learned by another; and whole nations have sunk from a condition of improvement to one of ignorance and barbarity, sometimes in a very few years. But no such dreadful catastrophe is now to be feared.

Those who come after us will not only equal, but surpass their predecessors. The existing arts will be improved, science will be carried to new heights, and the great heritage of useful knowledge will go down unimpaired and augmented. But it is all to be shared out anew; and it is for each person to say what part he will gain in the glorious patrimony. When the rich man is called from the possession of his treasures, he divides them as he will among his children and heirs. But an equal Providence deals not so with the living treasures of the mind. There are children just growing up in the bosom of obscurity, in town and in country, who have inherited nothing but poverty and health, who will, in a few years, be striving in stern contention with the great intellects of the land.

Our system of free schools has opened a straight way from the threshold of every abode, however humble, in the village or in the city, to the high places of usefulness, influence, and honor. And it is left for each, by the cultivation of every talent; by watching, with an eagle's eye, for every chance of improvement; by bounding forward, like a greyhound, at the most distant glimpse of honorable opportunity; by grappling, as with hooks of steel, to the prize, when it is won; by redeeming time, defying temptation, and scorning sensual pleasure, to make himself useful, honored, and happy.

Our whole country is a great and speaking illustration of what may be done by native force of mind, without advantages, but starting up under strong excitement, into a new and successful action. What man can start in life, with so few opportunities as our country started with, in the race of independence? Over whose private prospects can there hang a cloud as dark as that which brooded over the cause of America? Who can have less to encourage, and more to appal and dishearten him, than the sages and chieftains of the Revolution?

Let us, then, endeavor to follow in their steps; and each, according to his means and ability, try to imitate their glorious example; despising difficulties, grasping at opportunities, and steadily pursuing some honest and manly aim. We shall soon find, that the obstacles which oppose our progress sink into the dust before a firm and resolute step; and that the pleasures and benefits of knowledge are within the reach of all who seek it.

TO A SPRING BIRD.

BY J. H. HANAFORD.

SAY, lovely, pretty warbler, say,

Why hast thou perched so high? Why sing so sweetly, frisk so gay,

'Mid winds and threat'ning sky?

What cheering tidings dost thou bring
From southern climes remote,
Where reigns a verdant, joyous spring,
And balmy breezes float?

Amid those spicy forests green,
What carols hailed the day?
What novel, comely forms were seen,
Adorned in bright array?

What stranger ones, lone bird, were there,
To join in songs of praise?
What varied voices filled the air,

As rose those matin lays?

Why hast thou left so far behind

Thy mate and kindred dear,
To brave so soon the chilling wind,

And snows, and hail, and tempests drear?

Yet welcome here, thou joyous bird,

Loved harbinger of flowers;
Oft let thy tuneful voice be heard,
And cheer these lonely hours.

As nature wakes at dawn of day,
And morning tints appear,
Then upward raise thy sweetest lay,
And ever linger near.

the former, the beauty and softness of their plumage, the manifestations of their pleasure or their sense of danger, and the always perfect forms and splendid attire of the latter. He would speak of the departure and return of birds with the season, describe their haunts, and, more wonderful than all, their change of livery; thus exciting me to study them, and to raise my mind toward their great Creator.

"A vivid pleasure shone upon those days of my early youth, attended with a calmness of feeling that seldom failed to rivet my attention for hours, while I gazed with ecstacy upon the pearly and shining eggs, as they lay embedded in the softest down, or among dried leaves and twigs, or were exposed upon the burning sand, or weather-beaten rock of our Atlantic shore. I was taught to look upon them as flowers yet in the bud.

I grew up, and my wishes grew with my form. I was fervently desirous of becoming acquainted with nature. I wished to possess all the productions of nature, but I wished life with them. This was impossible. Then, what was to be done? I turned to my father, and made known to him my disappointment and anxiety. He produced a book of Illustrations. A new life ran in my veins. I turned over the leaves with avidity, and, although what I saw was not what I longed for, it gave me a desire to copy nature. To nature I went, and tried to imitate her.

