TRIBUTES TO THE MEMORY OF MR. DOAVNING. 



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471 



TuE following beautiful tribute to the late 

 editor of The Horticulturist, written by one of 

 its correspondents, Henry F. French, Esq., 

 of Exeter, N. H., is copied from the Home 

 Journal : 



Poor Downing is dead. In the dreadful ca- 

 lamity on the Hudson, which brought death to 

 so man\ and sorrow to the hearts of thousands 

 more, he whose name is associated with all 

 that is fresh and beautiful in nature — with the 

 starting grass and fragrant blossoms of spring- 

 time — with the rustling leaves and waving 

 branches of summer — with the clustering fruits 

 and yellow harvest of autumn — has perished 

 from the glad and beautiful earth; how much 

 more glad and beautiful because of the life of 

 him who has just jjassed away. 



He who, as a prophet, inspired with the very 

 genius of The Beautiful, taught us not only tlie 

 eternal principles of taste, and thus enabled our 

 judgments to appreciate its true manifestations, 

 but also infused into our hearts a genuine love 

 for what is lovely — giving to the eye a new 

 light in the glancing of the moonlit water, and 

 in the rainbow-hue of every dew-drop of the 

 morning — giving to the ear new music, as well 

 in the solemn rustling of the tempest-stricken 

 forest, as in the gentle murmuring of the zephyr 

 through our latticed bower; he who, by his 

 teachings, thus awakened in us a new life, and 

 so brought us more nearly into harmony with 

 the great Author and Architect of all, has gone 

 out from among us. 



He who, as a wise and gentle brother, has 

 "taken sweet counsel " with us. in arranging 

 the "surroundings" of our pleasant rural homes, 

 in the position of every group of trees and everj' 

 flowering shrub that ornaments the lawn; he 

 who kindly sat with us, and carefully " counted 

 the cost" of our dwelling, planning with singu- 

 lar combination of knowledge and taste, the 

 various conveniences and luxuries of life show- 

 ing how far more necessary is a nice perception 

 of fitness and harmony to right enjoyment, than 

 abundant riches; he who has gilded the "re- 

 fined gold " of the wealthy, by working it out 

 into what has been expressively termed the 

 "frozen music" of architecture, and at the 

 same time has "painted the lily" and thrown 

 "a perfume on the violet" for the poor and 

 lowly, by enlightening their minds and fdling 

 them with new perceptions; he, our master and 

 f>ur friend, suddenly is " blotted from the things 

 that be." 



And yet how little of such a man can die. 

 To his fiiuiily, to his immediate circle of per- 

 friends, and those who met him in the 

 walks of life, it is indeed death, in all its 

 reality. With them, " each heart know- 



eth his own bitterness,'' and with their sorrow 

 "the stranger intermeddleth not '" But to us, 

 who chiefly knew him through his written 

 teachings, and have him still with us in the 

 pages of his "Landscape Gardening." "Cot- 

 tage Residences," and " Country Houses," in 

 his " Fruits and Fruit Trees," and " The Hor- 

 ticulturist" — tons, to the world, to posterity, 

 he still lives. 



We mourn for one who, in his department of 

 knowledge, stood c.mfessedly above any other 

 on this whole continent — a man who came to 

 us, not like most great minds, too early to be 

 appreciated or even recognised, or tot> late to 

 be useful, but who came and was welcomed just 

 when the inhabitants of this western world had 

 laid down the woodman's axe, and were anx- 

 iously waiting for lessons which should enable 

 them to advance from the stern and rigid prin- 

 ciples of mere utility, to the higher and more 

 graceful pursuits of science and of art — from 

 'the rude cabin of the settler, to the vine-shel- 

 tered cottage or more lofty dwelling of the artist 

 and the scholar. This man, w(! are told, is 

 dead; but still he stands forth, for us. pre-emi- 

 nent as if yet among the living, patiently, ,'is 

 heretofore, in his written words, replying again 

 and again to our inquiry. How shall we make 

 the earth more beautiful, and humanity more 

 pure ? 



Philosophy has suggested that the impress of 

 objects perceived by what we term sight, is 

 constantly repeated, projected, again and again, 

 into space, travelling with the rapidity of light, 

 to be intercepted, perchance, thousands of years 

 hence, by the refined senses of mortals even, 

 translated to distant spheres; and that nothing, 

 whether it be a material atom, a note of music, 

 or the reflected image of a flower, which has 

 once been, can ever cease to be. The thought, 

 however fanciful, is pleasing in connection with 

 the memory of one whose life has been success- 

 fully devoted to the creation of beauty all 

 around. How these daguerreotypes may have 

 filled all space, and eternity itself, with his 

 beautiful creations ! 



And now the trite question, nsually so easily 

 answered when one has gone who occupied a 

 large space in the public mind, will be heard, 

 " Who shall fill his placed" The answer to 

 this inquiry has already been suggested: His 

 place is already filled. The niche in Fame's 

 Temple for him who should develope a new world 

 in the pursuits of" Rural life and Rural Taste" 

 in America, like that for the discoverer of a con- 

 tinent, can contain bvt one statue. 



In early manhood he has fallen, but not, in- 

 deed, before he had finislied a life-work, and we 

 who lament what seems, at first, his u 

 fate. sh(ndd remember that true life is n( 

 sured by vibrations of the pendulum, an 



