326 AUDUBON, THE NATURALIST 



so hard pressed was he at times to eke out a subsistence 

 for them both. Yet Audubon was as sanguine as ever, 

 and on November 9 he recorded the resolution "to paint 

 one hundred views of American scenery," and added: 

 "I shall not be surprised to find myself seated at the 

 foot of Niagara," a prediction which was fulfilled in 

 the following year. 



During the winter spent at Shippingport, Audubon 

 lost a gentle friend in Madame Berthoud, 24 the mother 

 of Nicholas. In his journal for January 20, 1824, we 

 read his emotional words: 



I arose this morning by the transparent light which is the 

 effect of the moon before dawn, and saw Dr. Middleton passing 

 at full gallop towards the white house ; I followed alas ! my 

 old friend was dead ! . . . many tears fell from my eyes, ac- 

 customed to sorrow. It was impossible for me to work ; my 

 heart, restless, moved from point to point all round the com- 

 pass of my life. Ah Lucy ! what have I felt to-day ! . . . I 

 have spent it thinking, thinking, learning, weighing my 

 thoughts, and quite sick of life. I wished I had been as quiet 

 as my venerable friend, as she lay for the last time in her 

 room. 



24 This lady had a remarkable history. She was the widow of the 

 Marquis de Saint Pie, and was at one time a dame d'honneur of Queen, 

 Marie Antoinette; like many others of noble birth, she had fled from Paris 

 during the Revolution, and emigrated to America, where with her husband 

 she assumed the name of Berthoud. Her son, Nicholas Augustus, had 

 married Mrs. Audubon's sister, Eliza Bakewell, in 1816. 



