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SUPPLEMENT
TO THE
AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY
OF
ALEXANDER WILSON.
CONTAINING
A SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR’S LIFE,
WITH A
SELECTION FROM HIS LETTERS; SOME REMARKS UPON HIS WRITINGS;
AND A
HISTORY OF THOSE BIRDS
AVHICH WERE INTENDED TO COMPOSE PART OF HIS
NINTH VOLUME.
ILLUSTRATED WITH PLATES, engraved from WHiSON’S ORIGINAL DRA^VINGS.
BY
GEORGE ORD, F. L. S.
MEMBER OP THE AM. PHIL. SOC. AND OF THE ACAD. NAT. SCIENCES OF PHILADELPHIA, AND i^r»i>npcpnMT>F.NT OP THE PHILOMATHIC SOCIETY OF PARIS.
PHILADELPHIA;
PUBLISHED BY J. LAVAL AND S. F. BRADFORD.
Eastsiih Distbict ot Peskstitania, to wit :
BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the second day of September, in the fiftieth year of the Independence of the United States of America, A. D. 1825, George Ord, of the said district, hath deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof he claims as author, in the words following, to wit :
“ Supplement to the American Ornithology of Alexander Wilson, Containing a Sketch of the Author’s life, with a Selection from his Letters ; some Remarks upon his Writings; and a History of those Birds which were intended to compose part of his Ninth volume. Illustrated with Plates, engraved from Wilson's original Drawings. By George Orel, F, L. S. Member of the Am. Phil. Soc. and of the Acad. Nat. Sciences of Philadelphia; and Correspondent of the Philomathic Society of Paris.”
In conformity to the act of the congress of the United States, intituled, ” An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books,
to the authors and proprietors ot such copies, during the times therein mentioned.”
And also to the act, entitled, “An act supplementary to an act, entitled “An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies, of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies during the times therein mentioned,” and ex- tending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints.”
D. CALDWELL,
Clerk of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
T. H. PALMER, PRINTER.
PREFACE.
IN the preface to the first edition of this supplementary volume, the motives of the publication are stated, and the peculiar circumstances under which its author was placed, in respect to ma- terials, are detailed ; there is, therefore, no need of repeating them.
It has been thought proper to augment the volume by a se- lection from the series of interesting letters, which were put into the writer’s hands by some of Wilson’s personal friends, who were anxious that these memorials should not be lost. It may be, per- haps, objected that some of them are of too trifling a nature for publication ; but let it be observed that they all, more or less, tend to throw light upon the employments, and peculiarities of charac- ter, of an individual of no every day occurrence ; one of those to whose genius we would render homage, and the memory of whom we delight to cherish.
For the particulars of Wilson’s early life, the writer has been indebted to a narrative, in manuscript, which was communicated to him by Mr. William Duncan. This information, coming from
via
PREFACE.
a nephew of Wilson’s, and his confidential friend for many years, must be deemed authentic ; and we have to regret that the plan and limits of our publication did not allow us to make a freer use of what was so kindly placed at our disposal.
To Mr. Duncan, Mr. Miller, and Mr. Lawson, the writer owes many obligations, for the promptitude with which they intrusted to him their letters ; and his acknowledgments are equally due to Colonel Robert Carr, who furnished him with the letters to the late William Bartram. The friendship which subsisted between Wil- son and the latter was of the most exalted kind ; and the warm expressions of confidence and regard which characterize these let- ters, will afford a proof of how much of the writer’s happiness was derived from this amiable intercourse. The reader’s obligations to Colonel Carr will not be lessened, when it is stated that the greater part of these interesting epistles were mislaid during the latter days of the venerable botanist to whom they were addressed ; and that it was through the care of the above-mentioned gentleman they were rescued from oblivion.
The errors of nomenclature which were committed in the first edition, it has been the author’s endeavour to correct in the pre- sent. These errors arose from the idea which he unadvisedly en- tertained, that he ought not to change those names which Wilson himself had sanctioned by adoption. A little more experience would have taught him the absurdity of this opinion, as science can be but ill advanced by a reliance on authority, independent of personal investigation.
PREFACE.
IX
The histories of the few birds which are given in this volume might have been enlarged, and made more interesting to the gene- ral reader, by the introduction of some particulars with which the writer’s experience had supplied him, in his recent travels and examinations. But when he found that the biographical part of the volume was swelled beyond its due proportion, he was com- pelled, however reluctantly, to forbear.
It will be long ere the lovers of science will cease to deplore the event, which snatched from us one so eminently gifted for natural investigations by his zeal, his industry, his activity, and his intelligence ; one who, after a successful prosecution of his great undertaking through a series of eventful years, was deprived of his merited reward at the moment when he was about putting the fin- ishing hand to those labours which have secured to him an im- perishable renown. “ The hand of death,” says Pliny, “ is ever, in my estimation, too severe, and too sudden, when it falls upon such as are employed in some immortal work. The sons of sen- suality, who have no other views beyond the present hour, termi- nate with each day the whole purpose of their lives ; but those who look forward to postei’ity, and endeavour to extend their memories to future generations by useful labours ; — to such, death is always immature, as it still snatches them from amidst some un- finished design.”
But although that Being, who so often frustrates human pur- poses, thought proper, in his wisdom, to terminate the “ unfinished design” of our lamented friend, yet were his aspirations after an honourable distinction in society fully answered. The poor de-
VOL. IX.
B
X
PREFACE.
spised weaver of Paisley takes his rank among the writers of our country; and after ages shall look up to the Father of American Ornithology, and bless that Providence, which, by inscrutable ways, led him to the only spot, perhaps, of the civilized earth, where his extraordinary talents would be encouraged to develope themselves, and his estimable qualities of heart would be duly ap- preciated.
Wilson has proved to us what genius and industry can effect in despite of obstacles, which men of ordinary abilities would con- sider insurmountable. His example will not be disregarded; and his success will be productive of benefits, the extent of which can- not be estimated. Already has that country, of whom it was sneeringly said, that she had “ done nothing, either to extend, di- versify, or embellish, the sphere of human knowledge and by whom a “paltry contribution to Natural History, a little elemen- tary Treatise of Botany, which appeared in 1803, was chronicled among the remarkable occuiTenees since the Revolution and “ the destruction of whose whole literature would not occasion so much regret as we feel for the loss of a few leaves from an ancient classick’’"'— already has that country, which has hardly passed the period of childhood, produced works on the Natural Sciences, which have excited the attention and applause of Europe ; works which may be considered merely as specimens of what her enter-
* These austere remarks were published in the year 1810, sixteen months after the ap- pearance of Wilson s first volume ; and in that part of Great Britain, too, where the “ Ameri- can Ornithology had been received, and had excited no ordinary degree of the attention of the public.
PREFACE.
XI
prise and genius are capable of achieving ; I allude, particularly, to the excellent botanical publications of doctors W. P. C. Barton and I. Bigelow, and the beautiful Entomology of Say ; and before this volume will have met the public eye, the splendid Ornithology of the Prince of Musignano, will have convinced our trans-atlantic sciolists of the indiscretion of dogmatically promulgating opinions on those branches of human knowledge, in the advancement of which they themselves are so notably deficient.
Philadelphia, July 4, 1825.
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BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
OF
ALEXANDER WILSON.
ALEXANDER WILSON was born in the town of Paisley, in the west of Scotland, on the sixth day of July, 1766. His father, who was also named Alexander, followed the distilling business ; an humble occupation, which neither allowed him much time for the improvement of his mind, nor yielded him much more than the necessaries of life. He was illiterate and poor; and died on the 5th June, 1816, at the age of eighty-eight. His mother was a native of Jura, one of the Hebrides or Western Islands of Scotland. She is said to have been a woman of delicate health, but of good understanding; and passionately fond of Scotch music, a taste for which she early inculcated on her son; who, in his riper years, cul- tivated it as one of the principal amusements of his life. She died when Alexander was about ten years old, leaving him, and two sis- ters, to mourn their irreparable loss ; a loss which her affectionate son never ceased to deplore, as it deprived him of his best friend ; one who had fostered his infant mind; and who had looked forward, with fond expectation, to that day,
“ When, clad in sable gown, with solemn air,
“The walls of God’s own house should echo back his prayer:”
For it appears to have been her wish that he should be educated for the ministry.
VOL, IX. D
M. EVmhJHT, West ChfiMe? Fa.,
Jfct to dd ioancci on '(>ny Condit ' •
XIV
LIFE OF WILSON.
At a school in Paisley, Wilson wast aught the common rudi- ments of learning. But what proficiency he made, whether he was distinguished from his schoolmates or not, my memorials of his early life do not inform me. It appears that he was initiated in the ele- ments of the Latin tongue ; but having been removed from school at the age of twelve or thirteen, the amount of knowledge acquired could not have been great ; and I have i-eason to believe that he never afterwards resumed the study. His early productions shoAv that his English education had not only been greatly cireumscribed, but very imperfect. He wrote, as all self-taught authors write, care- lessly and incorrectly; his sentences, eonstructed by the ear, often displease one by their gross violations of the rules of grammar, an essential part of learning to which he never seriously applied him- self, until, after his arrival in America, he found it necessary to qualify himself for an instructor of youth.
Wilson’s father, feeling the want of a helper in the government of an infant family, again entered into the matrimonial state. The maiden name of this second wife was Brown.
It was the intention of the father that Alexander should be edu- cated for a physician; but this design was not relished by the son, who had, through the impertinent interference of some persons, imbibed some prejudices against the profession, which were the cause of the project’s being abandoned.
It being the wish of the step-mother that the boy should be put to a trade, he was accordingly apprenticed to his brother-in-law, William Duncan, who then resided in Paisley, to learn the art of weaving. That this determination was the result of good sense there can be no doubt ; the employment had the tendeney to fix a disposition somewhat impetuous and wavering ; and the useful knowledge acquired thereby he was enabled, at a subsequent period o 1 e, to turn to account, when mental exertion, even with supe- nor resources, would have availed him but little.
life of WILSON.
XV
The scheme of being taught a trade met with little or no op- position from the subject of this memoir, his father’s house no lon- ger affording him that pleasure which it had done during the life of her who had given him existence. Some difference had arisen between him and his step-mother ; whether from undutifiil conduct of his, or harsh treatment of hers, I know not; but it may be assert- ed with truth that she continued an object of his aversion through life ; which was manifest from the circumstance that, in llie many letters which he wrote from America to his father, he seldom, if ever, mentioned her name. She is still living, and must, doubt- less, feel not a little that her predictions with respect to the
» lazy weaver r as ^andy was termed at home, who, instead of mind- ing his business, mispent his time in making verses, were never verified. But, in justice to her character, we must state, that, if she was an unkind step-mother, she nevertheless proved herself to be a faithful and affectionate wife; and supported, by her industry, her husband when he became, by age and infirmities, incapable of
labour.
At an early period of his life Wilson evinced a strong desire for learning ; and this was encouraged by a spirit of emulation which prevailed among his youthful acquaintance, who, like him- self, happily devoted many of their vacant hours to literary pur- suits He had free access to a collection of magazines and es- says, which, by some good luck, his father had beeome possessed of; and these, as he himself often asserted, “ were the first books tlvdtgave him a fondness for reading and reflection.” This re- markable instance of the beneficial tendency of periodical publica- tions we record with pleasure; and it may be adduced as an argu- ment in favour of affording patronage, in our young country, to a species of literature so well adapted to the leisure of a commercial people, and which, since the days of Addison, has had so powerful an influence on the taste and morals of the British nation.
XVI
LIFE OF WILSON.
Caledonia is fruitful of verseinen: every village has its poets; and so prevalent is the habit of jingling rhymes, that a scholar is considered as possessing no taste, if he do not attune the Scottish lyre to those themes, which the amor patrii^^ the national pride of a Scotsman, has identified with his very existence.
That poetry would attract the regard of Wilson was to be expected; it was the vehicle of sentiments which were in unison with his sanguine temperament; he had early imbibed a love of vir- tue, and it now assumed a romantic cast by assimilation with the high-wrought efforts of fancy, combined with the melody of song.
After an apprenticeship of about five years Wilson became his own master; and, relinquishing the occupation of weaving, he re- solved to gratify his taste for rural scenery by journeying into the interior of the country, in the capacity of a pedler. He was now about eighteen, full of ardour and vivacity; had a constitution capable of great exertion; and a mind which promised resources amid every difficulty. Having been initiated in the art of trading, he shouldered his pack, and cheerfully set out in quest of riches. In a mind of a romantic turn, Scotland affords situations abundant- ly calculated to arouse all those associations which the sublime and beautiful in nature inspire, Wilson was an enthusiast; and the charms of those mountains, vallies, and streams, which had been immortalized in song, filled his soul with rapture, and incited some of the earliest efforts of his youthful muse.
To him who would accumulate wealth by trade, the muses must not be propitious. That abstraction of mind from worldly concerns which letters require, but ill qualifies one to descend to those arts, which, in order to be successfully practised, must be the unceasing objects of solicitude and attention. While the trader was feasting his eyes upon the beauties of a landscape, or enditing an elegy or a song, the auspicious moment to drive a bargain was neglected, or some more fortunate rival was allowed to supplant
LIFE OF WILSON.
xvii
him. From the habit of surveying the works of nature arose an indifference to the employment of trading, which became more dis- gusting at each interview with the muses ; and nothing but the dread of poverty induced him to conform to the vulgar avocations of common life.
Burns was now the favourite of the public ; and from the unexampled success of this humble son of genius, many aspired to the honours of the laurel, who otherwise would have confined their views of renown to the limited circle of their family or acquaint- ance. Among this number may be reckoned our Wilson ; who, believing that he possessed the talent of poetical expression, ven- tured to exhibit his essays to his friends, whose approbation en- couraged him to renewed perseverance, in the hope of emerging from that condition in society which his aspiring soul could not but disdain.
In consequence of his literary attainments, and correct moral deportment, he was admitted to the society of several gentlemen of talents and respectability, who descried in our youth the pro- mise of eminence. Flattered by attentions, which are always grate- ful to the ingenuous mind, he was imboldened to the purpose of collecting and publishing his poetical attempts ; hoping thereby to secure funds sufficient to enable him to persevere in the walks of learning, which, to his glowing fancy, appeared to be strewed with flowers.
In pursuance of this design he printed proposals ; and, being “ resolved,^’ to adopt his own language, ‘‘to make one bold push for the united interests of Pack and Poems,” he once more set out to sell his merchandise, and obtain patronage to his work.
This expedition was unprofitable : he neither advanced his fortune, nor received the encouragement of many subscriptions. Fortunate would it have been for him, if, instead of giving vent to his spleen at the supposed want of discernment of rising merit, or lack of taste for the effusions of genius, he had permitted himself
E
VOL. IX.
XVlll
LIFE OF WILSON.
to be admonished of his imprudence by the indifference of the pub- lic, and had taken that for an act of friendship which his wounded feelings did not fail to construe into contempt.
But in defiance of discouragement he published his volume, under the title of Poems, Humorous, Satirical and Serious.” The writer of this sketch has it now before him ; and finds in it the following I’emarks, in the hand-writing of the author himself ; “I published these poems when only twenty-two — an age more abundant in sail than ballast. Reader, let this soften the rigor of criticism a little.” Dated, “ Gray’s-Ferry, July 6th, 1804.” These poems were, in truth, the productions of a boy, who composed them under the most disadvantageous circumstances. They answered the purpose for which they were originally intended : to gratify the partiality of friendship, and alleviate moments of solitude and des- pondency. Their author, in his riper years, lamented his rashness in giving them to the world; and it is to be hoped that no one will be so officious as to draw them from that obscurity to which he himself sincerely rejoiced to see them condemned.* They went through two small editions in octavo, the last of which appeared in 1791. The author reaped no benefit from the publication.
Mortified at the ill success of his literary undertaking, and probably with the view of withdrawing himself from associates, who, instead of advancing, rather tended to retard his studies, Wilson retired to the little village of Lochwinnoch, situated in a delightful valley, a few miles from Paisley. In this sequestered place he had before resided ; and he now resorted to it, under the pressure of disappointment ; and soothed his mind with the em- ployment of letters ; and spent his vacant hours amid the roman- tic scenery of a country, which was well calculated to captivate one who had devoted himself to the service of the muses.
^ Notwithstanding the hope here expressed, an anonymous editor, influenced, doubtless, by sordid motives, published a selection from Wilson’s poems, at Paisley, in the year 1816; and prefixed to it a crude biographical sketch of the author.
LIFE OF WILSON.
XIX
While residing at Lochwinnocli he contributed some short prose essays to the Bee, a periodical work which was published at Edinburgh by Dr. Anderson. Of the merits of these essays I can- not speak, as I have never seen them. He also occasionally visit- ed the latter place, to frequent the Pantheon, wherein a society for debate held their meetings. In this assembly of minor wits he delivered several poetical discourses, which obtained him consider- able applause. The particulars of these literary peregrinations have been minutely related to me ; but, at this time, I will merely state, that he always performed his journies on foot ; and that his ardour to obtain distinction, drawing him away from his profes- sion, the only means of procuring subsistence, he was frequently reduced to the want of the necessaries of life.
Wilson, in common with many, was desirous of becoming personally acquainted with the poet Burns, who was now in the zenith of his glory ; and an accidental circumstance brought them together. The interview appeared to be pleasing to both ; and they parted with the intention of continuing their acquaintance by a correspondence. But this design, though happily begun, was frustrated by an imprudent act of the former, who, in a criticism on the tale of Tam O’Shanter, remarked of a certain passage that there was “ too much of the briite^^ in it. The paragraph alluded to is that which begins thus ;
“ Now Tam, O Tam ! had thae been queans.”
Burns, in reply, observed : “ If ever you write again to so iri'itable a creature as a poet, I beg you will use a gentler epithet than to say there is too much of the brute in any thing he says or does.’’ Here the correspondence closed.
From Lochwinnocli Wilson returned to Paisley; and again sought subsistence by mechanical labour. But at this period the result of the French revolution had become evident by the wars enkindled on the continent; and their influence on the manufac- tures of Great Britain, particularly those of Paisley, began to he
XX
LIFE OF WILSON.
felt. Revolution principles had also crept in among the artisans, which, superadded to the decline of business, were the means of many being thrown out of stated employment ; and the distress of others was not a little aggravated by exactions which it was sup- posed neither policy nor justice ought to have dictated. Hence arose a misunderstanding between the manufactui^ers and the weavers, which soon grew into a controversy, that awakened the zeal of both parties ; and Wilson, incited by principle, as well as intei'est, remained not idle on an occasion which seemed to de- mand the exercise of his talents for the benefit of the poor and the oppressed.
Among the manufacturers there was one of considerable wealth and influence ; who had risen from a low origin by a con- currence of fortunate circumstances ; and who had rendered him- self greatly conspicuous by his avarice and knavery. This ob- noxious individual was arraigned in a galling satire, written in the Scottish dialect ; which is well known to be fertile of terms of sar- casm or reproach. The piece was published anonymously; and, being suited to the taste of the multitude, was read with eagerness. But the subject of it, stung to the quick by the severity of the censure, sought revenge of his concealed enemy, who, through some unforeseen occurrence, was revealed in the person of Wilson. A prosecution for a libel was the consequence of the disclosure ; and our satirist was sentenced to a short imprisonment, and to burn, with his own hands, the poem at the public cross in the town of Paisley. Wilson underwent the sentence of the law, sur- rounded by his friends, a gallant and numerous band, who viewed him as a mai’tyr to the cause of honour and truth; and who, while his character was exalted in their opinion, failed not to stigmatize that of his adversary in all the bitterness of contempt. The prin- ter, it is said, was fined for his share in the publication,
in the year 1792, Wilson wrote his characteristic tale of Watty and Meg,” the last poem which he composed in Scotland.
