My assistant 
 leaped on shore, and, contrary to my injunctions, caught 
 hold of the animal's tail, when the alligator, awakening 
 from its trance, with a last effort crawled slowly towards 
 
Alligators, 213 
 
 the water, and plunged heavily into it. Had he thought 
 of once flourishing his tremendous weapon, there might 
 have been an end of his assailant's life ; but he fortu- 
 nately went in peace to his grave, where we left him, as 
 the water was too deep. The same morning, another of 
 equal size was observed swimming directly for the bows 
 of our vessel, attracted by the gentle rippling of the 
 water there. One of the officers who had watched him 
 fired, and scattered his brains through the air, when he 
 tumbled and rolled at a fearful rate, blowing all the while 
 most furiously. The river was bloody for yards around, 
 but although the monster passed close by the vessel, we 
 could not secure him, and after a while he sank to the 
 bottom. 
 
 " Early one morning I hired a boat and two men, 
 with a view of returning to St. Augustine by a short cut. 
 Our baggage being placed on board, I bade adieu to the 
 officers and crew, and off we started. About four in the 
 afternoon we arrived at the short cut, forty miles distant 
 from our point of departure, and where we had expected 
 to procure a waggon, but were disappointed : so we laid 
 our things on the bank, and leaving one of my assistants 
 to look after them, I set out, accompanied by the other 
 and my Newfoundland dog. We had eighteen miles to 
 go, and as the sun was only two hours high, we struck off 
 at a good rate. Presently we entered a pine barren. 
 The country w^as as level as a floor ; our path, although 
 narrow, was well beaten, having been used by the Semi- 
 nole Indians for ages ; and the weather was calm, and 
 now and then a rivailet occurred, from which w-e quenched 
 our thirst, while the magnolias and other flowering plants 
 on its banks relieved the dull uniformity of the woods. 
 When the path separated into two branches, both seem- 
 ingly leading the same way, I would follow one, while 
 my companion took the other, and unless we met again 
 
21^ Life of Atiduhon. 
 
 in a short time, one of us would go across the interven 
 ing forest. The sun went down behind a cloud, and the 
 south-east breeze that sprung up at this moment sounded 
 dolefully among the tall pines. Along the eastern hori- 
 zon lay a bed of black vapor, which gradually rose, and 
 soon covered the heavens. The air felt hot and oppres- 
 sive, and we knew that a tempest was approaching. 
 Plato was now our guide, the white spots on his skin be- 
 ing the only objects we could discern amid the darkness ; 
 and as if aware of his utility in this respect, he kept a 
 short way before us on the trail. Had we imagined our- 
 selves more than a few miles from the town, we would 
 have made a camp, and remained under its shelter for 
 the night ; but conceiving that the distance could not be 
 great, we resolved to trudge along. Large drops began 
 to fall from the murky mass overhead j thick impenetra- 
 ble darkness surrounded us, and, to my dismay, the dog 
 refused to proceed. Groping with my hands on the 
 ground, I discovered that several trails branched out at 
 the spot where he lay down, and when I had selected 
 one he went on. Vivid flashes of lightning streamed 
 across the heavens, the wind increased to a gale, and the 
 rain poured down upon us like a torrent. The water 
 soon rose on the level ground, so as almost to cover our 
 feet, and we slowly advanced, fronting the tempest. 
 Here and there a tall pine on fire presented a magnifi- 
 cent spectacle, illumining the trees around it, and sur- 
 rounded with a halo of dim light, abruptly bordered with 
 the deep black of the night. At one time we passed 
 through a tangled thicket of low trees, at another crossed 
 a stream flushed by the heavy rains, and again proceed- 
 ed over the barrens. How long we thus, half lost, 
 groped our way, is more than I can tell you, but at length 
 the tempest passed over, and suddenly the clear sky be- 
 came spangled with stars. Soon after we smelt the salt 
 
Out of the PFoods. 215 
 
 marshes, and walking directly towards them, like pointers 
 advancing on a covey of partridges, we at last, to our 
 great joy, descried the light of the beacon near St. Au- 
 gustine. My dog began to run briskly around, and hav- 
 ing mot with ground on which he had hunted before, and 
 taking a direct course, led us to the great causeway that 
 crosses the marshes at the back of the town. We re- 
 freshed ourselves with the produce of the first orange-tree 
 that we met with, and in half an hour more arrived at our 
 hotel. Drenched with rain, steaming with perspiration, 
 and covered to the knees with mud, you may imagine 
 what figures we cut in the eyes of the good people whom 
 we found snugly enjoying themselves in the sitting-room. 
 Next morning Major Gates, who had received me with 
 much kindness, sent a waggon with mules and two trusty 
 soldiers for my companion and the luggage." 
 
CHAPTER XV, 
 
 Floridian Episodes — The Live Oakers. 
 
 HE greater part of the forests of East Florida 
 consists principally, of what in that country are 
 called *pine barrens.* In these districts the 
 woods are rather thin, and the only trees that are seen in 
 them are tall pines, of rather indifferent quality, beneath 
 which is a growth of rank grass, here and there mixed 
 with low bushes and sword palmettoes. The soil is of a 
 sandy nature, mostly flat, and consequently either covered 
 with water during the rainy season, or parched in the 
 summer and autumn, although you meet at times with 
 ponds of stagnant water, where the cattle — which are 
 abundant — allay their thirst, and around which resort the 
 various kinds of game found in these wilds. The travel- 
 ler who has pursued his course for many miles over the 
 barrens, is suddenly delighted to see in the distance the 
 appearance of a dark 'hummock' of live oaks and other 
 trees, seeming as if they had been planted in the wilder- 
 ness. As he approaches, the air feels cooler and more 
 salubrious, the song of numerous birds delights his ear, 
 the herbage assumes a more luxuriant appearance, the 
 flowers become larger and brighter, and a grateful fra- 
 grance is diffused around. These objects contribute to 
 refresh his mind, as much as the sight of the waters of 
 some clear spring, gliding among the undergrowth, seems 
 already to allay his thirst. Overhead festoons of innu- 
 merable vines, jessamines, and bignonias, link each tree 
 with those around it, their slender stems being interlaced 
 
Woodcutters, 217 
 
 as if in mutual affection. No sooner in the shade of 
 these beautiful woods has the traveller finished his mid- 
 day repast, than he perceives small parties of men, lightly 
 accoutred, and each bearing an axe, approaching towards 
 his resting-place. They exchange the usual civilities, and 
 immediately commence their labors, for they too have just 
 nnished their meal. I think I see them proceeding to 
 their work. Here two have stationed themselves on the 
 opposite sides of the trunk of a noble and venerable live 
 oak. Their keen-edged and well-tempered axes seem to 
 make no impression on it, so small are the chips that drop 
 at each blow around the mossy and wide-spreading roots. 
 There one is ascending the stem of another, the arms of 
 which in its fall, have stuck among the tangled tops of 
 the neighboring trees. See how cautiously he proceeds, 
 barefooted, and with a handkerchief around his head ; 
 now he has climbed to the height of about forty feet from 
 the ground ; he stops, and squaring himself with the trunk 
 on which he so boldly stands, he wields with sinewy arms 
 his trusty blade, the repeated blows of which, — although 
 the tree be as tough as it is large, — will soon sever it in 
 two. He has changed sides, and his back is turned to 
 you. ^he "unk now remains connected by only a thin 
 strip of wo*. He places his feet on the part which is 
 lodged, and si es it with all his might. Now swings 
 the huge log ur . m his leaps, now it suddenly gives way, 
 and as it strikes upon the ground, its echoes are repeated 
 tlirough the hummock, and every wild turkey within hear- 
 ing utters his gobble of recognition. The woodcutter, 
 however, remains 'collected and composed,' but the next 
 moment he throws his axe to the ground, and assisted by 
 the nearest grape-vine, slides down, and reaches the earth 
 in an instant. Several men approach and examine the pros- 
 trate trunk. They cut at both extremities, and sound the 
 whole of the bark, to enable them to judge if the tree 
 10 
 
2 1 8 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 has been attacked by white rot. If such has unfortunate- 
 ly been the case, there, for a century or more, this huge 
 log will remain, till it gradually crumbles ; but if not, and 
 it is free of injury or Svind shakes,* while there is no ap- 
 pearance of the sap having already ascended, and its 
 pores are altogether sound, they proceed to take its meas- 
 urement. Its shape ascertained, and the timber that is 
 fit for use laid out by the aid of models, which, like frag- 
 ments of the skeleton of a ship, show the forms and sizes 
 required, the ' hewers ' commence their labors. 
 
 " Thus, reader, perhaps every known hummock in the 
 Floridas is annually attacked ; and so often does it hap- 
 pen that the white rot, or some other disease, has deteri- 
 orated the quality of the timber, that the w^oods may be 
 seen strev/n with trunks that have been found worthless, 
 so that every year these valuable oaks are becoming 
 scarcer. The destruction of the young trees of this spe- 
 cies, caused by the fall of the great trunks, is of course 
 immense ; and as there are no artificial plantations of 
 these trees in our country, before long a good-sized live 
 oak will be so valuable, that its owner will exact an 
 enormous price for it, even while it yet stands in the 
 wood. In my opinion, formed on personal observation, 
 live-oak hummocks are not quite as plentiful as they are 
 represented to be ; and of this I will give you one illus- 
 tration. 
 
 "On the 25th of February, 1832, I happened to be 
 far up St. John's River, East Florida, in company with a 
 person employed by our government in protecting the * live 
 oaks' of that section of the country, and who received a 
 good salary for his trouble. While we were proceeding 
 along one of the banks of that most singular river, my 
 companion pointed out some large hummocks of dark- 
 leaved trees on the opposite side, which he said were en- 
 tirely formed of live oaks. I thought differently, and as 
 
" Live Oakersy 2 1 9 
 
 our controversy on the subject became a little warm, I 
 proposed that our men should row us to the place, where 
 we might examine the leaves and timber, and so decide 
 the point. We soon landed, but after inspecting the 
 woods, not a single tree of the species did we find, al- 
 though there were thousands of large ' swamp oaks.' My 
 companion acknowledged his mistake, and I continued to 
 search for birds. 
 
 " One dark evening, as I was seated on the banks of 
 the same river, considering what arrangenicnts I should 
 make for the night, — as it began to rain in torrents, — a 
 man, who happened to see me, came up and invited me 
 to go to his cabin, which he said was not far off. I ac- 
 cepted this kind offer, and followed him to his humble 
 dwelling. There I found his wife, several children, and 
 a number of men, who, as my host told me, were, like 
 himself, Mive oakers.' Supper was placed on a large ta- 
 ble, and on being desired to join the party, I willingly 
 assented, doing my best to diminish the contents of the 
 tin pans and dishes set before the company by the active 
 and agreeable housewife. We then talked of the country, 
 its climate and productions, until a late hour, when we 
 laid ourselves down on bear-skins, and reposed till day- 
 break. 
 
 " I longed to accompany these hardy woodcutters to the 
 hummock, where they were engaged in preparing live oak 
 timber for a man-of-war. Provided with axes and guns, 
 we left the house to the care of the wife and children, and 
 proceeded for several miles through a pine barren, such 
 as I have attempted to describe. One fine old turkey 
 was shot, and when we arrived at the shant}^, put up near 
 the hummock, we found another party of woodcutters 
 waiting our arrival before eating their breakfast, already 
 prepared by a negro man, to whom the turkey was con- 
 signed, to be roasted for a part of that day's dinner. 
 
220 Life of Audubon. 
 
 Our repast was an excellent one, and vied with a Ken 
 tucky breakfast. Beef, fish, potatoes and other vege- 
 tables, were served up with coffee in tin cups, and plenty 
 of biscuit. Every man seemed hungry and happy, and 
 the conversation assumed the most humorous character. 
 The sun now rose above the trees^ and all excepting the 
 cook proceeded to the hummock, on which I had been 
 gazing with great delight, as it promised rare sport. My 
 host, I found, was the chief of the party ; and although 
 he had an axe, he made no other use of it than for strip- 
 ping here and there pieces of bark from certain trees, 
 which he considered of doubtful soundness. He was not 
 only well versed in his profession, but generally intelli- 
 gent, and from him I received the following account, 
 which I noted at the time. 
 
 "The men employed in cutting the live oak, after 
 having discovered a good hummock, build shanties of 
 small logs, to retire to at night and feed in by day. Their 
 provisions consist of beef, pork, potatoes, biscuit, rice, 
 flour, and fish, together with excellent whiskey. They 
 are mostly hale, strong, and active men, from the eastern 
 parts of the Union, and receive excellent wages, accord- 
 ing to their different abilities. Their labors are only of a 
 few months' duration. Such hummocks as are found near 
 navigable streams are first chosen, and when it is abso- 
 lutely necessary, this timber is hauled five or six miles to 
 the nearest water-course, where, although it sinks, it can, 
 with comparative ease, be shipped to its destination. 
 The best time for cutting the * live oak' is considered to 
 be from the first of December to the first of March, or 
 while the sap is completely down. When the sap is flow- 
 ing the tree is * bloom,' and more apt to be 'shaken.' 
 The white rot, which occurs so frequently in the live oak, 
 and is perceptible only by the best judges, consists of 
 round spots, about an inch and a half in diameter, on the 
 
White Rot, 221 
 
 outside of the bark, through which, at that spot, a hard 
 stick may be driven several inches, and generally follows 
 the heart up or down the trunk of the tree. So deceiving 
 are these spots and trees to persons unacquainted with this 
 defect, that thousands of trees are cut and abandoned. 
 The great number of trees of this sort strewn in the woods 
 would tend to make a stranger believe that there is much 
 more good oak in the country than there really is ; and 
 perhaps, in realit}^, not more than one fourth of the quan- 
 tity usually reported is to be procured. The * live oakers ' 
 generally revisit their distant homes in the middle and 
 eastern states, where they spend the summer, returning 
 to the Floridas at the approach of winter. Some, how- 
 ever, w^ho have gone there with their families, remain for 
 years in succession, although they suffer much from the 
 climate, by which their once good constitutions are often 
 greatly impaired. This was the case with the individual 
 above mentioned, from whom I subsequently received 
 much friendly assistance in my pursuits." 
 
 
CHAPTER XVL 
 
 Second Florida Episode : The Lost One. 
 
 'LIVE OAKER ' employed on the St. John's 
 River, in East Florida, left his cabin — situated 
 on the banks of that stream — and, with an axe 
 on his shoulder, proceeded towards the swamp, in which 
 he had several times before plied his trade of felling and 
 squaring the giant trees that afford the most valuable tim- 
 ber for naval architecture and other purposes. At the 
 season which is the best for this kind of labor, heavy fogs 
 not unfrequently cover the country, so as to render it diffi- 
 cult for one to see farther than thirty or forty yards in any 
 direction. The woods, too, present so little variety, that 
 every tree seems the mere counterpart of every other ; 
 and the grass, when it has not been burnt, is so tall, that 
 a man of ordinary stature cannot see over it ; whence it 
 is necessary for him to proceed with great caution, lest he 
 should unwittingly deviate from the ill-defined trail which 
 he follows. To increase the difficulty, several trails often 
 meet, in which case — unless the explorer be perfectly ac- 
 quainted with the neighborhood — it would be well for him 
 to lie down and wait until the fog should disperse. The 
 live oaker had been jogging onwards for several hours, and 
 became aware that he must have travelled considerably 
 more than the distance between his cabin and the * hum- 
 mock ' which he desired to reach. To his alarm, at the 
 moment when the fog dispersed, he saw that the sun was 
 at its meridiin height, and he could not recognize a single 
 object around him. Young, healthy, and active, he im- 
 
Florida Episode. 223 
 
 agined that he had walked with more than usual speed, 
 and had passed the place to which he was bound. He 
 accordingly turned his back upon the sun, and pursued a 
 ' different route, guided by a small trail. Time passed, and 
 the sun headed his course ; he saw it gradually descend 
 in the west, but all around him continued as if enveloped 
 with mystery. The huge gray trees spread their giant 
 boughs over him, the rank grass extended on all sides, 
 nof a living being crossed his path; all was silent and 
 still, and the scene was like a dull and dreary dream of 
 the land of oblivion. He wandered like a forgotten ghost 
 that had passed into the land of spirits, without yet meet- 
 ing one of his kind with whom to hold converse. 
 
 " The condition of a man lost in the woods is one of 
 the most perplexing that could be imagined by a person 
 who has not himself been in a like predicament. Every 
 object he sees he at first thinks he recognizes ; and while 
 his whole mind is bent on searching for more that may 
 gradually lead to his extrication, he goes on committing 
 greater errors the farther he proceeds. This was the case 
 with the live oaker. The sun was now setting with a fiery 
 aspect, and by degrees it sunk in its full circular form, as 
 if giving warning of a sultry to-morrow. Myriads of in- 
 sects, delighted at its departure, now filled the air on buzz- 
 ing wings. Each piping frog arose from the muddy pool 
 in which it had concealed itself, the squirrel retired to its 
 hole, the crow to its roost, and, far above, the harsh croak- 
 ing voice of the heron announced that, full of anxiet}", it 
 was wending its way to the mir}- interior of some distant 
 swamp. Now the woods began to resound to the shrill 
 cries of the owl and the breeze, as it swept among the 
 columnar stems of the forest trees, laden with hea\y and 
 chilling dew. Alas ! no moon, with her silvery light, 
 shone on the dreary scene, and the lost one^ wearied and 
 vexed, laid himself down on the damp ground. Prayer 
 
224 Life of Audubon, 
 
 is alwa}S consolatory toman in every difficulty or danger, 
 and the woodsman fervently prayed to his Maker, wished 
 his family a happier night than it was his lot to experi- 
 ence, and with a feverish anxiety waited the return of day. ' 
 You may imagine the length of that cold, dull, moonless 
 night. With the dawn of day came the usual fogs of those 
 latitudes. The poor man started on his feet, and with a 
 sorrowful heart pursued a course which he thought might 
 lead him to some familiar object, although, indeed, he 
 scarcely knew what he was doing. No longer had he the 
 trace of a track to guide him, and yet, as the sun rose, he 
 calculated the many hours of daylight he had before him, 
 and the farther he went, continued to walk the faster. 
 But vain were all his hopes : that day was spent in fruit- 
 less endeavors to regain the path that led to his home, 
 and when night again approached, the terror that had 
 been gradually spreading over his mind — together with 
 the nervous debility induced by fatigue, anxiety, and hun- 
 ger — rendered him almost frantic. He told me that at 
 this moment he beat his breast, tore his hair, and, had it 
 not been for the piety with which his parents had in early 
 life imbued his mind, and which had become habitual, 
 would have cursed his existence. 
 
 " Famished as he now was, he laid himself on the 
 ground, and fed on the weeds and grass that grew around 
 him. That night was spent in the greatest agony and 
 terror. * I knew my situation,' he said to me. * I was 
 fully aware that, unless Almighty God came to my assist- 
 ance, I must perish in those uninhabited woods. I knew 
 that I had walked more than fifty miles, although I had 
 not met with a brook from which I could quench my 
 thirst, or even allay the burning heat of my parched lips 
 and bloodshot eyes. . ^/ 
 
 " * I knew that if I could not meet with some stream I 
 must die, for my axe was my only weapon ; and although 
 
A 'Tortoise, ' 225 
 
 deer and bears now and then started within a few yards 
 or even feet of me, not one of them could I kill ; and al- 
 though I was in the midst of abundance, not a mouthful 
 did I expect to procure, to satisfy the cravings of my 
 empty stomach. Sir, may God preserve you from ever 
 feeling as I did the whole of that day ! ' For several days 
 after no one can imagine the condition in which he was, 
 for when he related to me this painful adventure^ he as- 
 sured me he had lost all recollection of what had hap- 
 pened. * God,' he continued, ^ must have taken pity on 
 me, one day, for as I ran wildly through those dreadful 
 pine barrens I met with a tortoise. I gazed upon it with 
 delight and amazement, and although I knew that, were I 
 to follow it undisturbed, it would lead me to some water, 
 my hunger and thirst would not allow me to refrain from 
 satisfying both by eating its flesh and drinking its blood. 
 AVith one stroke of my axe the beast was cut in two ; in a 
 few moments I despatched all but the shell. Oh, sir, 
 how much I thanked God, whose kindness had put the 
 tortoise in my way ! I felt greatly renewed. I sat down 
 at the foot, of a pine, gazed on the heavens, thought of my 
 poor wife and children, and again and again thanked my 
 God for my life, for now I felt less distracted in mind, and 
 more assured that before long I must recover my way, 
 and get back to my home.* The lost one remained and 
 passed the night at the foot of the same tree under which 
 his repast had been made. Refreshed by a sound sleep, 
 he started at dawn to resume his wear}^ march. The sun 
 rose bright, and he followed the direction of his shadows. 
 Still the dreariness of the woods was the same, and he 
 was on the point of giving up in despair, when he observed 
 a raccoon lying squatted in the grass. Raising his axe, 
 he drove it with such violence through the helpless ani- 
 mal, that it expired without a struggle. What he had 
 done with the turtle he now did with the raccoon, the 
 10* 
 
226 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 greater part of which he actually devoured at one meal 
 With more comfortable feelings he then resumed his wan- 
 derings, — his journey I cannot say, — for although in the 
 possession of all his faculties, and in broad daylight, he 
 was worse off than a lame man groping his way in the 
 dark out of a dungeon, of which he knew not where the 
 door stood. Days one after another passed — nay, weeks 
 in succession. He fed now on cabbage trees, then on 
 frogs and snakes. All that fell in his way was welcome 
 and savory. Yet he became daily more emaciated, and 
 at length he could scarcely crawl j fort}^ days had elapsed, 
 by his own reckoning, when he at last reached the banks 
 of the river. His clothes in tatters, his once bright axe 
 dimmed with rust, his face begrimed with beard, his hair 
 matted, and his feeble frame little better than a skeleton 
 covered with parchment, there he laid himself down to 
 die. Amid the perturbed dreams of his fevered fancy, he 
 thought he heard the noise of oars far away on the silent 
 river. He listened, but the sounds died away on his 
 ear. It was indeed a dream, the last glimmer of expir- 
 ing hope, and now the light of life was about to be 
 quenched for ever. But again the sound of oars awoke 
 him from his lethargy. He listened so eagerly that the 
 hum of a fly could not have escaped his ear. They were 
 indeed the measured beats of oars ; and now, joy to the 
 forlorn soul ! the sound of human voices thrilled to his 
 heart, and awoke the tumultuous pulses of returning hope. 
 On his knees did the eye of God see that poor man, by 
 the broad, still stream, that glittered in the sunbeams, and 
 human eyes soon saw him too, for round that headland 
 covered with tangled brushwood boldly advances the lit- 
 tle boat, propelled by its lusty rowers. The lost one 
 raises his feeble voice on high ; it was a loud shrill scream 
 of joy and fear. The row^ers pause, and look around. 
 Another, but feebler scream, and they observe him. It 
 
Saved, 227 
 
 comes — ^his heart flutters, his sight is dimmed, his brain 
 reels, he gasps for breath ! It comes — it has run upon 
 the beach, and the lost one is found. 
 
 " This is no tale of fiction, but the relation of an act- 
 ual occurrence, which might be embellished, no doubt, but 
 which is better in the plain garb of truth. The notes by 
 which I recorded it were written in the cabin of the once 
 lost * live oaker,' about four years after the painful inci- 
 dent occurred. His amiable wife and loving children 
 were present at the recital, and never shall I forget the 
 tears that flowed from them as they listened to it, albeit it 
 had long been more familiar to them than a tale thrice 
 told. It only remains for me to say that the distance be- 
 tween the cabin and the live oak hummock to which the 
 woodsman was bound scarcely exceeded eight miles, 
 while the part of the river at which he was found was 
 thirty-eight miles from his house. Calculating his daily 
 wanderings at ten miles, we may believe that they 
 amounted in all to four hundred. He must therefore 
 have rambled in a circuitous direction, which people gen- 
 erally do in such circumstances. Nothing but the great 
 strength of his constitution and the merciful aid of his 
 Maker could have supported him for so long a time." 
 
\ <-- 
 
 w^-' 
 
 :«^' 
 m 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Third Florida Episode: Spring Garden. 
 
 ^A VING heard many wonderful accounts of a 
 certain spring near the sources of the St. John's 
 [ River, in East Florida, I resolved to visit it, in 
 order to judge for myself. On the 6th of January, 1832, 
 I left the plantation of my friend John Bulovv, accompa- 
 nied by an amiable and accomplished Scotch gentleman, 
 an engineer employed by the planters of those districts 
 in erecting their sugar-house establishments. We were 
 mounted on horses of the Indian breed, remarkable for 
 their activity and strength, and were provided with guns 
 and some provision. The weather was pleasant, but not 
 so our way, for no sooner had we left the * King's Road,' 
 which had been cut by the Spanish government for a 
 goodly distance, than we entered a thicket of scrubby 
 oaks, succeeded by a still denser mass of low palmettoes, 
 which extended about three miles, and among the roots 
 of which our nags had great difficulty in making good 
 their footing. 
 
 " After this we entered the pine barrens, so extensive- 
 ly distributed in this portion of Florida. The sand seemed 
 to be all sand, and nothing but sand, and the palmettoes 
 at times so covered the narrow Indian trail which we fol- 
 lowed, that it required all the instinct or sagacity of our- 
 selves and our horses to keep it. It seemed to us as if 
 we were approaching the end of the world. The coun- 
 try was perfectly flat, and, so far as we could survey it, 
 presented the same wild and scraggy aspect. My com- 
 panion, who had travelled there before, assured me that 
 
Haw Creeh 229 
 
 at particular seasons of the year he had crossed the bar- 
 rens when they were covered with water fully knee-deep, 
 when, according to his expression, they ^ looked most 
 awful ; * and I readily believed him, as we now^ and then 
 passed through muddy pools which reached the saddle- 
 girtbs of our horses. Here and there large tracts covered 
 with tall grasses, and resembling the prairies of the w^est- 
 ern wilds, opened to our view. Wherever the country 
 happened to be sunk a little beneath the general level, it 
 was covered with cypress-trees, whose spreading arms 
 wei^ hung with a profusion of Spanish moss. The soil 
 in such cases consisted of black mud, and was densely 
 covered with bushes, chiefly of the magnolia family. We 
 crossed in succession the heads of three branches of Haw 
 Creek, of which the waters spread from a quarter to 
 half a mile in breadth, and through which we made our 
 way with extreme difficulty. While in the middle of one, 
 my companion told me that once, when in the very spot 
 where he then stood, his horse chanced to place his fore- 
 feet on the back of a large alligator, which, not well pleas- 
 ed at being disturbed in his repose, suddenly raised his 
 head, opened his monstrous jaws, and snapped off a part 
 of the lip of his affrighted pony. You may imagine the 
 terror of the poor beast, which, however, after a few plun- 
 ges, resumed its course, and succeeded in carrying its 
 rider through in safety. As a reward for this achievement 
 it \\z.s ever after honored with the appellation of * Alliga- 
 tor.' 
 
 " We had now travelled about twenty miles, and the 
 sun having reached the zenith, we dismounted to partake 
 of some refreshment. From a muddy pool we contrived 
 to obtain enough of tolerably clear water to mix with the 
 contents of a bottle, the like of which I would strongly 
 recommend to every traveller in these swampy regions. 
 Our horses, too, found something to grind among the herb- 
 
2 JO Life of Audubon. 
 
 age that surrounded the little pool ; but as little time 
 was to be lost, we quickly remounted and resumed oui 
 disagreeable journey, during which we had at no time 
 proceeded at a rate exceeding two miles and a half in the 
 hour. All at once, however, a wonderful change took 
 place ; the country became more elevated and undulating, 
 the timber was of a different nature, and consisted of red 
 and live oaks, magnolias, and several kinds of pine. 
 Thousands of * mole-hills,' or the habitations of an an- 
 imal here called the * salamander,' and Gopher's burrows, 
 presented themselves to the eye, and greatly annoyed our 
 horses, which every now and then sank to the depth of a 
 foot and stumbled, at the risk of breaking their legs, and 
 what we considered fully as valuable — our necks. We 
 now saw beautiful lakes of the purest water, and passed 
 along a green space having a series of them on each side 
 of us. These sheets of water became larger and more 
 numerous the farther we advanced, some of them extend- 
 ing to a length of several miles, and having a depth of 
 from two to twenty feet of clear water ; but their shores 
 being destitute of vegetation we observed no birds near 
 them. Many tortoises, however, were seen basking in 
 the sun, and all as we approached plunged into the v/ater. 
 Not a trace of man did we see during our journey, scarce- 
 ly a bird, and not a single quadruped, not even a rat ; 
 nor can one imagine a poorer and more desolate country 
 than that which lies between the Halifax River, which we 
 had left in the morning, and the undulated grounds at 
 which we had now arrived. 
 
 " But at length we perceived the tracks of living be- 
 ings, and soon after saw the huts of Colonel Rees' negroes. 
 Scarcely could ever African traveller have approached 
 the city of Timbuctoo with more excited curiosity than 
 we felt in approaching this plantation. Our Indian hors- 
 es seemed to participate in our joy, and trotted at a 
 
A Sulphur- spring. 231 
 
 smart rate towards the principal building, at the door of 
 which we leaped from our saddles, just as the sun was 
 withdrawing his ruddy light. Colonel Rees was at home, 
 and received us with great kindness. Refreshments were 
 immediately placed before us, and we spent the evening 
 in agreeable conversation. 
 
 " The next day I walked over the plantation, examin- 
 ing the country around, and found the soil of good qual- 
 ity, it having been reclaimed from swampy ground, of a 
 black color, rich, and very productive. The greater part 
 of the cultivated land was on the borders of a lake which 
 communicated with others leading to St. John's River, 
 distant about seven miles, and navigable so far by vessels 
 not exceeding fifty or sixty tons. After breakfast our 
 amiable host showed us the way to the celebrated spring, 
 the sight of which afforded me pleasure sufficient to coun- 
 terbalance the tediousness of my journey. 
 
 " This spring presents a circular basin, having a diam- 
 eter of about sixty feet, from the centre of which the 
 water is thrown up with great force, although it does not 
 rise to a height of more than a few inches above the gen- 
 eral level. A kind of whirlpool is formed, on the edges 
 of which are deposited vast quantities of shells, with pie- 
 ces of wood, gravel, and other substances, which have 
 coalesced into solid masses, having a very curious ap- 
 pearance. The water is quite transparent, although of a 
 dark color, but so impregnated with sulphur, that it emits 
 an odor which to me was very disagreeable, and highly 
 nauseous. Its surface lies fifteen or twenty feet below the 
 level of the woodland lakes in the neighborhood, and its 
 depth in the autumnal months is about seventeen feet 
 when the water is lowest. In all the lakes the same spe- 
 cies of shells as are thrown up by the spring occur in 
 abundance ; and it seems more than probable that it is 
 formed of the water collected from them by infiltration, 
 
232 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 or forms the subterranean outlet of some of them. The 
 Lakes themselves are merely reservoirs containing the 
 residue of the waters which fall during the rainy seasons, 
 and contributing to supply the waters of the St. John's 
 River, with which they communicate by similar means. 
 This spring pours its waters into * Rees' Lake,' through a 
 deep and broad channel called Spring Garden Creek. 
 This channel is said to be in some places fully sixty feet 
 deep, but it becomes more shallow as you advance to- 
 wards the entrance of the lake, at which you are surprised 
 to find yourself on a mud flat covered only by about fif- 
 teen inches of water, under which the depositions from 
 the spring lie to a depth of four or five feet in the form 
 of the softest mud, while under this again is a bed of fine 
 white sand. When this mud is stirred up by the oars of 
 your boat or otherwise, it appears of a dark-green color, 
 and smells strongly of sulphur. At all times it sends up 
 numerous bubbles of air, which probably comes of sul- 
 phuretted hydrogen gas. The mouth of this curious 
 spring is calculated to be two and a half feet square, and 
 the velocity of its waters during the rainy season is three 
 feet per second. This would render the discharge per 
 hour about 499-500 gallons. 
 
 ** Colonel Rees showed us the remains of another 
 spring of the same kind, which had dried up from some 
 natural cause. 
 
 " My companion the engineer having occupation for 
 another day, I requested Colonel Rees to accompany me 
 in his boat towards the river St. John, which I was 
 desirous of seeing, as well as the curious country in its 
 neighborhood. He readily agreed, and after an early 
 breakfast next morning, we set out, accompanied by two 
 servants to manage the boat. As we crossed ' Rees' Lake 
 I observed that its north-eastern shores were bounded by 
 a deep swamp, covered by a rich growth of tall cypresses, 
 
WoOilruff's Lake, 233 
 
 while the opposite side presented large marshes and isl- 
 ands ornamented by pines, live oaks, and orange-trees. 
 
 " With the exception of a very narrow channel, th« 
 creek was covered with nymphece, and in its waters swam 
 numerous alligators, while ibises, gallinules, anhingas, 
 coots, and cormorants were pursuing their avocations on 
 its surface or along its margins. Over our heads the fish- 
 hawks were sailing, and on the broken trees around we 
 saw many of their nests. We followed Spring Garden 
 Creek for about two miles and a half, and passed a 
 mud-bar before we entered * Dexter's Lake. The bar 
 was stuck full of unios in such profusion, that each 
 time the negroes thrust their hands into the mud they 
 took up several. According to their report these shell- 
 fish are quite unfit for food. In tliis lake the water had 
 changed its hue, and assumed a dark chestnut color, 
 although it was still transparent. The depth was uniform- 
 ly five feet, and the extent of the lake was about eight 
 miles by three. Having crossed it, we followed the creek 
 and soon saw the entrance of * WoodrufTs Lake, * which 
 empties its still darker waters into the St. John's River. 
 I here shot a pair of curious ibises, which you will find 
 described in my fourth volume of ornithology, and landed 
 on a small island covered with wild orange-trees, the lux- 
 uriance and freshness of which were not less pleasing to 
 the sight 'than the perfume of their flowers was to the 
 smell. The group seemed to me like a rich bouquet 
 formed by nature to afford consolation to the weary trav- 
 eller cast down by the dismal scenery of swamps, and 
 pools, and rank grass around him. Under the shade of 
 these beautiful evergreens, and amidst the golden fmits 
 that covered the ground, while the humming-birds flut- 
 tered over our heads, we spread our cloth on the grass, 
 and, with a happy and thankful heart, I refreshed mysell 
 with the bountiful gifts of an ever-careful Providence. 
 
234 
 
 Life of Audubon, 
 
 Colonel Rees informed me that this charming retreat 
 was one of the numerous terrcB incognitce of this region of 
 lakes, and that it should henceforth bear the name of 
 'Audubon's Isle.' 
 
 " In conclusion, let me inform you that the spring has 
 now been turned to good account by my generous host. 
 Colonel Rees, who, aided by my amiable companion the 
 engineer, has directed its current so as to turn a mill 
 which suffices to grind the whole of his sugar-cane." 
 

 CHAPTER XVIII, 
 
 Fifth Florida Efisode : Deer Hunting. 
 
 j HE different modes of destroying deer are proba* 
 bly too well understood and too successfully 
 practised in the United States; for notwith- 
 standing the almost incredible abundance of these beau- 
 tiful animals in our forests and prairies, such havoc is 
 carried on amongst them, that in a few centuries they 
 will probably be as scarce in America as the great bus- 
 tard now is in Britain. 
 
 " We have three modes of hunting deer, each varying 
 in some slight degree in the different states and districts. 
 The first is termed * still hunting,' and is by far the most 
 destructive. The second is called * fire-light hunting,' 
 and is next in its exterminating effects. The third, which 
 may be looked upon as a mere amusement, is named 
 driving.' Although many deer are destroyed by this 
 latter method, it is not by any means so pernicious as 
 the others. These methods I shall describe separately. 
 
 " ' Still hunting ' is followed as a kind of trade by 
 most of our frontier men. To be practised with success, 
 it requires great activity, an expert management of the 
 rifle, and a thorough knowledge of the forest, together 
 with an intimate acquaintance with the habits of the 
 deer, not only at different seasons of the year, but also 
 at every hour of the day, as the hunter must be aware 
 of the situations which the game prefers, and in which it 
 is most likely to be found at any particular time. I 
 might here present you with a full account of the habits 
 
2j6 Life of Audubon, 
 
 of our deer, were it not my intention to lay before youj 
 at some future period, in the form of a distinct work, the 
 observations which I have made on the various quadru- 
 peds of our extensive territories. 
 
 " We shall suppose that we are now about to follow 
 the true hunter, as the still hunter is also called, through 
 the interior of the tangled woods, across morasses, ra- 
 vines, and such places, where the game may prove more 
 or less plentiful, even should none be found there in the 
 first instance. We shall allow our hunter all the agilit\', 
 patience, and care which his occupation requires, and 
 will march in his rear, as if we were spies watching all 
 his motions. His dress, you observe, consists of a leath- 
 ern hunting-shirt, and a pair of trousers of the same ma- 
 terial. His feet are well moccasined ; he wears a belt 
 round his waist ; his heavy rifle is resting on his brawny 
 shoulder j on one side hangs his ball-pouch, surmounted 
 by the horn of an ancient buffalo, once the terror of the 
 herd, but now containing a pound of the best gunpowder. 
 His butcher-knife is scabbarded in the same strap ; and 
 behind is a tomahawk, the handle of which has been 
 thrust through his girdle. He walks with so rapid a step 
 that probably few men besides ourselves, that is, myself 
 and my kind reader, could follow him, unless for a short 
 distance, in their anxiety to witness his ruthless deeds. 
 He stops, looks at the flint of his gun, its priming, and 
 the leather cover of the lock, then glances his eye to- 
 wards the sky, to judge of the course most likely to lead 
 him to the game. 
 
 " The heavens are clear, the red glare of the sun 
 gleams through the lower branches of the lofty trees, 
 the dew hangs in pearly drops at the top of every leaf. 
 Already has the emerald hue of the foliage been convert- 
 ed into the more glowing tints of our autumnal months. 
 A slight frost appears on the fence rails of his little 
 corn-field. 
 
Deer-Hunting, 237 
 
 " As he proceeds he looks to the dead foliage under 
 his feet, in search of the well-known traces of a buck's 
 hoof Now he bends toward the ground, on which some- 
 thing has attracted his attention. See, he alters his 
 course, increases his speed, and will soon reach the op- 
 posite hill. Now he moves with caution, stops at almost 
 every tree, and peeps forward, as if already within shoot- 
 ing distance of his game. He advances again ; but now 
 very slowly. He has reached the declivity, upon which 
 the sun shines in all its glowing splendor ; but mark him, 
 he takes the gun from his shoulder, has already thrown 
 aside the leather covering of the lock, and is wiping the 
 edge of his flint with his tongue. Now he stands like a 
 monumental figure, perhaps measuring the distance that 
 lies between him and the game which he has in view. 
 His rifle is slowly raised, the report follows, and he runs. 
 Let us run also, ohall I speak to him, and ask him the 
 result of his first essay ? * Pray, friend, what have you 
 killed ? ' for to say, * What have you shot at ? ' might im- 
 ply the possibility of his having missed, and so might 
 hurt his feelings. * Nothing but a buck.' * And where 
 is it ? ' * Oh, it has taken a jump or so, but I settled it, 
 and will soon be with it. My ball struck, and mus' have 
 gone through his heart' We arrived at the spot where 
 the animal had laid itself down on the grass, in a thicket 
 of grape-vines, sumachs, and spruce-bushes, where it in- 
 tended to repose during the middle of the day. The 
 place is covered with blood, the hoofs of the deer have 
 left deep prints in the ground, as it bounded in the ago- 
 nies produced by its wound ; but the blood that has 
 gushed from its side discloses the course which it has 
 taken. We soon reach the spot. There lies the buck, 
 its tongue out, its eye dim, its breath exhausted ; it is 
 dead. The hunter draws his knife, cuts the buck's throat 
 almost asunder, and prepares to skin it. For this pur- 
 
2j8 Life of Audubon. 
 
 pose he hangs it upon the branch of a tree. When the 
 skin is removed, he cuts off the hams, and abandoning 
 the rest of the carcass to the wolves and vultures, re- 
 loads his gun, flings the venison, enclosed by the skin, 
 upon his back, secures it with a strap, and walks off in 
 search of more game, well knowing that in the immedi- 
 ate neighborhood another at least is to be found. 
 
 " Had the weather been warmer, the hunter would 
 have sought for the buck along the shadowy side of the 
 hills. Had it been the spring season, he would have led 
 us through some thick canebrake, to the margin of some 
 remote lake, where you would have seen the deer 
 immersed to his head in the water, to save his body from 
 the tormenting mosquitoes. Had winter overspread the 
 earth with a covering of snow, he would have searched 
 the low, damp woods, where the mosses and lichens, on 
 which at that period the deer feeds, abound, the t;'ees be- 
 ing generally crusted with them for several feet from the 
 ground. At one time he might have marked the places 
 where the deer clears the velvet from his horns by rub- 
 bing them against the low stems of bushes, and where he 
 frequently scrapes the earth with his fore-hoofs; at 
 another he would have betaken himself to places where 
 persimmon and crab-apples abound, as beneath these trees 
 the deer frequently stops to munch their fruits. During 
 early spring our hunter would imitate the bleating of the 
 doe, and thus frequently obtain both her and the fawn ; 
 or, like some tribes of Indians, he would prepare a deer's 
 head, placed on a stick, and creeping with it amongst the 
 tall grass of the prairies, would decoy the deer within 
 reach of his rifle. But, kind reader, you have seen 
 enough of the * still hunter.' Let it suffice for me to add 
 that, by the mode pursued by him, thousands of deer are 
 annually killed, many individuals shooting these animals 
 merely for the skins, not caring for even the most valua- 
 
Deer-Hunting, 2^9 
 
 ble portions of the flesh, unless hunger or a near market 
 induces them to carry off the hams. 
 
 " The mode of destroying deer hy fire-light, or, as it is 
 named in some parts of the country, forest-light, never 
 fails to produce a very singular feehng in him who wit- 
 nesses it for the first time. There is something in it which 
 at times appears awfully grand. At other times a cer- 
 tain degree of fear creeps over the mind, and even affects 
 the physical powers of him who follows the hunter through 
 the thick undergrowth of our woods, having to leap his 
 horse over hundreds of huge fallen trunks, at one time 
 impeded by a straggling grape-vine crossing his path, at 
 another squeezed between two stubborn saplings, whilst 
 their twigs come smack in his face, as his companion has 
 forced his way through them. Again, he every now and 
 then runs the risk of breaking his neck by being suddenly 
 pitched headlong on the ground, as his horse sinks into a 
 hole covered over with moss. But I must proceed in a 
 more regular manner, and leave you, kind reader, to judge 
 whether such a mode of hunting would suit your taste or 
 not. 
 
 " The hunter has returned to his camp or his house, 
 has rested, and eaten his game. He has procured a 
 quantity of pine-knots filled with resinous matter, and has 
 an old frying-pan, that, for aught I know to the contrary, 
 may have been used by his great-grandmother, in which 
 the pine-knots are to be placed when lighted. The horses 
 stand saddled at the door. The hunter comes forth, his 
 rifle slung on his shoulder, and springs upon one of 
 them, while his son or a servant mounts the other, with 
 the frying-pan and the pine-knots. Thus accoutred, they 
 proceed towards the interior of the forest. When they 
 have arrived at the spot where the hunt is to begin, they 
 strike fire with a flint and steel, and kindle the resinous 
 wood. The person who carries the fire moves in the di- 
 
240 Life of Audubon, 
 
 rection judged to be the best. The blaze illuminates the 
 near objects, but the distant parts seem involved in deep- 
 est obscurity. 
 
 " The hunter who bears the gun keeps immediately in 
 front, and after a while discovers before him two feeble 
 lights, which are produced by the reflection of the pine 
 fire from the eyes of an animal of the deer or wolf kind. 
 The animal stands quite still. To one unacquainted with 
 this strange mode of hunting, the glare from its eyes might 
 bring to his imagination some lost hobgoblin that had 
 strayed from its usual haunts. The hunter, however, no- 
 wise intimidated, approaches the object, sometimes so 
 near as to discern its form, when, raising the rifle to his 
 shoulder, he fires and kills it on the spot. He then dis- 
 mounts, secures the skin and such portions of the flesh as 
 he may war*, in the manner already described*, *and con- 
 tinues his search through the greater part of the night, 
 sometimes to the dawn of day, shooting from five to ten 
 deer, should these animals be plentiful. This kind of 
 hunting proves fatal, not to the deer alone, but also some- 
 times to wolves, and now and then to a horse or a cow 
 which may have strayed far into the woods. 
 
 " Now, kind reader, prepare to mount a generous, full- 
 blood Virginia hunter ; see that your gun is in complete 
 order, for hark to the sound of the bugle and horn, and 
 the mingled clamor of a pack of harriers. Your friends 
 are waiting you under the shade of the wood, and we 
 must together go driving iho. light-footed deer. The dis- 
 tance over which one has to travel is seldom felt when 
 pleasure is anticipated as the result, so galloping we go 
 pell-mell through the woods to some well-known place, 
 where many a fine buck has drooped its antlers under 
 the ball of the hunter's rifle. The servants, who are 
 called the drivers, have already begun their search, their 
 voices are heard exciting the hounds, and unless we put 
 
Deer-Hunting, 241 
 
 spurs to our steeds, we may be too late at our stand, and 
 thus lose the first opportunity of shooting the fleeting 
 game as it passes by. Hark again ! The dogs are in 
 chase, the horn sounds louder and more clearly. Hurry, 
 hurry on ! or we shall be sadly behind. Here we are at 
 last ; dismount, fasten your horse to this tree, place your- 
 self by the side of that large yellow poplar, and mind you 
 do not shoot me. The deer is fast approaching ; I will to 
 my own stand, and he who shoots him dead wins the prize. 
 The deer is heard coming ; it has inadvertently cracked 
 a dead stick with its hoof, and the dogs are now so near 
 it that it will pass in a moment. There it comes ! How 
 beautifully it bounds over the ground ! What a splendid 
 head of horns ! How easy the attitudes, depending, as 
 ^ it seems to do, on its own swiftness for safety ! 5, All is in 
 vain, however ; a gun is fired, tlie animal plunges, and 
 doubles with incomparable speed. There he goes j he 
 passes another stand, from which a second shot, better 
 directed than the first, brings him to the ground. The 
 dogs, the servants, the sportsmen, are now rushing for- 
 ward to the spot. The hunter who has shot it is congrat- 
 ulated on his skill or good luck, and the chase begins 
 again in some other part of the woods. 
 
 " A few lines of explanation may be required to con- 
 vey a clear idea of this mode of hunting. Deer are fond 
 of following and retracing the paths which they have 
 formerly used, and continue to do so even after they have 
 been shot at more than once. Their tracks are discov- 
 ered by persons on horseback in the woods, or a deer is 
 observed crossing a road, a field, or a small stream. 
 When this has been noticed twice, the deer may be shot 
 from the places calkd stands by the sportsman, who is 
 stationed there and waits for it, aline of stands being gen- 
 erally formed so as to cross the path which the game will 
 follow. The person who ascertains the usual pass of 
 11 
 
242 
 
 Life of Audubon. 
 
 the game, or discovers the parts where the animal feeds 
 or lie$ down during the day, gives intimation to his 
 friends, who then prepare for the chase. The servants 
 start the deer with the hounds, and, by good management, 
 generally succeed in making it run the course that will 
 soonest bring it to its death. But should tlie deer be 
 cautious, and take another course, the hunters mounted on 
 swift horses, gallop through the woods to intercept it, 
 guided by the sound of the horns and the cry of the dogs, 
 and frequently succeed in shooting it. This sport is ex- 
 tremely agreeable, and proves successful on almost every 
 
 occasion. 
 
 i; 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Sixth Florida Episode : Sandy Island, 
 
 LEFT you abruptly, perhaps uncivilly, reader, at 
 the dawn of day on Sandy Island, which lies 
 just six miles from the extreme point of South 
 Florida. I did so because I was amazed at the appear- 
 ance of things around me, which, in fact, looked so 
 different then from what they seemed at night, that it took 
 some minutes* reflection to account for the change. 
 When we laid ourselves down on the sand to sleep, the 
 waters almost bathed our feet ; when we opened our eyes 
 in the morning, they were at an immense distance. Our 
 boat lay on her side, looking not unlike a whale reposing 
 on a mud bank ; the birds in myriads were probing their 
 pasture-ground. There great flocks of ibises fed apart 
 from equally large collections of * godwits,' and thousands 
 of herons gracefully paced along, ever and anon thrusting 
 their javelin bills into the body of some unfortunate fish 
 confined in a small pool of water. Of fish-crows I could 
 not estimate the number, but from the havoc they made 
 among the crabs, I conjecture that these animals must 
 have been scarce by the time of next ebb. Frigate 
 pelicans chased the jager, which himself had just robbed 
 a poor gull of its prize ; and all the gallinules ran with 
 spread wings from the mud-banks to the thickets of the 
 island, so timorous had they become when they perceived 
 us. Surrounded as we were by so many objects that al- 
 lured us, not one could we yet attain, so dangerous would 
 it have been to venture on the mud ; and our pilot hav- 
 
244 • -^^f^ of Auduhon, 
 
 ing assured us that nothing could be lost by waiting, 
 spoke of our eating, and on this hint told that he would 
 take us to a part of the island \Yhere * our breakfast 
 would be abundant, although uncooked.* Off we went, 
 some of the sailors carrying baskets, others large tin pans 
 and wooden vessels such as they use for eating their 
 meals in. Entering a thicket of about an acre in extent, 
 we found on every bush several nests of the ibis, each 
 containing three large and beautiful eggs, and all hands 
 fell to gathering. The birds gave way to us, and ere long 
 we had a heap of eggs, that promised delicious food. 
 Nor did we stand long in expectation ; for, kindling a 
 fire, we soon prepared, in one way or other, enough to sat- 
 isfy the cravings of our hungry maws. Breakfast ended, 
 the pilot, looking at the gorgeous sunrise, said, * Gentle- 
 men, prepare yourselves for fun j the tide is a-coming.' 
 Over these mud-flats a foot or two of water is quite suffi- 
 cient to drive all the birds ashore, even the tallest heron 
 or flamingo ; and the tide seems to flow at once over the 
 whole expanse. Each of us, provided with a gun, posted 
 himself behind a bush, and no sooner had the water 
 forced the winged creatures to approach the shore, than 
 the work of destruction commenced. When it at length 
 ceased, the collected mass of birds of different kinds 
 looked not unlike a small haycock. Wlio could not with 
 a little industry have helped himself to a few of their 
 skins ? Why, reader, surely no one is as fond of these 
 things as I am. Every one assisted in this, and even the 
 sailors themselves tried their hand at the work. Our pi- 
 lot, good man, told us he was no hand at such occupa- 
 tions, and would go after something else. So taking 
 * Long Tom * and his fishing-tackle, he marched off quietly 
 along the shores. About an hour afterwards we saw him 
 returning, when he looked quite exhausted ; and on our 
 inquiring the cause, said, * There is a dew-fish yonder. 
 
