LESSON CIV.

Alexander Wilson.

CHAMBERS'S MISCELLANY.

THIS extraordinary man, who, from being originally an operative weaver, became, by his own unaided exertions, one of the most celebrated ornithologists of his day, was born in Paisley, on the 6th of July, 1766. His father was a distiller, poor in fortune, though said to have been endowed with an active and sagacious mind. He was so unfortunate as to lose his mother at the early age of ten, and was left without the tender and judicious care which a mother alone can give. On attaining his thirteenth year, he was bound apprentice, for three years, to his brother-in-law, to learn the business of a weaver, and, on the expiration of this term, continued to work as a journeyman.

The employment of a weaver, however, was by no means congenial to the disposition and propensities of the future ornithologist. He continued at this business, therefore, only four years, and, after various vicissitudes of fortune, came to this country in 1794.

It was not till the year 1803 that Wilson conceived the magnificent design of his American Ornithology; and even then his ideas on the subject fell very far short of the great work he afterwards achieved. At this period, he contemplated little more than "making a collection of the finest American birds," as he himself writes to a friend in Paisley. Having mentioned his intention to some of his American friends, they endeavored to dissuade him from prosecuting it, and, with a sincere regard for his interest, pointed out to him the formidable difficulties which he would have to encounter, and which appeared to them insurmountable. But they spoke in vain. Wilson's ardor and enthusiasm were more than a match for their prudence; and, trusting to his own resources, he quietly

but resolutely proceeded with his design; although — and it is a curious fact-when he began his stupendous work on American Ornithology, he did not know even the names of more than three or four of the American birds. But from this moment he devoted himself with a zeal and energy to the accomplishment of his enterprise, which removed all obstacles as fast as they presented themselves, and swept away all diffi. culties, as straws are swept away by the stream.

In October, 1804, with his gun on his shoulder, he made the first of that series of perilous journeys through the wilds of America, which he found it necessary to perform to obtain an accurate and intimate knowledge of the birds of the forest ; and amidst privations and hardships which few men but himself would have voluntarily encountered, he completed a journey of twelve hundred miles on foot, through deep snows, boundless forests, deep and dangerous rivers, and over wild and desolate mountains. But the experience of this perilous and painful excursion, instead of damping his ardor, had the effect only of increasing it. In the spring of the following year, he had completed drawings of twenty-eight rare birds; but at this period the general aspect of his affairs was exceedingly gloomy. He was without means and without money, and was persevering in a course which his friends thought an imprudent one, and was, therefore, without even words of encouragement to cheer him on his way. But neither these disheartening considerations, nor any other, could deter him from prosecuting his great design. So far from being discouraged by the difficulties which surrounded him, he declared that he would proceed with his plan, even if it should cost him his life; and, in that noble spirit which belongs to true genius alone, exclaimed, "I shall at least leave a small beacon to point out where I perished."

On his explaining the nature and object of his undertaking, a Mr. Bradford, of Philadelphia, readily consented to become his publisher; and in September, 1808, the first volume of

American Ornithology appeared, one of the most splendid books which had then emanated from the American press; but, unfortunately, the price was thought, necessarily, much too high for a country which was comparatively in its infancy, and which had not then had time to turn its attention to the arts or sciences, or to acquire a sufficient taste for them to encourage such an expensive appeal on their behalf. The price of the work, when completed, was to be one hundred and twenty dollars. It is not, therefore, at all surprising to find that, even a considerable time after its publication, its ingenious, but in this respect certainly injudicious, author could only boast of forty-one names on his list of subscribers.

