To Be A Good Draftsman Was To

But The Moment A Bird Was Dead, No Matter How Beautiful It Had Been In Life, The Pleasure Of Possession Became Blunted For Me.

I Discover That My Friends Think Only Of My Apparel, And Those Upon Whom I Have Conferred Acts Of Kindness Prefer To Remind Me Of My Errors.

Look At That Mallard As He Floats On The Lake; See His Elevated Head Glittering With Emerald Green, His Amber Eyes Glancing In The Light! Even At This Distance, He Has Marked You, And Suspects That You Bear No Goodwill Towards Him, For He Sees That You Have A Gun, And He Has Many A Time Been Frightened By Its Report, Or That Of Some Other. The Wary Bird Draws His Feet Under His Body, Springs Upon Then, Opens His Wings, And With Loud Quacks Bids You Farewell.

I Looked Long And Carefully At The Picture Of A Stag Painted By Landseer - The Style Was Good, And The Brush Was Handled With Fine Effect, But He Fails In Copying Nature, Without Which The Best Work Will Be A Failure.

On Landing At New York I Caught The Yellow Fever By Walking To The Bank At Greenwich To Get The Money To Which My Father's Letter Of Credit Entitled Me. The Kind Man Who Commanded The Ship That Brought Me From France, Whose Name Was A Common One, John Smith, Took Particular Charge Of Me, Removed Me To Morristown, N. J., And Placed Me Under The Care Of Two Quaker Ladies Who Kept A Boarding - House. To Their Skilful And Untiring Ministrations I May Safely Say I Owe The Prolongation Of My Life.