it, when for the first time I entered Mr. Bakewell's dwelling. It happened
that he was absent from home, and I was shown into a parlour where only one
young lady was snugly seated at her work by the fire. She rose on my
entrance, offered me a seat, assured me of the gratification her father
would feel on his return, which, she added, would be in a few moments, as
she would despatch a servant for him. Other ruddy cheeks and bright eyes
made their transient appearance, but, like spirits gay, soon vanished from
my sight; and there I sat, my gaze riveted, as it were, on the young girl
before me, who, half working, half talking, essayed to make the time
pleasant to me. Oh! may God bless her! It was she, my dear sons, who
afterwards became my beloved wife, and your mother. Mr. Bakewell soon made
his appearance, and received me with the manner and hospitality of a true
English gentleman. The other members of the family were soon introduced to
me, and Lucy was told to have luncheon produced. She now rose from her seat
a second time, and her form, to which I had paid but partial attention,
showed both grace and beauty; and my heart followed every one of her steps.
The repast over, dogs and guns were made ready.

"Lucy, I was pleased to believe, looked upon me with some favour, and I
turned more especially to her on leaving. I felt that certain '_Je ne
sais quoi_' which intimated that, at least, she was not indifferent to
me."

The winter that followed was a gay and happy one at Mill Grove; shooting
parties, skating parties, house parties with the Bakewell family, were of
frequent occurrence. It was during one of these skating excursions upon the
Perkiomen in quest of wild ducks, that Audubon had a lucky escape from
drowning. He was leading the party down the river in the dusk of the
evening, with a white handkerchief tied to a stick, when he came suddenly
upon a large air hole into which, in spite of himself, his impetus carried