crooked lines, and by their frequent tendency to a horizontal direction: these striking peculiarities are exemplified in the accompanying sketch. (fig. 17.) Not unfrequently, however, the forms of the limbs and branches are entirely concealed by the exuberancy of foliage, as is the case in the Bounds-Park oak, and more particularly in that magnificent living canopy,-nulli penetrabilis astro, impervious to the day,- (fully described in the Sylva Britannica), the Chandos oak at Southgate, which, although not exactly a painter's tree, is unquestionably unrivalled for regular beauty and plenitude of shade. The oak, also, is occasionally found to present an extremely graceful and pleasing figure, as is remarkably the case with the celebrated oak at Lord Cowper's, of which we subjoin a drawing. (fig. 18.) This tree, above a century ago, was well known as the great oak at Panshanger. There is also a beautiful tree, represented in the first of these sketches (fig. 13.), of the same description, at Lord Darnley's seat at Cobham, which, being protected from the depredations of cattle, enjoys the most perfect freedom of growth, extending "its latitude of boughs" in every direction, and drooping its clustered foliage to the very ground. (To be continued.) 4.3 PART II. REVIEWS. ART. I. Some Account of the Work now publishing by M. Audubon, entitled The Birds of America. By WILLIAM SWAINSON, Esq. F.R.S. F.L.S. &c. Dear Sir, I DREW up the enclosed notice of M. Audubon's publication, with the intention of sending it to you anonymously; but justice to its author, and a wish of assisting your infant Magazine, has since induced me to become the avowed writer. If, therefore, you desire it, you are at full liberty to use my name. This avowal may possibly have some weight with those, who may be tempted to think that praise has descended into flattery; and who are not aware that I have long aimed at that perfection, which M. Audubon has so fully attained. Tittenhanger-Green. I am, dear sir, Your faithful obedient servant, W. SWAINSON. In nothing is the inconsistency of mankind more striking than in their treatment of genius. In every generation arises one or two spirits, who seem destined to attain a marked preeminence in what they undertake; and to contradict the axiom, that knowledge advances by slow and imperceptible steps. Absorbed in the accomplishment of their object, or devoted to their particular study, they become blind to all considerations of a mere worldly nature. The advantages of interest, the acquirement of wealth, even the comforts of social life, are by such men despised or set at nought, if opposed to the ruling passion of their minds. To attain this, they will struggle against difficulties, apparently insurmountable, against discouragements innumerable, and against poverty itself. Yet how do the world receive such spirits? Let the page of history answer. In every age, however enlightened, and in every kingdom, however great, innumerable are the melancholy examples of its coldness, ingratitude, or apathy. Historians, philosophers, poets, painters, naturalists-have shared the same fate; have been neglected while living, and have sunk to the grave in obscurity or want. Yet no sooner are they placed beyond the joys or the sorrows of this world, than men's minds undergo a sudden change; they discover exalted merit in what was before ordinary talent; they lament over" departed genius," follow its poor remains, perhaps ostentatiously, to the grave, recite eulogiums on the departed, and finally erect a splendid monument over his ashes -a memorial of unavailing honours to the dead, and of silent reproach to the living. Such has been the usual fate of genius, in every age and in every country. The observation may be trite; but, like many other things, we require to have it forced on our recollections. That there are great and striking exceptions, where genius, during life, has been appreciated and rewarded, is a gratifying fact. The more so, as it goes far to account for its frequent neglect, when living. Mankind, in general, are prone to acknowledge merit when it becomes strikingly conspicuous more particularly in matters that are within the comprehension of the many; or where it concerns the comforts, amusements, or interests of the whole community. The safety-lamp immediately raised its discoverer to eminence and the perfecting of the steam-engine secured wealth and honour to him who achieved it. But where genius is employed on pursuits of a less popular nature, pursuits which belong solely to our intellectual gratification, it is less perceived, for its merits can be known to few. Even among these, it has not unfrequently to contend against party feeling, personal envy, or secret jealousy. In matters of taste, the great bulk of mankind, not having the power to judge for