LIFE OF WILSON.
XXI
It was published without a name ; and, possessing considerable merit, was, by many, attributed to Burns, This ascription certain* ly showed a want of discrimination, as this production displays none of those felicities of diction, none of that peculiar intermixture of pathos and humour, which are so conspicuous in the writings of Burns,. It has obtained more popularity in Scotland than any of the minor essays of our author ; and has been ranked with the best productions of the Scottish muse.
Cromek, in his sketch of Wilson^s life, adverting to the prose- cution above mentioned, says, that “the remembrance of this mis- fortune dwelt upon his mind, and rendered him dissatisfied with his country. Another cause of Wilson’s dejection was the rising fame of Burns, and the indifference of the public to his own produc- tions. He may be said to have envied the Ayrshire bard, and to this envy may be attributed his best production, ‘Watty and Meg,’ which he wrote at Edinburgh in 1793 (1792). He sent it to Niel- son, printer, at Paisley, who had suffered by the publication of his former poems. As it was, by the advice of his friends, published anonymously, it was generally ascribed to Burns, and went rapidly through seven or eight editions. Wilson, however, shared no part of the profits, willing to compensate for the former losses his pub- lisher had sustained.”*
The sketch above mentioned the author of this narrative show- ed to Wilson, and the latter told him that the relation was want- ing in correctness. He pointedly denied the charge of envying the Ayrshire bard, and felt not a little scandalized at the unworthy im- putation. He added, that no one entertained a more exalted idea of Burns’s genius, or I’ejoiced more at his merited success, than himself.
Wilson now began to be dissatisfied with his lot. He was
* Cromek’s “ Select Scottish Songs,” vol. 2, p, 214. London, 1810.
V
VOL. IX.
XXll
LIFE OF WILSON-
poor, and had no prospect of bettering his condition in his native country. Having heai'd flattering accounts of America, he con- ceived the design of emigrating thither, and settling in the United States.
It was some time in the latter part of the year 1793 that the resolution was formed of forsaking the land of his forefathers. His eye having been accidentally directed to a newspaper advertise- ment, which stated that the American ship Swift would sail from the port of Belfast, in Ireland, on the first of May following, with passengers for Philadelphia, he communicated his scheme, in con- fidence,, to his nephew, Mr. William Duncan, then a lad of sixteen, who consented to become his fellow-traveller in the voyage ; and an agreement was entered into of departing in the above mentioned ship.
The next subject of consideration was the procuring of funds; and as weaving presented the most eligible plan for this purpose, to the loom Wilson applied himself, for four months, with a dili- gence and economy almost surpassing belief ; the whole of his ex- penses during this period amounting to less than one shilling per week.
All matters being finally arranged, he set out on foot for Port Patrick, whence he embarked for Ireland. On reaching Belfast it was found that the ship had her complement of passengers; but, rather than remain, after so much exertion, Wilson and his compa- nion consented to sleep upon deck, and, consequently, they were permitted to depart in the ship, which sailed about the middle of May, and arrived at Newcastle, in the state of Delaware, on the fourteenth of July, 1794.
We now behold Alexander Wilson in a strange land; without an acquaintance on whose counsels and hospitality he could rely in that state of uncertainty to which, having no particular object in view, he was of course subjected ; without a single letter of intro-
LIFE OF WILSON.
XXIH
duction; and with not a shilling in his pocket.* But every care was forgotten in his transport at finding himself in the land of free- dom. He had often cast a wishful look towards the western hemi- sphere, and his warm fancy had suggested the idea, that among that people only, who maintained the doctrine of an equality of rights, could political justice be found. He had become indignant at beholding the influence of the wealthy converted into the means of oppression; and had imputed the wrongs and sufferings of the poor, not to the condition of society, but to the nature and consti- tution of the government. He was now free ; and exulted in his release, as a bird rejoices which escapes from the confinement of the cage. Impatient to set his foot upon the soil of the New World, he landed at the town of Newcastle ; and, shouldering his fowling- piece, he directed his steps towards Philadelphia, distant about thirty-three miles. The writer of this biography has a distinet re- collection of a conversation with Wilson on this part of his history, wherein he described his sensations on viewing the first bird that presented itself as he entered the forests of Delaware; it was a red- headed woodpecker, which he shot, and considered the most beau- tiful bird he had ever beheld.
On his arrival at Philadelphia, he deliberated upon the most eligible mode of obtaining a livelihood, to which the state of his funds urged immediate attention. He made himself known to a countryman of his, Mr. John Aitken, a copper-plate printer, who, on being informed of his destitute situation, gave him employment at this business, at which he continued for a few weeks ; but aban- doned it for his trade of weaving, having made an engagement with Mr. Joshua Sullivan, who resided on the Pennypack creek, about ten miles north of Philadelphia.
* This is Uterally true. The money which bore his expenses from Newcastle to Plnla- delphia was borrowed of a fellow passenger. The same generous friend, whose name was Oh- ver made him subsequently a loan of cash to enable him to travel mto Virginia.
XXIV
LIFE OF WILSON.
The confinement of the loom did not agree either with Wil- son’s habits or inclinations ; and learning that there was consider- able encouragement afforded to settlers in Virginia, he migrated thither, and took up his residence near Shepherd’s Town, in that part of the state known by the name of New Virginia.* Here he again found himself necessitated to engage in the same sedentary occupation ; and soon becoming disgusted with the place, he re- turned to the mansion of his friend, Mr. Sullivan.
I find from one of his journals, that, in the autumn of the year 1795, he travelled through the north part of the state of Newjer- sey, with an acquaintance, in the capacity of a pedler, and met with tolerable success.
His diary of this journey is interesting. It was written with so much care, that one is tempted to conjecture that he spent more time in literary occupation than in vending his merchandise. It contains observations on the manners of the people ; and remarks on the principal natural productions of Newjersey; with sketches of the most noted indigenous quadrupeds and birds. In these sketches one is enabled to perceive the dawning of that talent for description, which was afterwards revealed with so much lustre.
On his return from this trading adventure, he opened a school on the Oxford road, about five miles to the north of Frankford,
^ The habits of the people with whom Wilson was compelled to associate, in this sec- tion of the state, it should seem, gave him no satisfaction ; and the life he led added not a little to the chagrin which he suffered on finding himself an alien to those social pleasures which, hitherto, had tended to sweeten his existence. His letters at this period would, no doubt, afford some curious particulars, illustrative of his varied life ; but none of them have fallen into my hands. The following extract from some of his manuscript verses will lead to the conclusion that he did not quit Virginia with regret :
“ Farewell to Virginia, to Berkley adieu.
Where, like Jacob, our days have been evil and few 1 So few — they seem’d really but one lengthen’d curse ;
And so bad — that the Devil could have only sent worse.”
LIFE OF WILSON.
XXV
Pennsylvania. But being dissatisfied with this situation, he remo- ved to Milestown, and taught in the schoolhouse of that village. In this latter place he continued for several years ; and being defi- cient in the various branches of learning necessary to qualify him for an instructor of youth, he applied himself to study with great diligence ; and acquired all liis knowledge of the mathematics, which was considerable, solely by his own exertions. To teaching he superadded the vocation of surveying; and was occasionally employed, by the neighbouring farmers, in this business.
Whilst I'esiding at Milestown, he made a journey, on foot, to the Genessee country, in the state of Newyork, for the purpose of visiting his nephew, Mr. William Duncan, who resided upon a small farm, which was their joint property. This farm they had been enabled to purchase through the assistance of Mr. Sullivan, the gentleman in whose employ Wilson had been, as before stated. The object of this purchase, which some might deem an act of im- prudence in those whose slender funds did not suffice without the aid of a loan, was to procure an asylum for Mr. Duncan’s mother and her family of small children, whom poverty and misfortune had, a short time before, driven to this country. This was some- what a fatiguing journey to a pedestrian, who, in the space of twenty-eight days, travelled nearly eight hundred miles.
The life of Wilson now becomes interesting, as we are ena- bled, by a selection from his letters, to present him to the reader as his own biographer.
VOL. IX.
G
XXVI
LIFE OF WILSON.
To Mr. WM. DUNCAN.*
Milestoivn^ July 1, 1800.
“ Dear Bill,
“ I had the pleasure of yours by the hands of Mr. P. this day; and about four weeks ago I had another, dh'ected to Mr. Dobson’s care, both of which were as Avelcome to me as any thing, but your own self, could be. I am just as you left me, only my school has been thinner this season than formerly.
“I have had four letters from home, all of which I have answer- ed. Their news are — Dull trade — provisions most exorbitantly high — R.’s sister dead — the Seedhills mill burnt to the ground — and some other things of less consequence.
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
I doubt much if stills could be got up in time to do any thing at the distilling business this winter. Perhaps it might be a safer way to take them up, in the spring, by the Susquehanna. But if you are determined, and think that we should engage in the busi- ness, I shall be able to send them up either way. P. tells me that his two stills cost about forty pounds. I want to hear more deci- sively from you before I determine. Sooner than live in a country exposed to the ague, I would remain where I am.
“ O. comes out to stay with me two months, to learn survey- ing, algebra, &c. I have been employed in several places about this summer to survey, and have acquitted myself with credit, and to my own satisfaction. I should not be afraid to engage in any job with the instruments I have. * ^
“ S. continues to increase in bulk, money and respectability : a continual current of elevenpenny bits pouring in, and but few run- ning out.
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
^ Mr. Duncan at this time resided upon the farm mentioned above, which was situated in the township of Ovid, Cayuga county, Newyorlc.
t
LIFE OF WILSON.
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“We are very anxious to hear how you got up; and well pleased that you played the Horse Jockey so luckily. If you are fixed in the design of distilling, you will write me, by the first opportunity, before winter sets in, so that I may arrange matters in time.
“ I have got the schoolhouse enlarged, by contributions among the neighbours. In summer the school is, in reality, not mucli; but in winter, I shall be able to teach with both pleasure and profit.
at ^ ^ ^ *
“ When I told R. of his sister^s death, ‘ I expected so,’ said Jamie, ‘any other news that’s curious ?’ So completely does long absence blunt the strongest feelings of affection and friendship. May it never be so with you and me, if we should never meet again. On my part it is impossible, except God, in his wrath, should de- prive me of my present soul, and animate me with some other.”
Wilson next changed his residence for one in the village of Bloomfield, Newjersey, where he again opened a school. But being advised of a more agreeable and lucrative situation, he soli- cited, and received, an engagement from the trustees of Union School, situated in the township of Kingsess or Kingsessing, a short distance from Gray’s Ferry, on the river Schuylkill, and about four miles from Philadelphia.
This removal constituted an important era in the life of Wil- son. His schoolhouse and residence being but a short distance from Bartram’s Botanic Garden, situated on the western bank of the Schuylkill : a sequestered spot, possessing attractions of no or- dinary kind; an acquaintance was soon contracted with that vene- rable naturalist, Mr. William Bartram,* which grew into an un- common friendship, and continued without the least abatement until severed by death. Here it was that Wilson found himself
* The author of “ Travels through North and South Carolina, Georgia, East and West Florida,” &c. This excellent gentleman closed his long and useful life on the 22d July, 1823, in the eighty-fourth year of his age.
XXVlll
LIFE OF WILSON.
translated, if we may so speak, into a new existence. He had long been a lover of the works of Nature, and had derived more happiness from the contemplation of her simple beauties, than from any other source of gratification. But he had hitherto been a mere novice ; he was now about to receive instructions from one, whom the experience of a long life, spent in travel and rural retire- ment, had rendered qualified to teach. Mr. Bartram soon percei- ved the bent of his friend’s mind, and its congeniality to his own; and took every pains to encourage him in a study, which, while it expands the faculties, and purifies the heart, insensibly leads to the contemplation of the glorious Author of nature himself. From his youth Wilson had been an observer of the manners of birds ; and since his arrival in America he had found them objects of uncom- mon interest; but he had not yet viewed them with the eye of a naturalist.
Mr. Bartram possessed some works on natural history, parti- cularly those of Catesby and Edwai’ds. Wilson perused them attentively; and found himself enabled, even with his slender stock of information, to detect errors and absurdities into which these authors had fallen, from a defective mode of studying nature : a mode, which, while it led them to the repositories of dried skins and preparations, and to a reliance on hearsay evidence, subjected them to the imputation of ignorance, which their lives, devoted to the cultivation and promotion of science, certainly would not jus- tify. Wilson’s improvement was now rapid; and the judicious criticisms which he made on the above-mentioned authors, grati- fied his friend and instructor, who redoubled his encouraging assis- tance, in order to further him in a pursuit for which his genius, now beginning to develope itself, was evidently fitted.
LIFE OF WILSON.
XXIX
To Mr. WM. DUNCAN.
“ Gi'ay^s Ferry, October 30, 1802.
Dear Billy,
“ I was favoured with your despatches a few hours ago, through the kindness of Colonel Sullivan, who called on me for that purpose. I have read and re-read, over and over again, their contents; and shall devote the remainder of this even- ing to reply to you, and the i^est of the family, now joint tenants of the woods. By the arrival of John F. here in August last, I received one letter from my brother David, one from Thomas W. and one for Alexander from David Wilson; and last week another packet arrived from Belfast, containing one letter from your father to myself ; and to your mother, brother and brother-in-law, and yourself, one each, all of which I have herewith sent, and hope they may amuse a leisure hour. F. has been wofully disappointed in the expectations he had formed of his uncle. Instead of being able to assist him, he found him in the depth of poverty; and fast sink- ing under a severe fever; probably the arrival of a relation contri- buted to his recovery; he is now able to crawl about. F. has had one child born and buried since his arrival. He weaves with Ro- bertson, but neither likes the situation nor employment. He is a stout, active and ingenious fellow, can turn his hand to almost any thing, and wishes as eagerly to get up to the lakes as ever a saint longed to get to heaven. He gives a most dismal description of the situation of the poor people of Scotland in 1800.
Your letters, so long expected, have at length relieved me from much anxiety. I am very sorry that your accommodations are so few, for my sister’s sake, and the children’s; a fire-place and comfortable house for the winter must, if possible, be got up with- out delay. If masons are not to be had, I would attempt to raise a temporary one myself, I mean a fire-place — but surely they may
H
VOL. IX.
XXX
LIFE OF WILSON.
be had, and lime and stones are also attainable by dint of industry. These observations are made not from any doubts of your doing every thing in your power to make your mother as comfortable as possible, and as your means will enable you, but from a solicitude for a sister’s health, who has sustained more distress than usual, I know the rude appearance of the country, and the want of many usual conveniences, will for some time affect her spirits; let it be your pleasure and study to banish these melancholy moments from her as much as possible. Whatever inconveniences they may for a while experience, it was well they left this devoted city. The fever, that yellow genius of destruction, has sent many poor mor- tals to their long homes since you departed ; and the gentleman who officiates as steward to the Hospital informed me yesterday evening that it rages worse this week than at any former period this season, though the physicians have ceased reporting. Every kind of business has been at a stand these three months, but the business of death.
You intimate your design of coming down next spring. Alex- ander seems to have the same intention. How this will be done, consistent with providing for the family, is not so clear to me. Let me give my counsel on the subject. You will see by your father’s letters that he cannot be expected before next July, or August per- haps, a time when you must of necessity be at home. Your coming down, considering loss of time and expenses, and calculating what you might do on the farm, or at the loom, or at other jobs, would not clear you more than twenty dollars difference, unless you in- tended to remain here five or six months, in which time much might be done by you and Alexander on the place. I am sorry he has been so soon discouraged with farming. Were my strength but equal to my spirit, I would abandon my school for ever for such an employment. Habit will reconcile him to all difficulties. It is more healthy, more independent and agreeable than to be cooped up in a subterraneous dungeon, surrounded by gloomy damps, and
LIFE OF WILSON.
XXXI
breathing an unwholesome air from morning to night, shut out from Nature’s fairest scenes and the pure air of heaven. When necessity demands such a seclusion, it is noble to obey ; but when we are left to choice, who would bury themselves alive ? It is only in winter that I would recommend the loom to both of you. In the month of March next I shall, if well, be able to command two hundred dollars cash once more. Nothing stands between me and this but health, and that I hope will continue at least till then. You may then direct as to the disposal of this money — I shall freely and cheerfully yield the whole to your management. Another quarter will enable me to settle John M.’s account, about the time it will be due ; and, instead of wandering in search of employment five or six hundred miles for a few dollars, I would beg of you both to unite in putting the place and house in as good order as possible. But Alexander can get nothing but wheat and butter for this hag- ging and slashing! Never mind, my dear namesake, put up awhile with the rough fare and rough clothing of the country. Let us only get the place in good order and you shall be no loser by it. Next summer I will assuredly come up rdong with your father and George, if he comes as I expect he will, and every thing shall
flourish,
“ My dear frieud and nephew, I wish you could find a leisure hour in the evening to give the children, particularly Mary, some instruction in reading, and Alexander in writing and accounts. Don’t be discouraged though they make but slow progress in both, but persevere a little every evening. I think you can hardly em- ploy an hour at night to better purpose. And make James lead evei'y convenient opportunity. If I live to come up beside you, I shall take that burden off your shoulders. Be the constant friend and counsellor of your little colony, to assist them in their diffi- culties, encourage them in their despondencies, to make them as happy as circumstances will enable you. A mother, brothers and sisters, in a foreign country, looking up to you as their best friend
XXXll
LIFE OF AVILSON.
and supporter, places you in a dignified point of view. The future remembrance of your kind duty to them now, will, in the hour of your own distress, be as a healing angel of peace to your mind. Do every thing possible to make your house comfortable — fortify the garrison in every point — stop every crevice that may let in that chilling devil, the roaring blustering northwest — heap up fires big enough for an Indian war-feast — keep the flour-barrel full — bake loaves like Hamles Head* — make the loom thunder, and the pot boil; and your snug little cabin re-echo nothing but sounds of do- mestic felicity. I will write you the moment I hear of George. I shall do every thing I have said to you, and never lose sight of the eighteenth of March ; for which purpose I shall keep night school this winter, and retain every farthing but what necessity inquires — depend upon me. These are the outlines of my plan. If health stand it, all will be well; if not, Ave cannot help it. Ruminate on all this, and consult together. If you still think of coming down, I hope you would not hesitate for a moment to make my neigh- bourhood your home. If you come I shall be happy to have you once more beside me. If you resolve to stay on the farm, and put things in order as far as possible, I will think you have done what you thought best. But I forget that my paper is done.
“ Robb, Orr, &c. have escaped as yet from the pestilence; but Robb’s three children have all had the ague. Rabby Rowan has gone to Daviess Locker at last: he died in the West Indies. My brother David talks of coming to America, and my father, poor old man, Avould be happy to be with you, rough and uncomfortable as your situation at present is. As soon as I finish this I shall write to your mother and Alexander. There is a letter for John M., which he is requested to answer by his father-in-law. I hope John will set a firm resolute heart to the undertaking, and plant a poste- rity in that rich, western country, to perpetuate his name for ever.
