favourite objects, that he will never become a convert to any system, but instruct and delight us as a true and unprejudiced biographer of Nature." And Baron Cuvier, in a report made to the Royal Academy of Sciences of Paris, after having pronounced a splendid eulogium on Audubon's "Quatre cents dessins qui contiennent a-peu pres deux mille figures," thus concludes his "compte verbal." "Formerly European naturalists had to make known to America the treasures she possessed; but now the Mitchells, the Harlans, the Wilsons, the Charles Bonapartes, have repaid with interest the debt which America owed to Europe. The History of the Birds of the United States, by Wilson, already equals in elegance our most beautiful works in ornithology. If ever that of M. Audubon be completed, then it will have to be granted that America, in magnificence of execution, has surpassed the Old World." But before speaking of the magnificent design of Audubon, now fast being accomplished, let us first acquaint our readers with the man. In an autobiographical sketch-would that it had been a finished picture— prefixed to the volume now before us, he exhibits many traits of his simple, single-hearted, enthusiastic, enterprising, and persevering character, which it is impossible to regard without affectionate admiration. He calls himself, in the pride of genius and patriotism, an "American woodsman." And when some five years ago, we first set our eyes upon him in a party of literati, in " stately Edinborough throned on crags," he was such an American woodsman as took the shine out of us modern Athenians. Though dressed, of course, somewhat after the fashion of ourselves, his long raven locks hung curling over his shoulders, yet unshorn from the wilderness. They were shaded across his open forehead with a simple elegance, such as a civilized Christian might be supposed to give his "fell of hair," when practising, "every man his own perruquier," in some liquid mirror in the forestglade, employing, perhaps, for a comb, the claw of the bald eagle. His sallow fine-featured face bespoke a sort of wild independence, and then such an eye-keen as that of the falcon! His foreign accent and broken English speech-for he is of French descent-removed him still

farther out of the commonplace circle of this every-day world of ours-and his whole demeanour-it might be with us partly imagination—was coloured to our thought by a character of conscious freedom and dignity, which he had habitually acquired in his long and lonely wanderings among the woods, where he had lived in the uncompanioned love and delight of Nature, and in the studious observation of all the ways of her winged children, that for ever fluttered over his paths, and roosted on the tree at whose feet he lay at night, beholding them still the sole images that haunted his dreams. All this, we admit, must have had over it a strong tincture of imagination; for we had been told of his wandering life and his wonderful pencil; but the entire appearance of the man was most appropriate to what had for so many years been his calling, and bore upon it, nor to be mistaken for a moment or overlooked, the impress, not of singularity, but of originality; in one word, of genius-self-nursed, selfripened, and self-tutored among the inexhaustible treasures of the forest, on which, in one soul-engrossing pursuit, it had lavished its dearest and divinest passion. Nor will this language sound extravagant to those who know Audubon, and that the man is never for an hour distinct, in his being, from the ornithologist. But hear him speak

of himself

"I received life and light in the New World. When I had hardly yet learned to walk, and to articulate those first words always so endearing to parents, the productions of nature that lay spread all around, were constantly pointed out to me. They soon became my playmates; and before my ideas were sufficiently formed to enable me to estimate the difference between the azure tints of the sky, and the emerald hue of the bright foliage, I felt that an intimacy with them, not consisting of friendship merely, but bordering on frenzy, must accompany my steps through life;-and now, more than ever, am I persuaded of the power of those early impressions. They laid such hold of me, that, when removed from the woods, the prairies, and the brooks, or shut up from the view of the wide Atlantic, I experienced none of those pleasures most congenial to my mind. None but aerial companions

suited my fancy. that formed of the dense foliage under which the feathered tribes were seen to resort, or the caves and fissures of the massy rocks, to which the dark-winged cormorant and the curlew retired to rest, or to protect themselves from the fury of the tempest. My father generally accompanied my steps, procured birds and flowers for me with great eagerness,-pointed out the elegant movements of the former, the beauty and softness of their plumage, the manifestations of their pleasure or sense of danger,-and the always perfect forms and splendid attire of the latter. My valued preceptor would then speak of the departure and return of birds with the seasons, would describe their haunts, and, more wonderful than all, their change of livery; thus exciting me to study them, and to raise my mind toward their Creator.

