Chapter M: R. a (7)

_November 1._ I breakfasted at Professor Jameson's. A most splendid house, splendid everything, breakfast to boot. The professor wears his hair in three distinct, different courses; when he sits fronting the south, for instance, the hair on his forehead bends westwardly, the hair behind eastwardly, and the very short hair on top mounts directly upward, perhaps somewhat like the quills of the "fretful porcupine." But never mind the ornamental, external appendages of his skull, the sense _within_ is great, and full of the nobleness which comes from a kind, generous heart. Professor Jameson to-day is no more the man I took him to be when I first met him. He showed me an uncommon degree of cordiality, and promised me his powerful assistance so forcibly that I am sure I can depend upon him. I left him and his sister at ten, as we both have much to do besides talking, and drinking hot, well creamed coffee; but our separation was not long, for at noon he entered my room with several gentlemen to see my drawings. Till four I was occupied showing one picture after another, holding each one at arm's-length, and was very tired, and my left arm once I thought had an idea of revolutionizing. When my guests had gone I walked out, took plenty of needed exercise, often hearing remarks about myself such as "That's a German physician;" "There's a French nobleman." I ended my walk at Mr. Lizars', and while with him expressed a wish to secure some views of beautiful Edinburgh; he went to another room and brought in a book of views for me to look at, which I did with interest. He then asked me to draw something for him, and as I finished a vignette he pushed the book of superb Edinburgh towards me; on the first leaf he had written, "To John J. Audubon, as a very imperfect expression of the regard entertained for his abilities as an artist, and for his worth as a friend, by William H. Lizars, engraver of the 'Views of Edinburgh.'" I saw--though by gas-light--some of Mr. Lizars' work, printing from copper, coloring with water-color and oils, etc., on the same, for the first time in my life. How little I know! how ignorant I am! but I will learn. I went to bed after reading Sir Walter's last novel till I was so pleased with the book that I put it under my pillow to dream about, as children do at Christmas time; but my dreams all went another way and I dreamed of the beech woods in my own dear land.

_November 2, Thursday._ I drew the bell at the door of No. 80 George Street, where lives Dr. Thompson, just as the great bell of St. Andrews struck nine, and we soon sat down to breakfast. Dr. Thompson is a good, and good-looking man, and extremely kind; at the table were also his wife, daughter, son, and another young gentleman; and just as my second cup of coffee was handed to me a certain Dr. Fox entered with the air of an old friend, and at once sat down. He had been seventeen years in France, and speaks the language perfectly, of course. After having spoken somewhat about the scrubbiness of the timber here, and the lofty and majestic trees of my country dear, I rose to welcome Mrs. Lizars, who came in with her husband and some friends. Mr. Lizars had not seen one of my largest drawings; he had been enamoured with the Mocking-birds and Rattle-snake, but, Lucy, the Turkeys--her brood, the pose of the Cock Turkey--the Hawk pouncing on seventeen Partridges, the Whooping Crane devouring alligators newly born--at these he exclaimed again and again. All were, he said, wonderful productions; he wished to engrave the Partridges; but when the Great-footed Hawks came with bloody rags at their beaks' ends, and cruel delight in the glance of their daring eyes, he stopped mute an instant, then said, "_That_ I will engrave and publish." We were too numerous a party to transact business then, and the subject was adjourned. Fatigued and excited by this, I wrote for some hours, and at four walked out and paid my respects to young Dr. Henry at the Infirmary,--a nice young man,--and at five I found myself at Mr. Lizars', who at once began on the topic of my drawings, and asked why I did not publicly exhibit them. I told him how kind and generous the Institution at Liverpool had been, as well as Manchester, and that I had a letter of thanks from the Committees. He returned with me to my lodgings, read the letter, and we marched arm in arm from Mrs. Dickie's to Professor Jameson, who kept the letter, so he said, to make good use of it; I showed Mr. Lizars other letters of recommendation, and as he laid down the last he said: "Mr. Audubon, the people here don't know who you are at all, but depend upon it they _shall_ know." We then talked of the engraving of the Hawks, and it seems that it will be done. Perhaps even yet fame may be mine, and enable me to provide all that is needful for my Lucy and my children. Wealth I do not crave, but comfort; and for my boys I have the most ardent desire that they may receive the best of education, far above any that I possess; and day by day science advances, new thoughts and new ideas crowd onward, there is always fresh food for enjoyment, study, improvement, and I must place them where all this may be a possession to them.

