14 
a truer perspective, and thus brought the most substantial kind of 
encouragement. 
The last time I ever saw Colonel Woodward was last July, 
when he took the director of the Brooklyn Museum and the di- 
rector of the Botanic Garden with him to Cold Spring Harbor, 
Long Island, to confer with the director and one of the board of 
managers of the Biological Laboratory of the institute located at 
that place. The object of that visit was in the interest of bring- 
ing about a closer articulation between the biological laboratory 
and the other departments of the institute. As has before been 
said, the welfare of the institute amounted to a passion with 
Colonel Woodward, and no one realized more fully than he the 
absolute necessity of solidarity for the largest success of stich an 
institution. 
He was essentially an optimist. At the last annual inspection 
of the Garden by the trustees he overheard someone inquiring 
where he was, and replied, “ Here he is, enjoying the good things 
of life as usual.” But to enjoy the best things in life himself was 
never enough; he was ever actively interested in securing such 
advantages for others, and this altruistic habit of mind was the 
mainspring of his philanthropies. 
THis estimate of values was not limited by his own attainments. 
On one occasion he said to the speaker, in substance, “I don’t 
know anything about botany, but I believe the work you are try- 
ing to do at the Botanic Garden is worth doing, and that a botanic 
garden is a desirable thing for any city to have.’ Its value as a 
public institution was sufficient reason in his mind for supporting 
it. One cannot help here but note the contrast between such a 
largeness of view and the more restricted vision of those who re- 
gard, or profess to regard, museums and art galleries, zoological 
parks, and botanic gardens, as luxuries and frills, and who ques- 
tion the propriety or desirability of supporting them, even in part, 
by public taxation. 
The life of Colonel Woodward was a living protest against 
such a point of view. In the work of the Brooklyn Botanic 
Garden, as elsewhere and always, his gifts were generous and 
timely, his sympathy was intimate and helpful, his optimism, con- 
tagious and leavening. We honor ourselves in this public recog- 
