Chance, and chance alone, had divided my drawings into three different classes, depending upon the magnitude of the objects to be represented; and, although I did not at that time possess all the specimens necessary, I arranged them as well as I could into parcels of five plates—I improved the whole as much as was in my power; and as I daily retired farther from the haunts of man, determined to leave nothing undone, which my labor, my time, or my purse could accomplish.[317]

Audubon's journal kept on the lakes has been lost, but that journey was fresh in mind when he wrote the following letter to Edward Harris.[318]

Audubon to Edward Harris

Beechwoods. Near Bayou Sara, La.
Jany. 31 1825.

Surely I have not dismerited your esteem; when on the Lakes, both Ontario and Champlain, I wrote to you—again from Pittsburgh, all without any answer, and I am sorry to say that I have been either abandoned or forgotten by all those other persons who had promised to keep up a correspondence with me....

The country I visited was new, in great measure, to me. I have been delighted with the tour, but will forever regret that your sister's indisposition could not allow you time to augment my pleasure by your company.

[Audubon offers to send his friend shrubs and fruits from the South, and concludes;] In fact, my dear Mr. Harris, I am yet the same man you knew at the corner of 5th, and Minor Streets [in Philadelphia], and will continue forever the same.

After his tour of the Lakes Audubon returned to Pittsburgh, and on October 24, 1824, started down the Ohio in a skiff, intending to descend to the Mississippi and thence reach his family in Louisiana. Bad weather and lack of funds interfered with this plan, and ere long he was once more stranded in Cincinnati, where he was beset by claimants for payment upon articles ordered for the Western Museum five years before. Finding it difficult at this time to replenish an empty purse, Audubon felt that he must borrow fifteen dollars, but could not make up his mind how to ask the favor until he had several times walked past the house where he had once been known. Nevertheless, he succeeded in obtaining the necessary funds, took passage on a boat bound for Louisville, and slept cheerfully that night on a pile of shavings which he managed to scrape together on deck. "The spirit of contentment which I now feel," he wrote, "is strange; it borders on the sublime; and, enthusiastic or lunatic, as some of my relatives will have me, I am glad to possess such a spirit"; later he added: "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."

Louisville was reached on November 20, and a number of days were spent in visiting his eldest son, Victor, who was then at Shippingport.[319] He finally arrived at Bayou Sara in late November, 1824. The captain of his vessel, which was bound for New Orleans, put him ashore at midnight, and he was left to grope his way to the village on the hill. St. Francisville, to his dismay, was nearly deserted, a scourge of yellow fever having driven most of its inhabitants to the pine woods. The postmaster, however, was able to assure him that his wife and son were well, and Mr. Nübling, a friendly German, whom he described as "a man of cultivation and taste, and a lover of Natural Science," gave him refreshment and a horse. In his eagerness to cover the fifteen miles to the Percy house as rapidly as possible, he tried to strike a straight course through the dark forest, but missed his way, and dawn found him on unfamiliar ground; he then learned from a negro that he was two miles beyond the place. When he arrived at last "with rent and wasted clothes, and uncut hair, and altogether looking like the wandering Jew," his wife was busily engaged in teaching her pupils. During his absence of nearly fourteen months she had prospered greatly, and she was not only ready but eager to place her earnings at her husband's disposal.

When he had finally decided to take his drawings to Europe for publication, Audubon set to work to increase his capital, and soon had pupils in French, music, and drawing, while a dancing class of sixty was organized in a neighboring town. His country lads and lassies proved rather awkward material, and he broke his bow and nearly ruined his violin in his impatience to evoke a single graceful step or motion; when, however, he consented to dance to his own music, he never failed to bring down thunders of applause. These efforts were continued for over a year, until he had realized a considerable sum. With this money in hand, supplemented by what his wife could spare, he determined to seek his fortunes in the Old World.