_November 3, Friday._ My birds were visited by many persons this day, among whom were some ladies, artists, of both ability and taste, and with the numerous gentlemen came Professor James Wilson,[94] a naturalist, an agreeable man, who invited me to dine at his cottage next week. Mr. Lizars, who is certainly _mon bon cheval de bataille_, is exerting himself greatly in my behalf. At half-past three good Mr. Neill came, and together we walked towards his little hermitage, a sweet spot, quite out of town; nice garden, hot-house filled with exotics, and house-walls peopled by thousands of sparrows secure in the luxuriant masses of ivy that only here and there suffer the eye to see that the habitat is of stone. The Heron's sharp lance lay on his downy breast while he balanced on one leg, silent and motionless; the Kittiwake Gull screamed for food; the Cormorant greedily swallowed it; whilst the waddling Gannet welcomed her master by biting his foot, the little Bantams and the great rooster leaped for the bread held out, the faithful Pigeon cooed to his timid mate, and the huge watch-dog rubbed against the owner's legs with joy. We entered the house, other guests were there, and full of gayety we sat down to a sumptuous dinner. Eyes sparkled with wit, sense, knowledge. Mr. Combe[95] who was present has a head quite like our Henry Clay. My neighbor, Mr. Bridges,[96] is all life; but after a few observations concerning the birds of our woods he retired to let the world know that many of them are arrived in Scotland. It is unanimously agreed that I must sit for my portrait to Mr. Syme,[97] and that friend Lizars must engrave it to be distributed abroad. On my return to my lodgings I was presented with some pears and apples of native growth, somewhat bigger than green peas; but ah! this is both ungrateful and discourteous. To-morrow I am to meet Lord Somebody, and Miss Stephens; she was called "that delicious actress" so fervently and so frequently by my learned friends that I reverse my judgment, or will at least suspend it, until I see more of her.

_November 4, Saturday._ Now had I the faculties of my good friend Mr. Bridges, I should be able to write all that I feel towards him and the good people of this romantic Edina's Academic Halls; I would set to, and write long accounts of all I have enjoyed this day. But, alas! poor me! I can only scratch a few words next to unintelligible, and simply say that my little room has been full all day of individuals good, great, and friendly, and I am very wearied to-night; it is now past one. I dined at Mr. Lizars', where were beauties, music, conviviality, and wit. I am working hard withal; I do with four hours' sleep, keep up a great correspondence, keep up my journal, and write many hours on the letter-press for my "Birds" which is almost done.

_November 5, Sunday._ At ten o'clock my room was filled with visitors. Friend Bridges came, and stayed a long time. Miss Stephens the actress and her brother also paid me a visit. Mr. Bridges insisted on my going home to dine with him at four, and I never perceived I was in my slippers till I reached the port of destination. A Mr. Hovey dined with us. Mrs. Bridges is a stately, handsome lady, and the _diner en famille_ pleased me exceedingly. I saw quite a stock of pictures and engravings, well selected by my knowing friend. I returned home early and found a note from Mr. John Gregg, who came himself later bringing me a _scrubby_ letter from Charles Waterton,[98] and a sweet little sketch from fair Ellen of Quarry Bank. I was delighted to see him; it seemed like _old times_ to me. With all this I am by no means in spirits to write, I am so alone in this strange land, so far from those I love the best, and the future rises ofttimes dark before me.

_Monday, November 6._ The same sad heart to-day, and but little work and much company. I was glad, however, to see those who came, among others my coach companion from Manchester, Mr. Walton, who invited me in a very friendly manner to see him often. It snowed this morning, and was quite a new sight to me, for I have not seen any for about five years--I think. The papers give such accounts of my drawings and of myself that I am quite ashamed to walk the streets; but I am dispirited and melancholy.

_Sunday, November 19._ I do not know when I have thus pitilessly put away my journal for nearly two weeks. My head and heart would not permit me to write, so I must try to _memorandum_ now all I have _seen_. What I have _felt_ is too much for me to write down, for when these attacks of depression overwhelm me life is almost unendurable. Every day I exhibited my drawings to those who came to see them. I had many noblemen, among whom I especially liked Sir Patrick Walker and his lady; but I welcomed all ladies, gentlemen, artists, and, I dare say, critics. At last the Committee of the Royal Institution invited me to exhibit publicly in their rooms; I owe this invitation, I know, to the astonishing perseverance of some unknown friends. When my pictures were removed there I was no longer "At Home." I painted from dawn to dark, closely, and perhaps more attentively than I ever have done before. The picture was large, contained a Turkey Cock, a hen, and nine young, all the size of life. Mr. Lizars and his amiable wife visited me often; often I spent the evenings with them. Mr. David Bridges, Mr. Cameron, and several others had regular admittance, and they all saw the regular progress of my work; all, apparently, admired it. I dined at many houses, was always kindly received, and as far as my isolated condition and unfortunate melancholy permitted, enjoyed myself. It was settled by Mr. Lizars that he would undertake the publication of the first number of the "Birds of America," and that was enough to put all my powers of acting and thinking at fever heat. The papers also began to be more eulogistic of the merits of myself and my productions, and I felt bewildered with alternate uncertainties of hope and fear. I have received many letters from my dear Liverpool friends, and one, most precious of all, from the wonderful "Queen Bee" of Green Bank, with a most beautiful seal of the Wild Turkey and the motto "America, my country."[99] When my drawings were exhibited to the public, professors, students, artists, spoke well of them. I forwarded by post seventy-five tickets to the principal persons who had been kind to me, and to all the artists in Edinburgh. I sat once for my portrait, but my picture kept me at home ever since. I saw, and dined, and dined again with Sir William Jardine, and like him very much. He visited me frequently, and sat and stood watching me painting during his stay in the city. The famous phrenologist George Combe visited me also; spoke much of the truth of his theory as exhibited and verified by my poor skill; begged I would allow a cast of my head to be taken, etc., etc., and sent me a card of admission to his lectures this winter. The famous Professor Wilson of "Blackwood" fame, I might almost say the author of "Blackwood's Magazine," visited me also, and was very friendly; indeed, every one is kind, most truly so. How proud I feel that in Edinburgh, the seat of learning, science, and solidity of judgment, I am liked, and am received so kindly. How much I wish my Lucy could also enjoy it, that our sons might have partaken of it, this would have rendered each moment an age of pleasure. I have now determined to remain here till my first number is published, when I shall go to Liverpool again, with proofs in hand. I will forward some of this number to the friends at home as well as abroad, and will continue painting here the while, and watch the progress of the engravers and colorists; two drawings are now under the hand of the engraver, and God grant me success. I am going to try to find time to spend a week at Jardine Hall, and some days at Mrs. Fletcher's; it will remove me from the pressure and excitement to which I am hourly subjected, and be a complete change for me in every way.

