Save with him she loveth so
In long desire."

JOHN JAMES AUDUBON

(1780-1851)

The fame of this celebrated naturalist rests on one magnificent book,
'The Birds of America,' for which all his life may be said to have been
a preparation, and which certainly surpasses in interest every other
ornithological publication. For fifteen years before he thought of
making use of his collections in this way, he annually went alone with
his gun and his drawing materials into deep and unexplored forests and
through wild regions of country, making long journeys on foot and
counting nothing a hardship that added to his specimens. This passion
had controlled him from early childhood. His father, a Frenchman, was
living in New Orleans at the time of Audubon's birth in 1780, and with
the view of helping him in his studies, sent him to Paris when he was
fifteen years old, where he entered the drawing-class of David the
painter. He remained there two years; and it was after his return that
he made his memorable excursions, his home being then a farm at Mill
Grove, near Philadelphia.

In 1808 he removed with his family to the West, still continuing his
researches. Several years later he returned to Philadelphia with a
portfolio of nearly a thousand colored drawings of birds. What befell
them--a parallel to so many like incidents, as through Warburton's cook,
Newton's dog, Carlyle's friend, and Edward Livingston's fire, that they
seem one of the appointed tests of moral fibre--is best told in
Audubon's own language:--

"An accident," he says, "which happened to two hundred of my original
drawings, nearly put a stop to my researches in ornithology. I shall
relate it, merely to show how far enthusiasm--for by no other name can I
call my perseverance--may enable the preserver of nature to surmount the
most disheartening difficulties. I left the village of Henderson, in
Kentucky, situated on the banks of the Ohio, where I resided for several
years, to proceed to Philadelphia on business. I looked to my drawings
before my departure, placed them carefully in a wooden box, and gave
them in charge of a relative, with injunctions to see that no injury
should happen 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 No