ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL.

you a terrible wrong? Perhaps it was to my harshness
and worldliness that your poor daughter owed an early
It was I who
grave. It was I who broke her heart!
deprived you of a sweet and dutiful child! It was I who
drove my own son a beggar from my door! But behold,
behold! I am punished!"

"Mr. Severn," said the curate, solemnly. "I have no accusing thought against you. Never dream of such a thing. We are all frail and weak; and the God who gives us passions will judge us as we behave under their influence. If we remember hasty actions with sorrow, it is a proof that some measure of purification has taken place within us, and that we are not likely to give our impulses sway again."

"I hardly "You are right," answered Mr. Severn. think I should behave as I have done, had I to live half my life over again. The lessons I have received have been too signal and severe. But the share I perhaps have had in producing your affliction, Benedict, has weighed heavily upon my mind. I have performed a pilgrimage hither to make my peace with you."

For a considerable time the conversation was continued. The sun had set, and evening was far advanced, when Mr. Severn rose and bade the curate good night. The interview appeared to have relieved him greatly: he was now Tancred, who all this time more tranquil and serene. had been busy at a flower-bed hard by, went to open the gate. Mr. Severn laid his hand upon his head gently, and looked thoughtfully at him.

"A fine little fellow!" said he, in a strange, abstracted way. "How old may you be, little friend?" "Twelve years last November, sir," said Tancred. "Humph! Twelve years last November! A time You were born then, that I remember miserably.

were ye?"

Yes, sir," said Tancred, wonderingly. Well, well; be a good boy. Gather your flowers while yet there is time. Mark out a straight and hoAnd, oh! nourable path for yourself, little fellow. above all, above all- honour your father and your mother, that your days may be long in the land!'"

Saying this, tenderly and impressively, he walked steadily out, Tancred looking after him with tears in his eyes, for where were the father and the mother he

was to honour?

AUDUBON, THE ORNITHOLOGIST.

I.

"When I had hardly yet learned to of lovely scenery. walk," says he, in his autobiography prefixed to his work, "the productions of nature that lay spread all around were constantly pointed out to me. They soon became formed to enable me to estimate the difference between my playmates; and before my ideas were sufficiently the azure tints of the sky and the emerald hue of the bright foliage, I felt that an intimacy with them, not consisting of friendship merely, but bordering on phrenzy, must accompany my steps through life; and now, more than ever, am I persuaded of the power of those earthly impressions. They laid such hold of me, that, when removed from the woods, the prairies, and the brooks, or shut up from the view of the wide Atlantic, I experienced none of those pleasures most congenial to my mind. None but aërial companions suited my fancy. No roof seemed so secure to me as that formed of the dense foliage under which the feathered tribes were seen to resort, or the caves and fissures of the massy rocks to which the dark-winged cormorant and the curlew retired to rest, or to protect themselves from the fury of the tempest."

Audubon seems to have inherited this intense love of nature from his father, who eagerly encouraged the boy's tastes, procured birds and flowers for him, pointed out their elegant movements, told him of their haunts and habits, their migrations, changes of livery, and so onfeeding the boy's mind with vivid pleasure and a quick sense of enjoyment. As he grew up towards manhood, these tastes grew stronger within him, and he longed to go forth amid the forests and prairies of America to survey the native wild birds in their magnificent haunts. But, meanwhile, he learned to draw; he painted birds and flowers, and acquired a facility of delineation of their forms, attitudes, and plumage. Of course he only reached this through many failures and defeats; but he was laborious and full of love for his pursuit, and in such a case ultimate success is certain.

His education was greatly advanced by a residence in France, whither he was sent to receive his school education, returning to America at the age of seventeen. In Paris, he had the advantage of studying under the great His father gave David. He revisited the woods of the New World with fresh ardour and increased enthusiasm. him a fine estate on the banks of the Schuylkill; and amidst its beautiful woodlands, its extensive fields, its hills crowned with evergreens, he pursued his delightful studies. Another object about the same time excited his passion, and he was soon blessed with the name of husband. But though Audubon loved his wife most fondly, his It was his first ardent love had been given to nature. genius and destiny, which he could not resist, and he was drawn on in spite of himself.