A Dangerous Fish, 245 
 
 and a few balacoudas, but I am not able to bring them, or 
 even to haul them here; please send the sailors after 
 them.' The fishes were accordingly brought, and as I had 
 never seen a 'dew-fish,' I examined it closely, and took 
 an outline of its form, which some days hence you may 
 perhaps see. It exceeded a hundred pounds in weight, 
 and afforded excellent eating. Tlie balacouda is also a 
 good fish, but at times a dangerous one, for, according to 
 the pilot, on more than one occasion 'some of these gen- 
 try ' had followed him, when waist-deep in the water in 
 pursuit of a more valuable prize, until in self-defence he 
 had to spear them, fearing that the ' gentlemen ' might at 
 one dart cut off his legs, or some other nice bit with which 
 he was unwilling to part. Having filled our cask from a 
 fine well, long since dug in the sand of Cape Sable, either 
 by Seminole Indians or pirates, no matter which, we left 
 Sandy Isle about full tide, and proceeded homewards, 
 giving a call here and there at different keys, with the 
 view of procuring rare birds, and also their nests and 
 eggs. We had twenty miles to go * as the birds fly,' but 
 the tortuosity of the channels rendered our course fully a 
 third longer. The sun was descending fast, when a black 
 cloud suddenly obscured the majestic orb. Our sails 
 swelled by a breeze that was scarcely felt by us, and the 
 pilot, requesting us to sit on the weather gunwale, told us 
 that we were 'going to get it.' One sail was hauled in 
 and secured, and the other was reefed, although the wind 
 had not increased. A low murmuring noise was heard, 
 and across the cloud that now rolled along in tumultuous 
 masses shot vivid flashes of lightning. Our experienced 
 guide steered directly across a flat towards the nearest 
 land. The sailors passed their quids from one cheek to 
 the other, and our pilot having covered himself with his 
 oil jacket, we followed his example. * Blow, sweet breeze, ' 
 cried he at the tiller, * and we'll reach land before the 
 
1^6 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 blast overtakes us ; for, gentlemen, it is a furious cloud 
 yon.' A furious cloud indeed was the one which now, like 
 an eagle on outstretched wings, approached so swiftly, 
 that one might have deemed it in haste to destroy us. 
 We were not more than a cable's length from the shore, 
 when with imperative voice the pilot calmly said to us, 
 
 * Sit quite still, gentlemen, for I should not like to lose 
 you overboard just now ; the boat can't upset, my word 
 for that, if you will but sit still ; here we have it ! ' Read- 
 er, persons who have never witnessed a hurricane, such 
 as not unfrequently desolates the sultry climates of the 
 south, can scarcely form an idea of their terrific grandeur. 
 One would think that, not content with laying waste all 
 on land, it must needs sweep the waters of the shallows 
 quite dry to quench its thirst. No respite for a moment 
 does it afford to the objects within the reach of its furious 
 current. Like the scythe of the destroying angel, it cuts 
 every thing by the roots, as it were, with the careless ease 
 of the experienced mower. Each of its revolving sweeps 
 collects a heap that might be likened to the full sheaf 
 which the husbandman flings by his side. On it goes, 
 with a wildness and fury that are indescribable ; and when 
 at last its frightful blasts have ceased, nature, weeping 
 and disconsolate, is left bereaved of her beautiful off- 
 spring. In instances, even a full century is required be- 
 fore, with all her powerful energies, she can repair her 
 loss. The planter has not only lost his mansion, his 
 crops, and his flocks, but he has to clear his lands anew, 
 covered and entangled as they are with the trunks and 
 branches of trees, that are ever}^where strewn. The bark 
 overtaken by the storm is cast on the lee-shore, and if 
 any are left to witness the fatal results they are the 
 
 * wreckers ' alone, who, with inward delight, gaze upon the 
 melancholy spectacle. Our light bark shivered like a leaf 
 the instant the blast reached her sides. We thought she 
 
Bird Seeking, 247 
 
 had gone over ; but the next instant she was on the shore, 
 and now, in contemplation of the sublime and awful 
 storm, I gazed around me. The waters drifted like snow ; 
 the tough mangroves hid their tops amid their roots, and 
 the loud roaring of the waves driven among them blend- 
 ed with the howl of the tempest. It was not rain that 
 fell ; the masses of water flew in a horizontal direction, 
 and where a part of my body was exposed, J felt as if a 
 smart blow had been given me on it. But enough : in 
 half an hour it was over. The pure blue sky once more 
 embellished the heavens, and although it was now quite 
 night, we considered our situation a good one. The crew 
 and some of the party spent the night on board ; the pi- 
 lot, myself, and one of my assistants took to the heart of 
 the mangroves, and having found high land, we made a 
 fire as well as we could, spread a tarpaulin, and fixing our 
 insect-bars over us, soon forgot in sleep the horrors that 
 had surrounded us. Next day the Marion proceeded on 
 her cruise, and in a few more days, having anchored in 
 another safe harbor, we visited other keys, of which I 
 will, with your leave, give you a short account. 
 
 " The deputy collector of Indian Isle gave me the use 
 r of his pilot for a few weeks, and I was the more gratified 
 by this, that besides knowing him to be a good man and 
 a perfect sailor, I was now convinced that he possessed a 
 great knowledge of the habits of birds, and could with- 
 out loss of time lead me to their haunts. We were a 
 hundred miles or so farther to the south. Gay May, like 
 a playful babe, gambolled on the bosom of his mother 
 nature, and every thing was replete with life and joy. 
 The pilot had spoken to me of some birds which I was 
 very desirous of obtaining. One morning, therefore, we 
 went in two boats to some distant isle, where they were said 
 to breed. Our difficulties in reaching that key might to 
 some seem more imaginary than real, were I faithfully to 
 
248 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 describe them. Suffice it for me to tell you that, after 
 hauling our boats and pushing them with our hands for 
 upwards of nine miles over the flats, we at last reached 
 the deep channel that usually surrounds each of the man- 
 grove isles. We were much exhausted by the labor and 
 sxcessive heat, but we were now floating on deep water, 
 and by resting under the shade of some mangroves, we 
 were soon refreshed by the breeze that gently blew from 
 the gulf 
 
 " The heron which I have named ' Ardea occidentalis * 
 was seen moving majestically in great numbers, the tide 
 rose and drove them away, and as they came towards us, 
 to alight and rest for a while on the tallest trees, we shot 
 as many as I wished. I also took under my charge sev- 
 eral of their young alive. At another time we visited the 
 * Mule Keys ; ' there the prospect was in many respects 
 dismal enough. As I followed their shores, I saw bales 
 of cotton floating in all the coves, while spars of every 
 description lay on the beach, and far off on the reefs I 
 could see the last remains of a lost ship, her dismasted 
 hulk. Several schooners were around her ; they were 
 'wreckers.' I turned me from the sight with a hea\y 
 heart. Indeed, as I slowly proceeded, I dreaded to meet * 
 the floating or cast-ashore bodies of some of the unfor- 
 tunate crew. Our visit to the * Mule Keys ' was in no way 
 profitable, for besides meeting with but a few birds, in two 
 or three instances I was, while swimming in the deep 
 channel of a mangrove isle, much nearer a large shark 
 than I wish ever to be again." 
 
^<^^?^^^2:^^B!fM5'^J^^ 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Seventh Florida Episode : The Wreckers, 
 
 ONG before I reached the lovely islets that 
 border the south-eastern shores of the Floridas, 
 y the accounts I had heard of * The Wreckers ' 
 had deeply prejudiced me against them. Often had I 
 been informed of the cruel and cowardly methods which 
 it was alleged they employed to allure vessels of all na- 
 tions to the dreaded reefs, that they might plunder their 
 cargoes, and rob their crews and passengers of their 
 effects. I therefore could have little desire to meet with 
 such men under any circumstances, much less to become 
 liable to receive their aid ; and with the name of ^ wrecker ' 
 there were associated in my mind ideas of piratical dep- 
 redation, barbarous usage, and even murder. One fair 
 afternoon, while I was standing on the polished deck 
 of the United States revenue cutter, the Marion, a sail 
 hove in sight, bearing in an opposite course, close-hauled 
 to the wind. The gentle sway of her masts, as she rocked 
 to and fro in the breeze, brought to my mind the wavings 
 of the reeds on the fertile banks of the Mississippi. By 
 and by the vessel, altering her course, approached us. 
 The Marion, like a sea-bird v/ith extended wings, swept 
 through the waters, gently inclining to either side, while 
 the unknown vessel leaped as it were from wave to wave, 
 like the dolphin in eager pursuit of his prey. In a short 
 time we were gliding side by side, and the commander 
 of the strange schooner saluted our captain, who promptly 
 returned the compliment. What a beautiful vessel, we 
 all thought, how trim, how clean rigged, and how well 
 manned. She swims like a duck, and now, with a broad 
 11* 
 
250 Life of Audubon, 
 
 sheer, off she makes for the reefs, a few miles under our 
 lee. There in that narrow passage, well known to her 
 commander, she rolls, tumbles, and dances like a giddy 
 thing, her copper sheathing now gleaming, and again dis- 
 appearing under the waves. But the passage is made, 
 and now, hauling on the wind, she resumes her former 
 course, and gradually recedes from the view. Reader, it 
 was a Florida wrecker. When at the Tortugas, I paid a 
 visit to several vessels of this kind, in company with my 
 friend Robert Day, Esq. We had observed the regularity 
 and quickness of the men then employed at their arduous 
 tasks, and as we approached the largest schooner, I ad- 
 mired her form, so well adapted to her occupation, her 
 great breadth of beam, her light draught, the correctness 
 of her water-line, the neatness of her painted sides, the 
 smoothness of her well-greased masts, and the beauty of 
 her rigging. We were welcomed on board with all the 
 frankness of our native tars. Silence and order prevailed 
 on her decks. The commander and the second officer 
 led us into a spacious cabin, well lighted, and furnished 
 with every convenience for fifteen or more passengers. 
 The former brought me his collection of marine shells, 
 and whenever I pointed to one that I had not seen before, 
 offered it with so much kindness, that I found it necessar}' 
 to be careful in expressing my admiration of any particu- 
 lar shell. He had also many eggs of rare birds, which 
 were all handed over to me, with an assurance that be- 
 fore the month should expire a new set could easily 
 be procured ; for, said he, * we have much idle time on 
 the reefs at this season.' Dinner was served, and we par- 
 took of their fare, which consisted of fish, fowl and other 
 materials. These rovers were both from down east, were 
 stout active men, cleanly and smart in their attire. In a 
 short time we were all extremely social and merry. They 
 thought my visit to the Tortugas in quest of birds was 
 
^he Wreckers. 251 
 
 rather a curious fancy, but notwithstanding, they expressed 
 their pleasure while looking at some of my drawings, and 
 offered their services in procuring specimens. Expedi- 
 tions far and near were proposed, and on settling that 
 one of them was to take place on the morrow, we parted 
 friends. Early next morning several of these kind men 
 accompanied me to a small key called Booby Island, 
 about ten miles distant from the lighthouse. Their boats 
 were well manned, and rowed with long and steady strokes, 
 such as whalers and men-of-war's men are wont to draw. 
 The captain sang, and at times, by way of frolic, ran a 
 race with our own beautiful bark. The Booby Isle was 
 soon reached, and our sport there was equal to any we 
 had elsewhere. They were capital shots, had excellent 
 guns, and knew more about boobies and noddies than 
 nine-tenths of the best naturalists in the world. 
 
 " But what will you say when I tell you that the 
 ' Florida wreckers ' are excellent at a deer-hunt, and that 
 at certain seasons, * when business is slack,' they are 
 wont to land on some extensive key, and in a few hours 
 procure a supply of delicious venison. Some days after 
 the same party took me on an expedition in quest of sea- 
 shells. There we were all in the water at times to the 
 waist, and now and then much deeper. Now they would 
 dip like ducks, and on emerging would hold up a beauti- 
 ful shell. This occupation they seemed to enjoy above all 
 others. The duties of the Marion having been per- 
 formed, intimation of our intended departure reached 
 tlie wreckers. An invitation was sent me to go and see 
 them on board their vessel, which I accepted. Their 
 object on this occasion was to present me with some 
 superb corals, shells, live turtles of the hawk-billed spe- 
 cies, and a great quantity of eggs. Not a picayune would 
 they receive in return, but putting some letters in my 
 hands, requested me to be so good as to put them in the 
 
2^2 Life of Audubon, 
 
 mail at Charleston, adding that they were for their wives 
 down east. So anxious dtd they appear to be to do all 
 they could for me, that they proposed to sail before the 
 Marion, and meet her under weigh, to give me some 
 birds that were rare on the coast, and of which they 
 knew the haunts. Circumstances connected with the ser- 
 vice prevented this, however, and with sincere regret, and 
 a good portion of friendship, I bade these excellent fel- 
 lows adieu. How different, thought I, is often the knowl- 
 edge of things acquired from personal observation, from 
 that obtained by report. I had never before seen Florida 
 wreckers, nor has it- since been my fortune to fall in with 
 any ; but my good friend Dr. Benjamin Strobel, having 
 furnished me with a graphic account of a few days he 
 spent with them, I shall present you with it in his own 
 words. 
 
 " ' On the 1 2th day of September, while lying in har- 
 bor at Indian Key, we were joined by five wrecking ves- 
 sels. Their licenses having expired, it was necessary to 
 go to Key West, to renew them. We deteniiined to ac- 
 company them the next morning, and here it will not be 
 amiss for me to say a few words respecting these far- 
 famed wreckers, their captains and crews. From all that 
 I had heard, I expected to see a parcel of dirty, pirate- 
 looking vessels, officered and manned by a set of black- 
 whiskered fellows, who carried murder in their very looks. 
 I was agreeably surprised on discovering that the vessels 
 were fine large sloops and schooners, regular clippers, 
 kept in first-rate order. The captains generally were 
 jovial, good-humored sons of Neptune, who manifested a 
 disposition to be polite and hospitable, and to afford 
 every facility to persons passing up and down the reefs. 
 The crews were hearty, well-dressed, and honest-looking 
 men. On the i8th, at the appointed hour, we all set sail 
 together, that is, the five wreckers and the schooner Jane. 
 
T!he Wreckers. 253 
 
 As our vessel was not noted for fast sailing, we accepted 
 an invitation to go on board of a wrecker. The fleet got 
 under weigh about eight o'clock in the morning, the wind 
 light but fair, the water smooth, and the day fine. I can 
 scarcely find words to express the pleasure and gratifica- 
 tion which I this day experienced. The sea was of a 
 beautiful, soft, pea-green color, smooth as a sheet of glass, 
 and as transparent, its surface agitated only by our ves- 
 sels as they parted its bosom, or by the pelican in pursuit 
 of his prey, which, rising for a considerable distance in the 
 air, would suddenly plunge down with distended mandi- 
 bles, and secure his food. The vessels of our little fleet, 
 with every sail set that could catch a breeze, and the 
 white foam curling round the prows glided silently along, 
 like islands of flitting shadows on an immovable sea of 
 light. Several fathoms below the surface of the water, 
 and under us, we saw great quantities of fish diving and 
 sporting amongst the sea-grass, sponges, sea-feathers, and 
 corals, with which the bottom was covered. On our 
 right hand the Florida Keys, as we made them in the dis- 
 tance, looked like specks upon the water, but as we 
 neared them, rose to view as if by enchantment, clad in 
 the richest liver}^ of spring, each variety of color and hue 
 rendered soft and delicate by a clear sky and brilliant sun 
 overhead. All was like a fairy scene ; my heart leaped 
 up in delighted admiration, and I could not but exclaim, 
 in the language of Scott, 
 
 Those seas behold, 
 
 Round thrice an hundred islands rolled. 
 
 The trade-winds played around us with balmy and re- 
 freshing sweetness ; and to give life and animation to the 
 scene, we had a contest for the mastery between all the 
 vessels of the fleet, while a deep interest was excited in 
 this or that vessel, as she shot ahead or fell astern. 
 
254 ^\f^ of Audubon. 
 
 About three o'clock of the afternoon we arrived off the 
 Bay of Honda. The wind being light, and no prospect 
 of reaching Key West that night, it was agreed we should 
 make a harbor here. We entered a beautiful basin, and 
 came to anchor about four o'clock. Boats were launch- 
 ed, and several hunting parties formed. We landed, and 
 were soon on the scent, some going in search of shells, 
 others of birds. An Indian who haa been picked up 
 somewhere along the coast by some wrecker, and who 
 was employed as a hunter, was sent on shore in search 
 of venison. Previous to his leaving the vessel a rifle was 
 loaded with a single ball, and put into his hands. After 
 an absence of several hours he returned with two deer, 
 which he had killed at a single shot. He watched until 
 they were both in range of his gun, side by side, when 
 he fired and brought them down. All hands having re- 
 turned, and the fruits of our excursion being collected, 
 we had wherewithal to make an abundant supper. Most 
 of the game was sent on board of the larger vessel, where 
 we proposed supping. Our vessels were all lying within 
 hail of each other, and as soon as the moon arose, boats 
 were seen passing from one to the other, and all were 
 busily and happily engaged in exchanging civilities. 
 One would never have supposed that these men were 
 professional rivals, so apparent was the good feeling that 
 prevailed amongst them. About nine o'clock we started 
 for supper. A number of persons had already collected, 
 and as soon as we arrived on board the vessel, a German 
 sailor, who played remarkably well on the violin, was 
 summoned to the quarter-deck, when all hands with a 
 good will cheerily danced to lively airs until supper was 
 ready. The table was laid in the cabin, and groaned un- 
 der its load of venison, wild ducks, pigeons, curlews and 
 fish. Toasting and singing succeeded the supper, and 
 among other curious matters introduced, the following 
 
^he Wrecker i Song. 255 
 
 song was sung by the German fiddler, who accompanied 
 his voice with his instrument. He was said to be the au- 
 thor of the song. I say nothing of the poetry, but mere* 
 ly give it as it came on my ear. It is certainly very 
 characteristic. 
 
 THE WRECKERS' SONG. 
 
 Come all ye good people one and all. 
 
 Come listen to my song ; 
 A few remarks I have to make, 
 
 Which won't be very long. 
 'Tis of our vessel, stout and goot, 
 As ever yet was built of vvoot ; 
 Along the reef where the breakers roar, 
 De wreckers on de Florida shore. 
 
 Key Tavernier's our rendezvous, 
 
 At anchor there we lie ; 
 And see the vessels in the Gulf 
 
 Carelessly passing by. 
 When night comes on we dance and sing. 
 Whilst the current some vessel is floating in ; 
 When daylight comes, a ship's on shore. 
 Among de rocks where de breakers roar. 
 
 When daylight dawns we're under weigh, 
 
 And every sail is set ; 
 And if the wind it should prove light. 
 
 Why then our sails we wet. 
 To gain her first each eager strives. 
 To save de cargo and de pepole's lives ; 
 Amongst de rocks, where de breakers roar, 
 De wreckers on the Florida shore. 
 
 When we get 'longside, we find she's bilged, 
 
 We know veil vat to do ; 
 Save de cargo dat we can, 
 
 De sails and rigging too. 
 Den down to Key West we soon vill go, 
 
2^6 Life of Audubon. 
 
 When quickly our salvage we shall know ; 
 When every ting it is fairly sold, 
 Our money down to us it is told. 
 
 Den one week's cruise we'll have on shore, 
 
 Before we do sail again ; 
 And drink success to the sailor lads 
 
 Dat are ploughing of de main. 
 And when you are Jjassing by this way, 
 On Florida Reef should you chance to stray, 
 Why, we will come to you on the shore, 
 Amongst de rocks where de breakers roar. 
 
 " ' Great emphasis was laid upon particular words by 
 the singer, who had a broad German accent. Between 
 the verses he played a symphony, remarking, "Gentle- 
 mens, I makes dat myself." The chorus was trolled by 
 twenty or thirty voices, which in the stillness of the night 
 produced no unpleasant effect' " 
 
CHAPTER XXL 
 
 Eighth Florida Episode: The Turtlers of Florida. 
 
 HE Tortugas are a group of islands lying about 
 eighty miles from Key West, and the last of 
 those that seem to defend the peninsula of the 
 Floridas. They consist of five or six extremely low un- 
 inhabitable banks, formed of shelly sand, and are resort- 
 ed to principally by that class of men called wreckers 
 and turtlers. Between these islands are deep channels, 
 which, although extremely intricate, are well known to 
 those adventurers, as well as to the commanders of the 
 revenue cutters whose duties call them to that danger- 
 ous coast. The great coral reef or wall lies about eight 
 miles from these inhospitable isles, in the direction of the 
 Gulf, and on it many an ignorant or careless navigator 
 has suffered shipwreck. The whole ground around them 
 is densely covered with corals, sea-fans, and other pro- 
 ductions of the deep, amid which crawl innumerable tes- 
 taceous animals ; while shoals of curious and beautiful 
 fishes fill the limpid waters above them. Turtles of dif- 
 ferent species resort to these banks, to deposit their eggs 
 in the burning sand, and clouds of sea-fowl arrive every 
 spring for the same purpose. These are followed by per- 
 sons called ^ eggers,' who, when their cargoes are com- 
 pleted, sail to distant markets to exchange their ill-gotten 
 ware for a portion of that gold on the acquisition of 
 which all men seem bent. 
 
 " The Marion having occasion to visit the Tortugas, I 
 gladly embraced the opportunity of seeing those cele- 
 
258 Life of Audubon, 
 
 brated islets. A few hotn-s before sunset the joyful cry 
 of * land * announced our approach to them, but as the 
 breeze was fresh, and the pilot was well acquainted with 
 all the windings of the channels, w^e held on, and dropped 
 anchor before twilight. If you have never seen the sun 
 setting in those latitudes, I would recommend you to 
 make a voyage for that purpose, for I much doubt if, in 
 any other portion of the world, the departure of the orb 
 of day is accompanied with such gorgeous appearances. 
 Look at the great red disc, increased to triple its ordina- 
 ry dimensions. Now it has partially sunk beneath the 
 distant line of waters, and with its still remaining half ir- 
 radiates the whole heavens with a flood of light, purpling 
 the far-off clouds that hover over the western horizon. 
 A blaze of refulgent glory streams through the portals of 
 the west, and the masses of vapor assume the semblance 
 of mountains of molten gold. But the sun has now dis- 
 appeared, and from the east slowly advances the gray 
 curtain which night draws over the world. The night- 
 hawk is flapping his noiseless wings in the gentle sea- 
 breeze ; the terns, safely landed, have settled on their 
 nests j the frigate pelicans are seen wending their way 
 to distant mangroves ; and the brown gannet, in search 
 of a resting-place, has perched on the yard of the vessel. 
 Slowly advancing landward, their heads alone above the 
 water, are observed the heavily-laden turtles, anxious to 
 deposit their eggs in the \vell-known sands. On the sur- 
 face of the gently rippling stream I dimly see their broad 
 forms as they toil along, while at intervals may be heard 
 their hurried breathings, indicative of suspicion and fear. 
 The moon with her silvery light now illumines the scene, 
 and the turtle having landed, slowly and laboriously 
 drags her heavy body over the sand, her * flappers ' be- 
 ing better adapted for motion in water than on the shore. 
 Up the slope however she works her way, and see how in- 
 
^ortugas Turtles. 259 
 
 dustriously she removes the sand beneath her, casting it 
 out on either side. Layer after layer she deposits her 
 eggs, arranging them in the most careful manner, and 
 with her hind paddles brings the sand over them. The 
 businej ^ is accomplished, the spot is covered over, and 
 with a joyful heart the turtle swiftly retires toward the 
 shore and launches into the deep. 
 
 " But the Tortugas are not the only breeding-places 
 of the turtle : these animals, on the contrary, frequent 
 many other keys as well as various parts of the coast of 
 the mainland. There are four different species, which 
 are known by the names of the green turtle, the hawk- 
 billed turtle, the logger-head turtle, and the trunk turtle. 
 The first is considered the best as an article of food, in 
 which capacity it is well known to most epicures. It ap- 
 proaches the shores, and enters the bays, inlets, and riv- 
 ers, early in the month of April, after having spent the 
 winters in the deejD waters. It deposits its eggs in con- 
 venient places, at two different times, in May, and once 
 again in June. The first deposit is the largest, and the 
 last the least, the total quantity being at an average about 
 two hundred and forty. The hawk-billed turtle, whose 
 shell is so valuable as an article of commerce, being used 
 for various purposes in the arts, is the next with respect 
 to the quality of its flesh. It resorts to the outer keys 
 only, where it deposits its eggs in two sets, first in July 
 and again in August, although it crawls the beaches much 
 earlier in the season, as if to look for a safe place. The 
 average number of its eggs is about three hundred. The 
 logger-head visits the Tortugas in April, and lays from 
 that period until late in June three sets of eggs, each set 
 averaging a hundred and seventy. The trunk turtle, 
 which is sometimes of an enormous size, and which has 
 a pouch like a pelican, reaches the shores latest The 
 shell and fish are so soft that one may push the finger 
 
26o Life of Audubon, 
 
 into them almost as into a lump of butter. This species 
 is therefore considered as the least valuable, and indeed 
 is seldom eaten, unless by the Indians, who, ever alert 
 when the turtle season commences, first carry off the eggs 
 which it lays in the season, and afterwards catch the tur- 
 tles themselves. The average number of eggs which it 
 lays at two sets may be three hundred and fifty. 
 
 " The logger-head and the trunk turtles are the least 
 cautious in choosing the places in which to deposit their 
 eggs, whereas the two other species select the wildest and 
 most secluded spots. The green turtle resorts either to 
 the shores of the Main, between Cape Sable and Cape 
 Florida, or enters Indian, Halifax, and other large rivers 
 or inlets, from which it makes its retreat as speedily as 
 possible, and betakes itself to the open sea. Great num- 
 bers, however, are killed by the turtlers and Indians, as 
 well as by various species of carnivorous animals, as cou- 
 gars, lynxes, bears, and wolves. The hawk -bill, which is 
 still more wary, and is always the most difficult to surprise, 
 keeps to the sea-islands. All the species employ nearly 
 the same method in depositing their eggs in the sand, and 
 as I have several times observed them in the act, I am 
 enabled to present you with a circumstantial account of 
 them. 
 
 " On first nearing the shores, and mostly on fine calm 
 moonlight nights, the turtle raises her head above the 
 water, being still distant thirty or forty yards from the 
 beach, looks around her, and attentively examines the 
 objects on the shore. Should she observe nothing likely 
 on the shore to disturb her intended operations, she emits 
 a loud hissing sound, by which such of her enemies as 
 are unaccustomed to it are startled, and so are apt to re- 
 move to another place, although unseen by her. Should 
 she hear any noise, or perceive indications of danger, she 
 instantly sinks and goes off to a considerable distance ; 
 
Depositing Eggs, 261 
 
 but should every thing be quiet, she advances slowly to- 
 wards the beach, crawls over it, her head raised to the 
 full stretch of her neck, and when she has reached a 
 place fitted for her purpose she gazes all round in silence. 
 Finding 'all well,' she proceeds to form a hole in the sand, 
 which she effects by removing it from under her body 
 with her hind flappers, scooping it out with so much dex- 
 terity that the sides seldom if ever fall in. The sand is 
 raised alternately with each flapper, as with a large ladle, 
 until it has accumulated behind her, when supporting her- 
 self with her head and fore part on the ground fronting 
 her body, she, with a spring from each flapper, sends the 
 sand around her, scattering it to the distance of several 
 feet. In this manner the hole is dug to the depth of 
 eighteen inches, or sometimes more than two feet. This 
 labor I have seen performed in the short period of nine 
 minutes. The eggs are then dropped one by one, and 
 disposed in regular layers to the number of a hundred 
 and fifty, or sometimes two hundred. The whole time 
 spent in this part of the operation may be about twenty 
 minutes. She now scrapes the loose sand back over the 
 eggs, and so levels them and smooths the surface, that 
 few persons on seeing the spot could imagine any thing 
 had been done to it. This accomplished to her mind, 
 she retreats to the water with all possible despatch, leav- 
 ing the hatching of the eggs to the heat of the sand. 
 When a turtle, a logger-head for example, is in the act of 
 dropping her egg, she will not move, although one should 
 go up to her, or even seat himself on her back, for it 
 seems that at this moment she finds it necessary to pro- 
 ceed at all events, and is unable to intermit her labor. 
 The moment it is finished, however, off she starts, nor 
 would it then be possible for one, unless he were as strong 
 as Hercules, to turn her over and secure her. To upset 
 a turtle on the shore one is obliged to fall on his knees, 
 
262 Life of Audubon, 
 
 and placing his shoulder behind her fore-arm, gradually 
 raise her up by pushing with great force, and then with a 
 jerk throw her over. Sometimes it requires the united 
 strength of several men to accomplish this, and if the tur- 
 tle should be of very great size, as often happens on that 
 coast,, even handsj^ikes are employed. Some turtlers are 
 so daring as to swim up to them while lying asleep on 
 the surface of the water, and turn them over in their own 
 element, when, however, a boat must be at hand to ena- 
 ble them to secure their prize. Few turtles can bite be- 
 yond the reach of their fore-legs, and few, when they are 
 once turned over, can, without assistance, regain their 
 natural position. But notwithstanding this, their flappers 
 are generally secured by ropes, so as to render their es- 
 cape impossible. Persons who search for turtle-eggs are 
 provided with a light stiff cane or gun-rod, with which 
 they go along the shores, probing the sand near the 
 tracks of the animal, which, however, cannot always be 
 seen on account of the winds and heavy rains that often 
 obliterate them. The nests are discovered not only by 
 men but also by beasts of prey, and the eggs are collect- 
 ed or destroyed on the spot in great numbers. 
 
 " On certain parts of the shore hundreds of turtles 
 are known to deposit their eggs within the space of a 
 mile. They form a new hole each time they lay, and ihe 
 second is generally dug near the first, as if the animal 
 were quite unconscious of what had befallen it. It will 
 readily be understood that the numerous eggs seen in a 
 turtle on cutting it up could not be all laid the same sea- 
 son. The whole number deposited by an individual in 
 one summer may amount to four hundred ; whereas if the 
 animal be caught on or near her nest, as I have witness- 
 ed, the remaining eggs, all small, without shells, and as 
 it were threaded like so many beads, exceed three thou- 
 sand. In an instance where I found that number, the 
 turtle weighed nearly four hundred pounds. 
 
Hahits of the turtle, 263 
 
 " The young, soon after being hatched, and when 
 yet scarcely larger than a dollar, scratch their way through 
 their sandy covering, and immediately betake themselves 
 to the water. The food of the green turtle consists chief- 
 ly of marine plants, more especially the grass-wrack 
 {Zostcra marina), which they cut near the roots, to pro- 
 cure the most tender and succulent parts. Their feeding- 
 grounds, as I have elsewhere said, are easily discovered 
 by floating masses of these plants on the flats or along 
 the shores to which they resort. The haw^k-billed species 
 feeds on seaweeds, crabs, and various kinds of shell-fish 
 and fishes ; the logger-head mostly on the fish of conch- 
 shells, of large size, which they are enabled, by means of 
 their powerful beak, to crush to pieces with apparently as 
 much ease as a man cracks a walnut. One which was 
 brought on board the Marion, and placed near the fluke of 
 one of her anchors, made a deep indentation in that ham- 
 mered piece of iron that quite surprised me. The trunk- 
 turtle feeds on mollusca, fish, Crustacea, sea-urchins, and 
 various marine plants. All the species move through the 
 water with surprising speed ; but the green and hawk- 
 billed in particular remind you by their celerity, and the 
 ease of their motions, of the progress of a bird in the air. 
 It is therefore no easy matter to strike one with a spear, 
 and yet this is often done by an accomplished turtler. 
 While at Key West and other islands on the coast, where 
 I made the observations here presented to you, I chanced 
 to have need to purchase some turtles to feed my friends 
 on board the Lady of the Green Mantle — not my friends, 
 her gallant officers, or the brave tars who formed her 
 crew, for all of them had already b^en satiated with tur- 
 tle soup ; but my friends the herons, of which I had a 
 goodly number in coops, intending to carry them to John 
 Bachman of Charleston, and other persons for whom I 
 felt a sincere regard. So I went to a ' crawl,' accom- 
 
264 Life of Audubon. 
 
 panied by Dr. Benjamin Strobel, to inquire about prices, 
 when to my surprise I found the smaller the turtles, 
 * above ten pounds' weight,' the dearer they were, and 
 that I could have purchased one of the logger-head kind, 
 that weighed more than seven hundred pounds, for little 
 more money than another of only thirty pounds. 
 
 " While I gazed on the turtle I thought of the soups the 
 contents of its shell would have furnished for a lord- 
 mayor's dinner, of the numerous eggs which its swollen 
 body contained, and of the curious carriage which might 
 be made of its shell — a car in which Venus herself might 
 sail over the Caribbean Sea, provided her tender doves 
 lent their aid in drawing the divinity, and provided no 
 shark or hurricane came to upset it. The turtlcr assured 
 me that, although the great monster was in fact better 
 meat than any other of a less size, there was no dispos- 
 ing of it, unless indeed it had been in his power to have 
 sent it. to some very distant market. I would willingly 
 have purchased it, but I knew that if killed the flesh 
 could not keep much longer than a day, and on that ac- 
 count I bought eight or ten small ones, w^hich * my friends' 
 really relished exceedingly, and which served to support 
 them for a long time. Turtles such as I have spoken of 
 arc caught in various ways on the coasts of the Floridas, or 
 in estuaries or rivers. Some turtlers are in the habit of 
 setting great nets across the entrance of streams, so as to 
 answer the purpose either at the flow or at the ebb of the 
 waters. These nets are formed of very large meshes, into 
 which the turtles partially get entangled. Others har- 
 poon them in the usual manner ; but in my estimation, no 
 method is equal to that employed by Mr. Egan, the pilot, 
 of Indian Isle. 
 
 " That extraordinary turtlcr had an iron instrument 
 which he called a *pcg,' and which at each end had a 
 point, not unlike what nailmakcrs call a brad^ it being 
 
"Turtle Catching, ^65 
 
 four-cornered, but flattish, and of a shape somewhat re- 
 sembling the beak of an ivory-billed woodpecker, together 
 with a neck and shoulder. Between the two shoulders of 
 this instrument a fine tough line, fifty or more fathoms in 
 length, w^as fastened by one end, being passed through a 
 hole in the centre of the peg, and the line itself was care- 
 fully coiled up and placed in a convenient part of the 
 canoe. One extremity of this peg enters a sheath of iron 
 that loosely attaches it to a long wooden spear, until a 
 turde has been pierced through the shell by the other ex- 
 tremity. He of the canoe paddles away as silently as 
 possible whenever he espies a turtle basking on the wa- 
 ter, until he gets within a distance of ten or twelve yards, 
 when he throws the spear so as to hit the animal about 
 the place which an entomologist would choose, were it a 
 large insect, for pinning to a piece of cork. As soon as 
 the turtle is struck, the wooden handle separates from the 
 peg, in consequence of the looseness of its attachment. 
 The smart of the wound urges on the animal as if dis- 
 tracted, and it appears that the longer the peg remains in 
 its shell, the more firmly fastened it is, so great a pressure 
 is exercised upon it by the shell of the turtle, wiiich being 
 suffered to run like a whale, soon becomes fatigued, and 
 is secured by hauling in the line with great care. In this 
 manner, as the pilot informed me, eight hundred green 
 turtles :^'ere caught by one man in twelve months. 
 
 " Each turtle has its * crawl,' which is a square wood- 
 en building or pen, formed of logs, which are so fiir sepa- 
 rated as to allow the tide to pass freely through, and 
 stand erect in the mud. The turtles are placed in this 
 enclosure, fed and kept there till sold. There is, however, 
 a circumstance relating to their habits which I cannot 
 omit, although I have it not from my own ocular evidence, 
 but from report. AVhen I was in Florida several of the 
 turtlcrs assured me, that any turtle taken from the depos- 
 12 
 
266 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 iting ground, and carried on the deck of a vessel several 
 hundred miles, would, if then let loose, certainly be met 
 with at the same spot, cither immediately after, or in the 
 following breeding season. Should this prove true, and 
 it certainly may, how much will be enhanced the belief 
 of the student in the uniformity and solidity of nature's 
 arrangements, when he finds that the turtle, like a migra- 
 tory bird, returns to the same locality, with perhaps a de- 
 light similar to that experienced by the traveller who, 
 nfter visiting different countries, once more returns to the 
 bosom of his cherished iiimily." 
 

 ^ 
 
 CHAFTER XXII. 
 
 Ninth Florida Episode: Death of a Pirate. 
 
 N the calm of a fine moonlight night, as I was 
 admiring the beauty of the clear heavens, and 
 the broad glare of light that glan?cd from the 
 trembling surface of the waters around, the oflicer on 
 watch came up and entered into conversation with me. 
 He had been a turtler in other years, and a great hunter 
 to boot, and although of humble birth and pretensions, 
 energy and talent, aided by education, had raised him to 
 a higher station. Such a man could not fail to be an 
 agreeable companion, and we talked on various subjects, 
 principally, you may be sure, birds and other natural pro- 
 ductions. He told me he once had a disagreeable ad- 
 venture W'hen looking for game, in a certain cove on the 
 shores of the Gulf of Mexico ; and on my expressing 
 a desire to hear it, he willingly related to me the follow- 
 ing particulars, which I give you, not perhaps precisely in 
 his own words, but as nearly as I can remember. 
 
 " Towards evening, one quiet summer day, I chanced 
 to be jiaddling along a sandy shore, which T thought well 
 fitted for my repose, being covered with tall grass, and as 
 the sun was not many degrees above the horizon, I felt 
 anxious to pitch my mosquito bar or net, and spend the 
 night in this wilderness. The bellowing notes of tlious- 
 ands of bull-frogs in a neighboring swamp nu'ght lull me 
 to rest, and I looked upon the flocks of black-birds that 
 were assembling as sure companions in this secluded re- 
 treat. 
 
268 Life of Audubon, 
 
 ** I proceeded up a little stream to insure the safety of 
 my canoe from any sudden storm, when, as I gladly ad- 
 vanced, a beautiful yawl came unexpectedly in view. 
 Surprised at such a sight in a part of the country then 
 scarcely known, I felt a sudden check in the circulation 
 of my blood. My paddle dropped from my hands, and 
 fearfully indeed as I picked it up, did I look towards the 
 unknown boat. On reaching it, I saw its sides marked 
 with stains of blood, and looking with anxiety over the 
 gunwale, I perceived to my horror two human bodies cov- 
 ered with gore. Pirates or hostile Indians I was per- 
 suaded had perpetrated the foul deed, and my alarm 
 naturally increased ; my heart fluttered, stepped and 
 heaved with unusual tremors, and I looked towards the 
 setting sun in consternation and despair. How long my 
 reveries lasted, I cannot tell ; I can only recollect that I 
 was roused from them by the distant groans of one ap- 
 parently in mortal agony. I felt as if refreshed by the 
 cold perspiration that oozed from every pore, and I re- 
 flected that though alone, I was well armed, and might 
 hope for the protection of the Almight}\ 
 
 " Humanity whispered to me that, if not surprised 
 and disabled, I might render assistance to some sufferer, 
 or even be the means of saving a useful life. Buoyed up 
 by this thought, I urged my canoe on shore, and seizing 
 it by the bow, pulled it at one spring high among the 
 grass. 
 
 " The groans of the unfortunate person fell heavy on 
 my ear, as I cocked and reprimed my gun, and I felt de- 
 termined to shoot the first that should rise from the irrass. 
 As I cautiously proceeded, a hand was raised over the 
 weeds, and waved in the air in the most supplicating 
 manner. I levelled my gun about a foot below it ; Vvhen 
 the next moment, the head and breast of a man cov- 
 ered with blood were convulsively raised, and a faint 
 
Death of a Pirate. 269 
 
 hoarse voice asked me for mercy and help ! a death-like 
 silence followed his fall to the ground. I sur\^eyed every 
 object around with eyes intent, and ears impressible by 
 the slightest sound, for my situation that moment 1 
 thought as critical as any I had ever been in. The 
 croakings of the frogs, and the last blackbirds alighting 
 on their roosts, were the only sounds or fights ; and I 
 now proceeded towards the object of my mingled alarm 
 and commiseration. 
 
 " Alas ! the poor being who lay prostrate at my feet, 
 was so weakened by loss of blood, that I had nothing to 
 fear from him. My first impulse was to run back to the 
 water, and having done so, I returned with my cap filled to 
 the brim. I felt at his heart, washed his face and breast, 
 and rubbed his temples with the contents of a phial, 
 which I kept about me as an antidote for the bites of 
 snakes. His features, seamed by the ravages of time, 
 looked frightful and disgusting. But he had been a pow- 
 erful man, as the breadth of his breast plainly showed. 
 He groaned in the most appalling manner, as his breath 
 struggled through the mass of blood that seemed to fill 
 his throat. His dress plainly disclosed his occupation — 
 a large pistol he had thrust into his bosom, a naked cut- 
 lass lay near him on the ground, and a silk handkerchief 
 was bound over his projecting brows, and over a pair of 
 loose trousers he wore a fisherman's boots. He was, in 
 short, a Pirate ! 
 
 " My exertions were not in vain, for, as I continued ^' 
 bathe his temples, he revived, his pulse resumed som 
 strength, and I began to hope that he might perhaps sui 
 vive the deep wounds which he had received. Darkness, 
 deep darkness, now enveloped us. I spoke of making a fire. 
 *0h! for mercy's sake,' he exclaimed, * don't.' Knowing, 
 however, that under existing circumstances it was expe- 
 dient for me to do so, I left him, went to his boat, and 
 
270 Life of Audubon. 
 
 brought the rudder, the benches and the oars, which with 
 my hatchet I soon splintered. I then struck a light, and 
 presently stood in the glare of a blazing fire. The Pirate 
 seemed struggling between terror and gratitude for my 
 assistance ; he desired me several times in half English 
 and Spanish to put out the flames, but after I had given 
 him a draught of strong spirits, he at length became 
 more composed. I tried to staunch the blood that flowed 
 from the deep gashes in his shoulders and his side. I 
 expressed my regret that I had no food about me, but 
 when I spoke of eating, he sullenly waved his head. 
 
 " My situation was one of the most extraordinary that 
 I have ever been placed in. I naturally turned my talk to- 
 wards religious subjects; but, alas! the dying man hardly 
 believed in the existence of a God. * Friend,' said he, * for 
 friend you seem to be, I never studied the ways of Him 
 of whom you talk. I am an outlaw, perhaps you will say 
 a wretch — I have been for many years a Pirate. The in- 
 structions of my parents were of no avail to me, for I 
 have always believed that I was born to be a most cruel 
 man. I now lie here, about to die in the weeds, because 
 I long ago refused to listen to their many admonitions. 
 Do not shudder, when I tell you these now useless hands 
 murdered the mother whom they had embraced. I feel that 
 I have deserved the pangs of the wretched death that hov- 
 ers over me ; and I am thankful that one of my kind will 
 alone witness my last gaspings.' A fond but feeble hope 
 that I might save his life, and perhaps assist in procuring 
 his pardon, — 4t is all in vain, friend — I have no objection 
 to die — I am glad that the villains who wounded me were 
 not my conquerors — I want no pardon from any one — 
 give me some water, a^d let me die alone.' 
 
 " With the hope tuat I might learn from his conversa- 
 tion something that might lead to the capture of his 
 guilty associates, I returned from the creek with another 
 
Death of a Pirate. 271 
 
 cap full of water, nearly the, whole of which I managed 
 to introduce into his parched mouth, and begged him, for 
 the sake of his future peace, to disclose his history to me. 
 * It is impossible,' said he, * there will not be time, the 
 beatings of my heart tell me so ; long before day, these 
 sinewy limbs will be motionless ; nay, there will hardly be 
 a drop of blood in my body, and that blood will only 
 serve to make the grass grow. My wounds are mortal, 
 and^ must and will die without what you call confession.' 
 The moon rose in the east. The majesty of her placid 
 beauty impressed me with reverence. I pointed towards 
 her, and asked the Pirate if he could not recognize God's 
 features there. ' Friend, I see what you are driving at,' 
 was his answer, ' you, like the rest of our enemies, feel 
 the desire of murdering us all — well— ^be it so — to die is 
 after all nothing more than a jest ; and were it not for the 
 pain, no one, in my opinion, need care a jot about it. 
 But as you really have befriended me, I will tell you all 
 that is proper.* 
 
 *' Hoping his mind might take a useful turn, I again 
 bathed his temples and washed his lips with spirits. His 
 sunk eyes seemed to dart fire at mine, a heavy and deep 
 sigh swelled his chest and struggled through his blood- 
 choked throat, and he asked me to raise him a little. I 
 did so, when he addressed me somewhat as follows, for, 
 as I have told you, his speech was a mixture of Spanish, 
 French and English, forming a jargon the like of which 
 I had never heard before, and which I am utterly unable 
 to imitate. However, I shall give you the substance of 
 his declaration. 
 
 " * First tell me how many bodies you found in the 
 boat, and what sort of dresses they had on.' I mention- 
 ed their number and described their apparel. ^That's 
 right,' said he, ' they are the bodies of the scoundrels who 
 followed me in that infernal Yankee Barge. Bold rascals 
 
2^2 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 they were, for when they foiyid the water too shallow for 
 their craft, they took to it and waded after me. All my 
 companions had been shot, and to lighten my own boat 
 I flung them overboard; but as I lost time in this, 
 Jie two ruffians caught hold of my gunwale, and struck 
 on my head and body in such a manner, that after I had 
 disabled and killed them both in the boat, I was scarcely 
 able to move. The other villains carried off our schoon- 
 er and one of our boats, and perhaps, ere now, have hung 
 all my companions whom they did not kill at the time. 
 I have commanded my beautiful vessel many years, cap- 
 tured many ships, and sent many rascals to the devil. I 
 always hated the Yankees, and only regret that I have 
 not killed more of them. I sailed from Mantanzas. I 
 have often been in concert with others. I have money 
 without counting, but it is buried where it will never be 
 found, and it would be useless to tell you of it.' His 
 throat filled with blood, his voice failed, the cold hand of 
 death was laid on his brow ; feebly and horribly he mut- 
 tered, * I am dying, man, farewell.' 
 
 " Alas ! it is painful to see death in any shape ; in 
 this it was horrible, for there was no hope. The rattling 
 of his throat announced the moment of dissolution, and 
 already did the body fall on my arms with a weight that 
 was insupportable. I laid him on the ground. A mass 
 of dark blood poured from his mouth ; then came a 
 frightful groan, the last breathing of that foul spirit ; and 
 what now lay at my feet in the wild desert was a mangled 
 mass of clay. 
 
