engagements to teach drawing, or to paint portraits, as they kept him away from his beloved woods and birds. In his Diary, July 8, 1822, he writes:- While work flowed upon me, the hope of completing my book upon the Birds of 'America became less clear; and, full of despair, I feared my hopes of becoming known to Europe as a naturalist were 'destined to be blasted.'

The reader must refer to his biographer if he would follow Audubon as he wandered from place to place, now pleased, now disgusted with the people; at one time teaching drawing to pupils, at another painting portraits, the interior of a steamboat, or views of American scenery, in order to procure the necessaries of life.

Audubon has given a graphic account of the devastation caused by the overflows of the great Mississippi; it overflows its banks and sweeps inland

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 recesses where the trailing vine and umbrageous foliage dim the light of the noonday sun. In islets left amid the waste, deer in thousands are driven; and the squatter with his gun and canoe, finds on those refuges the game which he slaughters remorselessly for the skins and feathers that will sell. Floating on a raft made fast by a vine rope to some stout trees, the farmer and his family preserve their lives, while the stream bears away their habitation, their cut wood, their stores of grain, their stock, and all their household goods. . . . I have floated on the Mississippi and Ohio when thus swollen, and have in different places visited the submerged land 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 carcase on which it was allaying its craving appetite. Bears, congars, lynxes, and all other quadrupeds that can ascend the trees, are observed crouching among their top branches; hungry in the midst of abundance, although they see flocking around them the animals on which they usually prey. They dare not venture to swim to them. Fatigued by the exertions which they have made in reaching 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 of waters. On occasions like this, all these animals are shot by hundreds.'

Whilst Audubon was in Philadelphia, in the spring of 1824,

he was introduced to Charles Lucien Buonaparte, Prince of Canino, who, as we have already said, was engaged on the Ornithology of America.' Buonaparte examined Audubon's drawings, and was complimentary in his praises.' Audubon found him very gentlemanly.' The Prince took him to Peel, the artist, who was drawing birds for his work. Audubon did not appear to think much of them; from want of knowledge 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.' Audubon then went with the Prince to Mr. Lawson, who engraved Wilson's plates. This gentleman-whose figure

nearly reached the roof,' whose face was sympathetically long,' and 'whose tongue was so long' that there was no opportunity to speak in his company-thought Audubon's drawings too soft, too much like oil-paintings, and objected to engrave them. Audubon here characteristically observes that another engraver, Mr. Fairman-the name is significant-was better able to appreciate his drawings. He advised him to go to England and have them engraved in a superior manner.' This advice seems to have taken a firm hold of Audubon. The Prince of Canino engaged him to superintend his drawings intended for publication; but Audubon adds, my terms being 'much dearer than Alexander Wilson asked, I was asked to '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 existed. I worked ' incessantly to complete my series of drawings.' In his Diary, August 1st, 1824, Audubon records that he was in good health, free from debt, and free from anxiety about the future.' He was then in New York. Here he again met the Prince of Canino; he visited the museum, and found the specimens of stuffed birds set up in unnatural and constrained attitudes. This appears to me,' he says, 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.' It is absurd to suppose that Alexander Wilson copied Audubon, who could not depict birds in the act of flying; several of his birds assume a grotesque and impossible attitude, so that how far he drew from nature is questionable.

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Audubon was fortunate in the possession of a most noble and self-denying wife, and in her presence he forgot his troubles and was spurred on to renewed exertions. Not only did Mrs. Audubon cheer the naturalist by her kindness and self-denial,

but at one time her industry and talents brought her nearly three thousand dollars a year, which she generously offered to forward the publication of her husband's long-cherished work. Audubon here adds that he resolved by new efforts to increase his finances; accordingly he turned dancing-master; and, with his fiddle under his arm, entered the ball-room. How I toiled,' he says, before I could get one graceful step or motion! I broke my bow and nearly my violin in my excitement and 'impatience.' A dancing-master and a backwoodsman can both be impersonated by Audubon. However, the dancing speculation brought two thousand dollars, and, with this capital and my wife's savings,' he remarks, I was now able to fore'see a successful issue of my great ornithological work.' In England he expected to find the fame given to all heroes so 'tardily in their own country.'

