siast in my admiration of the rural scenery of nature; but, since your example and encouragement have set me to attempt to imitate her productions, I see new beauties in every bird, plant, and flower I contemplate; and find my ideas of the incomprehensible First Cause still more exalted the more minutely I examine His works. 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 forever 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 it does not altogether tally. I receive every subject of natural history that is brought to me, and although 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 five-penny-bits, to make them find the way fast enough. A boy, not long ago, brought me a large basket full 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 that 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 untied it, and restored it to life and liberty. The agonies of a prisoner at the stake, while the fire and instruments of torment 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 on the mind when she triumphs over cruelty.

THE BALD EAGLE.

This distinguished bird, as he is the most beautiful of his tribe in this part of the world, and the adopted emblem of our country, is entitled to particular notice. He has been long known to naturalists, being common to both continents, and occasionally met with from a very high northern latitude to the borders of the

torrid zone, but chiefly in the vicinity of the sea and along the shores and cliffs of our lakes and large rivers. Formed by nature for braving the severest cold; feeding equally on the produce of the sea and of the land; possessing powers of flight capable of outstripping even the tempests themselves; unawed by any thing but man; and, from the ethereal heights to which he soars, looking abroad, at one glance, on an immeasurable expanse of forests, fields, lakes, and ocean, deep below him, he appears indifferent to local changes of season, as, in a few minutes, he can pass from summer to winter, from the lower to the higher regions of the atmosphere, the abode of eternal cold, and thence descend at will to the torrid or the arctic regions of the earth. He is therefore found at all seasons in the countries which he inhabits, but prefers such places as have been mentioned above, from the great partiality he has for fish.

he seems

In procuring these, he displays, in a very singular manner, the genius and energy of his character, which is fierce, contemplative, daring, and tyrannical, attributes not exerted but on particular occasions, but, when put forth, overwhelming all opposition. Elevated upon a high, dead limb of some gigantic tree, that commands a wide view of the neighboring shore and ocean, calmly to contemplate the motions of the various feathered tribes that pursue their busy avocations below, the snow-white gulls, slowly winnowing the air; the busy sand-pipers, coursing along the beach; trains of ducks, streaming over the surface; silent and watchful cranes, intent and wading; clamorous crows, and all the winged multitudes that subsist by the bounty of this vast liquid magazine of nature. High over all these hovers one whose action instantly arrests his attention. By his wide curvature of wing and sudden suspension in air, he knows him to be the fish-hawk, settling over some devoted victim of the deep. His eye kindles at the sight, and, balancing himself with half-opened wings on the branch, he watches the result. Down, rapid as an arrow from heaven, descends the distant object of his attention, the roar of its wings reaching the ear as it disappears in the deep, making the surges foam around. At this moment the looks of the eagle are all ardor, and, levelling his neck for flight, he sees the fish-hawk emerge, struggling with his prey, and mounting into the air with screams of exultation. These are the signal for our hero, who, launching into the air, instantly gives chase, and soon gains on the fish-hawk. Each exerts his utmost to mount above the other, displaying, in these rencounters, the most elegant and sublime aerial evolutions. The unencumbered eagle rapidly advances, and is just on the point of reaching his opponent, when, with a sudden scream, probably of despair and honest execration, the latter drops his fish; the eagle, poising himself for a moment as if to take a

more certain aim, descends like a whirlwind, snatches it in his grasp ere it reaches the water, and bears his ill-gotten booty silently away to the woods.

THE MOCKING-BIRD.

The plumage of the mocking-bird, though none of the homeliest, has nothing gaudy or brilliant in it, and, had he nothing else to recommend him, would scarcely entitle him to notice; but his figure is well proportioned and even handsome. The ease, elegance, and rapidity of his movements, the animation of his eye, and the intelligence he displays in listening, and laying up lessons from almost every species of the feathered creation within his hearing, are really surprising, and mark the peculiarity of his genius. To these qualities we may add that of a voice full, strong, and musical, and capable of almost every modulation, from the clear, mellow tones of the wood-thrush to the savage screams of the bald eagle. In measure and accent, he faithfully follows his originals; in force and sweetness of expression, he greatly improves upon them. In his native groves, mounted upon the top of a tall bush or half-grown tree, in the dawn of dewy morning, while the woods are already vocal with a multitude of warblers, his admirable song rises pre-eminent over every competitor. The ear can listen to his music alone, to which that of all the others seems a mere accompaniment. Neither is this strain altogether imitative. His own native notes, which are easily distinguishable by such as are well acquainted with those of our various birds of song, are bold and full, and varied seemingly beyond all limits. They consist of short expressions of two, three, or, at the most, five or six syllables, generally interspersed with imitations, and all of them uttered with great emphasis and rapidity, and continued, with undiminished ardor, for half an hour or an hour at a time. His expanded wings and tail, glistening with white, and the buoyant gayety of his action, arrest the eye, as his song most irresistibly does the ear. He sweeps round with enthusiastic ecstasy, he mounts and descends, as his song swells or dies away, and, as Mr. Bartram has beautifully expressed it, "he bounds aloft with the celerity of an arrow, as if to recall his very soul, which expired in the last elevated strain." While thus exerting himself, a bystander destitute of sight would suppose that the whole feathered tribes had assembled together on a trial of skill, each striving to produce his utmost effect, so perfect are his imitations. He many times deceives the sportsman, and sends him in search of birds that, perhaps, are not within miles of him, but whose notes he exactly imitates. Even birds themselves are frequently imposed on by this admirable mimic, and are decoyed by

the fancied calls of their mates, or dive with precipitation into the depths of thickets, at the scream of what they suppose to be the sparrow-hawk.