 " The remainder of the night was passed in no envi- 
 able mood ; but my feelings cannot be described. At 
 dawn I dug a hole with the paddle of my canoe, rolled 
 the body into it and covered it. On reaching the boat, I 
 found several buzzards feeding on the bodies, which I in 
 vain attempted to drag to the shore. I therefore covered 
 
Death of a Pirate, 273 
 
 them with mud and weeds, and launching my canoe, pad- 
 dled from the cove, with a secret joy for my escape, 
 overshaded with the gloom of mingled dread and 
 horror. ' 
 
 ^^ 
 
^^^;!%C^^<i 
 
 ^<^<^Q<B^^^Q^^m^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 In America : Episode in K'eiu Brunswick, 
 
 N the beginning of August, Audubon, accompa- 
 nied by his wife and two sons, went on a jour- 
 ney to the State of Maine, to examine the birds 
 in the most unfrequented parts ; and the following epi- 
 sodes contain the naturalist's own summary of that visit. 
 They travelled in a private conveyance through Maine, 
 going towards the British provinces, and the country was 
 explored at leisure as they travelled. 
 
 Journey in New Brunswick. 
 
 '•• The morning after that we had spent with Sir Arch- 
 ibald Campbell and his delightful family, saw us proceed- 
 ing along the shores of St. John's River in the British 
 province of New Brunswick. As we passed the govern- 
 ment house our hearts bade its generous inmates adieu \ 
 and as we left Frederickton behind, the recollection of 
 the many acts of kindness which we had received from its 
 i.ihabitants came powerfully on our minds. Slowly ad- 
 vancing over the surface of the translucent stream, we 
 still fancied our ears saluted by the melodies of the La- 
 rivalled band of the 43d Regiment. In short, with the 
 remembrance of the kindness experienced, the feeling of 
 expectations gratified, the hope of adding to our knowl- 
 edge, and the possession of health and vigor, we were 
 luxuriating in happiness. The Favorite, the bark in which 
 we were, contained not only my family, but nearly a score 
 and a half of individuals of all descriptions ; so that the 
 
- 'The St, John s River, 275 
 
 crowded state of her cabin soon began to prove rather 
 disagreeable. The boat itself was a mere scoza, comman- 
 ded by a person of rather uncouth aspect and rude man- 
 ners. Two sorry nags he had fastened to the end of a 
 long tow-line, on the nearer of \vhich rode a negro youth 
 less than half rlad, with a long switch in one hand and 
 the joined bridles in the other, striving with all his might 
 to urge them on at the rate of something more than two 
 miles an hour. How fortunate it is for one to possess a 
 little knowledge of a true traveller ! Following the ad- 
 vice of a good, and somewhat aged one, we had provided 
 ourselves with a large basket, which was not altogether 
 empty when we reached the end of our agreeable excur- 
 sion. Here and there the shores of the river were beau- 
 tiful ; the space between it and the undulating hills that 
 bounded the prospect being highly cultivated, while now 
 and then its abrupt and rocky banks assumed a most 
 picturesque appearance. Although it was late in Sep- 
 tember, the mowers were still engaged in cutting the grass, 
 and the gardens of the farmers showed patches of green 
 peas. The apples were yet green, and the vegetation in 
 general reminded us that we were in a northern latitude. 
 Gradually and slowly we proceeded, until in the afternoon 
 we landed to exchange our jaded horses. We saw a 
 house on an eminence, with groups of people assembled 
 around it, but no dinner could be obtained, because, as 
 the landlord told us, an election was going on. So we 
 had recourse to the basket, and on the green sward we 
 refreshed ourselves with its contents. This done, w^e re- 
 turned to the scow, and resumed our stations. As is 
 usual in such cases, in every part of the world that I have 
 visited, our second set of horses was worse than the first. 
 However, on we went ; but to tell you how often the tow- 
 line gave way would not be more amusing to you than it 
 was annoying to us. Once our commander was in con- 
 
276 Life of Audubon, 
 
 sequence plunged into the stream, but after some exertion 
 he succeeded in gaining his gallant bark, when he con- 
 soled himself by giving utterance to a volley of blasphe 
 mies, which it would ill become me to repeat, as it would 
 be disagreeable to you to hear. We slept somewhere 
 that night j it does not suit my views to tell you where. 
 Before day returned to smile on the Favorite, we pro- 
 ceeded. Soon we came to some rapids, when every one, 
 glad to assist her, leaped on shore, and tugged^ /i3J cordelle. 
 Some miles further we passed a curious cataract, formed 
 bv the waters of the Pokioke. 
 
 " There Sambo led his steeds up the sides of a high 
 bank, when, lo ! the whole party came tumbling down 
 like so many hogsheads of tobacco rolled from a store- 
 house to the banks of the Ohio. He at the steering oar, 
 * Hoped the black rascal had broken his neck,' and con- 
 gratulated himself in the same breath for the safety of his 
 horses, which presently got on their feet. Sambo, how- 
 ever, alert as an Indian chief, leaped on the naked back 
 of one, and, showing his teeth, laughed at his master's 
 curses. Shortly after this, we found our boat very snug- 
 ly secured on the top of a rock, midway in the stream, 
 just opposite the mouth of Eel River. Next day at noon 
 — none injured, but all chop-fallen — we were landed at 
 Woodstock Village, yet in its infancy. After dining 
 there, we procured a cart and an excellent driver, and 
 proceeded along an execrable road towards Houlton, in 
 Maine, glad enough, after all our mishaps, at finding our- 
 selves in our own country. But before I bid farewell to 
 the beautiful river of St. John, I must tell you that its 
 navigation seldom exceeds eight months each year, the 
 passage during the rest being performed on the ice, of 
 which we were told that last season there was an unusual 
 quantity ; so much indeed as to accumulate, by being 
 jammed at particular spots, to the height of nearly fifty 
 
From Bangor to Houlton, 277 
 
 feet above the ordinary level of the river, and that when 
 it broke loose in the spring the crash was awful. All the 
 low grounds along the river were suddenly flooded, and 
 even the elevated plain on which Frederickton stands 
 was covered to the depth of four feet. Fortunately, how^- 
 ever, as on the greater streams of the Western and South- 
 ern districts, such an occurrence seldom takes place. 
 
 " Major Clarke, commander of the United States gar- 
 rison, received us with remarkable kindness. The next 
 day was spent ir a long, though fruitless, ornithological 
 excursion ; for although we were accompanied by officers 
 and men from the garrison, not a bird did any of our 
 party procure that was of any use to us. We remained a 
 few days, however ; after which, hiring a cart, two horses, 
 and a driver, we proceeded in the direction of Bangor. 
 Houlton is a neat village, consisting of some fifty houses. 
 The fort is well situated, and commands a fine view- of 
 Mars Hill, which is about thirteen miles distant. A cus- 
 tom-house* has been erected here, the place being on the 
 boundary line of the United States and the British prov- 
 inces. The road, which was cut by the soldiers of this 
 garrison, from Bangor to Houlton, through the forests, is 
 at this moment a fine turnpike of great breadth, almost 
 straight in its vv^hole length, and perhaps the best now in 
 the Union. It was incomplete, however, for some miles, 
 so th?.t our travelling over that portion was slow and dis- 
 agreeable. The rain, which fell in torrents, reduced the 
 new^ly-raised earth to a complete bed of mud ; and at one 
 time our horses became so completely mired that, had 
 we not been extricated by two oxen, we must have spent 
 the night near the spot. Jogging along at a ver}- slow 
 pace, we were overtaken by a gay waggoner, who had ex- 
 cellent horses, two of which a little * siller ' induced him 
 to join to ours, and we were taken to a tavern at the 
 'cross roads,' where we spent the night in comfort. 
 
278 Life of Audubon, 
 
 While supper was preparing, I made inquiry respecting 
 birds, quadrujDeds, and fishes, and was pleased to hear 
 that all of these animals abounded in the neighborhood. 
 Deer, bears, trouts, and grouse, were quite plentiful, as 
 was the great gray owl. When we resumed our journey 
 next morning Nature displayed all her loveliness, and 
 autumn, with her mellow tints, her glowing fruits, and 
 her rich fields of corn, smiled in placid beauty. Many 
 of the fields had not yet been reaped ; the fruits of the 
 forests and orchards hung clustering around us ; and as 
 we came in view of the Penobscot River, our hearts 
 thrilled with joy. Its broad transparent waters here 
 spread out their unaiffled surface, there danced along the 
 rapids, while canoes filled with Indians swiftly glided in 
 every direction, raising before them the timorous water- 
 fowl, that had already flocked in from the north. Moun- 
 tains which you well know are indispensable in a beauti- 
 ful landscape, reared their majestic crests in tlie distance. 
 The Canada jay leaped gayly from branch to twig ; the 
 kingfisher, as if vexed at being suddenly surprised, rat- 
 tled loudly as it swiftly flew off; and the fish-hawk and 
 eagle spread their broad wings over the waters. All 
 around was beautiful, and we gazed on the scene with de- 
 light as, seated on a verdant bank, we refreshed our 
 frames from our replenished stores. A few rare birds 
 were procured here, and the rest of the road being level 
 and fiiTH, we trotted on at a good pace for several hours, 
 the Penobscot keeping company with us. Now we came 
 to a deep creek, of which the bridge was undergoing re- 
 pairs, and the people saw our vehicle approach with much 
 surprise. They, however, assisted us with pleasure, by 
 placing a few logs across, along which our horses, one 
 after the other, were carefully led, and the cart aftenvards 
 carried. These good fellows were so averse to our rec- 
 ompensing them for their labor that, after some alterca- 
 
Looking for Lumber Lands. 279 
 
 tion, we were obliged absolutely to force what we deemed 
 a suitable reward upon them. Next day we continued 
 our journey along the Penobscot, the country changing 
 its aspect at every mile j and when we first descried Old 
 Town, that village of saw-mills looked like an island cov- 
 ered with manufactories. The people are noted for their 
 industry and perseverance ; any one possessing a mill, and 
 attending to his saws and the floating of the timber into 
 his dams, is sure to obtain a competency in a few years. 
 
 " Speculations in land covered with pine, lying to the 
 north of this place, are carried on to a great extent, and 
 to discover a good tract of such ground many n miller of 
 Old Town undertakes long journeys. Reader, with your 
 leave, I will here introduce one of them. 
 
 " Gook luck brought us into acquaintance with Mr. 
 Gillies, whom we happened to meet in the course of our 
 travels, as he was returning from an exploring tour. 
 About the first of August he fonned a party of sixteen 
 persons, each carrying a knapsack and an axe. Their 
 provisions consisted of two hundred and fifty pounds of 
 pilot bread, one hundred and fifty- pounds of salted pork, 
 four pounds of tea, tvvo large loaves of sugar, and some 
 salt. They embarked in light canoes, twelve miles north 
 of Bangor, and followed the Penobscot as far as Wassa- 
 taquoik River, a branch leading to the north-west, until 
 they reached the Sebois Lakes, the principal of which lie 
 in a line, with short portages between them. Still pro- 
 ceeding north-west, they navigated these lakes, and then 
 turning west, carried iheir canoes to the great lake 
 ' Baamchenunsgamook ;' thence north to * Wallaghasque- 
 gamook ' Lake ; then along a small stream to the upper 
 * Umsaskis ' Pond, when they, reached the Alleguash 
 River, which leads into the St. John's, in about latitude 
 47° 3'. Many portions of that country had not been vis- 
 ited before even by the Indians, who assured Mr. Gillies 
 
28o Life of Auduhon, 
 
 of this fact. They continued their travels down the St, 
 John's to the grand falls, where they met with a portage 
 of half a mile, and, having reached Medux-mekcag 
 Creek, a little above Woodstock, the party walked to 
 Houlton, having travelled twelve hundred miles, and de- 
 scribed almost an oval over the country by the time they 
 returned to Old Town on the Penobscot. While anx- 
 iously looking for * lumber lands,' they ascended the emi- 
 nences around, then climbed the tallest trees, and, by 
 means of a great telescope, inspected the pine woods in 
 the distance. And such excellent judges are these per- 
 sons of the value of the timber which they thus observe, 
 when it is situated at a convenient distance from water, 
 that they never afterwards forget the different spots at all 
 worthy of their attention. They had observed only a few 
 birds and quadrupeds, the latter principally porcupines. 
 The borders of the lakes and rivers afforded them fruits 
 of various sorts, and abundance of cranberries, while the 
 uplands yielded plenty of wild white onions and a species 
 of black plum. Some of the party continued their jour- 
 ney in canoes down the St. John's, ascended Eel River, 
 and the lake of the same name to Mattawamkeag River, 
 due south-west of the St. John's, and, after a few por- 
 tages, fell into the Penobscot I had made arrangements 
 to accompany Mr. Gillies on a journey of this kind, wlien 
 I judged it would be more interesting, as well as useful 
 to me, to visit the distant country of Labrador. 
 
 "The road which we followed from Old Town to 
 Bangor was literally covered with Penobscot Indians re- 
 turning from market. On reaching the latter beautiful 
 town, we found very comfortable lodgings in an excellent 
 hotel, and next day proceeded by the mail to Boston." 
 
 The following chapter gives some further knowledge 
 of what Audubon saw during his journey through the in* 
 terior of Maine. 
 
JL^ 
 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Episodes in Maine : The Maine Lumbermen, 
 
 HE men who are employed in cutting down the 
 trees, and conveying the logs to the saw-mills or 
 the places for shipping, are, in the State of 
 Maine, called * lumberers.' Their labors may be said to 
 begin before winter has commenced, and, while the 
 ground is yet uncovered by any great depth of snow, they 
 leave their homes to proceed to the interior of the pine 
 forests, which in that part of the country are truly mag- 
 nificent, and betake themselves to certain places already 
 well known to them. Their provisions, axes, saws, and 
 other necessary articles, together with the provender for 
 their cattle, are conveyed by oxen on heavy sleds. Al- 
 most at the commencement of their march thev are 
 obliged to enter the woods ; and they have frequently to 
 cut a way for themselves for considerable spaces, as the 
 ground is often covered with the decaying trunks of im- 
 mense trees, which have fallen either from age or in con- 
 sequence of accidental burnings. These trunks, and the 
 undergrowth which lies entangled in their tops, render 
 many places almost impassable even to men on foot. 
 Over miry ponds they are sometimes forced to form 
 causeways, this being, under all the circumstances, the 
 easiest mode of reaching the opposite side. Then, read- 
 er, is the time for witnessing the exertions of their fine, 
 large cattle. No rods do their drivers use to pain their 
 flanks ; no oaths or imprecations are ever heard to fall 
 from the lips of these most industrious and tempernte 
 
282 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 men ; for in them, as indeed in most of the inhabitants of 
 our Eastern States, education and habit have tempered 
 tlie passions and reduced the moral constitution to a 
 state of harmony — nay, the sobriety that exists in many 
 cf the villages of Maine I have often considered as car- 
 ried to excess, for on asking for brandy, rum, or whiskey, 
 not a drop could I obtain ; and it is probable there was 
 an equal lack of spirituous liquors of every other kind. 
 Now and then I saw some good old wdnes, but they were 
 always drunk in careful moderation. But to return to 
 tlie management of the oxen. Why, reader, the lumber- 
 ers speak to them as if they were rational beings : few 
 words seem to suffice, and their whole strength rs applied 
 to the labor, as if in gratitude to those who treat them 
 with so much gentleness and humanit}^ 
 
 " Wliile present, on more than one occasion, at w^hat 
 Americans *call ploughing matches,' which they have an- 
 nually in many of the States, I have been highly gratified, 
 and in particular at one — of which I still have a strong 
 recollection, — and w'hich took place a few miles from the 
 fair and hospitable dty of Boston, There I saw fifty or 
 more ploughs draw^n by as many pairs of oxen, which per- 
 formed their work with so much accuracy and regularit}^, 
 without the infliction of whip or rod, but merely guided 
 by the verbal mandates of the ploughmen, that I was per- 
 fectly astonished. 
 
 '* After surmounting all obstacles, the lumberers, with \[\q, 
 stock they have provided, arrive at the spot which they 
 have had in view, and immediately commence building a 
 camp. The trees around soon fall under the blows of 
 their axes, and, before many days have elapsed, a low 
 habitation is reared and fitted within for the accommoda- 
 tion of their cattle, while their provender is secured on a 
 kind of loft, covered with broad shingles or boards. Then 
 their own cabin is put up ; rough bedsteads, manufactured 
 
TVood Cutting in Winter, 28? 
 
 on the spot, are fixed in the corners ; a chimney, com- 
 posed of a frame of sticks plastered with mud, leads away 
 the smoke ; the skins of bears or deer, with some blankets, 
 form their bedding ; and around the walls are hung their 
 changes of homespun clothing, guns, and various neces- 
 saries of life. Many prefer spending the night en the 
 sweet-scented hay and corn blades of thoir cattle, which 
 are laid on the ground. All arranged within, the lumber- 
 ers set around their camp their * dead falls,' large * steel 
 traps,' and * spring gims,' in suitable places to procure 
 some of the bears that ever prowl around such establish- 
 ments. Now the heavy clouds of November, driven by 
 the northern blast, pour down the snow in feathery flakes. 
 The winter has fairly set in, and seldom do the sun's glad- 
 dening rays fall on the woodcutter's hut. In warm flan- 
 nels his body is enveloped, the skin of a racoon covers 
 his head and brow, his moose-skin leggings reach the 
 girdle that secures them round his waist, while on broad 
 moccasins, or snow-shoes, he stands from the earliest dawn 
 till night hacking away at the majestic pines that for a 
 century past have embellished the forest. The fall of 
 these valuable trees no longer resoimds on the ground j 
 and as they tumble here and there, nothing is heard but 
 the rustling and crackling of their branches, their heavy 
 ti*unks sinking into the deep snow. Thousands of large 
 pines thus cut down every winter afford room for the 
 younger trees, which spring up profusely to supply the 
 wants of man. Weeks and weeks have elapsed, the earth's 
 pure v/hite covering has become thickly and firmly crusted 
 bv the increasinor intensitv of the cold, the fallen trees 
 have all been sawn into measured logs, and the long re- 
 pose of the oxen has fitted them for hauling them to the 
 nearest frozen stream. The ice gradually becomes cov- 
 ered with the accumulating mass of timber, and their task 
 completed, the lumberers wait impatiently for the break- 
 
284 J-'^f^ of Auduhon, 
 
 ing up of winter. At this period they pass the time in 
 hunting the moose, the deer and the bear, for the benefit 
 of their wives and children ; and as these men are most 
 excellent woodsmen, great havoc is made among the 
 game ; many skins, sables, martins and muskrats, they 
 have procured during the intervals of their labor, or un- 
 der night. The snows are now giving way as the rains 
 descend in torrents, and the lumberers collect their uten- 
 sils, harness their cattle, and prepare for their return. 
 This they accomplish in safety. From being lumberers, 
 they become millers, and with pleasure each applies the gra- 
 ting file to his saws. Many logs have already reached the 
 dams on the swollen waters of the rushing streams, and the 
 task commences, which is carried on through the sum- 
 mer, of cutting them up into boards. The great heat of 
 the dog-days has parched the ground ; every creek has 
 become a shallow, except here and there where, in a deep 
 hole, the salmon and the trout have found a retreat : the 
 sharp slimy angles of multitudes of rocks project, as if to 
 afford resting-places to the wood-ducks and herons that 
 breed on the borders of these streams. Thousands of 
 ^ saw-logs ' remain in every pool, beneath and above 
 each rapid or fall. The miller's dam has been emptied 
 of its timber, and he must now resort to some expedient 
 to procure a fresh supply. It w^as my good fortune to 
 witness the method employed for the purpose of collecting 
 the logs that had not reached their destination, and I 
 had the more pleasure that it was seen in company with 
 my little family. I wish, for your sake, reader, that I 
 could describe in an adequate manner the scene which 
 I viewed ; but although not so well qualified as I could 
 wish, rely upon it that the desire w'hich I feel to gratify 
 you will induce me to use all my endeavors to give you 
 an idea of it. It w^as the month of September. 
 
 "At the upper extremity of Dennisville, which is it- 
 
Starting the Logs. 285 
 
 self a pretty village, are the saw-mills and ponds of the 
 hospitable Judge Lincoln and other persons. The creek 
 that conveys the logs to these ponds, and which bears the 
 name of the village, is interrupted in its course by man^ 
 rapids and narrow embanked gorges. One of the latter 
 is situated about half a mile above the mill-dam, and is so 
 rocky and rugged in the bottom and sides as to preclude 
 the possibility of the trees passing along it at low water, 
 while, as I conceived, it w^ould have given no slight labor 
 to an army of woodsmen or millers to move the thousands 
 of large logs that had accumulated in it. They lay piled in 
 confused heaps to a great height along an extent of sev- 
 eral hundred yards, and were in some places so close as to 
 have formed a kind of dam. Above the gorge there is a 
 large natural reservoir, in which the headwaters of the 
 creek settle, while only a small portion of these ripple 
 through the gorge below, during the latter weeks of sum- 
 mer and in early autumn, when their streams are at the 
 lowest. At the neck of this basin the lumberers raised a 
 temporary barrier with the refuse of their sawn logs. The 
 boards were planted nearly upright, and supported at 
 their tops by a strong tree extended from side to side 
 of the creek, which might there be about forty feet in 
 breadth. It was prevented from giving way under the 
 pressure of the rising waters by having strong abutments 
 of wood laid against its centre, while the ends of these 
 abutments were secured by wedges, which could be 
 knocked off when necessary. The temporary dam was 
 now finished. Little or no water escaped through the 
 barrier, and that in the creek above it rose in the course 
 of three weeks to its top, which was about ten feet high, 
 forming a sheet that extended upwards fully a mile from 
 the dam. My family were invited early one mornmg to 
 go and witness the extraordinary effect which would te 
 produced by the breaking down of the barrier, and we all 
 
2S6 Life of Audubon, 
 
 accompanied the lumberers to the place. Two of the 
 men, on reaching it, threw off their jackets, tied hand- 
 kerchiefs round their heads, and fastened to their bodies 
 a long rope, the end of w'hich was held by three or four 
 others, who stood ready to drag their companions ashore, 
 in case of danger or accident. The two operators, each 
 bearing an axe, walked along the abutments, and, at a 
 given signal, knocked out the wedges. A second blow 
 from each sent off the abutments themselves, and the men, 
 leaping with extreme dexerity from one cross-log to an- 
 other, sprung to the shore with almost the quickness of 
 thought. Scarcely had they effected their escape from 
 the frightful peril that threatened them, when the mass of 
 w^aters burst forth with a horrible uproar. All eyes were 
 bent towards the huge heaps of logs in the gorge belov/. 
 The tumultuous burst of the waters instantly swept away 
 every object that opposed their progress, and rushed in 
 foaming waves among the timber that everywhere blocked 
 up the passage. Presently a slow heavy motion was per- 
 ceived in the mass of logs ; one might have imagined that 
 some mighty monster lay convulsively writhing beneath 
 them, struggling, with a fearful energy, to extricate him- 
 self from the crushing weight. As the waters rose this 
 movement increased ; the mass of timber extended in all 
 directions, appearing to becom more and more en- 
 tangled each moment ; the logs bounced against each 
 other, thrusting aside, submerging or raising into the air, 
 those with which they came in contact. It seemed as if 
 they were waging a war of destruction, such as the 
 ancient authors describe the efforts of the Titans, the 
 foaming of whose wrath might, to the eye of the painter, 
 have been represented by the angry curlings of the wa- 
 ters, while the tremulous and rapid motions of the logs, 
 which at times reared themselves almost perpendicularly, 
 might by the poet have been taken for the shakings of 
 
I^he Force of the Waters. 287 
 
 the confounded and discomfited giants. Now the rush- 
 ing element filled up the gorge to the brim. The logs, 
 once under way, rolled, reared, tossed, and tumbled amid 
 the foam, as they were carried along. Many of the small- 
 er trees broke across ; from others, great splinters were 
 sent up, and all were in some degree seamed and scarred. 
 Then, in tumultuous majesty, swept along the mangled 
 wreck : the current being now increased to such a pitch, 
 that the logs, as they were dashed against the rocky 
 shores, resounded like the report of distant artillery, or 
 the rumblings of the thunder. Onward it rolls, the em- 
 blem of wreck and ruin, destruction and chaotic strife. 
 It seemed to me as if I witnessed the rout of a rash 
 army, surprised, overwhelmed, and overthrown : the roar 
 of the cannon, the groans of the dying, and the shouts of 
 the avengers, were thundering through my brain ; and 
 amid the frightful confusion of the scene there came over 
 my spirit a melancholy feeling, which had not entirely 
 vanished at the end of many days. In a few hours al- 
 most all the timber that had lain heaped in the rocky 
 gorge was floating in the great pond of the millers, and 
 as we walked homewards we talked of \hQ foire of the 
 waters y 
 
 w^^^m 
 
CHAPTER XXV, 
 
 Visit to the BayofFundy. 
 
 HILE visiting Eastport, Audubon made a trip to 
 the Bay of Fundy and some of its neighboring 
 ^ islands, in search of the birds which resort there ; 
 and the following episode is his own graphic account of 
 that journey : — 
 
 " The Bay of Fundy. 
 
 " It was in the month of May that I sailed in the 
 United States revenue cutter the Swiftsure, engaged in a 
 cruise in the Bay of Fundy. Our sails were quickly un- 
 furled, and spread out to the breeze. 
 
 " The vessel seemed to fly over the liquid element, as 
 the sun rose in full splendor, while the clouds that floated 
 here and there formed, with tlieir glowing hues, a rich 
 contrast with the pure azure of the heavens above us. We 
 approached apace the island of Grand Menan, of which 
 the stupendous cliffs gradually emerged from the deep, 
 with the majestic boldness of her noblest native chief. 
 Soon our bark passed beneath its craggy head, covered 
 ' .th trees which, on account of the height, seemed scarce- 
 ly larger than shrubs. The prudent raven spread her 
 pinions, launched from the cliff, and flew away before us ; 
 the golden eagle, soaring aloft, moved majestically along 
 in wide circles ; the guillemots sat on their eggs upon the 
 shelvy precipices, or, plunging into the water, dived and 
 rose again at a great distance ; the broad-breasted eider- 
 duck covered her eggs among the grassy tufts; on a 
 
White-head Island. 289 
 
 naked rock the seal lazily basked, its sleek sides glisten- 
 ing in the sunshine ; while shoals of porpoises were 
 swiftly gliding through the waters around us, showing by 
 their gambols that, although doomed to the deep, their 
 life was not devoid of pleasure. Far away stood the bold 
 shores of Nova Scotia, gradually fading in the distance, 
 of which the gray tints beautifully reheved the wing-like 
 sails of many a fishing-bark. Cape after cape, forming 
 eddies and counter-currents far too terrific to be des- 
 cribed by a landsman, we passed in succession, until we 
 reached a deep cove near the shores of White-head Isl- 
 and, which is divided from Grand Menan by a narrow 
 strait, where we anchored secure from every blast that 
 could blow. In a short time we found ourselves under 
 the roof of Captain Frankland, the sole owner of the isle, 
 of which the surface contains about fifteen hundred acres. 
 He received us all with politeness, and gave us permission 
 to seek out its treasures, which we immediately set about 
 doing, for I was anxious to study the habits of certain 
 gulls that breed there in great numbers. As Captain 
 Coolidge, our worthy commander, had assured me, we 
 found them on their nests on almost every tree of a wood 
 that covered several acres. What a treat, reader, was it 
 to find birds of this kind lodged on fir-trees, and sitting 
 comfortably on their eggs ! 
 
 " Their loud cackling notes led us to their place )f 
 resort, and ere long we had satisfactorily observed th.jir 
 habits, and collected as many of themselves and their 
 eggs as we considered sufficient. In our walks we no- 
 ticed a rat, the only quadruped found in the island, and 
 observed abundance of gooseberries, currants, rasps, 
 strawberries, and huckleberries. Seating ourselves on the 
 summit of the rocks, in view of the vast Atlantic, we 
 spread out our stores and refreshed ourselves with our 
 simple fare. Now we followed the objects of our pursuit 
 13 
 
^QO Life of Audubon, 
 
 through the tangled woods, now carefully picked our steps 
 over the spongy grounds. The air was filled with the 
 melodious concerts of birds, and all Nature seemed to 
 smile in quiet enjoyment. We wandered about until the 
 setting sun warned us to depart, when, returning to the 
 house of the proprietor, we sat down to an excellent 
 repast, and amused ourselves with relating anecdotes and 
 forming arrangements for the morrow. Our captain com- 
 plimented us on our success when we reached the Swift- 
 sure, and in due time we betook ourselves to our ham- 
 mocks. The next morning, a strange sail appearing in 
 the distance, preparations were instantly made to pay her 
 commander a visit. The signal-staff of * Whitehead 
 Island ' displayed the British flag, while Captain Frank- 
 land and his men stood on the shore, and as we gave our 
 sails to the wind, three hearty cheers filled the air, and 
 were instantly responded to by us. The vessel was soon 
 approached, but all was found right with her, and, squar- 
 ing our yards, onward we sped, cheerily bounding over 
 the gay billows, until our captain set us ashore at East- 
 port. At another time my party was received on board 
 the revenue cutter's tender, the Fancy, a charming name 
 for so beautiful a craft. We set sail towards evening. 
 The cackling of the 'old wives,' that covered the bay, 
 filled me with delight, and thousands of gulls and cor- 
 morants seemed as if anxious to pilot us into ' Head Har- 
 bor Bay,' where we anchored for the night. Leaping on 
 the rugged shore, we made our way to the lighthouse, 
 where we found Mr. Snelling, a good and honest Eng- 
 lishman, from Devonshire. His family consisted of three 
 wild-looking lasses, beautiful, like the most finished pro- 
 ductions of Nature. In his lighthouse, snugly ensconced, 
 he spent his days in peaceful forgetfulness of the world, 
 subsisting principally on the fish of the bay. When day 
 broke, how delightful it was to see fair Nature open her 
 
Forest Sounds, 291 
 
 graceful eyelids, and present herself arrayed in all that 
 was richest and purest before her Creator ! Ah ! reader, 
 how indelibly are such moments engraved upon my soul ! 
 with what ardor have I at such times gazed around me, 
 full of the desire of being enabled to comprehend all that 
 I saw ! How often have I longed to converse with the 
 feathered inhabitants of the forest, all of which seemed 
 then intent on offering up their dianks to the object of my 
 own adoration ! But the wish could not be gratified, 
 although I now feel satisfied that I have enjoyed as much 
 of the wonders and beauties of Nature as it was proper 
 for me to enjoy. The delightful trills of the winter wren 
 rolled through the underwood, the red squirrel smacked 
 time with his chops, the loud notes of the robin sounded 
 clearly from the tops of the trees, the rosy grosbeak nip- 
 ped the tender blossoms of the maples, and high over- 
 head the loons passed in pairs, rapidly wending their way 
 toward far-distant shores. Would that I could have fol- 
 low^ed in their wake ! The hour of our departure had 
 come, and, as we sailed up the bay, our pilot, who had 
 been fishing for cod, was taken on board. A few of his 
 fish were roasted on a plank before the embers, and form- 
 ed the principal part of our breakfast. The breeze was 
 light, and it was not until afternoon that we arrived at 
 Point Lepreaux Harbor, where every one, making choice 
 of his course, went in search of curiosities or provender. 
 Now, reader, the little harbor in which, if you wish it, we 
 shall suppose we still are, is renowned for a circumstance 
 which I feel much inclined to endeavor to explain to you. 
 Several species of ducks, that in myriads cover the waters 
 of the Bay of Fundy, are at times destroyed in this par- 
 ticular spot in a very singular manner. When July has 
 come, all the water birds that are no longer capable of 
 reproducing remain, like so many forlorn bachelors and 
 old maids, to renew their plumage along the shores. At 
 
2^2 Life of Audubon. 
 
 the period when these poor birds are unfit for flight, troops 
 of Indians make their appearance in light bark canoes, 
 paddled by their squaws and papooses. They form their 
 flotilla into an extended curve, and drive the birds before 
 them ; not in silence, but with simultaneous horrific yells, 
 at the same time beating the surface of the w-ater with 
 their long poles and paddles. Terrified by the noise, the 
 birds swim a long way before them, endeavoring to escape 
 with all their might. The tide is high, eveiy cove is fill- 
 ed, and into the one where we now are thousands of ducks 
 are seen entering. The Indians have ceased to shout, 
 and the canoes advance side by side. Time passes on, 
 the tide swiftly recedes as it rose, and there are the birds 
 left on the beach. See with what pleasure each Vv'ild in- 
 habitant of the forest seizes his stick, the squaws and 
 younglings following with similar weapons! Look at 
 them rushing on their prey, falling on the disabled birds, 
 and smashing them with their cudgels, until all are de- 
 stroyed ! In this manner upwards of five hundred wild 
 fowls have often been procured in a few hours. Three 
 pleasant days were spent about Point Lepreaux, when 
 the Fancy spread her wings to the breeze. In one har- 
 bor we fished for shells, w^ith a capital dredge, and in 
 another searched along the shore for eggs. The Passama- 
 quoddy chief is seen gliding sw-iftly over the deep in his 
 fragile bark. He has observed a porpoise breathing. 
 Watch him, for now he is close upon the unsuspecting 
 dolphin. He rises erect ; aims his musket : smoke rises 
 curling from the pan, and rushes from the iron tube, when 
 soon after the report reaches the ear : meantime, the 
 porpoise has suddenly turned back downwards; it is 
 dead. The body weighs a hundred pounds or more, but 
 this, to the tough-fibred son of the woods, is nothing ; he 
 reaches it wdth his muscular arms, and, at a single jerk — 
 while with his legs he dexterously steadies the canoe — 
 
Tide, 293 
 
 he throws it lengthwise at his feet. Amidst the highest 
 waves of the Bay of Fundy, these feats are performed by 
 the Indians during the whole of the season, when the 
 porpoises resort thither. 
 
 " You have often, no doubt, heard of the extraordina- 
 ry tides of this bay ; so had I, but, like others, I was loth 
 to believe that the reports were strictly true. So I went 
 to the pretty town of Windsor, in Nova Scotia, to judge 
 for myself. 
 
 " But let us leave the Fancy for awhile, and fancy our- 
 selves at Windsor. Late one day in August, my com- 
 panions and I were seated on the grassy elevated bank 
 of the river, about eighty feet or so above its bed, which 
 was almost dry, and extended for nine miles below like a 
 sandy wilderness. Many vessels lay on the high banks, 
 taking in their cargo of gypsum. We thought the ap- 
 pearance very singular, but we were too late to watch the 
 tide that evening. Next morning we resumed our sta- 
 tion, and soon perceived the water flowing toward us, and 
 rising with a rapidity of which we had previously seen no 
 example. We planted along the steep declivity of the 
 bank a number of sticks, each three feet long, the base 
 of one being placed on a level with the top of that below 
 it, and when about half flow the tide reached their tops, 
 one after another, rising three feet in ten minutes, or 
 eighteen in the hour, and at high water the surface was 
 sixty-five feet above the bed of the river. On looking 
 for the vessels which we had seen the previous evening, 
 we were told that most of them had gone with the night 
 tide. But now we are again on board the Fancy ; Mr. 
 Claredge stands near the pilot, who sits next to the man 
 at the helm. On we move swiftly, for the breeze has 
 freshened ; many islands we pass in succession ; the wind 
 increases to a gale. With reefed sails we dash along, 
 and now rapidly pass a heavily-laden sloop, gallantly run* 
 
294 -^^f^ of Auduhon, 
 
 ning across our course with undiminished sail, when sud- 
 denly we see her upset. Staves and spars are floating 
 around, and presently we observe three men scrambling 
 up her sides, and seating themselves on the keel, where 
 they make signals of distress to lis. By this time we 
 have run to a great distance ; but Claredge, cool and 
 prudent, as every seaman ought to be, has already issued 
 his orders to the helmsman and crew, and, now near the 
 wind, we gradually approach the sufferers. A line is 
 thrown to them, and next moment we are alongside the 
 vessel. A fisher's boat, too, has noticed the disaster, and 
 with long strokes of her oars, advances, now rising on 
 the curling wave, and now sinking out of sight. By our 
 mutual efforts the men are brought on board, and the 
 sloop is slowly towed into a safe harbor. In an hour af- 
 ter my party was safely landed at Eastport, where, on 
 looking over the waters, and observing the dense masses 
 of vapors that veiled the shore, we congratulated our- 
 selves at having escaped from the Bay of Fund y J'' 
 
 <a«» 
 
 ^^/' 
 
 6^^^^^ 
 

 CHAPTER XXVL 
 
 Return to Boston — Wanderings in the Neighborhood-— Voyage to Lab' 
 rador in the Schooner Ripley — Misadventures at Little River — 
 Seal and Mud Islands — The Gut of Canseait. 
 
 ROM Frederickton Audubon retui-ned in a private 
 conveyance to Houlton, thence along the United 
 States military road to Bangor, and thence by 
 public stages to Boston, where "he arrived early in Octo- 
 ber. Finding that it would improve his great work on 
 the " Birds " to remain another year in America, and visit 
 parts of the country yet unexplored by him, Audubon 
 determined to send his eldest son Victor to England, to 
 superintend the engraving, and to look after his general 
 interests there. Victor iVudubon accordingly sailed from 
 New York for Liverpool, toward the end of October, while 
 his father remained in Boston during that and the following 
 winter, actively engaged in making drawings of new birds 
 which he had discovered, and also in redrawing and 
 greatly improving some of his older drawings. He also 
 made frequent excursions into the surrounding countr}\ 
 " Here," says the Journal, " I was witness to the melan- 
 choly death of the great Spurzheim, and was myself sud- 
 denly attacked by a short but severe illness, which greatly 
 alarmed my family ; but thanks to Providence and my 
 medical friends, Parkman, Shattuck, and Warren, I was 
 soon enabled to proceed witirmy labor — a sedentary life 
 and too close application being the cause assigned for 
 my indisposition. I resolved to set out again in quest of 
 fresh materials for my pencil and pen. My wishes direct- 
 
296 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 ing me to Labiador, I returned eastward ^Yith my young- 
 est son, and had the pleasure of being joined by foui 
 young gentlemen, all fond of natural history, and willing 
 to encounter the difficulties and privations of the voyage — 
 George Shattuck, Thomas Lincoln, William Ingalls, and 
 Joseph Coolidge." 
 
 The schooner Ripley was chartered at Boston for fif- 
 teen hundred dollars for the trip to Labrador. The 
 journal containing the narrative begins at Eastport. 
 
 " yime 4, 1833. The day has been fine, and I dined 
 with Captain Ghilds, commanding the United States 
 troops here. We had a pleasant dinner, but I am impa- 
 tient to be under weigh for Labrador. The vessel is be- 
 ing prepared for our reception and departure ; and we 
 have concluded to ship two extra sailors, and a boy, to be 
 a sort of major-domo, to clean our guns, hunt for nests 
 and birds, and assist in skinning them, &:c. While ram- 
 bling in the woods this morning I discovered a crow's 
 nest with five young ones in it, and as I climbed the tree 
 the parents came to the rescue of their children, cr}'ing 
 loudly and with such perseverance, that in fifteen minutes 
 more than fifty pairs of these birds had joined in their 
 vociferations, although I saw only a single pair when I 
 began to climb the tree. 
 
 '''' Jime 6. We sailed from Eastport about one 
 o'clock p. M., and the whole male population seemed to 
 have turned out to witness our departure, just as if no 
 schooner of the size of the Ripley had ever gone from 
 this mighty port to Labrr.dor ; our numerous friends came 
 with the throng, and we all shook hands as if we were 
 never to meet again ; and as we pushed off with a trifling 
 accident or so, the batteries of the garrison and the can- 
 non of the revenue cutter in the stream saluted us with 
 stout, loud, and oft-repeated reports. Captain Coolidge 
 accompanied us, and was, indeed, our pilot, until we 
 
'The Bay of Funiy, 297 
 
 passed Lubec. The wind was light and ahead, and yet 
 with the assistance of the tide we drifted twenty-five 
 miles down to Little River during the night. 
 
 " Jun^. 7. This morning found us riding at anchor 
 near soins ugly-looking rocks, the sight of which caused 
 our captain to try to get out of their way, and the whole 
 morning was spent in trying to get into Little River, but 
 the men were unable to tow us in. We landed for a few 
 minutes and shot a hermit thrush, but the wind sprang 
 up, and we returned to the vessel and tried to put out to 
 sea ; we were for a time in danger of drifting upon the 
 rocks, but tlie wind increased, and we made our way out 
 to sea. Suddenly, however, the fog came drifting in, and 
 was so thick that we could hardly see the bowsprit, and 
 the night was spent m direful apprehension of some im- 
 pending evil ; although, about twelve, squalls of wind de- 
 cided in our favor, and when day dawned the wind w^as 
 blowing fresh from the north, and we were driving on the 
 waters, all sea-sick, and crossing that worst of all dread- 
 ful bays, the Bay of Fundy. 
 
 " June 8. We sailed between Seal and Mud Islands. 
 In the latter the procellaria (a species of gull) breed 
 abundantly j their nests are dug in the sand to the depth 
 of two feet or more, and the whole island is covered with 
 them, looking like rat holes. They lay three white eggs." 
 
 The next two days recorded in the Journal describe 
 the winds and sights, and birds which were seen as the 
 voyagers scudded from Cape Sable to the Gut of Can- 
 seau, so named by the early French voyagers, because 
 they found vast quantities of wild geese there. The 
 wind was fair, and the captain of the Ripley wished 
 to continue his course to Labrador. But Audubon, anx- 
 ious to explore ever}^ part of the coast along which they 
 were sailing, persuaded the captain to come to anchor in 
 a harbor in the Gut of Canseau, of the same name. 
 13* 
 
298 Life of Audubon, 
 
 Here he found twenty sail of Labrador fishermen at 
 anchor, and obtained the information which enabled him 
 to write the following episode. 
 
 " Although I had seen, as I thought, abundance of 
 fish along the coasts of the Fbridas, the numbers which I 
 found in Labrador quite astonished me. Should your 
 surprise while reading the following statements be as great 
 as mine was while observing the facts related, you will 
 conclude, as I have often done, that Nature's means for 
 providing small animals for the use of large ones, vice 
 versa, are as ample as is the grandeur of that world which 
 she has so curiously constructed. The coast of Labrador 
 is visited by European as well as American fishermen, all 
 of ^vhom are, I believe, entitled to claim portions of fish- 
 ing ground, assigned to each nation by mutual under- 
 standing. For the present, however, I shall confine my 
 observations to those who chiefly engage in this depart- 
 ment of our commerce. Eastport in Maine sends out 
 every year a goodly fleet of schooners and * pick-axes ' to 
 Labrador, to procure cod, mackerel, halibut, and some- 
 times herring, the latter being caught in the intermediate 
 space. The vessels from that port, and others in Maine 
 and Massachusetts, sail as soon as the warmth of spring 
 has freed tlie gulf of ice, that is from the beginning of May 
 to that of June. 
 
 " A vessel of one hundred tons or so is provided with 
 a crew of twelve men, who are equally expert as sailors 
 and fishers, and for every couple of these hardy tars a 
 Hampton boat is provided, which is lashed on the deck or 
 hung in stays. Their provision is simple, but of good 
 quality, and it is very seldom any spirits are allowed ; beef, 
 pork, and biscuit, with water, being all they take with 
 them. The men are supplied with warm clothing, water- 
 proof oil jackets and trousers, large boots, broad-brimmed 
 hats with a round crown, and stout mittens, Vvith a few 
 
Fishing Life in Labrador, 299 
 
 shirts. The owner or captain furnishes them with lines, 
 hooks, and nets, and also provides the bait best adapted 
 to insure success. The hold of the vessel is filled with 
 casks of various dimensions, some containing salt, and 
 others for the oil that may be procured. The bait gen- 
 erall}^ used at the beginning of the season consists of 
 mussels, salted for the purpose ; but as soon as the cape- 
 lings reach the coast, they are substituted to save expense j 
 and, in many instances, the flesh of gannets and other 
 sea-fowl is employed. The wages of fishermen vary 
 from sixteen to tliirty dollars per month, according to the 
 qualifications of the individual. The labor of these men 
 is excessively Iiard, for, except on Sunday, their allow- 
 ance of rest in the twenty-four hours seldom exceeds three. 
 The cook is the only person who fares better in this re- 
 spect, but he must also assist in curing the fish. He has 
 breakfast, consisting of coffee, bread, and meat, ready for 
 the captain and the whcle crew, by tliree o'clock every 
 morning excejDt Sunday. Each person carries with him 
 his dinner ready cooked, which is commonly eaten on the 
 fishing-ground. Thus, at three in the morning, the crew 
 are prepared for their day's labor, and ready to betake 
 themselves to their boats, each of which has two oars and 
 lug-sails. They all depart at once, and either by rowing 
 or sailing, reach the banks to which the fishes are known 
 to resort. The little squadron drop their anchors at short 
 distances from each other, in a depth of from ten to 
 twenty feet, and the business is immediately commenced. 
 Each man has two lines, and each stands in one end of 
 the boat, the middle of which is boarded off to hold the 
 fish. The baited lines have been dropped into the wa- 
 ter, one on each side of the boat; their leads have 
 touched the bottom ; a fish has taken the hook, and after 
 giving the line a slight jerk, the fisherman hauls up his 
 prize with a continued pull, throws the fish athwart a 
 
300 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 small round bar of iron placed near his back, which forces 
 open the mouth, while the weight of the body, however 
 small the fish may be, tears out the hook. The bait is 
 still good, and over the side the line again goes, to catch 
 another fish, while that on the left is now drawn up, and 
 the same course pursued. In this manner, a fisher busily 
 plying at each end, the operation is continued, until the 
 boat is so laden that her gunwale is brought within a few 
 inches of the surface, when they return to the vessel in 
 harbor, seldom distant more than eight miles from the 
 banks. During the greater part of the day the fishermen 
 have kept up a constant conversation, of which the 
 topics are the pleasures of finding a good supply of cod, 
 their domestic affairs, the political prospects of tlie na- 
 tion, and other matters similarly connected. Now the re- 
 partee of one elicits a laugh from the other ; this passes 
 from man to man, and the whole flotilla enjoy tlie joke. 
 The men of one boat strive to outdo those of the others 
 in hauling up the greatest quantity of fish in a given 
 time, and this forms another source of merriment. The 
 boats are generally filled about the same time, and all re- 
 turn together. Arrived at the vessel, each man employs a 
 pole armed with a bent iron, resembling the prong of a 
 hay-fork, with which he pierces tlie fish and throws it with 
 a jerk on deck, counting the number thus discharged with 
 a loud voice. Each cargo is thus safely deposited, and 
 the boats instantly return to the fishing ground, when, 
 after anchoring, the men eat their dinner and begin anew. 
 There, good reader, with your leave, I will let them pur- 
 sue their avocations for awhile, as I am anxious that you 
 should witness what is doing on board the vessel. The 
 captain, four men, and the cook have, in the course of the 
 morning, erected long tables fore and aft of the main 
 hatchway. They have taken to the shore most of the 
 salt barrels, and have placed in a row their large empty 
 
Fishing Life in Labrador, 301 
 
 casks to receive the livers. The hold of the vessel is 
 quite clear, except a corner, where is a large heap of salt. 
 And now the men, having dined precisely at twelve, are 
 ready with their large knives. One begins with breaking 
 off the head of the fish, a slight pull of the hand and a 
 gash with the knife effecting this in a moment. He slits 
 up the belly, with one hand pushes it aside to his neigh- 
 bor, then throws overboard the head and begins to doctor 
 another ; the next man tears out the entrails, separates 
 the liver, which he throws into a cask, and casts the rest 
 overboard. A third person dexterously passes his knife 
 beneath the vertebras of the fish, separates them from the 
 flesh, heaves the latter through the hatchway, and the 
 former into the water. Now, if you will peep into the 
 hold, you will see the last stage of the process, the salting 
 and packing. Six experienced men generally manage to 
 head, gut, bone, salt, and pack all the fish caught in the 
 morning, by the return of the boats with fresh cargoes, 
 when all hands set to work and clear the deck of the 
 fish. Thus their labors continue until twelve o'clock, 
 when they wash their faces and hands, put on clean 
 clothes, hang their fishing apparel on the shrouds, and, 
 betaking themselves to the forecastle, are soon in a sound 
 sleep. 
 