At

THE great naturalist of America, John James Audubon, who died at New York a few months back, has left He engaged, however, in various branches of combehind him in his "Birds of America," and "Ornithological Biography," a magnificent monument of his labours, merce, none of which succeeded with him, his mind being which through life were devoted to the illustration of the preoccupied by his favourite study. His friends called natural history of his native country. His grand work him "fool"-all excepting his wife and children. on the Biography of Birds, is quite unequalled, for the last, irritated by the remarks of relatives and others, he close observation of the habits of birds and animals which broke entirely away from the pursuits of trade, and gave it displays, its glowing pictures of American scenery, and himself up wholly to natural history. He ransacked the the enthusiastic love of nature which breathes throughout woods, the lakes, the prairies, and the shores of the its pages. The sunshine and the open air, the dense Atlantic, spending years away from his home and family. shade of the forest and the boundless undulations of the His object, at first, was not to become a writer. It was prairies, the roar of the sea beating against the rock- simply to indulge a passion-to enjoy the sight of nature. ribbed shore, the solitary wilderness of the Upper It was Charles Lucien Buonaparte, an accomplished Arkansas, the Savannas of the South, the beautiful Ohio, naturalist, who first incited him to arrange his beautiful the vast Mississippi, and the green steeps of the Alleg-drawings in a form for publication, and to enter upon his hanies, all were as familiar to Audubon as his own grand work, "The Birds of America." He now explored home. The love of birds, of flowers, of animals-the over and over again the woods and the prairies, the lakes, desire to study their habits in their native retreats the rivers, and the seashore, with this object in view; haunted him like a passion from his earliest years, and but when he had heaped together a large mass of information, and collected a large number of drawings, an he devoted almost his entire life to the pursuit. untoward accident occurred to his collection, which we cannot help relating in his own words :

He was born to competence, of French parents settled in America, in the State of Pennsylvania-a beautiful green undulating country, watered by fine rivers, and full

"I left the village of Henderson, in Kentucky, situated

on the banks of Ohio, where I resided for several years, to proceed to Philadelphia on business. I looked to all my drawings (ten hundred in number) before my departure, placed them carefully in a box, and gave them in charge to a relative, with injunctions to see that no injury happened to them. My absence was of several months; and when I returned, after having enjoyed the pleasures of home for a few days, I inquired after my box, and what I was pleased to call my treasure. The box was produced, and opened; but, reader, feel for me-a pair of Norway rats had taken possession of the whole, and and had reared a young family amongst the gnawed bits of paper, which, but a few months ago had represented nearly a thousand inhabitants of the air! The burning heat which instantly rushed through my brain was too great to be endured, without affecting the whole of my nervous system. I slept not for several nights, and the days passed like days of oblivion, until the animal powers being recalled into action, through the strength of my constitution, I took up my gun, my note-book, and my pencils, and went forth to the woods as gaily as if nothing had happened. I felt pleased that I might now make much better drawings than before, and ere a period not exceeding three years had elapsed, I had my portfolio filled again.”

enchanting sail, which probably Longfellow had in his eye when he penned the charming description in his Evangeline.

"As night came, sinking in darkness the broader portions of the river, our minds became affected by strong emotions, and wandered far beyond the present moments. The tinkling of the bells told us that the cattle which bore them were gently roving from valley to valley in search of food, or returning to their distant homes. The hooting of the great owl, or the muffled noise of its wings as it sailed smoothly over the stream, were matters of interest to us; so was the sound of the boatman's horn, as it came more and more softly from afar. When daylight returned, many songsters burst forth with echoing notes, more and more mellow to the listening ear. Here and there the lonely cabin of a squatter struck the eye, giving note of commencing civilization. The crossing of the stream by a deer foretold how soon the hills would be covered with snow.'

