horse, when hearing the report of a rifle immediately beside me, I looked up and saw the poor mocking-bird fluttering to the ground. One of the savages had marked his elevation, and barbarously shot him. I hastened over into the yard, and walking up to him, told him that was bad, very bad! That this poor bird had come from a far-distant country to sing to him, and that in return he had cruelly killed him. I told him, the Great Spirit was offended with such cruelty, and that he would lose many a deer for doing so. The old Indian, father-in-law to the bird-killer, understanding by the negro interpreter what I said, replied, that when these birds come singing and making a noise all day near the house, somebody will surely die,-which is exactly what an old superstitious German, near Hampton, in Virginia, once told me. This fellow had married the two eldest daughters of the old Indian, and presented one of them with the bird he had killed. On the fourteenth day of my journey, at noon, I arrived at this place, having overcome every obstacle, alone, and without being acquainted with the country; and what surprised the boatmen more, without whiskey. The Chickasaws are a friendly, inoffensive people; and the Chocktaws, though more reserved, are equally harmless. Both of them treated me with civility, though I several times had occasion to pass through their camps, where many of them were drunk. The paroquet which I carried with me, was a continual fund of amusement to all ages of these people; and as they crowded around to look at it, gave me an opportunity of studying their physiognomies, without breach of good manners."

On the 6th of June he reached New-Orleans, and arrived on the 30th of July at New-York, and returned to Philadelphia enriched with a stock of new materials for his work, including several beautiful and undescribed birds.

The publication of the Ornithology now advanced as rapidly as a due regard to correctness and elegance would permit. In order to become better acquainted with the migrations, manners, and habits of birds, he resided the greater part of the years 1811 and 1812, in the retirement of his friend Mr. Bartram's botanic garden. Here, removed from the bustle and interruption of the city, he was enabled to dispose of his time to the best advantage: when fatigued with his studies within, he had only to cross the threshold of his abode in order to recreate his mind by the observation and enjoyment of multitudes of the feathered creation, in whose society he was always happy.

The seventh volume was published in the spring of 1813; soon after, he set out on his last expedition, to Great Egg-harbour, in company with his friend, Mr. George Ord, where they, remained for nearly four weeks, constantly occupied in collecting materials for the eighth volume, which, he resolved, should, if possible, excel the others, both in the value of its materials and the beauty of its embellishments. Immediately on his return to Philadelphia, he engaged anew in his arduous avocations, and by the month of August, he had completed the letter press of the eighth volume, though the whole of the plates were not finished. But, unfortunately, his great anxiety to conclude the work, condemned his mind to an excess of toil, beyond the strength of his constitution. He was prevented from residing in the country, where hours of mental lassitude might have been

beguiled by a rural walk, and the invigorating exercise of the gun. At length he was attacked by the dysentery, a disease, which, perhaps, at any other period of his life, might not have been attended with fatal consequences, but which, in the present debilitated state of his mind and body, hurried him, in the course of ten days, to a premature grave. He closed his mortal career on the 23d day of August, 1813, having just before completed his forty-seventh year.

In this imperfect sketch, we have endeavoured to let him tell his own story of the difficulties which his enthusiasm in the cause of science enabled him to overcome, even with the sacrifice of his life. Something remains to be added as to the character of this extraordinary man. He was eminently endowed by nature and by art, with the qualities of a great naturalist. His heart was purified, by his devotion to science, above all selfish or vulgar considerations. In his speculations, he indulged, not in points of delicate learning, nor in the conceits of theorists; his mind was vigorous and inquisitive, and he loved to study nature in her original creations, by tracking her footsteps and developing her mysteries, amidst the solemnity of the wilderness. He made himself a social companion of the feathered tribes, studied their domestic habits, instincts, modes of nidification, manner of flight, seasons of migration, song, and favourite food, and seemed by intuition to pry into, and interpret their language and dispositions. His descriptions are full of individuality, presenting objects so distinctly and minutely to our minds, that we wonder they had previously escaped our attention and admiration. We look with astonishment at the magnitude of his labours: at a period when our advancement in the arts was next to nothing, he found means, by the exertion of his own unaided energies, to produce a work which would have done honour to Europe. Had his life been spared, it was his intention to execute a work upon a similar plan, upon the Zoology of America. His personal character is drawn with candour and discrimination by his friend, Mr. Ord.

"Wilson, (he observes) was possessed with the nicest sense of honour. In all his dealings, he was not only scrupulously just, but highly generous. His veneration for truth was exemplary. His disposition was social and affectionate. His benevolence was extensive. He was remarkably temperate in eating and drinking; his love of study and retirement preserving him from the contaminating influence of the convivial circle. But as no one is perfect, Wilson, in a small degree, partook of the weakness of humanity. He was of the genus irritabile, and was obstinate in opinion. It ever gave him pleasure to acknowledge error, when the conviction resulted from his own judgment alone, but he could not endure to be told of his mistakes. Hence, his associates had to be sparing of their criticisms, through a fear of forfeiting his friendship. With almost all his friends, he had, occasionally, arising from a collision of opinion, some slight misunderstanding, which was soon passed over, leaving no disagreeable impression. But an act of disrespect he could ill brook, and a wilful injury he would seldom forgive. "In his person he was of a middle stature, of a thin habit of body; his cheek

horse, when hearing the report of a rifle immediately beside me, I looked up and saw the poor mocking-bird fluttering to the ground. One of the savages had marked his clevation, and barbarously shot him. I hastened over into the yard, and walking up to him, told him that was bad, very bad! That this poor bird had come from a far-distant country to sing to him, and that in return he had cruelly killed him. I told him, the Great Spirit was offended with such cruelty, and that he would lose many a deer for doing so. The old Indian, father-in-law to the bird-killer, understanding by the negro interpreter what I said, replied, that when these birds come singing and making a noise all day near the house, somebody will surely die,-which is exactly what an old superstitious German, near Hampton, in Virginia, once told me. This fellow had married the two eldest daughters of the old Indian, and presented one of them with the bird he had killed. On the fourteenth day of my journey, at noon, I arrived at this place, having overcome every obstacle, alone, and without being acquainted with the country; and what surprised the boatmen more, without whiskey. The Chickasaws are a friendly, inoffensive people; and the Chocktaws, though more reserved, are equally harmless. Both of them treated me with civility, though I several times had occasion to pass through their camps, where many of them were drunk. The paroquet which I carried with me, was a continual fund of amusement to all ages of these people; and as they crowded around to look at it, gave me an opportunity of studying their physiognomies, without breach of good manners."

On the 6th of June he reached New-Orleans, and arrived on the 30th of July at New-York, and returned to Philadelphia enriched with a stock of new materials for his work, including several beautiful and undescribed birds.

The publication of the Ornithology now advanced as rapidly as a due regard to correctness and elegance would permit. In order to become better acquainted with the migrations, manners, and habits of birds, he resided the greater part of the years 1811 and 1812, in the retirement of his friend Mr. Bartram's botanic garden. Here, removed from the bustle and interruption of the city, he was enabled to dispose of his time to the best advantage: when fatigued with his studies within, he had only to cross the threshold of his abode in order to recreate his mind by the observation and enjoyment of multitudes of the feathered creation, in whose society he was always happy.

The seventh volume was published in the spring of 1813; soon after, he set out on his last expedition, to Great Egg-harbour, in company with his friend, Mr. George Ord, where they remained for nearly four weeks, constantly occupied

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