"How sorely disappointed did I feel, for many years, when I saw that my productions were worse than those which I ventured to regard as bad in the book given me by my father. My pencil gave birth to a family of cripples. So maimed were most of them, that they more nearly resembled the mangled corpses on a field of battle, than the objects which I had intended them to represent.

"These difficulties and disappointments irritated me, but never for a moment destroyed the desire of obtaining perfect representations of nature. The worse my drawings were, the more beautiful did I see the originals. To have been torn from the study, would have been as death to My time was entirely occupied with it. I produced hundreds of these rude

me.

sketches annually, and for a long time, at my request, they made bonfires on the anniversary of my birthday."

In his sixteenth year, young Audubon was sent to France, to pursue his education. While there, he attended schools of natural history and the arts, and took lessons in drawing from the celebrated David. Although he prosecuted his studies zealously, his heart still panted for the sparkling streams of his "native land of groves."

He returned in his eighteenth year, with an ardor for the woods, and soon commenced a collection of drawings, which have since swelled into a series of magnificent volumes-"The Birds of America." These designs were begun on the farm given him by his father, situated near Philadelphia, on the banks of the Schuylkill.

There, amid its fine woodlands, its extensive fields, its hills crowned with evergreens, he meditated upon his simple and agreeable objects, and pursued his rambles, from the first faint streaks of day until late in the evening, when, wet with dew, and laden with feathered captives, he returned to the quiet enjoyment of the fire-side. There, too, he was married, and was fortunate in choosing one who animated his courage amid vicissitudes, and in prosperity appreciated the grounds and measures of his success.

For many years the necessities of life drove him into commercial enterprises, which proved unsuccessful. His love for the fields and flowers, the forests and their winged inhabitants, unfitted him for trade. His chief gratification was derived from observation and study. His friends strove to wean him from his favorite pursuits, and he was compelled to struggle against the wishes of all, except his wife and children. They alone encouraged him, and were willing to sink or swim with the beloved husband and father. At length he gave himself entirely to observation and study of the feathered inhabitants of the forest.

He undertook long and tedious journeys; he ransacked the woods, the lakes, the prairies, and the shores of the Atlantic; he spent years away from his family. "Yet, will you believe it," says he, "I had no other object in view than simply

to enjoy the sight of nature. Never for a moment did I conceive the hope of becoming, in any degree, useful to my fellow beings, until I accidentally formed an acquaintance with Charles Lucien Bonaparte, at Philadelphia, on the 5th of April, 1824."

It was soon afterward that Bonaparte, having examined Audubon's large collection of beautiful drawings, and observed his extensive knowledge of birds, said to him, "Do you know that you are a great man?" In reply, Mr. Audubon asked him his intention in making such a remark. "Sir," answered Bonaparte, "I consider you the greatest ornithologist in the world." He then suggested to him the importance of collecting and offering to the public the treasures which he had amassed during his wild journeyings.

This idea seemed like a beam of new light to Audubon's mind, and added fresh interest to his employment. For weeks and months he brooded over the kindling thought. He went westward to extend the number and variety of his drawings, with a view of preparing for a visit to Europe, and the publication of his works. When far away from the haunts of man, in the depths of forest solitude, happy days and nights of pleasant dreams attended him.

Only two years passed after his first interview with Lucien Bonaparte, in Philadelphia, before Audubon sailed for England. He arrived at Liverpool in 1826. Despondency and doubt seemed now to come upon him. There was not a known friend to whom he could apply in all the nation. And he imagined, in the simplicity of his heart, that every individual to whom he was about to present his subject might possess talents far superior to his own. For two days he traversed the streets of Liverpool, looking in vain for a single glance of sympathy.

There are kind and generous hearts everywhere, and men of noble faculties to discern the beautiful and true; and it was not long before Audubon's works procured him a generous reception from the most distinguished men of science and letters. In a short time he was the admired by all admirers.

