Burlington hawk-eye. [volume] (Burlington, Iowa) 1845-185?, 1851-02-27


And in one sequence of melodious sound,
Pours their music"
Southey's Madoc in Astlan.
l. INTRODUCTION.
A few years ago, there arrived at the hotel,
erected near Niagara Falls, an odd-ooking man :,
whose appearance was quite in contrast with
that Of the crowds of well dressed and polished
figures which adorned that celebrated resort.
He seemed just to have sprung from the woods.
His dress, which was made Of leather, stood
dreadiuy in need of repair, apparently not hav-
ing felt the touch Of either laundress or needle
woman for many a long month. A worn-out
blanket, that might have served for bed, was
buckled to his shoulders; a large knife hung on
one side, balanced by rusty tin box on the
other; and his beard, uncropped, tangled and
coarse, fell down upon his bosom, as if to coun-
terpoise the weight of black hair locks that sup
ported themselves upon his back and shoulders
This strange being, TO the spectators seemingly
half civilized and half-savage, had quick glanc-
ing eye, an elastic firm movement, and a sharp
face that seemed able to cut its way through the
cane-brakes, both Of society and of the wider
ness.
He pushed his steps into the sitting-room un-
strapped his little burden, quietly looked round
for the landlord, and then modesty asked for
breakfast. The host at first drew back with
evident repugnance at the apparition which thus
proposed to lutrude its uncouth form among the
genteel visiters, but word whispered in his ear
speedily satisfied his doubts. The stranger took
his place among the company; some staring,
some Struggling, and some even laughing outright.
Yet it has turned out, that there more in
that single man than in all the rest OF the throng;
he called himself an American woodsman he
was true genuine sou, of nature, yet one who
had been entertained with distinction at the table
of princes; learned societies, to which the like
of Cuvier belonged, had been proud to welcome
his entrance; in short, he was one whose fame
has been growing brighter, while the fashona-
bles who laughed at him, and many much greater
even than they, have utterly perished. From
every hilltop, and every deep shady grove, the
birds, those "lvng blossoms of the air." will
sing his name. The little wren will pipe it with
her matin hymn about our houses; the oriole
carol it from the slender grasses of the meadows
the turtle dove roll it through the secret forests
the many-voiced mocking-bird pour it along the
evening air :; and the imperial, the bird of Wash
ington, as he sits in his craggy home, far up the
blue mountains, will scream it to the tempests
and the stars He was John James Audubon,
the Ornthologist.
VII. A GREAT DISASTER.
But no earthquakes, nor hurricanes, nor the
carving knte OF the wild denizens of the desert,
could atct him half so much as he suffered in
consequence of an attack by wild and ferocious
animal-neither more nor less than-a rat. 1t
was calamity, the like of which is seldom re-
corded in literary history. Edward Livingston,
it is said, having finished his great code of Loui-
sanian law, beheld the labor of three persever-
ing Years perish in an instant in the flames {;
Thomas Carlyle, when he had finished the first
volume Of his French Revolution, had every
scrap of it burned through the carelessness of a
friend; and so Mr.. Audubon, having wandered
and toiled for years to get accurate representa-
tons of American birds, found that two Norway
rats had in night destroyed two hundred of his
original drawings, containing the forms of more
than thousand inhabitants Of the air. All were
gone, except few bits of knawed paper, upon
which the marauding rascals had reared family
of their young. "The burning. heat" says the
noble-hearted sufferer, "which instantly rushed
through my brain, was too great to be endured,
without affecting the whole of my nervous sys-
TEN. l slept not for several nights, and the days
past like daysof oblivion, until the animal pow
ers being recalled into action, through the
strength Of my constitution, took up my gun,