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THE*

LIFE

OF

John James Audubon,

THE NA TURALIST.

Edited by His Widow.

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY JAS. GRANT WILSON.

New York :
G. P. PUTNAM & SON,

1869.

mas _

(( rOV 8 1953

fSlTY OF

866733

Entered accordinc to Act of Congress, in the year 1SC8,

MRS. JOHN J. AUDUBON,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the

Southern District of New York.

THE TROW & SMITH
BOOK MANUFACTURING COMPANY
46, 48, 50 Greece Stroet, N. Y.

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-
rahst, 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
travehng thigh, " as Ben Jonson quaintly expressed it^
the American pubHc 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 by his discov-
eries, and illustrating 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 pure, lofty, kindling enthusiasm, no thirst for
wealth, no desire of distinction, no restless ambition of ec-
centric character, could have induced him to undergo as many
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
pfiven us more accurate information of the forms and habits

o

of those that were 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 Quo Jit Maccejias of Horace, and was to the
end of his long life most intense. Neither his friends. Sir Wal-
ter Scott, 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 simphcity 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 ; wilhng to sacri-
fice her personal comfort at any moment for the furtherance
of his great schemes ; ever ready with kiss and counsel when

VI • 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.
SI St. Mark's Place,

New York, April, 1869.

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 HI.

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

CHAPTER 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 — Vanderlyn, the Painter — Audu-
bon leaves New Orleans for Kentucky — Return to New Or-
leans — Review of Work done since leaving Home. . ^l

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 — Leaves for Louis-
ville wilh his son Victor — Wanderings through the Wilds —
Kesidence at Louisville — The Waste of Waters — The Flood-
ed Forest Z^

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 — Turns Dan-
cing-master. 100

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. Ii8

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 ; — Horrors of London. .... 149

CHAPTER XII.

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 — l^tiends in New
York. . ^ . . iSi

CHAPTER XIV.
The Meeting with his Wife and Sons — Return with his Wifv to
England — Provincial Canvass — East Florida. , . 197

CHAPTER XY.
Floridian Episodes — The Live Oakers 235

Contents, ix

CHAPTER XVII.
Third Florida Epijode ; Spring Garden. .... 228

CHAPTER XVIII.
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, . . . 281

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 XXVIIL
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

CHAPTER 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 XXXn.
Journal Resumed — Washington Irving — Wanderings South —
Florida Excursion Abandoned — Returns North — 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 XXXVI.
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

CHAPTER I.

Aiiduhofi's Ancestry — His Childhood — First Visit to America —
The Bakewell Family — Aspirations — YotithfiU Rccollectiojts —
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 his 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 Audubon,

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 ten years he reahzed a considerable fortune. Obtain-
ing an appointment from the Governor of St. Domingo,
he returned to France, and in his official 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
greatly 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 North
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 on
the Loire. This estate was left by Commodore Audubon ta
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
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.

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, determining
to educate his son thoroughly, as the safest inheritance
he could leave him, he sent the young gentleman
straightway to school. Audubon laments that education

His Early Tears, 15

in France was but miserably attended to during the
years 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,
was desirous that the boy should become a sailor, a cadet
in the French navy, or an engineer ; and with these views
before him, he decided on the course of study his son
should follow. Mathematics, drawing, geography, fencing
and music were among the branches of education pre-
scribed; it being evident that a complex course of
instruction was not among the misapprehensions the old
sailor's professional prejudices had nurtured. Audubon
had, for music-master, an adept who taught him to play
adroitly upon the violin, flute, flageolet, and guitar. For
drawing-master, he had David, the chief inventor and
worshipper of the abominations which smothered the
aspirations of French artists during the revolutionary
generation. Nevertheless it was to David that Audubon
owed his earliest lessons in tracing objects of natural
history. Audubon was, moreover, a proficient in dancing,
— an accomplishment which in after years he had more
opportunities of practising among bears than among men.

Influenced by the military fever of his time, he
dreamed in his schooldays of being a soldier ; but
happily for natural science his adventurous spirit found
another outlet. Fortunately his instruction was under,
the practical guidance of his mother, and large scope was
allowed him for indulging in nest-hunting propensities.
Supplied with a haversack of provisions, he made
frequent excursions into the country, and usually returned
-loaded with objects of natural history, birds' nests, birds'
eggs, specimens of moss, curious stones, and other objects
attractive to his eye.

When the old sailor returned from sea he was

1 6 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 v/ar 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 country
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, ly

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
home 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. Bakewell lived at Fatland Ford,
within sight of Mill 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 v;as 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 was 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, ofiered 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 w^ho
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

'^he Bakew ell Family, 19

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
aer, 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 was 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 rufiled shirts
I could obtain from 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 this I
attribute my continual good health, endurance, and an
iron constitution. So strong was the habit, that I disliked
going to dinner parties, where people were expected to
indulge in eating and drinking, and where often there was

ne Bake well Family, i\

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
the 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'i 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 Audubon,

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 money
from Da Costa to carry him to France. The French
adventurer 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 off 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 II.

Rcs'ult of Audubon^ s Voyage to France — Renewal of Bird-Jntnting
Ftirsiiits — Exa7ninatio7i for the French Marine^ and Appoint-
mejit to the Post of Midshipman — Return to America — Chased
by a Privateer — The Instincts of the Naturalist — Goes to New
Yoj'k to acquire a Knoivledge of Business — Portrait of Himself

— Returns to Mill Grove — Marriage and Jotirney to Louisville

— His Settlement there and Pleasant Life — Remwal 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
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
necessarily 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,

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 outvv^ard bound was forced to heave
his ship to, and submit to be boarded by a boat. The
enemy proved to be the Enghsh 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 run 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 shij) j 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 was 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 inspired him with the desire
to represent, by the aid of pencil, crayon, or paint, the
2

26 Life of Audubon,

form, 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 was 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 well, 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 L,ife of Audiihon,

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 unsuitability for business, that he at
one time posted without sealing it a letter containing
8000 dollars. His natural history 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 forwarded a
message to him through a constable, insisting on his abat-
ing the nuisaftce. 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 nose, 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 nai-
vete 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

30 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 Ornithology,' of whose
existence I had never until that moment been api^rised.
This happened in March, 18 10. How wxll 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

Wilson^ the Ornithologist, 31

his arm, and as he approached the table at which I was
working, I thought I discovered something hke 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
m}^ 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

32 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
Loo, 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 coming 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 had then portrayed Napoleon
crossing the Alps. Mr. Wilson spoke not of birds or

Wilson^ the Ornithologist, '}^';^

drawings. JFeeling, 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.*"

2*

CHAPTER III.

Rehcrn of Mrs, Audubon to her Father'' s House — Audubon ajtd Rosier
move to Hendersonville — 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 twenty 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 'travel.

3S

Audubon should be left at Henderson ville, 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 in 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 watejr-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 DeMunn, who was also in a boat like ours,
and bound also for St. Genevieve. 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. An

^6 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 Oi
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 from Swan Lake.

" 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

3 8 Life of Auduhon,

birds, and I retired, very well satisfied with my Christmas
sport.

" When 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-born 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 saplings 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 a long vine, went into the hollow tree, fastened it to

A Bear-Hunt,

Z^

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 weeks, 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 two 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 ; 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 Auduhon,

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 j 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 every 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 with 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. We
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
a squirrel in 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 woods. They
gradually accumulated, and before a week had passed
great numbers of these 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 country. 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 every day ; and no one can

42. 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 bufialo 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. 4j

"What a different life from the one I am leading nowj
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 -^(/'^ 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 jDieces 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 blowy. The water gushed from the
fissures formed in the ice, and the prospect was ex-
tremely dismal. When 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.