The scene is greatly changed since then. The shores are inhabited; the woods are mainly cleared away; the great herds of clk, deer, and buffalo, have ceased to exist; villages, farms, and towns, margin the Ohio; hundreds of steam-boats are plying up and down the river by night and by day; and thousands of British and American emigrants have settled down in all directions to the pursuits of agriculture and commerce, where only forty years ago was heard the hoot of the owl, the cry of the whip-poor-will, and the sharp stroke of the squatter's axe. Or, he takes you into the Great Pine Swamp, like a mass of darkness," the ground overgrown by laurels and pines of all sorts; he has his gun and note-book in hand, and soon you have the wood-thrush, wild turkeys, pheasants, and grouse lying at his feet, with the drawings of which he enriches his portfolio; or you are listening to his host, while he reads by the log fire the glorious poetry of Bns. Again, you are with him on the wide prairie, treading some old Indian track, amid brilliant flowers and long grass, the fawns and their dams gambolling along his path, and across boundless tracks

66

While you read Audubon's books, you feel that you are in the society of no ordinary naturalist. Everything he notes down is the result of his own observation. Nature, not books, has been his teacher. You feel the fresh air blowing in your face, scent the odour of the prairie flowers and the autumn woods, and hear the roar of the surf along the seashore. He takes you into the squatter's hut in the lonely swamp, where you listen to the story of the woodcutter's life, and sally out in the night to hunt the cougar; or he launches you on the Ohio in a light skiff, where he paints for you in glowing words the rich autumnal tints decorating the shores of that queen of rivers; every tree hung with long and flowing festoons of different species of vines, many loaded with clustered fruits of varied brilliancy, their rich bronzed carmine mingling beautifully with the yellow foliage pre-of rich lands as yet almost untrodden by the foot of the dominating over the green leaves,-gliding down the river under the rich and glowing sky, thus characterizing what is called the "Indian summer,' ," and reminding you of the delicious description in Longfellow's Evangeline-majestic trunk, crowned with evergreen leaves and deco

Now through rushing chutes, among green islands, where plume-like,
Cotton-trees nodded their shadowy crests, they swept with the current,

Then emerged into broad lagoons, where silvery sandbars
Lay in the stream, and along the wimpling waves of their margin,
Shining with snow-white plumes, large flocks of pelicans waded.
Over their heads the towering and tenebrous boughs of the cypress
Met in a dusky arch, and trailing mosses in mid-air
Waved like banners that hang on the walls of ancient cathedrals.

Then from a neighbouring thicket the mocking bird, wildest of singers,

Swinging aloft on a willow-spray that hung o'er the water,
Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music,
That the whole air, and the woods, and the waves, seemed silent to

listen.

white man, and then only by the Canadian trappers or Indian missionaries. Or, he is on the banks of the Mississippi, where the great magnolia shoots up its

rated with a thousand beautiful flowers that perfume the air around; where the forests and fields are adorned with blossoms of every hue; where the golden orange ornaments the gardens and the groves; where the white flowered stuartia and innumerable vines festoon the dense foliage of the magnificent woods, shedding on the vernal breeze the perfume of their clustered flowers; there, by the side of deep streams, or under the dense foliage, he watches by night the mocking-bird, the whip-poor-will, the yellow-throat, the humming bird, and the thousand beautiful songsters of that delicious land. Then a crevasse, or sudden eruption of the swollen In one of his excursions on the Ohio, Audubon was Mississippi occurs, and forthwith he is floating over the accompanied by his wife and eldest son, then an infant, submerged lands of the interior, nature all silent and and they floated on from Pennsylvania to Kentucky-melancholy, 'unless when the mournful bleating of the sleeping and living in the boat-under the Indian summer hemmed-in deer reaches the ear, or the dismal scream of sun and the mellowed beauty of the moon, skirting the an eagle or a raven is heard, as the bird rises from the delicious shores, so picturesque and lovely at that autumn carcase on which it had been allaying its appetite. season,-gliding along the stream, and meeting with no other ripple of the water than that formed by the propulsion of the boat. The margins of the river were at that time, (for this voyage took place about forty years ago.) abundantly supplied with game, and occasionally the party landed at night on the green shore; a few gunshots procured a wild turkey, or grouse, or a blue-winged teal; a fire was struck up, and a comfortable repast procured, after which the family again proceeded quietly on their way down the stream. The following is only one of the many lovely pictures sketched by Audubon of this