The name of a rock near Paisley.
LIFE OF WILSON.
xxxm
Thousands here would rejoice to be in his situation. How happy may you live thus united together in a free and plentiful country, after so many years of painful separation, where the bare necessa- ries of life were all that incessant drudgery could procure, and even that but barely. Should even sickness visit you, which God forbid, each of you is surrounded by almost all the friends you have in the world, to nurse you, and pity and console you ; and surely it is not the least sad comfort of a death bed, to be attended by afiectionate relatives. Write me positively by post, two or three times. My best love to my sister, to Isabella, Alexander, John, the two Maries, James, Jeany, little Annie. God Almighty bless you all.
“ Your ever aflfectionate friend,
“ALEX. WILSON.”
To ALEXANDER DUNCAN.
October 31, 1802.
“ Dear Alexander,
“ I have laughed on every perusal of your let- ter. I have now deciphered the whole, except the blots, but 1 fancy they are only by the way of half mourning for your doleful captivi- ty in the back woods, where there is nothing but wheat and butter, eggs and gammon, for hagging down trees. Deplorable ! what must be done ? It is a good place, you say, for a man who has a parcel of weans / * * *
“ But forgive this joking. I thank you, most heartily, for this your^/'5^ letter to me; and I hope you will follow it up with many more. I shall always reply to them with real pleasure. I am glad that your chief objection to the country is want of money. No place is without its inconveniences. Want of the necessaries of life would be a much greater grievance. If you can, in your pre- sent situation, procure sufficient of these, though attended with
I
VOL, IX.
XXXIV
LIFE OF WILSON.
particular disadvantages, I would recommend you to persevere where you are. I would wish you and William to give your joint labours to putting the place in as good order as possible. A farm of such land, in good cultivation, is highly valuable ; it will repay all the labour bestowed upon it a hundred fold; and contains within it all the powers of plenty and independence. These it only re- quires industry to bring forth, and a small stock of money to begin with. The money I doubt not of being able to procure, next sum- mer, for a year or two, on interest, independent of two hundred dol- lars of my own, which I hope to possess on or before the middle of March next. C. S. is very much attached to both your brother and me ; and has the means in his power to assist us — and I know he will. In the mean time, if you and William unite in the under- taking, I promise you, as far as I am concerned, to make it the best plan you could pursue.
“ Accustom yourself, as much as you can, to working out. Don’t despise hagging down trees. It is hard work, no doubt ; but taken moderately, it strengthens the whole sinews; and is a manly and independent employment. An old weaver is a poor, emacia- ted, helpless being, shivering over rotten yarn, and groaning over his empty flour barrel. An old farmer sits in his arm chair before his jolly fire, while his joists are crowded with hung beef and gam- mons, and the bounties of Heaven are pouring into his barns. Even the article of health is a consideration sufficient to make a young man prefer the labours of the field ; for health is certainly the first enjoyment of human life. But perhaps weaving holds out advan- tages that farming does not. Then blend the two together; weave in the depth of winter, and work out the rest of the year. We will have it in our power, before next winter, to have a shop, looms, &c. provided. Consider all I have said, and if I have a wrong view of the subject, form your own plans, and write me without delay,”
LIFE OF WILSON.
XXXV
To Mr. WM. DUNCAN.
Gray^s Ferry, December 23, 1802.
The two Mr. Purdies popped into my school, this after- noon, as unexpected as they were welcome, with news from the promised land. I shall detain them with me all night, on purpose to have an opportunity of writing you a few lines. I am glad you are all well. I hope that this is the last devilish slough of des- pond which you will have to struggle in for some time. I will do all that I said to you, in my last, by the middle of March ; so let care and sorrow be forgotten ; and industry, hope, good-humour and economy, be your bosom friends.
^ ^ ^ ^ ^
“ I succeed tolerably well ; and seem to gain in the esteem of the people about. I am glad of it, because I hope it will put it in my power to clear the road a little before you, and banish despon- dence from the heart of my dearest friend. Be assured that I will ever as cheerfully contribute to your relief in difficulties, as I will rejoice with you in prosperity. But we have nothing to fear. One hundred bushels of wheat, to be sure, is no great marketing ; but has it not been expended in the support of a mother, and infant brothers and sisters, thrown upon your bounty in a foreign country? Robert Burns, when the mice nibbled away his corn, said :
“ ril get a blessin \vi’ the lave,
And never miss ’t.”
“ Where he expected one, you may a thousand. Robin, by his own confession, ploughed up his mice out of ha^ and hame. You have built for your little wanderers a cozie Held, where none dare molest them. There is more true greatness in the affectionate
XXXVl
LIFE OF WILSON.
exertions which you have made for their subsistence and support, than the bloody catalogue of heroes can boast of. Your own heart Avill speak peace and satisfaction to you, to the last moment of your life, for every anxiety you have felt on their account. Colo- nel Sullivan talks with pride and affection of you.
“ I wish Alexander had written me a few lines of the old Ger- man text. I laugh every time I look at his last letter: it’s a perfect antidote against the spleen. Well, Alexander, which is the best fim, handling the shuttle, or the axe? When JohnM. comes down, write me largely. And, dear sister, let me hear from you also. * *
“ I would beg leave to suggest to you the propriety of teach- ing the children to behave with good manners, and dutiful respect, to yourself, each other, and every body.
“You must excuse me for any thing I may have said amiss, or any thing I may have omitted to mention. I am, with sincere attachment, your affectionate friend.”
The foregoing letters place the character of Wilson in the most amiable point of view; and they entffely supersede any re- marks which I might make upon those social affections that distin- guished him through life.
In his new situation Wilson had many enjoyments ; but he had likewise moments of despondency which solitude tended to confirm. He had addicted himself to the writing of verses, and to music ; and, being of a musing turn of mind, had given way to those seductive feelings which the charming scenery of the country, in a sensible heart, never fails to awaken. This was a fatal bias, which all his efforts could not counteractor remove. His acquain- tance perceived the danger of his state ; and one in whose friend- ship he had placed strong reliance, and to whom he had freely un- burthened himself, Mr. Lawson, the engraver, entertained appre-
LIFE OF WILSON.
xxxvu
liensions for the soundness of his intellect.* There was one sub- ject which contributed not a little to increase his mental gloom, and this was the consideration of the life of penury and dependence to which he seemed destined as the teacher of a country school. Mr. Lawson immediately recommended the renouncing of poetry and the flute, and the substituting of the amusement of drawing in their stead, as being most likely to restore the balance of his mind; and as an employment well adapted to one of his recluse habits and inclinations. To this end, sketches of the human figure, and landscapes, were provided for him ; but his attempts were so un- promising that he threw them aside with disgust; and concluded that one at his period of life could never succeed in the art of de- lineation. Mr. Bartram now advised a trial at birds; and being tolerably skilful himself, exhibited his port-folio, which was graced with many specimens from his own hands. The attempt was made, and succeeded beyond the expectation of Wilson or that of his friends. There was a magic in the employment which aroused all the energies of his soul ; he saw, as it were, the dayspring of a new creation; and, from being the humble follower of his instructors, he was soon qualified to lead the way in the charming art of imita- ting’the works of the Great Original.
That Wilson likewise undertook the task of delineating flow- ers, appears from the following note to Mr. Bartram, dated Nov, 20th, 1803 :
* The following incident was communicated to me by Colonel Carr, who had it from Wilson himself. While the latter laboured under great depression of spirits, in order to sooth his mind he one day rambled with his gun. The piece by accident slipped from his hand, and, in making an effort to regain it, the lock was cocked. At that moment had the gun gone off, it is more than probable that he would have lost Ills life, as the muzzle was opposite to his breast. When Wilson reflected on the danger which he had escaped, he shuddered at the idea of the imputation of suicide, which a fatal occurrence, to one in his frame of mind, would have occasioned. There is room to conjecture that many have accidentally met their end, ivhose memories have been sullied by the alleged crime of self murder.
VOL. IX.
K
xxxviii LIFE OF WILSON.
“ I have attempted two of those prints which Miss Nancy* so obligingly, and with so much honour to her own taste, selected for me. I was quite delighted with the anemone, but fear I have made but bungling work of it. Such as they are I send them for your inspection and opinion; neither of them is quite finished. For your kind advice towards my improvement I I'eturn my most grate- ful acknowledgments.
“The duties of my profession will not admit me to apply to this study with the assiduity and perseverance I could Wish. Chief part of what I do is sketched by candle-light; and for this I am obliged to sacrifice the pleasures of social life, and the agreeable moments which I might enjoy in company with you and your amiable friend. I shall finish the other some time this week; and shall be happy if what I have done merit your approbation.”
As Wilson advanced in drawing, he made corresponding pro- gress in the knowledge of Ornithology. He had perused the works of some of the naturalists of Europe, who had written on the sub- ject of the birds of America, and became so disgusted with their caricatured figures, fanciful theories, fables and misrepresentations, that on turning, as he himself observes, from these barren and musty records to the magnificent repository of the woods and fields — the Grand Aviary of Nature^ his delight bordered on ado- ration.f It was not in the inventions of man that the Divine Wisdom could be traced; but it was visible in the volume of crea- tion, wherein are inscribed the Author’s lessons of goodness and love, in the conformation, the habitudes, melody and migrations, of the feathered tribes, that beautiful portion of the work of his hands.
To invite the attention of his fellow-eitizens to a study atten- ded with so much pleasure and improvement, was the natural wish
* Mr. Bartram’s niece, now the consort of Col. Carr, f See preface to vol. v, passim.
LIFE OF WILSON*
XXXIX
of one who had been educated in the School of Wisdom. He humbly thought it would not be rendering an unacceptable service to the Great Master of Creation himself, to derive from objects that every where present themselves in our rural walks, not only amusement and instruction, but the highest incitements to piety and virtue. Moreover, self-gratification, that source of so many of our virtuous actions, had its share in urging him to com- municate his observations to others.* He examined the strength of his mind, and its resources; the undertaking seemed hazardous; he pondered it for a long while before he ventured to mention it to his friends. At length the subject was made known to Mr. Bar- tram, who freely expressed his confidence in the abilities and ac- quirements of Wilson; but, from a knowledge of the situation and circumstances of the latter, hinted his fears that the difficulties which stood in the way of such an enterprise were almost too great to be overcome. Wilson was not easily intimidated ; the very mention of difficulties suggested to his mind the means of sur- mounting them, and the glory which would accrue from such an achievement. He had a ready answer to every objection of his cautious friend ; and evinced such enthusiasm, that Mr, Bartram trembled lest his intemperate zeal should lead him into a situation, from the embarrassments of which he could not well be extricated.
The scheme was unfolded to Mr. Lawson, and met with his cordial approbation. But he observed that there were several con- siderations which should have their weight, in determining in an affair of so much importance. These were frankly stated ; and followed by advice, which did not quadrate with the temperament of Wilson ; who, vexed that his friend would not enter into his feelings, expressed his scorn of the maxims of prudence with which he was assailed, by styling them the offspring of a co/^/, calculating.
Introduction to vol. i.
xl
LIFE OF WILSON.
selfish philosophy. Under date of March 12th, 1804, he thus writes to the last named gentleman :
“ I dare say you begin to think me very ungenerous and un- friendly in not seeing you for so long a time. I will simply state the cause, and I know you will excuse me. Six days in one week I have no more time than just to swallow my meals, and return to my Smictiim Sanctorum, Five days of the following week are oc- cupied in the same routine of pedagoguing matters ; and the other two are sacrificed to that itch for drawing, which I caught from your honourable self. I never was more wishful to spend an after- noon with you. In three weeks I shall have a few days vacancy, and mean to be in town chief part of the time. I am most ear- nestly bent on pursuing my plan of making a collection of all the birds in this part of North America. Now I don’t want you to throw cold water, as Shakspeare says, on this notion, Quixotic as it may appear. I have been so long accustomed to the building of airy castles and brain windmills, that it has become one of my earthly comforts, a sort of a rough bone, that amuses me when sated with the dull drudgery of life.”
To Mr. WM. BARTRAM.
March 29, 1804.
“ Three months have passed away since I had the pleasure of seeing you ; and three dark and heavy months they have been to your family. My heart has shared in your distress, and sincerely sympathizes with you for the loss you have sustained. But Time, the great curer of every grief, will gradually heal those wounds which Misfortune has inflicted ; and many years of tranquillity and happiness are, I sincerely hope, reserved for you.
“I have been prevented from seeing you so long by the hurry of a crowded school, which occupied all my hours of daylight, and
LIFE OF WILSON.
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frequently half the others. The next quarter will leave me time enough ; and, as there is no man living in whose company I have more real satisfaction, I hope you will pardon me if I now and then steal a little of your leisure,
“ I send for your amusement a few attempts at some of our indigenous birds, hoping that your good nature will excuse their deficiencies, while you point them out to me. I intended to be the bearer of them myself, but having so many little accounts to draw up before to-morrow, I am compelled to plead this as my excuse.
I am almost ashamed to send you these drawings ; but I know your generous disposition will induce you to encourage one in whom you perceive a sincere and eager wish to do well. They were chiefly coloured by candlelight.
“ I have now got my collection of native birds considerably en- larged ; and shall endeavour, if possible, to obtain all the smaller ones this summer. Be pleased to mark on the drawings, with a pen- cil, the names of each bird, as, except three or four, I do not know them. I shall be extremely obliged to you for every hint that will assist me in this agreeable amusement.
“I am very anxious to see the performances of your fair pu- pil ; and beg you would assure her from me that any of the birds I have are heartily at her service. Surely Nature is preferable, to copy after, to the works of the best masters, though perhaps more difiicult ; for I declare that the face of an Owl, and the back of a Lark, have put me to a nonplus ; and if Miss Nancy will be so obliging as to try her hand on the last mentioned, I will furnish hei with one in good order ; and will copy her drawing with the great- est pleasure ; having spent almost a week on two different ones, and afterwards destroyed them both, and got nearly in the slough of despond.”
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To Mr. WM. BARTRAM.
Kingsessing^ Marcfh 31, 1804.
“ I take the first few moments I have had since receiving your letter, to thank you for your obliging attention to my little attempts at drawing; and for the very affectionate expressions of esteem with which you honour me. But sorry I am, indeed, that afflic- tions so severe, as those you mention, should fall where so much worth and sensibility reside, while the profligate, the unthinking and unfeeling, so frequently pass through life, strangers to sickness, adversity or suffering. But God visits those with distress whose enjoyments he wishes to render more exquisite. The storms of affliction do not last for ever; and sweet is the serene air, and warm sunshine, after a day of darkness and tempest. Our friend has, indeed, passed away, in the bloom of youth and expectation ; but nothing has happened but what almost every day’s experience teaches us to expect. How many millions of beautiful flowers have flourished and faded under your eye; and how often has the whole profusion of blossoms, the hopes of a whole year, been blasted by an untimely frost. He has gone only a little before us ; we must soon follow ; but while the feelings of nature cannot be repressed, it is our duty to bow with humble resignation to the decisions of the great Father of all, rather receiving with gratitude the blessings he is pleased to bestow, than repining at the loss of those he thinks proper to take from us. But allow me, my dear friend, to with- draw your thoughts from so melancholy a subject, since the best way to avoid the force of any ovei'powering passion, is to turn its direction another way.
^^That lovely season is now approaching, when the garden, woods and fields, will again display their foliage and flowers. Every day we may expect strangers, flocking from the south, to fill our woods with harmony. The pencil of Nature is now at work, and
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outlines, tints, and gradations of lights and shades, that baffle all description, will soon be spread before us by that great master, our most benevolent friend and father. Let us cheerfully participate in the feast he is preparing for all our senses. Let us survey those millions of green strangers, just peeping into day, as so many happy messengers come to proclaim the power and munificence of the Creator. I confess that I was always an enthusiast in my admii a- tion of the rural scenery of Nature; but, since your example and encouragement have set me to attempt to imitate her productions, I see new beauties in every bird, plant or flower, I contemplate; and find my ideas of the incomprehensible first cause still more exalted, the more minutely I examine his works.
“I sometimes smile to think that while others are immersed in deep schemes of speculation and aggrandizement — in building towns, and purchasing plantations, I am entranced in contempla- tion over the plumage of a lark, or gazing, like a despairing lover, on the lineaments of an owl. While others are hoarding up their bags of money, without the power of enjoying it, I am collecting, without injuring my conscience, or wounding my peace of mind, those beautiful specimens of Nature’s works that are for ever pleas- ing, I have had live crows, hawks and owls — opossums, squirrels, snakes, lizards, &c., so that my room has sometimes reminded me of Noah’s ark ; but Noah had a wife in one corner of it, and in this particular our parallel does not altogether tally. I receive every subject of natural history that is brought to me, and though they do not march into my ark, from all quarters, as they did into that of our great ancestor, yet I find means, by the distribution of a few five penny hits, to make them find the way fast enough. A boy, not long ago, brought me a large basket full of crows. I expect his next load will be bull-frogs, if I don’t soon issue orders to the contrary. One of my boys caught a mouse in school, a few days ago, and directly marched up to me with his prisoner. 1 set about drawing it that same evening, and all the while the panlings of its
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little heart showed it to be in the most extreme agonies of fear. 1 liad intended to kill it, in order to fix it in the claws of a stuffed owl, but happening to spill a few drops of water near where it was tied, it lapped it up with such eagerness, and looked in my face with such an eye of supplicating terror, as perfectly overcame me. I immediately untied it, and restored it to life and liberty. The agonies of a prisoner at the stake, while the fire and instruments of torment are preparing, could not be more severe than the suffer- ings of that poor mouse ; and, insignificant as the object was, I felt at that moment the sweet sensations that mercy leaves on the mind when she triumphs over cruelty.
“ My dear friend, you see I take the liberty of an old acquaint- ance with you, in thus trifling with your time. You have already raised me out of the slough of despond, by the hopes of your agree- able conversation, and that of your amiable pupil. Nobody, I am sure, rejoices more in her acquisition of the beautiful accomplish- ment of drawing than myself. I hope she will persevere. I am persuaded that any pains you bestow on her will be rewarded be- yond your expectations. Besides, it will be a new link in that chain of friendship and consanguinity by which you are already united ; though I fear it will be a powerful addition to that attrac- tion which was fully sufficient before, to make even a virtuoso quit his owls and opossums, and think of something else,”
To Mr. WM. BARTRAM.
May 21, 1804.
“ I send you a few more imitations of birds for your opinion, which I value beyond that of any body else, though I am seriously apprehensive that I am troublesome. These are the last I shall draw for some time, as the employment consumes every leisure moment, leaving nothing for friendship, or those rural recreations
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which I so much delight in. Even poetry, whose heavenly enthu- siasm I used to glory in, can hardly ever find me at home, so much has this bewitching amusement engrossed all my senses.
“ Please to send me the names of the birds. I wish to draw a small flower, in order to represent the Humming-bird in the act of feeding : will you be so good as to send me one suitable, and not too large ? The legs and feet of some are unfinished ; they are all miserably imperfect, but your generous candour I know to be be- yond all their defects.”
To Mr. WM. BARTRAM.
June 15, 1804.
I have arranged my business for our little journey ; and, if to-morrow be fair, I shall have the chaise ready for you at any time in the morning, say seven o’clock. Or if you think any other hour more suitable, please to let me know by the bearer, and I shall make it answerable to me.”
June 16, 1804.
