their habits and manners as if they were intelligent things; and thus he has given a life and charm to his descriptions, which will make his work the chief attraction of the science in our country for many years to come.'1 Years after Wilson had passed through his heavy discouragements, the best of the American reviews was entreating the wealthy classes to assist Audubon, and reminding them of the fact, that among ten millions of people, the Scotch pioneer had failed to find more than two hundred subscribers to his beautiful work.

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON, author of a splendid work on The Birds of America, was born in Louisiana about the year 1782. His name will ever be remembered in connection with natural history; and the graceful and happy descriptions of forest-adventures, interspersed with his sketches of birds in the Ornithological Biography, justly claim for him a place in our series of American authors. He was an intelligent and enthusiastic student of nature, endowed with the feeling and imagination of a poet, and blending in his deportment the refinement of a gentleman with the simplicity and frankness of a backwoodsman.2

After studying in Paris, where he took lessons in drawing from the painter David, Audubon, when eighteen years old, returned to America, and began farming. He was for some time engaged in commercial pursuits, but his love of art and natural history led him away from the haunts of trade; and in 1811 we find him in Florida, employed as a sportsman and artist-now shooting a deer, a squirrel, or a turkey, or hooking a trout to provide for himself a meal; then writing or drawing a sketch of some beautiful bird; spending the day in arduous journeys, to add to the pages of his Ornithology, and resting at night under a shed of green boughs. After some years of lonely wanderings in the forests of the West, he returned to Philadelphia in 1824, and visited New York, where he was encouraged to proceed in preparing his splendid work on The Birds of America. In 1826, he visited Edinburgh, and there found several warm friends.

Subsequently, he received the highest honours from scientific men in Paris, London, and Boston, United States, and persevered in labouring for the completion of his great undertaking. In 1830, he had issued his first volume, containing one hundred plates, representing ninety-nine species of birds, every figure of the size and colour of life. In 1834, he was again in Edinburgh, finished the second volume of The Birds of America, and published

1 North American Review, No. 75.

2 This is the estimate of Audubon's character given by his friend Professor Wilson, but we have not quoted the exact words.

another volume of his Ornithological Biography. In 1839, having returned to his native country, he commenced publishing the octavo edition of his great work, of which the seventh and last volume appeared in 1844. Of the folio edition, Cuvier said: 'It is the most splendid monument which art has erected in honour of ornithology.'

This work, and the accompanying biography, gave to the world the results of almost a whole life devoted to travel and adventure, ' amid the tall grass of the far-extended prairies of the west-in the solemn forests of the north-on the heights of the midland mountains-by the shores of the boundless ocean, and on the bosoms of our vast bays, lakes, and rivers; searching for things hidden, since the creation of this wondrous world, from all but the Indian who has roamed in the gorgeous but melancholy wilderness.'

While the people's edition of The Birds of America was in course of publication, Audubon recommenced his travels, to prepare materials for his new work on The Quadrupeds of America, of which the first volume of biographies appeared in 1847.

The following extract from Audubon's numerous lively descriptions of scenery and adventure, is beautiful in itself, and serves to illustrate the rapid progress of society in America:—

DESCENT OF THE OHIO IN 1809.

'It was in the month of October. The autumnal tints already decorated the shores of that queen of rivers, the Ohio. Every tree was hung with long and flowing festoons of different species of vines, many loaded with clustered fruits of varied brilliancy, their rich bronzed carmine mingling beautifully with the yellow foliage, which now predominated over the yet green leaves, reflecting more lively tints from the clear stream than ever landscape-painter portrayed or poet imagined.

The days were yet warm. The sun had assumed the rich and glowing hue which at that season produces the singular phenomenon called there the Indian summer. The moon had rather passed the meridian of her grandeur. We glided down the river, meeting no other ripple of the water than that formed by the propulsion of our boat. Leisurely we moved along, gazing all day on the grandeur and beauty of the wild scenery around us.

Now and then a large cat-fish rose to the surface of the water in pursuit of a shoal of fry, which, starting simultaneously from the liquid element, like so many silvery arrows, produced a shower of light, while the pursuer with open jaws seized the stragglers, and with a splash of his tail disappeared from our view. Other fishes we heard uttering beneath our bark a rumbling noise, the strange

sounds of which we discovered to proceed from the white perch, for, on casting our net from the bow, we caught several of that species, when the noise ceased for a time.

Nature, in her varied arrangements, seems to have felt a partiality toward this portion of our country. As the traveller ascends or descends the Ohio, he cannot help remarking that alternately, nearly the whole length of the river, the margin on one side is bounded by lofty hills and a rolling surface; while on the other, extensive plains of the richest alluvial land are seen as far as the eye can command the view. Islands of varied size and form rise here and there from the bosom of the water, and the winding course of the stream frequently brings you to places where the idea of being on a river of great length changes to that of floating on a lake of moderate extent. Some of these islands are of considerable size and value; while others, small and insignificant, seem as if intended for contrast, and as serving to enhance the general interest of the scenery. These little islands are frequently overflowed during great freshets or floods, and receive at their heads prodigious heaps of drifted timber. We foresaw with great concern the alteration that cultivation would soon produce along those delightful banks.

As night came, sinking in darkness the broader portions of the river, our minds became affected by strong emotions, and wandered far beyond the present moments. The tinkling of bells told us that the cattle which bore them were gently roving from valley to valley in search of food, or returning to their distant homes. The hooting of the great owl, or the muffled noise of its wings as it sailed smoothly over the stream, were matters of interest to us; so was the sound of the boatman's horn, as it came winding more and more softly from afar. When daylight returned, many songsters burst forth with echoing notes, more and more mellow to the listening ear. Here and there the lonely cabin of a squatter struck the eye, giving note of commencing civilisation. The crossing of the stream by a deer foretold how soon the hills would be covered with snow.