«S*/. 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 on 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."

CHAPTER IV.

Audubon finds Generdeve unsuitable — Return Journey to Henderson'
ville — 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 Renewed
Misfortunes — Commences to draw Portraits — Engagement at
Cincinnati Museum.

UDUBON soon discovered that Genevieve 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 Genevieve, 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 on 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 so, 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 from 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 1 Her
voice was gruff, and her dress negligently thrown about
her. She answered in the afiirmative. 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 Auduhon.

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 bufialo 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.

49

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 few 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
corner, where a conversation took place, the purport of

50 Life of Auduhofh

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 sons, and said, ' There, that'll

soon settle him ! Boys, kill yon , and then for the

watch ! '

" 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 rifle 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 Law " 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,

52 Life of Audubon.

unsuspected, turned after him and dogged his steps.
Mason retired to a quiet dell, hobbled his horse to pre-
v^ent 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. I'he 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 the country, and was never 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 born. John Woodhouse 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 piteously, 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 ; 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
reality ? Who 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 the
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

54 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 the relief 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
building. 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 the
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 ; 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 Gibitere, and seventeen thousand

56 Life of Auduhon,

dollars which had been defX)sited 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 until 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 Mississii^pi

Removal to Louisville.

SI

river. All cf these parlies 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
death. 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 Auduhon,

wards he received an invitation to become a curator of
the museum at Cincinnati, and for the preparation of
birds received a Hberal 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 Kentttcky — Migrations into the Wilds of Kentucky — Rijle
Shooting — Driving Nails with Bullets — Daniel Boone " Bark'
ing Squirrels " — Festivities on Bear grass Creek — Wild Scenes in
the Woods — Hunting the Racoon — Visit from the Eccentric Nat-
uralist, Rafnesque — 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-
mens. A variety of amusing incidents occurred in these
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 tliere, 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 with
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 from their homesteads beyond the mountains,
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, Si

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 sufli-
cient for any distance within a hundred yards. A shot
which comes very close to the nail is considered that of
an indiflerent 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
further 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 w^hich 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, d^

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 River, 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 Lifs of Auduhon,

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 always 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
children took part. Raised on a few stones placed
around the fires, the sugar kettles were constantly tended
by the M^omen, while 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 tJie
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 torch, 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

factj 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 off his shoes, and while engaged in draw-
ing his stockings down to hide the holes in his heels, he
explained that his apparel had suffered from his journey."

68 Life of Auduhon,

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 peregi-inations, 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 the conversation to the study of
the natural sciences, I listened 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

^he Cane-Brake, 6g

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 Audubon.

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, 7 1

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 VI,

Audubon leaves Cincinnati with Captain Cumming — 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 — Review
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 naturaHst 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.

*'^0n 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 ; 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 Carr^ I
4

74 Life of Audubon.

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 the 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. Carr^, 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 oflered 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.

76 Life of Auduhon,

He suggested that he might assist the artist in filling-in
backgrounds, and was requested to come back.

"I went back again," writes the naturahst, "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 in 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 * All's 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-

yS 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 j 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 v/as hindered
by an engagement from a few pupils. He writes in his
diary : —

" yune 1 6. Left New Orleans in the steamer Colum-

Mrs, Perrie,

79

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 nol
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 the family of Mrs. Perrie, who owned a plan-
tation 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
he 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 Audubon.

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 in it, until he looked like
the cocoon of a silkworm ; and 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, 8i

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 permanently 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 like other people as soon as possible. My
4*

82 Life of Audubon.

friends the Pamars received me kindly and raised my
spirits j 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 Dauphine 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 gayety 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. Baste-
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 husbandry pursued, and how, after
suffering penury, they determined to emigrate to more
fertile lands. He thus graphically narrates the patri-
archal wanderings of the wearied wayfarers.

Early Settlers. 83

" I think I see them harnessing their horses, and
attaching them to their 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 is 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 j 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 they see gliding downwards with the cur-
rent, while others 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 ■L'ifs 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 that 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 fruit 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 dwelling, 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 cordwood. When the next freshet sets
it afloat it is secured by long grape vines or cables, until,
the proper time being arrived, the husband and 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 Audubon,

dog. Its movements are rather slow — it travels across
the snow-covered ground about as fast as a man could
walk — snuffing at every 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
among 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. Prowling
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 rolls 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, and brought them alive to the *ark.' The
poor things were 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 the 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 surprise 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 forwarded to their destination."

CHAPTER VII.

Wife and Sons arrive at New Orleans — Difficnlties of Obtaining
a Livelihood — Recollections of an Eccentric — A Bird fancier
and an Artist — Rifle Practice in a Studio — Atidubon's Ar-
rival at Natchez — Attack of Fever — Raffle of a Drawings
and Results — Audubon studies Oil Painting — The Naturalist
lets loose his Pet Birds — Visit to Bayou Sara — A Den of
Gamblers — Leaves for Louisville with his son Victor — Wan-
derings through the Wilds — Residence at Loidsville — 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 wdfe 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 24. 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 to 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

90 Life of Audubon.

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 me 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. AVith
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 exactly 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.

" July 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

9 2 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.

" yu^y 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 with, 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 it
would be the winning one. The raffle took place in my
absence, and when I returned, my friend the 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
great 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}^man 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 27. 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-
vised me to visit England and take them with me. But
when he 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 fiiends

94 ^\f^ of Audubon,

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.

^^ March, 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
difficult to transfer to canvas. On account of some mis-
understanding, I left the Percy's and returned to Natch-
ez, but did not know what 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 with 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 boy,
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

96 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, py

My son Victor I managed to get into the counting-house
of a friend, 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
5

98 Life of Auduhon,

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, their 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-
tigued 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, gg

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 VIII.

Audubon reaches Philadelphia — Introduction to Sidly the Painter —
Introduction to the Prince of Conino — A Gigantic Etigraver —
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
Dancinz-master.

UDUBON reached Philadelphia on April 5,
1824. The journey to that city was undertaken
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.

T^he Prince of Canino, i o i

^^ April lo. I was introduced to the Prince Caninq
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 drawi;ngs 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

I02 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 ^ the Fainter, 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 j 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.

" July 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 j 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

I04 Life of Audubon,

he did, and I was relieved. This is the second instance
of disinterested generosity I have met with in my Hfe, 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.

" July 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 we 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

" yuly 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 Auduhon,

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 stuffed 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

volume, 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. With my friend Dr. 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 w^hether 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 rpuch 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 calm. 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
come 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 1 o 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
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
any thing else I cared little at the moment. 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
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 Audubon.

soon after took a walk to survey the little village that
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 asked him if he would like one in the same
style of himself. 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 pleased him highly. While working
at him the room became crowded with the village aris-
tocracy. Some laughed, while others expressed their
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
Ibrmer occasions at Pittsburg, which I found was due to
the reception I had met with in Philadelphia, and some
rumors 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
in 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.

^^ Lojiisvilky November 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.

" 1 arrived at Bayou Sara with rent and wasted clothes
and uncut hair, and altogether looking like the Wander-
ing Jew.

" The steamer which brought me was on her way to
New Orleans, and I was put ashore in a small boat about
midnight, and left to grope my way on a dark, rainy, and
sultry night to the village, about one mile distant. That
awf il scourge the yellow fever prevailed, and was taking
off the 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 fiirniture 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 accommodation 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 j but I 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
under 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.

CHAPTER IX.

