Mrs. Audubon now made an engagement with a lady at Bayou Sara, to teach her children with her own, and a limited number of pupils. Seeing that his family would now be provided for, "I determined," he says, "to break through all bonds, and pursue my ornithological pursuits. My best friends solemnly regarded me as a madman, and my wife and family alone gave me encouragement. My wife determined that my genius should prevail, and that my final success as an ornithologist should be triumphant." Blessed faith of woman! Giving a love that knows only self-sacrifice; that braves all, bears all, and finally wins all for its beloved object. The oldest son, Victor, was placed in the counting-house of a friend at Louisville, and Audubon sought Philadelphia, "as a desperate venture," he says, to see if means could not be obtained to further his work. He took a room, and began to give lessons in drawing. He said plaintively in his journal, "I have now been twenty-five years pursuing my ornithological studies," and yet the book was not written. Fortunately he obtained a letter of introduction to the portrait-painter Sully, "a man after my own heart, and who showed me great kindnesses." He gave Audubon instruction in oil, and would take no pay for it, and the naturalist was "overwhelmed with his goodness." Audubon found another warm-hearted friend,--Edward Harris,--a young ornithologist, who, as he was bidding Audubon good-by, squeezed a hundred-dollar bill into his hand, saying, "Mr. Audubon, accept this from me; men like you ought not to want for money." "I could only express my gratitude," says Audubon, "by insisting on his receiving the drawings of all my French birds, which he did, and I was relieved." A friend now took him to visit Mill Grove. "As we entered the avenue leading to Mill Grove," he says, "every step brought to my mind the memory of past years, and I was bewildered by the recollections until we reached the door of the house, which had once been the residence of my father as well as myself.... After resting a few moments, I abruptly took my hat, and ran wildly towards the woods, to the grotto where I first heard from my wife the acknowledgment that she was not indifferent to me. It had been torn down, and some stones carted away; but, raising my eyes toward heaven, I repeated the promise we had mutually made. We dined at Mill Grove, and as I entered the parlor I stood motionless, for a moment, on the spot where my wife and myself were forever joined."