_November 20._ Whilst my breakfast was preparing, and daylight improving, I sat at my little table to write a notice of descriptive import about my painting of the Wild Turkeys that now leaned against the wall of my room, _finished_. My breakfast came in, but my pen carried me along the Arkansas River, and so much did I long for my beloved country that not a morsel could I swallow. While writing, Mr. Bridges, who usually pays me a daily visit, happened to come in. I read my description and told him it was my intention to have it printed, or written out in a clear hand, to lay on the table of the exhibition room, for the use of the public. He advised me to go to Professor Wilson for criticism; so I went at once to his residence, and reached "Blackwood's" door about ten o'clock. I did not even ask if Professor Wilson was in; no, I simply told the man to say Mr. Audubon from America wished to speak with him. In a moment I was conducted to a room where I wished that all that had been written in it was my own to remember, to enjoy, to profit by; but I had not been here many minutes before a sweet child, a happy daughter of this great man, asked me to go upstairs, saying, "Papa will be there in a minute;" and truly, almost at once the Professor came in, with freedom and kindness of manner, life in his eye, and benevolence in his heart. My case was soon explained; he took my paper, read it, and said if I would allow him to keep it, he would make one or two alterations and return it in good time. Back to my lodgings and hungry by this time, and cooled off, my mind relieved, my painting finished, I dressed more carefully and walked to the Royal Institution, and was pleased at seeing there a good deal of company. But the disagreeable part of my day is yet to come. I had to dine at Professor Graham's,[100] it was five o'clock when I reached there, a large assembly of ladies and gentlemen were there, and I was introduced to Mrs. Graham only, by some oversight I am sure, but none the less was my position awkward. There I stood, motionless as a Heron, and when I dared, gazed about me at my surroundings, but no one came near me. There I stood and thought of the concert at Manchester; but there was this difference: _there_ I was looked at rudely, _here_ I was with polite company; so I waited patiently for a change of situation, and the change came. A woman, aye, an angel, spoke to me in such a quiet, easy way that in a few moments my _mal aise_ was gone; then the ringing of a bell summoned us to the dining-room; I sat near the blue satin lady (for her name I do not know) who came to my rescue, and a charming young lady, Miss M----, was my companion. But the sumptuous dinners of this country are too much for me. They are so long, so long, that I recall briefer meals that I have had, with much more enjoyment than I eat the bountiful fare before me. This is not a _gouter_ with friend Bourgeat on the Flat Lake, roasting the orange-fleshed Ibis, and a few sun-perch; neither is it on the heated banks of Thompson's Creek, on the Fourth of July, swallowing the roasted eggs of a large Soft-shelled Turtle; neither was I at Henderson, at good Dr. Rankin's, listening to the howlings of the Wolves, while sitting in security, eating well roasted and jellied venison,--no, alas! it was far from all these dear spots, in Great King Street, No. 62, at Dr. Graham's, a distinguished professor of botany, with a dinner of so many rich dishes that I cannot remember them.

_November 24._ I have just finished a long letter to Mr. Wm. Rathbone, telling him of my reception in beautiful Edinburgh, and my present plans, which are to publish one number at my own expense and risk, and with it under my arm, make my way. If I can procure three hundred good substantial names of persons or associations or institutions, I cannot fail doing well for my family; but, to do this, I must abandon my life to its success, and undergo many sad perplexities, and perhaps never again--certainly not for some years--see my beloved America. The work, from what I have seen of Mr. Lizars' execution, will be equal to anything in the world at present, and of the rest the world must judge for itself. I shall superintend both engraving and coloring personally, and I pray my courage may not fail; my industry I know will not. It is true the work will be procured only at a great expense, but then, a number of years must elapse before it is completed, so that renders payment an easier task. This is what I shall _try_; if I do not succeed I can return to my woods and there in peace and quiet live and die. I am sorry that some of my friends, particularly Dr. Traill, are against the pictures being the size of life, and I must acknowledge it renders the work rather bulky, but my heart was always bent on it, and I cannot refrain from attempting it. I shall publish the letter-press in a separate book, at the same time with the illustrations, and shall accompany the descriptions of the birds with many anecdotes and accounts of localities connected with the birds themselves, and with my travels in search of them. I miss my "Wild Turkeys," on which I worked steadily and from dawn to dark, a long time here,--for sixteen days. It would be impossible for me to write down all my feelings and thoughts about my work, or my life here; it may be that in time I shall be reconciled or habituated to the life I now lead, but I can scarce believe this, and often think the woods the only place in which I truly _live_.