Audzthon Sails from New Orleans for England on board the Delos —
Incidents of the ' Voyage — Arrival at Liverpool — Liverpool
Friends — Drawings Exhibited by desire in the Royal Institution
— Visit to Manchester — Opening of Subscription-book for great
Work — Edinburgh — Drawings exhibited at the Royal Institu-
tion.

^^^gPRIZ 26//;, 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 Nev/
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 2 J. 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. 119

^^ May 31. 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

lao Life of Auduhon.

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
from his conversation.

" * I am, dear Sir,

" * With sincere regard,

" ' Most truly yours,

" * Vincent Nolte.
*' ' To Richard Rathbonk, 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 beautiful
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 having 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 as it
falls into the sea. Dolphins manifest a very 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 22 nd 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 Auduhon,

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. When 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 was 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

1 24 Life of Auduhon.

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.

" yuly 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 j but he forwarded a polite note, in which he in-
vited me to dine and meet Mr. Roscoe.

" yuly 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 musicians.

^^ 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 collec-

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 ^bout 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
two 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 the form of a seal, and presented it
to me.

At Manchester, 127

* October 6. I returned to Manchester, driven in thi
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 Bakewell, called after some
one of her family.

" I determined to start for Edinburgh, and paying
thre? 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. Was
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 splendid old city.

ia8 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 i. 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.

'^November 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 dravv'ings, 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, now in the
midst of his extensive ornithological publication, spends
many hours a day beside me examining my manner of
6*

130 Life of Auduhon,

work, and he has invited me to make a long visit to his
residence in the country.

"JVovember 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
friend 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 stufied 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 fun 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.

" Decejnber 1. 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-

132 Life of Auduhon,

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 South America, accompanied by
a complimentary note.

^''December 17. 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 phrenologist, 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 the picture at one hundred guineas.

^^ December 2 ^y Chxi's,\xn.2iS. Bought a brooch for Mrs.
Audubon. Astonished that the Scotch have no relig-
ious ceremony on Christmas Day.

134 I^^f^ of Audubon,

" December 2 7. 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 aviar}^ 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'Culloch, 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."

,^^S^S'

CHAPTER X,

Edinburgh — The Royal Society — Scott — Edinburgh People '—Syd'
ney Smith and a Sei'mon — Miss O'Neill the Actress-— Mrs.
Grant of Laggan — Prospectus of the Great Work.

EBRUARY I. Dr. Brewster proposed 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 useful 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

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 ! 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 of 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, v/ho 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 j 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 ian Society. 137

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 Q.gg^ 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 anival,
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 j and if it liung to my heels it would
attract more.

'■^February 11. 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

138 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, and
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 j God
is love, and all his creatures derive theirs from his j only
it is modified by the different degrees of intelligence in
different beings and creatures."

On February 20, he writes, in a long 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

140 Life of Audubon,

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
.lothing 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 vie. 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 from
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
different 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-
ings.

Letter from Sir Walter Scott, 143

"March 8. The weather was dreadful last night,
,vind 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
the 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 the 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 stage as can 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, 14 j

" 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 inteUigent 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 ; 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 young Russian nobleman who was 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.

" The 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 are seen pursuing their prey
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 hand 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, 182Y.
This day my Hair 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 times 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 !

CHAPTER XI.

Vrovincial 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 — dining-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 we 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

150 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 j 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 pallet, 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 ; two at
my boarding house and one at Mr. Havell's, my engrav-
er j 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
s'ery day if I would remain at home : this I promised,

152 Life of Audubon,

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

I

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. Anif
. 7*

154 Life of Auduhon,

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-j
ing whist at a shilling a rubber. I had to wait si^t
weeks before I was presented to him in my positioi]
of ambassador, and then I merely saw him six oi
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, and said that I thought the Duke of Northumber-
land would interest himself for me. Again he laughed,
and assured me 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 lev^e 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.

" June 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
struck 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

156 Life of Auduhon,

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 waiters,
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 ofi" 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*^7

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 two 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 j 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

158 Life of Auduhon,

longer. The family went off, and I felt relieved to know
that they had some employment, and asked him what 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.

" yum 22. 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 I
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 his servant call him * Your Royal Highness.*
I think it ridiculous in the extreme, and cannot imagine
how good Charles can bear it ; but probably he does
bear it because he is Good Charles.

'^ ^uly 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 j 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 two 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,
well deserving of relation, even in my poor humble style
— a style much resembling my painting 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 Auduhon,

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 Waller, 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 — Bxron Cuvier — Reception at^ the Academy of Sci-
ences— Visits to Great Officials — Poverty of French Academy —
More of Cuvier and his Home — Great Gathering at the Institute —
The Report quoted — The Duke of Orleans — • Farewell to France.

N September ist, i828, Audubon quitted London
for Paris, and his diary freshens a Httle 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 Auduhon,

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, and a large gutter filled with dirty black wa-
ter runs through 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 Mus^e, 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 GeofFroy 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 reached 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-
ery, 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 work ; 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, served k la Frangaise : all seemed happy.

164 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 k la Frangaise, very well satis-
fied with this introductory step among the savans Fran-
9ais.

" September 8. Went 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 I
said he would propose to the Academy to subscribe to it,
and if so, it will be a good day's work.

The Louvre, 1 65

" 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'Essling. He told me 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-mor-
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 was about to pass the
gates of the Tuileries, a sentinel stopped me, saying no
one could enter there with a fur cap. I went 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, 1
feasted my eyes and enlarged my knowledge. From
there I made my way 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 V
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

1 66 Life of Auduhon,

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 jDamphlet 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 twenty-
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 lan-
guage in twenty-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 Auduhon.

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 wilHngly 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 represented 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 would not have had even a beginning. It
would have perished like a flower in October ; and I
should have returned to my woods, without the hope of

Baron Cuvier, 169

leaving behind that eternal fame which my ambition, in-
dustry, and perseverance, long to enjoy. Not a sub-
scriber, Lucy j 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 very
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. Oif 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 laboratory, where we found the Baron.
Great men show politeness in a particular way ; they re-
ceive you without much demonstration ; a smile suflices
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 Hzard, through a vial of spirits that contained it. I

fee now his speaking eye, half closed, as \i quizzing

its qualities, and as he wrote ts name with a pencil on a

8

1 70 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 ;' 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 father 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 from 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 portrait,
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 Baron soon expressed himself fatigued, and
went out, and I advised Parker to keep 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 ago. They were only so so.
Meanwhile the Baron named next Thursday for another
sitting.

Redouti

171

^'September 20. This morning I had the pleasure of
seeing the venerable Redout^, the flower -painter /^r^^<:<?/-
lence. 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. Redout^ dislikes all that is not pure Na-
ture j he cannot bear drawings of stufled birds or
quadrupeds, and expressed a desire to see a work where-
in Nature is delineated in an animated way. 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 Boullerie 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. Cuvier, to whom I had no letter, and to whom my
name was unknown before 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 I did not, because I have been two successive Sat-
urdays, and I am afraid of intruding, although the rude
awkwardness I formerly felt has worn nearly smooth.

■ ^^ September 22. This was the grand day appointed
by Baron Cuvier for reading his report on my work at the
French Institute. The French Institute ! Shall I call
it superior to the Royal Academy of London ? I cannot

172 Life of Audubon,

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 ; 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 envy, 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.

" Septe7iiber 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-
fect 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 the 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.