 " At three next morning comes the captain from his 
 bertli, rubbing his eyes, and in a loud voice calling, * All 
 hands, ho !' Stiffened in limb, and but half awake, the 
 crew quickly appear on deck. Their fingers and hands 
 are so cramped and swollen by pulling the lines that it is 
 difficult for them even to straighten a thumb ; but this 
 matters little at present, for the cook, who had a good 
 nap yesterday, has risen an hour before them, and pre- 
 pared their coffee and eatables. Breakfast despatched, 
 they exchange their clean clothes for the fishing apparel, 
 and leap into their boats, w^hich had been washed the 
 
302 ' Life of Audubon, 
 
 previous night, and again the flotilla bounds to the fish 
 ing ground. As there may be not less than loo schoon 
 ers or pick-axes in the harbor, 300 boats resort to the 
 banks each day; and as each boat may procure 2,000 
 cod per diem, when Saturday night comes, about 600,000 
 fishes have been brought to the harbor. Th'3 having 
 caused some scarcity on the fishing grounds, and Sunday 
 being somewhat of an idle day, the captain collects the 
 salt ashore, and sets sail for some other convenient har- 
 bor, which he expects to reach before sunset. If the 
 weather be favorable the men get a good deal of rest dur- 
 ing the voyage, and on Monday things go on as before. 
 I must not omit to tell you, reader, that while proceed- 
 ing from one harbor to another the vessel has passed 
 near a rock which is the breeding place of myriads of 
 puffins. She has laid to for an hour or so, while part of 
 the crew have landed and collected a store of eggs, ex- 
 cellent as a substitute for cream, and not less so when 
 hard boiled as food for the fishing grounds. I may as 
 well inform you also how these adventurous fellows dis- 
 tinguish the fresh eggs from the others. They fill up 
 some large tubs with water, throw in a quanuty of eggs, 
 and allow them to remain a minute or so, wiien those 
 which come to the surface are tossed overboard, and 
 even those that manifest any upward tendency share the 
 same treatment. All that remain at bottom, you may de- 
 pend upon it, good reader, are perfectly sound, and not 
 less palatable than any that you have ever eaten, or that 
 3' our best guinea-fowl has just dropped in your barn- 
 yard ; but let us return to th« cod-fish. The fish ;:lready 
 procured and salted is taken ashore at the new harbor by 
 part of the crew, whom the captain has marked as the 
 worst hands at fishing. There on the bare rocks, or ele- 
 vated scaffolds of considerable extent, the salted cods are 
 laid side by side to dry in the sun. They are turned 
 
Marvellous Life in Labrador. 303 
 
 several times a day, and in the intervals the men bear a 
 hand on board at clearing and stowing away the daily 
 produce of the fishing banks. Towards evening they re- 
 turn to the drying grounds, and put up the fish in piles 
 resembling so many haystacks, disposing those towards 
 the top in such a manner that the rain cannot injure 
 them, and placing a heavy stone on the summit to pre- 
 vent their being thrown down, should it blow hard dur- 
 ing the night. You see, reader, that the life of a Labra- 
 dor fisherman is not one of idleness. The capelings 
 have approached the shores, and in myriads enter every 
 basin and stream to deposit their spawn, for now July 
 is come, the cods follow them as the bloodhound follows 
 his prey, and their compact masses literally line the 
 shores. The fishermen now adopt another method. 
 They have brought with them long and deep seines, one 
 end of which is, by means of a line, fastened to the shore, 
 while the other is in the usual manner drawn out in a 
 broad sweep, to inclose as great a, space as possible, and 
 hauled on shore by means of a capstan. Some of the 
 men in boats support the corked part of the net, and 
 beat the water to frighten the fishes within towards the 
 land ; while others, armed with poles, enter the w^ater, 
 hook the fishes, and fling them on the beach, the net be- 
 ing gradually drawn closer as the number of fishes di- 
 minish. What do you think, reader, as to the number of 
 cods secured in tliis manner at a single haul i* — twenty or 
 thirty thousand. You may form some notion of the mat- 
 ter when I tell you that the young gentlemen of my party, 
 while going along the shores, caught cod-fish alive with 
 their hands, and trouts of weight with a piece of t\vine 
 and a mackerel hook hung to their gun rods ; and that 
 if two of them walked knee-deep along the rocks, holding 
 a handkerchief by the corners, they swept it full of 
 capelings : should you not trust me in this, I refer you 
 
304 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 to the fishermen themselves, or recommend you to go to 
 Labrador, where you will give credit to the testimony of 
 your eyes. The seining of the cod-fish is not, I believe, 
 quite lawful, for a great proportion of the codlings which 
 are dragged ashore at last are so small as to be con- 
 sidered useless, and, instead of being returned to the 
 water as they ought to be, are left on the shore, where 
 they are ultimately eaten by bears, wolves, and ravens. 
 The fishes taken along the coast or fishing stations only 
 a few miles off are of small dimensions, and I believe I 
 am correct in saying that few of them weigh more than 
 two pounds when perfectly cured, or exceed six when 
 taken out of the water. The fish are liable to several 
 diseases, and at times are annoyed by parasitic animals, 
 which in a short time render them lean and unfit for use. 
 Some individuals, from laziness or other causes, fish with 
 naked hooks, and thus frequently wound the cod without 
 securing them, in consequence of which the shoals are 
 driven away, to the detriment of the other fishers. Some 
 carry their cargoes to other ports before dr}'ing them, 
 while others dispose of them to agents from distant 
 shores. Some have only a pick-axe of fifty tons, while 
 others are owners of seven or eight vessels of equal or 
 larger burden ; but whatever be their means, should the 
 season prove favorable, they are generally well repaid 
 for their labor. I have known instances of men who on 
 their first voyage ranked as * boys,' and in ten years after 
 were in independent circumstances, although they still 
 continued to resort to the fishing. ^ For,' said they to 
 me, * how could we be content to spend our time in idle- 
 ness at home ? ' I know a person of this class wh' has 
 carried on the trade for many years, and who has quite a 
 little fleet of schooners, one of which, the largest and 
 most beautifully built, has a cabin as neat and comforta- 
 ble as any that I have ever seen in a vessel of the same 
 
Fishing. 305 
 
 size. This vessel took fish on board only when perfectly 
 cured, or acted as pilot to the rest, and now and then 
 would return home with an ample supply of halibut, or a 
 cargo of prime mackerel. On another occasion I will 
 offer some remarks on the improvements which I think 
 might be made in the cod fisheries f>f the coast of Labra- 
 dor." 
 
 ri' 
 
 ^ 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 E.n Route to Labrador — Gut of Canseau — Magdalene Island— 'Thl 
 Inhabitants — Ornithological Notes — Birds on the Rock — First 
 Impressions of Labrador — Halifax Eggers. 
 
 " June II. From the entrance to the Gut of Canseau, 
 where the Ripley lay at anchor, Audubon had the first 
 view of the South-eastern coast of Nova Scotia, which he 
 describes as * dreary, rocky, poor and inhospitable look- 
 ing.' It snowed the next day, yet when the party went 
 ashore, they found not only trees in bloom, but the ground 
 plants were in flower, and some tolerably good-looking 
 grass j and they saw also robins, and sparrows, and 
 finches, and their nests with young ones. But no custom- 
 house officer appeared, nor any individual who could 
 give them any valuable information. They found lobsters 
 very abundant, and caught forty in a very short time; 
 but to their surprise they did not see a single bird. 
 
 " June 12. To day there has been cold, rain and hail, 
 but the frogs are piping in the pools. By-and-by the 
 weather became beautiful, and the wind fair, and we 
 were soon under way, following in the wake of the whole 
 fleet, which had been anchored in the harbor of Canseau, 
 and gliding across the great bay under full press of sail. 
 The land locked us in, the water was smooth, the sky 
 serene, and the thermometer at 46^,and the sunshine on 
 deck was very agreeable. After sailing twenty-one miles 
 we entered the real Gut of Canseau, passing one after 
 another every vessel of the fleet with which we had sailed. 
 
 " The land on each side now rose in the form of an am- 
 phitheatre, and on the Nova Scotia side to a considerable 
 
'I'he Gut of Canseau, 30*^ 
 
 height ; dwellings appeared here and there, but the coun- 
 try is too poor for comfort : the timber is small, and the 
 land too stony ; a small patch of ploughed land planted, 
 or ready for potatoes, was all the cultivation we saw. 
 Near one house we saw a few apple trees, which were 
 not yet in bloom. The general appearance of this pas- 
 sage reminded me of some parts of the Hudson River, 
 and, accompanied as we were by thirty sail of vessels, 
 the time passed agreeably. Vegetation appeared as for- 
 ward as at Eastport : saw a few chimney swallows, and 
 heard a few blue jays. As we passed Cape Porcupine, 
 a high rounding hill, we saw some Indians in birch-bark 
 canoes, and clearing Cape George we were soon in the 
 gulf of St. Lawrence. From this place, on the 20th of 
 May last year, the sea was a sheet of ice as far as the 
 eye could reach with the aid of a good spy-glass. 
 
 " We ran down the west coast of Cape Breton Island, 
 and the country looked well in the distance ; large undu- 
 lating hills were covered with many hamlets, and patches 
 of cultivated land were seen. It being calm when we 
 neared Jestico Island, about three miles from Cape Breton, 
 I left the vessel and landed on it. It was covered with 
 well-grown grass, and filled with strawberry vines in full 
 bloom. The sun shone brightly, the weather was pleas- 
 ant, and we found many northern birds breeding there j 
 the wild gooseberries were plentiful, about the size of a 
 pea, and a black currant also. The wind arose, and we 
 hurried back to the vessel ; on the way my son John and 
 some of the sailors nearly killed a seal with their oars. 
 
 " ytine 13. This morning at four o'clock we came in 
 sight of the Magdalene Islands, distant about twenty 
 miles. The morning was dull, and by breakfast-time a 
 thick fog obscured the horizon, and we lost sight of the 
 islands ; the wind rose sluggishly and dead ahead, and 
 several ships and brigs loaded with timber from the Mira- 
 
3o8 Life of Audubon. 
 
 michie came near us beating their way to the Atlantic. 
 At nine o'clock we dropped anchor, being partly land- 
 locked between Breton Island and the Highlands, and 
 within a quarter of a mile of an Island, which formed a 
 part of the group. The pilot, who is well acquainted here, 
 informed me that the islands are all connected by diT 
 sand-bars, and with no channel between them except the 
 one we are in, called Entree Bay, which is formed by 
 Entree Island and a long sand-spit connecting it with 
 the mainland. The island is forty-eight miles long, and 
 three in breadth ; the formation is a red rough sandy 
 soil, and the north-west side is constantly wearing away 
 by the action of the sea. Guilkmots were seated up- 
 right along the projecting shelvings in regular order, 
 resembling so many sentinels on the look-out j many gan- 
 nets also were seen on the extreme points of the island. 
 On one of the islands were many houses, and a small 
 church, and on the highest land a large cross, indicating 
 the religion of the inhabitants. Several small vessels 
 lay in the harbor called Pleasant Bay, but the weather is 
 so cold we cannot visit them until to-morrow. 
 
 " yune 14, 1833. Magdalene Islands, Gulf of St. 
 Lawrence. It is one week since we left Eastport, and we 
 breakfasted with the thermometer at 44° in our cabin, 
 and on deck it feels like mid-winter. We landed on the 
 island next to us so chilled that we could scarcely use our 
 hands ; two large bluffs frowned on each side of us, the 
 resort of many sea-birds, and some noble ravens which 
 we saw. Following a narrow path we soon came upon 
 one of God's best finished jewels, a woman. She saw us 
 first, for women are always keenest in sight and percep- 
 tion, in patience and fortitude and love, in faith and sor- 
 row, and, as I believe, in everything else which adorns 
 our race. She was hurrying towards her cottage, with a 
 child in her arms having no covering but a little shirt. 
 
T^he Church, 303 
 
 The mother was dressed in coarse French homespun, with 
 a close white cottcn nightcap on lier head, and the mild 
 est-looking woman I had seen in many a day. At a ven- 
 ture I addessed her in French, and it answered well, for 
 she replied in an unintelligible jargon, about one-third of 
 .vhich I understood, which enabled me to make out that 
 she was the wife o'f a fisherman who lived there. 
 
 "We walked on through the woods toward the 
 church. Who would have expected to find a church on 
 such an island, among such impoverished people ? Yet 
 here it was, a Roman Catholic church. And here we 
 came suddenly on a handsome, youthful, vigorous, black- 
 haired and black-bearded fellow, covered with a long gar- 
 ment as black as a raven, and having a heart as light as 
 a young lark's. He was wending his way to the church, 
 at the sound of a bell, which measured twelve inches by 
 nine in diameter, of about thirty pounds weight, which 
 could nevertheless be heard for a quarter of a mile. It 
 was the festival among the Roman Catholics of La Petite 
 Fete de Dieu. The chapel v;as lighted with candles, and 
 all the old women on the island had trudged from their 
 distant dwellings, staff in hand, backs bent with age, and 
 eyes dimmed by time. They crossed their breasts and 
 knelt before the tawdry images in the church, with so 
 much simplicity and apparent sincerity of heart, that 1 
 could not help exclaiming to myself, * Well, this is religion 
 after all.' 
 
 "The priest, named Brunet, was from Quebec, and 
 these islands belong to Lower Canada, but are under the 
 jurisdiction of the Bishop of Halifax. He is a shrewd- 
 looking fellow, and, if I do not mistake his character, 
 with a good deal of the devil in him. He told us there 
 were no reptiles on the island ; but we found by our own 
 observations that he was mistaken, as he was also in the 
 representations he made respecting the quadrupeds. This 
 
jio ' Life of Audubon, 
 
 priest, who I hope is a good and worthy man, told us that 
 the land is very poor and destitute of game, and that the 
 seal-fisheries were less profitable last year than common ; 
 that there are about one hundred and sixty families on a 
 dozen islands, and that cod, mackerel, and herring-fishing 
 were the employments of the inhabitants. One or two 
 vessels come from Quebec yearly to collect the produce 
 (of the sea). The priest said he led the life of a re- 
 cluse here, but if we would accompany him to his board- 
 ing-house he would give us a glass of good French wine. 
 
 " On our rambles we found the temperature on land 
 quite agreeable, and in sheltered situations the sun was 
 warm and pleasant. The grass looked well, and straw- 
 berry blossoms were plenty. The woods, such as they 
 were, were filled with warblers : the robin, thrush, finch, 
 bunting, &c. The fox-tailed sparrow and siskin breed 
 here, the hermit and tawny thrush crossed our path, the 
 black-capped warbler gambolled over the pools, and even 
 the wrens were everywhere. Of water-birds the great 
 terns were abundant, and the piping plovers breed here. 
 We also collected several species of land-snails, and 
 some specimens of gypsum. We crossed the bay in the 
 afternoon, and found a man who had some fox-skins for 
 sale : he asked five pounds apiece for the black fox, and 
 one dollar and fifty cents for the red skins. The woods 
 here are small, scrubby evergreens, almost impenetrable 
 and swampy beneath. Thermometer this evening 44°. 
 
 ^^yunel^. Day dawned with the weather dull, but 
 the wind fair, and we pulled up anchor and left the Mag- 
 dalene Islands for Labrador, the ultimatum of our present 
 desires. About ten o'clock we saw on the distant horizon 
 a speck, which I was told w^as the Rock ; the wind now 
 freshened, and I could soon see it plainly from the deck, 
 the top apparently covered with snow. Our pilot said 
 that the snow, which seemed two or three feet thick, was 
 
Gannets. 3 1 1 
 
 the white gannets which resort there. I rubbed my eyes, 
 and took my spy-glass, and instantly the strange picture 
 stood before me. They were indeed birds, and such a 
 mass of birds, and of such a size as I never saw before. 
 The wliole of my party were astonished, and all agreed 
 that it was worth a voyage across the Bay of Fundy and 
 the Gulf of St. Lawrence to see such a sight. The near- 
 er we approached, the greater was our surprise at the 
 enormous number of these birds, all calmly seated on 
 their eggs, and their heads turned to the windward towards 
 us. The air for a hundred yards above, and for a long 
 distance around, was filled with gannets on the wing, 
 which from our position made the air look as if it was 
 filled with falling snowflakes, and caused a thick, fogg}^- 
 like atmosphere all around the rock. The wind was too 
 high to allow us to land, but we were so anxious to do so 
 that some of the party made the attempt. The vessel 
 was brought to, and a small whale-boat launched, and 
 young Lincoln and John pushed off with clubs and 
 guns ; the wind increased and rain set in, but they gain- 
 ed the lee of the rock, but after an hour's absence re- 
 turned without landing. The air was filled with birds, 
 but they did not perceptibly diminish the numbers on the 
 rock. As the vessel drifted nearer the rock, we could see 
 that the birds sat so close as almost to touch one another 
 in regular lines, looking like so many mole-hills. The 
 discharge of a gun had no effect on those which were 
 not touched by the shot, for the noise of the birds stunned 
 all those out of reach of the gun. But where the shot 
 took effect the birds scrambled and flew off in such mul- 
 titudes and such confusion that, whilst eight or ten were 
 falling in the water dead or wounded, others shook 
 down their eggs, which fell into the sea by hundreds in all 
 directions. The sea became rougher, and the boat was 
 compelled to return, bringing some birds and some eggs. 
 
312 Life of Audubon, 
 
 but without the party being able to climb the rock. 
 
 " The top of the main rock is a quarter of a mile wide 
 
 from north to south, and a little narrower from east to 
 west ; its elevation above the sea is between three and 
 four hundred feet. The sea dashes around it with great 
 violence : except in long calms it is extremely difficult to 
 land on it, and much more difficult to climb to its plat- 
 form. The whole surface was perfectly covered with 
 nests, about two feet apart, in rov/s as regular as a potato 
 field. The fishermen kill these birds and use their flesh 
 for bait for cod-fish. The crews of several vessels unite, 
 and, armed with clubs, as they reach the top of the rock 
 the birds rise with a noise like thunder, and attempt to fly 
 in such hurried confusion as to knock each other down, 
 often piling one on another in a bank of many feet thick- 
 ness. The men beat and kill them until they have ob- 
 tained a supply, or wearied themselves. Six men in this 
 way have killed five or six hundred in one hour. The 
 birds are skinned and cut into junks, and the bait keeps 
 good for a fortnight. Forty sail of fishermen annually 
 supply themselves with bait from this rock in this way. 
 By the twentieth of May the birds lay their eggs, and 
 hatch about the twentieth of June. 
 
 " jtime 17. The wind is blowing a gale, and nearly 
 all my party is deadly sick. Thermometer 43°, and rain- 
 ing nearly all day. We laid to all night, and in the morn- 
 ing were in sight of Anticosti Island, distant about twenty 
 miles. It soon became thick, and we lost sight of it. 
 
 " June 1 8. The weather is calm, beautiful, and much 
 warmer. We caught many cod-fish, which contained 
 crabs of a curious structure. At six p. m. the wind 
 sprung up fair, and we made all sail for Labrador. 
 
 ^^ Jime I9. I was on deck at three o'clock a. ]m., and 
 although the sun was not above the horizon it was quite 
 light. The sea was literally covered with foolish guille- 
 
Natasquan River, 313 
 
 mots playing in the very spray under our bow, plunging 
 as if in fun under it, and rising like spirits close under 
 our rudder. The wind was fair, and the land in sight 
 ^rom aloft, and I now look forward to our landing on 
 Labrador as at hand, and my thoughts are filled with ex- 
 pectation of the new knowledge of birds and animals 
 which I hope to acquire there. The Ripley sails well, 
 but now she fairly skipped over the water. The cry of 
 land soon made my heart bound with joy ; and as we ap- 
 proached it we saw what looked like many sails of vessels, 
 but we soon found that they were snow-banks, and the 
 air along the shore was filled with millions of velvet 
 ducks and other aquatic birds, flying in long files a few 
 yards above the water. 
 
 " We saw one vessel at anchor, and the countr)^ looked 
 well from the distance ; and as we neared the shore the 
 thermometer rose from 44° to 60°, yet the appearance of 
 the snow-drifts w^as forbidding. The shores appeared to be 
 margined with a broad and handsome sand-beach, and 
 we saw imaginary bears, wolves and other animals scam- 
 pering away on the rugged shore. About thirty boats 
 were fishing, and we saw them throwing the fish on deck 
 by thousands. 
 
 " We soon reached the mouth of the Natasquan Riv- 
 er, where the Hudson Bay Company have a fishing estab- 
 lishment, and where no American vessel is allowed to 
 come. The shore was filled with bark-covered huts, and 
 some vessels w^ere anchored within the sand-point which 
 forms one side of the entrance to the river. We sailed 
 on four miles further to the American harbor, and came to 
 anchor in a beautiful bay, wholly secure from any winds. 
 " And now we are positively at Labrador, lat. 50°, and 
 farther north than I ever was before on this continent. 
 But what a country ! When we landed and reached the 
 summit we sank nearly up to our knees in mosses of dif- 
 14 
 
314 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 ferent sorts, producing such a sensation as I never felt 
 before. These mosses in the distance look like hard 
 rocks, but under the feet they feel like a velvet cushion. 
 We rambled about and searched in vain for a foot of square 
 earth ; a poor, rugged, and miserable country ; the trees 
 are wiry and scraggy dwarfs ; and when the land is not 
 rocky it is boggy to a man's waist. All the islands about 
 the harbor were of the same character, and we caw but 
 few land birds, one pigeon, a few hawks, and smaller 
 birds. The wild geese, eider-ducks, loons, and many 
 other birds breed here. 
 
 " June 19. The boats went off to neighboring islands 
 in search of birds and eggs, and I remained all day on 
 board drawing. Eggers from Halifax had robbed nearly 
 all the eggs. 
 
 "The eider-ducks build their nests under the scraggy 
 boughs of the fir-trees, which here grow only a few inches 
 above the ground. The nests are scraped a few inches 
 deep in the rotteii moss which makes the soil, and the 
 boughs have to be raised to find the nests. The eggs are 
 deposited in down, and covered with down, and keep 
 warm a long time in absence of the duck. They com- 
 monly lay six eggs. 
 
 " yune 20. The vessel rolls at her anchorage, and I 
 have drawn as well as I could. Our party has gone up 
 the Natasquan in search of adventures and birds. It 
 seems strange to me that in this wonderfully wild country 
 all the wild birds should be so shy. 
 
 " yune 21. To-day I went four miles to the falls of 
 the little Natasquan River. The river is small, its water 
 dark and irony, and its shores impenetrable woods, ex- 
 cept here and there a small interval overgrown with a 
 wir) ass, unfit for cattle^ and of no use if it were, for 
 there are no cattle here. We saw several nets in the 
 river for catching salmon ; they are stretched across the 
 
T!he Egg 1'rade. 315 
 
 river, and the fish entangle their fins in tr}'ing to pass 
 them, and cannot get away. We visited the huts of the 
 Canadian fishermen of the Hudson Bay Company. 
 They are clothed and fed, and receive eight dollars a 
 year besides, for their services. They have a cow, an ox, 
 and one acre of potatoes planted. They report seven 
 feet of snow in winter, and that only one-third as many 
 salmon are taken now as ten years ago ; one hundred 
 barrels now is regarded as a fair season. This river is 
 twelve miles long, has three rapids, is broad, swift, and 
 shallow, and discharges a quantity of fine gravelly sand. 
 
 '-'•June 22. Drew all day. Thermometer 60° at 
 twelve. "We are so far north that we have scarcely any 
 darkness at night. Our party visited some large ponds 
 on a neighboring island ; but they had neither fish, shells, 
 nor grass about them ; the shore a reddish sand : saw 
 only a few toads, and those pale-looking and poor. The 
 country a barren rock as far as the eye could reach, and 
 mosses of several species were a foot in depth. So so- 
 norous is the song of the fox-colored sparrow, that I 
 heard it to-day while drawing in the cabin ^ from the dis- 
 tance of a quarter of a mile. The mosquitoes and black 
 gnats are bad on shore. 
 
 ^'•June 23. We heard to-day that a part}' of four men 
 from Halifax, last spring, took in two months four hun- 
 dred thousand eggs, which they sold in Halifax at twenty 
 five cents a dozen. Last year upwards of twenty sail of 
 vessels were engaged in this business j and by this one 
 may form some idea of the number of birds annually de- 
 stroyed in this way, to say nothing of the millions of oth- 
 ers disposed of by the numerous fleet of fishermen which 
 yearly come to these regions, and lend their hand to 
 swell the devastation. The eggers destroy all the eggs 
 that are sat upon, to force the birds to lay fresh eggs, and 
 by robbing them regularly compel them to lay until na- 
 
3i6 
 
 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 ture is exhausted, and so but few young ones are raised. 
 These wonderful nursci.es must be finally destroyed, and 
 in less than half a century, unless some kind government 
 interposes to put a stop to all this shameful destruction 
 The wind blows here from the south-east, and it brings 
 rain continually." 
 
 The following episode epitomizes what Audubon saw 
 or learned about the men engaged in hunting eggs on 
 those wild and desolate islands. 
 
•^nSi 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Labrador Episodes : The Eggers of Labrador. 
 
 HE distinctive appellation of * eggers ' is given 
 to certain persons who follow principally or ex- 
 clusively the avocation of procuring eggs of wild 
 birds, with the view of disposing of them at some distant 
 port. Their great object is to plunder every nest, when- 
 ever they can find it, no matter where, and at whatever 
 risk. They ai^e the pest of the feathered tribes, and their 
 brutal propensit}^ to destroy the poor creatures after they 
 have robbed them is abundantly gratified whenever an 
 opportunity presents itself Much had been said to me 
 respecting these destructive pirates before I visited the 
 coast of Labrador, but I could not entirely credit al 
 their cruelties until I had actually witnessed their pro 
 ceedings, which were such as to inspire no small degree 
 of horror. But you shall judge for yourself. 
 
 " See yon shallop shyly sailing along ; she sneaks like 
 a thief, wishing, as it were, to shun the very light of 
 heaven. Under the lee of every rocky isle some one at 
 the tiller steers her course. 
 
 " Were his trade an honest one he would not think of 
 hiding his back behind the terrific rocks that seem to 
 ha^ e been placed there as a resort to the myriads of birds 
 that annually visit this desolate region of the earth for 
 the purpose of rearing their young at a distance from alj 
 disturbers of their peace. How unlike the open, bold, 
 the honest mariner, whose face needs no mask, who 
 scorns to skulk under any circumstances ! The vessel 
 herself is a shabby thing; her sails are patched with 
 stolen pieces of better canvas, the owners of which have 
 
3 1 8 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 probably been stranded on some inhospitable coast, and 
 have been plundered, perhaps murdered, by the wretches 
 before us. Look at her again. Her sides are neither 
 painted nor even pitched ; no, they are daubed over, 
 plastered and patched with stripes of seal-skins, laid 
 along the seams. Her deck has never been washed or 
 sanded, her hold, for she has no cabin, though at present 
 empty, sends forth an odor pestilential as that of a char- 
 nel-house. The crew, eight in number, lie sleeping at 
 the foot of their tottering mast, regardless of the repairs 
 needed in every part of her rigging. But see 1 she scuds 
 along, and, as I suspect her crew to be bent on the com- 
 mission of some evil deed, let us follow l^er to the first 
 harbor. There rides the filthy thing ! The afternoon is 
 half over. Her crew have thrown their boat overboard ; 
 they enter and seat themselves, one with a rusty gun. 
 One of them sculls the skiff towards an island, for a cen- 
 tury past the breeding-place of myriads of guillemots, 
 which are now to be laid under contribution. At the ap- 
 proach of the vile thieves, clouds of birds rise from the 
 rock and fill the air around, wheeling and screaming 
 over their enemies ; yet thousands remain in an erect 
 posture, each covering its single ^gg^ the hope of both 
 parents. The reports of several muskets loaded with 
 heavy shot are now heard, while several dead and wound- 
 ed birds fall heavily on the rock or into the water. In- 
 stantly all the sitting birds rise and fly off affrighted to 
 their companions above, and hover in dismay over their 
 assassins, who walk forward exultingly, and with their 
 shouts mingling oaths and execrations. Look at iheni ! 
 See how they crush the chick within its shell ! how they 
 trample on every ^gg in their way with their huge and 
 clumsy boots ! Onwards they go, and when they leave 
 the isle not an (tgg that they can find is left entire. The 
 dead birds they collect and carry to their boat. Now 
 
^he Eggers of Labrador. 319 
 
 they have regained their filthy shallop, they strip the 
 birds by a single jerk of their feathery apparel, while the 
 flesh is yet warm, and throw them on some coals, where 
 in a short time they are broiled : the rum is produced 
 when the guillemots are fit for eating, and after stuffing 
 themselves with this oily fare, and enjoying the pleas- 
 ures of beastly intoxication, over they tumble on the 
 deck of their crazed craft, where they pass the short 
 hours of night in turbid slumber. The sun now rises 
 above the snow-clad summit of the eastern mount ; 
 ' sweet is the breath of morn,' even in this desolate land. 
 The gay bunting erects his white crest, and gives utter- 
 ance to the joy he feels in the presence of his brooding 
 mate ; the willow grouse on the rock crows his challenge 
 aloud ; each floweret, chilled by the night air, expands 
 its pure petals ; the gentle breeze shakes from the blades 
 of grass the heavy dewdrops. On the Guillemot Isle the 
 birds have again settled, and nov; renew their loves. 
 Startled by the light of day, one of the eggers springs on 
 his feet, and rouses his companions, who stare around 
 them for awhile, endeavoring to recollect their senses. 
 Mark them, as with clumsy fingers they clear their 
 drowsy eyes ; slowly they rise on their feet. See how 
 the lubbers stretch out their arms and yawn ; you shrink 
 back, for verily * that throat might frighten a shark.' But 
 the master, soon recollecting that so many eggs are 
 worth a dollar or a crown, casts his eye towards the rock, 
 marks the day in his memor}-, and gives orders to depart. 
 The light breeze enables them to reach another harbor, 
 a few miles distant ; one which, like the last, lies con 
 cealed from the ocean by some other rocky isle. Ar- 
 rived there, they react the scene of yesterday, crushing 
 every egg they can find. For a week each night is pass- 
 ed in drunkenness and brawls, until, having reached the 
 last breeding place on the coast, they return, touch at 
 
320 Life of Audubon. 
 
 every isle in succession, shoot as many birds as they 
 need, collect the fresh eggs, and lay in a cargo. At 
 every step each ruffian picks up an ^gg^ so beautiful that 
 any man with a feeling heart would pause to consider the 
 motive which could induce him to carry it off. But noth- 
 ing of this sort occurs to the egger, who gathers and 
 gathers until he has swept the rock bare. The dollars 
 alone chink in his sordid mind, and he assiduously plies 
 the trade which no man would ply who had the talents 
 and industry to procure subsistence by honorable means. 
 With a bark nearly filled with fresh eggs they proceed to 
 the principal rock, that on which they first landed. But 
 what is their surprise when they find others there helping 
 themselves as industriously as they can ! In boiling rage 
 they charge their guns, and ply their oars. Landing on 
 the rock, <^hey run up to the eggers, who, like themselves, 
 are desperadoes. The first question is a discharge of 
 musketry ; the answer another : now, man to man, they 
 fight like tigers. One is carried to his craft with a frac- 
 tured skull, another limps with a shot in his leg, and a 
 tliird feels how many of his teeth have been driven 
 through the hole in his cheek. At last, however, the 
 quarrel is settled, the booty is to be equally divided ; and 
 now see them all drinking together. Oaths and curses 
 and filthy jokes are all that you hear ; but see ! stuffed 
 with food, and reeling with drink, down they drop, one 
 by one ; groans and execrations from the wounded mingle 
 with the snorings of the heavy sleepers. There let the 
 brutes lie ! Again it is dawn, but no one stirs. The sur 
 is high \ one by one they open their heavy eyes, stretch 
 their limbs, yawn and raise themselves from the deck. 
 But see a goodly company. A hundred honest fisher- 
 men, who for months past have fed on salt meat, have 
 felt a desire to procure some eggs. Gallantly their boats 
 advance, impelled by the regular pull of their long oars. 
 
Fishermeris parrels, 321 
 
 Each buoyant bark displays the flag of its- nation. No 
 weapon do they bring, nor anything that can be used as 
 such, save their oars and fists. Cleanly clad in Sunday 
 attire, they arrive at the desired spot, and at once pre- 
 pare to ascend the rock. The eggers, now numbering a 
 dozen, all armed with guns and bludgeons, bid defiance 
 to the fishermen. A few angry words pass between the 
 parties. One of the eggers, still under the influence of 
 drink, pulls his trigger, and an unfortunate sailor is seen 
 to reel in agony. Three loud cheers fill the air. All at 
 once rush on the malefactors : a horrid fight ensues, the 
 result of which is that every egger is left on the rock 
 beaten and bruised. Too frequently the fishermen man 
 their boats, row to the shallops, and break every egg in 
 the hold. The eggers of Labrador not only rob the 
 birds in this cruel manner, but also the fishermen, when- 
 ever they can find an opportunity ; and the quarrels they 
 excite are numberless. While we were on the coast none 
 of our party ever ventured on any of the islands, which 
 these WTetches call their own, without being well pro- 
 vided with means of defence. On one occasion when I 
 was present we found two eggers at their \vork of destruc- 
 tion. I spoke to them respecting my visit, and offered 
 them premiums for rare birds and some of their eggs ; 
 but although they made fair promises, not one of the gang 
 ever came near the Ripley. These people gather all the 
 eider-down they can find, yet, so inconsiderate are they, 
 that they kill every bird that comes in their w^ay. The 
 puffins and some other birds they massacre in vast num- 
 bers for the sake of their feathers. The eggs of gulls, 
 guillemots, and ducks are searched for with care also. 
 So constant and persevering are their depredations, that 
 these species, which, according to the accounts of the 
 few settlers I saw in the countr)', w^ere exceedingly abun- 
 dant twenty years ago, have abandoned their ancient 
 11* 
 
322 Life of Audubon, 
 
 breeding-places, and removed much farther north, in 
 search of peaceful Gecurit}\ Scarcely, in fact, could I 
 procure a young guillemot before the eggers had left the 
 coast, nor wa^ it until late in July that I succeeded, after 
 the birds had laid three or four eggs each instead of one, 
 and when nature having been exhausted, and the season 
 nearly spent, thousands of these birds left the country 
 without having accomplished the purpose for which they 
 had visited it. This war of extermination cannot last 
 many years more. The eggers themselves will be the 
 first to repent the entire disappearance of the myriads of 
 birds that made the coast of Labrador their summer resi- 
 dence, and unless they follow the persecuted tribes to the 
 northward they must renounce their trade." 
 
 
CHAPTER XXIX, 
 
 Notes in Labrador — Indians — Civilities on Board the Quebec Cutter — 
 The Fur Company — Severe Weather — Winds and Rain — Excur- 
 sions on Shore — Hut of a Labrador Seal-Catcher — Great Maca- 
 tine Islands — Officers' Bivouac Ashore^ 
 
 UNE 23. We met here two large boats loaded 
 with Mountaineer Indians, about twenty, old 
 and young, male and female. Thp boats had 
 small canoes lashed to their sides, like whale boats, for 
 seal fishing. The men were stout and good-looking, and 
 spoke tolerable French ; their skins were redder and 
 clearer than any other Indians I have ever seen. The 
 women also appeared cleaner than usual, their hair was 
 braided, and dangled over their shoulders, like so many 
 short ropes. They w^ere all dressed in European cos- 
 tumes except their feet, on which coarse moccasins made 
 of seal skin supplied the place of shoes. 
 
 " On leaving the harbor this morning, we saw a black 
 man-of-war-like looking vessel entering it, bearing the 
 English flag ; it proved to be the Quebec cutter. I 
 wrote a note to the commander, sent him my card, and 
 requested an interview. He proved to be Captain Bay- 
 field of the Royal Navy, the vessel was the Gulnare, and 
 he replied that he would receive me in two hours. After 
 dinner, taking some credentials in my pocket, I went 
 aboard of the Gulnare, was politely received^ and intro- 
 duced to the surgeon, who seemed a man of ability, and 
 is a student of botany and conchology. Thus the lovers 
 of nature meet everywhere, but surely I did not expect to 
 
324 Life of Audubon, 
 
 meet a naturalist on the Labrador station. The first 
 lieutenant is a student of ornithology', and is making col- 
 lections. I showed a letter from the Duke of Sussex to 
 the captain, and after a pleasant hour, and a promise 
 from him to do anything in his power to aid us, I return- 
 ed to our vessel. 
 
 " June 24. It was our intention to leave this harbor 
 to-day for one fifty miles east, but the wind is ahead, and 
 I have drawn all day. Shattuck and I took a walk over 
 the dreary hills towards evening, and we found several 
 flowers in bloom, among which was a small species of 
 the Kulnua Glauca. We visited the camp of the Moun- 
 taineer Indians about half a mile from us, and found 
 them skinning seals, and preparing their flesh for use. 
 We saw a robe the size of a good blanket made of seal 
 skin, and tanned so soft and beautiful with the hair on, 
 that it was as pleasant to the touch as a fine kid glove. 
 They refused to sell it. The chief of this party is well 
 informed, talks French so as to be understood, is a fine- 
 looking fellow, about forty years old, and has a good- 
 looking wife and baby. His brother also is married, and 
 has several sons between fourteen and twenty. The 
 whole group consists of about twenty persons. They 
 came and saluted us soon after we landed, and to my as- 
 tonishment offered us a glass of rum. The women were 
 all seated outside of their tents, unpacking bundles of 
 clothing and provisions. We entered one tent, and seat- 
 ed ourselves before a blazing fire, the smoke of which 
 escaped through the top of the apartment. To the many 
 questions I put to the chief and his brother, the following 
 is the substance of his answers. 
 
 " The country from this place to the nearest settle- 
 ment of the Hudson Bay Company is as barren and 
 rocky as this about us. Very large lakes of water abound 
 two hundred miles inland from the sea : tiiese lakes con- 
 
Extermination of Animals. 325 
 
 tain carp, trout, white fish, and many mussels unfit to 
 aat ; the latter arc described as black outside and purplcr* 
 within, and are no doubt 'unios.' Not a bush is to be 
 met with ; and the Indians who now and then cross that 
 region carry their tent-poles with them, and also their 
 canoes, and burn moss for fiiel. So tedious is the trav- 
 elling said to be, that not more than ten miles a day can 
 be accomplished, and when the journey is made in two 
 months, it is considered a good one. Wolves and black 
 bears abound, but no deer nor caraboos are seen, and 
 not a bird of any kind except wild geese and brants 
 about the lakes, where they breed. AVhen the journey is 
 undertaken in winter, they go on snow shoes, without 
 canoes. Fur animals are scarce, but a few beavers and 
 otters, martins and sables, are caught, and some foxes and 
 lynxes, while their numbers yearly diminish. Thus the 
 Fur Company may be called the exterminating medium 
 of these wild and almost uninhabitable regions, which cu- 
 pidity or the love of money alone would induce man to 
 venture into. Where can I now go and find nature un- 
 disturbed ? 
 
 " yune 25. Drawing all day until five o'clock, when 
 I went to dine on board the Gulnare ; quite a bore to 
 shave and dress in Labrador. The company consisted 
 of the captain, doctor, and three other officers ; we had a 
 good sea dinner, cod and mutton, good wine and some 
 excellent snuff, of which I took a pinch or two. Conver- 
 sation turned on Botany, politics, and the Established 
 Church of England, and ranged away to hatching eggs 
 by steam. I saw the maps the officers are making of 
 tlie coast, and was struck with the great accuracy of the 
 shape of our perfect harbor. I returned to our vessel at 
 ten in the evening ; the weather is warm, and the mos- 
 quitoes abundant and hungry. 
 
 ^^ J^u?ie 26. We have now been waiting five days for 
 
326 Life of Auduhon, . 
 
 a fair wind to take us eastward in our explorations. The 
 waters of all the streams we have seen are of a rusty col- 
 or, probably derived from the decomposing mosses which 
 form the soil on the rocks. The rivers seem to be the 
 drain from swamps fed by rain and melting snow ; the 
 soil in the low grounds is of quite a peaty nature. The 
 freshets take down sand and gravel from the decom- 
 posed rocks, and form bars at the mouths of all the 
 rivers. Below the mouth of each stream is the best fish- 
 ing ground for cod fish. They accumulate there to feed 
 on the fry which run into the rivers to deposit their spawn, 
 and which they follow again to sea, when they return to 
 strike out into deep water. 
 
 " It is quite remarkable how shy the agents of the 
 Fur Company here are of strangers. They refused to 
 sell me a salmon : and one of them told me he would be 
 discharged if it were known he had done so. They 
 evade all questions respecting the interior of the country, 
 and indeed tell the most absurd things, to shock you, and 
 cut short inquiries. This is probably to prevent stran- 
 gers from settling here, or interfering with their monop- 
 oly. " 
 
 Much of the journal of these dates in Labrador is 
 taken up with an account of the birds, and nests, and 
 eggs found here, and matters relating to ornithology. 
 But as these notes were used by Mr. Audubon in compi- 
 ling his " Biographies of the Birds," we have omitted 
 them here, and used only that part of the records which 
 have a more general interest. 
 
 " y^une 27. The morning dawned above rain and fogs, 
 which so enveloped us below that we could scarcely dis- 
 cern the shore, distant only a hundred yards. Drawing 
 all day. 
 
 " y^ime 28. The weather shocking, rainy, foggy, dark, 
 and cold. Began drawing a new finch I discovered, and 
 
At Sea, 327 
 
 outlined another. At twelve the wind suddenly changed, 
 and caused such a swell and rolling of the vessel, that I 
 had to give up my drawing. After dinner the wind 
 hauled to the south-west, and all was bustle, heaving up 
 anchor, loosing sails, and getting ready for sea. We 
 were soon under weight and went out of the harbor in 
 good style ; but the sea was high, and we were glad to go 
 to our beds. 
 
 " yune 29. At three o'clock this morning we were 
 about fifteen miles from land, and fifty fi'om American 
 Harbor. The thermometer was 54°, and the wind light 
 and favorable ; at ten the breeze freshened, but our pilot 
 did not know the land, and the captain had to find a har- 
 bor for himself. We passed near an island covered with 
 foolish guillemots, and came to for the purpose of landing 
 on it, which we did through a great surf; there we found 
 two eggers searching the rocks for eggs. They told us 
 they visited all the islands in the vicinity, and obtained 
 fresh eggs every day. They had eight hundred dozen, 
 and expected to increase them to two thousand dozen 
 before they returned to Halifax. The quantities of bro- 
 ken eggs on this and all the islands where eggs are 
 obtained, causes a stench which is scarcely endurable. 
 From this island we w^ent to another about a mile distant, 
 and caught many birds and collected many eggs. 
 
 " yune 30. I have drawn three birds to-day since eight 
 o'clock. Thermometer 50°. 
 
 " yitiy I. The thermometer 48^, and the weather so 
 cold that it has been painful for me to draw, but I worked 
 all day. 
 
 " yuly 2. A beautiful day for Labrador. Went ashore 
 and killed nothing, but was pleased with what I saw. 
 The country is so grandly wild and desolate, that I am 
 charmed by its wonderful dreariness. Its mossy gray- 
 clad rocks, heaped and throw^n together in huge masses, 
 
328 Life of Audubon. 
 
 hanging on smaller ones, as if about to roll down from 
 their insecure resting-places into the sea below them. 
 Bays without end, sprinkled with thousands of rocky 
 inlets of all sizes, shapes, and appearances, and wild 
 birds ever}'where, was the scene presented before me. 
 Besides this there was a peculiar cast of the uncertain 
 sky, butterflies flitting over snow-banks, and probing un- 
 folding dwarf flowerets of many hues pushing out their 
 tender stems through the thick beds of moss which every- 
 where covers the granite rock. Then there is the morass, 
 wherein you plunge up to your knees, or the walking over 
 the stubborn, dwarfish shrubbeiy, whereby one treads 
 down the forests of Labrador ; and the unexpected bunt- 
 ing or Sylvia which perchance, and indeed as if by chance 
 alone, you now and then see flying before you, or hear 
 singing from the ground creeping plant. The beautiful 
 fresh-water lakes, deposited on the rugged crests of great- 
 ly elevated islands, wherein the red and black divers 
 swim as proudly as swans do in other latitudes ; and 
 wherein the fish appear to have been cast as strayed be- 
 ings from the surplus food of the sea. All, all is wonder- 
 fully wild and grand, ay, terrific. And yet how beautiful 
 it is now, when your eye sees the wild bee, moving from 
 one flower to another in search of food, which doubtless 
 is as sweet to her as the essence of the orange and mag- 
 nolia is to her more favored sister in Louisiana. The 
 little ring-plover rearing its delicate and tender young ; 
 the eider duck swimming man-of-war-like amid her float- 
 ing brood, like the guard-ship of a most valuable convoy ; 
 the white-crowned bunting's sonorous note reaching your 
 ears ever and anon ; the crowds of sea-birds in search of 
 places wherein to repose or to feed. I say how beautiful 
 all this, in this wonderful rocky desert at this season, the 
 beginning of July, compared with the horrid blasts of 
 winter which here predominate by the will of God ; when 
 
Rough Weather^ 329 
 
 every rock is hidden beneath snow so deep, that every 
 :5tep the traveller takes, he is in danger of falling in his 
 grave ; while avalanches threaten him from above, and if 
 he lifts his eyes to the horizon, he sees nothing but dark 
 clouds filled with frost and snow, and inspiring him with 
 a feeling of despair. 
 
 " y^^y 3* We have had a stiff easterly wind all day, 
 rainy, and the water so rough we could not go ashore, for 
 plants to draw, until late in the afternoon. The view of 
 the sea from the highest rocks was grand, the small islands 
 were covered with the foam and surf thrown up by the 
 agitated ocean. Thank God that we are not tossing on 
 its billows. 
 
 " July 4. Two parties went out to-day to get birds and 
 plants, and I remained on board all day drawing. Cap- 
 tain Bayfield sent us a quarter of mutton for our fourth 
 of July dinner, and I dare say it is a rarity on this coast 
 of Labrador, even on this day. 
 
 " yuly 5. Thermometer 50^. I drew from four o'clock 
 this morning until three this afternoon, and then went on 
 an expedition for a few miles to a large rough island, 
 which I traversed until I was weary, for walking on this 
 spongy moss of Labrador is a task no one can imagine 
 without tr}ing it ; at every step the foot sinks in a deep 
 moss cushion, which closes over it, and requires consid- 
 erable exertion to draw it up. When the moss is over a 
 marshy tract, then you sink a couple of feet deep every 
 step you take, and to reach a bare rock is delightful, and 
 quite a relief. This afternoon the country'' looked more 
 terrifyingly wild than ever, the dark clouds throwing their 
 shadows on the stupendous masses of rugged rocks, pre- 
 sented one of the wildest pictures of nature that the eye 
 can find to look on an^'where. 
 
 " ytt^y 6. Thermometer 48°. At noon my fingers 
 j\'ere so cnM that I could no longer hold my pencil to 
 
230 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 draw, and I was compelled to go on shore for exercise. 
 The fact is I am growing old too fast, alas ! I feel it, and 
 yet work I will, and may God grant me life to see the last 
 plate of my mammoth work finished. 
 
 " July 7. Drawing all day ; finished the female groijse 
 and five young ones, and preparing the male bird. 
 
 " y^iiy 8. Rainy, dirty weather, wind east, thermome- 
 ter 48^. Began drawing at half-past three a.m, but my 
 condition very disagreeable in such weather. The fog 
 collects and falls in large drops from the rigging on my 
 table, and now and then I am obliged to close the sky- 
 light, and work almost in darkness. Notwithstanding, I 
 have finished my plate of the cock ptarmigan. 
 
 " July 9. The wind east, wet, disagreeable, and foggy. 
 This is the most wonderful climate in the world ; the 
 thermometer 52°, mosquitoes in profusion, plants bloom- 
 ing by millions, and at every step you tread on flowers 
 such as would be looked on in more temperate climates 
 with pleasure. I only wish I could describe plants as 
 well as I can the habits of birds. I have drawn all day 
 on the loon, a most difficult bird to imitate. 
 
 " y?//y 10. Thermometer 54°. Could I describe one 
 of those dismal gales which blow ever and anon over this 
 dismal country, it would probably be interesting to any 
 one unacquainted with the inclemency of this climate. 
 Nowhere else are the north-east blasts, which sweep over 
 Labrador, felt as they are here. But I cannot describe 
 them. All I can say is, that while we are safe in a land- 
 locked harbor, their effects on our vessel are so strong, 
 that they will not allow me to draw, and sometimes send 
 some of us to our beds. And what the force of these 
 horrid blasts outside of the harbor at sea is I can hardly 
 imagine ; but it seems as if it would be impossible for any 
 vessel to ride safely before them, and that they will rend 
 these rocky islands asunder. The rain is driven in sheets, 
 
Effects of the Storm, 331 
 
 and falls with difficulty upon its destination of sea or land. 
 Na}^ I cannot call it rain, as it is such a thick cloud of 
 water, that all objects at a distance are lost sight of at 
 intervals of three or four minutes, and the waters around 
 us come up and beat about in our rock-bound harbor, as 
 a newly caught and caged bird beats against the wire 
 walls of his prison cage. 
 
 ^^ July II. The gale or hurricane of yesterday subsi- 
 ded about midnight, and at sunrise this morning the sky 
 was clear and the horizon fiery red. It was my inten- 
 tion to have gone one hundred miles further north, but 
 our captain says I must be content here. 
 
