a friend not far distant. But the animal with the intuition of fear, instead of hastening, proceeded slowly, and with a caution, as if treading a sheet of ice.

Imagining that he faltered, Audubon was on the point of dismounting to lead him, when the animal, spreading out his fore legs, hanging his head and groaning piteously, appeared as if arrested by the stroke of death. Audubon, already dismayed at his desolate situation, the melancholy of his solitude, and the misfortune of his failing horse,—his only companion and assistance—now beheld with awe the extraordinary appearance of the elements, the whole creation seeming under the influence of some strange and calamitous phenomenon. Shrubs and trees were agitated from their very roots; the ground rose and fell in undulations, like the waves of a stormy sea, ready to engulph all within its grasp. At that perilous moment what must have been the sensations of Audubon ; transfixed with terror, rocked to and fro upon his shuddering horse, the subterranean roar of the convulsion, mingling with the vision of a menacing abyss, which he anticipated every moment would open for his destruction. Separated by miles from his family, apprehensions for their safety added fresh tortures to his situation. Should he ever return to seek them? Would

A WESTERN WEDDING.

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they still exist to greet him? Imaginations, hopes, fears, rose rapidly and fitted alternately -a phantom-like company-before his mind, which, tumultuous and bewildered, shared the agonizing struggle of creation around. Speedily as it rose, the vision of despair passed by. In a few minutes the heavens, serenely sunlit and glad, seemed to express to the eye of Faith the immutability of the eternal promise.

Audubon's horse, relieved from its fears, no longer needed the spur, but galloped as if as eager as his master to escape another such adventure. These visitations are generally followed by slighter shocks, which occur almost every day or night for several weeks. Gradually they subside into little more than mere vibrations. One of these happening during Audubon's visit to his friend, was, strangely enough, not only unattended with calamitous consequences, but through the unfounded apprehensions to which it gave rise, an additional incentive to the rare merriment which renders a wedding in the western country a truly festive occasion. The ceremony having been performed, supper over, and instruments tuned, dancing became the order of the moment. It was kept up till a late hour, the guests encouraged by the hilarity of their host. Being a physician, his urbanity was opportunely increased by the preservation

of some drugs in jars and phials, lancets, amputating knives, and other sanguinary apparatus, which, filling a corner of his large and solidly built log house, had a few days before narrowly escaped destruction through the shock. At length all retired to rest—some to be haunted by bright faces, sighs and smiles; others to sink into pleasing dreams or oblivion as delightful. But oh! “that on night so blest such awful morn should rise !" Instead of tender accents and soft sighs, gentle ears were greeted at dawn by the rumbling noise of the agitated earth. Unhesitating demonstrations of true terror were exchanged for the silently endured apprehensions, or timid avowal of less overwhelming emotions. Young and old anticipating instant destruction, rushed wildly into the grass enclosure fronting the building, terrified at the creaking of the log-house, to mingle again in a general assembly--this time, however, as disorderly and incongruous as that of the spirits meeting in Macbeth.

Meanwhile the full moon slowly descended from her throne, attended by a stately retinue of dark clouds intervening, as if to conceal from her placid saintly gaze the confusion of the scene below. Thus the ladies in their frail and partial attire were happily veiled in appropriate obscurity, and recognitions to the discomfiture of the

THE WHIP-POOR-WILL.

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following morning avoided. The earth continued to beave before the wind, the birds to fly hither and thither, while the doctor was mindful of the gallipots in his store-room.

In the bewilderment of his distress, forgetful of closing the door, spreading out his arms, jumping before his glass cases, and pushing back the falling jars, he assisted the catastrophe with so much success, that, before the shock was over, all his possessions were lost. The ladies, conscious at length of their dishabille, and intimidated now from a different motive, fled in dismay to their several apartments.

In the mountains, or more sterile portions of the Union, as in the open Barrens of Kentucky, it is that the curious note of the whip-poor-will is heard. It is seldom seen during the day, when it seeks some shady spot for its slumbers, having for a couch, generally, the low branches of trees and shrubs. Commencing its labours with the disappearance of the sun, it then passes over the bushes, sweeps repeatedly in different directions over the fields, and skims the skirts of forests, alighting occasionally on the ground, to secure insects as its prey. Its flight is low, light, and swift. So noiseless is the motion of its wings, as to be inaudible by a person, even within a few feet of it,—it is recognized in the darkness only by the low murmuring sound it utters, and the

gentle undulation caused in the air by its passage.

By Audubon, wandering midst solitudes where the grandeur of nature acquires sublimity from the eternal repose of all around, its loud, clear notes were gratefully welcomed, when, exhausted and hungry, after a day of uninterrupted toil, the darkness of night compelled him to set his camp in the wilderness. · Under such circumstances, more melodious than song of nightingale, was the cheering voice of the whip-poorwill—his sole companion. For the whip-poorwill continues to sing several hours after sunset. It then continues silent till early dawn, when, along the declivities of the mountains, and through every valley, its shrill note re-echoes till the clouds which darkened the fair face of nature are dispersed, and break into gladness at the sun's majestic coming. Hundreds of these birds then assemble in the woods, and emulate each other in a chorus. They receive their name from the fancied resemblance of their note to the words whip-poor-will. Their migrations southward, as well as their toils, are performed by night. Audubon unhesitatingly pronounced this species distinct from the night hawk.

About the middle of March, in the forests of Louisiana, the song of the chuck-will's-widow, its interesting relative, may be heard. It is