“ I believe we had better put off our intended jaunt until some more auspicious day.
Clouds, from Eastern regions driven,
Still obscure the gloomy skies ;
Let us yield, since angry Heaven Frowns upon our enterprise.
Haply some unseen disaster Hung impending o’er our way,
Which our kind almighty master Saw, and sought us thus to stay.
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By and by, when fair Aurora Bids the drowsy fogs to fly,
And the glorious god of Flora Rises in a cloudless sky,
“ Then, in whirling chariot seated.
With my friend I’ll gladly go :
With his converse richly treated —
Happy to be honoured so.”
The inconveniences of his situation, as teacher of a country school, determined Wilson to endeavour after some employment more congenial to his disposition ; and that would enable him to attain to that distinction, as a scholar, which he was anxious to me- rit. He consequently directed his views to the “ Literary Maga- zine,” conducted by C. B. Brown, a monthly publication of some note, as a suitable vehicle for the diffusion of those productions which he hoped would arrest the attention of the public. In this magazine appeared his “ Rural Walk,” and his Solitary Tutor;” but it does not appear that their author received any other reward for his well-meant endeavours than the thanks of the publisher. He was flattered, it is true, by a republication, in the Port Folio, of the “Rural Walk,” with some “commendations of its beauties;^ but I must confess that my perspicacity has not enabled me to de- tect them.
The then editor of the Port Folio, Mr. Dennie, enjoyed the reputation of being a man of taste and judgement; and the major part of his selections should seem to prove that his character, in these respects, was well founded. But with regard to the poem in question, I am totally at a loss to discover by what principles of criticism he judged it, seeing that his opinion of it will by no means accord with mine. The initial stanza, which is not an unfair spe- cimen of the whole, runs thus ;
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The summer sun was riding high,
The woods in deepest verdure drest;
From care and clouds of dust to fly.
Across yon bubbling brook I past/’
The reader of classical poetry may well pardon me if, out of an effusion consisting of forty-four stanzas, I save him the task of reading any more than one.
To Mr. LAWSON.
Gray^s Ferry ^ August 14, 1804.
“ Dear Sir,
“ Enclosed is a copy of the “ Solitary Tutor which I should like to see in the Literary Magazine” of this month, along with the other poem which I sent the editor last week. Wishing, for my future benefit, to call the public attention to these pieces, if, in the editor’s opinion, they should seem worthy of it, I must request the favour of you to converse with him on this subject. You know the numerous pieces I am in possession of, would put it in my power to support tolerably well any recommendation he might bestow on these ; and while they would not, I trust, disgrace the pages of his valuable publication, they might serve as my in- troduction to the literary world, and as a sort of inspiration to some future and more finished attempts. Knowing that you will freely pardon the quantum of vanity that suggested these hints,
“I remain, with real regard, &c.”
To Mr. WM. BARTRAM.
Union School, September 17? 1804. “The second volume of Pinkerton’s Geography has at lenglli made its appearance; and I take the freedom of transmitting it,
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LIFE OF WILSON.
and the atlas, for your amusement. To condemn so extensive a work before a re-perusal, or without taking into consideration all the difficulties that were to be surmounted, is, perhaps, not altoge- ther fair. Yet we almost always form our judgement from the first impressions, and this judgement is very seldom relinquished. You will, therefore, excuse me if I give you some of the impressions made on myself by a cursory perusal.
“ Taking it all in alU it is certainly the best treatise on the subject hitherto published; though had the author extended his plan, and, instead of two, given us four volumes, it would not fre- quently have laid him under the necessity of disappointing his read- er by the bare mention of things that required greater illustration; and of compressing the natural history of whole regions into half a page. Only thirty-four pages allotted to the whole United States! This is brevity with a vengeance. I had indeed expected from the exertions of Dr, Barton as complete an account of the natural his- tory of this part of the world as his means of information, and the limits of the work, would admit. I have been miserably disap- pointed; and you will pardon me when I say that his omitting en- tirely the least reference to your researches in Botany and Tioo- logy, and seeming so solicitous to let us know of his own pro- ductions, bespeak a narrowness of mind, and self consequence, which are truly despicable. Every one acquainted with you both would have confidently trusted that he would rejoice in the oppor- tunity of making the world better acquainted with a man whose works show such a minute and intimate knowledge of these sub- jects; and from whom he had received so much information. But no — not even the slightest allusion, lest posterity might discover that there existed, at this time, in the United States, a naturalist of information superior to his. My dear sir, I am a Scotchman, and don’t love my friends with that cold selfish prudence which I see in some ; and if I offend in thus speaking from the fulness of my heart, I know you will forgive me.
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Pinkerton has, indeed, furnished us with many curious par- ticulars unknown, or, at least, unnoticed, by all former geogra- phers; and also with other items long since exploded as fabulous and ridiculous ; such is his account of the Upas or poisonous tree; and of children having been lost in some of our American swamps, and of being seen many years afterwards, in a wild savage state ! But he very gravely tells his readers that the people of Scotland eat little or no pork from a prejudice which they entertain against swine, the Devil having taken possession of some of them two thou- sand years ago! What an enlightened people these Scots must be; and what a delicate taste they must be possessed of! Yet I have traversed nearly three-fourths of that country, and mixed much with the common people, and never heard of such an objection be- fore. Had the learned author told his readers that, until late years, Scotland, though abounding in rich pastures, even to its mountain tops, was yet but poorly productive in grain, fruit, &c, the usual food of hogs, and that on this account innumerable herds of sheep, horses and cattle were raised, and but very little pork, he would then have stated the simple facts; and not subjected himself to the laughter of every native of that part of Britain.
“ As to the pretended antipathy of the Scots to eels, because they resemble snakes, it is equally ridiculous and improbable; nine- ty-nine out of a hundred of the natives never saw a snake in their lives. The fact is, it is as usual to eat eels in Scotland, where they can be got, as it is in America; and although I have frequently heard such objections made to the eating of eels here, where snakes are so common, yet I do not remember to have heard the compari- son made in Scotland. I have taken notice of these two observa- tions of his, because they are applied generally to the Scots, making them appear a weak squeamish-stomached set of beings, infected with all the prejudices and antipathies of children.
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“ These are some of my objections to this work, which, how- ever, in other respects, does honour to the talents, learning, and industry of the compiler.”
In the month of October, 1804, Wilson, accompanied with two of his friends, set out on a pedestrian journey to visit the far-famed cataract of Niagara, whereof he had heard much, but which he had never had an opportunity of beholding. The picturesque scenery of that beautiful river, the vastness and sublimity of the cataract, as might be expected, filled the bosom of our traveller with the most rapturous emotions. And he ever after declared that no lan- guage Avas sufficiently comprehensive to convey an adequate idea of that wonderful curiosity.
On the return of Wilson, he employed his leisure moments in writing a poetical narrative of the journey. This poem, which contains some interesting description, and pleasing imagery, is en- titled ‘^The Foresters and was gratuitously tendered to the proprietors of the Port Folio, and published in that excellent mis- cellany, in the years 1809 — 10.
This expedition was undertaken rather too late in the season, and, consequently, our travellers were subjected to hardships of which they were not aware. Winter overtook them whilst in the Genessee country, in their return by the way of Albany; and they were compelled to trudge the greater part of the i*oute through snow midleg deep.
To Mr. WM. BARTRAM.
“ Graif s Ferry, December \5th, 1804.
“ Though now snug at home, looking back in recollection on the long, circuitous, journey which I have at length finished, through
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deep snows, and almost uninhabited forests ; over stupendous moun- tains, and down dangerous rivers : passing over, in a course of thir- teen hundred miles, as great a variety of men and modes of living, as the same extent of country can exhibit in any part of the United States — though in this tour I have had every disadvantage of deep roads and rough weather ; hurried marches, and many other in- conveniences to encounter, — yet so far am I from being satisfied with what I have seen, or discouraged by the fatigues which every traveller must submit to, that I feel more eager than ever to com- mence some more extensive expedition ; where scenes and subjects entirely new, and generally unknown, might reward my curiosity ; and where perhaps my humble acquisitions might add something to the stores of knowledge. For all the hazards and privations in- cident to such an undertaking, I feel confident in my own spirit and resolution. With no family to enchain my affections ; no ties but those of friendship ; and the most ardent love of my adopted country — with a constitution which hardens amidst fatigues ; and a disposition sociable and open, which can find itself at home by an Indian fire in the depth of the woods, as well as in the best apart- ment of the civilized ; I have at present a real design of becoming a traveller. But I am miserably deficient in many acquirements absolutely necessary for such a character. Botany, Mineralogy, and Drawing, I most ardently wish to be instructed in, and with these I should fear nothing. Can I yet make any progress in Bo- tany, sufficient to enable me to be useful ? and what would be the most proper way to proceed ? I have many leisure moments that should be devoted to this pursuit, provided I could have hopes of succeeding. Your opinion on this subject will confer an additional obligation on your affectionate friend.”
It is worthy of remark, that when men of uncommon talents conceive any great scheme, they usually overlook those circum- stances of minor importance, which ordinary minds would estimate
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as first deserving attention. Thus Wilson, with an intellect ex- panded with information, and still grasping at further improvement as a means of distinction, would fain become a traveller, even at the very moment when the sum total of his funds amounted to se- venty-five cents !
To Mr. WM. DUNCAN.
Gray’s Feri'y^ December 24, 1804.
You have no doubt looked for this letter long ago, but I wanted to see how matters would finally settle with i‘espect to my school before I wrote; they remain, however, as uncertain as before; and this quarter will do little more than defray my board and fire- wood. Comfortable intelligence truly, methinks I hear you say ; but no matter. * * * *
“ I shall begin where you and I left off our story, viz. at Au- rora, on the shores of the Cayuga.* The evening of that day, Isaac and I lodged at the outlet of Owasco Lake, on the turnpike, seven or eight miles from Cayuga bridge; we waded into the stream, washed our boots and pantaloons, and walked up to a contemptible dram-shop, where, taking possession of one side of the fire, we sat deafened with the noise and hubbub of a parcel of drunken trades- men. At five next morning we started ; it had frozen ; and the road was in many places deep and slippery. I insensibly got into a hard step of walking ; Isaac kept groaning a rod or so behind, though I carried his gun. * ^ Qff again ; and we
stopped at the outlet of Skaneateles Lake ; ate some pork-blubber and bread ; and departed. At about two in the afternoon we pas- sed Onondaga Hollow, and lodged in Manlius square, a village of thirty houses, that have risen like mushrooms in two or three
* Mr. Duncan remained among his friends at Aurora.
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years ; having walked this day thirty-four miles. On the morning of the 22d we started as usual by five — road rough — and Isaac grunting and lagging behind. This day we were joined by another young traveller, returning home to his father s on the Mohauk , he had a pocket bottle, and made frequent and long applications of it to his lips. The road this day bad, and the snow deeper than before. Passing through Oneida castle, I visited every house with- in three hundred yards of the road, and chatted to the copper-co- loured tribe. In the evening we lodged at Lards’ tavern, within eleven miles of Utica, the roads deplorably bad, and Isaac and his disconsolate companion groaning at every step behind me, so that, as drummers do in battle, I was frequently obliged to keep before, and sing some lively ditty, to drown the sound of their ohs ! and ahs ! and O Lords ! The road for fifteen or twenty miles was knee deep of mud. We entered Utica at nine the next morning. This place is three times larger than it was four years ago ; and from Oneida to Utica is almost an entire continued village. This even- ing we lodged on the east side of the Mohawk, fifteen miles below Utica, near which I shot a bird of the size of a Mocking-bird, which proves to be one never yet described by naturalists. I have it here in excellent order. From the town called Herkimer we set ofl through deep mud, and some snow; and about mid-day, between East and West Canada Creeks, I shot three birds of the Jay kind, all of one species, which appears to be undescribed. Mr. Bartram is greatly pleased at the discovery ; and I have saved two of them in tolerable condition. Below the Little Falls the road was exces- sively bad, and Isaac was almost in despair, in spite of all I could do to encourage him. We walked this day twenty-four miles ; and early on the 25th started off again through deep mud, till we came within fifteen miles of Schenectady, when a boat coming down the river, Isaac expressed a wish to get on board. I walked six miles afterwards by myself, till it got so dark that I could hardly rescue myself from the mud holes. The next morning I entered Schenec-
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tady, but Isaac did not arrive, in the boat, till noon. Here we took the stage-coach for Albany, the roads being excessively bad, and ar- rived there in the evening. After spending two days in Albany, we departed in a sloop, and reached Newyork on Saturday, at noon, the first of December. My boots were now reduced to legs and up- per leathers; and my pantaloons in a sad plight. Twelve dol- lars were expended on these two articles. * * * *
“On Friday, the 7th December, I reached Gray’s Ferry, hav- ing walked forty-seven miles that day. I was absent two months on this journey, and I traversed in that time upwards of twelve hundred miles.
“ The evening of my arrival I went to L.’s, whose wife had got twins, a boy and a girl. The boy was called after me: this honour took six dollars more from me. After paying for a cord of wood, I was left with only three quarters of a dollar.”
To Mr. WM. BARTRAM.
Union School, December 24, 1804.
“ I have perused Dr. Barton’s publication,* and return it with many thanks for the agreeable and unexpected treat it has afibrd- ed me. The description of the Falls of Niagara is, in some places, a just, though faint, delineation of that stupendous cataract. But many interesting particulars are omitted; and much of the writer’s reasoning on the improbability of Xhc^xvearmg away of the precipice, and consequent recession of the Falls, seems contradicted by every appearance there; and many other assertions are incorrect. Yet on such a subject every thing, however trifling, seems to attract attention : the reader’s imagination supplying him with scenery in
* The Philadelphia Medical and Physical Journal, vol. 1.
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abundance, even amidst the feebleness and barrenness of the mean- est writer’s description.
“ After this article, I was most agreeably amused with “ Anec- dotes of an American Crow,” written in such a pleasing style of playful humour as I have seldom seen surpassed ; and forming a perfect antidote against the spleen; abounding, at the same time, with observations and reflections not unworthy of a philosopher.
“ The sketch of your father’s life, with the extracts from his letters, I read with much pleasure. They will remain lasting mo- numents of the worth and respectability of the father, as well as of the filial affection of the son.
The description of the Chactaw Bonepickers is a picture so horrible, that I think nothing can exceed it. Many other pieces in this work are new and interesting. It cannot fail to promote the knowledge of natural history, and deserves, on this account, every support and encouragement.”
To Mr. WM. BARTRAM.
“ December 26, 1804.
“I send for your amusement the Literary Magazine” for September, in which you will find a well written, and, except in a few places, a correct description of the great Falls of Niagara. 1 yesterday saw a drawing of them, taken in 1768? and observe that many large rocks, that used formerly to appear in the rapids above the Horseshoe falls, are now swept away; and the form of the curve considerably altered, the consequence of its gradual retrogression. I hope this account will entertain you, as I think it by far the most complete I have yet seen.”
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To Mr. WM. DUNCAN.
lujigsessmg, February 20, 1805.
“ I received yours of January 1, and wrote immediately ; but partly through negligence, and partly through accident, it has not been put into the post office ; and I now sit down to give you some additional particulars.
This winter has been entirely lost to me, as well as to your- self. I shall on the twelfth of next month be scarcely able to col- lect a sufficiency to pay my board, having not more than twenty- seven scholars. Five or six families, who used to send me their children, have been almost in a state of starvation. The rivers Schuylkill and Delaware are still shut, and wagons are passing and repassing at this moment upon the ice.
“ The solitary hours of this winter I have employed in com- pleting the poem which I originally intended for a description of your first journey to Ovid. It is now so altered as to bear little resemblance to the original ; and I have named it the Foresters.” It begins with a description of the Fall or Indian Summer, and re- lates, minutely, our peregrinations and adventures until our arrival at Catharine Landing, occupying ten hundred and thirty lines. The remainder will occupy nearly as much ; and as I shall, if ever I publish it, insert numerous notes, I should be glad, if, while you are on the spot, you would collect every interesting anecdote you can of the country, and of the places which we passed through. Hunting stories, &c., peculiar to the would be acceptable.
I should be extremely glad to spend one afternoon with you for the benefit of your criticisms. I lent the poem to Mr. ^ ^ *
our senator, Avho seems to think it worth reading ; and ^ ^ ^
has expressed many flattering compliments on my labours ; but I
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don’t value either of their opinions so much as I would yours. I have bestowed more pains upon this than I ever did upon any for- mer poem ; and if it contain nothing really good, I shall for ever despair of producing any other that will.”
To Mr. WM. BARTRAM.
March 4, 1805.
“ My dear friend,
^‘This day the heart of every republican, of every good man, within the immense limits of our happy country, will leap with joy.
“ The re-appointment and continuance of our beloved Jeffer- son to superinted our national concerns, is one of those distinguish- ed blessings whose beneficent effects extend to posterity ; and whose value our hearts may feel, but can never express.
“ I congratulate with you, my dear friend, on this happy event. The enlightened philosopher, — the distinguished naturalist^ — the jirst statesman on earthy — the friend, the ornament of science, is the father of our country, the faithful guardian of our liberties. May the precious fruits of such preeminent talents long, long be ours : and the grateful effusions of millions of freemen, at a far distant period, follow their aged and honoured patriot to the peaceful tomb.
I am at present engaged in drawing the two birds which I brought from the Mohawk ; and, if I can finish them to your ap- probation, I intend to transmit them to our excellent president, as the child of an amiable parent presents to its affectionate father some little token of its esteem.”
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To Mr. WM. DUNCAN.
Gray^s Ferry, March 26, 1805.
“ I received your letter of January 1, sometime about the be- ginning of February \ and wrote the same evening very fully ; but have heard nothing in return. Col. S. desires me to tell you to be in no uneasiness, nor part with the place to a disadvantage on his account. His son has been with me since January, I told you in my last of the thinness of my school : it produced me the last quar- ter only twenty-six scholars ; and the sum oi fifteen dollars was all the money I could raise from them at the end of the term. I im- mediately called the trustees together, and, stating the affair to them, proposed giving up the school. Two of them on the spot offered to subscribe between them one hundred dollars a year, ra- ther than permit me to go ; and it was agreed to call a meeting of the people : the result was honourable to me, for forty-eight scholars were instantly subscribed for ; so that the ensuing six months my school will be worth pretty near two hundred dollars. So much for my affairs. »
I have never had a scrap from Scotland since last summer ; but I am much more anxious to hear from you. I hope you have weathered this terrible winter ; and that your heart and your limbs are as sound as ever. I also most devoutly wish that matters could be managed so that we could be together. This farm must either be sold, or let ; it must not for ever be a great gulf between us. I have spent most of my leisure hours this winter in writing the “ Fo- resters,’’ a poem descriptive of our journey. I have brought it up only to my shooting expedition at the head of the Seneca Lake ; and it amounts already to twelve hundred lines. I hope that when you and I meet, it will afford you more pleasui’e than any of my productions has ever done. The two nondescript birds* which I
* One of these birds was the Canada Jay, (Am. Orn. vol. 3, p. 33.) which was known to naturalists.