 "On rambling over the numerous bays and inlets, 
 which are scattered by thousands along this coast, as 
 pebbles are on a common sand beach, one sees immense 
 beds of round stones (boulders ?) of all sizes, and sr ne 
 of large dimensions, rolled side by side, and piled up in 
 heaps, as if cast there by some great revolution of nature. 
 I have seen many such places, and always look on them 
 with astonishment, because they seem to have been vom- 
 ited up by the sea, and cast hundreds of yards inland, by 
 its powerful retchings ; and this gives some idea of what 
 a hurricane at Labrador can do. 
 
 " yuly 12. Thermometer 48°, and it is raining hard, 
 and blowing another gale from the east, and the vessel 
 rocks so much that I am unable to finish my drawing. 
 
 " y^^^y 13- Rose this morning at half-past three, and 
 found the wind north-east, and but little of it. The 
 weather is cloudy and dull, as it is always here after a 
 storm. I was anxious to stay on board, and finish the 
 drawing of a grouse I had promised to Dr. Kelly of the 
 Gulnare. But at seven the wind changed, and we pre- 
 pared to leaVe our fine harbor. We beat out to sea, and 
 made our course for the harbor of Little Macatine, dis- 
 tant forty-three miles. By noon the wind died away, but 
 
22^2. Life of Auduhon, 
 
 the sea rolled, and we were all sea-sick, and glad to go to 
 our berths. -■ - 
 
 - . *' jfuly 14. Awoke this morning to find a cold north- 
 east wind blowing, and ourselves twenty miles firom our 
 destination, a hea\y sea beating against the vessel's bows, 
 as she is slowly beating tack after tack against the wind. 
 We are in despair of reaching our destination to-day. 
 Towards evening however the wind favored us, and as we 
 approached the island, it proved the highest land we have 
 seen, and looked rugged and horrid. • .. . . 
 
 "When we came within a milt and ahalf of the shore 
 we took a small boat, and pushed off for the land. As 
 we came near it, the rocks appeared stupendously high 
 and rough, and frowned down on our little boat, as we 
 moved along and doubled the little cape which made one 
 side of the entrance^ of Macatine's Harbor, but it looked 
 so small to me, that I doubted if it were the place ; and 
 the shores were horribly wild, fearfully high and rough, 
 and nothing but the croaking of a pair of ravens was 
 heard mingling with the dismal sound of the surge which 
 dashed on the rocky ledges, and sent the foaming water 
 into the air. 
 
 " By the time we reached the shore the wind began to 
 freshen, the Ripley's sails now swelled, and she cut her 
 way through the water, and rounded the point of land 
 which formed part of tlie harbor, and shot ahead towards 
 the place where we were standing. Our harbor repre- 
 sents the bottom of a large bowl, in the centre of which 
 our vessel is anchored, surrounded by rocks full a thou- 
 sand feet high, and the wildest looking place I was ever 
 in. We went aboard, ate a hasty supper, and all scam- 
 pered ashore again, and climbed the nearest hills. But 
 John, Shattuck, and myself went up the harbor, and as- 
 cended to the top of a mountain (for I cannot call it a 
 hill), and there we saw the crest of the island beneath our 
 
Macatine Harbor. 233 
 
 feet, all rocks, barren, bare rocks, wild as the wildest 
 Apennines. The moss was only a few inches deep, and 
 the soil beneath it so moist, that whenever the declivities 
 were much inclined, the whole slipped from under us like 
 an avalanche, and down we would slide for feet, and 
 sometimes yards. The labor of climbing was excessive, 
 and at the bottom of each ravine the scrub bushes inter- 
 cepted us for twenty or thirty paces, and we scrambled 
 over them with great effort and fatigue. On our return 
 we made one slide of forty or fifty feet, and brought up 
 in a little valley or pit filled with moss and mire. 
 
 '■^July 15. We rose and breakfasted at three o'clock, 
 every one being eager to go ashore and explore this wild 
 country. But the wind was east, and the prospects of 
 fine weather not good. But two boats' crews of young 
 men rowed off in different directions, while I renewed my 
 drawing. By ttn the rain poured^ and tke boats returned. 
 
 ''''July 16. Another day of dirty weather, and obliged 
 to remain on board nearly all the day. Thermometer 
 52°, mosquitoes plent}\ This evening the fog is so thick, 
 that we cannot see the summit of the rocks around us. 
 
 " July 17. Mosquitoes so annoyed me last night that 
 I did not close my eyes. I tried the deck of the vessel, 
 and although the fog was as thick as fine rain, the air was 
 filled with these insects, and I went below and fought 
 them until daylight, when I had a roaring fire made and 
 got rid of them. I have been drawing part of the day, 
 and besides several birds, I have outlined one of the 
 mountainous hills near our vessel, as a back-ground to my 
 willow grouse. 
 
 : " July 18. After breakfast, all hands except the cook 
 left the Ripley, in three boats, to visit the main shore, 
 about five miles off. The fog was thick, but the wind 
 promised fair weather, and soon fulfilled its promise. 
 Directly after landing our party found a large extent of 
 
334 Life of Audulon. 
 
 marsh land, the first we have seen in this country ; the 
 soil was wet, our feet sank in it, and walking was tire- 
 some. We also crossed a large savannah of many miles 
 in extent. Its mosses were so wet and spongy, that I 
 never in my life before experienced so much difficult}^ in 
 travelling. In many places the soil appeared to wave 
 and bend under us like old ice in the spring of the year, 
 and we expected at each step to break through the sur- 
 face, and sink into the mire below. In the middle of this 
 quagmire we met with a fine small grove of good-sized 
 white birch trees, and a few pines full forty feet high, 
 quite a novelty in this locality. 
 
 " From the top of a high rock I obtained a good view 
 of the most extensive and dreary wilderness I ever be- 
 held. It chilled t^e ^eart to gaze on these barrens of 
 Labrador. Indeed I now dread every change of harbor, 
 so horridly rugged and dangerous is the whole coast and 
 country to the eye, and to the experienced man either of 
 the sea or the land. Mosquitoes, many species of horse- 
 flies, small bees, and black gnats fill the air. The frogs 
 croaked, and yet the thermometer was not above 55^. 
 This is one of the real wonders of this extraordinary 
 countr}\ The parties in the boats, hunting all day, 
 brought back but nineteen birds, and we all concluded 
 that no one man could provide food for himself here from 
 the land alone. 
 
 " July 19. Cold, wet, blowing, and too much motion 
 of the vessel for drawing. In the evening it cleared up 
 a little, and I went ashore, and visited the hut of a seal- 
 fisher. We climbed over one rocky precipice and fissure 
 after another, holding on to the moss with both hands 
 and feet, for about a mile, when we came to the deserted 
 hut of a Labrador seal-catcher. It looked snug outside, 
 and we walked in ; it was floored with short slabs, all 
 very well greased with seal oil. A fire-oven without a 
 
One Fine Day. 335 
 
 pipe, a salt-box hung to a wooden peg, a three-legged 
 stool for a table, and wooden box for a bedstead, were all 
 its furniture. An old flour-barrel, containing some hun- 
 dreds of seine floats, and an old seal seine, comprised 
 the assets of goods and chattels. Three small windows, 
 with four panes of glass each, were still in pretty good 
 order, and so was the low door, which swung on wooden 
 hinges, for which I will be bound the maker had asked 
 for no patent. The cabin was made of hewn logs, 
 brought from the mainland, about twelve feet square, and 
 well put together. It was roofed with birch bark and 
 spruce, well thatched with moss a foot thick; every 
 chink was crammed with moss, and every aperture render- 
 ed air-tight with oakum. But it was deserted and aban- 
 doned. The seals are all caught, and the sailors have 
 nothirlg to do iiow-a-da-ys. We foutid a pile of good hard 
 wood close to the cabin, and this we hope to appro- 
 priate to-morrow. I found out that the place had been 
 inhabited by two Canadians, by the chalk marks on the 
 walls, and their almanac on one of the logs ran thus : L 
 24, M 25, M 26, I 27, V 28, S 29, D 3o, giving the first 
 letter of the day of the week. On returning to the ves- 
 sel, I stopped several times to look on the raging waves 
 rolling in upon the precipitous rocks below us, and thought 
 how dreadful it would be for any one to be wTecked on 
 this inhospitable shore. The surges of surf which rolled 
 in on the rocks were forty or fifty feet high where they 
 dashed on the precipices beneath us, and any vessel cast 
 ashore there must have been immediately dashed to 
 pieces. 
 
 ^^Jiily 20. The country of Labrador deserves credit for 
 one fine day. This has been, until evening, calm, warm, 
 and really such a day as one might expect in the Middle 
 States about the middle of May. I drew until ten 
 o'clock, and then made a trip to the island next to us, 
 
2;}6 Life of Audubon, 
 
 and shot several birds. We passed several small bays, 
 where we found vast quantities of stones thrown up by 
 the sea, and some of them of enormous size. I now 
 think that these stones are brought from the sea on the 
 thick drift ice, or icebergs, which come down from the 
 arctic regions, and are driven in here and broken by the 
 jagged rocks j they are stranded, and melt, and leave 
 these enormous pebbles in layers from ten to one hundred 
 feet deep. 
 
 "y/z/v 21. I write now from a harbor which has no 
 name, for we have mistaken it for the one we were look- 
 ing for, which lies two miles east of this. But it matters 
 little, for the coast of Labrador is all alike, comfortless, 
 cold, and foggy. We left the Little Macatine this morning 
 at five o'clock, with a stiff south-west breeze, and by ten 
 dropped anchor where we now are. As we doubled the 
 cape of the island called Great Macatine, we had the 
 pleasure of meeting the officers of the Gulnare, in two 
 boats, engaged in surveying the coast. We made an ex- 
 cursion into the island, but found nothing of interest. 
 
 " In the evening w^e visited the officers of tiie Gulnare, 
 encamped in tents on shore, living in great comfort ; the 
 tea-things were yet on the iron bedstead which served as 
 a table, the trunks formed their seats, and tlie clothes- 
 bags their cushions and pillows. Their tent was made 
 of tarred cloth, which admitted neither wind nor rain. It 
 was a comfortable camp, and we w^ere pleased to find 
 ourselves on the coast of Labrador in company with in- 
 telligent officers of the royal navy of England, gentlemen 
 of education and refined manners ; it w^as indeed a treat, 
 a precious one. We talked of the wild country around 
 us, and of the enormous destruction of everything which 
 is going on here, except of the rocks ; of the aborigines, 
 who are melting away before the encroachments of a 
 stronger race, as the wild animals are disappearing before 
 
Whale Fishers. 337 
 
 them. Some one said, it is rum which is destroying the 
 poor Indians. I replied, I think noc, they are disappear- 
 ing here from insufficiency of food and physical comforts, 
 and the loss of all hope, as he loses sight of all that was 
 abundant before the white man came, intruded on his 
 land, and his herds of wild animals, and deprived him of 
 the furs with which he clothed himself. Nature herself 
 is perishing. Labrador must shortly be depopulated, not 
 only of lier aboriginal men, but of every thing and ani- 
 mal which has life, and attracts the cupidity of men. 
 When her fish, and game, and birds are gone, she will be 
 left alone like an old worn-out field." 
 
 " July 22. This morning Captain Bayfield and his 
 officers came alongside to bid us good-bye, to pursue their 
 labors further westward. After breakfast we manned 
 three boats, and went to explore a small harbor about 
 one mile east of our anchorage. There we found a whal- 
 ing schooner, fifty-five tons burthen, from Cape Gaspe. 
 AVe found the men employed in boiling blubber in a large 
 iron vessel like a sugar-boiler. The blubber lay in heaps 
 on the shore, in junks of six or eight pounds each, look- 
 ing filthy enough. The captain or owner of the vessel 
 appeared to be a good sensible man of his class, and cut 
 off for me some strips of the w^hale's skin from under the 
 throat, with large and curious barnacles attached to the 
 skin. They had struck four whales, and three had sunk, 
 and were lost to them. This, the men said, was a very 
 rare occurrence. We found, also, at this place, a French 
 Canadian seal-catcher, from whom I gathered the follow- 
 ing information. 
 
 " This portion of Labrador is free to any one to settle 
 on, and he and another person had erected a cabin, and 
 had nets and traps to catch seals and foxes, and guns to 
 shoot bears and wolves. They take their quarry to Que- 
 bec, receiving fifty cents a gallon for seal oil, and from 
 16 
 
33^ ^if^ of Auduhon, 
 
 three to five guineas for black and silver fox skins, and 
 others in proportion. In the montlis of November and 
 December, and indeed until spring, they kill seals in 
 large numbers ; seventeen men belonging to their party 
 killed twenty-five hundred seals once in three days. This 
 great feat was done with short sticks, and each seal was 
 killed with a single blow on the snout, w^hilst lying on the 
 edges of the floating or field ice. The seals are carried 
 home on sledges drawn by Esquimaux dogs, which are so 
 well trained that, on reachhig home, they push the seals 
 from the sledges w'ith their noses, and return to the kil- 
 lers with regular despatch. (Th's, reader, is hearsay !) 
 At other times the seals are driven into nets, one after 
 another, until the poor animals become so hampered and 
 confined, that they are easily and quickly dispatched with 
 guns. The captain showed me a spot, within a few yards 
 of his log cabin, where last winter he caught six fine large 
 silver-gray foxes. Bears and caraboos abound during 
 winter, and also wolves, hares and porcupines. The 
 wolves are of a dun color, very ferocious and daring ; a 
 pack of thirty followed a man to his cabin, and they have 
 several times killed his dogs at his own door. I was 
 surprised at this, because his dogs were as large as any 
 wolves I have ever seen. These dogs are extremely trac- 
 table, so much so that, when geared into a sledge, the 
 leader immediately starts at the word of command for any 
 given course, and the whole pack gallop off at the rate of 
 seven or eight miles an hour. The Esquimaux dogs howl 
 like wolves, and are not at all like our common dogs. 
 They were extremely gentle, and came to us, and jumped 
 on and caressed us as if we w^ere old acquaintances. They 
 do not take to the water, and are fit only for draught and 
 the chase of caraboos ; and they are the only dogs which 
 can at all near the caraboo while runninsf. 
 
 " As soon as winter storms and thick ice close the 
 
Esquimaux Dogs, 339 
 
 harbors and the intermediate spaces between the main- 
 land and the sea islands, the caraboos are seen moving on 
 the ice in great lierds, first to the islands, where the snow 
 is most likely to be drifted, because there in in the shal- 
 lows — from which the snow has blown away — he easily 
 scrapes down to the mosses, which at tliis season are the 
 only food they can find. As the severity of winter in- 
 creases, these animals follow the coast northwest, and 
 gradually reach a comparatively milder climate. But 
 notwithstanding all this, on their return in the spring, 
 which is as regular as the migration of the birds, they are 
 so poor and emaciated, that the men take pity on them, 
 and will not kill them. Merciful beings, these white 
 men ! They spare life when the flesh is off from their 
 bones, and there is no market for their bones at hand. 
 
 *• The otter is tolerably abundant here. These are 
 chiefly trapped at the foot of the waterfalls, to which they 
 resort, being the latest to freeze and the earliest to thaw 
 in spring. A few martins and sables are caught, but every 
 year reduces their number. This Frenchman receives 
 his supplies from Quebec, where he sends his furs and 
 oil. The present time he calls * the idle season,' and he 
 loiters about his cabin, lies in the sunshine like a seal, 
 eats, di-inks, and sleeps his life away, careless of the busy 
 world, and of all that is going on there. His partner hr.s 
 gone to Quebec, and his dogs are his only companions 
 until he returns ; and the dogs, perhaps, are the better 
 animal of the two. He has selected a delightful site for 
 his castle, under the protection of an island, and on the 
 south side, where I found the atmosphere quite warm, 
 and the vegetation actually rank, for I saw plants with 
 leaves twelve inches broad, and grasses three feet high. 
 
 " This afternoon the wind has been blowing a tre- 
 mendous gale, and our anchors have dragged with sixty 
 fathoms of chain out. Yet one of the whaler's boats 
 
340 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 came with six men to pny us a visit. They wished to see 
 some of my drawings, and I gratified them ; and in re- 
 turn they promised to show me a whale before it was cut 
 up, should they catch one before we leave this place for 
 Bras d'Or. 
 
 " July 23. We visited to-day the seal establishment of 
 a Scotchman, named Robertson, about six miles east of 
 our anchorage. He received us politely, addressed me 
 by name, and told me he had received information of my 
 visit to this country through the English and Canadian 
 newsi^apers. This man has resided here twenty years, 
 and married a Labrador lady, the daughter of a Monsieur 
 Chevalier of Bras d'Or ; has a family of six children, and 
 a good-looking wife. He has a comfortable house, and a 
 little garden, in which he raises a few turnips, potatoes, 
 and other vegetables. He appeared to be lord of all these 
 parts, and quite contented with his lot. He told me that 
 his profits last year amounted to three thousand dollars. 
 He does not trade with the Indians, of whom we saw 
 abcut twenty of the Mountaineer trtbe, and he has white 
 men-servants. His seal-oil tubs were full, and he was 
 then engaged in loading a schooner bound to Quebec. 
 He complained of the American fishermen, and said they 
 often acted as badly as pirates towards the Indians, the 
 white settlers, and the eggers, all of whom have more than 
 once retaliated, when bloody combats have followed. He 
 assured me that he had seen a fisherman's crew kill 
 thousands of guillemots in a day, pluck off their feathers, 
 and throw their bodies into the sea. 
 
 " Mr. Robertson also told me that, during mild win- 
 ters, his little harbor is covered with thousands of white 
 gulls, and that they all leave on the appproach of spring. 
 The travelling here is altogether over the ice, which is 
 covered with snow, and in sledges drawn by Esquimaux 
 dcgs, of which this man keeps a famous pack. He often 
 
Esquimaux Dogs, 341 
 
 goes to Bras d'Or, seventy-five miles distant, with his wife 
 and children on one sledge, drawn by ten dogs. Scarcely 
 any travelling is done on land, the country is so precipi- 
 tous and broken. Fifteen miles north of here he says 
 there is a lake, represented by the Indians as four hun- 
 dred miles long and one hundred broad, and thit this 
 sea-like lake is at times as rough as the ocean in a stuun. 
 It abounds with fish, and some water-birds resort there, 
 and breed by millions along its margin. We have had a 
 fine day, but Mr. R. says that the summer has been un- 
 usually tempestuous. The cariboo flies drove our hunt- 
 ers on board to-day, and they looked as bloody as if they 
 had actually had a gouging fight with some rough Ken- 
 tuckians. Here we found on this wonderful wild coast 
 some newspapers from the United States, and received 
 the latest intelligence from Boston to be had at Labra- 
 dor." 
 
 ''^'Jiily 24 and 25 were engaged in hunting birds and 
 drawing, and contain much valuable information on 
 ornithology, which is given in the " Birds of America." 
 
 " Jiily 26. We left our anchorage, and sailed with a 
 fair wind to visit the Chevalier's settlement, called Bonne 
 Espdrance, forty-seven miles distant. When we had gone 
 two-thirds of the distance the wind failed us ; calms were 
 followed by severe squalls, and a tremendous sea rolled, 
 which threatened to shake our masts out. At eight 
 o'clock, however, we came abreast of the settlement, but 
 as our pilot knew notliing of the harbor, the captain 
 thought it prudent to stand off, and proceed on to Bras 
 d'Or. The coast here, like all that we have seen before, 
 was dotted with rocky islands of all sizes and forms, and 
 against which the raging waves dashed in a frightful man- 
 ner, making us shudder at the thought of the fate of the 
 wretched mariners who might be thrown on them. 
 
 ^ July 21. At daylight tliis morning we found our- 
 
342 Life of Audubon, 
 
 selves at the mouth of Bras d'Or Harbor, where we are 
 now snugly moored. We hoisted our colors, and Cap- 
 tain Billings, of American Harbor, came to us in his 
 Hampton boat, and piloted us in. This Bras d'Or is the 
 grand rendezvous ^f almost all the fishermen, that resort 
 to this coast for cod-fish ; and we found here a flotilla of 
 one hundred and fifty sails, principally fore-and-aft 
 schooners, and mostly from Halifax and the eastern 
 parts of the United States. 
 
 " There was a life and bustle in the harbor which 
 surprised us, after so many weeks of wilderness and lone- 
 liness along the rocky coast. Boats were moving to and 
 fro over the whole bay, going after fish, and returning 
 loaded to the gunwale ; some with seines, others with 
 caplings, for bait, and a hundred or more anchored out 
 about a mile from us, hauling the poor cod-fish by thou- 
 sands, and hundreds of men engaged in cleaning and 
 salting them, and enlivening their work with Billingsgate 
 slang, and stories, and songs. 
 
 " As soon as breakfast was over we went ashore, and 
 called on Mr. Jones, the owner of the seal-fishing estab- 
 lishment here, a rough, brown-looking Nova-Scotia man, 
 who received us well, and gave us considerable informa- 
 tion respecting the birds which visit his neighborhood. 
 This man has forty Esquimaux dogs, and he entertained 
 us w^ith an account of his travels with them in winter. 
 They are harnessed with a leather collar, belly and back 
 bands, through the upper part of which the line of seal- 
 skin passes which is attached to the sledge, and it sei-ves 
 the double purpose of a rein and trace to draw with. An 
 odd number of dogs is used for the gang employed in 
 drawing the sledge, the number varying according to the 
 distance to be travelled or the load to be carried. Each 
 dog is estimated to carry two hundred pounds, and to 
 travel with that load at the rate of five or six miles an* 
 
Sledge Riding. 343 
 
 hour. The leader, which is always a well-broken dog, is 
 placed ahead of the pack, with a draft line of from six to 
 ten fathoms in length, and the rest with successively 
 shorter ones, until they come to within eight feet of the 
 sledge. They are not coupled, however, as they are 
 usually represented in engravings, but are attached each 
 loose from all others, so that when they are in motion, 
 travelling, they appear like a flock of partridges all flying 
 loosely, and yet all the same course. They alwa}^ 
 travel in a gallop, no matter what the state of the country 
 may be. Going down hill is most difficult and danger- 
 ous, and at times it is neccssar}' for the rider to guide 
 the sledge with his feet, as boys steer their sleds sliding 
 down hills, and sometimes it is done by long poles stuck 
 into the snow. AVhen the sledge is heavily laden, and 
 the descent steep, the dogs are often taken off, and the 
 vehicle made to slide down the precipice by the man 
 alone, v/ho lies flat on the sledge, and guides it with his 
 toes from behind, as he descends head-foremost. The 
 dogs are so well acquainted with the courses and places 
 in the neighborhood, that they never fail to take their 
 master and his sledge to the house where he wishes them 
 to go, even should a severe snow-storm come on while 
 they are on the journey ; and it is always safer for the 
 rider at such times to trust to the instincts of the dogs, 
 than to attempt to guide them by his own judgment. 
 Cases have occurred where men have done this, and paid 
 the penalty by freezing to death in a desolate wilderness. 
 In such cases the faithful dogs, if left to themselves, 
 make directly for their home. 
 
 " When two travellers meet on a journey, it is neces- 
 sary for both parties to come circuitously and slowly to- 
 wards each other, and give the separate packs the oppor- 
 tunity of observing that their masters are acquainted, or 
 otherwise a fight might ensue between the dogs. Mr. 
 
344 ^\f^ of Audubon, 
 
 Jones lost a son, fourteen years of age, a few years ago 
 in the snow, in consequence of a servant imprudently 
 turning the dogs from their course, thinking they were 
 wrong. The dogs obeyed the command, and took them 
 towards Hudson's Bay. When the weather cleared the 
 servant found his mistake ; but, alas ! it was too late for 
 the tender boy, and he froze to death in the servant's 
 arms. 
 
 " We saw also to-day the carcasses of fifteen hundred 
 seals stripped of their skins, piled up in a heap, and the 
 dogs feeding on them. The stench filled the air for half 
 a mile around. They tell us the dogs feed on this filthy 
 flesh until the next seal season, tearing it piecemeal when 
 frozen in winter. 
 
 " Mr. Jones's house was being painted white, his oil- 
 tubs were full, and the whole establishment was perfumed 
 with odors which were not agreeable to my olfactory 
 nerves. The snow is to be seen in large patches on 
 every hill around us, while the borders of the water- 
 courses are fringed with grasses and weeds as rank as 
 any to be found in the Middle States in like situations. 
 I saw a small brook with fine trout, but what pleased me 
 more was to find the nest of the shore-lark ; it was em- 
 bedded in moss, so exactly the color of the bird, that 
 when the mother sat on it, it was impossible to distin- 
 guish her. We see Newfoundland in the distance, look- 
 ing like high mountains, whose summits are far above 
 the clouds at present. Two weeks since the harbor 
 where we now are was an ice-field, and not a vessel 
 could approach it ; since then the ice has sunk, and none 
 is to be seen far or near. 
 
 " yuly 28. A tremendous gale has blown all day, and 
 I have been drawing. The captain and the rest of our 
 company went off in the storm to visit Blanc Sablons, 
 four miles distant. The fishermen have corrupted die 
 
'The Fuligula Fuse a, 345 
 
 French name into the English of " Nancy Belong." To* 
 wards evening the storm abated, and although it is now 
 almost calm, tl^e sea rui _ high, and the Ripley rolls in a 
 way which makes our suppers rest unquietly in our 
 stomachs. We have tried in vain to get some Esquimaux 
 mocassins and robes ; and we also asked to hire one of 
 them, to act as a guide for thirty or forty miles into the 
 interior. The chief said his son might go, a boy of 
 twenty-three, but he would have to ask his mother, as she 
 was always fearing some accident to her darling. This 
 darling son looked more like a brute than a Christian 
 man, and was so daring, that he w^ould not venture on 
 our journey. 
 
 " We proceeded over the table-lands towards some 
 ponds, and I found three young shore-larks just out of 
 the nest, and not yet able to fly. They hopped about 
 pretty briskly over the moss, uttering a soil peep, to which 
 the parent birds responded at every call. They were 
 about a week old, and I am glad that I shall now have 
 it in my power to make a figure of these birds in sum- 
 mer, winter, and young plumage. We also found the 
 breeding-place of the Fuligula Histrionica, in the corner 
 of a small pond in some low bushes. The parent bird 
 was so shy, that w^e could not obtain her. In another 
 pond we found the nest also of the velvet duck, called 
 here white-winged coot (Fuligula Fusca) ; it was placed 
 on the moss, among the grass, close to the edge of the 
 water, and contained feathers, but no down, as others do. 
 The female had six young, five of which were secured. 
 They were about one week old, and I could readily dis- 
 tinguish the male birds from the females, the former all 
 exhibiting the white spot under the eye. They were 
 black and hairy (not downy) all over except under the 
 chin, where a patch of white showed itself They swam 
 swiftly and beautifully, and when we drove them into a 
 15* 
 
34^ J^\fs of Audubon. 
 
 narrow place, for the purpose of getting them on land 
 and catching them alive, they turned about face and dived 
 most beautifully, and made their way towards the mid- 
 dle of the pond, where four were shot at one discharge. 
 Another went on shore and squatted in the grass, where 
 Lincoln caught it ; but I begged for its life, and we left 
 it to the care of its mother and of the Maker ! The 
 mother showed all imaginable anxiety, and called to her 
 young all the v/hile she remained in the pond, with a 
 short squeaking note by no means unpleasant. 
 
 " y^i^y 29. Bras d'Or. Another horrid stonny day ; 
 the fishermen complain, although five or six left the har- 
 bor for further east ; and I wish them joy, but for my 
 part I wish I was further westward. Our party of young 
 men went off tliis morning early to a place called Port 
 Eau, eighteen miles distant, to try to buy some Esqui- 
 maux mocassins and dresses. Thev will not come back 
 till to-morrow, and I was glad when the boat returned, 
 as I was sure they were on terra firma. I feel quite lone- 
 some on account of their absence, for when all are on 
 board we have lively times, with music, and stories, and 
 jokes, and journalizing. But I have amused myself dravv- 
 ing three young shore-larks, the first ever portrayed by 
 man. 
 
 " These birds are just now beginning to congregate, 
 by associating their families together; even those of 
 which the young are scarcely able to fly fifty yards are 
 urging the latter to follow the flock ; so much for short 
 seasons here. In one month all these birds must leave 
 this coast or begin to suffer. The young of many birds 
 are now fledged, and scamper over the rocks about us, 
 amid the stinking drying cod-fish, with all the sprightli- 
 ness of youth. The young ravens are out, and fly in 
 flocks with their parents also ; and the young of almost 
 all the land birds are full fledged. The ducks alone 
 
An Iceberg Crushed, 347 
 
 seem to me to be backward in their growth, but being 
 more hardy, they can stand the rigidity of the climate 
 until the month of October, when the deep snows drive 
 them off, ready or not, for their toilsome journey. 
 
 " The water of our harbor is actually covered with 
 oil, and the bottom fairly covered with the offal of cod- 
 fish, so that I feel as if smelling and breathing an air 
 impregnated with the essence of cod-fish. 
 
 " July 30. The morning was beautiful w^hen I arose, 
 but such a thing as a beautiful morning in this mournful 
 country amounts almost to an unnatural phenomenon. 
 The captain and myself visited Mr. Jones this afternoon. 
 "We found his wife a good motherly woman, who talked 
 well, and gave us some milk ; she also promised us some 
 fresh butter, and asked to see my drawings of the birds 
 of this vicinity. 
 
 " At Port Eau our young men saw an iceberg of im- 
 mense size. At that place there is a large fishing estab- 
 lishment, having a store connected with it, belonging to 
 fishermen who come yearly from the Island of Jersey. 
 It is again blowing a young hurricane. 
 
 " July 31. Another horrid hurricane, accompanied by 
 hea\y rain, and the vessel rolling so that I cannot go on 
 with my drawing. 
 
 ^^ August I. The v^eather has quite changed, the wind 
 blows from the south-v/est ; it s dry, and I have used 
 the time in drawing. At noon we were visited by an ice- 
 berg, which was driven by the easterly wind and storm 
 of yesterday to within three miles of us, and grounded at 
 the entrance of the bay. It looks like a large man-of- 
 war, dressed in light greenish muslin instead of canvas ; 
 and when the sun shines on it it glitters most brilliantly. 
 
 " When these transient monuments of the sea happen 
 to tumble or roll over, the fall is tremendous, and the 
 sound produced resc mbles that of loud distant thunder. 
 
348 Life of Auduhon. 
 
 These icebergs are common here all summer, being waft- 
 ed from the lower end of the straits with every hea\7 
 easterly wind or gale. And as the winds generally pre- 
 vail from the south and south-west, the coast of New- 
 foundland is more free from them than Labrador j and 
 the navigation along the straits is generally performed 
 along the coast of Newfoundland. My time and our 
 days now weigh heavily on our hands ; nothing to be 
 seen, nothing to be shot, therefore nothing to be drawn. 
 I have now detennined on a last thorough ransack of 
 the mountain tops, and plains, and ponds, and if no suc- 
 cess follows, to raise anchor and sail towards the United 
 States once more ; and blessed will the day be when I 
 land on those dear shores where all I long for in this 
 world exists and lives, I hope. 
 
 ''^August 2. Thermometer 58^ at noon. Thank God 
 it has rained all day. I say thank God, though rain is 
 no rarity, because it is the duty of every man to be thank- 
 ful for whatever happens by the will of the Omnipotent 
 Creator ; yet it was not so agreeable to any of my party 
 as a fine day would have been. We had an arrival of a 
 handsome schooner, called the Wizard, from Boston to- 
 day, but she brought neither papers nor letters ; but we 
 learned that all our great cities have a healthy season, 
 and we thanked God for this. The retrograde movement 
 of many land and water birds has already commenced, 
 especially of the lesser species. 
 
 " August 3. The Wizard broke her moorings and ran 
 into us last night, causing much alarm but no injury. 
 The iceberg of which I have spoken has been broken 
 into a thousand pieces by the late gale, and now lies 
 stranded along the coast. One such monster deposits 
 hundreds of tons of rocks, and gravel, and boulders, and 
 so explains the phenomena which I have before men* 
 tioned as observable along the coast. 
 
'The Birds Migrating, 345 
 
 " August 4. It is wonderful how quickly ever}' living 
 thing in this region, whether animal or vegetable, attains 
 its growth. In six weeks I have seen the eggs laid, the 
 birds hatched, and their first moult half gone through ; 
 their association into flocks begun, and preparations for 
 leaving the country. 
 
 " That the Creator should have ordered that millions 
 of diminutive, tender creatures, should cross spaces of 
 countr}', in all appearance a thousand times more con- 
 genial for all their purposes, to reach this poor, desolate, 
 and deserted land, to people it, as it were, for a time, and 
 to cause it to be enlivened with the songs of the sweetest 
 of the feathered musicians, for only two months at most, 
 and then, by the same extraordinary instinct, should 
 cause them all to suddenly abandon the countiy, is as won- 
 derful as it is beautiful and grand. 
 
 " Six weeks ago this whole country was one sheet of 
 ice ; the land was covered with snow, the air was filled 
 with frost, and subject to incessant storms, and the whole 
 country a mere mass of apparently useless matter. Now 
 the grass is abundant, and of rich growth, the flowers are 
 met with at every step, insects fill the air, and the fruits 
 are ripe. The sun shines, and its influence is as re- 
 markable as it is beautiful j the snow-banks appear as if 
 about to melt, and here and there there is something 
 of a summerish look. But in thirty days ail is over ; the 
 dark northern clouds will come down on the mountains ; 
 the rivulets and pools, and the bays themselves, will begin 
 to freeze ; weeks of snow-storms will follow, and change 
 the whole covering of these shores and countr}', and Na- 
 ture will assume not only a sleeping state, but one of des- 
 olation and death. Wonderful ! wonderful ! But it re- 
 quires an abler pen than mine to paint the picture of this 
 all-wonderful country. 
 
 " August 5. This has been a fine day ! We have had 
 
350 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 no new hurricane, and I have finished the drawings of 
 several new birds. It appears that northern birds come 
 to maturity sooner than southern ones ; this is reversing 
 the rule in the human species. The migration of birds is 
 much more wonderful than that of fishes, because the lat- 
 ter commonly go feeling their way along the shores, from 
 one clime to another, and return to the \Qxy same river, 
 creek, or even hole, to deposit their spawn, as the birds 
 do to their former nest or building-ground as long as they 
 live. But the latter do not feel their way, but launching 
 high in the air, go at once, and correctly, too, across im- 
 mense tracts of country, seemingly indifferent to them, 
 but at once stopping, and making their abode in special 
 parts heretofore their own, by previous knowledge of 
 the advantages and comforts which they have enjoyed, 
 and which they knov/ await them there. 
 
 " August lo. I now sit down to post up my poor book, 
 \"Jiiie a furious gale is blowing v/ithout. I have neglected 
 to make daily records for some days, because I have 
 been so constantly drawing, that when night came, I was 
 too weary to wield my pen. Indeed, all my physical pow- 
 ers have been taxed to weariness by this little work of 
 drawing ; my neck and shoulders, and most of all my 
 fingers, have ached from the fatigue ; and I have suffered 
 more from this kind of exertion than from walking sixty- 
 five miles in a day, which I once did. 
 
 *^ To-day I have added one more new species to the 
 ^ Birds of America,' the Labrador falcon ; and may we live 
 to see its beautiful figure multiplied by Havell's gi'aver.'' 
 
 The journal gives a list of the names of one hundred 
 and seventy-three skins of birds, which were obtained on 
 the coast of Labrador by Audubon and his party on this 
 expedition. The episode given in the following chapter 
 seems to summarize Audubon's observations of the in- 
 habitants of Labrador. 
 

 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Labrador Episodes : The Squatters of .Labrador. 
 
 fO vv'here ycu will, if a shilling can there be pro- 
 cured, you may expect to meet with individuals 
 in search of it. In the course of last summer 
 I met with several persons as well as families whom I 
 could not compare to anything else than what in America 
 we understand by the appellation of squatters. The 
 methods they emi)loyed to accumulate property form the 
 subject of the obsen^ations which I now lay before you. 
 Our schooner lay at anchor in a beautiful basin on the 
 coast of Labrador, sun'ounded by uncouth granite rocks, 
 partially covered with stunted vegetation. While search- 
 ing for birds and other objects I chanced one morning to 
 direct my eyes towards the pinnacle of a small island, 
 separated from the mainland by a very narrow channel, 
 and presently commenced inspecting it with my telescope. 
 There I saw a man on his knees, with clasped hands, and 
 face inclined heavenwards. Before him was a small mon- 
 ument of unhewn stones supporting a wooden cross. In 
 a word, reader, the person w hom I thus unexpectedly dis- 
 covered was engaged in prayer. Such an incident in that 
 desolate land was affecting, for there one seldom finds 
 traces of human beings, and the aid of the Almight}^, al- 
 though necessary everywhere, seems there peculiarly re- 
 quired to enable them to procure the means of subsist- 
 ence. ]\Iy curiosity having been raised, I betook myself 
 to my boat; lajided on the rock, and scrambled to the 
 
2^2 Life of Audubon, 
 
 place, where I found the man still on his knees. When 
 his devotions were concluded he bowed to me and ad- 
 dressed me in very indifferent French. I asked why he 
 had chosen so dreary a spot for his prayers. * Because, 
 answered he, ^ the sea lies before me, and from it I re^ 
 ceive my spring and summer sustenance. When winter 
 approaches I pray fronting the mountains on the mnin, 
 as at that period the caraboos come towards the shore 
 and I kill them, feed on their flesh, and form my bedding 
 of their skins.' I thought the answer reasonable, and, as 
 I longed to know more of him, followed him to his hut. 
 It was low and VQvy small, formed of stones plastered 
 with mud to a considerable thickness. The roof was 
 composed of a sort of thatching made of weeds and 
 moss. A large Dutch stove filled nearly one half of the 
 place ; a small port-hole, then stuffed with old rags, serv- 
 ed at times instead of a window ; the bed was a pile of 
 deer-skins ; a bowl, a jug, and an iron pot were placed 
 on a rude shelf; three old and rusty muskets, their locks 
 fastened by thongs, stood in a corner ; and his buck-shot, 
 powder, and flints were tied up in bags of skin. Eight 
 Esquimaux dogs yelled and leaped about us. The strong 
 smell that emanated from them, together with the smoke 
 and filth of the apartment, rendered my stay in it very 
 disagreeable. Being a native of France, the good man 
 showed much politeness, and invited me to take some re- 
 freshment, when, without waiting for my assent, he took 
 up his bowl and went off I knew not whither. No sooner 
 had he and his strange dogs disappeared, than I went out 
 also to breathe the pure air and gaze on the wild and ma- 
 jestic scenery around. I was struck with the extraordi- 
 nary luxuriance of the plants and grasses that had sprung 
 up on the scanty soil in the little valley which the squatter 
 had chosen for his home. Their stalks and broad blades 
 reached my waist. June had come, and the flies, mos- 
 
Squatters i?i Labrador, 353 
 
 quitocs, and other insects filled the air, and were as trou- 
 blesome to me as if I had been in a Florida swamp. 
 The squatter returned, but he was * chopfallen ; ' nay, I 
 thought his visage had assumed a cadaverous hue. Tears 
 ran down his cheeks, and he told me th.*l his barrel of 
 mm had been stolen by the ' eggers * or some fishermen. 
 He said that he had been in the habit of hiding it in the 
 bushes to prevent its being carried away by those merci- 
 less thieves, who must have watched him in some of his 
 frequent walks to the spot. * Now,' said he, ' I can ex- 
 pect none till next spring, and God knows what will be- 
 come of me in the winter.' Pierre Jean Baptiste Michaux, 
 '■ had resided in that part of the world for upwards of ten 
 years ; he had run away from the fishing-smack that had 
 brought him from his fair native land, and expected to 
 become rich some day by the sale of his furs, skins, and 
 eider-ducks' down, seal-skins, and other articles which he 
 collected yearly, and sold to the traders who regularly 
 visited his dreary abode. He was of moderate stature, 
 firmly framed, and as active as a wild cat.' He told me 
 that, excepting the loss of his rum, he had never experi- 
 enced any other cause of sorrow, and that he felt as 
 'happy as a lord.' Before parting with this fortunate 
 mortal, I inquired how his dogs managed to find suf^cient 
 food. ' Why, sir, during spring and summer they ramble 
 along the shores, where they meet with abundance of 
 dead fish, and in winter they eat the flesh of the seals 
 which I kill late in the autumn, when these animals return 
 from the north. As to myself, everything eatable is good, 
 and when hard pushed, I assure you I can relish the fare 
 of my dogs just as much as they do themselves.' Pro- 
 ceeding along the rugged indentations of the bay with my 
 companions, I reached the settlement of another person, 
 who, like the first, had come to Labrador with the view 
 of making his fortune. We found him after many difft- 
 
354 -^(/^ of Auduhon, 
 
 culties ; but as our boats turned a long point jutting out 
 into the bay we were pleased to see several small schoon- 
 ers at anchor and one lying near a sort of wharf. Sever- 
 al neat-looking houses enlivened the view, and on landing 
 we were kindly greeted with a polite welcome from a man 
 who proved to be the owner of the establishment. For 
 the rude simplicity of him of the rum-cask we found here 
 the manners and dress of a man of the world. A hand- 
 some fur cap covered his dark brow, his clothes were sim- 
 ilar to our own, and his demeanor was that of a gentle- 
 man. On my giving him my name he shook me heartily 
 by the hand, and on introducing each of my companions 
 to him he addressed me as follows : * My dear sir, I have 
 been expecting you these three weeks, having read in tht 
 papers your intention to visit Labrador, and some fisher- 
 men told me of your arrival at Little Natashquan. Gen- 
 tlemen, walk in.' Having followed him to his neat and 
 comfortable mansion, he introduced me to his wife and 
 children. Of the latter- tliere were six, all robust and 
 rosy. The lady, although a native of the country, was of 
 French extraction, handsome, and sufficiently accomplish- 
 ed to make an excellent companion to a gentleman. A 
 smart girl brought us a luncheon, consisting of bread, 
 cheese, and good port wine, to which, having rowed four- 
 teen or fifteen miles that morning, we helped ourselves in 
 a manner that seemed satisfactory' to all parties. Our 
 host gave us newspapers from different j^arts of the 
 world, and showed us his small but choice collection of 
 books. He inquired after the health of the amiable 
 Captain Bayfield of the Royal Navy, and the officers un- 
 der him, and hoped they would give him a call. Having 
 refreshed ourselves, we walked out with him, when he 
 pointed to a very small garden where a few vegetables 
 sprouted out anxious to see the sun. Gazing on the des- 
 olate country around, I asked him how he had thus se- 
 
Squatters in Labrador. 355 
 
 eluded himself from the uwrld. For // he had no relish, 
 and although he had received a liberal education and had 
 mixed with society, he never intended to return to it. 
 ' The country round,' said he, * is all my own much farther 
 than you can see. No fees, no lawyers, no taxes are here, 
 I do pretty much as I choose. ]\Iy means are ample 
 through my own industry. These vessels come here for 
 seal-skins, seal oil, and salmon, and give me in return all 
 the necessaries, and, indeed, comforts of the life I love to 
 follow ; and what else could the ivorld afford me ? ' I 
 spoke of the education of his children. ' My wife and I 
 teach them all that is useful for them to know, and is not 
 that enough .? My girls will marry their countr}'men, my 
 sons the daughters of my neighbors, and I hope all of 
 them wdll live and die in the country.' I said no more, 
 but by way of compensation for the trouble I had given 
 him, purchased from his eldest child a beautiful fox-skin. 
 Few birds, he said, came round in summer, but in winter 
 thousands of ptarmigans were killed, as well as great 
 numbers of gulls. He had a great dislike to all fisher- 
 men and eggers, and I really believe w^as always glad to 
 see the departure of even the hardy navigators who an- 
 nually visited him for the sake of his salmon, his seal- 
 skins, and oil. He had more than forty Esquimaux dogs ; 
 and as I was caressing one of them he said, * Tell my 
 brother-in-law at Bras-cTOr t?iat we are all well here, and 
 that after visiting my wife's father I will give him a call. 
 " Now^, reader, his wife's father resided at the distance 
 of seventy miles down the coast, and like himself was a 
 recluse. He of Bras-ifOr was at double that distance ; 
 But when the snows of winter have thickly covered the 
 country, the whole family in sledges drawn by dogs travel 
 with ease and pay their visits or leave their cards. This 
 good gentleman had already resided there more than 
 twenty years. Should he ever read this article, T desire 
 
35^ Life of Aiiduhon. 
 
 him to believe that I shall always be grateful to him and 
 his wife for their hospitable welcome. When our schoon- 
 er, the Ripley, arrived at Bras-ifOr, I paid a visit to 
 Mr. , the brother-in-law, who lived in a house im- 
 ported from Quebec, which fronted the strait oi Bdlc Isk^ 
 and overlooked a small island, over which the eye reach- 
 ed the coast of Newfoundland whenever it was the wind's 
 pleasure to drive away the fogs that usually lay over both 
 coasts. The gentleman and his wife, we were told, were 
 both out on a walk, but would return in a very short time, 
 which they in fact did, when we followed them into the 
 house, which was yet unfinished. The usual immense 
 Dutch stove formed the principal feature of the interior. 
 The lady had once visited the metropolis of Canada, and 
 seemed desirous of acting the part of a * blue stocking." 
 Understanding that I knew something of the fine arts, 
 she pointed to several of the vile prints hung on the bare 
 walls, which she said were elegant Italian pictures, and 
 continued her encomiums upon them, assuring me that 
 she had purchased them from an Italian who had come 
 there with a trunk full of them. She had paid a shilling 
 sterling for each, frame included. I could give no answer 
 to the good lady on this subject, but I felt glad to find 
 that she possessed a feeling heart. One of her children 
 had caught a siskin, and was tormenting the poor bird, 
 when she rose from her scat, took the little flutterer from 
 the boy, kissed it, and gently launched it into the air. 
 This made me quite forget the tattle about the fine arts. 
 Some excellent milk \>as poured out for us in clean 
 glasses. It was a pleasing sight, for not a cow had we 
 yet seen m the country. The lady turned the conversa- 
 tion on music, and asked if I played on any instrument. 
 I answered that I did, but very indifferently. Her forte, she 
 said, was music, of which she was indeed immoderately 
 fond. Her instrument had been sent to Europe to be re- 
 
A Musical htstrument, 2 SI 
 
 pa./cd, but would return that season, when the whole of 
 her children would again perform many beautiful airs, for 
 in f»ct anybody could use it with ease, as when she or the 
 children felt fatigued the servant played on it for them. 
 Rather surprised at the extraordinary powers of this fam- 
 ily of musicians, I asked what sort of an instrument it 
 was, when she described it as follows : * Gentlemen, my 
 instrument is large, longer than broad, and stands on four 
 legs like a table ; at one end is a crooked handle, by 
 turning which round either fast or slow I do assure you 
 we make excellent music' The lips of my young friends 
 and companions instantly curled, but a glance from me as 
 instantly rccomposed their features. Telling the fair one 
 it must be a hand-organ she used, she laughingly said, 
 *0h, that is it, it is a hand-organ, but I had forgotten the 
 name, and for the life of me could not recollect it.' The 
 husband had gone out to work, and \vas in the harbor 
 caulking an old schooner. He dined with mc on board 
 the Ripley, and proved to be an excellent fellow. Like 
 his brother-in-law, he had seen much of the world, having 
 sailed nearly round it; and although no scholar, like him, 
 too, he was disgusted with it. He held his land on the 
 same footing as his neighbors, caught seals without num- 
 ber, lived comfortably and happily, visited his father-in- 
 law and the scholar by the aid of his dogs, of which he 
 kept a great pack, bartered or sold his commodities as his 
 relations did, and cared about nothing else in the world. 
 Whenever the weather was fair he walked with his dame 
 over the snow-covered rocks of the neighborhood, and 
 during winter killed ptarmigans and caraboos, while his 
 eldest son attended to the traps and skinned the animals 
 caught by them. He had the only horse that was to be 
 found in that part of the country, as well as several cows ; 
 but, above all, he was kind to every one, and every one 
 spoke well of him. The only disagreeable thing about 
 
358 Ltfe of Auduhon, 
 
 the plantation or settlement was a heap of fifteen hun- 
 dred carcasses of skinned seals, which at the time when 
 we visited the place, in the month of August, notwith- 
 standing the coolness of the atmosphere, sent forth a 
 stench that, according to the idea of some naturalists, 
 might have sufficed to attract all the vultures in the Uni- 
 ted States. During our stay at Bi-as-d'Or the kind-heart- 
 ed and good Mrs. daily sent us fresh milk and 
 
 butter, for which we were denied the pleasure of making 
 any return." 
 
 ^^1 
 
 ■^" 
 
i^ 
 
 
 CHAPTER XXXL 
 
 Notes on Labrador — Gulf of St. La'urcncc — St. George's Bay, Ae*a^ 
 fomidland — The Village — Fishcnneii and Women — Indian Wig- 
 wams — Beating About at Sea — Land 07i Ray's Island — Wander- 
 ings Overland — Pidou — Tniro and the Bay of Fundy — Arrival 
 at Halifax, Nova Scotia — Arrival at A^eiv York, and Calculation 
 of Expenses. 
 
