Retrospective Criticism. 467 



so correct and elegant an English work (as far as language 

 goes) as the Biography of Birds. 



And, now a word for myself. R. B. remarks [p. 370.], 

 *' how would Mr. Waterton's Wanderings appear, if subjected 

 to the test of ridicule, or even the severe ordeal of sober cri- 

 ticism ? " I answer, that the Wanderings have already passed 

 under the keen pens of the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews. 

 Still, if R. B. feels inclined to try them by the ordeal of his 

 own ridicule or sober criticism, I here promise that I will 

 answer him to his heart's content;. -ry i y 



I must now transcribe a mischievous statement from the 

 " observations " of R. B., in the last Magazine [p. 371.]. He 

 says : — " Mr. Waterton travelled from his own rich plant- 

 ations in Demerara, surrounded by his slaves and, attendants : 

 Mr. Audubon was a solitary wanderer in the forests of Ame- 

 rica, often dependent on his gun for support. While Mr. 

 Audubon is exposed to dangers, and privations, and looks 

 forward to the patronage of the public for his sole support 

 and reward, Mr. Waterton is tranquilly seated in a magni- 

 ficent English mansion, surrounded by paternal acres " (Mr. 

 Audubon tells us that he had paternal acres in Pennsylvania), 

 " and endeavouring to deprive the solitary wanderer of that 

 patronage, the expectation of which is the only hope that can 

 cheer his labours. Look at this picture, and look at that ! " 

 Ay, reader, look at it ; and then glance your eye over what 

 follows, to the confusion of R. B. 



I never possessed a slave in my life, or any part of a 

 plantation. From 1807 to 1812, at intervals, I administered 

 to the estates of an uncle, and others ; during which period, 

 the yellow fever and tertian ague kept giving me frequent 

 hints that there was not much pleasure to be expected from 

 being " surrounded by slaves and attendants." In March, 

 1812, I bade farewell, for ever, to those estates; and have 

 never once been on them since that time. I ascended the 

 Demerara, with my friend Mr. Edmonstone, as far as the 

 postholder's ; where we parted, and he returned home. 

 There I hired six Indians, and took with me a negro belong- 

 ing to my uncle ; and we proceeded into the heart of the 

 wilds, in quest of the Wourali poison, Lake Parima, &c. 

 When game failed us, which was often the case after we had 

 got into the open country, we lived upon cassava. On the 

 setting in of the rainy season, we all got a severe inflamma- 

 tory complaint, except the negro ; and I found it necessary 

 to bleed all hands, myself, of course, the last. Some time 

 after this, I was seized with dysentery, having lived nearly 

 three days on mouldy cassava sprinkled with Cayenne pepper, 



h h 2 



