made known to art he has represented our feathered tribes, building their nests and fostering their young; poised on the tip of the spray and hovering over the sedgy margin of the lake; flying in the clouds in quest of prey, or from pursuit; in love, enraged, indeed, in all the varieties of their motion and repose, and modes of life so perfectly, that all other works of the kind are to his as stuffed skins to the living birds. But he has also indisputable claims to a respectable rank as a man of letters. Some of his written pictures of birds, so graceful, clearly defined, and brilliantly colored, are scarcely inferior to the productions of his pencil. ... From the beginning he surrendered himself entirely to his favorite pursuit, and has been intent to learn everything from the prime teacher Nature. His style as well as his knowledge is a fruit of his experience." His personal appearance, as a reference to his portrait will show must have been the case, was calculated to impress a visitor. He is described as having been tall and commanding in person, with a countenance which, from the sharp glance of his eye and the outline of his features, "suggested a resemblance to the eagle." He is believed, from his own account, to have been somewhat of a dandy while he was living at Perkiomen. "It was one of my fancies," he says, "to be ridiculously fond of dress; to hunt in black satin breeches, wear pumps when shooting, and dress in the finest ruffled shirts I could obtain from France." When on his hunting-tours, as he records in the relation of a visit to Niagara, he would allow himself to get into the plight of the poorer class of Indians, and worse, from not having, like them, plucked his beard or trimmed his hair in any way. "Had Hogarth been living, and there, when I arrived, he could not have found a fitter subject for a Robinson Crusoe. My beard covered my neck in front, my hair fell much lower at my back; the leather dress which I wore had for months stood in need of repair; a large knife hung at my side; a rusty tin box, containing my drawings and colors, and wrapped up in a worn-out blanket that had served me for a bed, was buckled to my shoulders. To every one I must have seemed immersed in the depths of poverty, perhaps of despair." Some explanation was needed to convince the landlord of the hotel that he was a suitable subject for entertainment, but it seems to have been satisfactory. Christopher North says of him in the "Noctes Ambrosianæ," as he appeared at Edinburgh: "The man himself is just what you would expect from his productions; full of fine enthusiasm and intelligence, most interesting in his looks and manners, a perfect gentleman, and esteemed by all who know him for the simplicity and frankness of his nature."
