132 JOHN JAMES AUDUBON 
of an American panther. The antlers 
of elks hung upon the walls; stuffed 
birds of every description of gay plu- 
mage ornamented the mantel-piece ; and 
exquisite drawings of field mice, orioles, 
and woodpeckers, were scattered promis- 
cuously in other parts of the room, across 
one end of which a long, rude table was 
stretched to hold artist materials, scraps 
of drawing paper, and immense folio 
volumes, filled with delicious paintings 
of birds taken in their native haunts. 
‘¢¢Mhis,? said I to myself, ‘is the 
studio of the naturalist,’ but hardly 
had the thought escaped me when the 
master himself made his appearance. 
He was a tall thin man, with a high- 
arched and serene forehead, and a 
bright penetrating grey eye; his white 
locks fell in clusters upon his shoulders, 
but were the only signs of age, for his 
form was erect, and his step as light as 
that of a deer. The expression of his 
face was sharp, but noble and com- 
