Burns — On Alexander Wilson. 165 



ALEXANDER WILSON. 

 IV. Tin: Making of the American Ornithology. 



1!Y FRANK L. BURNS. 



A nature lover from chiklhood, though placed at a trade at 

 the early age of thirteen, Wilson probably learned a little, but 

 not a great deal, more of the local avian fauna, than the 

 average native sportsman. Immediately upon landing in 

 America, at Newcastle, Delaware, July 14th, 1794, he shot 

 the first bird that presented itself, a Red-headed Woodpecker, 

 and he thought it the most beautiful bird he had ever beheld. 

 On his way to Philadelphia curiosity prompted him to kill 

 several Cardinals also; and somewhat to his surprise, he does 

 not observe a single familiar bird, all appearing much richer 

 in color than those he had been accustomed to see in his 

 native land. 



It was not until the comparatively lighter employment of 

 school teaching, to which he eventually drifted, gave him the 

 leisure which he at first unprofitably attempted to fill in verse- 

 making; and after some years, his fortunate engagement as 

 master of the little Union School in Kingsessing township, 

 near Gray's Ferry on the Schuylkill river, then four miles from 

 Philadelphia ; brought him almost to the head of the short lane 

 leading down to the famous botanic garden and the one man 

 in all America able and unselfishly willing to initiate him into 

 the mysteries and delights of ornithology ; for William 

 Bartram was one of Nature's noblemen. The intimacy formed 

 with this kindly old gentleman, Avho became at once his 

 "guide, philosopher and friend" ; was as even flowing as a 

 brook in a meadow on- a calm summer day. Without a Bar- 

 tram there probably would have been no Wilson, as Poet- 

 Naturalist. 



John Bartram, the founder, whom Linnxus pronounced the 

 greatest self-taught botanist in the world, and whose proudest 

 precept was to "Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly be- 

 fore God" ; was born March 33rd, 1699, and died on Septem- 

 ber 22nd, 1777, in deadly fear that the approaching British 

 invaders would "lay waste his darling garden, the nursling of 



