JOHN JAMES AUDUBON 121 

 "One year, in the month of August, I 

 was trudging along the shores of the 

 Mohawk river, when night overtook me. 

 Being little acquainted with that part of 

 the country, I resolved to camp where I 

 was ; the evening was calm and beauti- 

 ful, the sky sparkled with stars which 

 were reflected by the smooth waters, and 

 the deep shade of the rocks and trees of 

 the opposite shore fell on the bosom of 

 the stream, while gently from afar came 

 on the ear the muttering sound of the 

 cataract. My little fire was soon lighted 

 under a rock, and, spreading out my 

 scanty stock of provisions, I reclined on 

 nay grassy couch. As I looked on the 

 fading features of the beautiful land- 

 scape, my heart turned towards my dis- 

 tant home, where my friends were doubt- 

 less wishing me, as I wish them, a happy 

 night and peaceful slumbers. Then were 

 heard the barkings of the watch dog, and 

 I tapped my faithful companion to pre- 

 vent his answering them. The thoughts 