How gloriously Audubon paints the eagle of his native land! The American white-headed eagle that haunts the Mississippi stands sculptured before your eyes in his book. See! he takes wing, and there you have him whirling up into the air as a noble swan comes in sight, and now there is the screaming pursuit and the fatal struggle.

"Now is the moment to witness the display of the eagle's powers. He glides through the air like a falling star, and, like a flash of lightning, comes upon the timorous quarry, which now, in agony and despair, seeks, by various manoeuvres, to elude the grasp of his cruel

mind, and a generosity of soul, such as are seldom possessed. He was brave, so is the eagle; like it too, he was the terror of his foes; and his fame, extending from pole to pole, resembles the majestic soarings of the mightiest of the feathered tribes. If America has reason to be proud of her Washington, so has she to be proud of | her Great Eagle."

talons. It mounts, doubles, and willingly would plunge into the stream, were it not prevented by the eagle, which, long possessed of the knowledge that by such a stratagem the swan might escape him, forces it to remain in the air by attempting to strike it with his talons from beneath. The hope of escape is soon given up by the swan. It has already become much weakened, and its strength fails at the sight of the courage and swiftness of In the course of his extensive wanderings, Audubon its antagonist. Its last gasp is about to escape, when fell in with all sorts of adventures. Once he was within an the ferocious eagle strikes with his talons the under inch of his life in a solitary squatter's hut in one of the side of its wing, and with unresisted power forces the wide prairies of the Upper Mississippi; in one of the exbird to fall in a slanting direction upon the nearest tensive swamps of the Choctau territory in the State of shore." Mississippi, he joined in the hunt of a ferocious cougar or Then we have the same bird on the Atlantic shore in painter (panther) which had been the destruction of the pursuit of the fish-hawk. "Perched on some tall sum-flocks in that neighbourhood; in the Banem of Kentucky, mit, in view of the ocean, or of some water-course, he he was once surprised by an earthquake, the ground watches every motion of the osprey while on wing. When rising and falling under his terrified horse like the ruffled the latter rises from the water, with a fish in its grasp, waters of a lake; he became familiar with storms and forth rushes the eagle in pursuit. He mounts above the hurricanes, which only afforded new subjects for his fish-hawk, and threatens it by actions well understood, graphic pen; he joined in the Kentucky hunting sports, when the latter, fearing perhaps that its life is in danger, or with the Indian expeditions on the far prairie; he drops its prey. In an instant, the eagle, accurately esti-witnessed the astounding flights of wild pigeons in mating the rapid descent of the fish, closes his wings, countless multitudes, lasting for whole days in succession, follows it with the swiftness of thought, and the next so that "the air was literally filled with pigeons, the moment grasps it. The prize is carried off in silence to light of noonday obscured as by an eclipse, the dung the woods, and assists in feeding the ever-hungry brood fell in spots not unlike melting flakes of snow, and the of the eagle." continued buzzing of the millions of wings had a tendency to lull the senses to repose," one of these enormous flocks extending, it is estimated by Audubon, over a space of not less than 180 miles; then he is on the trail of the deer or the buffalo in the hunting grounds of the far west, he misses his way, and lies down for the night in the copse under the clear sky, or takes shelter with a trapper, where he is always welcome; then he is in the Gulf of Mexico, spending weeks together in the pursuit of birds, or in observing their haunts and habits; then he is in the thick of a bear hunt. Such is the rapid succession of objects that passes before you in the first volume of the " 'Birds of America," interspersed with delicious descriptions of such birds as the mocking-bird, whip-poor-will, humming-bird, wood-thrush, and other warblers of the grove.

