After some two years more of tramping the woods, making crayon portraits in exchange for a night's lodging or for his fare on a flatboat on the river, he got back to Louisiana. Mrs. Audubon's school had been successful. 5 She had earned and saved three thousand dollars, which she put into her husband's hands. But this sum was still hardly enough to pay for the publication of the drawings; so Audubon gave dancing lessons for a time, and then with about five thousand dollars in his pocket sailed for 10 England to have his drawings published.

It would take too long to tell you of all the trials and struggles that he passed through in England before the work was done. The engravings cost more than he had expected, and he had to go out and sell enough sets 15 in advance to make up the sum required. While waiting for the engravers he was up every morning at four o'clock, painting pictures and selling them from house to house before the paint was dry, accepting whatever he could get for them—often barely enough to pay his 20 board. But at last the great work, "Birds of America,' was published, and Audubon was famous. It was the finest collection of bird pictures that had ever been made, and it brought him enough money to enable him to live in comfort for the rest of his days.

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With the first money that was put into his hands he brought Mrs. Audubon to England, and there he wrote a book to accompany his engravings. This he called

"Ornithological Biography," which means simply Life Stories of Birds. From it we have taken our selection about the Baltimore oriole.

In 1842 the Audubons returned to America and bought a beautiful home on the banks of the Hudson just above 5 New York. The two sons had now grown up and married and brought their wives home; and as the fairy stories say, "they lived happily together ever after." But Audubon, though now more than sixty, made other journeys, one as far west as the Yellowstone River, and discovered 10 yet other birds, and began a great work on the "Quadrupeds of North America," which his sons finished after his death.]

No traveler can ascend that extraordinary river, the Mississippi, in the first days of autumn, without feeling 15 enchanted by the varied vegetation which adorns its shores the tall cotton tree descending to the very margin of the stream, the arrow-shaped ash mixing its branches with those of the pecan and black walnut, immense oaks and numerous species of hickory covering with their foli- 20 age the densely tangled canes, from amongst which, at every step, vines of various kinds shoot up, winding round the stems and interlacing their twigs and tendrils, stretching from one branch to another until they have reached and overspread the whole like a verdant canopy, 25 forming one solid mass of richest vegetation in the

foreground of the picture; whilst wherever the hills are in view, the great magnolias, the hollies, and the noble pines are seen gently waving their lofty heads to the breeze.

5 Now we have ascended the mighty river, have left it and entered the still more enchanting Ohio, and yet never for a day have we been without the company of the oriole. Here amongst the pendulous branches of the lofty tulip trees it moves gracefully up and down, seek10 ing in the expanding leaves and opening blossoms the caterpillar and the green beetle, which generally contribute to its food.

The Baltimore oriole arrives from the south, perhaps from Mexico, or perhaps from a more distant region, and 15 enters Louisiana as soon as spring commences there. It approaches the planter's house and searches amongst the surrounding trees for a suitable place in which to settle for the season. It prefers, I believe, the trees that grow on the sides of a gentle declivity. The choice of a twig 20 being made, the male oriole becomes extremely conspicuous. He flies to the ground, searches for the longest and driest filaments of the moss, which in that state is known by the name of Spanish beard, and whenever he finds one fit for his purpose, ascends to the favorite spot where 25 the nest is to be, uttering all the while a continued chirrup, which seems to imply that he knows no fear, but on the contrary fancies himself the acknowledged

king of the woods. This sort of chirruping becomes louder and is emitted in an angry tone, whenever an enemy approaches or the bird is accidentally surprised, the sight of a cat or a dog being always likely to 5 produce it.

No sooner does the bird reach the branches than with bill and claws, aided by an astonishing sagacity, he fastens one end of the moss to a twig with as much art as a

sailor might do and takes up the other end, which he 10 secures also, but to another twig a few inches off, leaving

the thread floating in the air like a swing, the curve of which is perhaps seven or eight inches from the twigs. The female comes to his assistance with another filament of moss, or perhaps some cotton thread or other fibrous 15 substance, inspects the work which her mate has done, and immediately commences her operations, placing each thread in a contrary direction to those arranged by her lordly mate, and making the whole cross and recross so as to form an irregular network.

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The nest has now been woven from the bottom to the top and so secured that no tempest can carry it off without breaking the branch to which it is suspended. Remark what follows. This nest contains no warming substance such as wool, cotton, or cloth, but is almost entirely com25 posed of the Spanish moss, interwoven in such a manner

that the air can easily pass through it. The parents no doubt are aware of the intense heat which will exist ere