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killed on the Mohawk, attracted the notice of several naturalists about Philadelphia. On the fourth of March I set to work upon a large sheet of fine drawing paper, and in ten days I finished two faithful drawings of them, far superior to any that I had done be- fore. In the back ground I represented a view of the Falls of Ni- agara, with the woods wrought in as finely as I possibly could do. Mr. Lawson was highly pleased with it, and Mr. Bartram was even more so. I then wrote a letter to that best of men, Mr. Jefferson, which Mr. Bartram enclosed in one of his, (both of which, at least copies of them, I shall show you when we meet,) and sent off the whole, carefully rolled up, by the mail, on the 20th inst. to Monti- cello, in Virginia. The Jay I presented to Mr. Peale, at his re- quest ; and it is now in the museum. I have done but few other drawings, being so intent on the poem. I hope if you find any cu- rious birds, you will attempt to preserve them, or at least their skins ; if a small bird be carefully skinned, it can easily be set up at any time. I still intend to complete my collection of drawings ; but the last will be by far the best. ^
“ The poor of Philadelphia have suffered extremely this win- ter, the river having been frozen up for more than two months ; yet the ice went away without doing any damage, I must again request that you and Alexander would collect the skins of as many birds as you have not seen here, # * * * 'Phe process of
skinning the birds may amuse you ; and your collections will be exceedingly agreeable to me. In the mean time never lose sight of getting rid of the troublesome farm, if it can be done with ad- vantage ; so that we may once more be together ; and write to me frequently.
“ I have now nothing more to say, but to give my affectionate compliments to your mother and all the family ; and to wish you every comfort that the state of society you are in can afford. With the great volume of Nature before you, you can never, while in health, be without amusement. Keep a diary of every thing you
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meet with that is curious. Look out, now and then, for natural curiosities as you traverse your farm; and remember me as you wander through your woody solitudes.’’
From Mr. JEFFERSON.
Monticello, April 7? 1805.
« Sir,
“ I received here yesterday your favour of March 18, with the elegant drawings of the new birds you found on your tour to Niagara, for which I pray you to accept my thanks. The Jay is quite unknown to me. From my observations while in Europe, on the birds and quadrupeds of that quarter, I am of opinion there is not in our continent a single bird or quadruped which is not suf- ficiently unlike all the members of it’s family there to be consider- ed as specifically different ; on this general observation I conclude with confidence that your Jay is not a European bird.
The first bird on the same sheet I judge to be a Muscicapa from it’s bill, as well as from the following circumstance. Two or three days before my arrival here a neighbour killed a bird, xin- known to him, and never before seen here, as far as he could learn; it was brought to me soon after I arrived; but in the dusk of the evening, and so putrid that it could not be approached but with disgust. But I retain a sufficiently exact idea of it’s form and co- lours to be satisfied it is the same with yours. The only difference I find in yours is that the white on the back is not so pure, and that the one I saw had a little of a crest. Your figure, compared with the white bellied Gobe-mouche^ 8 Buff. 342. PL enlum. 566. shews a near relation. Buffon’s is dark on the back.
“ As you are curious in birds, there is one well worthy your attention, to be found, or rather heard, in every part of America, and yet scarcely ever to be seen; it is in all the forests, from spring
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to fall, and never but on the tops of the tallest trees, from which it perpetually serenades us with some of the sweetest notes, and as clear as those of the nightingale, I have followed it for miles without ever, but once, getting a good view of it. It is of the size and make of the Mocking-bird, lightly thrush-coloured on the back, and a greyish-white on the breast and belly. Mr. Randolph, my son-in-law, was in possession of one which had been shot by a neighbour; he pronounces this also a Muscicapa, and I think it much resembling the Moucherolle de la Martmique, 8 Buffon, 374, PI. enlum. 568. As it abounds in all the neighbourhood of Phila- delphia, you may perhaps by patience and perseverance (of which much will be requisite) get a sight, if not a possession of it. I have for twenty years interested the young sportsmen of my neighbour- hood to shoot me one ; but as yet without success. Accept my sa- lutations and assurances of respect.
»TH. JEFFERSON.’’
To Mr. WM. BARTRAM.
April \ %th, 1805,
‘^By Mr. Jefferson’s condescending and very intelligent letter to me, which I enclose for your perusal, it appears that our Jay is an entirely new, or rather undescribed bird, which met me on the banks of the Mohawk, to do me the honour of ushering him to the world. This duty I have conscientiously discharged, by introducing him to two naturalists : the one endeared to me, and every lover of science, by the benevolence of his heart; and the other ordained by Heaven to move in a distinguished orbit — an honour to the hu- man race — the patron of science^ and best hope of republicans ! I say, that no bird, since Noah’s days, could boast of such distin- guished honour.
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« Mr. Jeflfersoii speaks of a very strange bird ; please let me know what it is ; I shall be on the look out, and he must be a sly fellow if he escape me. I shall watch his motions, and the sound of his serenade^ pretty closely, to be able to transmit to our worthy president a faithful sketch of a bird, which he has been so long cu- rious to possess.”
To Mr. WM. DUNCAN.
Gray^s Ferry ^ May 1805.
“ I am glad to understand that the plantation is increasing so fast in value, but more so that it is not either sold or otherwise dis- posed of at the low rate at which we would have once thrown it away ; yet it is the perpetual cause of separating us, which I am very sorry for. I am living a mere hermit, not spending one far- thing, to see if I possibly can reimburse who I can see is not so courteous and affable as formerly. I hope to be able to pay him one hundred dollars, with interest, next October, and the I’e- mainder in the spring ; we shall then be clear of the world ; and I don^t care how many privations I suffer to effect that. I associate with nobody ; spend my leisure hours in drawing, wandering through the woods, or playing upon the violin.
“ I informed you in my last of sending Mr. Jefferson drawings of the Falls, and some birds, which I found on the Mohawk, and which it seems have never been taken notice of by any naturalist. He returned me a very kind and agreeable letter, from Monticello, expressing many obligations for the drawings, which he was highly pleased with; and describing to me a bird, which he is very desir- ous of possessing, having interested the young sportsmen of his neighbourhood, he says, these twenty years, to shoot him one, with- out success. It is of the size and make of the Mocking-bird, lightly thrush-coloured on the back, and greyish-white on the breast; is
LIFE OF WILSON.
nevei’ heard but from the tops of the tallest trees, whence it contin- ually serenades us with some of the sweetest notes, and as clear as those of the nightingale. Mr. Bartram can give no account of this bird, except it be the Wood Robin, which I don’t think it is ; for Mr. Jefferson says it is scarcely ever to be seen;^ and “ I have fol- lowed it for miles without ever, but once, getting a good view of it.”* I have been on the look-out ever since, but in vain. If you can hear of such a bird, let me know. I wish you also to look for the new bird which I discovered. It is of the size of the Blue Jay; and is of that genus — of a dull lead colour on the back — the fore- head white — black on the back of the neck — the breast and belly a dirty, or brownish white, with a white ring round its neck — its legs and bill exactly the Jay’s. Pray inquire respecting it, and any other new bird. If they could be conveyed to me, drawings of them, presented to the same dignified character, might open the road to a better acquaintance, and something better might follow. Alexander and you will, I hope, be on the look-out with the gun, and kill every bird that comes in your way; and keep written de- scriptions, or the skins, if possible, of those you don’t know. Were I able, I would undertake another journey up to you through the woods, while the birds are abundant; and nothing would give me so much pleasure as to make another extensive tour with you for this purpose; for I am persuaded that there are many species yet undescribed ; and Mr. Jefferson is anxious to replenish his museum with the rare productions of his country.”
* After many inquiries, and an unwearied research, it turned out that this invisible mu- sician was no other than the Wood Robin, a bird which, if sought for in those places wliich it affects, may be seen every hour of the day. Its favourite haunts Wilson has beautifully described in its history ; but so far from being found always “ on the tops of the tallest trees,” it is seldom seen in such places, but seems to prefer the horizontal branches, at no great height, especially when piping its exquisitely melodious song. One of its names, the Ground Robin, is derived from the circumstance of its being frequently seen upon the ground. Its song consists of several distinct parts, at the conclusion of each of which it commonly flies a few feet, and rests just long enough to continue the strain. A person unacquainted with these particulars, would suppose that he heard several birds, in various quarters, responding to each other, and would find it hard to believe that the whole tvas the performance of one.
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To Mr. WM. DUNCAN.
Gray’s Ferry, May 31, 1805.
“ Yesterday evening I was finishing a Hanging-bird in my si- lent mansion, musing upon a certain aflFair, when Mr. L. popped his head in at the window, with a letter. I instantly laid down my pencil, and enjoyed a social C7'ack with my distant friend ; and was heartily and truly pleased with the upshot. In every thing re- lative to this land business, you have acted amidst difficulties and discouragements with prudence and discretion. In refusing to en- gage with * ^ ^ you acted well ; and I doubt not but you will
be equally circumspect in making a transfer of the property, so that the Yankee will not be able, even if he were willing, to take you in. More than half of the roguery of one half of mankind is owing to the simplicity of the other half. You have my hearty concurrence in the whole affair, for I impatiently wish you beside me, not only to enjoy your society and friendship, but to open to you the book of knowledge, and enable you, in your turn, to teach it to others. In plain language, I wish you to prosecute your studies with me a few months ; a school will soon be found, and you can then pursue them without expense, and I trust with pleasure. The business has indeed its cares, but affords leisure for many amusements ; and is decent and reputable when properly discharged. I am living in solitude; spending nothing; diligently attending to the duties of the day; and filling up every leisure moment with drawing and music. I have bought no clothes, nor shall I, this summer; there- fore if you settle the matter with ^ ^ ^ as you have agreed, we can discharge our obligations to ^ ^ * *, and be in a state to go on with your studies for at least six months. Mr. * * * * was hei’e yester- day, and expressed many acknowledgments for the rapid progress is making, for indeed I have exerted myself to pay my obli- gations to the father by my attentions to the son.
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“ I wrote you respecting the letter I had from the President, I have never been able to get a sight of the bird he mentions. I hope you will not neglect to bring your gun with you, and look out as you come along,
“ I have done no more to the Foresters.''’ The journey is brought up to my expedition upon the Seneca Lake, I am much in want of notes of the first settlement, and present state, of the different places that we passed, as we went up the Susquehannah ; every thing of this kind, with hunting anecdotes, &c. I wish you to collect in your way down. The remainder of the poem will, I hope, be superior to what is already written, the scenery and inci- dents being more interesting ; and will extend to at least another fifteen hundred lines, which will make in all about three thousand.* The notes wull swell it to a tolerable size.
“ The “ Rural JFalk,” which I published last summer in the Literary Magazine, has been lately republished in the Port Folio,*]* with many commendations on its beauties. The Solitary Tutor” met with much approbation. But I reserve my best efforts for the remainder of the “ Foresters/^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^
“I have not mentioned any thing of the sale of the land, nor shall I until the business is finally concluded. I shall expect to hear from you at least twice yet before you arrive ; and I hope you will make no unnecessary delay in returning. As you cut a pretty ragged appearance at present, and want something to laugh at, suppose you set your muse to work upon your tatterdemalian dis- habille. The former neatness of your garb, contrasted with its present squalidness, would make a capital subject for a song, not forgetting the causes. But you are in the dress of the people you live among; : vou are therefore in character. B. had a hat on when
O y
* This poem, as published in the Port Folio, contains two thousand two hundred and eighteen lines. It is illustrated with four plates, two of which were engraved by George Cooke of London.
f For April 27, 1805.
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I was up in your quarter, the rim of which had been eaten oflF, close to his head, by the rats, or, perhaps, cut off to make soles to his shoes; yet it was so common as to escape observation. I saw ano- ther fellow, too, at the tavern, who had pieces cut out of his hehindy like a swallow’s tail.” * ^ ^
The spring of the year 1805 gave to the enraptured view of our Naturalist his interesting feathered acquaintance. He listened to their artless songs; he noted their habitudes; he sketched their portraits. And, after having passed a few months varied with this charming occupation, he again writes to the respected inhabitant of the Botanic Garden :
Union School, July 2, 1805.
“ I dare say you will smile at my presumption, when I tell you that I have seriously begun to make a collection of drawings of the birds to be found in Pennsylvania, or that occasionally pass through it: twenty-eight, as a beginning, I send for your opinion. They are, I hope, inferior to what I shall produce, though as close copies of the originals as I could make. One or two of these I cannot find either in your nomenclature, or among the seven volumes of Edwards. I have never been able to find the bird Mr. Jefferson speaks of, and begin to think that it must be the Wood Robin, though it seems strange that he should represent it as so hard to be seen. Any hint for promoting my plan, or ena- bling me to execute better, I will receive from you with much pleasure. I have resigned every other amusement, except reading and fiddling, for this design, which I shall not give up without ma- king a fair trial.
“ Criticise these, my dear friend, without fear of offending me — this will instruct, but not discourage me. — For there is not among all our naturalists one who knows so well what they are, and how they ought to be represented. In the mean time accept
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of my best wishes for your happiness — wishes as sincere as ever one human being breathed for another. To your advice and en- couraging encomiums I am indebted for these few specimens, and for all that will follow. They may yet tell posterity that I was honoured with your friendships and that to your inspiration they owe their existence^
The plates illustrative of the natural history of Edwards were etched by the author himself. Wilson had examined them very attentively, and felt assured that, with a little instruction in the art of etching, he could produce more accurate delineations; and would be enabled, by his superior knowledge of colouring, to finish the figures for his contemplated work in a style not inferior to his spirited and beautiful drawings from nature.
Mr. Lawson was of course consulted on this occasion, and cheerfully contributed his advice and assistance in the novel and difficult enterprise. Wilson procured the copper; and, the former having laid the varnish, and furnished the necessary tools, he ea- gerly commenced the important operation, on the successful ter- mination of which his happiness seemed to depend.
Let the reader pause and reflect on the extravagance of that enthusiasm, which could lead a person to imagine, that, without any knowledge of an art derived from experience, he could at once produce that effect, which is the result only of years of trial and diligence.
The next day after Wilson had parted from his preceptor, the latter, to use his own words, was surprised to behold him boun- cing into his room, crying out — “/ have finished my plate! let us bite it in with the aquafortis at otice, for I tnust have a proof before I leave town Lawson burst into laughter at the ludicrous ap-
* For the information of those of our readers, who are unacquainted with the process ot etching, we subjoin the following explanatory note : —
Upon the polished copper-plate a coat of varnish, of a particular composition, is tliinly spread.
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LIFE OF WILSON.
pearance of his friend, animated with impetuous zeal ; and to hu- mour him granted his request. A proof was taken, but fell far short of Wilson’s expectations, or of his ideas of correctness. How- ever, he lost no lime in conferring with Mr. Bartram, to whom lie wrote as follows :
“ Nov. 29, 1805.
“I have been amusing myself this some time in attempting to etch ; and now send you a proof-sheet of my first performance in this way. Be so good as communicate to me your own correc- tions, and those of your young friend and pupil. I will receive them as a very kind and particular favour. The drawings which I also send, that you may compare them together, were done from birds in full plumage, and in the best order. My next attempt in etching will perhaps be better, every thing being new to me in this. I will send you the first impression I receive after I finish the plate.”
In a short time another plate was prepared and completed with the despatch of the former. In fulfilment of his promise to his friend, he transmits a proof, accompanied with the following note :
Mr. Wilson’s affectionate compliments to Mr. Bartram ; and sends for his amusement and correction another proof of his Birds of the United States. The colouring being chiefly done last night, must soften criticism a little. Will be thankful for my friend’s ad- vice and correction.
“ Mr. Wilson wishes his beloved friend a happy new-year, and every blessing.”
Saturday^ January Atthy 1806.
The design is then traced, and cut through to the copper, with an instrument termed a point. A bank of wax is now raised around the plate, and aquafortis poured into the enclosure, which acid eats into the copper only where the point had past. The length of time requisite for the successful action of tlie aquafortis, must be determined by the judgement of the operator.
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These essays in etching,* though creditable to Wilson’s inge- nuity and perseverance, yet by no means afforded satisfaction. He became now convinced that the point alone was not sufficient to produce the intended effect ; and that nothing short of the accura- cy of the graver would in any wise correspond to his ideas of ex- cellence. But in the art of engraving he had never been instructed ; and he could not command means sufficient to cover the expense of the plates even of a single volume, on the magnificent plan which his comprehensive mind had delineated. A proposition was now made to Mr. Lawson to engage in the work on a joint concern. But there were several objections which this gentleman urged, suf- ficiently weighty, in his opinion, to warrant his non-acceptance of the offer. Wilson, finding his schemes thus baffled, declared, with solemn emphasis, his resolution of proceeding alone in the publica- tion, if it should even cost him his life. I shall at least leaved continued he, “ a small beacon to point out where I perishecU^
To Mr. WM. BARTRAM.
Jan. 27, 1806.
“ Being in town on Saturday, I took the opportunity of calling on Mr. , who, in 1804, went down the Ohio, with one compa-
nion, in a small bateau. They sometimes proceeded seventy miles in twenty-four hours, going often night and day. They had an awning ; and generally slept on board the boat, without ever catch- ing cold, or any inconvenience by moschetoes, except when in the neighbourhood of swamps. He describes the country as exceed- ingly beautiful. The object of their journey being trade, they had
^ The two first plates of the Ornithology are those which the author etched hinfiself. The writer of this sketch has in his possession a proof of the first one, which he preserves as a relic of no small value. It is inscribed with the author’s name.
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life of avilson.
neither gun nor fishing-taekle ; and paid little or no attention to natural objects. He says the navigation of a bateau is perfectly easy, and attended with no hazard whatever. One solitary adven- turer passed them in a small boat, going from Wheeling to New-
Orleans.
“ If, my dear friend, we should be so happy as to go together, what would you think of laying our design before Mr. Jefferson, with a view to procure his advice, and recommendation to influen- tial characters in the route ? Could we procure his approbation and patronage, they would secure our success. Perhaps he might sug- gest some improvements in our plan. Had we a good companion, intimately acquainted with mineralogy, who would submit to our economical plan of proceeding, it would certainly enhance the value of the expedition. However, this I have no hopes of.
“I see, by the newspapers, that Mr. Jefferson designs to em- ploy persons to explore the shores of the Mississippi the. ensuing summer: surely our exertions would promote his wishes. I write these particulars that you may give them the consideration they deserve; and will call upon you to deliberate furthei on the affair.
To the Same.
February 3, 1806.
“ The enclosed sketch of a letter is submitted for your opin- ion, and, if approved, I must request of you the favour to enclose it in one of your own to Mr. Jefferson. You see I am serious in my design of traversing our southern wildernesses. Disappointed in your company, I have no hopes in another’s that would add any value to the Ohio tour. I am therefore driven to this expedient, and I hope it will succeed. Please to let me hear your sentiments on this affair to-morrow morning ; and oblige yours, &c.”
LIFE OF WILSON.
To the Same.
Fehrtiary 5, 1806,
“ I am infinitely obliged to you, my dear friend, for your fa- vourable opinion of me, transmitted to the president. Should an engagement be the consequence, I will mei it the character which you have given of me, or perish in the endeavour to deserve it. Accept my assurances of perpetual affection and esteem.
“ The letters go off* to-morrow,”
It will be perceived, by the foregoing letters, that the Presi- dent of the United States had it in contemplation to despatch men of science, for the purpose of exploring the country of the Missis- sippi. Wilson now eonceived that a favourable opportunity would be afforded him of gratifying a desire, which he had long indulged, of visiting those regions, which he was convinced were rich in the various objects of science; and, particularly, where subjects, new and interesting, might be collected for his embryo work on the Ornithology of our country. He expressed his wishes to Mr. Bar- tram, who approved of them; and the latter cheerfully wrote to his correspondent, Mr. Jefferson, stating Wilson’s character and ac- quirements; and recommending him as one highly qualified to be employed in that important national enterprise. This introductory letter, endited in the most respectful terms, was accompanied with an application from Wilson himself, which, as a faithful biographer of my friend, I here think proper to insert entire : —
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LIFE OF WILSON.