Men of genius and honor, such as Cuvier,

Humboldt, Wilson, Roscoe, and Swainson, soon recognized his lofty claim; learned societies extended to him the warm and willing hand of friendship; houses of the nobility were opened to him; and wherever he went, the solitary American woodsman, whose talents were so little appreciated but a few years before, that he was rejected after being proposed by Lucien Bonaparte as a member of the Lyceum of Natural History, in Philadelphia, was now receiving the homage of the most distinguished men of science in the old world.

Before the close of 1830, his first volume of the "Birds of America" was issued. It was received with enthusiastic applause; royal names headed the subscription list, and one hundred and seventyfive volumes were sold at a thousand dollars each. In the mean time, (April, 1829,) Audubon returned to America, to explore anew the woods of the middle and southern States.

The winter and spring of 1832 he passed in Florida and in Charleston. Early the ensuing summer he bent his steps northward, and explored the forests of Maine, New Brunswick, the shores of the Bay of Fundy and the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and the coast of Labrador. Returning as the cold season approached, he visited Newfoundland and Nova Scotia, and, rejoining his family, proceeded to Charleston, where he spent the winter in the preparation of his drawings and the accompanying descriptions. In the following spring, after nearly three years spent in travel and research, he sailed again for England.

In 1834 the second volume of his works

was published. The three following years were passed in exploring Florida and Texas. A vessel was placed at his disposal by the government of the United States, to aid him in this noble enterprise. At the close of this period he published the fourth and last volume of plates, and the fifth volume of descriptions. The whole work comprises four hundred and thirty-five plates, containing more than one thousand figures, from the Bird of Washington to the tiny Humming Bird, all represented of the size, color, and attitude of life.

In 1839, having returned for the last time to his native country, and established

himself with his family at his beautiful residence on the banks of the Hudson, near New York city, he commenced the republication in this country of the "Birds of America," in seven large octavo volumes, which were completed in 1844.

Before the expiration of this period, however, he began to prepare for the press the "Quadrupeds of America." In this work he was assisted by the Rev. John Bachman, D. D. Accompanied by his sons, Victor Gifford, and John Woodhouse, he explored the reedy swamps of our southern shores, traversed forest and prairie, making drawings and writing descriptions of quadrupeds. The first volume of "Quadrupeds" appeared in New York in 1846. This work, consisting, we believe, of five volumes, has recently been concluded, and is no less interesting and valuable than the works of his earlier life.

Well might the great naturalist felicitate himself upon the completion of his gigantic task. He had spent nearly half a century "amid the tall grass of the farextended prairies of the west, in the solemn forests of the north, on the heights of the midland mountains, by the shores of the boundless ocean, and on the bosom of our vast bays, lakes, and rivers, searching for things hidden, since the creation of this wondrous world, from all but the Indian who has roamed in the gorgeous but melancholy wilderness."

Speaking of the enjoyment of home after retiring from a vocation in which he had spent a long life, so earnestly, faithfully and triumphantly, he says, "Once more surrounded by all the members of my dear family, enjoying the countenance of numerous friends who have never deserted me, and possessing a competent share of all that can render life agreeable, I look up with gratitude to the Supreme Being, and feel that I am happy."

At the age of sixty, Audubon possessed the sprightliness and vigor of a young man. In person he was tall, and remarkably well formed. His aspect was sweet and animated; and the childlike simplicity of his manners, and the cheerfulness of his temper, were worthy of universal imitation. These made him beloved by all who knew him.

He used to say that he had no faith in genius; that a man could make himself what he pleased by labor, and, by using every moment of time, the mind might be kept improving to the end of life. "Look at facts, and trust for yourself; meditate and reason," he would say, "it is thus a man should educate himself."

His

It was his object to learn everything from the prime teacher-Nature. glowing style, as well as his extensive knowledge, was the fruit of his own experiences. He never wrote for the press until after the age at which most authors have established their reputation. His facility for ready writing, he said, was acquired by keeping a journal, in which he recorded the events and reflections of each day-a practice worthy the example of every one.

For some years past his health had been, failing, and he was rarely seen beyond the limits of his beautiful residence. On the twenty-seventh of January, 1851, he died, full of years, and illustrious with the most desirable glory. He has indissolubly linked himself with the undying loveliness of nature, and thus left behind a monument of unending fame.