'■'■ Seiitemher 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 M^decin 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 j 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 j 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 magnificient monument which has yet been erected
to ornithology. The author, born in Louisiana, and devot-
ed from his youth to painting, was twenty-five years ago
a pupil in the 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 two 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 Audubon.

twelve francs. As there will be published but five num-
bers a year, the annual expense would not be enormous.
It is desirabje, 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 luxury — 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 the 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

l!he Duke of Orleans. 177

parted at the bottom, in a founding 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.
The v/alls were bare, the floor black and white squares
of marble, 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
recollect ever having seen a finer man, in form, deport-
ment, 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 Audubon.

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 M.
Redoutd' 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 j
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 interview 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 country-
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 grati*
fied to have broken the ice so easily, and my perspira-
tion subsided.

"Gerard was all curiosity to see my drawings, and
old Redoute, 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, admiring 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 northerly 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 XIIL

Return to London — Sets Sail for America — Arrival — Friends it.
New York.

ONDON, 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.

''^November 10. I am painting as much as the short
days will allow j 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^^. 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. My 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 some of my draw-

1 8 2 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 peut ;" 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 begun to make 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

'Hhe Return Home, 1 8 -^

o

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 j 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
servants, 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

184 Life of Auduhon,

cumstances. I was well received in New York by all my
acquaintances, and Dr. Paxallis took me 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 spent
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 Vv-ere 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.
) 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-way
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 Audubon,

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
afford 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*j
tions relative to the object of my visit. The good manl

^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 difficulties, 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
the 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 j 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

i88 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.

" I 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 twenty-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

l^he Great Fine Swamp, 189

mines, and eighty-eight miles distant from Philadelphia.
I had passed through a diversified country, part of which
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 j and although a heav}'
storm was rising, ordered my conductor to proceed. The
weather had become tremendous, and we were 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

190 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 an
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. 191

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 whom, as
Mr. Jedediah Irish, I was introduced. Reader, to de-
scribe to you the qualities of that excellent man, were vain ;
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 assistance 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

192 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 was 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 difiicult 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 Vv^ith 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)-
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 my
friend Irish's camp was first formed, the drenched leader
and his men, about sixty in number, make their way home,
find there a healthful repast, and spend the evening and
a portion of the night in dancing and froHcing 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

194 ^^f^ of Audubon,

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
wild 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, which 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. 19^

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 wilUngly came to the scratch ; but
the assailed soon proved the assailants, and with claw
and tooth drove off the men in a twinkling. Down they
all rushed from the mountain ; the noise spread quickly ;
rifles 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 weeks 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, Mr. 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 anxious to move in their direc-
tion ; and long before daybreak I shook hands 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 my
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 towards my
former lodgings in the Jerseys."

CHAPTER XIV.

The Meeting with his Wife and Sons — Return with his Wife t6
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
Mr. 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

198 Life of Audubon,

Louisiana," he writes, " 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 anything 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, igg

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 was 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 obsen^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-
dced 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,

'^he Eagle, 201

Hntil 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 could 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 ineflectual 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 out
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 ofi" the limb, the butt of which
attracted your notice ; this secured, he put the eagle upon
it, and thus restored the exact resemblance presented
9*

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 ; 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
naturahst a costly ring set with diamonds, as a mark of
his appreciation of the distinguished author.'

" * What's that ? ' said one of the listeners, who was
noted for his slovenly dress and agrarian politics ; * what's
that ? Read that again.'

" The request was complied with.

" ' That's just my idea of these imperial Emperors j
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. We 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 Washing-
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 afterv/ards. 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 Life 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 the city, travelled with him on his journeys to obtain
new subscribers.

" We 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. We 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 pubhshed
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. I 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 awoke 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.

^' 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
two 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 of men called the * gentlemen
of the trade.' Poor Wilson, how happy he would have
been, if he had had it in his power to bear the expenses
oi 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
hmidred 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, who 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 Httle 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 I 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, 1831, 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 went 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 white planks of the
deck j 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,,

210 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
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 ; 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, John s 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 2 th of Februar}', was quite warm, 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 than 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 came 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 snowy flowers of the native orange ;
and the little warblers frisked about the twigs of the
smilax. Nov/, 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 some
friendly ' live oakers,' who had pitched their camp in the
vicinity. After a while the Shark again displayed her
sails, and as she siliently 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 the 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 vv^hich 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, which 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 was 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 rivulet occurred, from which we 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

1 1 4 Life of Auduhon.

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 ; 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 v/e smelt the salt

Out of the Woods. 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 met 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 diflused 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
/inished 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. The trunk now remains connected by only a thin
strip of wood. He places his feet on the part which is
lodged, and shakes it with all his might. Now swings
the huge log under his leaps, now it suddenly gives way,
and as it strikes upon the ground, its echoes are repeated
through 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

21 8 Life of Audubon.

has been attacked by white rot. If such has unfoitunate-
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 *wind 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 woods 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

219

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 arrangements 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, * live 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 shanty, 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 Auduhon,

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 reality, 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, who 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 XVI.

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 ordinar}' 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 meridian 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,
not a living being crossed his path j 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 anxiety, it
was wending its way to the miry 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 heavy and
chilling dew. Alas ! no moon, with her silvery light,
shone on the dreary scene, and the losi one, wearied and
vexed, laid himself down on the damp ground. Prayer

224 -^^/^ of Audubon.

is alwa} s consolatory to man 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. 11 c^

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.
With 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 weary 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 ; forty 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 rowers 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 1 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."

CHAPTER XVII.

Thij-d Florida Episode: Sprijtg Garden.

\A VI NG 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 Bulow, 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-
girths of our horses. Here and there large tracts covered
with tall grasses, and resembling the prairies of the west-
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
were 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 was 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-

230 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 j 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 '■ sal amander,' 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 j 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 Audubon,

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,

Woodruff's Lake, 2^^

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 nympheae, 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 tmios 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 * Woodruff's 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 fruits
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 ^^f^ of Auduhon.

Colonel Rees informed me that this charming retreat
was one of the numerous terrce incognitcB of this region ol
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 Episode : Deer Hunting.

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

2^6 Life of Audubon,

of our deer, were it not my intention to lay before you.
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 agility,
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 ; 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.

I

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. Shall 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 feehngs. * 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 must 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-

238 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 trees 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 j
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. 239

ble portions of the flesh, unless hunger or a near market
induces them to carry off the hams.

" The mode of destroying deer hyJire-Hght, or, as it is
named in some parts of the country, forest-light, never
fails to produce a very singular feeling 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 want, 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 j 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 the. 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

i

Beer-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 j 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 ! All is in
vain, however ; a gun is fired, the animal plunges, and
doubles with incomparable speed. There he goes ; 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 called 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 Auduhon.

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 the 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."

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 where ' 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 ; 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 diflerent kinds
looked not unlike a small haycock. Who 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 ofi" 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. The 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

246 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, weei3ing
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 everywhere 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 subHme and awful
storm, I gazed around me. The waters drifted like snow j
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, I 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
* 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 difiiculties in reaching that key might to
some seem more imaginary than real, were I faithfully to

248 Life of Audubon,

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
excessive 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 heavy
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."

^'^^^Q^B^^mMy^^^^^

CHAPTER XX.

Seventh Florida Episode : The Wreckers.

ONG before I reached the lovely islets that
border the south-eastern shores of the Floridas,
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 with 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 Auduhon,

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

'The 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
the 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

252 Life of Audubon,

mail at Charleston, adding that they were for their wives
down east. So anxious did 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 12th 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 determined 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 werfi
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.

'The 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 eveiy 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 livery 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 Life 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 fonned. We landed, and
were soon on the scent, some going in search of shells,
others of birds. An Indian who had 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

l!he Wreckers 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 woot ;
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 passing 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 choms was trolled by
twenty or thirty voices, which in the stillness of the night
produced no unpleasant effect.' "

CHAPTER XXI,

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, we' 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 Hne 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 ; 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 well-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 ia-

^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
business 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 deep 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 handspikes 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 the
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.