Audubon sailed for Liverpool in April, 1826. He had obtained many letters of introduction to friends in England, and amongst them one to Mr. Richard Rathbone, a name long remembered and justly honoured by the people of Liverpool. Audubon's object was to find a purchaser and a publisher for his drawings, upwards of four hundred in number. He landed in Liverpool in July, 1826, and was the guest of Mr. Rathbone. In Liverpool he met with a well-merited reception; his Diary day by day is full. He got letters of introduction to various literati-Baron Humboldt, Scott, Sir Humphry Davy, Sir Thomas Lawrence, Hannah More, &c. I am cherished,' he writes, by the most notable people in and around Liver'pool.' Lord Stanley at first he found rather shy,' but a frank and agreeable man, and, what was more importance to Audubon, one who could thoroughly appreciate his drawings. These were exhibited at the Royal Institution, for which he painted a wild turkey, full size; and if we remember rightly, the painting is there to this day. From Roscoe he got a letter of introduction to Miss Edgeworth, in which Audubon's pursuits and acquirements were referred to in' flattering lan

e.' He realised 1007. by the exhibition of his pictures at the Royal Institution. From Liverpool Audubon went to Manchester. Here he first became acquainted with the English fashion of shooting; such tame sport did not please him. He exhibited his pictures in a gallery at Manchester, at one shilling for entrance; this did not pay. From Manchester Audubon returned to Liverpool, then back again to Manchester. At Mr. Rathbone's he met with the well-known publisher Mr. Bohn, who advised him to go to Paris and consult about the cost of the publication of his work.

He

drew a figure of the American wild turkey, the size of his thumb-nail, which Mrs. Rathbone had engraved as a seal and presented to him. He visited Matlock, and paid five pounds for spas to take home to his wife; he gathered wild flowers from the hills she had often played over when a child; and passed through the village of Bakewell, called after some one of her family.

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Audubon next went to Edinburgh, October 25, 1826, with letters of introduction to Professors Jameson and Duncan, and Dr. Knox the anatomist. In the fishwives of the old place he detected a resemblance to the squaws of the West. Their rolling gait, inturned toes, and manner of carrying burdens on their backs, reminded him of the Shawnee women. He considered the men 'extremely uncouth in manners and in speech.' Prospects in Edinburgh, however, were dull and unpromi'sing,' for people were shy of putting their names down as subscribers to a work of a most costly character, the author of which, having lived most of his life in the backwoods of America, was almost unknown to them; yet he met with most enthusiastic admirers of his drawings. Mr. Lizars, the wellknown engraver of Selby's great work, The Birds of Great 'Britain,' thus forcibly expressed himself when Audubon's portfolio was opened before him : My God! I never saw anything like these before!' Audubon made the acquaintance of several eminent men while in Edinburgh; for instance, Sir Walter Scott, Sir W. Jardine, Professor Wilson, and other celebrities of the day, but he records nothing concerning them beyond the gratification their appreciation of himself or his drawings gave him. Combe, the phrenologist, examined Audubon's skull with the accuracy and professional manner in which,' he says, 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.' At this time he records in his Diary, 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.' On one occasion he dined with Captain Basil Hall, and was fortunate in meeting Jeffrey and M'Culloch, a plain, simple, and amiable man; Jeffrey is ' a little man with a serious face and dignified 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.'

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We have seen how Audubon prided himself upon his long

flowing hair. Some of his friends had been urgent upon him that he should cut it and wear it according to the prevailing fashion. He thus records the sad curtailment of his ringlets:

'Edinburgh: March 19, 1827.-This day my hair sacrificed, and the will of God usurped 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.'

The margin of the sheet on which this obituary occurs is painted black, about three fourths of an inch deep all round, as if in deep mourning for the rape of the lock.'

Audubon painted a picture with the intention of presenting it to George IV. Sir Thomas Lawrence called on Audubon and wished to 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 benefited by the gift more "than receiving a letter from his private secretary, saying, that it had "been placed in his collection. This 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 Heppinstall, of Sheffield, England, and invested the amount in spoons and forks for my good wife.'

Audubon was now in London, where he continued his canvass with great success among the aristocracy.' He now determined to remove the publication of his work on The Birds of America' from Edinburgh to London, from Mr. Lizars to Mr. Robert Havell, because he thought the work would proceed more rapidly, and be done better and cheaper in the metropolis.

Mr. Children was at this time curator of the British Museum, and to him Audubon sold a proof copy of the first number of the Birds' for two guineas, the subscribers' price. At his request Audubon sent a copy to the King:—

'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 generally do, but as a gentleman. And I look on such a deed as worthy of all kings in general. The Duchess of Clarence 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.'

Audubon now determines to visit Paris. He left London