Audubon, to be sure, was never much of a closet naturalist or an admirer of stuffed specimens; but in reading this criticism of an estranged friend, one wonders if the writer had really forgotten that while his own expressed desire in going to Paris in 1828 was to study in the Museum, Audubon's sole purpose was to extend his subscription list; that after innumerable interviews with ministers of state and running from post to pillar for two months, his friend was obliged to come away with but thirteen additional names or orders for his work. Had Swainson also forgotten that during all that time Audubon acted as his interpreter, assisting him in all his visits and purchases, and that but shortly after, when hard pressed for money, he had called on Audubon for a considerable sum? As a parting shot to his former friend, Swainson also said: He can shoot a bird, and make it live again, as it were, upon canvass; but he cannot describe it in scientific, and therefore in perfectly intelligible terms. Hence he found it necessary, in this part of his work, to call in the aid of others; but being jealous that any other name should appear on the title page than his own, he was content with the assistance of some one who, very good naturedly, would fall in with his humour. What was here said of Audubon might have been true in 1830, but it was not true in 1840. Swainson could never understand that his friend was a man who never stood still. Audubon drew heavily upon his more learned associates, and he could give as well as take. When working under the influence of a powerful motive, he improved as rapidly in his use of English words as he had in the finish and composition of his pictures; he soon came to write not only with fluency but at times with eloquence, and the technicalities of his science did not remain to him a sealed book, though for the drudgery of detailed description he had confessedly no stomach.