_November 25, 1826._ I have been drawing all day at some Wood Pigeons, as they are emphatically called here, though woods there are none. The day was cold, wet, and snowy. Mr. Lizars, however, called with Dr. Brewster,[101] an eminent and entertaining man. I received a note from Geo. Combe, Esq., the phrenologist, who wishes to plaster my poor head to take an impression of the bumps, ordinary and extraordinary; he also invited me to sup with him on Monday next. I was to dine at Dr. Monroe's, Craiglockhart, near Slateford, so I dressed and sent for a coach that took me _two and a half_ miles for _twelve_ shillings, and I had to pay one shilling toll,--a dear dinner this. I arrived and entered a house richly furnished, and was presented to three ladies, and four gentlemen. The ladies were Mrs. Monroe, Miss Maria Monroe, and Mrs. Murray; amongst the gentlemen I at once recognized the amiable and learned Staff-Surgeon Lyons. Mrs. Monroe I found a woman of most extraordinary powers, a brilliant conversationalist, highly educated, and most attractive. She sat by me, and entertained me most charmingly, and the rest of her company as well. I need not say the dinner was sumptuous, for I find no other kind in hospitable Edinburgh. After dinner we had music from Miss Monroe, a skilled songstress, and her rich voice, with the pathetic Scotch ballads which she sang so unaffectedly, brought tears to my eyes. My return to my lodgings was very cold, for snow lies all about the hills that surround this enchanting city.

_Sunday, November 26._ I went to a Scotch church this morning, but it was cold and the services seemed to me cold also, but it may have been that I was unaccustomed to them. Snow lay thick on the ground and my lodgings looked cheerless, all but my picture, at which I worked on my return. I had put my work on the floor, and was standing on a chair to see the effect at a good distance, when Mrs. Lizars entered with her husband; they had come to invite me to dine with them on roasted sheep's-head (a Scotch dish), and I was glad to accept, for I was on the verge of a fit of depression, one of those severe ones when I am almost afraid to be alone in my lodgings; alone indeed I am, without one soul to whom I can open my heart. True, I have been alone before, but that was in beloved America, where the ocean did not roll between me and my wife and sons. At four, therefore, I reached James' Square and dined with these good people without pomp or ostentation; it is the only true way to live. Found the sheep's-head delicious, and spent the evening most agreeably. I was shown many beautiful sketches, and two plates of my birds well advanced. Mr. Lizars walked home with me; the weather was intensely cold, and the wind blew a gale; on turning a corner it almost threw me down, and although warmly dressed I felt the chill keenly. This morning seems a long way off, so many things have I thought of this day.

_Monday, November 27._ As soon as it dawned I was up and at work, and quite finished my drawing before breakfast. Mr. Syme came to see me, and was surprised to find it done. I had also outlined my favorite subject, the Otter in a trap. At twelve I went to _stand up_ for my picture, and sick enough I was of it by two; at the request of Mr. Lizars I wear my wolf-skin coat, and if the head is not a strong likeness, perhaps the coat may be; but this is discourteous of me, even to my journal. Mr. Lizars brought a Mr. Key, an artist, to throw a sky over my drawing, and the gentleman did it in handsome style, giving me some hints about this kind of work for which I am grateful. I dined at home on herrings, mutton-chops, cabbage, and fritters. As I am now going to sup with Mr. George Combe, I will write to-morrow what I may hear to-night. A kind note from Professor Jameson, whom I have not seen for some time, for he is a busy man, with a card of admittance to the Museum.

_Tuesday, 28th._ After writing thus far I left my room and went to watch the engravers at work on my birds. I was delighted to see how faithfully copied they were, and scarcely able to conceive the great "_adroit_" required to form all the lines exactly _contrary_ to the model before them. I took a cup of coffee with Mr. and Mrs. Lizars, went home to dress, and at nine was again with Mr. Lizars, who was to accompany me to Mr. Combe's, and reaching Brower Square we entered the dwelling of Phrenology! Mr. Scot, the president of that society, Mr. D. Stewart,[102] Mr. McNalahan, and many others were there, and also a German named Charles N. Weiss, a great musician. Mr. George Combe immediately asked this gentleman and myself if we had any objection to have our heads _looked at_ by the president, who had not yet arrived. We both signified our willingness, and were seated side by side on a sofa. When the president entered Mr. Combe said: "I have here two gentlemen of talent; will you please tell us in what their natural powers consist?" Mr. Scot came up, bowed, looked at Mr. Weiss, felt his head carefully all over, and pronounced him possessed of musical faculty in a great degree; I then underwent the same process, and he said: "There cannot exist a moment of doubt that this gentleman is a painter, colorist, and compositor, and I would add an amiable, though quick-tempered man." Much conversation ensued, we had supper, Miss Scot and Miss Combe were present, the only ladies. Afterwards Mr. Weiss played most sweetly on the flute, Mr. Scot sang Scotch airs, glees and madrigals followed, and it was after one o'clock when "Music and Painting" left the company arm in arm. I soon reached my lodgings. Mr. Weiss gave me a ticket to his concert, and Mrs. Dickie, who kindly sat up for me, gave me a ship letter. I hoped it was from my Lucy, but no, it was from Governor DeWitt Clinton; it was dated thirty days previous to my receiving it.