Habits of the turtle, 16

J

" 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
{Zostera 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 hawk-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 moUusca, 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 been satiated with tur-
tle soup j 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 Auduhon,

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 turtler 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, which ' my friends'
really relished exceedingly, and w^hich served to support
them for a long time. Turtles such as I have spoken of
are 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 turtler had an iron instrument
which he called a *peg,' and which at each end had a
point, not unlike what nailmakers call a bradj it being

"Hurtle Catching. 265

four-cornered, but ilattish, 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, was 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 w'ooden spear, until a
turtle 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 w^ould 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, which 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 were 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 far 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, akhough I have it not from my own ocular evidence,
but from report. When I was in Florida several of the
turtlers assured me, that any turtle taken from the depos-
12

266

Life of Audubon,

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, either 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,
after visiting different countries, once more returns to the
bosom of his cherished family."

CHAPTER XXIL

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 glanced from the
trembling surface of the waters around, the officer 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 when 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 paddling along a sandy shore, which I 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 thous-
ands of bull-frogs in a neighboring swamp might lull me
to rest, and I looked upon the flocks of black-birds that
were assembling as sure companions in this secluded re-
treat.

a 6 8 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 m.y 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, stopped 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 grass.
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 ; when
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 surveyed 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 v/ho 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 to
bathe his temples, he revived, his pulse resumed some
strength, and I be^an to hope that he might perhaps sur-
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, — 'it 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, and let me die alone.'

" With the hope that I might learn from his conversa-
tion something that might lead to the capture of his
guilty associates, I returnr^d 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 j 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 tlie grass grow. My wounds are mortal,
and I 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

272 Life of Audubon,

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,
.he 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 j 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-
died from the cove, with a secret joy for my escape,
overshaded with the gloom of mingled dread and
horror. '

CHAPTER XXIIl.

In America : Episode in New 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-
il: aid 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
inhabitants 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 un-
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

- ^he St, Johns River, 275

crowded state of her cabin soon began to prove rather
disagreeable. The boat itself was a mere scow, 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 which rode a negro youth
less than half clad, 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 j 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, we 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 a la cordelle.
Some miles further we passed a curious cataract, formed
by 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 in 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 whole length, and perhaps the best now in
the Union. It was incomplete, however, for some miles,
so that our travelling over that portion was slow and dis-
agreeable. The rain, which fell in torrents, reduced the
newly-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 very 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, quadrupeds, 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 beaut3^ 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 unruffled 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 the 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 firm, 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 afterwards
carried. These good fellows were so averse to our rec-
ompensing them for their labor that, after some alterca-

I

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 ; 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 j 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 a 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.
GiUies, 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 formed 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, two 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 Xo 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 their 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 Audubon.

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, when
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.

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 Mumberers.' 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 they 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 temperate

282 Life of Auduhon.

men ; for in them, as indeed in most of the inhabitants of
our Eastern States, education and habit have tempered
the 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 wines, but they were
always drunk in careful moderation. But to return to
the 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 is applied
to the labor, as if in gratitude to those who treat them
with so much gentleness and humanity,

" While present, on more than one occasion, at what
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 which took place a few miles from the
fair and hospitable dty of Boston, There I saw fifty or
more ploughs drawn by as many pairs of oxen, which per-
formed their work with so much accuracy and regularity,
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 the
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 j rough bedsteads, manufactured

Wood Cutting in Winter, 283

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 their cattle, w-hich
are laid on the ground. All arranged within, the lumber-
ers set around their camp their ' dead falls,' large * steel
traps,' and * spring guns,' 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 resounds on the ground ;
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 white covering has become thickly and firmly crusted
by the increasing intensity 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 Life of Audubon.

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 j 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
afibrd 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 was 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 which I feel to gratify
you will induce me to use all my endeavors to give you
an idea of it. It was 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 would 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 morning to
go and witness the extraordinary effect which would be
produced by the breaking down of the barrier, and we all

0.S6 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 which 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
waters 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 tliat 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 become 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

T!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
wTcck : 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 ih.Q fo7'ce of the
waters J^

CHAPTER XXV,

Visit to the Bay of Fundy.

SrapHILE visiting Eastport, Audubon made a trip to
WyS the Bay of Fundy and some of its neighboring
^fl^l 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
with 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 relieved 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 of
resort, and ere long we had satisfactorily observed their
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

290 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,

91

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 thanks 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-
lowed 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 clucks, 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

292 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 water 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, every 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 wild 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, with a capital dredge, and in
another searched along the shore for eggs. The Passama-
quoddy chief is seen gliding swiftly 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 j 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 with 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 L^f^ of Audubon.

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 FtindyJ^

CHAPTER XXVI,

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 Caitseau.

ROM Frederickton Audubon returned 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 Audubon 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 country.
" 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 j but thanks to Providence and my
medical friends, Parkman, Shattuck, and Warren, I was
soon enabled to proceed with my 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-

2g6 Life of Auduhon,

ing me to Labiador, I returned eastward with 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 CooUdge."

The schooner Ripley was chartered at Boston for lif-
teen hundred dollars for the trip to Labrador. The
journal containing the narrative begins at Eastport.

" June 4, 1833. The day has been fine, and I dined
with Captain Childs, 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, crying
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.

''^ June 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 Labrador ; 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

i

T!he Bay of Funiy, ig"]

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.

" jfwt^ 7. This morning found us riding at anchor
near some 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 the 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 in direful apprehension of some im-
pending evil ; although, about twelve, squalls of wind de-
cided in our favor, and when day dawned the wind was
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.

" yune 8. We sailed between Seal and Mud Islands.
In the latter the procellaria (a species of gull) breed
abundantly ; 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 every 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 Floridas, 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 whom 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 the 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, with 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-
erally 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 thirty 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 whole crew, by three o'clock every
morning except 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 Audubon.

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 the 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 the 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 w^ith
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 vertebrae 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, which 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. This 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 quantity of eggs,
and allow them to remain a minute or so, when 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
your best guinea-fowl has just dropped in your barn-
yard j but let us return to the cod-fish. The fish already
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 j while others, armed with poles, enter the water,
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 this 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 twine
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 drying 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 who 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^i the coast of Labra-
dor."

"^m^

CHAPTER XXVII.

En Route to Labrador — Giit of Canseau — Magdalene Island — Thl
Inhabitants — Ornithological Notes — Birds on the Rock — First
Impressions of Labrador — Halifax Eggers.

" yu7ie 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 ; 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.

" yune 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

'Ihe Gut of Canseau. 307

height j 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 w^ere 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 v^as 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 ;
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.

" yune 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 dry
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. Guillemots were seated up-
right along the projecting shelvings in regular order,
resembling so many sentinels on the look-out ; 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.

''June 14, I833. Magdalene Islands, Gulf of St.
Lawrence. It is one week since v/e 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 sav/. 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 bavins: no covering: but a little shirt.

l!he Church.

30^

The mother was dressed in coarse French homespun, with
a close white cottcn nightcap on her 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, stafi" 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

3IO 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
w^ere 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°.

" jfune 15. 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 was the Rock j 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 whole 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, foggy-
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 cHmb 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 rows 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.

" June 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.

" Jime 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. im. the wind
sprung up fair, and we made all sail for Labrador.

^^ June 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 country 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 was 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 were anchored v/ithin 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 J^^f^ 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.

" jftme 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 rotten 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.

" y^ime 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.

