MR. WILDER'S EULOGY. 



letter of condolence addressed to me a few days before his death. They seem prophetic 

 of this hour. " God knows what is best for us." 



This dispensation is indeed mysterious; a wonder of Providence such as the All-wise 

 and Infinite rarely permits. He takes away one to whom we are most attached, and 

 that, too, when we can Iciust afford to spare him. But let us hope that this melancholy 

 event may awaken public attention, and direct it from the man to his pursuits and to 

 tlieir connection with the public welfare, and thus become the occasion of raising up men 

 to cnrry out and consummate his worthy enterprise. 



We have thus spoken of the last hours of our lamented friend — of the dreadful catas- 

 trophe which terminated his earthly career — of the circumstances and influences in which 

 his character was formed— of its most prominent and commanding features — of the great 

 events of his public life— of his published works — and of his plans of future usefulness. 



As your humble servant, appointed to speak of his " life, character, and virtues," it 

 is not proper for me to indulge personal and private partiality. It has been my endeavor 

 to form such an elightened judgment of his worth, and such an unbiassed estimate of his 

 numerous excellencies, as shall be in harmony with your own opinion, and shall command 

 public confidence and respect. The duty we perform is without any expectation of adding 

 to the lustre of his fame. His works are his best eulogy — the most enduring monuments 

 of his worth. 



But he has gone! His seat in this Congress is vacant! Another will make the report 

 which was expected fiom him! "We shall much miss his wise and leading counsels in our 

 deliberations and discussions, his prompt and energetic action in our endeavors to advance 

 the worthy objects of this association, in the origin and grogress of which his agency was 

 so conspicuous. He has gone! He is numbered with those patrons and promoters of the 

 ornamental and useful arts who rest from their labors; — with the erudite and sage Pick- 

 ering, the wise and laborious Buel, the ardent and scientific Mease, the humorous and 

 poetic Fessenden, the practical and enterprising Lowell, the tasteful and enthusiastic 

 Dearborn, the indefatigable and versatile Skinner, the scientific and volumnious Loudon, 

 and others of noble design and enduring fame. These have fallen around us like the 

 leaves of autumn; and Providence now calls on us to inscribe on that star-spangled roll 

 the cherished name of Downing, struck down suddenly when his sun was at the zenith 

 of its glory. 



He rests in the bosom of his mother earth, in the city of his birth, and the sepulchre 

 of his fathers, on the banks of that beautiful river where his boyhood sport, and where 

 the choicest scenery inspired his opening mind with the love of nature — a spot which will 

 be dear to the thousands of his admirers, and which our love to him will constrain us to 

 visit. We may resort to his hospitable mansion, but he will no longer greet us with his 

 cordial salutation, nor extend to us the right hand of fellowship- We may wend our way 

 through his beautiful grounds, but he will not be there to accompany us. Instead of his 

 pleasant and instructive voice, which once dropped words of wisdom and delight on our 

 ear, we shall hear the trees mournfully sighing in the breeze — the cypress moaning his 

 funeral dirge, and the willow weeping in responsive grief, " because he is not." " His 

 mortal has put on immortality." 



When we think of the place which he occupied in the hearts of his countrymen and 

 cotemporaries — of the expanding interest which he has awakened in the rural arts, the 

 refinements and comforts of society — of his unfinished plans, which others, inspired by 

 genius, will unfold and consummate — and of his works, which will be admired when 

 tongues that now praise him shall be silent in death, our sense of justice accords to 



