Audubon. 457 



hold upon me, that, when removed from the woods, the prairies, and the 

 brooks, or shut up from the view of the wide Atlantic, I experienced none of 

 those pleasures most congenial to my mind. None but aerial companions 

 suited my fancy. No roof seemed so secure to me as that formed of tlie 

 dense foilage under which the feathered tribes were seen to resort, or the 

 caves and fissures of the massy rocks to which the dark winged Cormorant 

 and the Curlew retired to rest, or to protect themselves from the fury of the 

 tempest. My father generally accompanied my steps, procured birds and 

 flowers for me with great eagerness, — pointed out the elegant movements of 

 the former, the beauty and softness of their plumage, the manifestations of 

 their pleasure or sense of danger, — and the always perfect forms and splendid 

 attire of the latter. My valued preceptor would then speak of the departure 

 and return of birds with the seasons, and would describe their haunts, and, 

 more wonderful than all, their change of livery ; thus e.xciting me to study 

 them, and to raise my mind towards their great Creator. 



"A vivid pleasure shone upon those days of my early youth, attended with 

 a calmness of feeling, that seldom failed to rivet my attention for hours, 

 whilst I gazed in ecstacy upon the pearly and shining eggs, as they lay im- 

 bedded in the softest down, or among dried leaves and twigs, or were ex- 

 posed upon the burning sand or weather-beaten rock of our Atlantic shores. 

 I was taught to look upon them as flowers yet in the bud. I watched their 

 opening, to see how Nature had provided each different species with eyes, 

 either open at birth, or closed for some time after ; to trace the slow progress 

 of the young birds toward perfection, or admire the celerity with which some 

 of them, while yet unfledged, removed themselves from danger to security. 



"I grew up, and my wishes grew with my form. These wishes were for 

 the entire possession of all that I saw. I was fervently desirous of becoming 

 acquainted with nature. For many years, however, I was sadly disappoint- 

 ed, and for ever, doubtless, must I have desires that cannot be gratified. 

 The moment a bird was dead, however beautiful it had been when in life, the 

 pleasure arising from the possession of it became blunted ; and although the 

 greatest care was bestowed on endeavours to preserve the appearance of 

 nature, I looked upon its vesture as more than sullied, as requiring constant 

 attention and repeated mendings, while, after all, it could no longer be said 

 to be fresh from the hands of its Maker. I wished to possess all the produc- 

 tions of nature, but I wished life with them. This was impossible. Then 

 what was to be done ^ I turned to my father, and made known to him my 

 disappointment and anxiety. He produced a book of Illustrations. A new 

 life ran in my veins. I turned over the leaves with avidity ; and although 

 what I saw was not what I longed for, it gave me a desire to copy Nature. 

 To Nature I went, and tried to imitate hei', as in the days of my childhood I 

 had tried to raise myself from the ground and stand erect, before Time had 

 imparted the vigour necessary tor the success of such an undertaking. 



"How sorely disappointed did I feel, for many years, when I saw that my 



productions were worse than those which I ventured (perhaps in silence) to 



regard as bad, in the book given me by my father ! My pencil gave birth to 



a family of cripples. So maimed were most of them, that they resembled 



Vol. I.— 58 



