EDITOR'S PREFACE. vii 



out his great work in the face of difficulties so huge, or the 

 gentle and guileless sweetness with which he throughout shared 

 his thoughts and aspirations with his wife and children. He was 

 more like a child at the mother's knee, than a husband at the 

 hearth — so free was the prattle, so thorough the confidence. 

 Mrs. Audubon appears to have been a wife in every respect 

 worthy of such a man ; willing to sacrifice her personal comfort 

 at any moment for the furtherance of his great schemes ; ever 

 ready with kiss and counsel when such were most needed ; never 

 failing for a moment in her faith that Audubon was destined to 

 be one of the great workers of the earth. 



The man's heart was restless ; otherwise he would never have 

 achieved so much. He must wander, he must vagabondize, he 

 must acquire ; he was never quite easy at the hearth. His love 

 for nature was passionate indeed, pursuing him in all regions, 

 burning in him to the last. Among the most touching things in 

 the diary, are the brief exclamations of joy when something in 

 the strange city — a flock of wild ducks overhead in London, a 

 gathering of pigeons on the trees of Paris — reminds him of the 

 wild life of wood and plain. He was boy-like to the last, 

 glorying most when out of doors. His very vanity and selfish- 

 ness, such as they were, were innocent and boyish — they were 

 without malice, and savoured more of pique than gall. 



Of the work Audubon has done, nothing need be said in praise 

 here. Even were I competent to discuss his merits as an 

 ornithologist and ornithological painter, I should be silent, for 

 the world has already settled those merits in full. I may trust 

 myself, however, to say one word in praise of Audubon as a 

 descriptive writer. Some of bis reminiscences of adventure, 

 some of which are published in this book, seem to me to be 

 quite as good, in vividness of presentment and careful colouring, 

 as anything I have ever read. 



