Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1873-01-22

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served only to amuse, to keep famine
from his door. Very soon he grew into
fame, in Kentucky, as crayon portrait
drawer. The rude settlers sent for him,
far and near, perhaps in the dead OF night,
to draw the dear features of the dying,
by the light of tallow candle; and one
child was taken from the very grave, that
he might preserve its loved face to its par
ents. He took great pleasure in the feats
Of the rough frontier-men, who were agile
as a squirrel, could snuff candle with a
ball at fifty PAGES.
Almost always out of money, he was
never out of spirits. If his boots gave
out, he knew how to get new pair by
immortalizing some grinning Crispin in
chalk and he paid for many nights
lodging by sketchy, but life like, por-
trait of his landlady. He could turn his
hand to any thing give lessons in drawing
or on the violin, teach dancing, or super
intend a gang of wood-choppers. But to
whatever uncongenial occupation he was
forced to turn, the under-current of his
life always ran one way-the careful
study of the habits of every living creature.
The patience he showed in waiting upon
Gods mute ones was the patience of gen.
Jus. The shy songsters of the woods were
not to be read like an open book. Once,
finding small gray bird almost invisi
BILE, b. cause it was just the color of the
bark Of the tree on which it lived, no body
could tell him any thing apout it. de
took a telescope microscope to the woods,
made a moss pillow, and lay there day by
day for three weeks, watching a pair that
were nesting. Then he went home jubi-
liant, and amply paid, because he had
found out all about the habits of on Of
the least attractive of all the forest birds.
Once, sitting on a hotel porch, he saw
superb eagle alight on nelghborlng tree.
Preparing his rifle. in the most leisurely
way, to shoot, the landlord besought him
to hurry, or the bird would fly. Never
fear that said the naturalist, q" | have
disturbed his nest in the swamp yonder
He is now examining damages, and won't
fly for hours" Sure enough, the bird sat
there as if inviting the marksman and
when he fell, Audubon climbed far up,
and sawed off the branch on which he had
perched, that he might draw him with
exact truth to nature.
1t was this perfect knowledge of every
attitude, motion, and expression of bird,
gained by long and patient watching, that
made Audubon, without special training
so consummate an artist. When he saw,
in England, the works of Landseer-prlnce
Of animal painters-while admiring the
exquisite coloring, he could not help polk
ing good-natured fun at the postures of
his beasts stays with mouths shut, and
tongues out, and huntsmen attitudinzing
like dancln g-masters.
We can not detail all the steps by which
this indomitable man grew to be the lead
ing bird-painter and chronicler of America.
Pluck and Observation-Disclosures won the
day with him, as with all heroes. Gradu-
ally he became known to men of wealth
and taste, who bought his pictures, when
he FASTENED to the wild-woods to 60 on
with his studies. A great plan was de-
veloping in his mind-to celebrate the
birds Of his country, life-sze, in splendid
series of paintings, taking in their natural
attitudes, and surrounded by the leaty fol-
age of the trees they loved best, all to be en-
graved in the highest style of art. These
were to be portrait albums of the birds
and their bio. raphies were to occupy other
volumes Of smaller size.
| The idea was magnificent but rude
America did not, fifty years ago, possess
! facil ties for its execution. To England he
must 90. One can not but smile to fine
our naturalist giving dancing lessons to
earn money for his voyage; but he did it
we'll, like every thing else, and earned two
thousand dollars.
His success III England was overwhem
ing He had letters Of introduction tC
many men Of rank and art but this grea
portfolio of splendid birds opened his way
into the highest circles. Dukes, earls
painters, and learned societies dlned an(
toasted him, and what was better, sub
scrlbed for the great work he was to brin!
out, at cost of over one hundred THOUSAND
dollars He started it without a penny
IN his pocket When his engraver am
coorist became clamorous for money, h
would rise at daybreak, paint a group o
rabbits, an otter, or pheasant, and carry
t, scarcely dry, to the shops for sale. Th
great mobiles rather liked the eXclusIvenes
Of buying work for thousand dollars
and subscribed in large numbers.
Back in his native land, Audubo
eagerly sought subjects for new drawing,
The contrast between a London drawing
room and log-cabin in pine swan
- was not inviting but fresh bird, or eve
an egg, would draw Audubon with hi
trusty gun, Tear jacket, to the drearie:
regions. He loved to hear the joyous CT
of the marsh hen, and draw the heron
;, his native fen. Again and again he wei
: to Florida, following perilous trail
J thro' grass as high as his head, or ridin
h through cypress swamps-the haunt
the igator-that he might make fait
full drawing af a cormorant or an ibis.
Then he was off for Labrador, amor
y the sordid eggers, who made wanton hav,
# of the beautiful eggs and down of tt
q elder duck. A new egg or bird gave hi
q more delight than the diamond ring Sc
7 him by Nicholas of Russia. When one
:. his back-woods friends heard of this d
+ tingulshed present, he said: " That's ju
Is my idea of these imperial emperors ; tn
:. never have any thing for poor man, b
y give their diamonds and gold to loaf
: cusses, who are too lazy to work, and
d make living shooting little chippy bird
! and then drawing their picters"
,e Audubon's last grand expedition W
St far out on the Western prairies; an
es though he felt the infrmities of age,
,f left his dear birds and forest freedom wi
70 signs of regret With the avails of b
,e books he bought beautiful wild spc
now within the bounds of New York Cit
~ which he named " Minnie's Land"
~ Mothers Land, in affectionate tribute
~ the noble wife-the Lucy of his youth