LIFE OF WILSON. clxxiii 



make, as it seems to belong, incidentally, to the subject upon 

 which I have been commenting. 



The last edition of Watty and Meg, published under the in- 

 spection of the author, and by him corrected, was that given in 

 the Port Folio for October, 1810. 



The poetic effusions of Wilson, after he came to America, 

 afford evidence of an improved taste. He acquired a facility of 

 versification by practice; as his mind expanded with knowledge, 

 his judgment received an accession of strength; and he displays 

 a fancy which we look for in vain in his juvenile essays. But 

 we must be understood as comparing him only with himself, 

 at different periods of his life. Whether or not he ever attain- 

 ed to positive excellence in poetry, may be a subject of dispute. 



In his " Solitary Tutor," we are presented with a picture of 

 himself, while occupied in teaching a country school. The de- 

 scription of his place of residence, his schoolhouse, the adjoin- 

 ing forest, where many of his leisure hours were passed, and 

 where he first commenced studying the manners of those birds, 

 which he subsequently immortalized in his splendid work, is 

 animated and graphical. The fabric of these verses reminds 

 us of the Minstrel; and that he had this delightful poem in his 

 eye, we are convinced by some of the descriptions and senti- 

 ments. The stanza beginning, 



" In these green solitudes, one favourite spot," 



is accurately descriptive of a place, in Bartram's woods, whith- 

 er he used to retire for the purposes of reading and contempla- 

 tion, and where he planned his Ornithology. Of the faults of 

 this little poem I will merely remark, that the initial quatrain 

 is prosaic; and that the last line betrays an unaccountable defi- 

 ciency of taste. 



The lovers of rural scenery will learn with regret, that this 

 fine piece of forest, consecrated to the Muses of poetry and na- 

 tural history, by Wilson, is fast disappearing beneath the ax of 

 the husbandman. Already is the brook, which was " o'erhung 

 with alders and mantling vines," exposed to the glare of day; 