_Tuesday, 28th._ The fog was so dense this morning that at nine o'clock I could hardly see to write. I put the drawing of the Stock Pigeons in the Institution, framed superbly, and it looked well, I thought, even though so dark a day. I again _stood_ for my picture, two dreadfully long hours, and I am sure I hope it may prove a good resemblance to my poor self. Whilst yet in my hunting-dress, I received word that Sir Walter Scott was in the Institution and wished to see me; you may depend I was not long in measuring the distance, and reached the building quite out of breath, but to no purpose. Sir Walter had been compelled to go to preside at a meeting upstairs, and left an apology for me, and a request that unless too dark for him to see my work I would wait; but it very soon became quite dark, and I therefore abandoned all thought of meeting him this time. I dined at Mr. Lizars', and saw the first-proof impression of one of my drawings. It looked pretty well, and as I had procured one subscriber, Dr. Meikleham of Trinidad, I felt well contented.

_Wednesday, 29th._ The day was cloudy, and sitting for my portrait has become quite an arduous piece of business. I was positively in "durance vile" for two and a half hours. Just as I was finishing my dinner, Mrs. F----, the cousin of Mr. Gregg, called; ladies having the right to command, I went immediately, and found a woman whose features had more force and character than women generally show in their lineaments. Her eyes were very penetrating, and I was struck with the strength of all she said, though nothing seemed to be studied. She showed the effects of a long, well learned round of general information. She, of course, praised my work, but I scarce thought her candid. Her eyes seemed to reach my very soul; I knew that at one glance she had discovered my inferiority. The group of children she had with her were all fine-looking, but not so gracefully obedient as those of the beautiful Mrs. Rathbone of Woodcroft. She invited me to her home, near Roslyn, and I shall, of course, accept this courtesy, though I felt, and feel now, that she asked me from politeness more than because she liked _me_, and I must say the more I realized her intelligence the more stupid did I become. Afterwards I went to Mr. Lizars' to meet Dr. Meikleham, who wishes me to go with him to Trinidad, where I shall draw, so he says, four hundred birds for him, for a publication of "Birds of the West Indies." On Friday I go to Mrs. Isabella Murray's, to see her and some fine engravings. I have omitted to say that the first impression of the beautiful seal sent me by Mrs. Rathbone was sent to my beloved wife; the seal itself is much admired, and the workmanship highly praised. Mr. Combe has been to see me, and says my poor skull is a greater exemplification of the evidences of the truth of his system than any he has seen, except those of one or two whose great names only are familiar to me; and positively I have been so tormented about the shape of my head that my brains are quite out of sorts. Nor is this all; my eyes will have to be closed for about one hour, my face and hair oiled over, and plaster of Paris poured over my nose (a greased quill in each nostril), and a bust will be made. On the other hand, an artist quite as crazy and foolishly inclined, has said that my head was a perfect Vandyke's, and to establish this fact, my portrait is now growing under the pencil of the ablest artist of the science here. It is a strange-looking figure, with gun, strap, and buckles, and eyes that to me are more those of an enraged Eagle than mine. Yet it is to be engraved. Sir Walter Scott saw my drawings for a few moments yesterday, and I hope to meet him to-morrow when I dine with the Antiquarian Society at the Waterloo Hotel, where an annual feast is given. My work is proceeding in very good style, and in a couple of days colored plates will be at the exhibition rooms, and at the different booksellers; but with all this bustle, and my hopes of success, my heart is heavy, for _hopes_ are not _facts_. The weather is dull, moist, and disagreeably cold at times, and just now the short duration of the daylight here is shocking; the lamps are lighted in the streets at half-past three o'clock P. M., and are yet burning at half-past seven A. M.