 UG UST 1 1 . At sea, Gulf of St. Lawrence. We are 
 now fully fifty miles from the coast of Labrador. 
 Fresh water was taken on board, and all prepa- 
 rations w^ere made last evening, and this morning we bid 
 adieu to the friends we had made at Labrador. 
 
 " Seldom in my life have I left a country with as little 
 regret as this ; next in order would come East Florida, 
 after my excursion up the St. John's River. As we sailed 
 away I saw probably for the last time the high and rug- 
 ged hills, partly immersed in large banks of fog, that usu- 
 ally hang over them. 
 
 " Now we are sailins: before the wind in full sidit of 
 the south-west coast of Newfoundland, the mountains of 
 which are high, spotted with drifted snovz-banks, and cut 
 horizontally with floating strata of fogs extending along 
 the land as far as the eye can reach. The sea is quite 
 smooth, or else I have become a better sailor by this 
 rough voyage. Although the weather is cloudy, it is such 
 as promises in this region a fair night. Our young men 
 are playing the violin and flute, and I am scribbling in my 
 book. 
 
 " It is worth telling that during the two months we 
 have spent on the coast of Labrador, moving from one har- 
 
360 Life of Audubon, 
 
 bor to another, or from behind one rocky island to another 
 only three nights have been passed at sea. Twenty-three 
 drawings have been commenced or finished, and now I 
 am anxious to know if what remains of the voyage will 
 prove as fruitful ; and only hope our Creator will permit 
 us all to reach cur friends in safety and fmd them well 
 and happy. 
 
 '•''August 13. Harbor of St. George's Bay, Newfound- 
 land. By my dates you will see how long we were run- 
 ning, as the sailors call it, from Labrador to this place, 
 where we anchored at five this evening. Our voyage 
 here was all in sight of, and indeed along tlie north-west 
 side of Newfoundland : the shores presenting the highest 
 lands we have yet seen. In some places the views were 
 highly picturesque and agreeable to the eye, although the 
 appearance of vegetation was but little better than at 
 Labrador. The wind was llxir for two-thirds of the dis- 
 tance, and drew gradually ahead and made us uncomfort- 
 able. 
 
 " This morning we entered the mouth of St. George's 
 Bay, which is about forty miles wide and fifty miles deep, 
 and a more beautiful and ample basin cannot be found ; 
 th^re is not a single obstruction w^ithin it. The north- 
 east shores are high and rocky, but the southern are san- 
 dy, low, and flattish. It took us until five o'clock to as- 
 cend it, when we came to anchor in sight of a small \ illage, 
 the only one we have seen in two months ; and we are 
 in a harbor with a clay bottom, and where fifty line-of- 
 battle ships could snugly and safely ride. 
 
 " The village is built on an elongated point of sand 
 or sea wall, under which we now are, and is perfectly 
 secure from all winds except the north-cast. The coun- 
 try on ascending the bay became gradually more woody 
 and less rough in shape. The temperature changed 
 quite suddenly this afternoon, and the weather was so 
 
Si. George* s Bay, 361 
 
 mild that we found it agreeable lolling on deck, and it 
 felt warm even to a southron like myself. Twenty-two 
 degrees difference in tem.perature in two days is a very 
 considerable change. 
 
 " We found here several sail of vessels engaged in 
 the fisheries, and an old hulk from Hull in England, called 
 Charles Tennison, which was wrecked near here four 
 years ago, on her way from Quebec to Hull. As we 
 sailed up the bay two m-en boarded us from a small boat 
 and assisted us as pilots. They had a half barrel of 
 fine salmon, which I bought from them for ten dollars. 
 As soon as we dropped anchor our young men went 
 ashore to buy fresh provisions, but they returned with 
 nothing but two bottles of milk, though the village contains 
 two hundred inhabitants. INIackerel, and sharks of the 
 man-eating kind, arc said to be abundant here. Some 
 signs of cultivation are to be seen across the harbor, and 
 many huts of Michmaes Indians adorn the shores. We 
 learn that tlv) winters are not nearly as severe here as at 
 Quebec, yet not far off I could see dots of snow of last 
 year's crop. Some persons say birds are plenty, others 
 say there are none hereabouts. 
 
 " The ice did not break up, so that this bay was not 
 navigable until the 17th of May, and I feel confident that 
 no one can enter the harbors of Labrador before the loth 
 or middle of June. 
 
 " August 14. All ashore in search of birds, plants, and 
 tlie usual et ceteras belonging to our vocations, but all 
 had to return soon on account of a storm of wind and 
 rain, showing that Newfoundland is cousin to Labrador 
 in tlxis respect. We found the country quite rich however 
 in comparison with the latter place ; all the vegetable pro- 
 ductions are larger and more abundant. We saw a flock 
 of house sparrows, all gay and singing, and on their pas- 
 sage to the south-west." 
 16 
 
362 Life of Audubon, 
 
 Audubon names about twenty different species of 
 birds which he saw here ; hares and caraboos are among 
 the animals, and among the wild plants he found two 
 species of roses. 
 
 " The women flew before us as if we were wild beasts, 
 and one w^ho had a pail of \vater, at sight of us, dropped 
 it, and ran to hide herself; another who was looking for 
 a cow, on seeing us coming, ran into the woods, and after- 
 w'ards crossed a stream waist deep to get home to her hut 
 without passing us. We are told that no laws are admin- 
 istered here, and to my surprise not a sign of a church 
 exists. The j^eople are all fishermen and live poorly ; in 
 one enclosure I saw a few pretty good-looking cabbages. 
 We can buy only milk and herrings, the latter ten cents a 
 dozen ; we were asked eight dollars for a tolerable calf, 
 but chickens were too scarce to be obtained. Two clear- 
 ings across the bay are the only signs of cultivated land. 
 Not a horse has yet made its way into the country, and 
 not even a true Newfoundland dog, nothing but curs of a 
 mLxed breed. 
 
 " Some of the buildings looked like miserable hovels, 
 others more like habitable houses. Not a blacksmith's 
 shop here, and yet one would probably do well. The 
 customs of the people are partly Canadian and partly 
 English. The women all wear cotton caps covering their 
 ears. The passage to and from our vessel to the shore was 
 the roughest I ever made in an open boat, and we were 
 con letely soaked by the waves which dashed over us. 
 
 ^^ August 15. We have had a beautiful day. This 
 morning some Indians came alongside of our vessel with 
 half a reindeer, a caraboo, and a hare of a species I had 
 never seen before. We gave them twenty-one pounds of 
 pork for forty-four pounds of venison, thirty-three pounds 
 of bread for the caraboo, and a quarter of a dollar for the 
 hare. The Indians showed much cleverness in striking 
 
Newfoundland, 363 
 
 the bargain. I spent part of the day drawing, and then 
 visited the wigwarris of the Indians across the bay. We 
 found them, as I expected, all lying down pell-mell in 
 their wigwams, and a strong mixture of blood was per- 
 ceptible in their skins, shape, and deportment : some 
 were almost white, and sorry I am to say, that the nearer 
 they were to our nobler race the filthier and the lazier 
 they were. The women and children were particularly 
 disgusting in this respect. Some of the women were ma- 
 king baskets, and others came in from collecting a fruit 
 called here the baked apple {Rubies chainccnroiis), and 
 when burnt a little it tastes exactly like a roasted apple. 
 The children were catching lobsters and eels, of which 
 there are a great many in the bay, as there are in all the 
 bavs of the island, whilst at Labrador this shell-fish is 
 
 very rare. The young Indians found them by wading to 
 their knees in eel grass. 
 
 " We bargained with two of the hunters to go with our 
 young men into the interior to hunt for caraboos, hares, 
 and partridges, which they agreed to do for a dollar a day. 
 The Indians cook lobsters by roasting them in a pile of 
 brushwood, and eat them without any salt or other con- 
 diment. The caraboos are at this date in * velvet,' their 
 skins are now light grey, and the flesh j^oor but tender. 
 The average weight of this animal, when in good condi- 
 tion, is four hundred pounds. In the early part of March 
 they leave the hilly grounds, where no moss or any other 
 food can be obtained, and resort to the shores of the sea 
 to feed on kelp and other sea grasses cut up by the ice 
 and cast up by the waves along the shore. Groups of 
 several hundreds may be seen at one time thus feeding : 
 their flesh here is not much esteemed ; it tastes like in- 
 different, poor, but very lender venison. 
 
 ''''August 17. We should now be ploughing the deep 
 had the wind been fair, but it has been ahead, and we 
 
364 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 remain here /// statu quo. The truth is, we have deter- 
 mined not to leave this harbor without 'a fair prospect of a 
 good run, and then we shall trust to Providence after that. 
 I have added a curious species of alder to my drawing of 
 ftie white-winged cross-bill, and finished it. We received 
 a visit from Mr., Mrs., and Miss Forest ; they brought us 
 some salad and fresh butter, and in return we gave them 
 a glass of wine and some raisins. The old lady and gen- 
 tleman talked well ; he complained of the poverty of the 
 countr}^ and the disadvantages he experienced from the 
 privileges granted to the Fiench on this coast. They 
 told me they were relatives of Lord Plunket, and that 
 they were well acquainted with our friend Edward Harris 
 and his family. I gave them my card, and showed them 
 the Duke of Sussex's letter, which they borrowed and 
 took home to copy. I had also a visit from an old French- 
 man wlio has resided on this famous island for fifty years. 
 He assured me that no red Indians are now to be found ; 
 the last he had heard of were seen twenty-two years ago. 
 It is :-jaid that these natives give no quarter to anybody, 
 but, after killing their foes, cut off their heads and leave 
 their bodies to the wild beasts of the country. 
 
 " Several flocks of golden-winged plovers passed over 
 the bay this forenoon, and two lestris pomerania came in 
 this evening. The ravens abound here, but no crows 
 have yet been seen ; the great tern are passing south by 
 thousands, and a small flock of Canada geese were also 
 seen. The young of the golden-crested wren were shot. 
 A muscipcapa was killed, which is probably new. I 
 bought seven New^foundland dogs for seventeen dollars : 
 two bitches, four pups, and a dog two years old. With 
 these I shall be able to fulfill promises made to friends to 
 bring them dogs. 
 
 "On the iSth of August at daylight the wind promis- 
 ed to be fiiir, and although it was rather cloudy we broke 
 
At PicloUy Nova Scotia, ^^^ 
 
 our anchorage, and at five o'clock were under weigh. We 
 :oasted along Newfoundland until evening, when the wind 
 rose to a tempest from the south-west, and our vessel was 
 laid to at dark, and we danced and kicked over the waves 
 the whole of that night and the next da3^ The next day 
 the storm abated, but the wind was still so adverse that 
 we could not make the Gannet Rock or any part of New- 
 foundland, and towards the latter we steered, for none of 
 us could bear the idea of returning to Labrador. During 
 the night the weather moderated, and the next day we 
 laid our course for the Straits of Canseau ; but suddenly 
 the wind fiiiled, and during the calm it was agreed that 
 we would try and reach Pictou in Nova Scotia, and trav- 
 el by land. We are now beating about towards that port, 
 and hope to reach it early to-morrow morning. The 
 captain will then sail for Eastport, and we, making our 
 way by land, will probably reach there as soon as he. 
 The great desire we all have to see Pictou, Halifax, and 
 the country between there and Eastport is our induce- 
 ment." 
 
 ^'' Aii(;iisi 2 2. After attempting to beat our vessel into 
 the harbor of Pictou, but without succeeding, we conclud- 
 ed that myself and party should be put on shor--^^ and the 
 Ripley should sail back to the Straits of Canseau, the 
 wind and tide being favorable. We drank a parting glass 
 to our wives and friends, and our excellent little captain 
 took us to the shore, whilst the vessel stood up to the 
 wind, with all sails set, waiting for the captain. 
 
 " We happened to land on an island called Ruy's Isl- 
 and, where, fortunately for us, we met some men mak- 
 ing hay. Two of them agreed to carry our trunks and 
 two of our party to Pictou for two dollars. Our effects 
 were put in a boat in a trice, and we shook hands heart- 
 ily with the captain, towards whom we all now feel much 
 real attachment, and after mutual adieus, and good 
 
^66 Life of Audubon r. 
 
 ^ishes for the completion of our respective journeys, we 
 parted, giving each other three most hearty cheers. 
 
 "We were now, thank God, positively on the main 
 shore of our native land ; and after four days' confine- 
 ment in our births, and sea-sickness, and the sea and ves- 
 sel, and all their smells and discomforts, we were so re- 
 freshed, that the thought of walking nine miles seemed 
 nothing more than figuring through a single quadrille. 
 The air felt uncommonly warm, and the country, com- 
 pared with those we had so lately left, appeared perfecdy 
 beautiful, and we inhaled the fragrance of the new mown 
 grass, as if nothing sweeter ever existed. Even the music 
 of crickets was delightful to my ears, for no such insect is 
 to be found either at Labrador or Newfoundland. The 
 voice of a blue jay sounded melody to me, and the sight of 
 a humming-bird quite filled my mind with delight. 
 
 " We were conveyed to the main, only a very short dis- 
 tance, Ingalls and Coolidge remaining in the boat ; and 
 the rest took the road, along which we moved as lightly as 
 if boys just released from school. The road was good, or 
 seemed to be so ; the woods were tall timber, and the air, 
 which circulated freely, was all perfume ; and every plant 
 we saw brought to mind some portion of the United 
 States, and we all felt quite happy. Now and then as we 
 crossed a hill, and cast our eyes back on the sea, we saw 
 our beautiful vessel sailing freely before the wind, and as 
 she diminished towards the horizon, she at last appeared 
 like a white speck, or an eagle floating in the air, and we 
 wished our captain a most safe voyage to Quoddy. 
 
 " We reached the shore opposite Pictou in two and a 
 half hours, and lay down on the grass to await the arrival 
 of the boat, and gazed on the scenery around us. A num- 
 ber of American vessels lav in the harbor loadin^r with 
 coal. The village located at the bottom of a fine bay on 
 the north-west side looked well, although small. Three 
 
Professor McCullough. 367 
 
 churches appeared above the rest of the biiikUngs, all of 
 wood, and several vessels were building on the stocks. 
 
 " The whole country seemed to be in a high state of 
 cultivation, and looked well. The population is about 
 two thousand. Our boat came, and we crossed the bay, 
 and we put up at the Royal Oak, the best hotel in the 
 place, where we obtained an excellent supper. The very 
 treading of a carpeted floor was comfortable. In the 
 evening we called on Professor IMcCullough, who re- 
 ceived us kindly, gave us a glass of wine, and showed us 
 his collection of well-preserved birds and other things, 
 and invited us to breakfast to-morrow at eight o'clock, 
 when we are further to inspect his curiosities. The pro- 
 fessor's mansion is a quarter of a mile from the town, and 
 looks much like a small English villa. 
 
 '■''August 23. We had an excellent Scotch breakfast at 
 the professor's this morning, and his family, consisting of 
 wife, four sons and daughters, and a wife's sister, w^ere all 
 present. The more I saw and talked with the professor, 
 the more I was pleased wuth him. I showed him a few 
 of my Labrador drawings, after which we marched in a 
 body to the university, and again examined his fine col- 
 lection. I found there half a dozen specimens of birds, 
 which I longed for, and said so, and he offered them to 
 me with so much apparent good will, that I took them 
 and thanked him. He then asked me to look around and 
 see if there were any other objects I would like to have. 
 He offered me all his fresh-water shells, and such miner- 
 als as we might choose, and I took a few specimens of 
 iron and copper. He asked me what I thought of his 
 collection, and I gave him my answer in writing, adding 
 F.R.S. to my name, and telling him that I wished it might 
 prove useful to him. I am much surprised that his valua- 
 ble collection has not been purchased by the Governor of 
 the province, to whom he offered it for five hundred 
 pounds. I think it wort^" '" tVioT'^--'^' -■ ■" 
 
^SS Life of Auduhon. 
 
 " On our return to the hotel we were met by Mr. 
 Blanchard, the deputy consul for the United States, an 
 agreeable man, who offered frankly to do anything in his 
 power to make our visit fruitful and pleasant. ^ Time 
 up,' and the coach almost ready, our bill was paid, our 
 birds packed, and I walked ahead about a mile out of 
 the town, with Mr. Blanchard, who spoke much of Eng- 
 land, and was acquainted with Mr. Adamson, and some 
 other friends whom I knew at Newcastle-on-Tyne. 
 
 " The coach came up, I shook hands with Mr. Blan- 
 chard, jumped in, and away we went for Truro, distant 
 forty miles. The rain began to fall, and the wind to 
 blow from the east, a good wind for the Ripley, and on 
 we rolled on as good a road as any in England, were it 
 only a little broader. We now passed through a fine 
 tract of country, well wooded, well cultivated, and a won- 
 derful relief to our fatigued eyes, which had so long been 
 seeing only desolate regions, snow, and tempestuous 
 storms. 
 
 " By four in the afternoon we were hungr}", and 
 stopped at a house to dine, ana it now rained faster 
 than before. Two ladies, and the husband of one of 
 them as I supposed, had arrived before us, in an open 
 cart or Jersey waggon ; and I, with all the gallantry be- 
 longing to my nature, offered to exchange vehicles with 
 them, which they readily accepted, but without express- 
 ing any thanks in return. After dinner Shattuck, Ingalls, 
 and myself jumped into the open thing ; I was seated by 
 the side of my so-so Irish dame, and our horse moved off 
 at a very good speed. 
 
 " Our exchange soon proved an excellent one, for the 
 weather cleared up, and we saw the country much better 
 than we could have done in the coach, where there were 
 so many passengers that we should have been squeezed 
 together closely. Directly Professor McCullough came 
 
Visits 'T^'urOy Nova Scotia, 369 
 
 up with us, and told us he would see us to-morrow at 
 fruro. Tow^irds sunset we arrived in sight of this pret- 
 ty, loosely-built village, near the head-w^aters of the Bay 
 of Fundy. The view filled me with delight, and the 
 pleasure was deepened by the consciousness that my 
 course was homeward, and I was but a few days from the 
 dearest being to me on earth. 
 
 "We reached the tavern, v;hich the hotel where we 
 slopped was called, but as it could accommodate only 
 three of us, we crossed the street to another house, where 
 we ordered a substantial supper. Professor McCuUough 
 came in, and introduced us to several members of the 
 Assembly of this province. 
 
 " We tried in vain to get a conveyance to take us to 
 Halifax; distant sixt}^-four miles, in the morning, to avoid 
 riding all night in the mail-coach, but could not succeed. 
 Mr. McCulIough then took me to the residence of Sam- 
 uel G. Archibald, Esq., Speaker of the Assembly, \vho re- 
 ceived me most affably, and introduced me to his lady 
 and handsome young daughter ; the former wore a cap 
 fashionable four years ago at home (England). I shov/ed 
 them a few drawings, and received a letter from the 
 Speaker to the Chief Justice at Halifax, and bid them all 
 good night ; and am now waiting the mail to resume my 
 journey. Meanwhile let me say a few words on this lit- 
 tle village. It is situated in the centre of a most beauti- 
 ful valley of great extent, and under complete cultivation ; 
 looking westerly a broad sheet of water is seen, forming 
 thj head of the famous Bay of Fundy, and several brooks 
 run through the valley empt}ing into it. The buildings, 
 although principally of wood, are good-looking, and as 
 cleanly as any of our pretty New England villages, well 
 painted, and green blinds. The general appearance of 
 the people quite took me by surprise, being extremely 
 genteel. The coach is at the door, the corner of my 
 
370 Life of Audubon, 
 
 trunk is gasping to swallow this book, and I must pur it 
 in and be off. 
 
 ^^ August 2^. Wind east^ and hauling to the north- 
 east — all good for the Ripley. We are at Halifax, Nova 
 Scotia, and this is the way we got here : — Last night at 
 eleven we seated ourselves in the coach ; the moon shone 
 bright, and the night was beautiful ; but we could only 
 partially observe the country until the day dawned. But 
 we found out that the road w^as hilly and the horses lazy, 
 and after riding twenty miles we stopped to change 
 horses and warm ourselves. Shortly the cry came, 
 * Coach ready, gentlemen.' In we jumped, and on we 
 rode for a mile and a half, when the linch-pin broke, and 
 we came to a stand-still. Ingalls took charge of the 
 horses, and responded lo the hoot of the owls, which 
 sounded out from the woods, and the rest of the part}', 
 excepting Coolidge and myself, sl'ept soundly, while we 
 were enduring that disagreeable experience of travellers 
 — detention — which is most disagreeable in this latitude) 
 and especially at night. Looking up the road, the vacil- 
 lating glimmer of the candle, intended to assist the driver 
 in finding the linch-pin, was all that could be distinguish- 
 ed, and we began to feel what is called ' wolfish.' The 
 man returned, but found no pin — it could not be found, 
 and another quarter of an hour was spent in fumbling 
 round with ropes to tie our vehicle together. At length 
 the day dawned beautifulh', and I ran ahead of the coach 
 for a mile or so to warm myself; and v.hen the coach 
 came up I got up with the driver to try to obtain some 
 information respecting the country, which was becoming 
 poorer and poorer the further we travelled. Hunger 
 again now began to press us, and we were told that it was 
 twenty-five miles from the lost linch-pin to the breakfist- 
 house. I persuaded the driver to stop at a wayside tav- 
 ern, and inquire the prospects for getting some chickens 
 
Night Ride to Halifax, 371 
 
 or boiled eggs ; but the proprietor said it was impossibla 
 for him to furnish a breakfast for six persons of our ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 " We passed on, and soon came to the track of a 
 good-sized bear in the road, and after a wearisome ride 
 readied the breakfast ground, at a liouse situated on the 
 margin of a lake called Grand Lake, which abounds with 
 fine fish, and soles in the season. This lake forms part 
 of the channel which was intended to be cut for connect- 
 ing the Atlantic Ocean and the Bay of Fundy with the 
 Gulf of St. Lawrence at Bay Verte. Ninety thousand 
 pounds have been expended on the enterprise, and the 
 canal is not finished, and probably never will be ; for the 
 government will not assist, and private efforts seem to 
 have exhausted themselves. This point is seventeen 
 miles from Halifax, and must afford a pleasant residence 
 for summer. 
 
 . "The road from that tavern to Halifax is level and 
 good, though rather narrow, and a very fine drive for pri- 
 vate carriages. We saw the flag of the garrison at Hali- 
 fax, two miles before we reached the place, when we sud- 
 denly turned short, and brought up at a gate fronting a 
 wharf, at which lay a small steam-ferry boat. The gate 
 was shut, and the mail was detained nearly an hour wait- 
 ing for it to be opened. AVhy did not Mrs. Trollope visit 
 Halifax ? The number of negro men and women, beg- 
 garly-looking blacks, would have furnished materials for 
 her descriptive pen. 
 
 " W^e crossed the harbor, in which we saw a sixty-four 
 gun flag-ship riding at anchor. The coach drove up to 
 the house of Mr. Paul, the best hotel, where we with dif- 
 ficulty obtained one room with four beds for six persons. 
 With a population of eighteen thousand souls, and two 
 thousand more of soldiers, Halifax has not one good 
 hotel, and only two very indifferent private boarding- 
 
372 Life of Aiiduhon. 
 
 houses, where the attendance is miserable, and the table 
 by no means good. We are, however, settled. 
 
 " We have walked about the town ; but every one of 
 us has sore feet in consequence of walking on hard 
 ground, after having roamed for two months on the soft, 
 deep mosses of Labrador. The card of an Italian was 
 sent to our rooms, telling us that he had fine baths of all 
 sorts, and Vv'e went off to his rooms and found only one 
 tin tub, and a hole underground, into which the sea-water 
 filters, about the size of a hogshead. I plunged into this 
 hole with Ingalls and Shattuck, then rubbed ourselves 
 dry with curious towels, and paid six cents each for the 
 accommodation. We then walked to the garrison, listen- 
 ed to the music, returned to the hotel^ and have written 
 this, and now send in my card to the aide-de-camp of the 
 Governor of Newfoundland, who resides in this house. 
 
 '"'•August 25. To-day I walked to the whar\^es, and Vv-as 
 surprised to find them every one gated and locked, and 
 sentinels standing guard everywhere. In the afternoon 
 there was a military funeral ; it was a grand sight, the 
 soldiers walked far apart, guns inverted, to the sound of 
 the finest anthem, and wonderfully well executed by an 
 excellent bandf- v 
 
 " There are no signs of style here ; only two ordinary 
 barouches came to church to-day (the Episcopal), where 
 the bishop said the prayers and preached. All the 
 churches receive a certain number of soldiers dressed in 
 uniform. The natives of the province are called ' Blue 
 Noses,' and to-morrow we intend to see all we can of 
 them. 
 
 '"''August 26. To-day I delivered letters which I 
 brought to Bishop Inglis and the Chief Justice, but did 
 not find them at home. To-morrow we hope to leave 
 here for Windsor, distant forty-five miles. 
 ■ . ^^ August 27. At nine o'clock we entered the coach, or 
 
Prince Edwards Lodge, ';^'ji^ 
 
 rather five of us entered it, as it would hold no more, and 
 one was obliged to take an outside seat in the rain. The 
 road from Halifax to Windsor is macadamized and good, 
 winding through undulating hills and valleys ; our horses 
 were good, and although we had but one pair at a time, 
 we travelled six and a half miles an hour. For more 
 than nine miles our course was along the borders of the 
 Bay of Halifax ; the view was pleasant, and here and 
 there we noticed tolerably gook-looking summer-houses. 
 Near the head of this bay, said the driver, an English 
 fleet pursued a squadron of seven French ships, and forc- 
 ed them to haul down their colors ; but the French com- 
 mander, or admiral, sunk all his vessels, preferring to do 
 this to surrendering them to the British. The water was 
 so deep at this place that the tops of the masts of the 
 vessels went deep out of sight, and have been seen only 
 once since then, which was more than twenty years ago. 
 
 " We passed the abandoned lodge of Prince Edward, 
 who spent about one million of pounds on this building 
 and the grounds, but the whole is now a ruin ; thirty 
 years have passed since it was in its splendor. On leav- 
 ing the waters of the bay, we followed those of the Sal- 
 mon River, a small rivulet of swift water,. which abounds 
 with salmon, trout, elwines, &c. The whole country is 
 poor, veiy poor, yet under tolerable cultivation all the 
 way. We passed the seat of Mr. Jeffries, the President 
 of the Assembly, now Acting Governor ; his house is 
 good-looking, large, and the grounds around it are in fine 
 order. It is situated between two handsome fresh-water 
 lakes ; indeed the whole country through which we trav- 
 elled is interspersed with lakes, all of them abounding 
 in trout and eels. 
 
 "We passed the college and common school, both 
 looking well, and built of fine freestone ; a church and 
 several other fine buildings line the road, on \v4iich the 
 
374 ^\f^ of Audubon, 
 
 president and rector reside. AVe crossed the head of the 
 St. Croix River, which rolls its waters impetuously into 
 the Bay of Fundy. Here the lands were all dyked, and 
 the crops looked very well, and from that river to Wind- 
 sor the country improved rapidly. 
 
 " Windsor is a small and rather neat village, on the 
 east side of the River Windsor, and is supported by the 
 vast banks of plaster of Paris around it. This valuable 
 article is shipped in British vessels to Eastport and else- 
 where in large quantities. 
 
 " Our coach stopped at the door of the best private 
 boarding-house, for nowhere in this province have we 
 heard of hotels. The house was full, and we went to an- 
 other, where, after waiting two hours, we obtained an in- 
 different supper. The view from this village was as novel 
 to me as tlie coast of Labrador. The bed of the river, 
 which is here about one mile wide, was quite bare as lar 
 as the eye could reach, say for ten miles, scarcely any wa- 
 ter to be seen, and yet the place where we stood was six- 
 t}-five feet above the bed, which plainly showed that at 
 high tide this wonderful basin must be filled to the brim. 
 Opposite us, and indeed the whole country, is dyked in ; 
 and vessels left dry at the great elevation, fastened to the 
 wharves, had a singular appearance. AVe are told that 
 now and then some vessels have slid sideways from the 
 top of the bank down to the level of the gravelly bed of 
 the river. The shores are covered for a hundred yards 
 with a reddish mud. This looks more like the result of 
 a great freshet than of a tide, and I long to see the waters 
 of the sea advancing at the rate of four knots an hour to 
 fill this basin, a sight I hope to see to-morrow." 
 
 August 28. Here follows the description of the ex- 
 traordinary rise and fall of the waters, and they are evi- 
 dently the notes from which Audubon wrote his episode 
 of the Bay of Fundy. The day was passed in rambling 
 
• St, Johns hy Moonlight, ^^75 
 
 in search of birds in this vicinity. The record for the day 
 concludes : " We intended to have paid our respects to 
 Mr. HaFiiburton, author of the * Description of Nova 
 Scotia/ and other works, but we learned that he was in 
 Boston, where I heartily wished myself. 
 
 '•'' Eastport^ Maine, August ^i, 1833. We arrived here 
 yesterday afternoon in the steamer Maid of the Mist, all 
 well. We left Windsor a quarter before twelve, and 
 reached St. John's, New Bnmswick, at two o'clock at 
 night ; passed Cape Blow-me-Down, Cape Split, and 
 Cape D'Or \ the passengers were few, and we were com- 
 fortable. We traversed the streets of St. John's by moon- 
 light, and in the morning I had the pleasure to meet my 
 friend Edward Harris, and to receive letters from home ; 
 and I am now preparing to leave for Boston as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 The account of the voyage concludes with this sen- 
 tence : 
 
 "W^e reached New York on the morning of the Tth 
 of September, and, thank God, found all well. I paid the 
 balance of the Ripley's charter (eight hundred and sixty- 
 two dollars), and a balance of four hundred and thirty 
 dollars to Dr. Parkman, which he advanced to Dr. S hat- 
 tuck for me. And I was not very well pleased that near- 
 ly the whole burden of the Labrador voyage was put on 
 my shoulders, or rather taken out of my poor purse ; but 
 I was silent, and no one knew my thoughts on that 
 subject." 
 
 )s:^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 
CHAPTER XXXII, 
 
 yoiirnal Resumed — Washington L-vhig — Wanderings South — Florida 
 Excursion Aba?idoned — Returns N'orth — Sails for England- 
 Visit to Baron Rothschild — Rcinovol to Edinburgh — Return to 
 London — Embarks with much Live Stock to New York — Noic^ 
 by the Way. 
 
 EPTEMBER 7, 1833. After Audubon's return 
 from Labrador he remained three weeks in New 
 ork, and then made all his preparations for a 
 journey to Florida. He forwarded to his son Victor, in 
 England, thirteen drawings of land birds, which he had 
 prepared to complete the second volume of the great 
 work; and he left seventeen drawings of sea birds to 
 be forwarded in October, for the commencement of his 
 third volume. As an evidence of the value Audubon set 
 on these drawings, we may note that he insured both par- 
 cels for two thousand dollars each. 
 
 September 25. Mr. and ^Irs. Audubon left New York 
 for Philadelphia on their w^ay to Florida, leaving their son 
 John to sail from New York by water, " with all our arti- 
 cles of w^ar," for Charleston, w^here they proposed to meet. 
 The journal says : " The weather was delightful, and we 
 reached Philadelphia at three o'clock, and took lodgings 
 with Mrs. Newlin, No. 112 Walnut Street. Here I called 
 on some of my former friends and v. as kindly received. 
 I visited several public places in the city, but no one 
 stopped me to subscribe for my book." 
 
 The following letter from Dr. McKenney of Philadel- 
 phia is inserted here as a capital specimen of a racy let- 
 
A Friendly Letter, 2II 
 
 ter, and as evincing, moreover, how Audubon was es- 
 dmated by his friends : 
 
 " Philadelphia, September 30, 1S33. 
 '* My dear Governor, 
 
 " I do not know when I have done a more acceptable 
 service to my feelings, nor when I have been just in a sit- 
 uation to afford as much gratification to yours, as in pre- 
 senting to your notice, and private and official friendship, 
 the bearer, Mr. Audubon. It were superfluous to tell you 
 who he is ; the whole world knows him and respects him, 
 and no man in it has the heart to cherish or the head to 
 appreciate him, and such a man, beyond tlie capacity of 
 yourself. 
 
 " Mr. Audubon makes no more of tracking it in all 
 
 directions over this, and I may add other countries, than 
 
 a shot star does in crossing the heavens. He goes after 
 
 Vv'inged things, but sometimes needs the aid of — at least 
 
 a few feathers, to assist him the better to fly. He means 
 
 to coast it again round Florida — make a track through 
 
 Arkansas — ^go up the Missouri — pass on to the Rocky 
 
 Mountains, and thence to the Pacific. He v/ill require 
 
 some of your official aid. I took an unmerited liberty 
 
 with your name and readiness of purpose, and told him 
 
 you were the very fnan ; and I need not say how happy 
 
 I shall be to learn that you have endorsed my promise 
 
 and ratified it. God bless you. 
 
 " In haste, 
 
 "Thos. L. McKenxey. 
 
 " To the Hon. Lewis Cass, Secretary of War, 
 Washington City," 
 
 " Richmotid^ Virginia, October (710 date). Travelling 
 through the breeding-places 0/ ovk species is far from being 
 as interesting to me as it is to inspect the breeding-places 
 
37^ Life of Audubon, 
 
 of the feathery tribes of our country. Yet as it is the lot 
 of every man like me to know something of both, to keep 
 up the clue of my life, I must say something of the cities 
 through which I pass, and of the events which transpire 
 as I go along. 
 
 " At Philadelphia I of course received no subscrip- 
 tions ; nay, I was arrested there for debt,* and was on 
 the point of being taken to prison, had I not met with 
 William Norris, Esq., who kindly offered to be my bail. 
 This event brings to my mind so many disagreeable 
 thoughts connected with my former business transactions, 
 in which I was always the si?igle loser, that I will only add 
 I made all necessary arrangements to have it paid. 
 
 ^' We left Philadelphia for Baltimore, where I obtained 
 four new subscribers, and received many civilities, and 
 especially from Mr. Theodore Anderson, the collector of 
 the customs. He is fond of birds, and that made me 
 fond of hi?7i. 
 
 " From Baltimore we went to Washington, for the pur- 
 pose of obtaining permission for myself to accompany an 
 expedition to the Rocky Mountains under the patronage 
 of the Government. Generals McComb, Jesup, Colonel 
 Abert, and other influential persons received me as usual 
 with marked kindness. I called on Governor Cass, Sec- 
 retary of War, and met with a reception that nearly dis- 
 heartened me. He said in an indifferent and cold 
 manner that any request of that sort must be made in 
 writing to the Department ; and it recalled to my mind 
 how poor Wilson w^as treated by the famous Jefferson 
 when he made a similar application to that great diplo- 
 matist. I had forgotten to take with me the flattering 
 letter of introduction I had received from Dr. McKen- 
 ney, and I inquired if he would allow me to send the let- 
 
 * One of his old partnership debts. 
 
Meets Washington Irving, 379 
 
 ter : he said, ' Certainly, sir,' and I bowed and retired, 
 deteniiined never to trouble him or the War Department 
 again. 
 
 " I was revolving in my mind how I might get to the 
 Rocky Mountains without the ossistance of the Secretary 
 of AVar, when I suddenly met with a friendly face, no less 
 than Washington Irving's. I mentioned my errand to 
 him and the answer I had received, and he thought I was 
 mistaken. I might have been : but those eyes of mine 
 have discovered more truth in men's eves than their 
 mouths w^ere willing to acknowledge. However, I listen- 
 ed to good Irving with patience and calmness, and he 
 promised to see the Secretary of War ; and he also at 
 once accompanied me to Mr. Taney, the Secretary of the 
 Treasury, who received me well, and at once kindly gave 
 me a letter, granting me the privilege of the revenue cut- 
 ters along the coast south of Delaware Bay." 
 
 Mr. Audubon returned to Baltimore, took the bay 
 steamer for Norfolk, went aboard the Potomac, which was 
 there ready to sail for Richmond, where he arrived at the 
 above date. There he called on Governor Floyd, who 
 promised to try to induce the State of Virginia to sub- 
 scribe for his " Birds of America." 
 
 " October 16. V/e left Richmond this morning in a stage 
 well crammed with Italian musicians and southern mer- 
 chants, arrived at Petersburg at a late hour, dined, and 
 were again crammed in a car drawn by a locomotive, 
 which dragged us twelve miles an hour, and sent out 
 sparks of fire enough to keep us constantly busy in ex- 
 tinguishing them on our clothes. At Blakely we were 
 again crammed into a stage, and dragged about two miles 
 an hour. We crossed the Roanoke River by torchlight 
 in a flat boat, passed through Halifax, Raleigh, Fayette- 
 ville, and Columbia, where we spent the night. Here I 
 met Dr. Gibbs, at whose house we passed the evening, 
 
jSo Life of Audubon, 
 
 and who assisted me greatly ; at his house I met Pres- 
 ident Thomas Cooper, who assured me he had seen a 
 rattlesnake climb a five-rail fence on his land. I received 
 fi-om the treasury of the State four hundred and twenty 
 dollars on account of its subscription for one copy of the 
 * Birds of America.' ' 
 
 Dreading the railway, he hired a carriage for forty 
 dollars to proceed to Charleston, where he arrived in four 
 days, and found his son John, and was kindly received, 
 with his wife, by the Rev. John Bachman. 
 
 Charleston ^ S. C, October 24, 1833. Our time at 
 Charleston has been altogether pleasant. The hospital- 
 ity of our friends cannot be described, and now that we 
 are likely to be connected by family ties I shall say no 
 more on this head." John and Victor Audubon were 
 subsequently married to daughters of this gentleman. 
 
 " My time was well employed ; I hunted for new birds 
 or searciied for more knowledge of old. I drew ; I wrote 
 many long pages. I obtained a few new subscribers, and 
 made some collections on account of my work. 
 
 " My proposed voyage to Florida, which was arranged 
 for the 3d of November, was abandoned on account of 
 the removal of my good friend Captain Robert Day from 
 his former station to New York, and I did not like to 
 launch on the Florida reefs in the care of a young officer 
 unknown to me ; and besides this, my son Victor wrote me 
 from England desiring my return. So we began to pre- 
 pare gradually for a retrograde movement toward the 
 north, and on the ist of March we left our friends and 
 Charleston to return to New York. We travelled through 
 North and South Carolina, and reached Norfolk, Va., on 
 the 6th ; w^ent up the bay to Washington, thence to Bal- 
 timore, and took lodgings at Theodore Anderson's in 
 Fayette Street. 
 
 " At Baltimore we saw all our friends and obtained 
 
London Once More, 381 
 
 three new subscribers, and lost one, a banker." Here 
 Audubon remained about a month ; went to Philadelphia 
 to collect money, which he found rather difficult ; and 
 passed on to New York. 
 
 April 16, 1834. After remaining two weeks in 
 New York, Audubon, his wife, and son John, sailed 
 on the above date for Liverpool, " in the superb pack- 
 et, the North America, commanded by that excellent 
 gentleman, Mr. Dixey of Philadelphia. Our company 
 was good ; our passage was good ; the first land we 
 saw was Holyhead, and in nineteen days after leaving 
 America we were put ashore in Old England." Audubon 
 saw his friends in Liverpool, who had lost none of their 
 former cordiality and kindness ; and after a few days he 
 left with his family, by the way of Birmingham, for Lon- 
 don. 
 
 '''■May 12. We reached London to-day and found our 
 son Victor quite well, and were all happy. My work 
 and business were going on prosperously." x^fter re- 
 maining several weeks in London, and seeing to mat- 
 ters relating to his publication there, Audubon and his 
 son Victor went to deliver letters of introduction which 
 they had brought. Among those letters was one from one 
 of the firm of the distinguished American banking-house 
 Prime, Ward, and King, to the famous London bank- 
 er, Rothschild. " The letter was addressed to Baron 
 Rothschild, the man who, notwithstanding his original 
 * poverty, is now so well known through his immense wealth, 
 which he uses as banker, jobber, and lender (>f money. 
 We found no difficulty in ascertaining the place of busi- 
 ness of the great usurer. Business in London is thor- 
 oughly matter of fact ; no external pomp indicated the 
 counting-house of the baron ; there was nothing to dis- 
 tinguish it from those of men of less enormous capital; 
 and we walked into his private office without any hin- 
 
382 Life of Auduhon, . 
 
 drance, and introduced ourselves without any introducer. 
 
 " The Baron was not present, but we were told by a 
 good-loking young gentleman that he would come in in 
 a few minutes ; and so he did. Soon a corpulent man 
 appeared, liitching up his trousers, and a face red with 
 the exertion of walking, and without noticing any one 
 present, dropped his fat body into 2 comfortable chair, 
 as if caring for no one else in this wide world but him- 
 self While the Baron sat, we stood, with our hats held 
 respectfully in our hands. I stepped forward, and with 
 a bow tendered him my credentials. ' Pray, sir,' said the 
 man of golden consequence, ' is this a letter of business, 
 or is it a mere letter of introduction ? ' This I could not 
 well answer, for I had not read the contents of it ,and 
 I was forced to answer rather awkwardly that I could 
 not tell. The banker then opened the letter, read it with 
 the manner of one who was looking only at the temporal 
 side of things, and after reading it said, ^ This is only a 
 letter of introduction, and I expect from its contents that 
 you are the publisher of some book or other and need 
 my subscription.' 
 
 " Had a man the size of a mountain spoken to me 
 in that arrogant style in America, I should have indig- 
 nantly resented it ; but where I then was it seemed best 
 to swallow and digest it as well as I could. So in reply 
 to the offensive arrogance of this banker, I said I should 
 be Jionored by his subscription to the * Birds of America.' 
 ' Sir, ' he said, ' I never sign my name to any subscription 
 list, but you may send in your work and I will pay for a 
 copy of it. Gentlemen, I am busy, I wish you good- 
 morning.' We were busy men, too, and so bowing re- 
 spectfully, we retired, pretty well satisfied with the small 
 slice of his opulence which our labor was likely to obtain. 
 
 " A few da3^s afterwards I sent the first volume of my 
 work half bound, and all the numbers besides, then pub- 
 
^he Baron Rothschild, '2 8 -^ 
 
 lished. On seeing them we were told that he ordered 
 the bearer to take them to his house, which was done di- 
 rectly. Number after number was sent and delivered to 
 the Baron, and after eight or ten months my son made 
 out his account and sent it by Mr, Havell, my engraver, 
 to his banking-house. The Ba^on looked at it with amaze- 
 ment, and cried out, ^ What, a hundred pounds for birds ! 
 Why, sir, I will give you five pounds, and not a farthing 
 more ! ' Representations were made to him of the mag- 
 nificence and expense of the work, and how pleased 
 his Baroness and wealthy children would be to have a 
 copy ; but the great financier was unrelenting. The copy 
 of the work was actually sent back to Mr. Havell's shop, 
 and as I found that instituting legal proceedings against 
 him would cost more than it would come to, I kept the 
 work, and afterwards sold it to a man with less money 
 but a nobler heart. What a distance there is between 
 two such men as the Baron Rothschild of London and 
 the merchant of Savannah ! " 
 
 Audubon remained in London looking after his work 
 and interests there until the fall of 1834, when he went 
 with his family to Edinburgh, where he hired a house and 
 spent a year and a half. 
 
 There is no journal describing the incidents of that 
 residence in Edinburgh ; and it is probable that Audubon 
 did not keep a daily record there at all. The journ- . was 
 written chiefly with the design to keep his wife and chil- 
 dren informed of all his doings when he was absent fi"om 
 them, and tliey were with him during this period, and so 
 there was no necessity for it ; and secondly, he was daily 
 so busily occupied with other writing that he had no time 
 to devote to that, or even his favorite work of drawing 
 and painting. Some idea of the amount of his labor at 
 that period may be inferred from the fact, that the intro- 
 duction to volume second of his " American Ornitholog- 
 
384 T^if^ of Auduhon. 
 
 ical Biography," which contains five hundred and eighty- 
 five pages of closely-printed matter, is dated December 
 ist, 1834 ; and that in just one year firom that date, the 
 third volume, containing six hundred and thirt}^-eight 
 pages, was printed and published. 
 
 In the summer of 1836 he removed his family to 
 London, and having settled them in Wimpole-street, Cr.v- 
 endish Square, he again made his preparations to return 
 to America, and make the excursion into some of the 
 southern States, which he had been contemplating for a 
 long time, for the purpose of increasing the new varieties 
 of birds for his great work. 
 
 ytily 30, 1836, the journal begins, saying that Mr. 
 Audubon left London that day with his son John for 
 Portsmouth, where he arrived the next day, and took pas- 
 sage on board the packet-ship Gladiator, for New York. 
 
 ^^ August I. Somewhat before the setting of the sun 
 we went on board, ate and drank, and laid ourselves down 
 in those floating catacombs, vulgarly called berths. When 
 the Gladiator left St. Katharine's Dock she had on our 
 account two hundred and sixty live birds, three dogs re- 
 ceived as a present from our noble friend, the Earl of 
 Derby, and a brace of tailless cats from our friend George 
 Thackery, D. D., provost of King's College. They had 
 been on board several days, and seemed not to have re- 
 ceived much care, and some of the birds had died. But 
 the dogs and some of the birds were alive, and crossed 
 the Atlantic safely. 
 
 August 2. About five this afternoon the anchor was 
 apeak, several new persons were hoisted on deck, our 
 sails were spread to the breeze, and the Gladiator 
 smoothly glided on her course. The passengers were a 
 fair average as to agreeability, and among them was Wal- 
 lack the actor, who amused us with some admirable puns. 
 The voyage was prosperous, and the time passed pleas- 
 
A New Tori Packet. 385 
 
 antly, until we approached the banks of Newfoundland, 
 when we began to fear and dream of icebergs and disas- 
 ters ; but none came, and the Gladiator kept her course 
 steadily onward, when, just five weeks after leaving Eng- 
 land, in the afternoon, the highlands of Neversink were dis- 
 covered, about fifteen miles distant. The w^elcome news of 
 our approach to the Hook thrilled my heart with ecstacy. 
 
 " The evening was dark, and no pilot in sight ; and 
 rockets were thrown up from the ship to attract one. 
 This soon brought one alongside, and an American tar 
 leaped on board. Oh ! my Lucy, thou knowest me, but 
 I cried like a child, and when our anchor was dropped, 
 and rested on the ground of America, thy poor husband 
 laid himself down on his knees, and there thanked God 
 for His preservation of myself and our dear son. 
 
 " All was now bustle and mutual congratulations ; our 
 commander was praised for his skill by some, and others 
 praised his whiskey punch, which the waiters handed 
 about, and the night was nearly spent in revelr}- ; but 
 John and myself retired at two o'clock. 
 
 " It rained hard and blew all night, but I slept com- 
 fortably, and awoke the next morning at four o'clock as 
 happy as any man could be three thousand miles from the 
 dearest friend he had on earth. As a gleam of daylight 
 appeared, my eyes searched through the hazy atmosphere 
 to catch a glimpse of the land, and gradually Staten Island 
 opened on my view ; then the boat of the custom-house 
 officer appeared, and soon he boarded us, arranged the 
 sailors and passengers on deck, and called their names. 
 Then followed breakfast, and soon another boat with a 
 yellow flag flying landed the health officer, and there be- 
 ing no sickness on board, myself and John returned to 
 Staten Island in the doctor's boat, and were taken by the 
 steamer Hercules to the city, where we were welcomed by 
 relatives and friends." 
 
 17 
 

 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 In America — Philadelphia — Boston — Friends and Birds — Meeting 
 with Daniel Webster — Back to N'e^u York — Social Meetings — 
 Washington — Two Letters of Washington Irving — Interview 
 with the President — Proposed Scientific Expedition. 
 
 EPTEMBER 13. Audubon remained in New 
 York until this date, obtained two subscribers 
 and the promise of two more, visited the mar- 
 kets and found a few specimens of new birds, and left for 
 Philadelphia; paid three dollars for his fare on the 
 steamer Sw^an, and fifty cents for his dinner ; " but," the 
 journal adds, "we were too thick to thrive. I could get 
 only a piece of bread and butter, snatched from the table 
 at a favorable moment. 
 
 " I found the country through wliich we passed great- 
 ly improved, dotted with new buildings, and the Delaware 
 River seemed to me handsomer than ever. I reached 
 Philadelphia at six o'clock p. m., and found Dr. Harlan 
 waiting for me on the wharf, and he took me in his car- 
 riage to his hospitable house, where I was happy in the 
 presence of his amiable wife and interesting son. 
 