To His Excellency Thomas Jefferson,
President of the United States.
“ Sir,
“Having been engaged, these several years, in collecting materials and furnishing drawings from nature, with the design of publishing a new Ornithology of the United States of America, so deficient in the works of Catesby, Edwards, and other Europeans, I have ti aversed the greater part of our northern and eastern dis- tricts ; and have collected many birds undescribed by these natu- ralists. Upwards of one hundred drawings are completed ; and two plates in folio already engraved. But as many beautiful tribes fi equent the Ohio, and the extensive country through which it pas- ses, that probably never visit the Atlantic states ; and as faithful representations of these can be taken only from living nature, or from birds newly killed ; I had planned an expedition down that river, from Pittsburg to the Mississippi, thence to Neworleans, and to continue my researches by land in return to Philadelphia. I had engaged as a companion and assistant Mr. William Bartram of this place, whose knowledge of Botany, as well as Zoology, would have enabled me to make the best of the voyage, and to collect many new specimens in both those departments. Sketches of these Avere to have been taken on the spot ; and the subjects put in a state of preservation to finish our drawings from, as time would permit. Wg intended to set out from Pittsburg about the begin- ning of May ; and expected to reach Neworleans in September.
“ But my venerable friend, Mr. Bartram, taking into more serious consideration his advanced age, being near seventy, and the Aveakness of his eye-sight ; and apprehensive of his inability to encounter the fatigues and deprivations unavoidable in so exten- sive a tour ; having, to my extreme regret, and the real loss of science, been induced to decline the journey ; I had reluctantly abandoned the enterprise, and all hopes of accomplishing my pur-
LIFE OF WILSON.
pose ; till hearing that your excellency had it in contemplation to send travellers this ensuing summer up the Red River, the Arkan- saw, and other tributary streams of the Mississippi ; and believing that my sei'vices might be of advantage to some of these parties, in promoting your excellency’s design ; while the best opportuni- ties would be afforded me of procuring subjects for the work which I have so much at heart ; under these impressions I beg leave to offer myself for any of these expeditions ; and can be ready at a short notice to attend your excellency’s orders.
“ Accustomed to the hardships of travelling, without a family, and an enthusiast in the pursuit of Natural History, I will devote my whole powers to merit your excellency’s approbation ; and ar- dently wish for an opportunity of testifying the sincerity of my professions, and the deep veneration with which I have the honour to be,
“ Sir,
“ Your obedient servant,
^^ALEX. WILSON.”^
JCmgsesSi Fcb> 6, 1806.
Mr. Jefferson had in his port-folio decisive proofs of Wilson’s talents as an ornithologist, the latter having some time before, as the reader will have observed, transmitted to his excellency some elegant drawings of birds, accompanied with descriptions. Yet with these evidences before him, backed with the recommendation of a discerning and experienced naturalist, Mr. Jefferson was either so scandalized at the informal application of our ornithologist, or so occupied in the great concerns of his exalted station, that no an- swer was returned to the overture ; and the cause of the, supposed, contemptuous neglect, neither Wilson nor Bartram could ever as- certain.
* Wilson was particularly anxious to accompany Pike, who commenced his journey from the cantonment on the Missouri, for the sources of the Arkansaw, 8t.c. on the IStli July, 1806.
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Whatever might have been the views of the President, who un- questionably bore an effective part in scheming and encouraging the expeditions commanded by Lewis and Clark, and Pike, there can be but one opinion on the insufficiency of that plan of discovei y which does not embrace the co-operation of men of letters and sci- ence : those whose knowledge will teach them to select what is va- luable, and whose learning will enable them to digest it for the ad- vantage of others. W^e would not draw an invidious compaiison the expeditions above-mentioned, and those under the command of Major Long; but we will rest in the hope that, as the government iioxv appears to be sensible of the beneficial effects re- sulting from a liberal and enlightened policy, it will continue to foster that spirit of enterprise which distinguishes some of our citi- zens, and which, if properly directed, will redound to the honour and glory of our country.
To MR. WILLIAM DUNCAN.
Gray^s Ferry ^ Feb. 26, 1806.
Notwithstanding the great esteem I have for your judge- ment, in preference, many times, to my own, yet I believe we are both wrong in the proposed affair of Saturday week. I have not the smallest ambition of being considered an orator ; and would it not, by some, be construed into vanity, or something worse, for me to go all the way from this place to deliver a political lecture at Milestown ? Politics has begot me so many enemies, both in the old and new world, and has done me so little good, that I begin to think the less you and I harangue on that subject the better. I do not say this from any doubt I have of being able to say something on the subject, but much question the policy and prudence of it. If you and I attend punctually to the duties of our profession, and make our business our pleasure ; and the improvement of our pu-
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pils, with their good government, our chief aim ; honour, and res- pectability, and success, will assuredly attend us, even if we never open our lips on politics.
“These have been some of my reflections since we parted. I hope you will weigh them in your own mind, and acquiesce in my resolution of not interfering in the debate on Saturday, as we talked of. At the same time I am really pleased to see the improvement the practice has produced in you ; and would by no means wish to dissuade you from amusing and exercising your mind in this man- ner; because I know that your moderation in sentiment and con- duct will always preserve you from ill will on any of these scores. Btit as it could add nothing to my fame, and as they have all heard me, often enough, on different subjects, about Milestown ; and as it would raise no new friends to you, but might open old sores in some of your present friends, I hope you will agree with me that it will be prudent to decline the affair. And as you have never heard me deliver any of my own compositions in this way, I will commit a speech to memory which I delivered at Milestown, in tlie winter of 1800, and pronounce it to you when we ai’e by ourselves in the woods, where we can offend nobody,
“ I have heard nothing from Washington yet ; and I begin to think that either Mr. Jefferson expects a brush with the Spaniards, or has not received our letters ; otherwise he would never act so unpolitely to one for whom he has so much esteem as for Mr. Bar- tram. JVo hurry of business could excuse it. But if affairs are not likely to be settled with Spain, very probably the design of sending parties through Louisiana will be suspended. Indeed I begin to think that if I should not be engaged by Mr. Jefferson, a journey by myself, and at my own expense, at a time, too, when we are just getting our heads above water, as one may say, would not be alto- gether good policy. Perhaps in another year we might be able, without so much injury, to make a tour together, through part of the south-west countries, which would double all the pleasures of
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LIFE OF WILSON.
the journey to me. I will proceed in the affair as you may think best, notwithstanding my eager wishes, and the disagreeableness of my present situation. I write this letter in the schoolhouse — past ten at night — L."s folks all gone to roost — the Flying squirrels rat- tling in the loft above me, and the cats squalling in the cellar below. Wishing you a continuation of that success in teaching, which has already done you so much credit, I bid you for the present good- night."'
We now approach that era of Wilson's life, in which we be- hold him emerging from the vale of obscurity, and attaining that enviable distinction, in the republic of science and letters^ which it is the lot of but few to enjoy.
Mr. Samuel F. Bradford, bookseller, of Philadelphia, being about to publish an improved edition of Rees's New Cyclopaedia, Wilson was introduced to him as one qualified to superintend the work ; and was engaged, at a liberal salary, as assistant editor. The articles of agreement are dated the 20th of April, 1806.
To Mr. WM. BARTRAM.
Philadelphia^ April 22d, 1806.
“ My dear friend,
“I take the liberty of informing you that having been importuned to engage as assistant editor of that com- prehensive and voluminous work, Rees's New Cyclopaedia, now publishing here, and a generous salary offered me, I have now ac- cepted of the same, and will commence my new avocation on Mon- day next.
“ This engagement will, I hope, enable me, in more ways than one, to proceed in my intended Ornithology, to which all my lei- sure moments will be devoted. In the mean time I anticipate,
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with diffidence, the laborious, and very responsible situation I am soon to be placed in, requiring a much more general fund of scien- tific knowledge, and stronger powers of mind, than I am possessed of ; but all these objections have been overruled, and I am engaged, in conjunction with Mr. S. F. Bradford, to conduct the publication. In this pursuit I will often solicit your advice, and be happy to communicate your observations to posterity. Shut up from the sweet scenes of rural nature, so dear to my soul, conceive to your- self the pleasures I shall enjoy in sometimes paying a visit to your charming Retreat, and you cannot doubt of frequently seeing your very sincere friend.”
Not long after his engagement he unfolded his mind to Mr. Bradford on the subject of his projected Ornithology ; and exhibit- ed such evidence of his talents for a work of that nature, that the latter promptly agreed to become the publisher of it, and to fur- nish the requisite funds ; and now for the first time Wilson found those obstructions removed which had opposed his favourite enter- prise.
To Mr. WILSON at the Falls of Niagara.
Philadelphia, July %th, 1806.
“ Dear Sir,
“ This will be handed to you by Mr. Michaux, a gentleman of an amiable character, and a distinguished naturalist, who is pursuing his botanical researches through North America, and intends visiting the Cataract of Niagara. The kindness I re- ceived from your family in 1804 makes me desirous that my friend, Mr. Michaux, should reside with you during his stay at Niagara ; and any attention paid to him will be considered as done to myself, and suitable acknowledgments made in person by me on my arri- val at Niagara, which I expect will be early next spring.
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“You will be so good as give Mr. Michaux information re- specting the late rupture of the rock at the falls, of the burning spring above, and point out to him the place of descent to the ra- pids below, with any other information respecting the wonderful scenery around you.
In the short stay I made, and the unfavourable weather I ex- perienced, I was prevented from finishing my intended sketch equal to my wishes ; but I design to spend several weeks with you, and not only take correct drawings, but particular descriptions of every thing relating to that stupendous Cataract, and to publish a more complete and satisfactory account, and a better representation, of it, than has been yet done in the United States.*
“ I had a rough journey home through the Genessee country, which was covei'ed with snow to the depth of fifteen inches, and continued so all the way to Albany. If you know of any gentle- men in your neighbourhood acquainted with botany, be so good as introduce Mr. Michaux to them.’^
To Mr. WM. DUNCAN.
Philadelphia, April 8, 1807-
“ Enclosed is a proof-sheet of our Prospectus ; as soon as the impressions are thrown off on fine paper, I will transmit one for Mr. L. This afternoon Mr. Lawson is to have one of the plates completely finished ; and I am going to set the copper-plate prin- ter at work to print each bird in its natural colours, which will be a great advantage in colouring, as the black ink Avill not then stain
^ Wilson’s subsequent engagements prevented his return to the Falls, in conformity with his wishes ; but his sketches were completed by an artist, engraved by George Cooke of London, and illustrate his poem of the “ Foresters,” which was published in the Port Folio. These well-engraved views, which are two in number, convey a good idea of the famous Cata- ract ; the “ Great Pitch,” in particular, is admirably represented.
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the fine tints. We mean to bind in the Prospectus at the end of the next half volume, for which purpose twenty-five hundred copies are to be thrown off ; and an agent will be appointed in every town in the Union. The Prospectus will also be printed in all the news- papers ; and every thing done to promote the undertaking.
“ I hope you have made a beginning, and have already a col- lection of heads, bill and claws, delineated. If this work should «:o on, it will be a five years affair ; and may open the way to some- thing more extensive ; for which reason I am anxious to have you with me to share the harvest.
“ I started this morning, by peep of day, with my gun, for the purpose of shooting a Nuthatch. After jumping a hundred fences, and getting over the ancles in mud, (for I had put on my shoes for lightness,) I found myself almost at the junction of the Schuylkill and Delaware, without success, there being hardly half an acre of woodland in the whole neck ; and the Nuthatch generally frequents large-timbered woods. I returned home at eight o’clock, after get- ting completely wet, and in a profuse perspiration, which, contrary to the maxims of the doctors, has done me a great deal of good; and I intend to repeat the dose ; except that I shall leave out the ingredient of the wet feet, if otherwise convenient. Were I to pre- scribe such a remedy to Lawson, he would be ready to think me mad. Moderate, nay even pretty severe exercise, is the best medi- cine in the world for sedentary people, and ought not to be ne- glected on any account.”
To Mr. WM. BARTRAM.
Philadelphia, April 29, 1807.
“ My dear sir,
“ The receipt of yours of the 11th inst. in which you approve of my intended publication of American Ornithology,
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gave me much satisfaction ; and your promise of befriending me in the arduous attempt commands my unfeigned gratitude. From the opportunities I have lately had of examining into the works of Americans who have treated of this part of our natural history, I am satisfied that none of them have bestowed such minute attention on the subject as you yourself have done. Indeed they have done little more than copied your nomenclature and observations, and referred to your authority. To have you, therefore, to consult with in the coui’se of this great publication I consider a most happy and even auspicious circumstance ; and I hope you will on all oc- casions be a rigid censor and kind monitor whenever you find me deviating from the beauties of nature, or the truth of description.
“ The more I read and reflect upon the subject, the more dis- satisfied I am with the specific names which have been used by al- most every writer. A name should, if possible, be expressive of some peculiarity in colour, conformation, or habit ; if it will equal- ly ripply to two difierent species, it is certainly an improper one. Is migratoriiis an epithet peculiarly applicable to the Robin? Is it not equally so to almost every species of Turdus we have ? Euro- pea has been applied by Pennant to our large Sitta or Nuthatch, which is certainly a different species from the European, the latter being destitute of the black head, neck and shoulders of ours. La- tham calls it Carolinensisy but it is as much an inhabitant of Penn- sylvania and Newyoik as Carolina. The small red-bellied Sitta is called Canadensis by Latham, a name equally objectionable with the other. Turdus minor seems also improper; in short I consider this part of the business as peculiarly perplexing ; and I beg to have your opinion on the matter, particularly with respect to the birds I have mentioned, whether I shall hazard a new nomencla- ture, or, by copying, sanction what I do not approve of.
“I hope you are in good health, enjoying in your little Para- dise the advances of spring, shedding leaves, buds and blossoms, around her ; and bringing in her train choirs of the sweetest song-
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sters that earth can boast of; while every zephyr that plays around you breathes fragrance. Ah ! how different my situation in this delightful season, immured among musty books, and compelled to forego the harmony of the woods for the everlasting din of the city; the very face of the blessed heavens involved in soot, and inter- rupted by walls and chimney tops. But if I don’t launch out into the woods and fields oftener than I have done these twelve months, may I be transformed into a street musician.” (The remainder of the MS. defaced.)
All things being happily arranged, Wilson applied himself to his varied and extensive duties with a diligence which scarcely ad- mitted repose ; until finding his health much impaired thereby, he was induced to seek the benefits of relaxation in a pedestrian jour- ney through a part of Pennsylvania ; which afforded him a favour- able opportunity of procuring specimens of birds ; and some addi- tional information relating to them of which he was very desirous to be possessed. This excursion was made in the month of August, 1807; and on his return he engaged in his avocations with renew- ed ardour ; devoting every moment, which could be spared from his editorial duties, to his great work.
At length in the month of September, 1808, the first volume of the “ American Ornithology” made its appearance. From the date of the arrangement with the publisher, a prospectus had been issued, wherein the nature and intended execution of the w'ork were specified ; but yet no one appeared to entertain an adequate idea of the elegant treat which was about to be afforded to the lovers of the arts, and of useful literature. And when the volume was presented to the public, their delight was only equalled by their astonishment, that our country, as yet in its infancy, should produce an original work in science that could vie, in its essentials, with the proudest productions, of a similar nature, of the European world.
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To MR. WILLIAM BARTRAM.
Philadelphia, Sept. 21, 1808.
“ In a few minutes I set out for the Eastern States, through Boston to Maine, and baek through the state of Vermont, in search of birds and subscribers. I regret that I have not been able to spend an evening with you before my departure. But I shall have a better stock of adventures to relate after my return.
“ I send a copy of the prospectus, and my best wishes for the happiness of the whole family. I leave my horse behind, and go by the stage coach, as being the least troublesome. I hope to make some discoveries in my tour, the least agreeable of which will, I fear, be — that I have bestowed a great deal of labour and expense to little purpose. But all these things will not prevent me from enjoying, as I pass along, the glorious face of Nature, and her ad- mirable productions, while I have eyes to see, and taste and judge- ment to appreciate them.”
After despatching the above note, Wilson set out on a journey to the eastward, to exhibit his book, and procure subscribers. He travelled as far as the District of Maine ; and returned through Vermont, by the way of Albany, to Philadelphia. From a letter to a friend, dated Boston, October 10th, 1808, we have made the following extract :
I have purposely avoided saying any thing either good or bad on the encouragement I have met with. I shall only say, that among the many thousands who have examined my book, and among these were men of the first character for taste and literature,
I have heard nothing but expressions of the highest admiration and esteem. If I have been mistaken in publishing a work too good for the country, it is a fault not likely to be soon I’epeated, and will pretty severely correct itself. But whatever may be the result of
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these matters, I shall not sit down with folded hands, whilst any thing can be done to carry my point : since God helps them who help themselves. I am fixing correspondents in every corner of these northern regions, like so many pickets and outposts, so that scarcely a wren or tit shall be able to pass along, from York to Ca- nada, but I shall get intelligence of it.”
To Mr. D. H. MILLER.
Boston, October 12, 1808.
Dear Sir,
“ I arrived here on Sunday last, after various adven- tures, the particulars of which, as well as the observations I have had leisure to make upon the passing scenery around me, I shall endeavour, as far as possible, to compress into this letter, for your own satisfaction, and that of my friends who may be interested for my welfare. My company in the stage coach to Newyork were all unknown to me, except Col, S., who was on his route to Fort Os- wego, on Lake Ontario, to take command of the troops intended to be stationed on that part of the frontier, to prevent evasions of the Embargo law. The sociable disposition and affability of the Colo- nel made this part of the journey pass very agreeably, for both be- ing fond of walking, whenever the driver stopped to water, or drink grog, which was generally every six or eight miles, we set out on foot, and sometimes got on several miles before the coach over- hauled us. By this method we enjoyed our ride, and with some little saving of horseflesh, which I know you will approve of. At Princeton I bade my fellow travellers good bye, as I had to wait upon the reverend doctors of the college. I took my book under my arm, put several copies of the prospectus into my pocket, and walked up to this spacious sanctuary of literature. I could amuse you with some of my reflections on this occasion, but room will
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not permit. Dr. Smith, the president, and Dr. McLean, professor of Natural History, were the only two I found at home. The latter invited me to tea, and both were much pleased and surprised with the appearance of the work, I expected to receive some valuable information from MTeaii on the ornithology of the country, but I soon found, to my astonishment, that he scarcely knew a sparrow from a woodpecker. At his particular request, I left a specimen of the plates with him \ and from what passed between us, I have hopes that he will pay more attention to this department of his pro- fession than he has hitherto done. I visited several other literary characters ; and, at about half past eight, the Pilot coming up, I took my passage in it to Newbrunswick, which we x’eached at mid- night, and where I immediately went to bed.