themselves, rely on the opinion of those few who can point out what is excellent. They may be often, indeed, misled by such guides; but the public, in the end, generally arrive at a just conclusion. If once their attention is awakened to unquestionable merit, they are seldom backward in acknowledging and rewarding it. To awaken this attention, however, is the great difficulty. So many are the candidates, and so numerous are their claims, that, unless a writer has the influence of the press, or the patronage of the booksellers, he has but little chance of success. Besides, people in general are so taken up with their own immediate pursuits, that they can seldom afford attention to other matters, unless they are actually brought before them. I must confess that such has been my case with the work I am to notice. I never saw it announced in the booksellers' lists, exhibited in the London print-shops, or lauded in the Literary Gazette; neither did its prospectus swell the bulk of the Quarterly. A short notice of the first number in a scientific journal * excited no particular interest in my mind; and, but for other circumstances, it is probable I should have known as little about it, as the public seem to do at this moment. Nevertheless, I had heard enough of the author, to excite the greatest interest in his history. M. Audubon, if I have been rightly informed, is a citizen of America, descended from French parents. Devotedly attached to the study of nature, no less than to painting, he seems to have pursued both with a genius and an ardour, of which, in their united effects, there is no parallel. His two ornithological narratives, printed in one of the Scotch journals, are as valuable to the scientific world as they are delightful to the general reader; they give us a rich foretaste of what we may hope and expect from such a man. There is a freshness and an originality about these essays, which can only be compared to the animated biographies of Wilson. Both these men contemplated Nature as she really is, not as she is represented in books: they sought her in her sanctuaries. The shore, the mountain, and the forest were alternately their study, and there they drank the pure stream of knowledge at its fountain-head. The observations of such men are the corner stones of every attempt to discover the natural system. Their writings will be consulted when our favourite theories shall have passed into oblivion. Ardently, therefore, do I hope, that M. Audubon will alternately become the historian and the painter of his favourite objects; that he will never be made a convert to any system, but instruct and delight us as a true and unprejudiced biographer of Nature. I am now to speak of M. Audubon more particularly as a painter. I shall, therefore, view the work before me as a specimen of the fine arts, and judge it by those rules which constitute pictorial criticism. The size of the plates, exceeds any thing of the kind I have either seen or heard of; they are no less than 3 ft. 3 in. long, by 2 ft. 2 in. broad! On this vast surface every bird is represented in its full dimensions. Large as is the paper, it is sometimes (as in the male wild turkey, pl. 1.) barely sufficient for the purpose. In other cases it enables the painter to group his figures, in the most beautiful and varied attitudes, on the trees or plants they frequent. Some are feeding, others darting, pursuing, or capturing their prey; all have life and animation. The plants, fruit, and flowers which enrich the scene, are alone still. These latter, # from their critical accuracy, are as valuable to the botanist as the birds are to the ornithologist. The early plates are executed by Lizars, the latter ones by the Havells, in an open, free style, well adapted for colouring. This latter process is, in most instances, performed faithfully; but a little more attention on the part of the colourer, in copying the exact tint, would be desirable. Such is the general character of the work, but it is of a nature to demand a more particular notice. What I have said might, in a general way, be repeated of others. This, as I shall presently show, is perfectly unique, both in its conception and execution. To explain this, I call the reader's attention to the following plates, or rather pictures: The female Wild Turkey and her Young. (Pl. 6.) — The immense size of the principal figure (which will barely come within the paper) has obviously fettered the artist in his choice of attitude. If not graceful, it is nevertheless easy and natural, while the details are perfectly accurate. But the great merit of the picture lies in the brood of young ones, collected round the mother, and variously employed. Some are picking the leaves of plants, others looking about for insects (fig. 19.), one is trimming its tail, and all are busy. The grouping of |