_November 30._ My portrait was finished to-day. I cannot say that I think it a very good resemblance, but it is a fine picture, and the public must judge of the rest. I had a bad headache this morning, which has now passed; to be ill far from home would be dreadful, away from my Lucy, who would do more for me in a day than all the doctors in Christendom in a twelvemonth. I visited the exhibition rooms for a few minutes; I would like to go there oftener, but really to be gazed at by a crowd is, of all things, most detestable to me. Mr. Gregg called about four, also Mr. Bridges and an acquaintance of the famous "Alligator Rider," and I was told that Mr. Waterton said that Joseph Bonaparte imitated the manners and habits of his brother Napoleon; that is much more than I know or saw. But St. Andrew's Day and my invitation to dine with the Antiquarians was not forgotten. At five I was at Mr. Lizars', where I found Mr. Moule and we proceeded to the Waterloo Hotel. The sitting-room was soon filled; I met many that I knew, and a few minutes after the Earl of Elgin[103] made his _entree_, I was presented to him by Mr. Innes of Stow; he shook hands with me and spoke in a very kind and truly complimentary manner about my pencil's productions. At six we walked in couples to the dining-room; I had the arm of my good friend Patrick Neill, Mr. Lizars sat on my other side, and there was a sumptuous dinner indeed. It at first consisted entirely of Scotch messes of old fashion, such as marrow-bones, codfish-heads stuffed with oatmeal and garlic, black puddings, sheep's-heads smelling of singed wool, and I do not know what else. Then a _second_ dinner was served quite _a l'anglaise_. I finished with a bit of grouse. Then came on the toasts. Lord Elgin, being president and provided with an auctioneer's mallet, brought all the company to order by rapping smartly on the table with the instrument. He then rose, and simply said: "The King! four times four!" Every one rose to drink to the monarch's health, and the president saying, "Ip, ip, ip," sixteen cheers were loudly given. The Dukes of York, Argyle, and many others had their healths drunk, then Sir Walter Scott (who, to my great regret, was not able to be present), and so on and on, one and another, until mine was proposed by Mr. Skene,[104] the first secretary of the society. Whilst he was engaged in a handsome panegyric the perspiration poured from me, I thought I should faint; and I was seated in this wretched condition when everybody rose, and the Earl called out: "Mr. Audubon." I had seen each individual when toasted, rise, and deliver a speech; that being the case, could I remain speechless like a fool? No! I summoned all my resolution, and for the first time in my life spoke to a large assembly, saying these few words: "Gentlemen, my command of words in which to reply to your kindness is almost as humble as that of the birds hanging on the walls of your institution. I am truly obliged for your favors. Permit me to say, May God bless you all, and may this society prosper." I felt my hands wet with perspiration. Mr. Lizars poured me out a glass of wine and said: "Bravo! take this," which I gladly did. More toasts were given, and then a delightful old Scotch song was sung by Mr. Innes; the refrain was "Put on thy cloak about thee." Then Mr. McDonald sang. Wm. Allan, Esq.,[105] the famous painter, told a beautiful story, then rose, and imitated the buzzing of a bumble-bee confined in a room, and followed the bee (apparently) as if flying from him, beating it down with his handkerchief; a droll performance most admirably done. At ten, the Earl rose, and bid us farewell, and at half-past ten I proposed to Mr. Lizars to go, and we did. I was much pleased at having been a guest at this entertainment, particularly as Lord Elgin expressed a wish to see me again. I went to Mr. Lizars', where we sat chatting for an hour, when I returned to my lodgings and took myself to bed.

_December 1._ My portrait was hung up in the exhibition room; I prefer it to be gazed at rather than the original from which it was taken. The day was shockingly bad, wet, slippery, cold. I had to visit Lord Clancarty and his lady at noon, therefore I went. I met Mrs. M---- and her children and the eldest daughter of Mr. Monroe. Mrs. M---- began a long speech, telling me of her father, Lord S----, and his loyalty to the Stuarts; the details not only of that royal family but all the kings of England were being poured out, and I should probably be there yet, merely saying "Yes" from time to time, if a lucky interruption had not come in the form of a message from Lord Elgin, to say he desired to see me at the Institution. I soon reached that place, where I met Lord Elgin, in company with Secretary Skene and Mr. Hall the advocate, in the art room. Mr. Hall is nephew to Lady Douglas, and this gave me an opportunity to hand him her letter. But the best thing to relate is my breakfast with that wonderful man David Bridges. I was at his house at a quarter before nine; a daughter was practising the piano, the son reading, his wife, well-dressed, was sewing. I conversed with her and looked at the pictures till the door opened and my friend came in, attired in his _robe de chambre_, shook my hand warmly, and taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he began whisking and wiping chimney mantel, tables, chairs, desk, etc., to my utter annoyance, for I felt for the wife whose poor housewifery was thus exposed. After breakfast we walked to see my portrait and to criticise it, for both Mr. Lizars and Mr. Bridges are connoisseurs. In the evening I visited Mr. Howe, the editor of the "Courant" and then to the theatre with Mr. Bridges to see Wairner (?) perform "Tyke" in "The School of Reform." We met at the Rainbow Tavern, and soon entered the theatre, which was thinly attended; but I was delighted with the piece, and the performance of it, though we left before it was concluded to attend Mr. Weiss's concert in the Assembly Rooms in George Street. The flute playing was admirable both in execution and tone; Mr. Bridges supped with me. It is now again one o'clock, and I am quite worn out.

_December 2, Saturday._ The weather was a sharp frost till evening, when it rained. I was busy painting all day, and did not put foot out of doors till I went to dine with Dr. Brown, the professor of theology.[106] Mr. Bridges went with me, and told me that Professor Wilson had prepared a notice for "Blackwood's Magazine" respecting myself and my work. I think the servant who called out my name at Dr. Brown's must have received a most capital lesson in pronunciation, for seldom in my travels did I hear my name so clearly and well pronounced. Several other guests were present, Professor Jameson among them, and we passed a most agreeable evening. I must not forget that Sir James Hall and his brother called to receive information respecting the comfort that may be expected in travelling through my dear country.