“ The next morning was spent in visiting the few gentlemen who were likely to patronise my undertaking. I had another task of the same kind at Elizabethtown ; and, without tiring you with details that would fill a volume, I shall only say that I reached Newark that day, having gratified the curiosity, and feasted the eyes, of a great number of people, who repaid me with the most ex- travagant compliments, which I would have very willingly ex- changed for a few simple subscriptions. I spent nearly the whole of Saturday in Newark, where my book attracted as many starers as a bear or a mammoth would have done ; and I arrived in New- york the same evening. The next day I wrote a number of letters, enclosing copies of the prospectus, to different gentlemen in town. In the afternoon of Tuesday I took my book, and waited on each of those gentlemen to whom I had written the preceding day. Among these I found some friends, but more admirei's. The pro- fessors of Columbia College expressed much esteem for my per- formance. The professor of languages, being a Scotchman, and also a Wilson, seemed to feel all the pride of national partiality so common to his countrymen ; and would have done me any favour in his power. I spent the whole of this week traversing the streets.
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from one particular house to another, till, I believe, I became al- most as well known as the public crier, or the clerk of the market, for I could frequently perceive gentlemen point me out to others as I passed with my book under my arm.
* ^
On Sunday morning, October 2, I went on board a packet for Newhaven, distant about ninety miles. The wind was favourable, and carried us rapidly through Hellgate, (a place I had no inten- tion of calling at in my tour) on the other side of which we found upwards of sixty vessels beating up for a passage. The Sound here, between Longisland and the main, is narrowed to less than half a mile, and filled with small islands, and enormous rocks un- der water, among which the tide roars and boils violently, and has proved fatal to many a seaman. At high water it is nearly as smooth as any other place, and can then be safely passed. The country, on the Newyork side, is ornamented with handsome villas, painted white, and surrounded by great numbers of Lombardy poplars. The breeze increasing to a gale, in eight hours from the time we set sail the high red-fronted mountain of Newhaven rose to our view. In two hours more we landed; and, by the stillness and solemnity of the streets, recollected we were in Newengland, and that it was Sunday, which latter circumstance had been almost forgotten on board the packet-boat.
“ This town is situated upon a sandy plain ; and the streets are shaded with elm trees and poplars. In a large park or com- mon, covered with grass, and crossed by two streets, and several foot paths, stand the church, the state house and college buildings, which last are one hundred and eighty yards in front. From these structures rise four or five wooden spires, which, in former time, as one of the professors informed me, were so infested by wood- peckers, which bored them in all directions, that, to preserve their steeples from destruction, it became necessary to set people, with guns, to watch and shoot these invaders of the sanctuary. Just
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about the town the pasture fields and corn look well, but a few miles off, the countiy is poor and ill cultivated,
‘^The literati of Newhaven received me with politeness and respect ; and after making my usual rounds, which occupied a day and a half, I set off for Middletown, twenty-two miles distant. The country through which I passed was generally flat and sandy — in some places whole fields were entirely covered with sand, not a blade of vegetation to be seen, like some parts of Newjersey. Round Middletown, however, the country is really beautiful — the soil rich; and here I first saw the river Connecticut, stretching along the east side of the town, which consists of one very broad street, with rows of elms on each side. On entering I found the street filled with troops, it being muster day; and I counted two hundred and fifty horse, and six hundred foot, all in uniform. The sides of the street were choaked up with wagons, carts and wheelbarrows, filled with bread, roast beef, fowls, cheese, liquors, barrels of cider and rum bottles. Some were singing out, Here’s the best brandy you ever put into your head!'' others in dozens shouting, “Here’s the round and sound gingerbi*ead ! most capital gingerbread !” In one place I observed a row of twenty or thirty country girls, drawn up with their backs to a fence, and two young fellows supplying them with rolls of bread from a neighbouring stall, which they ate with a hearty appetite, keeping nearly as good time with their grin- ders, as the militia did with their muskets. In another place the crowd had formed a ring, within which they danced to the catgut scrapings of an old negro. The spectators looked on with as much gravity as if they were listening to a sermon ; and the dancers la- boured with such seriousness, that it seemed more like a penance imposed on the poor devils, for past sins, than mere amusement.
“ I waited on a Mr. A. of this town ; and by him I was intro- duced to several others. He also furnished me with a good deal of information respecting the birds of Newengland. He is a great sportsman — a man of fortune and education — and has a consider-
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able number of stuffed birds, some of which he gave me, besides letters to several gentlemen of influence in Boston. I endeavoured to recompense him in the best manner I could, and again pursued my route to the north-east. The country between this and Hart- ford is extremely beautiful, much resembling that between Phila- delphia and Frankford. The road is a hard sandy soil; and in one place I had an immense prospect of the surrounding country, nearly equal to that which we saw returning from Easton, but less covered with woods. On reaching Hartford, I waited on Mr. G., a member of congress, who recommended me to several others, particularly a Mr. W., a gentleman of taste and fortune, who was extremely obliging. The publisher of a newspaper here expressed the highest admiration of the work, and has since paid many hand- some compliments to it in his publication, as three other editors did in Newyork. This is a species of currency that will neither purchase plates, nor pay the printer ; but, nevertheless, it is gratify- ing to the vanity of an author — when nothing better can be got. My journey from Hartford to Boston, through Springfield, Worcester, &c. one hundred and twenty-eight miles, it is impossible for me to detail at this time. From the time I entered Massachusetts, until within ten miles of Boston, which distance is nearly two thirds the length of the whole state, I took notice that the principal features of the country were stony mountains, rocky pasture fields, and hills and swamps adorned with pines. The fences, in every direction, are composed of strong stones ; and, unless a few straggling, self- planted, stunted apple trees, overgrown with moss, deserve the name, there is hardly an orchard to be seen in ten miles. Every six or eight miles you come to a meeting-house, painted white, with a spire. I could perceive little difference in the form or elevation of their steeples.
“ The people here make no distinction between torvn and town- ship ; and travellers frequently asked the driver of the stagecoach, “ What town are we now in when perhaps we were upon the
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top of a miserable barren mountain, several miles from a house. It is in vain to reason with the people on the impropriety of this — custom makes every absurdity proper. There is scarcely any cur- rency in this country but paper, and I solemnly declare that I do not recollect having seen one hard dollar since I left Newyork. Bills even of twenty-five cents, of a hundred different banks, whose very names one has never heard of before, are continually in circulation. I say nothing of the jargon which prevails in the country. Their boasted schools, if I may judge by the state of their schoolhouses, are no better than our own.
“ Lawyers swarm in every town like locusts ; almost every door has the word Office painted over it, which, like the web of a spider, points out the place where the spoiler lurks for his prey. There is little or no improvement in agriculture ; in fifty miles I did not observe a single grain or stubble field, though the country has been cleared and settled these one hundred and fifty years. In short, the steady habits of a great portion of the inhabitants of those parts of Newengland through which I passed, seem to be laziness, law bickerings and * * * A man here is as much ashamed of being seen walking the streets on Sunday, unless in going and re- turning from church, as many would be of being seen going to a ^ ^ ^ ^ house.
As you approach Boston the country improves in its appear- ance ; the stone fences give place to those of posts and rails ; the road becomes wide and spacious ; and every thing announces a better degree of refinement and civilization. It was dark when I entered Boston, of which I shall give you some account in my next. I have visited the celebrated Bunker’s Hill, and no devout pilgrim ever approached the sacred tomb of his holy Prophet with more awful enthusiasm, and profound veneration, than I felt in tracing the grass-grown intrenchments of this hallowed spot, made immor- tal by the bravery of those hex’oes who defended it, whose ashes are now mingled with its soil, and of whom a mean, beggarly pillar of bricks is all the memento.”
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To Mr. D. H. MILLER.
Windsor, Vermont, October 26, 1808.
Dear Sir,
“ I wrote you two or three weeks ago from Boston, where I spent about a week. A Mr. S., formerly piuvate secretary to John Adams, introduced me to many of the first rank in the place, Avhose influence procured me an acquaintance with others, and I journied through the streets of Boston with my book, as I did at Newyork and other places, visiting all the literary characters I could find access to.
“ I spent one morning examining Bunker’s Hill, accompanied by lieutenant Miller and sergeant Carter, two old soldiers of the Revolution, who were both in that celebrated battle, and who point- ed out to me a great number of interesting places. The brother of general Warren, who is a respectable physician of Boston, became very much my friend, and related to me many other matters res- pecting the engagement.
“ I visited the University at Cambridge, where thei'e is a fine library, but the most tumultuous set of students I ever saw.
“ From the top of Bunker’s Hill, Boston, Charlestown, the ocean, islands and adjacent country, form the most beautifully varied prospect I ever beheld.
“ The streets of Boston are a perfect labyrinth. The markets are dirty ; the fish market is so filthy that I will not disgust you by a description of it. Wherever you walk you hear the most hideous howling, as if some miserable wretch were expiring on the wheel at every corner; this, however, is nothing but the draymen shouting to their horses. Their drays are twenty-eight feet long, drawn by two horses, and carry ten barrels of flour. From Boston I set out for Salem, the country between swampy, and in some places the most barren, I’ocky and desolate in nature. Salem is a
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neat little town. The wharves were crowded with vessels. One wharf here is twenty hundred and twenty-two feet long. I staid here two days, and again set off for Newburyport, through a rocky, uncultivated, steril country.
^ ^ ^
I travelled on thi’ough Newhampshire, stopping at eveiy place where I was likely to do any business ; and went as far east as Portland in Maine, where I staid three days, and, the supreme court being then sitting, I had an opportunity of seeing and conver- sing with people from the remotest boundaries of the United States in this quarter, and received much interesting information from them with regard to the birds that frequent these northern regions. From Portland I directed my course across the country, among dreary savage glens, and mountains covered with pines and hem- locks, amid whose black and half burnt trunks the everlasting rocks and stones, that cover this country, “ grinned horribly.” One hundred and fifty-seven miles brought me to Dartmouth Col- lege, Newhampshire, on the Vermont line. Here I paid my ad- dresses to the reverend fathers of literature, and met with a kind and obliging reception. Dr. Wheelock, the president, made me eat at his table, and the professors vied with each other to oblige me.
“ I expect to be in Albany in five days, and if the legislature be sitting, I shall be detained perhaps three days there. In eight days more I hope to be in Philadelphia. I have laboured with the zeal of a knight errant in exhibiting this book of mine, wherever I went, travelling Avith it, like a beggar with his bantling, from town to town, and from one country to another. I have been loaded with praises — Avith compliments and kindnesses-— shaken almost to pieces in stage coaches ; have Avandered among strangers, hearing the same O^s and A/is, and telling the same story a thousand times over— -and for Avhat ? Ay, thaCs it ! You are very anxious to know, and you shall knoAv the Avhole Avhen I reach Philadelphia.”
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To Mr. ALEXANDER LAWSON.
Jilbany, November 3, 1808.
“ Dear Sir,
“ Having a few leisure moments at disposal, I M ill devote them to your service in giving you a sketch of some cir- cumstances in my long literary pilgrimage, not mentioned in my letters to Mr. Miller. And in the first place I ought to thank you for the thousands of compliments I have received for my birds from persons of all descriptions ; which were chiefly due to the taste and skill of the engraver. In short, the book, in all its parts, so far ex- ceeds the ideas and expectations of the first literary charactei's in the eastern section of the United States, as to command their ad- miration and respect. The only objection has been the sum of one hundred and txventy dollars, which, in innumerable instances, has risen like an evil genius between me and my hopes. Yet I doubt not but when those copies subscribed for are delivered, and the book a little better known, the whole number will be disposed of, and perhaps encouragement given to go on M'ith the rest. To ef- fect this, to me, most desirable object, I have encountered the fa- tigues of a long, circuitous, and expensive journey, with a zeal that has increased with increasing difficulties ; and sorry I am to say that the whole number of subscribers which I have obtained amounts only to forty-one,
“ While in Newyork I had the curiosity to call on the cele- brated author of the “ Rights of Man.” lie lives in Greenwich, a short way from the city. In the only decent apartment of a small indifferent-looking frame house, I found this extraordinary man, sitting wrapt in a night gown, the table before him covered with newspapers, with pen and ink beside him. Paine’s face w’ould have excellently suited the character of Bardolph ; but the penetration
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and intelligence of his eye bespeak the man of genius, and of the world. He complained to me of his inability to walk, an exercise he was formerly fond of ; — he examined my book, leaf by leaf, with great attention — desired me to put down his name as a sub- scriber ; and, after inquiring particularly for Mr. P. and Mr. B., Avished to be remembered to both,
“ My journey through almost the whole of Newengland has rather lowered the Yankees in my esteem. Except a few neat aca- demies, I found their schoolhouses equally ruinous and deserted Avith ours — fields covered with stones — stone fences — scrubby oaks and pine trees — wretched orchards — scarcely one grain field in twenty miles — the taverns along the road dirty, and filled with loungers, brawling about laAV suits and politics — the people snap- pish, and extortioners, lazy, and tAvo hundred years behind the Pennsylvanians in agricultural improvements. I traversed the country bordering the river Connecticut for nearly two hundred miles. Mountains rose on either side, sometimes three, six, or eight miles apart, the space between almost altogether alluvial ; the plains fertile, but not half cultivated. From some projecting head- lands I had immense prospects of the surrounding countries, every where clothed in pine, hemlock, and scrubby oak.
“ It was late in the evening Avhen I entered Boston, and, whirling through the narrow, lighted streets, or rather lanes, I could form but a very imperfect idea of the town. Early the next morn- ing, resolved to see where I was, I sought out the way to Beacon Hill, the highest part of the tOAvn, and whence you look down on the roofs of the houses — the bay interspersed Avith islands — the ocean— the surrounding country, and distant mountains of New- hampshire ; but the most singular objects are the long wooden bridges, of which there are fiA^e or six, some of them three quarters of a mile long, uniting the towns of Boston and Charlestown with each other, and with the main land. I looked round Avith an eager eye for that eminence so justly celebrated in the history of the Re-
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volution of the United States, Bunker’s Hill, but I could see no- thing that I could think deserving of the name, till a gentleman, who stood by, pointed out a white monument upon a height beyond Charlestown, which he said was the place. I explored my way thither without paying much attention to other passing objects ; and, in tracing the streets of Charlestown, was astonished and hurt at the indifference with which the inhabitants directed me to the place.* I inquired if there were any person still living here who had been in the battle, and I was directed to a Mr. Miller, who was a lieutenant in this memorable affair. He is a man of about sixty— -stout, remarkably fresh coloured, with a benign and manly countenance. I introduced myself without ceremony— -shook his hand with sincere cordiality, and said, with some warmth, that 1 was proud of the honour of meeting with one of the heroes of Bun- ker’s Hill— -the first unconquerable champions of their country. He looked at me, pressed my hand in his, and the tears instantly glistened in his eyes, which as instantly called up corresponding ones in my own. In our way to the place he called on a Mr. Car- ter, who he said was also in the action, and might recollect some circumstances which he had forgotten. With these two veterans I
We have here a trait of character worthy of note. Wilson’s enthusiasm did not permit him to reflect that an object which presents uncommon attractions to one who beholds it for the first time, can have no such effect upon the minds of the multitude, accustomed to view it froni their infancy, and in whose breasts those chaste and exquisite feelings which result from taste, refined by culture, can have no place.
But what Wilson felt upon this occasion was that which almost all men of genius and sen- sibility experience when similarly situated — that divine enthusiasm, which exalts one, as it were, above mortality, and which commands our respect in proportion as the subject of it is estimable or great.
Who has not read, and, having read, who can forget, that admirable passage in Johnson’s Journey to the Hebrides, wherein the illustrious traveller relates his reflections on his landing up- on the island of Icolmkill ! “ Far from me, and from my friends,” says he, “ be such frigid
philosophy as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which has been digni- fied by wisdom, bravery, or virtue.” That this frigid philosophy was a stranger to the soul of Wilson we have his own declaration in evidence ; and so little skilled was he in the art of con- cealing his emotions, that on any occasion which awakened his sensibility, he would exhibit the impulse of simple nature by weeping like a child.
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spent three hours, the most interesting to me of any of my life. As they pointed out to me the route of the British- — the American intrenchments- — the place where the greatest slaughter was made —-the spot where Warren fell, and where he was thrown amid heaps of the dead, I felt as though I could have encountered a whole battalion myself in the same glorious cause. The old soldiers were highly delighted with my enthusiasm ; we drank a glass of wine to the memory of the illustrious dead, and parted almost with regret.
“ From Boston to Portland, in the District of Maine, you are almost always in the neighbourhood, or within sight, of the Atlan- tic. The country may be called a mere skeleton of rocks, and fields of sand, in many places entirely destitute of wood, except a few low scrubby junipers, in others covered with pines of a dimi- nutive growth. On entering the tavern in Portland, I took up the newspaper of the day, in which I found my song of Freedom and Peace, ^ which I afterwards heard read before a numerous compan)^ (for the supreme court was sitting,) with great emphasis, as a most excellent song ; but I said nothing on the subject.
“ From Portland I steered across the country for the northern parts of Vermont, among barren, savage, pine-covered mountains, through regions where nature and art have done infinitely less to make it a fit residence for man than any country I ever traversed. Among these dreary tracts I found winter had already commenced, and the snow several inches deep. I called at Dartmouth College, the president of which, as well as of all I visited in Newengland, subscribed. Though sick with a severe cold, and great fatigue, I continued my route to this place, passing and calling at great num- bers of small towns in my way.
“ The legislature is at present in session — the newspapers have to-day taken notice of my book, and inserted my advertise-
* A certain military association of Philadelphia, being disposed to dignify the national cele- bration of this year, olfered a gold medal for the best song which should be written for the occa- sion ; and AVilson bore away the prize from many competitors.
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ment — I shall call on the principal people — employ an agent among some of the booksellers in Albany, and return home by Newyork.”
Wilson after tarrying at home a few days, departed to the southward, visiting every city and town of importance as far as Sa- vannah in the state of Georgia. This journey being performed in the winter, and alone, was of course not attended with many travel- ling comforts ; and, to avoid the inconveniences of a return by land, he embarked in a vessel, and arrived at Newyork in the month of March, 1809. This was rather an unproductive tour; but few subscriptions being obtained.
To Mr. D. H. MILLER.
Washington City, December 24, 1808.
Dear Sir,
“ I sit down, before leaving this place, to give you a few particulars of my expedition. I spent nearly a week in Bal- timore, with tolerable success, having procured sixteen subscribers there. In Annapolis 1 passed my book through both Houses of the Legislature : the wise men of Maryland stared and gaped, from bench to bench ; but having never heard of such a thing as one hundred and twenty dollars for a book, the ayes for subscribing were none ; and so it was unanimously determined in the negative. Nowise discouraged by this sage decision, I pursued my I’oute through the tobacco fields, sloughs and swamps, of this illitei*ate corner of the state, to Washington, distant thirty-eight miles ; and in my way opened fifty-five gates. I Avas forewarned tliat 1 should meet with many of these embarrassments, and I opened twenty- two of them with all the patience and philosophy I could muster; but Avhen I still found them coming thicker and faster, my patience
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and philosophy both abandoned me, and I saluted every new gate (which obliged me to plunge into the mud to open it) with perhaps less Christian resignation than I ought to have done. The negi'oes there are very numerous, and most wretchedly clad: their whole covering, in many instances, assumes the appearance of neither coat, waistcoat, nor breeches, but a motley mass of coarse, dirty woollen rags, of various colours, gathered up about them. When I stopped at some of the negro huts to inquire the road, both men and women huddled up their filthy bundles of rags around them, with both arms, in order to cover their nakedness, and came out, veiy civilly, to show me the way.