The mocking-bird loses little of the power and energy of his song by confinement. In his domesticated state, when he commences his career of song, it is impossible to stand by uninterested. He whistles for the dog; Cæsar starts up, wags his tail, and runs to meet his master. He squeaks out like a hurt chicken, and the hen hurries about, with hanging wings and bristled feathers, clucking, to protect her injured brood. He runs over the quaverings of the canary, and the clear whistlings of the Virginia nightingale or red-bird, with such superior execution and effect that the mortified songsters feel their own inferiority and become altogether silent, while he seems to triumph in their defeat by redoubling his exertions.

This excessive fondness for variety, however, in the opinion of some, injures his song. His elevated imitations of the brown thrush are frequently interrupted by the crowing of cocks; and the warblings of the blue-bird, which he exquisitely manages, are mingled with the screaming of swallows or the cackling of hens. Amidst the simple melody of the robin, we are suddenly surprised by the shrill reiterations of the whip-poor-will; while the notes of the kildeer, blue jay, marten, baltimore, and twenty others, succeed, with such imposing reality, that we look round for the originals, and discover, with astonishment, that the sole performer in this singular concert is the admirable bird now before us. During this exhibition of his powers, he spreads his wings, expands his tail, and throws himself around the cage in all the ecstasy of enthusiasm, seeming not only to sing, but to dance, keeping time to the measure of his own music. Both in his native and domesticated state, during the solemn stillness of the night, as soon as the moon rises in silent majesty, he begins his delightful solo, and serenades us with a full display of his vocal powers, making the whole neighborhood ring with his inimitable melody.

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, 1767-1848.

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, son of the second President of the United States, was born in Braintree, Massachusetts, on the 11th of July, 1767. In his eleventh year he accompanied his father to the Court of Versailles, and was with him also in some of his other missions. At the age of eighteen, he entered Harvard University at an advanced standing, and graduated with distinguished honor in 1787. After studying law three years with Judge Parsons, at Newburyport, he esta

blished himself in Boston, and took part in the public affairs of the day. In 1794, he was appointed by Washington Minister to the United Netherlands, and remained in Europe till 1801, employed in the several offices of Minister to Holland, England, and Prussia, and in other diplomatic business. At the close of his father's administration he was recalled, and, in 1802, was chosen, from the Boston district, a member of the Massachusetts Senate, and soon after was elected a United States Senator for six years from March 4, 1803. While Senator, he was, in 1806, appointed Professor of Rhetoric in Harvard University,-an office which he filled with much ability till 1809, when he was appointed by President Monroe Minister to the Court of Russia. In 1813, he was named at the head of five commissioners appointed by President Madison to negotiate a treaty of peace with Great Britain, which was signed at Ghent, in December, 1814; and soon after he was appointed, by the same President, Minister to the Court of St. James. After having occupied that post until the close of President Madison's administration, he was called home, in 1817, to the Department of State, at the formation of the Cabinet of President Monroe. Mr. Adams's career as a foreign minister terminated at this point,-a career that has never been paralleled either in the length of time it covered, the number of courts at which he represented his country, or the variety and importance of the services rendered.

In 1824, Mr. Adams was elected President of the United States. His administration was distinguished for its ability and economy; and the Presidential chair has been occupied by no man of greater learning, more thorough acquaintance with all our foreign and domestic relations, purer patriotism, or higher integrity of character. At the close of his Presidential term, in 1829, he retired to his family mansion in Quincy; but he was soon after elected member of the United States House of Representatives, and took his seat in 1831. Many of his friends doubted the wisdom of this step, and feared it would detract from his former fame rather than add to it. But their doubts were soon put to rest; for, signal as had been his services to his country for a long life, he was yet to put the crowning glory upon them all, by standing forth in the House of Representatives, amid abuse, reproach, and threats of expulsion, as the firm, able, undaunted champion of the right of petition.

During the years 1836 and 1837, the public mind in the Northern States became fully aroused to the enormities of American slavery,-its encroachments on the rights and interests of the free States, the undue influence it was exercising in our national councils, and the evident determination on the part of its advocates to enlarge its borders and its evils, by the addition of new slave territories. Petitions for the abolition of slavery and the slave-trade in the District of Columbia and the Territories began to pour into Congress from every section of the East and North. These were generally presented by Mr. Adams. His age and experience, his well-known influence in the House of Representatives, his patriotism, and his intrepid advocacy of human freedom, commanded the confidence of the people of the free States, and led them to intrust to him their petitions; and with scrupulous fidelity he performed the duty thus imposed upon him.

The Southern members of Congress became alarmed at these demonstrations,

1 His Lectures on Rhetoric and Oratory were published, in one volume 8vo, in 1810.