_Sunday, December 3._ My good friends, Mr. and Mrs. Lizars came in as usual after church; they like the Otter better than the Turkeys. It was nearly finished, to the great astonishment of Mr. Syme and Mr. Cameron, who came to announce that the rooms at the Institution were mine till the 20th inst. Mr. Cameron looked long at the picture and said: "No man in either England or Scotland could paint that picture in so short a time." Now to me this is all truly wonderful; I came to this Europe fearful, humble, dreading all, scarce able to hold up my head and meet the glance of the learned, and I am praised so highly! It is quite unaccountable, and I still fear it will not last; these good people certainly give me more merit than I am entitled to; it can only be a glance of astonishment or surprise operating on them because my style is new, and somewhat different from those who have preceded me. Mr. Bridges, who knows everybody, and goes everywhere, went with me to dine with Mr. Witham of Yorkshire. We dined--had coffee--supped at eleven. At twelve the ladies left us; I wished to leave, but it was impossible. Dr. Knox said he wished to propose me as an honorary member of the Wernerian Society; our host said he would second the motion; my health was drunk, and I finally retired with Dr. Knox, leaving Mr. Bridges and the other gentlemen making whiskey toddy from that potent Scotch liquor which as yet I cannot swallow. It was now half-past two; what hours do I keep! Am I to lead this life long? If I do I must receive from my Maker a new supply of strength, for even my strong constitution cannot stand it.

_Monday, December 4._ I gave early orders to Mrs. Dickie to have a particularly good breakfast ready by nine o'clock because Mr. Witham had offered last night to come and partake of it with me; I then took to my brushes and finished my Otter entirely. I had been just thirteen hours at it, and had I labored for thirteen weeks, I do not think I should have bettered it. Nine o'clock--ten o'clock--and no Mr. Witham. I was to accompany him to Dr. Knox, whose lecture on Anatomy he was to hear. At last he came with many apologies, having already breakfasted, and giving me but ten minutes for my morning meal. We then hurried off, the weather beautiful, but extremely cold. We ascended the stairs and opened the door of the lecture room, where were seated probably one hundred and fifty students; a beating of feet and clapping of hands took place that quite shocked me. We seated ourselves and each person who entered the room was saluted as we had been, and during the intervals a low beating was kept up resembling in its regularity the footsteps of a regiment on a flat pavement. Dr. Knox entered, and all was as hushed as if silence had been the principal study of all present. I am not an anatomist. Unfortunately, no! I know almost less than nothing, but I was much interested in the lecture, which lasted three quarters of an hour, when the Dr. took us through the anatomical Museum, and his dissecting-room. The sights were extremely disagreeable, many of them shocking beyond all I ever thought could be. I was glad to leave this charnel house and breathe again the salubrious atmosphere of the streets of "Fair Edina." I was engaged most certainly to dine out, but could not recollect where, and was seated trying to remember, when the Rev. W. J. Bakewell, my wife's first cousin, and the son of Robert Bakewell the famous grazier and zoologist of Derbyshire, came in to see me. He asked many questions about the family in America, gave me his card and invited me to dine with him next Monday week, which is my first unengaged day. I had a letter from Mr. Monroe at Liverpool telling me I had been elected a member of the Literary and Philosophical Societies of that city. Not being able to recall where I was to dine, I was guilty of what must seem great rudeness to my intended hosts, and which is truly most careless on my part; so I went to Mr. Lizars, where I am always happy. The wild Turkey-cock is to be the large bird of my first number, to prove the necessity of the size of the work. I am glad to be able to retire at an early hour. It seems to me an extraordinary thing, my present situation in Edinburgh; looked upon with respect, receiving the attentions of the most distinguished people, and supported by men of science and learning. It is wonderful to me; am I, or is my work, deserving of all this?

_Tuesday, December 5._ After I had put my Otter in the exhibition room, I met Mr. Syme and with him visited Mr. Wm. Nicholson,[107] a portrait painter, and there saw, independent of his own work, a picture from the far-famed Snyders, intended for a Bear beset with dogs of all sorts. The picture had great effect, fine coloring, and still finer finishing, but the Bear was no Bear at all, and the dogs were so badly drawn, distorted caricatures that I am sure Snyders did not draw from specimens put in real postures, in my way. I was quite disappointed, so much had I heard of this man's pictures of quadrupeds, and I thought of Dr. Traill, who, although well acquainted with birds scientifically, told me he had an engraving of birds where both legs of each individual were put on the same side, and that he never noticed the defect till it was pointed out to him. This made me reflect how easily man can be impressed by general effect and beauty. I returned to the Institution and had the pleasure of meeting Captain Basil Hall,[108] of the Royal Navy, his wife, and Lady Hunter. They were extremely kind to me, and spoke of my dear friends the Rathbones and Greggs in terms which delighted me. The captain asked if I did not intend to exhibit by gaslight, and when I replied that the Institution had granted me so much favor already that I could not take it upon myself to speak of that, said that he should do so at once, and would let me know the answer from Mr. Skene, the secretary. I wrote the history of my picture of the Otter, and sent with a note to Professor Wilson, who had asked for it.