" yime 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
wiry grass, 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

l!he Egg ^rade. 3 1 5

river, and the fish entangle their fins in trying 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.

^^ jfime 23. We heard to-day that a party 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 ; 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 5'oung ones are raised.
These wonderful nurseries 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.

CHAPTER XXVIIL

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 aij2 the pest of the feathered tribes, and their
brutal propensity 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

3i8 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 them !
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 egg 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 tlieir 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.
?/[ark them, as with clumsy fingers they clear their
drowsy eyes j 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 memory, 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 Auduhon.

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 industiT 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, they 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
third 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 bor.t ;
advance, impelled by the regular pull of their long oai -.

Fishermen s 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 ^gg 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 wretches 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 work 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 way. 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 country, were exceedingly abun-
dant twenty years ago, have abandoned their ancient
14*

322 Life of Audubon.

breeding-places, and removed much farther north, in
search of peaceful security. Scarcely, in fact, could I
procure a young guillemot before the eggers had left the
coast, nor was 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 Ciitter —
The Fur Company — Severe Weather — Winds and Rain — Excur-
sions on Shore — Hut of a Labrador Seal-Catcher — Great Maca-
ti7ie 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 were 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.

" yune 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 : these lakes con-

Extermination of Animals. 325

tain carp, trout, white fish, and many mussels unfit _ to
eat ; the latter are described as black outside and purple
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 fiael. 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. When 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 ?

" J^mie 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
the 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.

" ^ufte 26. We have now been waiting five days for

326 Life of Audubon.

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.

" yu7ie 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.

" J^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.

" Jime 29. At three o'clock this morning we were
about fifteen miles from land, and fifty from 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 went to another about a mile distant,
and caught many birds and collected many eggs.

" June 30. I have drawn three birds to-day since eight
o'clock. Thermometer 50°.

" Jidy I. The thermometer 48°, and the weather so
cold that it has been painful for me to draw, but I worked
all day.

" July 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 thrown 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 everywhere, 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 m.oss 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 shrubbery, 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
3tep 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
clo.uds filled with frost and snow, and inspiring him with
a feehng 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.

" yuly 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 trying 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 anywhere.

" July 6. Thermometer 48°. At noon my fingers
i\'ere so coM that I could no longer hold my pencil to

230 Life of Audubon.

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.

" y?//v 7. Drawing all day ; finished the female grouse
and five young ones, and preparing the male bird.

" July 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.

" yuly 9. The wind east, wet, disagreeable, and foggy.
This is the most wonderful climate in the world ; the
thermometer 52°, mosquitoes in profusion, plants bloomi-
ing by milhons, and at eveiy 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 lo- 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.
Nay, 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.

^^ jfuly 11. 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 some
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.

"July 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
diawing 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.

'* July 14. Awoke this morning to find a cold north-
east wind blowing, and ourselves twenty miles from our
destination, a heavy 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 mile 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 the 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,

333

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.

^^ yuly 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 ten the rain poured, and the 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 tliese 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 ^^f^ of Audubon,

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 difficulty in
traveUing. 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 the heart 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
country. 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 Bay, 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
nothing to do now-a-days. We found 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 So, 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 wrecked 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.

^^July 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,

^^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.

"jfuly 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 we visited the officers of the 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 were 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 was 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 repHed, I think not, 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 her 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."

" y^u/y 2 2. 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.
We 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 whale'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
15

22^ Life of Auduhon,

three to five guineas for black and silver fox skins, and
others in proportion. In the months 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, whilst 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 reaching home, they push the seals
from the sledges with 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 v/olves, 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 were old acquaintances. They
do not take to the water, and are fit only for draught and
the chase of caraboos j and they are the only dogs which
can at all near the caraboo while running.

" 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 herds, 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, drinks, and sleeps his life away, careless of the busy
world, and of all that is going on there. His partner has
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

34^ Life of Audubon,

came with six men to pay 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, sliould they catch one before we leave this place for
Bras d'Or.

" July 2 3. 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
newspapers. 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
about 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 that this
sea-like lake is at times as rough as the ocean in a storm.
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 caraboo 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."

^''jfiily 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."

" jfuly 26. We left our anchorage, and sailed with a
fair wind to visit the Chevalier's settlement, called Bonne
Esp^rance, 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 nothing 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.

'' Ju^y 27. 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 of 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 w^ork 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 with 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 serves
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 w^ell-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 aie
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 always
travel in a gallop, no matter wdiat the state of the country
may be. Going down hill is most difficult and danger-
ous, and at times it is necessary 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. When 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, who 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 L^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 the

l!he Fuligula Fusca. 34^

French name into the English of " Nancy Belong." To-
wards evening the storm abated, and although it is now
almost calm, tl^e sea runs 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 would 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 soitpeep, 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
w^as so shy, that we 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*

2^6 Life 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 while she remained in the pond, wath a
short squeaking note by no means unpleasant.

^^ July 2C). Bras d'Or. Another horrid stormy 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 this morning early to a place called Port
Eau, eighteen miles distant, to try to buy some Esqui-
maux mocassins and dresses. They 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 draw-
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 cHmate
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 wAth. the essence of cod-fish.

" y^uly 30. The morning was beautiful when 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.

" J?'^//y 31. Another horrid hurricane, accompanied by
heavy rain, and the vessel rolling so that I cannot go on
with my drawing.

^^ August I. The vv^eather has quite changed, the wind
blows from the south-west; 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 resembles that of loud distant thunder.

34B l^ife of Audubon.

These icebergs are common here all summer, being waft-
ed from the lower end of the straits with every heavy
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 ; 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 determined 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 injur}^
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 alone: the coast.

I^he Birds Migrating. 349

" August 4. It is wonderful how quickly every 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
country, 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 country, 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 ; 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

2^0 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 very same river,
creek, or even hole, to deposit their spawn, as the birds
do to their former nest or b-uilding-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 know await them there.

" August lo. I now sit down to post up my poor book,
while a furious gale is blowing without. 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 graver."

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.

|0 where you 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 employed to accumulate property form the
subject of the observations 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 T 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 whom 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 Almighty, al-
though necessary everywhere, seems there peculiarly re-
quired to enable them to procure the means of subsist-
ence. j\Iy curiosity having been raised, I betook myself
to my boat; landed on the rock, and scrambled to the

^^2 Life of Auduhon,

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 very 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 in Labrador. 2^S'^

quitoes, 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 that his barrel of
rum 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-
l>ect 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
Miappy as a lord.' Before parting with this fortunate
mortal, I inquired how his dogs managed to find sufficient
food. ' Why, sir, during spring and summer they ramble
along the shores, where they m^eet 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 diffv

354 ^\f^ 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 the
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- tiiere 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 parts 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, ^SS

eluded himself from t/ie world. 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 la-wyers, no taxes are here.
I do pretty much as I choose. My 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 world 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 countrymen, my
sons the daughters of my neighbors, and I hope all of
them will 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 (iislike to all fisher-
men and eggers, and I really believe was 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-d'Or that 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-d'Or 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, I desire

;^^6 Life of Auduhon.

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-d^Or, I paid a visit to
Mr. J the brother-in-law, who lived in a house im-
ported from Quebec, which fronted the strait of Belle Isle,
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 fr6m her seat, 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 was poured out for us in clean
glasses. It was a pleasing sight, for not a cow had we
yet seen in 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 Instrument.

SI

pai/ed, but would return that season, when the whole of
her children would again perform many beautiful airs, for
in fact 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 recomposed their features. Telling the fair one
it must be a hand-organ she used, she laughingly said,
' Oh, 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 was in the harbor
caulking an old schooner. He dined with me 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 w^alked 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

2^S Life 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 Bras-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."

