KENTUCKY CANE BRAKES.

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wish, even at some cost to himself. That he might not be intimidated at the outset, Audubon cleared the way by cutting down the canes. Difficulties increased as they proceeded. Having passed the rubicon, the poor naturalist continued to wade his troubled way with many a regret and groan. Through knotted vines and intricacies of cane, they proceeded, till, coming on the misshapen mass of a fallen tree, they were about to precipitate themselves through it, when suddenly from its centre a bear rushed forth, angrily snuffing the air as though intent on the first prey that should present itself. Poor De Thouville, his ebbing energies exhausted as well as his moral powers, by fright, attempted to run, but fell terror-stricken among the canes, to remain jammed between their stalks, as if pinioned. Audubon, repressing his merriment, in order to give the active assistance for which De Thouville loudly shrieked, actually succeeded in persuading him, spite the misadventure, to continue the expedition. But fresh terrors awaited them. The way became every moment more tangled. Heavy clouds, portentous of a storm of thunder, were observed by Audubon with malicious delight, but with dread by his companion; who, panting, perspiring, and sighing, seemed about to surrender in despair. Still the thunder roared, and dashes

of heavy rain, while they drenched the travellers, rendered their pathway a very morass.

The withered leaves and bark of the canes stuck to their clothes as they plunged through, while briers and nettles penetrated still further. To De Thouville's repeated inquiry, whether they should ever emerge alive out of so horrible a situation, Audubon returned exhortations and admonitions to patience and courage. Tumbling and crawling, the memorable march was continued by the poor naturalist, who, once well out of the maze, emptying his pockets of fungi, lichens, and moss, never again expressed a desire to enter it.

One evening, he was missed from the circle at Henderson. Grasses and possessions were no longer in his room. Whether he had been drowned in a swamp or devoured by a bear, was matter of conjecture, till a letter, some time after, assured Audubon that this eccentric naturalist still existed.

MERCANTILE PURSUITS.

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CHAPTER V.

FOR many years subsequent to his marriage,

Audubon engaged in various branches of commerce, doubtless from a conscientious sense of the obligation his new position imposed.

That they should have proved unprofitable, is scarcely matter of surprise, with one whose whole mind was enamoured of entirely opposite pursuits. Nevertheless his enterprise was not unproductive of advantage; for it was while ascending the upper Mississippi on a trading voyage, during the month of February, 1814, that Audubon first caught sight of the beautiful Bird of Washington. His delight as he did so was extreme. Not even Herschel, he says,

when he discovered the planet which bears his name, could have experienced more rapturous feelings. Convinced that the bird was extremely rare, if not altogether known, Audubon felt particularly anxious to learn its species. He next observed it whilst engaged in collecting cray fish on one of the flats of the Green river, at its junction with the Ohio, where it is bounded by

a range of high cliffs. Audubon felt assured, by certain indications, that the bird frequented that spot. Seated about a hundred yards from the foot of the rock, he eagerly awaited its appearance as it came to visit the nest with food for its young. He was warned of its approach by the loud hissing of the eaglets, which crawled to the extremity of the cavity to seize the prey-a fine fish. Presently the female, always the larger among rapacious birds, arrived, bearing also a fish. With more shrewd suspicion than her mate, glaring with her keen eye around, she at once perceived the nest had been discovered. Immediately dropping her prey, with a loud shriek she communicated the alarm, when both birds soaring aloft, kept up a growling to intimidate the intruders from their suspected design.

Not until two years later was Audubon gratified by the capture of this magnificent bird. Considered by him the noblest of its kind, he dignified it with the great name to which his country owed her salvation, and which must be imperishable therefore among her people. "Like the eagle,” he thought, “ Washington was brave; like it, he was the terror of his foes, and his fame extending from pole to pole, resembled the majestic soarings of the mightiest of the feathered tribe. America, proud of her Washington, has also reason to be so of her Great Eagle.” The

THE MISSISSIPPI.

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flight of this bird is distinct from that of the white-headed eagle; it encircles a greater space, whilst sailing keeps nearer to the land, and when about to dive for fish, descends in a spiral line, as if with the intention of checking every attempt at retreat by its prey.

Audubon's commercial expedition, rich in attractions for his scientific observation, were attended also with the varied pleasures which delight a passenger on the waters of the glorious Mississippi. Interesting in its magnificence, even beneath a cold winter sky, with keen blasts whistling around, infinitely more so is it in the freshness of the spring season, the radiance of summer, or above all the brilliance of autumn. The vegetation adorning its shores is then enchanting. There the tall cotton tree mingles its branches with those of the arrow-shaped ash, the peccan or walnut. Huge oaks overspread the densely tangled canes, from amongst which vines of various kinds spring up, intertwining the trunks and stems with their tendrils, till stretching from branch to branch the whole expanse is covered, as with a canopy of vegetation, illumined with rich hues of crimson, brown, and gold. Adorning the distant prospect of hills arise noble pines, magnolias or hollies, waving their lofty heads in the breeze. Fresh scenes of interest are continually dis