But Audubon did not like the white-headed eagle, no more than did Franklin, who, in common with the ornithologist, regretted its adoption as the emblem of America, because of its voracity, its cowardice, and its thievish propensities. Audubon's favourite among the eagles of America, was the great eagle, or "The Bird of Washington" as he named it. He first saw this grand bird when on a trading voyage with a Canadian, on the Upper Mississippi, and his delight was such that he says, "Not even Herschell, when he discovered the planet that bears his name, could have experienced more rapturous feelings." But the bird had soon flown over the heads of the party and became lost in the distance. Three years elapsed before he saw another specimen; and then, when engaged in collecting cray-fish on one of the flats which border and divide Green River, in Kentucky, near In his description of the wood-thrush, which he conits junction with the Ohio, he discerned up among the fesses to be his " 'greatest favourite of the feathered high cliffs which there follow the windings of the river, tribes," you see something of the hardships to which he the marks of an eagle's nest. Climbing his way up, he exposed himself by the enthusiasm to which he gave lay in wait for the parent: two hours elapsed, and then himself up to his exciting pursuit. How often," he the loud hissings of two young eagles in the nest an-says "has it revived my drooping spirits when I have nounced the approach of the old bird, which drew near and dropped in among them a fine fish. "I had a perfect view," he says, "of the noble bird as he held himself to the edging rock, hanging like the barn, bank, or social swallow, his tail spread, and his wings partly so. In a few minutes the other parent joined her mate, and from the difference in size (the female of rapacious birds being much larger) we knew this to be the mother bird.in one mass of fearful murkiness, save when the red She also had brought a fish, but, more cautious than her mate, she glanced her quick and piercing eye around, and instantly perceived that her abode had been discovered. She dropped her prey, with a loud shriek communicated the alarm to her mate, and, hovering with him over our heads, kept up a growling cry, to intimidate us from our suspected design. This watchful solicitude I have ever found peculiar to the female; must I be understood to speak only of birds?"

Two years more passed in fruitless efforts to secure a specimen of this rare bird; but at last he was so fortunate as to shoot one; and then gave it the name it bears "The Bird of Washington," the noblest bird of its genus in the States. Why he so named the bird he thus explains "To those who may be curious to know my reasons, I can only say, that, as the New World gave me birth and liberty, the great man who ensured its independence is next to my heart. He had a nobility of

listened to its wild notes in the forest, after passing a restless night in my slender shed, so feebly secured against the violence of the storm as to show me the futility of my best efforts to rekindle my little fire, whose uncertain and vacillating light had gradually died away under the destructive weight of the dense torrents of rain that seemed to involve the heavens and the earth

streaks of the flashing thunderbolt burst on the dazzled eye, and glancing along the huge trunk of the stateliest and noblest tree in the immediate neighbourhood, were instantly followed by an uproar of crackling, crashing and deafening sounds, rolling their volumes in tumaltuous eddies far and near, as if to silence the very breathings of the unformed thought. How often, after such a night, when far from my dear home, and deprived of the presence of those nearest and dearest to my heart, wearied, hungry, drenched, and so lonely and desolate as almost to question myself why I was thus situated; when I have seen the fruits of my labours on the eve of being destroyed, as the water collected into a stream rushed through my little camp, and forced me to stand erect, shivering in a cold fit, like that of a severe ague; when I have been obliged to wait with the patience of a martyr for the return of day, trying in vain to destroy the tormenting mosquitoes, silently counting

There's not a murmur on the ear, no shade to meet the attracted by a laugh. I turned and saw a group of