Many sluggish flat-boats we overtook and passed: some laden with produce from the different head-waters of the small rivers that pour their tributary streams into the Ohio; others, of less dimensions, crowded with emigrants from distant parts, in search of a new home. Purer pleasures I never felt; nor have you, reader, I ween, unless indeed you have felt the like, and in such company.

When I think of the times, and call back to my mind the grandeur and beauty of those almost uninhabited shores; when I picture to myself the dense and lofty summits of the forest, that everywhere spread along the hills, and overhung the margins of the stream, unmolested by the axe of the settler; when I know how dearly purchased the safe navigation of that river has been by the blood of many worthy Virginians; when I see that no longer any aborigines are to be found there, and that the vast herds of elks, deer, and buffaloes which once pastured on these hills and in these valleys, making for themselves great roads to the several salt-springs, have

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ceased to exist; when I reflect that all this grand portion of our Union, instead of being in a state of nature, is now more or less covered with villages, farms, and towns, where the din of hammers and machinery is constantly heard; that the woods are fast disappearing under the axe by day, and the fire by night; that hundreds of steam-boats are gliding to and fro, over the whole length of the majestic river, forcing commerce to take root and to prosper at every spot; when I see the surplus population of Europe coming to assist in the destruction of the forest, and transplanting civilisation into its darkest recesses; when I remember that these extraordinary changes have all taken place in the short period of twenty years, I pause, wonder, and-although I know all to be factcan scarcely believe its reality.'

As life becomes more and more artificial in our crowded towns and ways of commerce, we may suppose that, by a natural love of contrast, such books as these by Wilson and Audubon, breathing the spirit of the western forests, will increase in their attractiveness. It is delightful to forget, for a time, all the troubles of mankind, and the never-ending questions of social life, and to go out with the enthusiast and hold converse with the merry boblink and the versatile mocking-bird. So numerous and so charming are the sketches of birds by the pen and the pencil of Audubon, that a few specimens can give no fair idea of his rich variety. He has widened our field of observation, and has given us, at our firesides, impressions of the vivid pleasures for which he travelled so many leagues through the forests and along the rivers. The belted kingfisher, sitting, as in a trance, or glancing with a passing lustre along the bank of the lonely stream; the versatile boblink; the purple martin; the blue jay; the snowbird, drifting along in the wintry storm; the crimson oriole, falling like a flake of fire in the forest; the cat-bird, injuriously named, for he can sing sweetly; the crimson linnet, with his flute-like song: all these, and a host of other feathered friends, have their colours represented and their habits faithfully described in the splendid pages of Audubon. We here select a sketch, prefixing a short account of the writer's mode of life while pursuing his researches in the forest.

"The adventures and vicissitudes which have fallen to my lot, instead of tending to diminish the fervid enthusiasm of my nature, have imparted a toughness to my bodily constitution, naturally strong, and to my mind, naturally buoyant, an elasticity such as to assure me that though somewhat old, and considerably denuded in the frontal region, I could yet perform on foot a journey of any length, were I sure that I should thereby add materially to our

knowledge of the ever-interesting creatures which have for so long a time occupied my thoughts by day, and filled my dreams with pleasant images. Nay, reader, had I a new lease of life presented to me, I should choose for it the very occupations in which I have been engaged.

And, reader, the life which I have led has been, in some respects, a singular one. Think of a person intent on such pursuits as mine have been, aroused at early dawn from his rude couch on the alderfringed brook of some northern valley, or in the midst of some yet unexplored forest of the west, or perhaps on the soft and warm sands of the Florida shores, and listening to the pleasing melodies of songsters innumerable saluting the magnificent orb, from whose radiant influence the creatures of many worlds receive life and light. Refreshed and reinvigorated by healthful rest, he starts upon his feet, gathers up his store of curiosities, buckles on his knapsack, shoulders his trusty firelock, says a kind word to his faithful dog, and recommences his pursuit of zoological knowledge. Now the morning is spent, and a squirrel or a trout affords him a repast. Should the day be warm, he reposes for a time under the shade of some tree. The woodland choristers again burst forth into song, and he starts anew to wander wherever his fancy may direct him, or the objects of his search may lead him in pursuit. When evening approaches, and the birds are seen betaking themselves to the retreats, he looks for some place of safety, erects his shed of green boughs, kindles his fire, prepares his meal; and as the widgeon or blue-winged teal, or perhaps the breast of a turkey or a steak of venison, sends its delicious perfumes abroad, he enters into his parchment-bound journal the remarkable incidents and facts that have occurred in the course of the day. Darkness has now drawn her sable curtain over the scene; his repast is finished, and kneeling on the earth, he raises his soul to Heaven, grateful for the protection that has been granted to him, and the sense of the Divine presence in this solitary place. Then wishing a cordial good-night to all the dear friends at home, the American woodsman wraps himself up in his blanket, and closing his eyes, soon falls into that comfortable sleep which never fails him on such occasions.'

'Where is the person, who, on observing this glittering fragment of the rainbow, would not pause, admire, and instantly turn his mind with reverence toward the Almighty Creator, the wonders of whose hand we at every step discover, and of whose sublime conceptions we everywhere observe the manifestations in his admirable system of creation?-There breathes not such a person, so kindly have we all been blessed with that intuitive and noble feeling-admiration! No sooner has the returning sun again introduced the vernal season, and caused millions of plants to expand their leaves and blossoms to his genial beams, than the little humming-bird is seen advancing on