genius; and we are not surprised that his settled view of the philosophy of life was patient self-reliance, and meditation on facts derived from personal observation, with unremitted habits. of labor. To these resources he owed his own renown and achievements; and his high-arched brow, dark-gray eye, and vivacious temperament, marked him as fitted by nature to excel in action as well as thought a destiny which his pursuits singularly realized. There was something bird-like in the very physiognomy of Audubon, in the shape and keenness of his eye, the aquiline form of the nose, and a certain piercing and vivid expression when animated. He was thoroughly himself only amid the freedom and exuberance of nature; the breath of the woods exhilarated and inspired him; he was more at ease under a canopy of boughs than beneath gilded cornices, and felt a necessity to be within sight either of the horizon or the sea. Indeed, so prevailing was this appetite for nature, if we may so call it, that from the moment the idea of his last-projected expedition was abandoned, in accordance with the urgent remonstrances of his family, mindful of his advanced age, he began to droop, and the force and concentration of his intellect visibly declined. Both his success and his misfortunes, therefore, proved the wisdom of Richter's advice, to steadfastly and confidently follow the permanent instincts of character, however they may seem opposed to immediate interest.

The style of Audubon reflects his character with unusual emphasis and truth. He was one of that class of men who united intellectual and physical activity in their natures so equally, that while their very temperament forbids them to be exclusively students, their intelligence demands a constant accession of new ideas. Professor Wilson and Baron Humboldt belong to the same species. No one can glance over Audubon's Biography of Birds without being struck with the unusual animation and reality of the style. He writes with an ease and enthusiasm that makes portions of his work quite as entertaining and far more suggestive than a felicitous novel. Instead of a formal nomenclature or pedantic description, he digresses continually from the technical details which are requisite to the scientific value of his treatise, to charming episodes of personal adventure, sketches of

local scenery and habits, and curious anecdotes illustrative of natural history or human character. The titles of these incidental chapters adequately suggest their aim and interest, such as "Hospitality in the Woods," "Force of the Waters," "The Squatters of Labrador," "Wreckers of Florida," "A Maple Sugar Camp,' "A Ball in Newfoundland," "Breaking Up of the Sea," "Pitting of Wolves," "Long Calm at Sea," "A Kentucky Barbecue, etc. We are thus genially admitted to the knowledge of much that is characteristic and interesting, by spirited and graceful narratives. His artist's eye and his sportsman's zest give liveliness and a picturesque grace to the best of these interludes; they relieve the monotony of mere description, and also impart an individuality to the entire work, by associating the positive information it conveys with the fortunes and feelings of the author. His habit of naming newly-discovered birds after his friends is another pleasing feature. Thus genially is our view of nature enlarged, the attractiveness of romance given to a department of natural history, and one part of the world made perfectly acquainted with the feathered tribes of another. We need not enlarge upon the amenities resulting from pursuits of this kind, and their encouragement by individuals of taste and wealth, of the innocent and available gratification thus extensively yielded, or of the more liberal and pleasing views resulting therefrom. In a literary point of view, the style of Audubon, notwithstanding an almost unavoidable vein of egotism, in its clearness, colloquial facility, and infectious enthusiasm, proves how much more effectively intimacy with nature develops even the power of expression than conformity to rules; and vindicates completeness of life, animal and mental, as essential to true manhood even in literature.

This, in our view, is one of the most important lessons derived from such a career as that of Audubon philosophically considered. There is a cant of spiritualism, at the present day, which repudiates the vital relation of genius to material laws. In the view of this shallow philosophy, to trace intellectual results in any degree to physical causes is derogating from the essential beauty of mind. The class of persons who affect this extreme devotion to ethereal systems, aim to sever body and soul while mutually alive, contemn physiology in their analysis of character, and recognize

only the abstract in mental phenomena. This mode of reasoning is founded not less in irreverence than error. The most truly beautiful and significant phases of intellect, fancy, moral sentiment, and all that is deemed spiritual in man, is born of its combination with the human. Indeed, the grand characteristic of life, considered in a metaphysical light, is that it is a condition which brings together and gives scope for the action and reäction of material influences on spiritual genius. The end is development, growth, and modification. As the rarest fruit owes its flavor and hues to qualities imbibed from earth and air, from rain and sunshine, so what is called the soul is the product of the thinking and sensitive principle in our nature, warmed, enriched. and quickened by the agency of an animal organism, the channel of nature, by sensation, physical development, appetites and sensations, as well as ideas.