CHAPTER XXXI.

A'oics on Labrador — Gidf of St. Lawrence — St. George's Bay, New^
foundland — The Village — Fishermen and Women — Indian Wig-
•warns — Beating About at Sea — Land on Ruy's Island — Wander-
ings Overland — Picion — Truro and the Bay of Fundy — Arrival
at Halifax, Nova Scotia — Arrival at Nezv York, and Calctdation
of Expenses.

UGUST 11. 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 \vere 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 sailing before the wind in full sight of
the south-west coast of Newfoundland, the mountains of
which are high, spotted with drifted snow-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 tlie 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 Auduhon,

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 our friends in safety and find 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 the 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 fair 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 ;
there is not a single obstruction within 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 village,
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-east. 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

Sl 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 men boarded us from a small boat
and assisted us as pilots. They had a half barrel of
fme 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. Mackerel, and sharks of the
man-eating kind, are 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 the 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
the 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 who had a pail of water, 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-
wards 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 people 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
mixed 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
completely 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, 3 ^^^

the bargain. I spent part of the day drawing, and then
visited the wigwanls 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 m.a-
king baskets, and others came in from collecting a fruit
called here the baked apple {RuhtLs chamcBfirous), 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
bays 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 poor 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 tender 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 Audubon,

remain here in statu quo. The truth is, we have deter-
mined not to leave this harbor without'afair 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
Jhe 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 j he complained of the poverty of the
country and the disadvantages he experienced from the
privileges granted to the French 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 who 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 said 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 Newfoundland 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 1 8th of August at daylight the wind promis-
ed to be fair, and although it was rather cloudy we broke

At Pictou^ Nova Scotia, 2^S

our anchorage, and at five o'clock were under weigh. We
coasted 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 day. 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 failed, 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."

" August 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 shore, 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,

wishes 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 perfectly
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 lay in the harbor loading with
coal. The village located at the bottom of a fine bay on
the north-west side looked well, although small. Three

Professor McCuUough, 367

churches appeared above the rest of the buildings, 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 McCullough, 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, were all
present. The more I saw and talked with the professor,
the more I was pleased with 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 ray 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^ '^ tho^""'"'^ "■ — '^

368 Life of Audubon,

" 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 hungry, and
stopped at a house to dine, and 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 'TrurOy Nova Scotia. 369

up with us, and told us he would see us to-morrow at
fruro. Towards sunset we arrived in sight of this pret-
ty, loosely-built village, near the head-waters 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, which the hotel where we
stopped 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 McCullough
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 sixty-four miles, in the morning, to avoid
riding all night in the mail-coach, but could not succeed.
Mr. McCullough then took me to the residence of Sam-
uel G. Archibald, Esq., Speaker of the Assembly, who 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
the head of the famous Bay of Fundy, and several brooks
run through the valley emptying 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
16*

370 Life of Audubon,

trunk is gasping to swallow this book, and I must put it
in and be off.

" August 24. 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 was 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 10 the hoot of the owls, which
sounded out from the woods, and the rest of the party,
excepting Coolidge and myself, sl'ept soundly, while w^e
v/ere 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 w^as spent in fumbling
round with ropes to tie our vehicle together. At length
the day dawned beautifully, and I ran ahead of the coach
for a mile or so to warm myself; and when 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 breakfast-
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 impossible
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
reached the breakfast ground, at a house 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 eftbrts 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.

" We 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 Audubon.

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 we 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 riiusic, 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 wharves, and v/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 bandyV

" 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 Edward! s Lodge, 373

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 j 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-
rnon 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 wiiich the

374 I^^f^ of Audubon.

president and rector reside. We 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 the coast of Labrador. The bed of the river,
which is here about one mile wide, was quite bare as far
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-
ty-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 \.o the
wharves, had a singular appearance. We 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

• 6*/. Johns by Moonlight, ^375

ill search of birds in this vicinity. The record for the daj
concludes : " We intended to have paid our respects to
Mr. Halliburton, author of the ' Description of Nova
Scotia,' and other works, but we learned that he was in
Boston, where I heartily wished myself.

'■'■ Eastporty Maine, August 2,^ , '^'^ZZ- 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 Brunswick, 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 j
and I am now preparing to leave for Boston as soon as
possible."

The account of the voyage concludes with this sen-
tence :

"We reached New York on the morning of the '7th
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 t?o Dr. Parkman, which he advanced to Dr. Shat-
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."

%

CHAPTER XXXII.

yournal Resumed — Washmgt07i L'ving — Wanderings South — Florida
Excursion Abandoned—Returns North — Sails for England-
Visit to Baron Rothschild — Removal to Edinburgh — Return to
London — Embarks with uitcch Live Stock to New York — Notes
by the Way.

EPTEMBER 7, 1833. After Audubon's return
from Labrador he remained three weeks in New
York, 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.

Septemher 25. Mr. and ]\Irs. Audubon left New York
for Philadelphia on their way to Florida, leaving their son
John to sail from New York by water, " with all our arti-
cles of war," for Charleston, where 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 was 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. 377

ter, and as evincing, moreover, how Audubon was es-
dmated by his friends :

" Philadelphia, September 30, 1833.
" 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 the 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
v/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 will 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 man ; 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. McKenney.
" To the Hon. Lewis Cass, Secretary of War,
Washington City,"

'''■Richmond^ Virginia, October {110 date). Travelling
through the breeding-places of our species is far from being
as interesting to me as it is to inspect the breeding-places

378 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 single 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 him.

" 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 was 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,
determined 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 assistance of the Secretary
of War, w^hen 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 eyes than their
mouths were 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. We 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,

380 Life of Auduhon,

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
from 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 j I hunted for new birds
or searched 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 v/as 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 tow^ard 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 ; went 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 j 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." After 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 of 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 Audubon,

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 a 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 honored 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 days afterwards I sent the first volume of my
work half bound, and all the numbers besides, then pub-

l!he Baron Rothschild. 383

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 Baron 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 j 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 journal was
written chiefly with the design to keep his wife and chil-
dren informed of all his doings when he was absent from
them, and they 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 Life of Audubon,

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 fi"om that date, the
third volume, containing six hundred and thirty-eight
pages, was printed and published.

In the summer of 1836 he removed his family to
London, and having settled them in Wimpole-street, C?x-
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.

yuly 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 Torh Packet. 385

antly, until we approached the banks of Newfoundland,
when we began to fear and dream of icebergs and disas-
ters j 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 welcome 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 revelry ; 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 XXXIIL

In America — Philadelphia — Boston — Friends and Birds — Meeting
with Daniel Webster — Back to New 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 Swan, 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.

" Septemler 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 j 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 Tovvnsend 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 thern. Is not this a
noble generosity to show for the love of science t "

^'' 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 the
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, that 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

388 Life of Auduhon.

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
very 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.

" Septefnber 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 were in this
line 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 Philadelpliia, 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. 389

dent Tinnay of Harvard University, where I saw his fam-
ily ; and then to Judge 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 Anierica ' 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
went 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

3 90 I^^fe 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 w^hich 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.

" September 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 Qgg 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 m3^self 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 work 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. Webster gave me the following
note : —

" * I take this mode of commending Mr. Audubon to

;j^2 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 ornithology, 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, conversing 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 13. 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 Swartwout'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 went off in good style, and I greatly
enjoyed myself. Several of the party invited me to visit

Dinner with S. Swartwout.

39Z

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.

IV*

3 94 ^^f^ of Audubon. '

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 Washington, and I am sure you will
do anything in your power 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 oar 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.