No roof seemed so secure to me as

"A vivid pleasure shone upon those days of my early youth, attended with a calmness of feeling, that seldom failed to rivet my attention for hours, whilst I gazed in ecstasy upon the pearly and shining eggs, as they lay imbedded in the softest down, or among dried leaves and twigs, or exposed upon the burning sand or weather-beaten rock of our Atlantic shores. I was taught to look upon them as flowers yet in the bud. I watched their opening, to see how Nature had provided each different species with eyes, either open at birth, or closed for some time after; to trace the slow progress of the young birds toward perfection, or admire the celerity with which some of them, while yet unfledged, removed themselves from danger to security.

"I grew up, and my. wishes grew with my form. These wishes, kind reader, were for the entire possession of all that I saw. I was fervently desirous of becoming acquainted with Nature. For many years, however, I was sadly disappointed, and for ever, doubtless, must I have desires that cannot be gratified. The moment a bird was dead, however beautiful it had been when in life, the pleasure arising from the possession of it became blunted; and although the greatest cares were bestowed on endeavours to preserve the appearance of nature, I looked upon its vesture as more than sullied, as requiring constant

attention and repeated mendings, while, after all, it could no longer be said to be fresh from the hands of its maker. I wished to possess all the productions of Nature, but I wished life with them. This was impossible. Then what was to be done? I turned to my father, and made known to him my disappointment and anxiety. He produced a book of Illustrations. A new life ran in my veins. 1 turned over the leaves with avidity; and although what I saw was not what I longed for, it gave me a desire to copy Nature. To Nature I went, and tried to imitate her, as in the days of my childhood I had tried to raise myself from the ground and stand erect, before Nature had imparted the vigour necessary for the success of such an undertaking.

"How sorely disappointed did I feel for many years, when I saw that my productions were worse than those which I ventured (perhaps in silence) to regard as bad, in the book given me by my father! My pencil gave birth to a family of cripples. So maimed were most of them, that they resembled the mangled corpses on a field of battle, compared with the integrity of living men. These difficulties and disappointments irritated me, but never for a moment destroyed the desire of obtaining perfect representations of nature. The worse my drawings were, the more beautiful did I see the originals. To have been torn from the study, would have been as death to me. time was entirely occupied with it. I produced hundreds of these rude sketches annually; and for a long time, at my request, they made bonfires on the anniversaries of my birthday."

My

While yet a boy, he was sent to Paris, and studied drawing under David. "Eyes and noses belonging to giants, and heads of horses represented in ancient sculpture, were my models. These, although fit subjects for men intent on pursuing the higher branches of the art, were immediately laid aside by me;" and at the age of seventeen, he returned from France to the woods of the New World with fresh ardour, and commenced a collection of drawings under the title of the "Birds of America." His father gave him a beautiful "plantation" in Pennsylvania, refreshed during the summer heats by the waters of the

Schuylkill river, and traversed by a creek named Perkiomen. Its fine woodlands, its extensive fields, its hills crowned with evergreens, offered many subjects for his pencil. There too he married-and children were born unto him, whom he did not love the less ardently and deeply because of his love of the flowers of the field and the birds of the air. In all his subsequent struggles with uncertain, if not with evil fortune, when all other friends frowned, and were too ready to blame his passion for ornithology, by which they saw that money might be lost but not won, his own family still approved of his pursuits, and cheered and cherished his enthusiasm, that was its own reward. His residence at the Pennsylvanian plantation was short as sweet; and for twenty years his life was a succession of vicissitudes. Yet, amidst them all, his ruling passion never ebbed-it flowed on perpetually towards the forests. 66 Any one unacquainted with the extraordinary desire I felt of seeing and judging for myself, would doubtless have pronounced me callous to every sense of duty, and regardless of every interest. I undertook long and tedious journeys, ransacked the woods, the lakes, the prairies, and the shores of the Atlantic. Years were spent away from my family. Yet, reader, will you believe it? I had no other object in view, than simply to enjoy the sight of nature. Never, for a moment, did I conceive the hope of becoming in any degree useful to my kind, until I accidentally formed an acquaintance with the Prince of Musignano (Charles Bonaparte) at Philadelphia, to which place I went, with the view of proceeding eastward along the coast." This was in April 1824. It does not appear, however, that though

Boston is a pretty town,

And so is Philadelphy;

You shall have a sugar plum,

And I'll have one myself-eh?

that any sweetmeats or crumbs of comfort were bestowed on Audubon, who was soon compelled elsewhere to seek for patronage. He went to New York, where he was received with a kindness well suited to elevate his depressed spirits; and afterwards ascending that noble stream, the