NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



493 



SULOGIUM ON THE LATE A. J. DOWN- already been driven overboard. He commits the 

 ING. rest, and hist of all himself, also to the fatal flood, 



Pronounced be/ore the Pomolosic tl Congress at Philadel- 

 phia, September \3th, 1852. 



BV HON. MARSHALL P. WILDER. 



The annual return of the 28th of July will moist- 

 en the eyes and agonize the hearts of many Amer- 

 ican citizens. 



On the morning of that disastrous day two stea- 

 mers, the Armenian and the Henry Clay, with 

 numerous passengers on board, start from the cap- 

 ital for the chief commercial port of the Empire 

 State. Like "stately sailing swans" they glide 

 swiftly over the smooth surface of the Hudson. 

 The fare within them waxeth warm ; their awful 

 energies are roused ; they run abreast — anon, the 

 "bird of the West" darts ahead and distances her 

 orient rival. She calls at her landings, swells the 

 number of her passengers, and with fearful veloci- 

 ty bears them onward. 



They admire the varied landscapes, the cottages, 

 villas, towns, cities, bold cliffs, and mountains, 

 which have given the scenery about this majestic 

 river a world-wide renown. 



They near a city, which rises in beauty and 

 grace from its western bank back to the brow of 

 the distant hill. There is a 



"Cottage, half emboweied 

 With modest jessamine, and there a spot 

 Of garden siound, where, ranged in neat array, 

 Grow countless sweets." 



Its architecture is in the most approved Eliza- 

 bethian style. Its grounds are tastefully laid out 

 and adorned, and he who named it "Highland 

 Gardens" accurately translated the natural lan- 

 guage of the place. It overlooks the city and the 

 river, and commands a view of one of the most 

 extensive and beautiful landscapes in the world. 

 The very site seems designed by nature for the 

 birth-place of genius, and for the abode of comfort, 

 taste and learning. 



Its proprietor, with his relatives and friends, 

 six in all, take passage in the ill-fated boat. She 

 bears them on toward their port of destination, 

 when suddenly the alarm of fire rings like a death 

 knell through that floating sepulchre. The pas- 

 sengers are ordered aft, and she is headed for the 

 eastern shore. In a moment all is consternation 

 and horror, which no language can describe, no I 

 painter's pencil sketch. Her whole centre is on 

 fire. She strikes the bank two miles below the 

 town of Yonkers. The wind envelopes the mul- 

 titude on her stern in smoke and flame. With a 

 fearful odds in the chances of escape, the Great 

 Destroyer offers them their choice between a 

 death by flame, or a death by flood. Alas ; on 

 some he inflicts both ; they are first burned and 

 then drowned ! 



They are driven before the devouring element, 

 and entrust themselves to the mercy of the waves. 

 Amidst the crowd at the stern, stands a man of 

 tall and slender habit and of thoughtful expres- 

 sion, whose penetrating eye surveys this perilous 

 scene, and seeks the most favorable chance of es- 

 cape. His accustomed self-possession fails him 

 not in this awful extremity. He imparts wise 

 counsels for personal preservation to his friends 

 and those about him ; then climbs to the upper 

 deck fir articles from the furniture of the boat, on 

 which they may float to the shore. He returns, 

 but his beloved wile and part of his company have 



"Forlorn of hearts, and by severe decree 

 Compelled reluctant to the faithless sea." 



They sink; they rise. With the grasp of death 

 they cling to him and again submerge him and 

 themselves in the waves. He brings them once 

 more to the surface and beat for the shore. Alas ! 

 it is in vain ; his efforts to save others peril bis 

 own life. Entangled, exhausted and disabled, he 

 sinks to the watery grave. . 



But the partner of his life, her sister and broth- 

 er, who were mercifully rescued from the jaws of 

 death, are still unapprised of his melancholy fate, 

 and search for him in vain among the agonized 

 survivors. But the cry, she sinks ! she sinks ! ! 

 fills their ears with direful apprehensions. Still 

 they cling to the delusive hope that he may be 

 among those rescued by the rival Armenian and 

 borne to the city of New York. 



The object of this conjugal love returns to her 

 desolate home. The tidings of this awful disaster 

 fly upon the wings of the wind ; the mystic wires 

 tremble at the shock ; the press utters its loud 

 lament ; the note of woe rings through our streets, 

 fills our dwellings and convulses our hearts with 

 grief. The nation mourns, minute guns are fired 

 upon the spot to arouse the inhabitants of the sur- 

 rounding country, and to start the dead from their 

 lowly rest. Multitudes rush from every quarter 

 to the mournful scene : they crowd around each 

 body as it is raised and brought to the shore, to 

 identify therein a relation or friend. Among them 

 his brother and partner in business arrives. At 

 length another body is raised. Its countenance 

 is familiar ; it is recognized ; and at length the 

 melancholy announcement is made that Andrew 

 Jackson* Downing is no more. 



"Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay." 

 His precious remains are borne back to their na- 

 tive city and to his house of mourning. There 

 they meet his widowed wife, whose ear, during 

 the fourteen years of their wedded life, had been 

 s > quick to catch the sound of his returning foot- 

 steps, and who had been the first to greet and 

 welcome him. Alas! she is suddenly bereft by 

 >ne fatal blow, of friend, father, husband ! The 

 funeral rites are performed; his body is committed 

 to the tomb, "earth to earth," "ashes to ashes," 

 "dust to dust !" 



Thus terminated the earthly career of our la- 

 mented brother and associate. But his name shall 

 lie perpetuated by fragrant flowers and delicious 

 fruits ; by gushing fountains and murmuring 

 streams ; by grateful shade and balmy breeze, and 

 by many a rural scene, and many a tasteful home, 

 he shall be remembered 



"Where cottages, and fanes, and villas rise; 

 Where cultured fields and gardens smile around " 



But to be more specific, the results of his toil 

 appear i.i the forests which he has preserved from 

 the merciless axe— in the trees which he had de- 

 scribed and made to contribute more abundantly 

 to the taste and comfort of their proprietors — in 

 the avenues which he had. adorned — in the lawns 

 and pleasure grounds which he has laid out and 

 appropriately embellished — and in numberless 

 buildings which stand as monuments to his archi- 

 tectural skill. 



The fruits of his labor are also gathered in thou- 