*Tarrytown, October, 19, 1836.
My dear Sir,

I take pleasure in introducing to you our distin-
guished and most meritorious countryman, 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 Honorable Martin Van Bcren."

" 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, and give you an an-
swer to-morrow.' The general looked well, 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-
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 was any-
thing but gratifying ; but he made many courteous prom-
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 Owm,
he asked me to dine with him to-day, and to-morrow to
visit the curious chimney-sweep possessing curious knowl-

Celebrities in Washington, 397

edge of the Sora Rail, a water bird vulgarly supposed to
bury 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. Woodbur}^ 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 carrying 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 naval 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
frigates 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^ ^\f^ of Audubon.

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 enfa7niUe. 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,

Bines with General Jackson, ^99

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 and much evil to our
country."

--^^^^l^ffla^^tr.

>^0oo

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Excursion South — Starts in Cutter for Galveston Bay^ Texas — Bara-
taria Bay — Great Htmting Excursion with a Squatter — Notes 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. We
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 two 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
Quadmpeds 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 January and the ist of April, under which latter date

Bar at aria Bay. 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 T^. We were joined this day by Captain W. B.
G. Taylor, of the Revenue service, 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 History.
In the course of one of these rambles, Audubon made
the acquaintance of a squatter, a great hunter, and with
v/hom 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 throughHhe 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 country 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
Vv^ild and solitary 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 F anther 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 whom 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 a 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 quahty. Few words were uttered by the party
until we had reached the edge of the swamp, v/here 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 coug-ar. 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
day ; 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 very 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 j 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 24. 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, v,^ho informed us that two 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 63°, 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 Secretaiy 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 v/e 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 v/ere 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

tlesnake, 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 sav/ about
twenty-five, and killed four.

^^ April 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 Bay\ May i, 1837. I was 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 observed 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 Mexican 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
18

41 o Life of Audubon.

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. When we were returning to the vessel
we discovered a large sv/ord-fish grounded on one of the
sandbanks, and after a sharp contest killed her with our
guns. In what 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 were packed, all
of them alive and wriggling 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 town of New Washington,
owned mostly by Mr. Swartwout the collector of customs
of New York. We passed several plantations ; and the

At Houston, 'Texas. 411

general appearance of the country was more pleasing than
otherwise. About noon we entered Buffalo Bayou, at
the 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.

"May 15. We landed at Houston, the capital of Texas,
drenched to the skin, and were kindly received on board
the steamer Yellow Stone, Captain 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 scenery. 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.

" We walked towards the President's house, accom-
panied by the secretaiy of the navy, 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 liberty 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 j 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.

" 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
eapitol, 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 him,
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
A^alked from one of the gi'og-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 observed
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 with 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
twenty-first of last April, and were informed that a brave
tar, who rigged the Texan flag on that occasion, had been

414 ^'^f^ 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 j 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 Orleaiis^ 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 twelve pounds in weight. He found New
Orleans nearly deserted, and dull, and the weather op-
pressively hot and disagreeable.

" May 31. We bid adieu to our New 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 Audubon,

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 Western Prairies — Up the Missouri — Rivet
Pictures — Indians — The Mandans — The ^^ Medicine Lodge''''—'
Ricaree Indians — Fort Union — Arrival at Yellow Stone River —
Btiffalo Hunt — Stnall-Pox among the Indians — Return to Neiv
York,

ARCH 11, 1843. 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 our 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 this 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-

41 8 Life of Audubon,

tains to Wheeling, went from there to Cincinnati and St
Louis by steamers, where they arrived on the 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 j)lace, 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 30. 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 -i^i. 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. We 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 fifty 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, which 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. We 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 Audubon.

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-starved
Indians awaited our arrival ; 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.

^^ 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 freshet.

''''May II. The officers of this post last July were
nearly destitute of provisions, and they sent off twenty

At Council Bluffs. ^2 1

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 utteily 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 with 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 without a chew of to-
bacco, and I pity the poor creatures with all my heart.

" This evening we came to the Burial-ground Bluff j
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 than
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 another 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, the
land along the river banks is higher than further inland j
tangled brushwood and tall reeds grow along the margins,
while the prairies abound with mud and muddy water.
Willows are plenty, 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 fall back time and again until they are ex-
hausted ; 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
ly 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
to 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 dry, 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 flowers, the roots were woody,
leaves ovate and attached in fives. When dry, the apple
is hard as wood, and has to be pounded for use.

The country grew poorer the farther they ascended

4^4 L.\fe of Auduhon,

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.

" 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.

^^ May 29. This morning a party 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 were 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 wolf 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 Opposition Line.'
We saw some Indians, and a. few lodges on the edge 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 3^et thirty miles below St. Pierre, and do not
expect to reach it until to-morrow. Indians were seen
along both sides of the river,: 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 walk 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 was'
on a buffalo-hunt, a cow hooked his horse, and threw him
about twenty i^tt^ and injured his ankle. This he
thought remarkable, as the cow had not been wounded.
He showed me a petrified head of a wolf, which I dis-
covered to be not a wolfs 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.

jfune 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.dll
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,

" ytme 2. We have left St Pierre and are going on up
the river, deeper and deeper in the wilderness. We
passed the Cheyenne River, Vv'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 sixty miles ; the country is much poorer
than any we have passed below, and tlie sand-bars are
much more intricate.

" yune 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 eighteen 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. 42J

" ymie 7. We are now at Fort Clark and the Mandan
village j 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, pumpkins, 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 rain, wrapped 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 thieves, 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 six feet long by four feet in width. We entered
this curiosity-shop by pushing aside an elk-skin stretched

428 Life of Audubon.

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 repty. 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 abode 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 j 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 after 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

An 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 day 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 be desired, 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.

" ^une 8. To-day we have had a famous Indian coun-
cil on board our boat. It consisted of thirty-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
table ; the captain then made a speech to them^ and one
Indian interpreted it to the others. They frequently ex-
pressed their approbation by grunting, and were evident-
ly much pleased. Two Indians came in, dressed in blue
uniforms, with epaulettes on their shoulders, and feathers
in their caps, and with ornamented mocassins and leg-

430 J-'^f^ of Audubon,

gings : these were the braves of the tribe^ and they did
not grunt or shake hands with any of us.

" As soon as the tobacco was distributed, the whole
company rose simultaneous!}^, 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°, ^Z"^.
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 ; 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.

" ^ime 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.

^wte 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
aiTived 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 own 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 what would be the
fatal consequences. The Indians sent back word that
their 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 j 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 was
confined to them, and they supposed the whites had
caused it, and saved themselves and the Ricarees from
the pestilence j 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
stenchj 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 always think of him and forgive his meditated

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
writers, 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 de»
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 m.ornings 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 hunting 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.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Audubon'' s Last Days — His Habits — Love of Music — Description
cf Audubon Park — His Library and Studio — Visitors — Ex~
hibition of Drawings — Mental Gloaming — Loss of Sight —
The Naturalisf s 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

4.36^ Lifs 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 would 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
<ind 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 startle the wild, beau-

438 Life of Audubon,

tiful 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 ; 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.

" ' This,' 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 wondei

His Last Days, 439

that men can consent to swelter and fret their lives away
amid those hot bricks and pestilent vapors, when the
icvoods and fields are all so 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 very 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 un-
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 L[U 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 Bays. 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 native 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 beauty 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
Hfe agreeable, I lift my grateful eyes towards the Supreme
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, 1851,
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 ajDproaching 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.

-s/

^yjim 19 i^iv

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Audubon, John James

The life of John James
Audubon