rate of a foot a-day. When at the highest they undergo little fluctuation for some days, after which they gradually subside. Their usual duration, from four to six weeks, is occasionally protracted to two months.

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CHAPTER IX.

NOTWITHSTANDING years of toil devoted

by Audubon to ensure the achievement of his cherished plan, disappointments and impediments continued long to test the strength of his resolution and the power of his faith. Yet such was the vigour and elevation of his genius that vicissitudes seemed only to increase the elasticity of his naturally buoyant spirits, and impart a more indomitable fervour to his enthusiasm.

Irrepressible by trial from without the chill of uncongenial contact or contest with the harsh inexorable conditions of expediency, his genius possessed an imperishable spring within itself which no opposing external force could destroy. Intrinsically it was the source of unequalled pleasures and satisfactions—themselves a rich reward, a perpetual consolation and assistance, From the arguments of interested or sordid policy, the coldness of skepticism, the apathy of ignorance or selfishness, he took refuge in the seclusion of his beloved woods. There, in

boundless freedom, he found a congenial atmosphere, and enjoyed that simpathy which too frequently failed him among men, in the melodious language of the forest songsters. Contemplating, moreover, the wisdom and unerring compassion of the Creator in the splendour of his works, his constancy was renewed by reliance. At night his rude couch was the verdure-fringed margin of a brook, the interior of some untrayelled forest, or the soft sands of the sea-shore. Aroused at early dawn, he was invigourated by healthful sleep, to wander for days and weeks in the pure air, partaking of his simple repasts under the shelter of green boughs. As evening approached, sending the birds to their retreats, and darkness enshrouded the earth, the naturalist, grateful to the Divine protection in his solitude, knelt in prayer. Then as he dreamily sunk into repose pleasant images of dear friends and home filled his fancy, and kindly wishes his heart. The strength of his physical constitution was thus retained and even increased. To this was doubtless owing much of that undiminished energy and moral fortitude which enabled him to combat so successfully the ordeals of his career. The inability to publish his illustrations in America was naturally a source of the deepest regret. As the subject of his patriotic pride, the scene of his efforts and discoveries, associated

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too with all his most cherished remembrances and best delights, he desired there first to wit. ness the inauguration of his hopes. Yet, in Philadelphia, it was the opinion that his drawings could never be engraved. In New York he met with no better success.

At length he determined to try the fate of his collection in Europe, whither in 1826, he directed his steps. Whether owing to rare modesty as to his endowments, or an exaggerated estimate of intellect on our side of the Atlantic, he seems to have been overwhelmed on approaching Eng. lish shores, with a sense of diffidence—"imagining,” he says, “ that every individual he was about to meet might be possessed of talents superior to those of any one in America !" Visiting for the first time a foreign country, often pictured in his imagination, its resources and acquisitions magnified by contemplation, regarding it moreover with peculiar interest as an arena for the decision, as it were, of his destiny, such feelings might naturally arise in the unsophisticated heart of the American woodsman. Without friend or acquaintance he could not anticipate a single welcome on his arrival. Soon, however, his position was such as to cause all his scruples to vanish. The letters of introduction which he carried speedily procured him a large and influential circle of friends.

At Liverpool, his first resting-place, “honours were freely accorded to him, which Philadelphia had refused.” Of the hospitality of the Rathbone family he retained an especially grateful remembrance, and mentions with an enthusiasm equal to that of his fellow countryman Irving, the benevolent kindness of Mr. Roscoe, in remembrance of whom he afterwards named the Sylvia Roscoe, a little bird rarely met with, and which was discovered by Audubon midst the cypresses and pines of one of the Mississippi swamps.

The first great difficulty of his career surmounted, a new path full of promise seemed to open before him. . His drawings had been exhibited, and, tried by the impartial test of public criticism, had been universally approved. Under the genial influence of this budding success he was disposed to appreciate all the novelty and interest arising from his European tour. He pursued his journey to Scotland along the northwestern shores of England, delighted with the celebrated cathedrals of our island, "hung with her glories," as well as with the picturesque beauty of the Scottish capital, where he was cordially welcomed by all the distinguished scientific and literary characters of the day. Here he produced his first number of "The Birds of America," engraved by Lizars. Thence he proceeded to the several towns on the road