“ I cannot pretend, within the bounds of a letter, to give you a complete description of Washington. It consists of a great ex- tent of confined commons, one-half of which is nearly level, and little higher than the Potomac ; the other parts, on which the Capi- tol and Pi*esidenCs house are built, are high and commanding. The site is much better than I expected to find it; and is certainly a noble place for a great metropolis. I saw one brick house build- ing, which is the only improvement, of that kind, going on at pre- sent. The taverns and boarding houses here are crowded with an odd assemblage of characters. Fat placemen, expectants, contrac- tors, petitioners, office-hunters, lumber-dealers, salt-manufacturers, and numerous other adventurers. Among the rest are deputations from different Indian nations, along our distant frontiers, who are come here to receive their last aims from the President, previous to his retirement.
“ The President received me very kindly. I asked for nobo- dy to introduce me, but merely sent him in a line that I was there; when he ordered me to be immediately admitted. He has given me a letter to a gentleman in Virginia, who is to introduce me to a person there, who, Mr. Jefferson says, has spent his whole life in studying the manners of our birds ; and from whom I am to receive a world of facts and observations. The President intended to send
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for this person himself; and to take down, from his mouth, what he knows on the subject ; thinking it a pity, as he says, that the knowledge he possesses should die with him. But he has entrusted the business to me ; and I have promised him an account of our interview.
“ All the subscribers I have gleaned here amount to seventeen. I shall set oflF, on finishing this letter, to Georgetown and Alexan- dria. I will write you, or some of my friends, from Richmond.”
To Mr. D. H. MILLER.
Charleston, Fehruary 22, 1809.
Dear Sir,
I have passed through a considerable extent of country since I wrote you last ; and met with a variety of adven- tures, some of which may perhaps amuse you. Norfolk turned out better than I expected. I left that place on one of the coldest mornings I have experienced since leaving Philadelphia.
^ ^ ^ *
“ I mentioned to you in my last that the streets of Norfolk were in a most disgraceful state ; but I was informed that some time before, they had been much worse; that at one time the news- carrier delivered his papers from a boat ; which he poled along through the mire; and that a party of sailors, having nothing bet- ter to do, actually launched a ship’s long-boat into the streets, row- ing along with four oars through the mud, while one stood at the bow, heaving the lead, and singing out the depth.
“ I passed through a flat, pine covered country, from Norfolk to Suflblk, twenty-four miles distant; and lodged, in the way, in the house of a planter, who informed me that every year, in August and September, almost all his family are laid up with the bilious fever; that at one time forty of his people were sick ; and that of
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thirteen children, only three were living. Two of these, with their mother, appeared likely not to be long tenants of this world. Thir- ty miles farther, I came to a small place on the river Nottaway, called Jerusalem. Here I found the river swelled to such an ex- traordinary height, that the oldest inhabitant had never seen the like. After passing along the bridge, I was conveyed, in a boat termed a flat, a mile and three quarters through the woods, where the torrent sweeping along in many places rendered this sort of navigation rather disagreeable. I proceeded on my journey, pass- ing through solitary pine woods, perpetually interrupted by swamps, that covered the road with water two and three feet deep, frequent- ly half a mile at a time, looking like a long river or pond. These in the afternoon were surmountable; but the weather being exceed- ingly severe, they were covered every morning with a sheet of ice, from half an inch to an inch thick, that cut my horse’s legs and breast. After passing a bridge, I had many times to wade, and twice to swim my horse, to get to the shore. I attempted to cross the Roanoke at three different ferries, thirty-five miles apart, and at last succeeded at a place about fifteen miles below Halifax. A violent snow storm made the roads still more execrable.
“The productions of these parts of North Carolina are hogs, turpentine, tar, and apple brandy. A tumbler of toddy is usually the morning’s beverage of the inhabitants, as soon as they get out of bed. So universal is the practice, that the first thing you find them engaged in, after rising, is preparing the brandy toddy. You can scarcely meet a man whose lips are not parched and chop- ped or blistered with drinking this poison. Those who do not drink it, they say, are sure of the ague. I, however, escaped. The pine woods have a singular appearance, every tree being stripped, on one or more sides, of the bark, for six or seven feet up. The turpentine covers these parts in thick masses. I saw the people, in different parts of the woods, mounted on benches, chopping down the sides of the trees, leaving a trough or box in the tree for
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the turpentine to run into. Of hogs they have immense multitudes; one person will sometimes own five hundred. The leaders have bells round their necks ; and every drove knows its particular call, whether it be a conch-shell, or the bawling of a negro, though half a mile oflF. Their owners will sometimes drive them for four or five days to a market, without once feeding them.
The taverns are the most desolate and beggarly imaginable ; bare, bleak and dirty walls ; — one or two old broken chairs, and a bench, form all the furniture. The white females seldom make their appearance ; and every thing must be transacted through the medium of negroes. At supper, you sit down to a meal, the very sight of which is sufficient to deaden the most eager appetite ; and you are surrounded by half a dozen dirty, half-naked blacks, male and female, whom any man of common scent might smell a quar- ter of a mile off. The house itself is raised upon props, four or five feet ; and the space below is left open for the hogs, with whose charming vocal performance the wearied traveller is serenaded the Avhole night long, till he is forced to curse the hogs, the house, and every thing about it.
“ I crossed the river Taw at Washington, for Newbern, which stands upon a sandy plain, between the rivers Trent and Neuse, both of which abound with alligators. Here I found the shad fish- ery begun, on the 5th instant ; and wished to have some of you with me to assist in dissecting some of the finest shad I ever saw. Thence to Wilmington was my next stage, one hundred miles, with only one house for the accommodation of travellers on the road ; two landlords having been broken up with the fever.
The general features of North Carolina, where I crossed it, are immense, solitary, pine savannas, through which the road winds among stagnant ponds, swarming with alligators ; dark, sluggish creeks, of the colour of brandy, over which are thrown high wooden bridges, without railings, and so crazy and rotten as not only to alarm one’s horse, but also the rider, and to make it a matter of
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thanksgiving with both when they get fairly ovei'^ without going through; enormous cypress swamps, which, to a stranger, have a striking, desolate, and ruinous appearance. Picture to yourself a forest of prodigious trees, rising, as thick as they can grow, from a vast flat and impenetrable morass, covered for ten feet from the ground with reeds. The leafless limbs of the cypresses are clothed with an extraordinary kind of moss, {Tillandsia usneoides,) from two to ten feet long, in such quantities, that fifty men might conceal themselves in one tree. Nothing in this country struck me with such surprise as the prospect of several thousand acres of such tim- ber, loaded, as it were, with many million tons of tow, waving in the wind. I attempted to penetrate several of these swamps, with my gun, in search of something new ; but, except in some chance places, I found it altogether impracticable. I coasted along their borders, however, in many places, and was surprised at the great profusion of evergreens, of numberless sorts ; and a variety of ber- ries that I knew nothing of. Hei'e I found multitudes of birds that never winter with us in Pennsylvania, living in abundance. Though the people told me that the alligators are so numerous as to destroy many of their pigs, calves, dogs, &c., yet I have never been ena- bled to get my eye on one, though I have been several times in search of them with my gun. In Georgia, they tell me, they are ten times more numerous ; and I expect some sport among them. I saw a dog at the river Santee, who swims across when he pleases, in defiance of these voracious animals ; when he hears them behind him, he wheels round, and attacks them, often seizing them by the snout. They generally retreat, and he pursues his route again, serving every one that attacks him in the same manner.* He be- longs to the boatman ; and, when left behind, always takes to the water.
* This is an uncommon instance of intrepidity in the canine race, and is worthy of record. It is well known that the alligator is fond of dog-flesh ; and the dog appears to be instructed by instinct to avoid so dangerous an enemy, it being difficult to induce him to approach the haunts of the alligator, even when encouraged by the example of his master. A fine stout spaniel ac-
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As to the character of the North Carolinians, were I to judge of it by the specimens which I met with in taverns, I should pronounce them to be the most ignorant, debased, indolent and dissipated, portion of the union. But I became acquainted with a few such noble exceptions, that, for their sakes, I am willing to be- lieve they are all better than they seemed to be.
“ Wilmington contains about three thousand souls ; and yet there is not one cultivated field within several miles of it. The whole country, on this side of the river, is a mass of sand, into which you sink up to the ankles ; and hardly a blade of grass is to be seen. All about is pine barrens. * ^ ^ *
From Wilmington I rode through solitary pine savannas, and cypress swamps, as before ; sometimes thirty miles without seeing a hut, or human being. On arriving at the Wackamaw, Pe- dee, and Black river, I made long zigzags among the rich nabobs, who live on their rice plantations, amidst large villages of negro huts. One of these gentlemen told me that he had “ somethmg better than six hundred head of blacks These excursions detained me greatly. The roads to the plantations were so long, so difficult to find, and so bad, and the hospitality of the planters was such, that I could scarcely get away again. I ought to have told you that the deep sands of South Carolina had so worn out my horse, that, with all my care, I found he would give up. Chance led me to the house of a planter, named V., about forty miles north of the river Wackamaw, where I proposed to bargain with him, and to give up my young blood horse for another in exchange ; giving him at least as good a character as he deserved. He asked twenty dol- lars to boot, and / thirty. We parted, but I could perceive that
companied me to East Florida, Being one day engaged in wading through a pond, in pursuit of ducks, with my dog swimming behind me, apparently delighted with his employment, he smelt an alligator : he immediately made to the shore, fled into the forest, and all my endeavours to prevail with him to return were ineffectual. Ever after, when we approaclied that pond, he exhibited such evidences of apprehension, that I was fain to retire with him, lest his terror should again induce him to flee, where he would have, probably, been lost.
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he had taken a liking to my steed ; so I went on. He followed me to the seabeach, about three miles, under pretence of pointing out to me the road ; and there, on the sands, amidst the roar of the At- lantic, we finally bargained 3 and I found myself in possession of a large, well formed and elegant, sorrel horse, that ran oflF with me, at a canter, for fifteen miles along the sea shore ; and travelled the same day forty-two miles, with nothing but a few mouthfuls of rice straw, which I got from a negro. If you have ever seen the rushes with which carpenters sometimes smooth their work, you may form some idea of the common fare of the South Carolina horses. I found now that I had got a very devil before my chair ; the least sound of the whip made him spring half a rod at a leap ; no road, however long or heavy, could tame him. Two or three times he had nearly broke my neck, and chair to boot ; and at Georgetown ferry he threw one of the boatmen into the river. But he is an ex- cellent traveller, and for that one quality I forgave him all his sins, only keeping a close rein, and a sharp look out,
at ^ ^ ^
“ I should now give you some account of Charleston, with the streets of which I am as well acquainted as I was with those of Newyork and Boston ; but I reserve that till we meet. I shall only say, that the streets cross each other at right angles — are paved on the sides — have a low bed of sand in the middle ; and frequently are in a state fit to compare to those of Norfolk, The town, how- ever, is neat — has a gay appearance — is full of shops ; and has a market place which far surpasses those of Philadelphia for cleanli- ness, and is an honour to the city. Many of the buildings have two, three, and four ranges of piazzas, one above anothei*, with a great deal of gingerbread work about them. The streets are crowded with negroes ; and their quarrels often afford amusement to the passengers. In a street called Broad Street, I every day see a crowd of wretchedly clad blacks, huddled in a corner for sale : people handling them as they do black cattle. Here are female
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chimney sweeps ; stalls with roasted sweet potatoes for sale ; and on the wharves clubs of blacks, male and female, sitting round fires, amid heaps of oyster-shells, cooking their victuals — these seem the happiest mortals on earth. The finest groups for a comic painter might every day be found here that any country can produce.
“ The ladies of Charleston ai'e dressed with taste ; but their pale and languid countenances by no means correspond with their figures. ***
‘^To-morrow afternoon I shall set off for Savannah. I have collected one hundred and twenty-five subscribers since leaving home.”
Savannah^ March 5, 1809,
Dear Sir,
“ I have now reached the ne plus ultra of my pere- grinations, and shall return home by the first opportunity. Whether this shall be by land or water depends on circumstances ; if the former, I shall go by Augusta, where I am told twelve or fifteen subscribers may be procured. These, however, would be insuflS- cient to tempt me that way, for I doubt whether my funds would be sufficient to carry me through.
“ The innkeepers in the southern states are like the vultures that hover about their cities ; and treat their guests as the others do their carrion : are as glad to see them, and pick them as bare. The last letter I wrote you was on my arrival in Charleston. I found greater difficulties to surmount there than I had thought of. I solicited several people for a list of names, but that abject and disgraceful listlessness and want of energy which have unnerved the whites of all descriptions in these states, put me ofl' from time to time, till at last I was obliged to walk the streets, and pick out those houses which, from their appearance, indicated wealth and taste in the occupants, and introduce myself. Neither M., Dr. R.,
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nor any other that I applied to, gave me the least assistance, though they promised, and knew I was a stranger. I was going on in this way, when the keeper of the library, a Scotsman, a good man, whose name had been mentioned to me, made me out a list from the directory; and among these I spent ten days. The extreme servility and superabundance of negroes have ruined the energy and activity of the white population. M. appears to be fast sink- ing into the same insipidity of character; Avith a pretty good sprink- ling of rapacity. In Charleston, however, I met with some excel- lent exceptions, among the first ranks of society; and the Avork excited universal admiration. Dr. D. introduced it very handsomely into the Courier. On hearing of general Wilkinson’s arrival, I Avaited on him. He received me Avith kindness — said he valued the book highly — and paid me the twelve dollars ; on which I took occasion to prognosticate my final success on receiving its first fruits from him.
“I will not tire you by a recital of the difficulties Avhich I met Avith betAveen Charleston and Savannah, by bad roads, and the ex- traordinary flood of the river Savannah, where I had nearly lost my horse, he having, by his restiveness, thrown himself overboard; and, had I not, at great personal risk, rescued him, he might have floated doAvn to Savannah before me,
“I arrived here on Tuesday last, and advertised in the Re- publican, the editors of Avhich interested themselves considerably for me, speaking of my book in their Thursday’s paper Avith much approbation. The expense of advertising in the southern states is great ; but I found it really necessary. I have noAV seen every per- son in this place and neighbourhood, of use to be seen. Hei'e I close the list of my subscriptions, obtained at a price worth more than five times their amount. But, in spite of a host of difficulties,
I have gained my point ; and should the work be continued in the style it has been begun, I have no doubt but we may increase the copies to four hundred. J have endeavoured to find persons of
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respectability in each town, who will receive and deliver the vo- lumes, without recompense, any further than allowing them to make the first selection. By this means the rapacity of some booksellers will be avoided.
“ The weather has been extremely warm these ten days, the thermometer stood in the shade on Friday and Saturday last, at 78° and 79°. I have seen no frost since the 5th of February, The few gardens here are as green and luxuriant as ours are in sum- mer— full of flow^ering shrubbery, and surrounded with groves of orange trees, fifteen and twenty feet high, loaded with fruit. The streets are deep beds of heavy sand, without the accommodation of a foot pavement. I most sincerely hope that I may be able to return home by water ; if not, I shall trouble you with one letter more.’^
To Mr. WITT JAM BARTRAM.
Savannah, March 5, 1809.
“ Three months, my dear friend, are passed since I parted from you in Kingsess. I have been travelling ever since; and one half of my journey is yet to be performed — but that half is home- wards, and through old Neptune’s dominions, where I trust I shall not be long detained. This has been the most arduous, expensive, and fatiguing, expedition I ever undertook. I have, however, gain- ed my point in procuring two hundred and fifty subscribers, in all, for my Ornithology ; and a great mass of information respecting the birds that winter in the southern states, and some that never visit the middle states ; and this information I have derived person- ally, and can therefore the more certainly depend upon it. I have, also, found several new birds, of which I can find no account in Linneus. All these things we will talk over when w^e meet.
Hi- ^ ^
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“ I visited a great number of the rich rice planters on the rivers Santee and Pedee, and was much struck with the miserable swarms of negroes around them. In these rice plantations there are great numbers of birds never supposed to winter so far north, and their tameness surprised me. There are also many here that never visit Pennsylvania. Round Georgetown I also visited several rich plan- ters, all of whom entertained me hospitably. I spent ten days in Charleston, still, in every place where I stopped a day or two, ma- king excursions with my gun.
“ On the commons, near Charleston, I presided at a singular feast. The company consisted of two hundred and thirty-seven Carrion Crows, {Viiltui' atratus^ five or six dogs, and myself, though I only kept order, and left the eating part entirely to the others. I sat so near to the dead horse, that my feet touched his, and yet at one time I counted thirty-eight vultures on and within him, so that hardly an inch of his flesh could be seen for them. Linneus and others have confounded this Vultur with the Turkey Buzzard, but they are two very distinct species.
“As far north as Wilmington, in North Carolina, I met with the Ivory-billed Woodpecker. I killed two, and winged a male, who alarmed the whole town of Wilmington, screaming exactly like a young child crying violently, so that every body supposed I had a baby under the apron of my chair, till I took out the bird to prevent the people from stopping me. This bird I confined in the loom I was to sleep in, and in less than half an hour he made his way through the plaster, the lath, and partly through the weather boai'ds ; and would have escaped, if I had not accidentally come in. The common people confound the P. principalis and P. pilea- ills together.
^
“ I am utterly at a loss in my wood rambles here, for there are so many trees, shrubs, plants and insects, that I know nothing of. There are immense quantities of elegant butterflies, and other
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singular insects. I met with a grasshopper so big that I took it for a bird ; it settles upon trees and bushes. I have kept a re- cord of all the birds which I have seen or shot since I left home,
“ This journey will be of much use to me, as I have formed acquaintance in almost every place, who are able to transmit me information. Great numbers of our summer birds are already here ; and many are usually here all winter.
“ There is a Mr. Abbot here, who has resided in Georgia thirty-three years, drawing insects and birds. I have been on se- veral excursions with him. He is a very good observer, and paints well. He has published, in London, one large folio volume of the Lepidopterous Insects of Georgia. It is a very splendid work. There is only one vessel here bound to Newyork; she sails some time next week, and I shall take my passage in her. I caught a fever here by getting wet ; I hope the sea air, and sea-sickness, will carry it ofiF.’^
Savannah^ March 8, 1809.
Dear Sir,
“ Having now visited all the towns w ithin one liiin- dred miles of the Atlantic from Maine to Georgia, and done as much for this bantling book of mine as ever author did for any pro- geny of his brain, I now turn my wishful eye towards home. There is a charm, a melody, in this little word home^ which only those know who have forsaken it to wander among strangers, exposed to dangers, fatigues, insults and impositions, of a thousand nameless kinds. Perhaps I feel the force of this idea rather more at present than usual, being indisposed with a slight fever these three days, which a dose of sea-sickness will, I hope, rid me of. The w^eather since my arrival in this place has been extremely warm for the sea- son. The wind generally south-west, and the thermometer ranging between 75 and 82. To me it feels more intolerable than our sum-
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mer heat in Philadelphia. The streets of Savannah are also mere beds of burning sand, without even a foot pavement ; and until one learns to traverse them with both eyes and mouth shut, both are plentifully filled with showers and whirlwinds of sand. I was lon- ger detained in Charleston than I expected, partly on account of the races, which occupied