The second volume appeared in January, 1810; and, immediately after its appearance, the author set out on another tour, in quest of support and patronage. This time he penetrated into the valley of the Ohio and Mississippi. At Pittsburg, he succeeded beyond his expectations in getting subscribers; and, after ascertaining that the roads were such as to render a land journey impossible, he bought a small boat, which he named the Ornithologist, intending to proceed in it down the Ohio to Cincinnati, a distance of more than five hundred miles. Some advised him not to undertake the journey alone; but he had made up his mind, and only waited, exploring the woods in the interval, till the ice had left the stream. At length, the time arrived for his departure on this inland voyage. His provision consisted of some biscuit and cheese, and a bottle of cordial, given him by a gentleman in Pittsburg. One end of the boat was occupied by his trunk, great-coat, and gun; and he had a small tin vessel, with which to bale his boat, and to drink the water of the Ohio. Thus equipped, he launched his little boat. The weather was calm, and the river like a mirror, except where fragments of ice were floating down the stream. His heart expanded with delight at the novelty and wildness. of the scene. The song of the red-bird in the deep forests on the shore, the smoke of the various sugar-camps rising

gently along the mountains, and the little log-huts which here and there opened from the woods, gave an appearance of life to a landscape which would otherwise have been lonely and still. Our traveller's lodgings by night were less tolerable than his voyage, as he went down the desolate stream. The first night was passed in a log cabin, fifty-two miles below Pittsburg, where he slept on a heap of straw.

Having reached Cincinnati, he there got a few subscribers for his work, and then proceeded to Louisville, where he sold his boat. He next walked a distance of seventy-two miles, to Lexington, and afterwards to Nashville. From this place, in spite of the remonstrances of his friends, he started alone, on horseback, to make his way through the wilderness to New Orleans. After encountering many hardships and perils, in a little more than a month he completed his journey to that city, where he embarked in a vessel for New York. Having reached New York, he proceeded to Philadelphia, and at once applied himself with unwearied industry to the preparation of the third volume of his Ornithology. Between this period and 1812, he made several other journeys throughout the country, partly with the view of promoting the sale of his publication, and partly to procure materials for his study an object which he never lost sight of; seldom travelling, whatever might be the immediate or ostensible cause of his changing place, without his fowling-piece.

In the year above named, he received a gratifying proof of the estimation in which his merits were beginning to be held. This was his being chosen a member of the Society of Artists of the United States; and in the spring of the following year, he was admitted to the American Philosophical Society, in Philadelphia. But this extraordinary man was not destined to see either the completion of his meritorious labors, or to enjoy the triumph of achieving all that he designed. The excessive labor and fatigue both of body and mind, to which he had for many years subjected himself, gradually undermined his con

stitution, and prepared it to yield to the first act of indiscretion to which it should be exposed; and this, unfortunately, very soon occurred.

While sitting one day with a friend, he caught a glimpse from the window of a rare bird, for which he had long been vainly looking out. The instant he saw it, he seized his gun, rushed out of the house in pursuit of it, and, after an arduous chase, during which he swam across a river, succeeded in killing it; but he succeeded at the expense of his life. He caught a violent cold; this was followed by dysentery, which carried him off after an illness of ten days. He died on the morning of the 23d August, 1813, in the forty-seventh year of his age, and was buried in the cemetery of the Swedish church in Southwark, Philadelphia. A plain marble monument, with an inscription, intimating his age, the place and date of his birth, and of his death, marks the place of his sepulture.

Wilson had completed the seventh volume of his Ornithology before he died, and was engaged, when seized with his last illness, in collecting materials for the eighth. At this he labored with an assiduity and unremitting industry which called forth. the remonstrances of his friends. His reply, while it seems to indicate a presentiment of his premature fate, is at the same time characteristic of his extraordinary enthusiasm and diligence. "Life is short," he would say on these occasions, "and nothing can be done without exertion." Nor is a wish, which he repeatedly expressed to a friend some time before his death, less characteristic of his amiable nature and deep admiration of the works of his Creator. This wish was, he might be buried where the birds might sing over his grave. Although this most indefatigable genius did not live to enjoy the reward of his diligence, he certainly anticipated what has come to pass that his work would always be regarded as a subject of pride by his adopted country, as it certainly is by the country which gave him birth, and would secure a high degree of honor for him whose name it bears.

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