 " September 24. Went to the market with Dr. Harlan 
 at five o'clock this morning ; certainly this market is the 
 finest one in America. The flesh, fish, fruit and vege- 
 tables, and fowls, are abundant, and about fifty per cent, 
 less than in New York ; where, in fact, much of the pro- 
 duce of Pennsylvania and New Jersey is taken now-a-days 
 for sale — even game ! I bought two soras (cedar birds) 
 for forty cents, that in New York would have brought 
 
Flying Visits, 387 
 
 eighty cents. After breakfast went to the Academy of 
 Natural Sciences, met Dr. Pickering, and had a great 
 treat in looking over and handling the rare collection 
 made by Nuttall and Townsend in their excursion on and 
 over the Rocky Mountains. It belongs to the Academy, 
 which assisted the travellers with funds to prosecute their 
 journey j it contains about forty new species of birds, and 
 its value cannot be described." 
 
 Audubon spent only a day or two in Philadelphia, saw 
 his old friends there, was present at one of the meetings 
 of the Academy, obtained a few new birds, and returned 
 to New York. Mr. Edward Harris, his old friend, called 
 to see him ; and when he was told of the new species of 
 birds obtained by Townsend, " offered to give, me five 
 hundred dollars towards purchasing them. Is not this a 
 noble generosity to show for the love of science ? " 
 
 " Boston, September 20, 1836. I came here from New 
 York, via the steamer Massachusetts and the Providence 
 Railroad, for seven dollars, which included supper and 
 breakfast. There were three hundred passengers, and 
 among them several persons known to me. A thick fog 
 compelled the steamer to anchor at midnight ; in tlie 
 morning our sail up the bay to Providence was like a 
 fairy dream. Nature looked so beautiful and grand, and 
 so congenial to my feelings, tliat I wanted nothing but 
 thy dear self here, Lucy, to complete my happiness. The 
 locomotive pulled us from Providence to Boston at the 
 rate of fifteen miles an hour ; we arrived at four p. m. ; 
 a cart took my trunk, and sitting myself by the side of 
 the owner, we drove to the house of my friend Dr. George 
 C, Shattuck. The family soon gathered for tea, and I 
 was now happy, and after talking for a while I retired to 
 rest in the same room and bed where John and I slept 
 after our return from Labrador." 
 
 Audubon spent several days in Boston, visiting the 
 
j88 Life of Audiihon, 
 
 public institutions and his friends, among whom he men- 
 tions Mr. Everett, Dr. Bowditch, Dr. Gould, and Mr. 
 
 David, "where I found Maria D , now Mrs. Motley, 
 
 as handsome as ever, and her husband not far short of 
 seven feet high." 
 
 '^ September 20. Went to the market and bought a 
 fine pigeon hawk which is now found in Massachusetts, 
 for two cents. Visited Roxbury with Thomas Brewer, a 
 young man of much ornithological taste, to see his col- 
 lection of skins and eggs : found his mother and family 
 ver}" kind and obliging, and received from him seven 
 eggs of such species as I have not. Returned and visited 
 David Eckley, the great salmon fisher : promised to 
 breakfast with him to-morrow. 
 
 " September 21. Went to market and bought a female 
 blue teal for ten cents. Called on Dr. Storer, and 
 heard that our learned friend Thomas Nuttall had just 
 returned from California. I sent Mr. Brewer after him, 
 and waited with impatience for a sight of the great travel- 
 ler, whom we admired so much when we w^ere in this 
 fine city. In he came, Lucy, the very same Thomas Nut- 
 tall, and in a few minutes we discussed a considerable 
 portion of his travels, adventures, and happy return to 
 this land of happiness. He promised to obtain me dupli- 
 cates of all the species he had brought for the Academy 
 at Philadelphia, and to breakfast with us to-morrow, and 
 we parted as we have before, friends, bent on the promo- 
 tion of the science we study. 
 
 ^^ September 22. This has been a day of days v/ith 
 me ; Nuttall breakfasted with us, and related much of his 
 journey on the Pacific, and presented me with five new 
 species of birds obtained by himself, and which are named 
 after him. One of Dr. Shattuck's students drove me in 
 the doctor's gig to call on Governor Everett, who received 
 me as kindly as ever ; and then to the house of Presi- 
 
Flying Visits. 3^9 
 
 dent Tinnay of Harvard University, where I saw his fam- 
 ily ; and then to Ju Ige Story's. Then crossing the coun- 
 try, we drove to Col. J. H. Perkins', and on the way I 
 bought a fine male white-headed eagle for five dollars. 
 On my return I learned that at a meeting of the Nationa^ 
 History Society yesterday a resolution was passed to 
 subscribe for my work. 
 
 "Dr. Bowditch advised me to go to Salem, and with 
 his usual anxiety to promote the welfare of every one, 
 gave me letters to Messrs. Peabody and Cleveland of that 
 place, requesting them to interest themselves to get the 
 Athenaeum to subscribe for my work. 
 
 ^^ Salem, Mass., September 23, 1836. Rose early this 
 morning, and made preparations to go to Salem ; and at 
 seven o'clock I was in the stage, rolling out of Boston to- 
 wards this beautiful and quiet village. The road might 
 be called semi-aquatic, as it passes over bridges and em- 
 bankments through salt marshes of great extent, bounded 
 by wooded hills towards the sea, and distant ones inland. 
 We stopped a few moments at Shoemaker Town (Lynn), 
 where I paid one dollar for my fare, and reached this 
 place afterwards at half-past ten. 
 
 "I was put down at the Lafayette Hotel, and soon 
 made my way to Mr. Cleveland's office ; he received me 
 kindly, and invited me to dine with him at one o'clock. 
 I took some back numbers of my * Birds of America ' to 
 Miss Burley, and found her as good, amiable, and gener- 
 ous as ever ; and she at once interested herself to make 
 the object of my visit successful. Called on Dr. Pierson, 
 to whom I had a letter, and met a most congenial spirit, 
 a man of talents and agreeable manners. The Doctor 
 weut with me to see several 'persons likely to be interested 
 in my work ; and I then called alone on a Miss Sitsby, a 
 beautiful * blue,' seven or eight seasons beyond her teens, 
 and very wealthy. Blues do not knit socks, or put on 
 
2go Life of Audiihon, 
 
 buttons when needed ; they may do for the parlor, but 
 not for the kitchen. Although she has the eyes of a ga- 
 zelle, and capital teeth, I soon discovered that she would 
 be no help to me : when I mentioned subscription, it 
 seemed to fall on her ears, not as the cadence of the wood 
 thrush or mocking-bird does in mine, but as a shower- 
 bath in cold January. Ornithology seemed to be a thing 
 for which she had no taste ; she said, however, ^ I will 
 suggest your wish to my father, sir, and give you an an- 
 swer to-morrow morning.' She showed me some valuable 
 pictures, especially one by that king of Spanish painters, 
 Murillo, representing himself, and gun, and dog ; the 
 Spanish dress and tout ensemble brought to my mind my 
 imaginations respecting Gil Bias. At last I bowed, she 
 curtsied, and so the interview ended. 
 
 " Septetnber 23. ^ Chemin faisant.' I met the curator 
 of the Natural History Society of Salem, and gladly ac- 
 cepted his invitation to examine the young collection of 
 that new-born institution, and there I had the good for- 
 tune to find one ^gg of the American bittern, 
 
 " It was now nearly one o'clock, and going to the 
 office of Mr. Cleveland, I found him waiting to conduct 
 me to his house. We soon entered it and his dining- 
 room, where I saw three lovely daughters and a manly- 
 looking youth, their brother. The dinner was excellent, 
 and served simply ; but as our future bread and buttei 
 depend on my exertions, I excused myself as soon as con- 
 venient, and went to Dr. Pierson, who accompanied me 
 to call on some gentlemen who would be likely to take an 
 interest in my work." 
 
 Audubon returned on September 24th to Boston, and 
 remained there one week, visiting his friends and looking 
 for subscribers to his Birds. 
 
 " September 2*] . The citizens are all excitement ; guns 
 are firing, flags flying, and troops parading, and John 
 
Interview with Daniel Webster. 391 
 
 Quincy Adams is delivering a eulogy on the late Pres- 
 ident Madison. The mayor of Boston did me the hon- 
 or to invite me to join in the procession, but I am no 
 politician, and declined. 
 
 " I dined with Dr. B. C. Green, President of the Nat- 
 ural History Society, with President Quincy, Isaac P. 
 Davis, and Mr. Nuttall. In the evening Dr. Shattuck 
 finished the subscription list of the society, by presenting 
 me to his lady, who subscribed for one-tenth, and the Dr. 
 then put down his son George's name for one-twentieth, 
 making in his own family one-fourth of the whole, or two 
 hundred and twenty dollars, for which he gave me his 
 cheque. Without the assistance of this generous man, it 
 is more than probable that the society never would have 
 had a copy of the ' Birds of America.' 
 
 ^''September 29. Mr. Isaac P. Davis called to invite me 
 to spend the evening at his house, and to meet Daniel 
 Webster. I met him at the Historical Society, where I 
 saw the last epaulets worn by our glorious Washington, 
 many of his MS. letters, and the coat Benjamin Franklin 
 wore at the French and English courts. 
 
 " Mr. Davis has some fine pictures, which I enjoyed 
 looking at, and after a while Daniel Webster came, and 
 we welcomed each other as friends indeed, and after the 
 usual compliments on such occasions we had much con- 
 versation respecting my publication. He told me he 
 thought it likely a copyright of our great worl might be 
 secured to you and our children. We took tea, talked of 
 ornithology and ornithologists ; he promised to send me 
 some specimens of birds, and finished by subscribing to 
 my work. I feel proud, Lucy, to have that great man's 
 name on our list, and pray God to grant him a long life 
 and a happy one. Mr. AVebster gave me the following 
 note : — 
 
 " * I take this mode of commending Mr. Audubon to 
 
J92 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 any friends of mine he may meet in his journey to the 
 west. I have not only great respect for Mr. Audubon's 
 scientific pursuits, but entertain for him personally much 
 esteem and hearty good wishes. 
 
 "* Daniel Webster.'" 
 
 After obtaining a few more subscribers, and deliver- 
 ing some numbers of his birds to former ones, Audubon 
 bid adieu to his friends in Boston, and returned to New 
 York. 
 
 " October lo. Had a pleasant call from Washington 
 Irving, and promise of valuable letters to Van Buren and 
 others in Washington. After dinner went to Mr. Coop- 
 er's, the naturalist, who at first with some reluctance 
 showed me his birds. We talked of ornitholog}^, and he 
 gave me five pairs of sylvia, and promised to see me 
 to-morrow. 
 
 ''^October ii. At nine o'clock Mr. Cooper came to 
 see me, and examined the third volume of our work. 
 He remained two hours, con-ersing on our favorite study, 
 and I was pleased to find him more generously inclined 
 to forward my views after he had seen the new species 
 given me by Nuttall. I went to his house with him, and 
 he gave me several rare and valuable specimens, and 
 promised me a list of the birds found by himself and 
 Ward in the State of New York. 
 
 ^' October 1^. Called on Inman the painter; saw the 
 sketch intended for thee, but found it not at all like thy 
 dear self. He says he makes twelve thousand dollars a 
 year by his work. Dined at Samuel Sw^artwout's, a grand 
 dinner, with Mr. Fox, the British minister, Mr. Buckhead, 
 secretary of legation, Thomas Moore, the poet, Judge 
 Parish, and sundry others. Mrs. S. and her daughter 
 were present ; all w^ent off in good style, and I greatly 
 enjoyed myself. Several of the party invited me to visit 
 
Dinner with S, Swartwout. ^93 
 
 them at their residences, and General Stewart of Baltimore 
 invited me to make his house my home when I visited 
 there. 
 
 " October 15. We have packed our trunks and sent 
 them on board the steamer, and leave this evening for 
 Philadelphia. The weather has been perfectly serene 
 and beautiful, and the Bay of New York never looked 
 more magnificent and grand to me. We soon glided 
 across its smooth surface and entered the narrow and 
 sinuous Raritan ; and as I saw flocks of ducks winging 
 their way southward, I felt happy in the thought that I 
 should ere long follow them to their winter abode. We 
 soon reached the railroad, and crossed to the Delaware, 
 and before six o'clock reached the house of my good 
 friend Dr. Harlan." 
 
 Here Audubon saw many of his old friends, visited 
 the public works and institutions, and obtained a few 
 new species of birds. After speaking of the great changes 
 in that city, the journal says : " Passed poor Alexander 
 Wilson's school-house, and heaved a sigh. Alas, poor 
 Wilson ! would that I could once more speak to thee, and 
 listen to thy voice. When I was a youth, the woods stood 
 unmolested here, looking wild and fresh as if just from 
 the Creator's hands ; but now hundreds of streets cross 
 them, and thousands of houses and millions of diverse 
 improvements occupy their places : Barton's Garden is 
 the only place which is unchanged. I walked in the 
 same silent mood I enjoyed on the same spot when 
 first I visited the present owner of it, the descendant of 
 William Barton, the generous friend of Wilson." 
 
 On November 8th, Audubon arrived in Washington. 
 Among many other letters of introduction given to peo- 
 ple in Washington, and transcribed carefully in the 
 journal, are the two following from Washington Irving. 
 
 17* 
 
394 J^^f^ of Auduhon, 
 
 Tarrytown, October 19, 1836. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 This letter will be handed to you by our distin- 
 guished naturalist, Mr. J. J. Audubon. To one so pure- 
 ly devoted as yourself to anything liberal and enlightened, 
 I know I need say nothing in recommendation of Audu- 
 bon and his works ; he himself will best inform you of 
 his views in visiting AVashington, and I am sure } ou will 
 do anything in your pov/er to promote them. 
 
 He has heretofore received facilities on the part of 
 the government, in prosecuting his researches along our 
 coast, by giving him conveyance in our revenue cutters 
 and other public vessels. I trust similar civilities will 
 be extended to him, and that he will receive all aid and 
 countenance in his excursions by land. 
 
 The splendid works of Mr. Audubon, on the sale of which 
 he depends for the remuneration of a life of labor, and for 
 provision for his family, necessarily, from the magnificence 
 of its execution, is put beyond the means of most individ- 
 uals. It must depend therefore on public institutions for 
 its chief sale. As it is a national work, and highly cred- 
 itable to the nation, it appears to me that it is particular- 
 ly deserving of national patronage. Why cannot the de- 
 partments of Washington furnish themselves with copies, 
 to be deposited in their libraries or archives ? Think of 
 these suggestions, and, if you approve of them, act accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 With the highest esteem and regard, 
 
 I am, dear sir. Yours very truly, 
 
 Washington Irving. 
 Benjamin F. Butler, Esq., 
 Attorney-General of the United States, Washington, D. C. 
 
 ^ARRYTOWN, October ^ 19, 1836. 
 
 My dear Sir, 
 
 I take pleasure in introducing to you our distin- 
 guished and most meritorious countr}'man, J. J. Audubon, 
 
Letter to M. Van Bur en, 395 
 
 whose splendid work on American ornithology must of 
 course be well known to you. That work, while it re- 
 flects such great credit on our country, and contributes so 
 largely to the advancement of one of the most delightful 
 departments of science, is likely, from the extreme ex- 
 pense attendant upon it, to repay but poorly the indefati 
 gable labor of a lifetime. The high price necessarily put 
 on the copies of Mr. Audubon's magnificent work places 
 it beyond the means of the generality of private individ- 
 uals. It is entitled therefore to the especial countenance 
 of our libraries and various other public institutions. It 
 appears to me, that the different departments in Washing- 
 ton ought each to have a copy deposited in their libraries 
 or archives. Should you be of the same opinion you 
 might be of great advantage in promoting such a meas- 
 ure." 
 
 Reference is then made to the assistance rendered to 
 Audubon by the revenue cutters and public vessels, and 
 the letter continues : — 
 
 " I trust similar facilities will still be extended to him ; 
 in fact, as his undertakings are of a decidedly national 
 character, and conducive of great national benefit, the 
 most liberal encouragement in every respect ought to be 
 shown to him on the part of our government. 
 
 I am, my dear Sir, 
 
 Your attached Friend, 
 
 Washington Irving." 
 
 "The IIonorable Martin Van Burex." 
 
 ^^ November 8. Called on Colonel Abert, who received 
 me with his wonted civility, promised to assist me in all 
 my desires, and walked with me to the President's, to pre- 
 sent my letters. There we found Colonel Donaldson and 
 Mr. Earle, both nephews, I believe, of General Jackson, 
 and in a moment I was in the presence of this famed 
 
396 \ Life of Audubon, 
 
 man, and had shaken his hand. He read Mr. Swartwout's 
 letter twice, with apparent care, and having finished, said, 
 ' Mr. Audubon, I will do all in my power to serve you, 
 but the Seminole war will, I fear, prevent you from hav- 
 ing a cutter ; however, as we shall have a committee at 
 twelve o'clock, we will consider this, a^id give you an an- 
 swer to-morrow.' The general looked w^ell, he was smok- 
 ing his pipe, and gave his letters to Colonel Donaldson, 
 who read them attentively, and as I left the room he fol- 
 lowed us, and we talked to him respecting the subscrip- jj 
 tion of the different departments. I like this man and 
 his manners ; and I gave him the letters of the Duke of 
 Sussex and the Governor of the Hudson Bay Company 
 to read, and went to see Colonel Earle, who is engaged 
 in painting General Jackson's portrait. 
 
 " Colonel Abert then took me to Mr. Woodbury, Sec- 
 retary of the Treasury, who received me very politely, 
 and after reading my letters to him, promised me the use 
 of the cutter. The subscription was also broached to 
 him, but nothing decisive was said ; and so we passed 
 over to Mr. Butler's office, who is a young man. He read 
 Washington Irving's letter, laid it down, and began a long 
 talk about his talents, and after a while came round to my 
 business ; saying, that the government allows so little 
 money to the departments, that he did not think it proba- 
 ble that their subscription could be obtained without a 
 law to that effect from Congress. This opinion w^as any- 
 thing but gratifying ; but he made many courteous prom- g 
 ises to bring the matter before the next Congress, and I ' 
 bid him adieu, hoping for the best. 
 
 "Called on Mr. John S. Mechan, librarian to Con- 
 gress, and found him among his books. After some 
 agreeable conversation respecting his work and my own, 
 he asked me to dine with him to-day, and to-morrow to 
 visit the curious chimney-sweep possessing curious knowl- 
 
Celebrities in TFashington. 397 
 
 edge of the Sora Rail, a water bird vulgarly supposed to 
 buiy itself in the mud and lie torpid all winter. Accom- 
 panied by John, I took tea at Colonel Abert's, and then 
 walked to Mr. Woodbury's, to spend the evening. There 
 the Colonel handed me an order for the use of the cutter, 
 and informed me that the Treasury Department had sub- 
 scribed for one copy of our work. Mr. AVoodbur}'^ also 
 offered us a passage to Charleston in the cutter, Camp- 
 bell, about to sail for that station. The vessel is only 
 fifty-five tons ; and although Columbus crossed the Atlan- 
 tic in search of a new world in a barque yet more frail, 
 and although thy husband would go to the world's end 
 after new birds on land, he would not like to go from Bal- 
 timore on such a vessel carr\'ing three guns and twenty- 
 one men. I am now hoping soon to see again the breed- 
 ing grounds of the wood ibis, and the roseate spoonbill. 
 ^^ November 9. To-day Colonel Abert called with me 
 on Secretary Dickinson, of the navy. He received us 
 frankly, talked of the great n'aval and scientific expedition 
 round the world now proposed to be fitted out by the 
 government. To my surprise and delight his views co- 
 incided exactly with mine. He said he was opposed to 
 fiigates and large ships, and to great numbers of extra 
 sailors on such an enterprise, when only peaceful objects 
 were intended. We differed, however, respecting the 
 number of the scientific corps : he was for a few, and I 
 for duplicates at least; because in case of death or illness 
 some of the departments of*science would suffer if only 
 one person were sent. He asked me respecting the fit- 
 ness of certain persons whose names had been mentioned 
 for the voyage. But I gave evasive answers, not wishing 
 to speak of individuals who are both unfit and inimical to 
 me to this very day. Most sincerely do I hope that this, 
 our first great national expedition, may succeed, not only 
 for the sake of science, but also for the honor of our be- 
 
39 B Life of Auduhon. 
 
 loved country. I strongly recommended George Lehman, 
 my former assistant, as he is in every respect one of the 
 best general draftsmen I know. I also recommended the 
 son of Dr. McMurtrie (how strange, you will say), and 
 young Reynolds, of Boston, as an entomologist. 
 
 " The secretary paid me some compliments, and told 
 me the moment the expedition had been mentioned he 
 had thought of me, and Nuttall, and Pickering — a glorious 
 trio ! I wish to God that I were young once more ; how 
 delighted I would be to go in such company, learned men 
 and dear friends. He also took us to his house, to see 
 the work published by the French government, of the 
 voyages of L'Athalie, and presented by that government 
 to our own. It is a magnificent production, quite French, 
 and quite perfect. I next took John to the White House, 
 which is the vulgar name for the President's residence. 
 Mr. Earle introduced us, and John saw for the first time 
 that extraordinary man. General Andrew Jackson. He 
 was very kind, and as soon as he heard that we intended 
 departing to-morrow evening for Charleston, invited us to 
 dine with him enfamille. At the named hour we went to 
 the White House, and were taken into a room, where the 
 President soon joined us. I sat close to him ; we spoke 
 of olden times, and touched slightly on politics, and I 
 found him very averse to the cause of the Texans. We 
 talked also of the great naval expedition, European af- 
 fairs, &c. Dinner being announced, we went to the table 
 with his two nephews, Colonel Donaldson being in the 
 truest sense of the word a gentleman. The dinner was 
 what might be called plain and substantial in England ; 
 I dined from a fine young turkey, shot within twenty miles 
 of Washington. The general drank no wine, but his 
 health was drunk by us more than once ; and he ate very 
 moderately, his last dish consisting of bread and milk. 
 As soon as dinner was over we returned to the first room. 
 
Dines with General Jackson, 399 
 
 where was a picture, ay, a picture of our great Washing- 
 ton, painted by Stewart, when in the prime of his age and 
 art. This picture, Lucy, was found during the war with 
 England by Mrs. Madison, who had it cut out of the 
 frame, rolled up, and removed to the country, as Mr. 
 Earle told me. It is the only picture in the whole house 
 — so much for precious republican economy. Coffee was 
 handed, and soon after John and I left, bidding adieu to 
 a man who has done much good ^.A much evil to our 
 counfr5\" 
 
 
^<.~^/G^^ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Excursion South — Starts in Cutter for Galveston Bay^ Texas — Bar a- 
 
 taria Bay — Great Hunting Excursion with a Squatter — N'otes in 
 
 Texas — Wretched Population — Buffalo Bayou — Texan Capitol 
 
 and Houses of Congress — Reaches New Orleans — Charleston — In 
 
 England Again — Literary Labors — Back to America. 
 
 HARLESTON, S. C, November 17, 1836. Vve 
 arrived here last evening, after an irksome and fa- 
 tiguing journey, and seemingly very slowly per- 
 formed, in my anxiety to reach a resting place, where 
 friendship and love would combine to render our time 
 happy, and the prosecution of our labor pleasant. We were 
 hungry, thirsty, and dusty as ever t^vo men could be ; but 
 we found our dear friends all well, tears of joy ran from 
 their eyes, and we embraced the whole of them as if born 
 from one mother. John Bachman was absent from home, 
 but returned at nine from his presidential chair at the 
 Philosophical Society." 
 
 Audubon passed the winter of 1836 and 1837 in 
 Charleston, with his friend Dr. Bachman, making occa- 
 sional excursions into the country, to the neighboring sea 
 islands, and also to Savannah and Florida. But the 
 Seminole war then raging, he was unable to penetrate 
 much into the interior. This winter he began the studies 
 in Natural History, which led to the publication of the 
 Quadrupeds of North America, in connection with Dr. 
 Bachman. Early in the spring, he appears to have left 
 Charleston, in the revenue cutter Campbell, Captain 
 Coste, for explorations in the Gulf of Mexico. The jour- 
 nals are lost which describe the interval between the 17th 
 of Januar}^ and the ist of April, under which latter date 
 
Bar at aria B^y, 401 
 
 we read that Audubon, his son John, and Mr. Edward 
 Harris, came down from New Orleans, in the cutter, to 
 the S. W. pass, provisioned for two months, and bound 
 westwardly from the mouth of the Mississippi to Galves- 
 ton Bay, in Texas, with the intention of exploring the 
 harbors, keys, and bayous along the coast, and to examine 
 the habits of the birds of this region, and to search for 
 new species, to furnish materials for the completion of the 
 fourth volume of the " Birds of America." 
 
 ^' April 2,' We were joined this day by Captain W. B. 
 G. Taylor, of the Revenue seiTice, with the schooner 
 Crusader, twelve tons burden, two guns, and four men 
 completely equipped for our expedition, with a supply of 
 seines, cast-nets, and other fishing-tackle." 
 
 The same day they entered Barataria Bay, and began 
 operations, and found a variety of birds which are de- 
 scribed in the journal. The next day the party landed, 
 and made excursions in different directions, in pursuit of 
 birds and eggs. Among the spoils of game taken this 
 day, were two white pelicans, of which there was an 
 abundance. 
 
 The next three weeks were spent in visiting the 
 islands and bayous, and penetrating some of the rivers 
 which pour into the latter that occur along the coast be- 
 tween the Mississippi river and Galveston. The parties 
 landed at various points, and found many nev/ species of 
 birds, and other interesting objects of Natural Histor)% 
 In the course of one of these rambles, Audubon made 
 the acquaintance of a squatter, a great hunter, and with 
 whom he went on an excursion, which is thus de- 
 scribed : — 
 
 " I entered the squatter's cabin, and immediately 
 opened a conversation with him respecting the situation 
 of the swamp and its natural productions. He told me 
 he thought it the very place I ought to visit, spoke of the 
 
402 Life of Audubon, 
 
 game which it contained, and pointed to some bear and 
 deer skins, adding, that the individuals to which they had 
 belonged formed but a small portion of the number of 
 those animals which he had shot within it. My heart 
 swelled with delight ; and on asking if he would accom- 
 pany me through*the great swamp, and allow me to be- 
 come an inmate of his humble but hospitable mansion, I 
 was gratified to find that he cordially assented to all my 
 proposals, so I immediately unstrapped my drawing ma- 
 terials, laid up my gun, and sat down to partake of the 
 homely but wholesome fare intended for the supper of 
 the squatter, his wife, and his two sons. The quietness 
 of the evening seemed in perfect accordance with the 
 gentle demeanour of the family. The wife and children, 
 I more than once thought, seemed to look upon me as a 
 strange sort of person, going about, as I told them I was, 
 in search of birds and plants ; and were I here to relate 
 the many questions which they put to me, in return for 
 those which I addressed to them, the catalogue would oc- 
 cupy several pages. The husband, a native of Connecti- 
 cut, had heard of the existence of such men as myself, 
 both in our own countr}" and abroad, and seemed greatly 
 pleased to have me under his roof Supper over, I ask- 
 ed my kind host what had induced him to remove to this 
 v;ild and solitaiy spot. ' The people are growing too 
 numerous now to thrive in New England,' was his an- 
 swer. I thought of the state of some parts of Europe, 
 and calculating the denseness of their population, com- 
 pared with .that of New England, exclaimed to myself, 
 how much more difficult must it be for men to thrive in 
 those populous countries ! The conversation then 
 changed, and the squatter, his sons and myself spoke of 
 hunting and fishing, until at length tired, we laid our- 
 selves down on pallets of bear-skins, and reposed in peace 
 on the floor of the only apartment of which the hut con- 
 
A Panther Hunt, 403 
 
 sisted. Day dawned, and the squatter's call to his hogs, 
 which, being almost in a wild state, were suffered to seek 
 the greater portion of their food in the woods, awakened 
 me. Being ready dressed, I was not long in joining him. 
 The hogs and their young came grunting at the well- 
 known call of their owner, who threw them a few ears of 
 corn, and counted them, but told me that for some weeks 
 their number had been greatly diminished by the ravages 
 committed upon them by a large panther, by which name 
 the cougar is designated in America, and that the raven- 
 ous animal did not content himself with the flesh of his 
 pigs, but now and then carried off one of his calves, not- 
 withstanding the many attempts he had made to shoot it. 
 The * painter,' as he sometimes called it, had on several 
 occasions robbed him of a dead deer ; and to these ex- 
 ploits, the squatter added several remarkable feats of au- 
 dacity which it had performed, to give me an idea of the 
 formidable character of the beast Delighted by his de- 
 scription, I offered to assist him in destroying the ene- 
 my ; at which he was highly pleased, but assured me that 
 unless some of his neighbors should join us with their 
 dogs and his own, the attempt would prove fruitless. 
 Soon after, mounting a horse, he went off to his neigh- 
 bors, several of w^hom lived at a distance of some miles, 
 and appointed a day of meeting. The hunters accord- 
 ingly made their appearance one fine morning at the door 
 of the cabin, just as the sun was emerging from beneath 
 the horizon. They were five in number, and fully equip- 
 ped for the chase, being mounted on horses, which in 
 some parts of Europe might appear sorry nags, but 
 which in strength, speed, and bottom, are better fitted 
 for pursuing 2. cougar or a bear through woods and mo- 
 rasses than any in their country. A pack of large ugly 
 curs was already engaged in making acquaintance with 
 those of the squatter. He and myself mounted his two 
 
404 Life of Audubon, 
 
 best horses, whilst his sons were bestriding others of in- 
 ferior quality. Few words were uttered by the party 
 until we had reached the edge of the swamp, where it 
 was agreed that all should disperse, and seek for the 
 fresh track of the * painter,' it being previously settled 
 that the discoverer should blow his horn, and remain on 
 the spot until the rest should join him. In less than an 
 hour the sound of the horn was clearly heard, and stick- 
 ing close to the squatter, off we went through the thick 
 woods, guided only by the now-and-then repeated call of 
 the distant huntsman. We soon reached the spot, and in 
 a short time the rest of the party came up. The best 
 dog was sent forward to track the cougar, and in a few 
 moments the whole pack was observed diligently trailing 
 and bearing in their course for the interior of the swamp. 
 The rifles were immediately put in trim, and the party 
 followed the dogs at separate distances, but in sight of 
 each other, determined to shoot at no other game than 
 the panther. 
 
 " The dogs soon began to mouth, and suddenly 
 quickened their pace. My companions concluded that 
 the beast was on the ground, and putting our horses to a 
 gentle gallop, we followed the curs, guided by their 
 voices. The noise of the dogs increased, when all of a 
 sudden their mode of barking became altered, and the 
 squatter urging me to push on, told me that the beast 
 was treed, by which he meant, that it had got upon some 
 low branch of a large tree to rest for a few moments, and 
 that should we not succeed in shooting him when thus 
 situated, we might expect a long chase of it. As we ap- 
 proached the spot, we all by degrees united into a body, 
 but on seeing the dogs at the foot of a large tree, sepa- 
 rated again, and galloped off to surround it. Each hunt- 
 er now moved with caution, holding his gun ready, and 
 allowing the bridle to dangle on the neck of his horse, as 
 
A Panther Hunt. 405 
 
 it advanced slowly towards the dogs. A shot from one 
 of the party was heard, on which the cougar was seen to 
 leap to the ground, and bound off with such velocity as 
 to show that he was very unwilling to stand our fire 
 longer. The dogs set off in pursuit with great eagerness, 
 and a deafening cry. The hunter who had fired came up 
 and said that his ball had hit the monster, and had prob- 
 ably broken one of his forelegs, near the shoulder, the 
 only place at which he could aim. A slight trail of 
 blood was discovered on the ground, but the curs pro- 
 ceeded at such a rate that we merely noticed this, and 
 put spurs to our horses, which galloped on towards the 
 centre of the swamp. One bayou was crossed, then 
 another still larger and more muddy, but the dogs were 
 brushing forward, and as the horses began to pant at a 
 furious rate, we judged it expedient to leave them, and 
 advance on foot. These determined hunters knew that 
 the cougar, being wounded, would shortly ascend another 
 tree, where in all probability he would remain for a con- 
 siderable time, and that it would be easy to follow the 
 track of the dogs. We dismounted, took off the saddles 
 and bridles, set the bells attached to the horses' necks at 
 liberty to jingle, hoppled the animals, and left them to 
 shift for themselves. Now, kind reader, follow the group 
 marching through the swamp, crossing muddy pools, and 
 making the best of their way over fallen trees, and 
 amongst the tangled rushes that now and then covered 
 acres of ground. If you are a hunter yourself all this 
 will appear nothing to you ; but if crowded assemblies of 
 * beauty and fashion,' or the quiet enjoyment of your 
 ' pleasure grounds ' delight you, I must mend my pen be- 
 fore I attempt to give you an idea of the pleasure felt on 
 such an expedition. After marching for a couple of 
 hours, we again heard the dogs : each of us pressed for- 
 v/ard, elated at the thought of terminating the career of 
 
4o6 Life of Audubon, 
 
 the cougnr. Some of the dogs were heard whining, al* 
 though the greater number barked vehemently. We felt 
 assured that the cougar was treed, and that he would rest 
 for some time to recover from his fatigue. As we came 
 up to the dogs, we discovered the ferocious animal lying 
 across a large branch, close to the trunk of a cotton-wood 
 tree. His broad breast lay towards us ; his eyes were at 
 one time bent on us and again on the dogs beneath and 
 around him ; one of his fore-legs hung loosely by his side, 
 and he lay crouched, with his ears lowered close to his 
 head, as if he thought he might remain undiscovered. 
 Three balls were fired at him at a given signal, on which 
 he sprang a few feet from the branch, and tumbled head- 
 long to the ground, attacked on all sides by the enraged 
 curs. The infuriated cougar fought with desperate 
 valour ; but the squatter advancing in front of the party, 
 and, almost in the midst of the dogs, shot him immedi- 
 ately behind and beneath the left shoulder. The cougar 
 writhed for a moment in agony, and in another lay dead. 
 The sun was now sinking in the west. Two of the hunt- 
 ers separated from the rest to procure venison, whilst the 
 squatter^s sons were ordered to make the best of their 
 way home, to be ready to feed the hogs in the morning. 
 The rest of the party agreed to camp on the spot. The 
 cougar was despoiled of his skin, and the carcass left to 
 the hungry dogs. Whilst engaged in preparing our 
 camp, we heard the report of a gun, and soon after one 
 of our hunters returned with a small deer. A fire was 
 lighted, and each hunter displayed his 'pone ' of bread, 
 along with a flask of whisky. The deer was skinned in 
 a trice, and slices placed on sticks before the fire. These 
 materials afforded us an excellent meal ; and as the night 
 grew darker, stories and songs went round, until my com- 
 panions, fatigued, laid themselves down, close under the 
 smoke of the fire, and soon fell asleep. I walked for 
 
Galveston Harbor, 407 
 
 some minutes round the camp to contemplate the beauties 
 of that Nature, from which I have certainly derived my 
 greatest pleasure. I thought of the occurrences of the 
 clay ; and glancing my eye around, remarked the singular 
 effects produced by the phosphorescent qualities of the 
 large decayed trunks, which lay in all directions around 
 me. How easy, I thought, would it be for the confused 
 and agitated mind of a person bewildered in a swamp 
 like this to imagine in each of these luminous masses 
 some wondrous and fearful being, the \&xy sight of which 
 might make the hair stand erect on his head ! The 
 thought of being myself placed in such a predicament 
 burst upon my mind ; and I hastened to join my com- 
 panions, beside whom I laid me down and slept, assured 
 that no enemy would approach us without first rousing 
 the dogs, which were growling in fierce dispute over the 
 remains of the cougar. At daybreak we left our camp, 
 the squatter bearing on his shoulders the skin of the late 
 destroyer of his stock, and retraced our steps until we 
 found our horses, which had not strayed far from the 
 place where we left them. These we soon saddled ; and 
 jogging along in a direct course, guided by the sun, con- 
 gratulating each other on the destruction of so formidable 
 a neighbour as the panther had been, we soon arrived at 
 my host's cabin. The five neighbours partook of such 
 refreshments as the house could afford, and, dispersing, 
 returned to their homes, leaving me to follow my favorite 
 pursuits. 
 
 ^^ April 2^. Arrived in Galveston Bay this afternoon, 
 having had a fine run from Atchafalaya Bay. We were 
 soon boarded by officers from the Texan vessels in the 
 harbor, who informed us that tvvo days before the U. S. 
 sloop of war Natchez fell in with the Mexican squadron 
 off the harbor of Velasco, captured the brig Urea, and 
 ran two other vessels ashore ; another report says they 
 
4o8 Life of Audubon, 
 
 sunk another ship, and went in pursuit of the squadron. 
 These vessels were taken as pirates — the fleet having 
 sailed from Vera Cruz without being provisioned, had 
 been plundering American vessels on the coast. There 
 is also a rumor that the Texan schooner Independence 
 has been captured by a Mexican cruiser. The American 
 schooner Flash was driven ashore a few days since by a 
 Mexican cruiser, and now lies on the beach at the lower 
 end of the island. 
 
 " April 2^. A hea\y gale blew all night, and this morn- 
 ing the thermometer in the cabin is (i2>^.f and thousands 
 of birds, arrested by the storm in their migration north- 
 ward, are seen hovering around our vessels, and hiding 
 in the grass, and some struggling in the water, completely 
 exhausted. 
 
 ' "We had a visit this morning from the Secretary of 
 the Texan navy, Mr. C. Rhodes Fisher, who breakfasted 
 with us. He appeared to be a well-informed man, and 
 talked a great deal about the infant republic, and then 
 left us for the seat of government at Houston, seventy 
 miles distant, on the steamer Yellow Stone, accompanied 
 by Captains Casto and Taylor, taking the Crusader in tow. 
 
 '^^ April 26. Went ashore at Galveston. The only ob- 
 jects we saw of interest were the Mexican prisoners ; they 
 are used as slaves ; made to carry wood and water, and 
 cut grass for the horses, and such work ; it is said that 
 some are made to draw the plow. They all appear to be of 
 delicate frame and constitution, but are not dejected in 
 appearance. - 
 
 " April 2 7. We were off at an early hour for the island, 
 two miles distant ; we waded nearly all the distance, so 
 very shallow and filled with sandbanks is this famous Bay. 
 The men made a large fire to keep off the mosquitoes, 
 which were annoying enough for even me. Besides 
 many interesting birds, we found a new species of rat- 
 
Galveston Island. 409 
 
 tiesnake, with a double row of fangs on each side of its 
 jaws. 
 
 ^^ April -28. We went on a deer hunt on Galveston 
 Island, where these animals are abundant ; we saw about 
 twenty-five, and killed four. 
 
 ^^ Ap7'il 2^. John took a view of the rough village of 
 Galveston, with the Lucida. We found much company 
 on board on our return to the vessel, among whom was 
 a contractor for beef for the army ; he was from Connecti- 
 cut, and has a family residing near the famous battle- 
 ground of San Jacinto. He promised me some skulls 
 of Mexicans, and some plants, for he is bumped with 
 botanical bumps somewhere. 
 
 " Galveston Ba}\ May i, 1837. I w-as much fatigued 
 this morning, and the muscles of my legs were swelled 
 until they were purple, so that I could not go on shore. 
 The musk-rat is the only small quadruped found here, 
 and the common house-rat has not yet reached this part 
 of the world. 
 
 ''''May 2. Went ashore on Galveston Island, and landed 
 on a point where the Texan garrison is quartered. We 
 passed through the troops, and observ^ed the miserable 
 condition of the whole concern ; huts made of grass, and 
 a few sticks or sods cut into square pieces composed the 
 buildings of the poor Mexican prisoners, which, half clad, 
 and half naked, strolled about in a state of apparent inac- 
 tivity. We passed two sentinels under arms, very unlike 
 soldiers in appearance. The whole population seemed 
 both indolent and reckless. We saw a few fowls, one 
 pig, and a dog, which appeared to be all the domestic 
 animals in the encampment. We saw only three women, 
 who were >texican prisoners. The soldiers' huts are 
 placed in irregular rows, and at unequal distances; a 
 dirty blanket or coarse rag hangs over the entrance in 
 place of a door. No windows were seen, except in one 
 
4IO Life of Auduhon, 
 
 or two cabins occupied by Texan officers and soldiers. 
 A dozen or more long guns lay about on the sand, and 
 one of about the same calibre was mounted. There was 
 a look-out house fronting and commanding the entrance 
 to the harbor, and at the point where the three channels 
 meet there were four guns mounted of smaller calibre. 
 We readily observed that not much nicety prevailed among 
 the Mexican prisoners, and we learned that their habits were 
 as filthy as their persons. We also found a few beautiful 
 flowers, and among them one which Harris and I at once 
 nicknamed the Texan daisy ; and we gathered a number of 
 their seeds, hoping to make them flourish elsewhere. On 
 the top of one of the huts we saw a badly-stufled skin of 
 a grey or black wolf, of the same species as I have seen 
 on the Missouri. AVhen we were returning to the vessel 
 we discovered a large svrord-fish grounded on one of the 
 sandbanks, and after a sharp contest killed her with our 
 guns. In w^hat we took to be a continuation of the stom- 
 ach of this fish, we found four young ones, and in another 
 part resembling the stomach six more w^ere packed, all 
 of them alive and w'riggling about as soon as they were 
 thrown on the sand. It would be a fact worth solving to 
 know if these fish carry their young like viviparous rep- 
 tiles. The young were about thirty inches in length, and 
 minute sharp teeth were already formed. 
 
 " May 8. To-day we hoisted anchor, bound to Hous- 
 ton : after grounding a few times, we reached Red Fish 
 Bar, distant twelve miles, where we found several Ameri- 
 can schooners and one brig. It blew hard all night, and 
 we were uncomfortable. 
 
 " May 9. We left Red Fish Bar with the Crusader and 
 the gig, and with a fair wind proceeded rapidly, and soon 
 came up to the new-born tow^n of New Washington, 
 owned mostly by Mr. Swartwout the collector of customs 
 of New York. We passed several plantations j and the 
 
At Houstori^ ^exas, 411 
 
 general appearance of the country was more pleasing than 
 othenvise. About noon we entered Buffalo Bayou, at 
 tlie mouth of the San Jacinto River, and opposite the 
 famous battle-ground of the same name. Proceeding 
 smoothly up the bayou, we saw abundance of game, and 
 at the distance of some twenty miles stopped at the 
 house of a Mr. Batterson. This bayou is usually slug- 
 gish, deep, and bordered on both sides with a strip of 
 woods not exceeding a mile in depth. The banks have a 
 gentle slope, and the soil on its shores is good ; but the 
 prairies in the rear are cold and generally wet, bored by 
 innumerable cray-fish, destitute of clover, but covered 
 with coarse grass and weeds, with a sight here and there 
 of a grove of timber, rising from a bed of cold, wet clay. 
 
 It rained and lightened, and we passed the night at 
 Mr. Batterson's. The tenth it rained again, but we 
 pushed on to Houston, and arrived there wet and hungry. 
 The rain had swollen the water in the bayou, and in- 
 creased the current so that we were eight hours rowing 
 twelve miles. 
 
 ^^ Afay 15. We landed at Houston, the capital of Texas, 
 drenched to the skin, and were kindly received on board 
 the steamer Yellow Stone, Cap^iin West, who gave us his 
 state-room to change our clothes, and furnished us re- 
 freshments and dinner. 
 
 " The Buffalo Bayou had risen about six feet, and the 
 neighboring prairies were partly covered with water : 
 there was a wild and desolate look cast on the surround- 
 ing scener}\ We had already passed two little girls en- 
 camped on the bank of the bayou, under the cover of a 
 few clap-boards, cooking a scanty meal ; shanties, car- 
 goes of hogsheads, barrels, &c., were spread about the 
 landing ; and Indians drunk and hallooing were stum- 
 bling about in the mud in every direction. These poor 
 beings had come here to enter into a treaty proposed by 
 
412 Life of Audubon, 
 
 the whites ; many of them were young and well looking, 
 and with far less decorations than I have seen before on 
 such occasions. The chief of the tribe is an old and cor- 
 pulent man. - '■ -\--.'>^':--.~^J:i^\^ ^^-^-■\-' ^^*.^:.- >\^^-'-. - ^-^i:- 
 
 " We walked towards the President's house, accom- 
 panied by the secretary of the nav}', and as soon as we 
 rose above the bank, we saw before us a level of far-ex- 
 tending prairie, destitute of timber, and rather poor soil. 
 Houses half finished, and most of them without roofs, 
 tents, and a libert}^ pole, with the capitol, were all exhib- 
 ited to our view at once. We approached the President's 
 mansion, however, wading through water above our 
 ankles. This abode of President Houston is a small log- 
 house, consisting of two rooms, and a passage through, 
 after the Southern fashion. The moment we stepped 
 over the threshold, on the right hand of the passage we 
 found ourselves ushered into what in other countries 
 would be called the ante-chamber ; the ground floor how- 
 ever was muddy and filthy, a large fire was burning, a 
 small table covered with paper and writing materials, 
 was in the centre, camp-beds, trunks, and different ma- 
 terials, were strewed around the room. We were at once 
 presented to several members of the cabinet, some of 
 whom bore the stamp of men of intellectual ability, sim- 
 ple though bold, in their general appearance. Here we 
 were presented to Mr. Crawford, an agent of the British 
 Minister to Mexico, who has come here on some secret 
 mission. v 
 
 " The President was engaged in the opposite room on 
 national business, and we could not see him for some 
 time. Meanwhile we amused ourselves by walking to the 
 capitol, which was yet without a roof, and the floors, 
 benches, and tables of both houses of Congress were as 
 well saturated with water as our clothes had been in the 
 morning. Being invited by one of the great men of the 
 
President Sam, Houston. 413 
 
 place to enter a booth to take a drink of grog with hinij 
 we did so ; but I was rather surprised that he offered his 
 name, instead of the cash to the bar-keeper. - 
 
 " We first caught sight of President Houston as he 
 ivalked from one of the grog-shops, where he had been to 
 prevent the sale of ardent spirits. He was on his way to 
 his house, and wore a large gray coarse hat ; and the 
 bulk of his figure reminded me of the appearance of Gen- 
 eral Hopkins of Virginia, for like him he is upwards of 
 six feet high, and strong in proportion. But I observ^ed 
 a scowl in the expression of his eyes, that was forbidding 
 and disagreeable. We reached his abode before him, but 
 he soon came, and we were presented to his excellency. 
 He was dressed in a fancy velvet coat, and trowsers 
 trimmed with broad gold lace ; around his neck was tied 
 a cravat somewhat in the style of seventy-six. He re- 
 ceived us kindly, was desirous of retaining us for awhile, 
 and offered us every facility within his power. He at 
 once removed us from the ante-room to his private cham- 
 ber, which by the way was not much cleaner than the 
 former. We were severally introduced by him to the 
 different members of his cabinet and staff, and at once 
 asked to drink grog w^ith him, which we did, wishing suc- 
 cess to his new republic. Our talk was short ; but the 
 impression which was made on my mind at the time by 
 himself, his officers, and his place of abode, can never be 
 forgotten. 
 
 " We returned to our boat through a melee of Indians 
 and blackguards of all sorts. In giving a last glance back 
 we once more noticed a number of horses rambling about 
 the grounds, or tied beneath the few trees that have been 
 spared by the axe. We also saw a liberty pole, erected 
 on the anniversary of the battle of San Jacinto, on the 
 twent}'-first of last April, and were informed that a brave 
 tar, who rigged the Texan flag on that occasion, had been 
 
414 J-'if^ of Audubon, 
 
 personally rewarded by President Houston, with a town 
 lot, a doubloon, and the privilege of keeping a ferry 
 across the Buffalo Bayou at the town, where the bayou 
 forks diverge in opposite directions. ? _ 
 
 ^'' May 16, Departed for New Washington, where we 
 received kind attentions from Col. James Morgan ; cross- 
 ed San Jacinto Bay to the Campbell, and the next day 
 dropped down to Galveston. 
 
 '^ May 18. Left the bar of Galveston, having on board 
 Mr. Crawford, British Consul at Tampico, and a Mr. Al- 
 len of New Orleans. 
 
 " May 24. Arrived at the S. W. Pass, and proceeded 
 to the Balize, and thence to New Orleans, where we ar- 
 rived in three days. 
 
 ^^ New Orleans^ May 28. Breakfast with Ex-Governor 
 Roman and his delightful family, with Mr. Edward Har- 
 ris." . -. ^ „--.-= -^ ^- . . , 
 
 Audubon suffered greatly during this expedition to 
 Texas, and lost tv/elve pounds in weight. He found New 
 Orleans nearly deserted, and dull, and the ^veather op- 
 pressively hot and disagreeable. 
 
