JOHN JAMES AUDUBON 141 
to his heart’s core,’’ says his grand- 
daughter, ‘‘he could not believe others 
less so, till painful experiences taught 
him; then he was grieved, hurt, but 
never imbittered ; and, more marvellous 
yet, with his faith in his fellows as strong 
as ever, again and again he subjected 
himself to the same treatment.”’ 
On one occasion when his pictures 
were on exhibition in England, some one 
stole one of his paintings, and a warrant 
was issued againstadeaf mute. ‘‘Gladly 
would I have painted abird for the poor 
fellow,’’ said Audubon, ‘‘and I certainly 
did not want him arrested.”’ 
He was never, even in his most des- 
perate financial straits, too poor to help 
others more poor than himself. 
He had a great deal of the old-fash- 
ioned piety of our fathers, which crops 
out abundantly in his pages. While he 
was visiting a Mr. Bently in Manchester, 
and after retiring to his room for the 
night, he was surprised by a knock at his 