_Wednesday, December 6._ After breakfast I called on Professor Jameson, and as the Wild Turkey is to be in my first number, proposed to give him the account of the habits of the Turkey Buzzard instead; he appeared anxious to have any I would give. I spoke to him about the presentation of my name to the Wernerian Society; he said it was desirable for me to join it as it would attach me to the country, and he would give his aid gladly. I visited Captain Basil Hall of the Royal Navy; as I ascended the stairs to his parlor I heard the sweet sounds of a piano, and found Mrs. Hall was the performer. Few women have ever attracted me more at first sight; her youth and her fair face are in unison with her manners; and her husband also received me most kindly, especially when I recalled our previous slight acquaintance. I spent here a most agreeable hour. They spoke of visiting the States, and I urged them to do so. Captain Hall, a man of extraordinary talents, a great traveller, and a rich man, has made the most of all, and I found him the best of company. From thence to friend Neill's establishment in the Old Town to see at what time my memoranda must be ready for the press; to my astonishment I was told that to-morrow was my last day, and I ran home to scribble. Professor Monroe called on me with a friend and asked me what I would take to draw skulls, etc., for him; then Mr. Syme brought an engraver to consult with me on the subject of my portrait being immortalized. Young Gregg paid me a visit, and at last I dressed in a hurry and ran to Mr. Lizars' to know the way to Mr. Ritchie's, where I was to dine. Mr. Lizars sent a young man to show me the way, and I arrived at the appointed spot just one hour too late. I dined however, and dined well. Miss Scott was there, Miss Combe, Mr. Weiss, and several others; but when dinner was over and we ascended to the tea room, a crowd of ladies and gentlemen not before seen were in waiting to see the "Woodsman from America." We had music and dancing, and I did not leave till a late hour and must now write more for the printers. I must tell thee that someone gave a false note of one pound at my exhibition rooms, and therefore _I_ paid him well to see my birds. A man who met me to-day at the door of the Institution asked me if they were very well worth seeing. Dost thou think I said "Yes"? Not I! I positively said "No!" and off he went; but a few yards off I saw him stop to talk to another man, when he returned and went in.

_Thursday, December 7._ I wrote as hard as I could till early this morning, and finished the paper for Professor Jameson, who sent me a note desiring me to put down the University of Edinburgh as a subscriber to my work. I was highly pleased with this, being a powerful leader. I saw in this day's paper that Charles Bonaparte had arrived at Liverpool in the "Canada" from New York. How I longed to see him! Had I been sure of his remaining at Liverpool a few days, I positively would have gone there by the evening mail-coach. I saw to-day two of my drawings in proof; I was well pleased with them; indeed one of them I liked better than the first that were done. My dinner was at Mr. Howe's, the editor of the "Courant." Mr. Allan the artist came in at nine, when his lessons were just ended at the Academy of Arts,--an extremely agreeable man, full of gayety, wit, and good sense, a great traveller in Russia, Greece, and Turkey.

_Friday, December 8, 1826._ Men and their lives are very like the different growths of our woods; the noble magnolia, all odoriferous, has frequently the teasing nettle growing so near its large trunk as to sometimes be touched by it. Edinburgh contains a Walter Scott, a Wilson, a Jameson, but it contains also many nettles of the genus Mammalia, amongst which _men_ hold a very prominent station. Now I have run into one of these latter gentry. To speak out at once, one of my drawings was gently purloined last evening from the rooms of the Institution. So runs the fact; perhaps a few minutes before the doors closed a somebody in a large cloak paid his shilling, entered the hall and made his round, and with great caution took a drawing from the wall, rolled it up, and walked off. The porter and men in attendance missed it almost immediately, and this morning I was asked if I or Mr. Lizars had taken it to be engraved. I immediately told Mr. Lizars; we went to Mr. Bridges, and by his advice to the court, where Captain Robeson--who, by the way, was at the battle of New Orleans--issued a warrant against a young man of the name of I----, deaf and dumb, who was strongly suspected. Gladly would I have painted a bird for the poor fellow, and I certainly did not want him arrested, but the Institution guards were greatly annoyed at the occurrence. However, I induced Mr. Lizars to call on the family of the youth, which is a very good one and well known in Edinburgh. I returned to my lodgings and on the stairs met a beggar woman with a child in her arms, but passed her without much notice beyond pitying her in her youth and poverty, reached my door, where I saw a roll of paper; I picked it up, walked in, opened it, and found my drawing of the Black-poll Warbler! Is not this a curious story? The thief--whoever he may be, God pardon him--had, we conceived, been terror-struck on hearing of the steps we had taken, and had resorted to this method of restoring the drawing before he was arrested. I was in time to stop the warrant, and the affair was silenced. During the afternoon I was called on twice by Capt. Basil Hall, who was so polite as to present me with a copy of his work, two volumes, on South America, with a kind note, and an invitation to dine with him on Thursday next at eight o'clock. The weather is miserable.