 " May 31. We bid adieu to our Nev/ Orleans friends, 
 leaving in their care for shipment our collections, cloth- 
 ing, and dog Dash for Mr. W. Bakewell. Harris went up 
 the river, and we crossed to Mobile in the steamer Swan, 
 paying fare twelve dollars each, and making the trip of 
 one hundred and fifty miles in twenty-one hours. If New 
 Orleans appeared prostrated, Mobile, seemed quite dead. 
 We left in the afternoon for Stockton, Alabama, forty-five 
 miles distant, where we were placed in a cart, and tum- 
 bled and tossed for one hundred and sixty-five miles to 
 Montgomery ; fare twenty-three dollars each, miserable 
 road and rascally fare. At Montgomery we took the 
 mail coach, and were much relieved ; fare to Columbus 
 twenty-six dollars each. Our travelling companions were 
 
Settles in New York City, 415 
 
 without interest, the weather was suffocating, and the 
 roads dirty and very rough ; we made but three miles an 
 hour for the whole journey, walking up the hills, and gal- 
 loping down them to Augusta, and paying a fare of thir- 
 teen dollars and fifty cents each, and thence by rail to 
 Charleston for six dollars and seventy-five cents each, 
 distance one hundred and thirty-six miles, and making 
 eight and a half days from New Orleans." 
 
 After remaining a short time in Charleston, Audubon 
 returned to New York, and in the latter part of the sum- 
 mer sailed for Liverpool. After landing there and greet- 
 ing his friends, he went to London, taking the new 
 drawings he had made to Mr. Havell, and then, after 
 spending a few days with his family, departed for Edin- 
 burgh. There he went diligently to work in preparing 
 the fourth volume of his " Ornithological Biography " for 
 the press. The work held him until the Fall of 1838, and 
 was published in November of that year. His family 
 now joined him in Edinburgh, and the winter was devo- 
 ted to finishing the drawings for the completion of his 
 great volume on the " Birds of America," and also to pre- 
 paring his fifth volume of the " Ornithological Biography," 
 which was published in Edinburgh in May, 1839. 
 
 In the Fall of 1839 he returned to America with his 
 family, and settled in New York city, there to spend the 
 remainder of his days. But he did not intend to be idle, 
 but immediately began preparing his last great ornitho- 
 logical work, which is a copy of his original English pub- 
 lication, with the figures reduced and lithographed, in 
 seven octavo volumes. The first volume was published 
 within a little more than a year after his return, two more 
 volumes appeared in 1842, another in 1843, while he was 
 absent on his expedition to the Yellow-stone River, and 
 the last one after his return. 
 
 Besides all this labor, he devoted occasional spare 
 
41 6 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 hours to improving and increasing the drawings of the 
 quadrupeds of North America, which he had begun some 
 years before in connection with the Rev. John Bachman 
 of South Carolina. 
 
 The early pages of the journal show that Audubon 
 had been anxious to visit the great interior valley of the 
 Mississippi and the Rocky Mountains ever since he be- 
 gan to devote his time exclusively to ornithological re- 
 search ; and twenty years before his return to America, 
 he had traced out the course he wished to go. During 
 all those years of unremitting toil, the desire and hope of 
 seeing the Great Plains and the Rocky Mountains never 
 deserted him. But after he had resolved to complete and 
 publish his work on the Quadrupeds of America, he felt 
 that it would be impossible for him to do it satisfactorily 
 until he had seen with his own eyes the buffaloes of the 
 plains, and other animals of those regions whose habits 
 had never been described. 
 
 Much of his earthly work was done ; the infirmities 
 of age were stealing upon him ; and the Journal often 
 alludes to the fact that his physical powers were not 
 equal to his mental longings. He seems to have de- 
 termined therefore to make an effort to accomplish the 
 long-cherished desire of his heart, to look on the magnifi- 
 cent scenery of the prairies and mountains of the West, 
 and to gather the materials for his Quadrupeds, which he 
 knew would probably be his last work on earth. So as 
 soon as he had settled his family at Minnie's land, where 
 he invested all the money he had made by his publica- 
 tions up to that date, he prepared at once for his last 
 great journey, the grandest of all his journeys, to the Wes- 
 - tern Wilderness. , . , . .. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV, 
 
 Excursion to the Great IVestern Prairies — U^ the Missouri — Rivef 
 Pictures — Indians — The Mandans — The ^^ Medicine Lodze''''— 
 Ricaree Indians — Fort Union — Arrival at Yellow Stone River — 
 Buffalo Hunt — Sfnall-Pox among the Indians — Return to Nezv 
 York, 
 
 ARCH w^ 1S43. Left New York this morning 
 with my son Victor, on an expedition to the Yel- 
 low-stone River, and regions adjacent and un- 
 known, undertaken for the sake of oiir work on the * Quad- 
 rupeds of North America,' and arrived in Philadelphia 
 late in the evening. 
 
 " As we landed, a tall, robust-looking man, tapped me 
 on the shoulder, whom I discovered in the dim darkness 
 to be my friend, Jedediah Irish, of the Great Pine Swamp. 
 I also met my friend, Edward Harris, who, besides John 
 G. Bell, Isaac Sprague, and Lewis Squires, were to ac- 
 company me on tliis long campaign. The next morning 
 we left for Baltimore, and Victor returned home to Min- 
 nie's Land." ' 
 
 There are four folio volumes of MS. containing a de- 
 tailed account of that whole journey, which lasted about 
 eight months. But as most of the journals were inwoven 
 into the three volumes on the " Quadrupeds of North 
 America," which were published in the years 1846, 185 1, 
 and 1854, we give but an outline of the journey, and the 
 gleanings of such incidents as were not used in those 
 volumes. 
 
 Audubon and his party crossed the Alleghany Moun- 
 18* 
 
41 8 ' Life of Audubon, 
 
 tains to Wheeling, went from there to Cincinncti and St 
 Louis by steamers, where they arrived on tlie 28th of 
 March. From thence they ascended the Missouri River 
 to Jefferson City, the capital of the State, about one hun- 
 dred and seventy miles from St. Louis. There they saw 
 nothing worthy of note except the State House and Peni- 
 tentiary. 
 
 . The town was a poor-looking place, and the neighbor- 
 ing country poor and broken ; but the public buildings 
 commanded a fine view up and down the river. " Yester- 
 day," says the Journal, " we passed many long lines of 
 elevated banks, ornamented by stupendous rocks of lime- 
 stone, having many curious holes, into which we saw vul- 
 tures and eagles enter towards evening. 
 
 " As we ascended the river the strength of the current 
 increased, and in some places we stemmed it with diffi- 
 culty ; and near Willow Islands it ran so rapidly, that we 
 found ourselves going down stream, and were compelled 
 to make fast to the shore. 
 
 ■ ^^ March 2,0, As we sail along the shores, I notice 
 young willows and cotton-trees half submerged by the 
 freshet, waving to and fro, as if trembling at the rage of 
 the rushing water, and in fear of being destroyed by it ; 
 and it really seemed as if the mighty current was going 
 to overwhelm in its rage all that the Creator had lavished 
 on its luxuriant shore. The banks are falling in and tak- 
 ing thousands of trees, and the current is bearing them 
 away from the places where they have stood and grown 
 for ages. It is an awful exemplification of the course of 
 Nature, where all is conflict between life and death. 
 
 ^^ March 31. As we sail up the river, squatters and 
 planters are seen abandoning their dwellings, which the 
 water is overflowing, and making towards the highlands, 
 that are from one to four miles inland. AVe passed two 
 houses filled with women and children, entirely surround- 
 
Fort Leavenworth, 419 
 
 ed by water ; the whole place was under water, and all 
 around was a picture of utter desolation. The men had 
 gone to seek assistance, and I was grieved that our cap- 
 tain did not offer to render them any ; the banks kept on 
 falling in, and precipitating majestic trees into the devour- 
 ing current. 
 
 ''^May 2. We are now three hundred and eighty miles 
 from St. Louis, and are landing freight and traders for 
 Santa Fe. 
 
 " May 3. We reached Fort Leavenworth this morning. 
 The garrison here is on a fine elevation, commanding a 
 good view of the river above and below for a consider- 
 able distance. Leaving here, we entered the real Indian 
 country on the west side of the river ; for the State of 
 Missouri, by the purchase of the Platte River country, 
 continues for two kundred and fift\' miles farther ; and 
 here only are any settlements of white inhabitants. 
 
 " May 5. After grounding on sand-bars, and contend- 
 ing against head-winds and currents, we reached the 
 Black Snake Hills settlement, w^hich is a delightful site 
 for a populous city that will be here some fifty years 
 hence. The hills are two hundred feet above the level 
 of the river, and slope down gently on the opposite side 
 to the beautiful prairies, that extend over thousands of 
 acres of the richest land imaginable. Here the general 
 aspect of the river greatly changes ; it becomes more 
 crooked, and filled with naked sand-bars, from which the 
 wind whirls the sand in every direction. We passed 
 through a narrow and swift chute, which, in the time of 
 high water, must be extremely difficult to ascend. • ' 
 
 " May 6. AVe fastened our boat to the edge of a beau- 
 tiful prairie, to land freight and passengers. Here eighty 
 Indians came to visit us, some on foot and some on horse- 
 back, generally riding double, on skins and Spanish sad- 
 dles; some squaws rode, and rode well. We landed 
 
420 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 some Indians here, who came as passengers with us, and 
 I noticed that when they joined their relatives and friends, 
 they neither shook hands nor exchanged any congratula- 
 tions. I saw no emotion, nothing to corroborate Mr. 
 Catlin's views of savage life. 
 
 " When the boat started, all these Indians followed us 
 along the shore, running on foot, and galloping on horse- 
 back to keep up with us. When we approached the next 
 landing, I saw some of these poor creatures perched on 
 the neighboring banks, while others crowded down to oui 
 landing-place. They belonged to the Iowa and Fox In- 
 dians : the two tribes number about twelve thousand, and 
 their country extends for seventy miles up the river. 
 
 " May 8. To-day we passed the boundary of Missouri, 
 and the country consists of prairies extending back to the 
 inland hills. 
 
 " May 9. This evening we arrived at the famous set- 
 tlement of Belle Vue, where the Indian agent, or custom- 
 house officer, as he might better be called, resides. Here 
 a large pack of rascally-looking, dirty, and half-star\'ed 
 Indians awaited our arrival j and here we paid for five 
 cords of wood, with five tin cups of sugar, and three cups 
 of coffee, all worth twenty-five cents at St. Louis. And 
 we saw here the first plowed ground we had seen since 
 leaving the settlements near St. Louis. : ■ •. r . 
 . ^^ May 10. Arrived at Fort Croghan, named after an 
 old friend of that name, with whom I hunted raccoons on 
 his father's plantation in Kentucky, thirty-five years be- 
 fore. His father and mine were well acquainted, and 
 fought together with the great General Washington and 
 Lafayette, in the Revolutionary War against * Merry Eng- 
 land.* The parade-ground here had been four feet under 
 water in the late fi-eshet. > ; - 
 
 ^^ May II. The officers of this post last July were 
 nearly destitute of provisions, and they sent off twenty 
 
At Council Bluffs, 421 
 
 dragoons and twenty Indians on a buffalo hunt ; and 
 within eighty miles of the fort, they killed fifty-one buffa- 
 loes, one hundred and four deer, and ten elks. 
 
 " We were told that the Pottowatomie Indians were for- 
 merly a warlike people, but recently their enemies, the 
 Sioux, have frequently killed them, when they met them 
 on hunting excursions, and that they have become quite 
 cowardly, which is a great change in their character. 
 
 " We cast off our lines from the shore at twelve 
 o'clock, and by sunset reached the Council Bluffs, where 
 the river-bed is utterly changed, though that called the Old 
 Missouri is now visible. These Bluffs rise from a truly 
 beautiful bank about forty feet above the river, and slope 
 down into as beautiful a prairie to the hills in the rear, 
 which render the scenery very fine and very remarkable. 
 
 ^^ May 12. We have arrived at the most crooked part 
 of the river yet seen, the shores on both sides are lower, 
 the hills are more distant, and the intervening plains are 
 more or less covered \\i\\\ water. We passed the Black- 
 bird Hills, where a famous Indian chief of this name was 
 buried, and his horse buried alive with him at his request. 
 
 ^^ May 13. To-day we passed some beautiful bluffs, 
 composed of a fine white sandstone, of a soft texture, but 
 beautiful to the eye, and covered with cedars. We saw 
 also many fine prairies ; and the bottom lands appeared 
 to be of an extremely rich soil. Indians hailed us along 
 the shore, but no notice was taken of them : they follow- 
 ed us to the next landing, and boarded us ; but our cap- 
 tain hates them, and they go away wdthout a chew of to- 
 bacco, and I pity the poor creatures with all my heart. 
 
 *-' This evening we came to the Burial-ground Bluff; 
 so called by the ever-memorable expedition of Lewis and 
 Clark, because here they buried Sergeant Floyd, as they 
 were on the way to the Pacific Ocean across the Rocky 
 Mountains. The prairies are now more frequent and more 
 
422 Life of Audubon, 
 
 elevated ; and we have seen more evergreens to-day tlian 
 in the two preceding weeks. 
 
 " We have entered the mouth of the Big Sioux River, 
 which is a clear stream, abounding with fish : on one of 
 its branches is found the famous red clay of which the 
 Indians make their calumets. We saw on the banks of 
 the river several Indian canoe frames, formed of bent 
 sticks made into a circle, the edges fastened together by a 
 long pole or stick, with anotlier one in the bottom, hold- 
 ing the frame like the inner keel of a boat. Outside of 
 this frame the Indians stretch a buffalo-skin with the hair 
 on, and it is said to make a safe boat to convey two or 
 three persons, even when the current is rapid. Here, as 
 well as on the shores of the Mississippi and Missouri, tlie 
 land along the river banks is higher than further inland ; 
 tangled brushwood and tall reeds grow along the margins, 
 while the prairies abound with mud and muddy water. 
 Willows are plent}*, and the general aspect of the country 
 is pleasing. 
 
 " May 1 6. Came to an Indian log-cabin, which had a 
 fence enclosure around it. Passed several dead buffaloes 
 floating down the stream. A few hundred miles above 
 here the river is confined between high steep bluffs, many 
 of them nearly perpendicular, and impossible for the buf- 
 falo to climb : when they have leaped or fallen down 
 these, they try to ascend them or swim to the opposite 
 shore, which is equally difficult ; but unable to ascend 
 them, they fail back time and again until they are ex- 
 hausted j and at last, getting into the current, are borne 
 away and drowned : hundreds thus perish every year, and 
 their swollen and putrid bodies have been seen floating as 
 low down as St. Louis. The Indians along shore watch 
 for these carcasses, and no matter how putrid they are, if 
 the * hump ' is fat, they drag them ashore and cut it out 
 for food." 
 
Indian Life. 423 
 
 Many pages of the Journal describe the daily inci 
 dents of the next few weeks, in which the party were slow 
 ]y pushing their way up the river, and making occasional 
 excursions from the boat in pursuit of the objects of their 
 journey. The country was inundated in many places, 
 and from the tops of the neighboring hills it is repre- 
 sented as about equally divided between land and water ; 
 on the eastern side of the river the flat prairies had be- 
 come great lakes. And they noticed that the floating ice 
 had cut the trees on the banks of the river as high as 
 the shoulder of a man. Barges from above passed them, 
 bringing down the spoils of the hunters, and one from St. 
 Pierre had ten thousand buffalo-robes on board. The 
 men reported that the country above was filled with buf- 
 faloes, and the shores of the river were covered with 
 the dead bodies of old and young ones. 
 
 As they ascended they found the river more shallow 
 in some parts, and again opening into broad places like 
 great lagoons. They passed Vermillion River, a small 
 stream running out of muddy banks filled with willows. 
 At a landing near there, a man told them that a hunter had 
 recently killed an Indian chief near the foot of the Rocky 
 Mountains, and that it would be dangerous for white men 
 tc visit that region. 
 
 They also found on the river's bank the plant called 
 the white apple, much used by the Indians for food, 
 which they dr}'-, pound, and make into mash. It is more 
 of a potato than apple, for it grows six inches under 
 ground, is about the size of a hen's egg, covered with a 
 dark-brown woody hard skin the sixteenth of an inch 
 thick : the fruit is easily drawn from the skin, and is of a 
 whitish color. It has no flov/ers, the roots were woody, 
 leaves ovate and attached in fives. AVhen dry, the apple 
 is hard as wood, and has to be pounded for use. 
 
 The country grew poorer the farther they ascended 
 
4^4 Life of Audubon, 
 
 the river ; and the bluffs showed traces of iron, sulphur, 
 and magnesia. 
 
 ^^ May 28. We now see buffaloes every day: they 
 are extremely poor, but they are sporting among them- 
 selves, beating and tearing up the earth. They have 
 roads to the river, along which they go and come for wa- 
 ter. ... . . . V , _ 
 
 " To-day some Indians hailed us from the shore, and 
 when the captain refused to stop for them, they began fir- 
 ing at us with rifles : several of the balls hit our vessel, 
 and one passed through the pantaloons of a Scotch pas- 
 senger. These rascals belong to a party of the Santeo 
 tribe, which range across the country from the Missouri 
 to the Mississippi River. 
 
 *^ Afay 29. This morning a part}* of Indians came on 
 board the boat at a landing-place, and it was some hours 
 before we could get rid of these beggars by trade. Both 
 banks of the river were covered with buffaloes, as far as 
 the eye could see ; and although many of them w^ere near 
 the water, they did not move until we were close upon 
 them, and those at the distance of half a mile kept on 
 quietly grazing. We saw several buffaloes and one large 
 gray w^olf swimming across the river only a short distance 
 ahead of us. 
 
 " The prairies appear better now, and the grass looks 
 green, and the poor buffaloes, of which we have seen more 
 than two thousand this morning, will soon grow fat. 
 
 ^^ May 30. We reached Fort George this morning, 
 which is called *The Station of the Opjoosition Line.' 
 We saw some Indians, and a. few lodges on the ^Agi^ of 
 the prairie, and sundry bales of buffalo-robes were taken 
 aboard. Major Hamilton is acting Indian Agent during 
 the absence of Major Crisp. We are a long way beyond 
 the reach of civil law, and they settle disputes here with 
 sword and pistol. The major pointed to an island where 
 
At St. Pierre, 425 
 
 Mr. , a New Yorker belonging- to the opposition line. 
 
 killed two white men recently, and shot two others, who 
 were miserable miscreants. 
 
 " We are yet thirty miles below St. Pierre, and do not 
 expect to reach it until to-morrow. Indians were seen 
 along both sides of the riverj many trade at this post and 
 at St. Pierre ; at the latter I am told there are five hun- 
 dred lodges. The Indian dogs resemble the wolves so 
 much that I should readily mistake the one for the other 
 were I to meet them in the woods. 
 
 " Soon after leaving Fort George, we sounded and 
 found only three and a half feet of water, and, the captain 
 gave orders to * tie up,' and we started on a w^alk for St. 
 Pierre. On reaching the camp, we found it a strongly- 
 built low log-cabin, in which was a Mr. Cutting, who had 
 met my son Victor in Cuba. Yesterday, while he ^.as' 
 on a buffalo-hunt, a cow hooked his horse, and threw him 
 about twenty feet, and injured his ankle. This he 
 thought remarkable, as the cow bad not been wounded. 
 He showed me a petrified head of a wolf, which I dis- 
 covered to be not a wolf's but a beaver's. There were 
 fifteen lodges here, and a great number of squaws and 
 half-breed children ; and these are accounted for by the 
 fact that every clerk and agent has his Indian wife as she 
 is called. 
 
 ^ime I. The party had arrived at St. Pierre, and from 
 thence the Omega, in which they had made their trip, was 
 expected to return to St. Louis. The Journal continues : 
 '' I am somewhat surprised that Sprague asked me to al- 
 low him to return in the Omega. I told him he was at 
 liberty to do so of course if he desired it, though it v;ill 
 cause me double the labor I expected to have. Had I 
 known this before leaving New York, I could have had 
 any number of young artists, who would have been glad 
 to have accompanied and remained with me to the end of 
 the expedition. 
 
426 Life of Audubon, 
 
 " yune 2. We have left St Pierre and are going on up 
 the river, deeper and deeper in the wilderness. We 
 passed the Cheyenne River, v/hich is quite a large 
 stream." • * ^"-^ - ' • 
 
 Audubon hired a hunter named Alexis Bouibarde at 
 St. Pierre to accompany him to the Yellow-stone River, 
 and thus describes him : ^ He is a first-rate hunter, pow- 
 erfully built, is a half-breed, and wears his hair loose 
 about his head and shoulders, as I formerly did. . . .' 
 
 " I am now astonished at the poverty of the bluffs 
 we pass : there are no more of the beautiful limestone 
 formations which we saw below, but they all appear to 
 be poor and crumbling clay, dry and hard now, but soft 
 and sticky whenever it rains. The cedars in the ravines, 
 which below were fine and thrifty, are generally dead or 
 dying, probably owing to their long inundation. To-day 
 we^ have made r>ixty miles ; the country is much pdorer 
 than any we have passed below, and the sand-bars are 
 much more intricate. 
 
 " ^une 4. The country we have seen to-day is a little 
 better than what we saw yesterday. We passed the old 
 Riccaree village, where General Ashley was beaten by 
 the Indians, and lost eighteei of his men, with the very 
 weapons and ammunition he had sold the Indians, 
 against the remonstrances of his friends and the inter- 
 preter. It is said that it proved fortunate for him, for he 
 turned his course in another direction, where he pur- 
 chased one hundred packs of beaver-skins for a mere song. 
 
 " Passed the Square Hills, so called because they are 
 more level and less rounded than the majority of the 
 hills. From the boat the country looks as if we were get- 
 ting above the line of vegetation ; the flowers are scarce, 
 and the oaks have hardly any leaves on them. We are 
 now sixteen miles below the Mandan village, and hope 
 to reach there to-morrow. ,' 
 
A ^^ Medicine'' Lodge, 427 
 
 " Jtme 7. We are now at Fort Clark and the Mandan 
 village ; a salute was fired from the Fort in honor of our 
 arrival, and we answered it. The Fort is situated on a 
 high bank, quite a hill ; here the Mandans have their 
 mud huts, which are not very picturesque, and a few en- 
 closed fields, where they grow corn, pmnpkins, and 
 beans. We saw more Indians here than at any other 
 place since we left St. Louis ; they have about one hun- 
 dred huts, and they resemble the potato winter-houses 
 in our Southern and Eastern States. As we approached 
 the shore, every article that could be taken conveniently 
 was removed from the deck and put under lock and key, 
 and all the cabin-doors were closed. The captain told 
 me that last year, when he was here, the Indians stole 
 his cap, shot-pouch, hone, and such like things. These peo- 
 ple appeared very miserable ; as we approached the land- 
 ing they stood shivering in the fain, w^rapped in buffalo- 
 robes and red blankets ; some of them were curiously be- 
 smeared with mud. They came on board, and several 
 shook me by the hand, but their hands had a clammi- 
 ness that was quite repulsive ; their legs were naked, feet 
 covered with mud ; and they stared at me with apparent 
 curiosity because of my long beard, which also attracted 
 the Indians at St. Pierre. It is estimated that there axe 
 three thousand men, women, and children, who cram 
 themselves into these miserable houses in winter ; they 
 are said to be the ne plus ultra of tliieves, and most of the 
 women are destitute of virtue. 
 
 "At the request of the interpreter, one of the Indians 
 took me into the village to see the Medicine lodge. I 
 followed my guide through mud and mire to a large hut, 
 built like all the rest, but measuring twenty-three yards 
 in diameter, with a large square opening in the centre of 
 the roof sLx feet long by four feet in width. We entered 
 this curiosity-shop by pushing aside an elk-skin stretched 
 
428 Life of Auduhon, 
 
 on four sticks. Among the medicines I saw a number of 
 calabooses, eight or ten skulls of otters, two large buffalo- 
 skulls with the horns on, some sticks, and other magical 
 implements, with the use of which no one but a great 
 Medicine is acquainted. There lay crouched on the floor 
 a lousy Indian, wrapped in a dirty blanket, with nothing 
 but his head sticking out : the guide spoke to him, but 
 he made no reply. At the foot of one of the props that 
 support this large house lay a parcel, which I took for a 
 bundle of buffalo-robes, but directly it moved, and the 
 emaciated body of a poor blind Indian crept out of it ; 
 he was shrivelled, and the guide made signs that he was 
 about to die. We shook hands with him, and he pressed 
 mine, as if glad of the sympathy of even a stranger ; he 
 had a pipe and tobacco-box, and soon lay down again. 
 As we left this ^oode of mysteries, I told the guide I was 
 anxious to see the inside of one of their common dwell- 
 ings, and he led us through the mud to his own lodge, 
 which had an entrance like the other. All the lodges 
 have a sort of portico that leads to the door, and on the 
 top of most of them I observed skulls of buffaloes. This 
 lodge contained the wife and children of the guide and 
 another man, whom I took for his son-in-law ; all these, 
 except the man, were in the outer lodge, squatting on the 
 ground, and the children skulked out of the way as we 
 approached. Nearly equi-distant from each other were a 
 kind of berths, raised two feet above the ground, made of 
 leather, and with square apertures for the sleepers. The 
 man of whom I have spoken was lying down in one of 
 these. I walked up to him, and afler disturbing his seem- 
 ingly happy slumbers, shook his hand, and he made signs 
 for me to sit down. I did so, and he arose, and squatted 
 himself near us ; and taking a large spoon made of a 
 buffalo's horn, handed it to a young girl, who brought a 
 large wooden bowl filled with pemmican mixed with corn 
 
jin Indian Council, 429 
 
 and some other stuff; I ate a mouthful of it, and found 
 it quite palatable. Both lodges were alike dirty with wa« 
 ter and mud ; but I am told that in dry times they are kept 
 more cleanly. A round shallow hole was in the centre, 
 and a chain hung from above near the fire, and on this 
 they hang their meat and cook. On leaving I gave our 
 guide a small piece of tobacco, and he seemed well pleas- 
 ed, but followed us on board the boat : and as he passed 
 my room, and saw my specimens of stuffed animals and 
 birds, manifested some curiosity to see them. 
 
 " The general appearance of the fort is poor, and the 
 country around is overgrown with the weed called * family 
 quarter.' And I saw nothmg here corresponding to the 
 poetical descriptions of writers who make their clay-banks 
 enchanted castles, and this wretched savage life a thing 
 to b'e desife*d, even by the most happy civilized men. 
 ¥ These Indians are mostly Ricarees ; they are tall, lank, 
 and redder than most others that I have seen, but they 
 are all miserable-looking and dirty. They occupy the 
 village where the powerful tribe of Mandans once lived, 
 but which were swept away by the dreadful scourge of the 
 small-pox; only twelve or fifteen families survive, and 
 they removed three miles up the river. 
 
 " yune 8. To-day we have had a famous Indian coun- 
 cil on board our boat. It consisted of thirt}'-four Indians 
 of the first class ; they squatted on their rumps on both 
 sides of our long cabin, and received refreshments of 
 coffee and ship-bread, and I assisted in doing this duty ; 
 and a box of tobacco was then opened and placed on the 
 V table ; the captain then made a speech to them, and one 
 t Indian interpreted it to the others. They frequently ex- 
 I pressed their approbation by grunting, and were evident- 
 I ly much pleased. Two Indians came in, dressed in blue 
 ^ uniforms, with epaulettes on their shoulders, and feathers 
 f in their caps, and with ornamented mocassins and leg- 
 
430 Life of Auduhon. ' 
 
 gings : these were the braves 'of the trlbe^ and they did 
 not grunt or shake hands with any of us. ' 
 
 " As soon as the tobacco was distributed, the whole 
 company rose simultaneously, and we shook hands with 
 each one, and gladly bid them good riddance. The two 
 braves waited until all the others were on shore, and then 
 retired majestically as they had entered, not shaking 
 hands even with the captain, who had entertained them 
 and made the speech. This is a ceremony which takes 
 place yearly as the Company's boat goes up. Each In- 
 dian carried away about two pounds of tobacco. Two 
 of the Indians who distributed the tobacco, and were of 
 the highest rank, were nearly naked, and one by my side 
 had only a clout and one legging on. They are now all 
 gone but one, who goes with us to the Yellow- stone River. 
 
 "This morning the thermometer stood at 37°. We 
 have passed the village of the poor Mandans, and of the 
 Grosventres, to-day: the latter is cut off from the river 
 by an enormous sand-bar, now covered with willows. We 
 saw a few Indian corn-fields ; the plants were sickly-look- 
 ing, and about two inches high. The prairies are very 
 extensive, stretching away to the hills, and there are deep 
 ravines in them filled with water sufficiently saline to be 
 used by the Indians for seasoning their food. 
 
 ^^ June 13. Fort Union. Thermometer 53°, 72°, 6Z°, 
 We arrived here to-day, and have made the shortest trip 
 from St. Louis on record, just forty-eight days. We have 
 landed our effects, and established ourselves in a log- 
 house, with one room and one window, intending to spend 
 three weeks here before launching into the wilderness. 
 
 " There has been no ardent spirits sold here for two 
 years, and the result is, the Indians are more peaceable 
 than formerly. On the plains we saw the mounds where 
 many Indians had been buried who died here of the 
 small-pox. There were apparently several bodies in each 
 
Small-pox Among the Indians, 43 1 
 
 mound, and a buffalo's skull was put over each one : this 
 relic has some superstitious value' in the estimation of 
 these poor ignorant creatures. 
 
 " Our boat has been thronged with these dirty savages 
 ever since we fastened her to the landing, and it is with 
 difficulty we can keep them from our rooms. All around 
 the village the filth is beyond description, and the sights 
 daily seen will not bear recording ; they have dispelled 
 all the romance of Indian life I ever had, and I am satis- 
 fied that all the poetry about Indians is contained in 
 books j there certainly is none in their wild life in the 
 woods. The captain of our vessel told me that on his 
 first trip here in a steamer, the Indians called her a great 
 * Medicine,' supposed that he fed her with whisky, and ask- 
 ed, how much he gave her at a time. To which he repli- 
 ed, ^ a whole barrel.'" — 
 
 It appears that the Omega did not, as originally in- 
 tended, return from St. Pierre, but kept on to the Yellow- 
 stone River. There Audubon bade the captain adieu, 
 with much regret, and wrote him a complimentary letter, 
 which all the passengers signed. 
 
 " june 14. To-day, Mr. Chouteau, and !Mr. Murray, a 
 Scotchman, arrived from the Crow Indian nation. They 
 told me the snow was yet three feet deep, and quite 
 abundant near the mountains. I learned to-day, that the 
 Prince of Canino, with his secretary and bird-stuffer, oc- 
 cupied the rooms I now have, for two months." 
 
 The interval between this and the 20th of June was 
 employed in various excursions and exciting hunts after 
 the buffalo. 
 
 yune 20. A stormy day prevents out-door excursions, 
 and Audubon employs it in recording in his Journal an 
 account of the ravages of the small-pox among the Indi- 
 ans, which he received from an eye-witness. The Man- 
 dans and Ricarees suffered most, though many Sioux and 
 Blackfoot Indians perish'"'^ with th*^^ 
 
432 Life of Audubon, 
 
 " Early in the spring of 1837 the steamer Assiniboine 
 arrived at Fort Clark, with several cases of small-pox on 
 board. There an Indian stole a blanket belonging to a 
 watchman on the boat_, who was then at the point of death, 
 and took it away to sow the seeds of this disease among 
 his tribe, which caused his ow^n death and the death of 
 thousands of his nation. When it was known that he 
 had taken it, a benevolent person on the boat went to one 
 of the chiefs, told him the fatal consequences which would 
 follow, and offered to give a new blanket and a reward 
 besides if he would have it returned ; but suspicion, fear, 
 or shame prevented the man from giving it up, and the 
 pestilence broke out and began to spread among the 
 Mandans at first, to which nation the thief belonged. 
 
 *' Most of the Indians were distant eighty miles at 
 that time killing buffaloes and preparing their winter food ; 
 and the whites sent an express begging them not to re- 
 turn to their villages, and telling them w'hat would be the 
 fatal consequences. The Indians sent back word that 
 *:heir corn was suffering to be worked, and that they would 
 return and face the danger, which they thought was fab- 
 ulous. Word was again sent them that certaiii destruc- 
 tion would attend their return ; but it was all in vain, come 
 back they would, and come back they did, and the plague 
 began in its most malignant form, their habits and im- 
 proper food making them a ready prey, and a few hours 
 sometimes terminating the loathsome disease by death. 
 
 " The Mandans were enraged because at first it w^as 
 confined to them, and they supposed the whites had 
 caused it, and saved themselves and the Ricarees from 
 the pestilence ; and they threatened the lives of all the 
 former, supposing they had a medicine to prevent it, 
 which they would not give them. But by-and-by Rica 
 rees and whites died also; the disease increased ii) 
 malignity — hundreds died daily, and their bodies were 
 
Extermination of the Mandans, 433 
 
 thrown beneath the bluffs, and created an intolerable 
 stench, which added to its fatality. Men shot each other 
 when they found they were attacked : one man killed his 
 wife and children, and then loaded his gun and placing 
 the muzzle in his mouth, touched the trigger with his toe 
 and blew out his own brains. One young chief made his 
 friends dig a grave for him, and putting on his war-robes, 
 he tottered out to it, singing his death-song, and jumping 
 in, cut his body nearly in two with a knife, and was bu- 
 ried there ; and others committed suicide after they were 
 attacked, rather than die of the loathsome disease. The 
 annals of pestilence do not furnish another such example 
 of horrors, or where the mortality was so great in propor- 
 tion to the population : of the once powerful tribe of Man- 
 dans only twenty-seven persons remained, and one hun- 
 dred and fifty thousand persons perished, and the details 
 are too horrible to relate. Added to this, the few whites 
 were alarmed lest the Indians should massacre them as 
 the cause of the evil. One influential chief attempted to 
 instigate the Indians to kill all the whites, but he was him- 
 self seized and died before his plans were matured ; but 
 in his last moments he confessed his wickedness, and ex- 
 pressed sorrow for it, and begged that his body might be 
 laid before the gate of the fort until it was buried, with 
 the superstitious belief that if this were done the white 
 man would a.lways think of him and forgive his meditated 
 crime." 
 
 The Journal is taken up until the end of July with 
 narratives of almost daily excursions in various directions 
 in search of all kinds of game. Many anecdotes are re- 
 lated of the Indians, their mode of life, habits, and pecu- 
 liarities, most of which have been described by other 
 \vriters, and hardly merit repeating here. Audubon 
 found this region so rich in novelties of the kinds he had 
 19 
 
434 ^\f^ of Audubon, 
 
 come in pursuit of, that he was anxious that some of the 
 young men of his party should remain through the winter. 
 " My regrets that I cannot remain myself are beyond dc 
 scription, and I now sadly regret that I promised you all 
 that I would return home this Fall. 
 
 " August 3. We observed yesterday for the first time 
 that the atmosphere wore the hazy appearance of the In- 
 dian summer. The nights and mornings are cool, and 
 summer clothes are beginning to be uncomfortable." 
 
 This seems to have caused Audubon to begin to think 
 seriously of turning his course homeward. The exposure 
 and hardships he had encountered in this long journey, 
 and on his himting excursions, had made an impression 
 on his health. . ,. 
 
 He began to find that his age was telling on his ener- 
 gy, and that he could not endure hardships as formerly. 
 
 The Journal continues for ten days more, then abruptly 
 ends, from which we conclude that the writer began to 
 make preparations to return home. He reached New 
 York early in October, 1843. 
 
 te!M 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Attdiiboit's Last Days — His Habits — Love of Music — Description 
 cf A udubon Park — His Library and Studio — Visitors — Ex'^ 
 hibition of Drawi^tgs — Mental Gloaming — Loss of Sight -^ 
 The Naturalises Death and Funeral, 
 
 HEN Audubon returned from his expedition to 
 the Western Prairies, he was between sixty and 
 seventy years old, yet he began at once to work 
 with his usual energy and diligence. In a little more than 
 two years appeared the first volume of the " Quadrupeds 
 of North America ; " and this was almost his last work. 
 The second volume was prepared mostly by his sons Vic- 
 tor and John, and was published the year their father 
 died. . ■ - 
 
 The interval of about three years which passed be- 
 tween the time of Audubon's return from the West and 
 the period when his mind began to fail, was a short and 
 sweet twilight to his adventurous career. His habits 
 were simple. Rising almost with the sun, he proceeded 
 to the woods to view his feathered favorites till the hour 
 at which the family usually breakfasted, except when he 
 had drawing to do, when he sat closely to his work. Af- 
 ter breakfast he drew till noon and then took a long walk. 
 At nine in the evening he generally retired. 
 
 He was now an old man, and the fire which had burn- 
 ed so steadily in his heart was going out gradually. Yet 
 there are but few things in his life more interesting and 
 beautiful than the tranquil happiness he enjoyed in the 
 bosom of his family, with his two sons and their children 
 
4-3^ Life of Audubon. 
 
 under the same roof, in the short interval between his re- 
 turn from his last earthly expedition, and the time when 
 his sight and mind began to grow dim, until mental 
 gloaming settled on him, before the night of death came 
 He was very fond of his grandchildren, and used often to 
 take them on his knees and sing to them amusing French 
 songs that he had learned in France when he was a boy. 
 
 His loss of sight was quite peculiar in its character. 
 His glasses enabled him to see objects and to read, long 
 after his eye was unable to find a focus on the canvas. 
 The first day he found that he could not adjust his glass- 
 es so as to enable him to work at the accustomed dis- 
 tance from the object before him, he drooped. Silent, 
 patient sorrow filled his broken heart. From that time 
 his wife never left him ; she read to him, walked with him, 
 and toward the last she fed him. Bread and milk were 
 his breakfast and supper, and at noon he ate a little fish 
 or game, never having eaten animal food if he could 
 avoid it. - - 
 
 He took great pleasure in listening to reading and to 
 the singing of one of his daughters-in-law, who had an 
 exceedingly sweet and well cultivated voice. He found 
 much amusement too in walking through his grounds. 
 His home, on the banks of the Hudson, was just such 
 a spot as a lover of Nature w^ould choose for his closing 
 days. It was a piece of land extending from where the 
 Tenth Avenne now is, to the river ; it contained twenty- 
 four acres, about half of which was high level ground, the 
 other half a gradual slope to the river. There was no 
 Hudson River Railroad then, and the waves dashed 
 upon the sandy beach near the house. From a little pro- 
 jection called The Point, there was a beautiful and exten- 
 sive view down the river ; the view towards the north was 
 obstructed by Fort Washington. On the hill were corn- 
 fields and a peach orchard, and two or three little cot- 
 
Audubon Park, 437 
 
 tages where the men lived who worked on the place. In 
 the valley were the dwelling-house, a large barn and sta- 
 ble, and a little cottage where the coachman lived with 
 his wife and family. A beautiful little stream ran through 
 the grounds, widening out in one place into a pond, at the 
 lower end of which was a waterfall five or six feet high 
 ^nd very broad ; the water fell into another pond, and 
 below that the brook divided into two parts, forming a 
 little island. Just before the brook reached the river, it 
 was crossed by a picturesque bridge which was quite an 
 ornament to the scene. This estate he named Minnie's 
 Land, Minnie, the Scotch word for mother, being the 
 name by which he generally addressed his wife, and to 
 her he left the whole of it at his death. 
 
 About half of this beautiful place forms what is now 
 called " Audubon Park," so named by some of the gen- 
 tlemen, friends of the Audubon family, who resided there 
 after the naturalist's death ; but no one would recognize 
 the spot ; where formerly there was but one dwelling- 
 house, there are now about forty. The portion called 
 Audubon Park contains above a dozen houses, and though 
 it is still very beautiful, there is of course a total change 
 in the arrangement of the grounds, and the very house 
 Mr. Audubon lived in, is so metamorphosed that he 
 would scarcely recognize it for the one that once was 
 his. 
 
 Rufus W. Griswold, who visited Audubon in 1846, 
 gives us the following picture of his home : " The house 
 was simple and unpretending in its architecture, and beau- 
 tifully embowered amid elms and oaks. Several graceful 
 fawns, and a noble elk, were stalking in the shade of the 
 trees, apparently unconscious of the presence of a few 
 dogs, and not caring for the numerous turkeys, geese, and 
 other domestic animals that gabbled and screamed around 
 them. Nor did my own approach starde the wild, beau- 
 
43 ^ ^^f^ ^f ^uduhon. 
 
 tiflil creatures, that seemed as docile as any of their tame 
 companions. - - 
 
 " * Is the master at home ? ' *' I asked of a pretty maid- 
 servant, who answered my tap at the door ; and who, af- 
 ter informing me that he was, led me into a room on the 
 left side of the broad hall. It was not, however, a par- 
 lor, or an ordinary reception-room that I entered, but evi- 
 dently a room for work. In one corner stood a painter's 
 easel, with a half finished sketch of a beaver on the pa- 
 per j in the other lay the skin of an American panther. 
 The antlers of elks hung upon the walls ; stuffed birds 
 of every description of gay plumage ornamented the 
 mantel-piece ; and exquisite drawings of field-mice, ori- 
 oles, and woodpeckers, were scattered promiscuously in 
 other parts of the room, across one end of which a long 
 rude table was stretched to hold artist materials, scraps 
 of drawing-paper, and immense folio volumes, filled with 
 delicious paintings of birds taken in their native haunts. 
 
 " * Thxa,* said I to myself, * is the studio of the natu- 
 ralist,' but hardly had the thought escaped me, when the 
 master himself made his appearance. He was a tall, thin 
 man, with a high arched and serene forehead, and a bright 
 penetrating gray eye ; his white locks fell in clusters upon 
 his shoulders, but were the only signs of age, for his form 
 was erect, and his step as light as that of a deer. The 
 expression of his face was sharp, but noble and com- 
 manding, and there was something in it, partly derived 
 from the aquiline nose and partly from the shutting of the 
 mouth, which made you think of the imperial eagle. 
 
 " His greeting, as he entered, was at once frank and 
 cordial, and showed you the sincere, true man. * How 
 kind it is,* he said, with a slight French accent, and in a 
 pensive tone, ' to come to see me ; and how wise, too, to 
 leave that crazy city ! * He then shook me warmly by the 
 hand. * Do you know,' he continued, * how I wonder 
 
His Last Days. 439 
 
 that men can consent to swelter and fret their lives away 
 amid those hot bricks and pestilent vapors, when the 
 (V'oods and fields are all : • near ? It would kill me soon 
 to be confined in such a prison-house ; and when I am 
 forced to make an occasional visit there, it fills me with 
 loathing and sadness. Ah ! how often when I have been 
 abroad on the mountains has my heart risen in grateful 
 praise to God that it was not my destiny to waste and 
 pine among those noisome congregations of the city.' " 
 
 - Another visitor to the naturalist's happy home has 
 left the following admirable description of the sunset of 
 Audubon's life : " In my interview with the naturalist, 
 there were several things that stamped themselves indel- 
 ibly upon my mind. The wonderful simplicity of the man 
 was perhaps the most remarkable. His enthusiasm for 
 facts made him unconscious of himself. To make him hap- 
 py, you had only to give him a new fact in natural history, 
 or introduce him to a rare bird. His self-forgetfulness 
 was \Qry impressive. I felt that I had found a man 
 who asked homage for God and Nature, and not for 
 himself. 
 
 "The unconscious greatness of the man seemed only 
 equalled by his child-like tenderness. The sweet unity 
 between his wife and himself, as they turned over the 
 original drawings of his birds, and recalled the circum- 
 stances of the drawings, some of which had been made 
 when she was with him ; her quickness of perception, and 
 their mutual enthusiasm regarding these works of his 
 heart and hand, and the tenderness with which they im- 
 consciously treated each other, all was impressed upon 
 my memory. Ever since, I have been convinced that 
 Audubon owed more to his wife than the world knew, or 
 ever would know. That she was always a reliance, often 
 a help, and ever a sympathising sister-soul to her noble 
 husband, was fully apparent to me. I was deeply im- 
 
440 Life of Audubon . 
 
 pressed with the wonderful character of those original 
 drawings. , 
 
 " Their exquisite beauty and life-likeness, and the 
 feeling of life they gave me, I have preserved in my 
 memory ; and the contrast between these impressions 
 and those of the published works of Audubon is very 
 marked. The great work recalls the feelings I then had, 
 but by no means creates such emotions. The difference 
 is as great as the difference between the living Audubon 
 and his admirable picture by Cruikshank. I looked 
 from him to his picture in that interview. It was the 
 naturalist, and yet it was not. There was a venerable 
 maturity in the original that had been gained since the 
 features and the the spirit of the young and ardent enthu- 
 siast had been imprisoned by the artist. The picture 
 expressed decidedly less than the living man who stood 
 before me. It had more of youth and beauty and the 
 prophecy of greatness, and less of the calm satisfaction 
 of achievement ; the sense of riches gained, not for him- 
 self, but for the world, and less of all that makes a man 
 venerable. 
 
 " I could sympathize with the manhood that looked 
 out of the picture — I could find a certain equality be- 
 tween myself and the man whom Cruikshank had paint- 
 ed. I could have followed him like his dog, and carried 
 his gun and blanket like a younger brother ; but before 
 the man Audubon, who turned over the drawings, and 
 related anecdotes of one and another, I could have knelt 
 in devotion and thankfulness. He had done his work. 
 He was a hero, created and approved by what he had ac- 
 complished, and I bowed my spirit before him and asked 
 no endorsement of my hero-worship of Carlyle or the 
 Catholic Church. 
 
 " When I left, I said to him, * I have seen Audubon, 
 and I am very thankful.' 
 
His Last Days. 441 
 
 " 'You have seen a poor old man,' said he, clasping 
 my hand in his — and he was then only seventy years of 
 age. He had measured life by what he had done, and 
 he seemed to himself to be old. - 
 
 "It is hard to confine one's self to dates and times 
 when contemplating such a man as Audubon. He be- 
 longs to all time. He was born, but he can never die." 
 
 A few years before Audubon's death he exhibited in 
 New York his wonderful collection of drawings, consist- 
 ing of several thousands of animals and birds, all of 
 which the naturalist had studied in their nativ^e homes, 
 all drawn of the size of life by his own hand, and all rep- 
 resented with their natural foliage around them. A por- 
 tion of this collection was exhibited in Edinburgh, and as 
 Prof. Wilson has said of the same pictures, the spectator 
 immediately imagined himself in the forest. The birds 
 were all there, — " all were of the size of life, from the 
 wren and the humming-bird to the wild turkey and the 
 bird of Washington. But what signified the mere size ? 
 The colors were all of life too, bright as when borne in 
 beaming beaut}' through the woods. There too were 
 their attitudes and postures, infinite as they are assumed 
 by the restless creatures, in motion or rest, in their glee 
 and their gambols, their loves and their wars, singing, or 
 caressing, or brooding, or preying, or tearing one another 
 to pieces. The trees on which they sat or sported all 
 true to nature, in bole, branch, spray, and leaf, the flow- 
 ery shrubs and the ground flowers, the weeds and the 
 very grass, all American — as were the atmosphere and 
 the skies. It was a wild and poetical vision of the heart 
 of the New World, inhabited as yet almost wholly by the 
 lovely or noble creatures that " own not man's dominion." 
 It was, indeed, a rich and magnificent sight, such as we 
 would not for a diadem have lost." 
 
 ** Surrounded " wrote Audubon in 1846, "by all the 
 19* 
 
442 Life of Audubon. 
 
 members of my dear family, enjoying the affection of nu- 
 merous friends, who have never abandoned me, and pos- 
 sessing a sufficient share of all that contributes to make 
 life agreeable, I lift my grateful eyes towards the Supieme 
 Being and feel that I am happy." 
 
 After 1848 the naturalist's mind entirely failed him \ 
 and during the last years of his life his eye lost its bright- 
 ness, and he had to be led to his daily walks by the hand 
 of a servant. This continued until the Monday before 
 his death. In the words of William Wilson : 
 
 *' "Waning life and weary, 
 
 Fainting heart and limb, 
 Darkening road and dreary. 
 
 Flashing eye grown dim ; 
 All betokening night-fall near, 
 Day is done and rest is dear." 
 
 On Monday morning he declined to eat his breakfast, 
 and was unable to take his usual morning walk. Mrs. 
 Audubon had him put to bed, and he lay without apparent 
 suffering, but refusing to receive any nourishment, until 
 five o'clock on Thursday morning, January 27th, 185 1, 
 when a deep pallor overspread his countenance. The 
 other members of his family were immediately sent for to 
 his bedside. Then, though he did not speak, his eyes, 
 which had been so long nearly quenched, rekindled into 
 their former lustre and beauty ; his spirit seemed to be 
 conscious that it was approaching the spirit-land. One 
 of the sons said, " Minnie, father's eyes have now their 
 natural expression ; " and the departing man reached out 
 his arms, took his wife's and children's hands between his 
 own, and passed peacefully away. 
 
 Four days later the friends and neighbors, together 
 with numerous men of letters and savants from New 
 York, who were not deterred by the stormy day from at- 
 
Memento Mori. 
 
 443 
 
 tending Audubon's unostentatious funeral, accompanied 
 the family from the residence to the resting place he had 
 chosen for himself in Trinity Church cemetery, adjoining 
 his own estate, and saw his remains laid tenderly away 
 by those who loved him best, in the family vault, where 
 his sons have since been placed by his side.