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An author differs from other men only by the gift and habit of expression. This faculty (to which, for the ordinary purpose convenience and pleasure, speech is only requisite) through genial cultivation redoubles its force, meaning, and beauty, and is capable of affording a kind of permanent utterance to what is most dear and important to man. It is obvious, therefore, that the more thoroughly an author's nature embraces the traits peculiar to manhood, the more efficiently and satisfactorily will his vocation. be fulfilled. Hence the universal recognition of Shakspeare's supremacy in authorship: it is because his range of expression included more of what is within and around life-more, in a word, of humanity - than any other single expositor. In general, authorship is partial, temporary, and its force lies in a special form. Writers devoted to abstract truth, like Kant and Jonathan Edwards, are not to be included in the proposition, as their appeal is not to the sympathies, but to the pure intelligence of the race. But the authors who really affect the mass, and represent vividly the spirit of their age, are not less eminent for genuine human qualities, for prevailing traits of temperament, appetite, and sensibility, than for superior reflective and imaginative gifts. It is, indeed, essential that they should possess the former in a high degree in order effectively to exhibit the latter. This is constantly illustrated in literature and art. With a fancy which

scarcely approached. the idealism of Shelley, Burns thrilled the heart of his kind by virtue of an organization that humanized his genius. Landor is equipped with the lore of antiquity, and all the graces of classical diction, to advocate his liberal opinions; yet, while his elegant volumes adorn the libraries of scholars and men of taste, Dickens, by virtue of what may be called a more genial instinct, pleads for the oppressed in a million hearts. Jenny Lind sings many cavatinas with more precision and artistic power than Grisi; but her voice, uncharged with the sensuous life, whose vibration is inevitably sympathetic, does not so seize upon the nerves or quicken the blood. The element of sensation, as related to sound, form, and ideas, is essential to popular literature. It is the peculiar characteristic of this department of art that it depends upon sympathy, which can only be awakened in large circles by addressing the whole nature, by winning the senses as well as the mind, stirring the heart not less than eliciting the judgment, and, in a word, making itself felt in that universal human consciousness which, to distinguish it alike from mere intellect or mere feeling, we call the soul.

The author who expects reception there must write not only with his intelligence, his imagination, and his will, but with his temperament and his sensitive organism; he must, in a degree, fuse perception and sensation, nervous energy and moral feeling, physical emotion and aerial fancy; and then, at some point, he will be sure to touch the sympathy of others; not the scholar only, but the peasant. Accordingly, we always find in the habits and idiosyncrasies of popular authors a clue to their success. There is an analogy between their constitution and their writing. The tone of the latter is born of the man, and forms his personal distinction as an author. Reasoning, rhetoric, and descriptive limning, considered as processes, do not differ according to the writer, they only vary in a certain spirit, manner, or, more properly, tone and when we analyze this, we shall find it given out by the individual character, by the particular union of moral and physical qualities that make up the identity of the author, and not originating in a pure abstract and spiritual emanation. Far from diminishing, this but enhances the interest of authorship; it renders it a great social fact, and a legitimate branch of

human economy. It teaches us to regard authors as we regard men, by the light of character; and from their human to deduce their literary peculiarities instead of the reverse, which is the method of superficial criticism.

The popular basis of Audubon's renown, as well as the individuality of his taste as a naturalist, rests upon artistic merit. We have alluded to the instinctive desire he so early manifested not only to observe, but to possess the beautiful denizens of the forest and the meadow; and he candidly acknowledges that he was induced to take their portraits to console himself for not possessing the originals. Rude as were his first attempts to delineate birds, few portrait-painters work in a more disinterested spirit. The motive was neither gain, nor hope of distinction, nor even scientific enthusiasm; for when Wilson called at his place of business, these primitive sketches were produced as the results of leisure, and the work of an unskilled amateur. It is evident, therefore, that a genuine love of the occupation, and a desire to have authentic memorials of these objects of his enthusiastic admiration, was the original cause of his labors with crayon and pigments; circumstances, an ardent temperament, and an earnest will, gradually developed this spontaneous tendency into a masterly artistic faculty; he sketched, painted, and destroyed, copied, retouched, and improved, until he succeeded in representing perfectly the forms, colors, attitudes, and expression, of the feathered tribe. The life-size of these delineations, their wonderful accuracy, the beauty of their hues, and the animation of their aspect, instantly secured for the backwoodsman-artist universal praise; but a minute inspection revealed yet higher claims; each plate, in fact, is an epitome of the natural history of the species depicted; male and female, young and adult, are grouped together, their plumage at different seasons, the vegetation they prefer, the soil, the food, sometimes the habits, and often the prey, of each bird, are thus indicated; and we take in at a glance not only the figure, but the peculiarities of the genus. This completeness of illustration, the result of vast study, united as it is with grace and brilliancy of execution, led the great naturalist of France to declare that America had achieved a work unequalled in Europe. No lover of nature, whether poet or savan, can