of how I could take away his life with the least pain to him. I consulted several persons on the subject, and among others, my most worthy and generous friend, Dr. George Parkman, who kindly visited my family every day. He spoke of suffocating him by means of burning charcoal, of killing him by electricity, etc., and we both concluded that the first method would be probably the easiest for ourselves, and the least painful to him. Accordingly the bird was removed in his prison to a very small room, and closely covered with blanketsa pan of lighted charcoal was introduced, the windows and doors fastened, and the blankets tucked in beneath the cage. I waited, expecting every moment to hear him fall down from his perch; but after listening for hours, I opened the door, raised the blankets, and peeped under them amidst a mass of suffocating fumes.

There stood the eagle on his perch, with his bright, unflinching eye turned towards me, and as lively and vigorous as ever! Instantly reclosing every aperture, I resumed my station at the door, and towards midnight, not having heard the least noise, I again took a peep at my victim. He was still uninjured, although the air of the closet was insupportable to my son and myself, and that of the adjoining apartment began to feel unpleasant. I per severed, however, for ten hours in all, when,

THE GOLDEN EAGLE.

199

finding that the charcoal fumes would not produce the desired effect, I retired to rest, wearied and disappointed. Early next morning, I tried the charcoal anew, adding to it a quantity of sulphur, but we were nearly driven from our house in a few hours, by the stifling vapours, while the noble bird continued to stand erect, and look defiance at us whenever we approached his post of martyrdom. His fierce demeanour precluded all internal application, and at last I was compelled to resort to a method, always used as a last expedient, and a most effectual one. I thrust a long pointed piece of steel through his heart, when my proud prisoner instantly fell dead, without even ruffling a feather.

"I sat up nearly the whole of another night to outline him, and worked so constantly at the drawing, that it nearly cost me my life. suddenly seized with a spasmodic affection, that much alarmed my family, and completely prostrated me for some days."

The golden eagle, which frequents the shores of the Hudson and the upper parts of the Mississippi, was also seen by Audubon over the dreary heights of Labrador.

Though it cannot, like the white-headed eagle, seize its prey when on wing, the keenness of its vision enables it to mark the desired object at a great distance, and driving through the air

I was

with the swiftness of a meteor, it is thus unerring in its aim. When it has soared high into the air, its evolutions slowly performed in wide circuits, are most majestic; “ becoming," says Audubon, this monarch among birds. Its gyrations are sometimes continued for hours. The nest of this eagle, placed invariably high on some rugged cliffs, must be pillaged at the risk of dire peril to the invader, an instance of which occurred during the revolutionary war. A company of soldiers were stationed near the highlands of the Hudson River. A golden eagle had placed her nest in a cleft of the rocks, midway between the summit and the river. One of the soldiers was let down by his companions, suspended by a rope fastened round his body. On reaching the nest

, he found himself suddenly attacked by the eagle. In self defence, he drew the only weapon he had, his knife, and made repeated passes at the bird, when accidently he cut the rope almost off. It began to unravel; when the men above him, hastily drawing him up, relieved him from his perilous position, at the moment he expected to be precipitated to the bottom of the gulf. But so powerful was the effect of the terror experienced by the soldier whilst in danger, that before the lapse of three days, his hair became quite grey.

COMPLETION OF AUDUBON'S WORK. 201

CHAPTER XV.

WITH the publication of the fifth and last

volume of Ornithological Biographies, during the year 1839, Audubon had the happiness to witness the completion of his long pursued and dearly cherished plan. It was the achievement of no ordinary ambition—the gratification of impatience at the consummation of some light essay. In it, he beheld as it

were,

the fulfilment of his destiny—the realization of constant effort and aspiration—the result of the trials of a life-time, the fruits of an entire dedication of all the faculties of existence to one great and honoured end. The advancement of science was his vocation, and in that vocation he nobly served as the worshipper of his Creator and the benefactor of his kind, which he was, intellectually and morally. For to comparatively few, even to those rarely gifted, is it given to follow from the days of infancy, with singlehearted desire, one great object—that object demanding, moreover, the entire surrender of every other for its attainment. Yet to Audubon

was this granted. Unconsious of the weakness of vacillation in purpose or practice for one day, he pursued unflinchingly an absorbing principle of action, not only at the sacrifice of leisure, ease, and indulgence, but at the cost of danger, deprivation, and the most arduous endurance.

The naturalist, compelled to undergo the pain of separation, to wander in solitude, to suffer daily toil and peril, is called upon pre-eminently to "live by faith”—to anticipate with dauntless hope, compensation in the future for temporary ills, and thus living in the exercise of fortitude, patience, and industry, he cannot fail to be strengthened and ennobled.

By this faith it was the happiness of Audubon to live. “My heart was nerved,” he tells us, relating the obstacles which attended his career, " and reliance on that power on whom all must depend, brought me bright anticipations of success.

Sixteen years had been the period calculated upon by him for the accomplishment of his task. During that time, with unremitting zeal, he had applied himself to its worthy fulfilment. Visions of this most eagerly desired satisfaction would present themselves to cheer him on his laborious way, while sensibility to the beauties of nature, proportioned to the intensity of his love, was the source of refreshment and delight. As the glo