great perseverance at his leisure hours. In a short time he acquired a knowledge of mathematics, concerning which he knew little or nothing when he first stepped on the American soil. However, he was not negligent of other matters, and had not forgotten his political principles, for we find him delivering an "Oration on the power and value of National Liberty," to a large assemblage of the citizens of Millstown, on the day on which Mr. Jefferson was elected President, 1801. He was also cultivating the muse, and the date of his patriotic song, "Jefferson and Liberty," appears to be at this period. While Wilson resided here, he, during a summer vacation from his professional duties, travelled eight hundred miles in ninety days, into the state of New York, for the purpose of visiting and assisting his nephew, William Duncan, who was residing there on a small farm, the purchase of which had been greatly assisted by Mr. Sulivan. The object of this purchase was to provide an asylum for his sister, the mother of his nephew, and her family of little children, who were induced to emigrate in hopes of bettering their circumstances. About the beginning of the year 1802, Wilson removed to the village of Bloomfield, in New Jersey, where he again taught a school. But soon afterwards, hearing of a situation more to his wishes, he applied to the trustees of the union school, in the township of Kingsessing, at a short distance from Grey's Ferry, on the river Schuylkill. His services were accepted, and he was thus within a few miles of Philadelphia. The going to this place proved fortunate to Wilson, as he became acquainted with the amiable self-taught naturalist, William Bertram, whose residence and fine botanic garden were in the vicinity of his schoolhouse. The following lines from his beautiful poem, "The Solitary Tutor," written while residing here, give a faithful picture of the mind and pursuits of the humble schoolmaster-" a strange recluse and solitary wight"-during this comparatively happy period of his life, when his mind had not yet conceived the grand design of his national work: "Dear, dear to him! affection's ardent glow, Even now, as Memory's sad reflections flow, "One charming nymph with transport he adores- And mixes jocund with the encircling Nine; While Mathematics solve his dark design, Sweet Music soothes him with her syren strains; Exalts him far above terrestrial plains, And Painting's fairy hand his mimic pencil trains "Thus, peaceful pass his lonely hours away, With life-inspiring airs, and wanton jigs between." From this period his career as the ornithologist must be dated; but he had as yet entertained that branch of natural history in common with others, for his attention was equally taken up with a host of other animals. This cannot be better described than by giving the following extract from a letter to his friend Bertram:-"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 contemplation 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 pleasing. 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 fivepenny bits, to make them find the way fast enough. A boy not long ago, brought me a large basketful 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. I set about drawing it the same evening, and all the while the pantings of its little heart showed it to be in the most extreme agonies of fear. I had 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 restored it to life and liberty. The agonies of a prisoner at the stake, while the fire and instruments of torture are preparing, could not be more severe than the sufferings of that poor mouse; and, insignificant as the object was, I felt at that moment the sweet sensations that mercy leaves in the mind when she triumphs over cruelty." In June, 1803, writing to a friend in Paisley, he says, "Close application to the duties of my profession, which I have followed since Nov. 1795, has deeply injured my constitution; the more so, that my rambling disposition was the worst calculated of any one in the world for the austere regularity of a teacher's life. I have had many pursuits since I left Scotland,-mathematics, the German language, music, drawing, &c.; and I am about to make a collection of all our finest birds." It was at this period that he formed the design of his "American Ornithology;" but his ideas on the subject were but faint dawnings of the great work he afterwards achieved. He soon made his design known to his friends, who, although fully convinced of his abilities and perseverance, could not seriously advise him in his undertaking, from the many difficulties which he would have to encounter, being without fortune or patronage. One of the greatest obstacles they considered would be the getting of sufficient patronage, without which to attempt a work of such an expensive nature, would involve him in embarrassments, out of which he would never be able to struggle. But all objections Wilson soon overruled, terming the prudential maxims with which they assailed him, as the maxims of cold, calculating philosophy; and from this moment he devoted his whole energies to the accomplishment of his object, in a manner truly wonderful. To bring himself into some notice, and, perhaps, to add something to his funds, he sent some poetical pieces to the "Literary Magazine," then conducted by the now celebrated novelist, Charles Brockden Brown. His 66 Solitary Tutor" was published in this Magazine; but it does not appear, says one of his American biographers, that he received any remuneration for his contributions. In October of the year 1804, Wilson, accompanied by a friend and his nephew, commenced his first pilgrimage, by setting out on a pedestrian journey to the far-famed Falls of Niagara. It was too late in the season to undertake such a journey; and our travellers, on their return, were overtaken by winter, and had to travel a great part of the way through snow, almost knee deep. Wilson was more persevering than his companions in travel; one of them remained with his friends near the Lake Cayuga, and the other chose a more agreeable mode of travelling. But Wilson, with his hardy pride, went on alone, carrying his gun and his baggage, and reached home on the 7th of December, after an absence of fifty-nine days, in the last of which he walked 47 miles, and during the whole time traversed 1257 miles. Shortly after his return home he published, in the "Portfolio," his "Foresters," being a poetic narrative of his journey, and afterwards in a separate form, with illustrative plates and notes. In this poem there are many pretty passages descriptive of the scenery of America-" scenes new to song and paths untrod before;”—and, in the following lines, the argument of which is, "American scenery seldom the theme of poetry," Wilson charmingly contrasts the magnificent and sublime scenery of that land, with the less pretending, though not less beautiful, scenery of his native country: "To Europe's shores, renowned in deathless song, Must all the honours of the bard belong, And rural Poetry's enchanting strain Be only heard beyond the Atlantic main? An Humphreys, blessed with Homer's nervous glow; While bare bleak heaths, and brooks of half a mile, Or humble hamlet peeps their glades among, While scarce one Muse returns the songs they gave, At this period he writes as follows to his friend Bertram:-"Though in this tour I have had every disadvantage of deep roads and rough weather, hurried marches, and many other inconveniences; 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 commence 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." It is worthy of remark, that while writing in this enthusiastic manner, like another Ledyard, anxious in pursuit of knowledge to explore the farthermost ends of the world, the whole amount of his personal property was only three quarters of a dollar, -little more than three shillings. Nevertheless, Wilson was now determined to follow the bent of his inclination, and all his leisure moments were devoted to the study of his darling pursuit. He improved himself in drawing |