THE EUROPEAN JOURNALS 163 



Dr. Rankin's, listening to the howlings of the Wolves, 

 while sitting in security, eating well roasted and jellied 

 venison, — no, alas! it was far from all these dear spots, 

 in Great King Street, No. 62, at Dr. Graham's, a dis- 

 tinguished professor of botany, with a dinner of so many 

 rich dishes that I cannot remember them. 



November 2Ji-. I have just finished a long letter to Mr. 

 Wm. Rathbone, telling him of my reception in beautiful 

 Edinburgh, and my present plans, which are to publish 

 one number at my own expense and risk, and with it , 

 under my arm, make my way. If I can procure three . 

 hundred good substantial names of persons or associa- 

 tions or institutions, I cannot fail doing well for my family ; 

 but, to do this, I must abandon my life to its success, and 

 undergo many sad perplexities, and perhaps never again 

 — certainly not for some years — see my beloved Amer- 

 ica. The work, from what I have seen of Mr. Lizars' 

 execution, will be equal to anything in the world at 

 present, and of the rest the world must judge for itself. 

 I shall superintend both engraving and coloring per- 

 sonally, and I pray my courage may not fail ; my industry 

 I know will not. It is true the work will be procured only 

 at a great expense, but then, a number of years must 

 elapse before it is completed, so that renders payment an 

 easier task. This is what I shall try ; if I do not succeed 

 I can return to my woods and there in peace and quiet 

 live and die. I am sorry that some of my friends, particu- 

 larly Dr. Traill, are against the pictures being the size of 

 life, and I must acknowledge it renders the work rather 

 bulky, but my heart was always bent on it, and I cannot 

 refrain from attempting it. I shall publish the letter- 

 press in a separate book, at the same time with the 

 illustrations, and shall accompany the descriptions of the 

 birds with many anecdotes and accounts of localities con- 

 nected with the birds themselves, and with my travels in 

 search of them. I miss my " Wild Turkeys," on which I 



