200 JOHN JAMES AUDUBON. 



In 1848 the quick, active mind failed. His wife 

 read to him, led him like a child, and at the last 

 fed him. One, at least, had never failed him, since 

 the day when she gave the money she earned to 

 send him to Europe to win renown. 



On Thursday morning, January 27, 1851, the 

 eyes dulled for so long once more showed their 

 former lustre and beauty. Audubon did not speak, 

 but he seemed to know that the time had come 

 for the last journey. He reached out his arms, 

 clasped the hands of his wife and children, and 

 died. 



Four days later, surrounded by distinguished 

 friends, he was buried in Trinity Church cemetery, 

 where his sons now rest beside him. A singularly 

 guileless, sweet-natured man, who willed to do all 

 this great work when a boy, and achieved it when 

 a man, because he had willed it. 



Well says General James Grant Wilson, in the 

 life of Audubon so admirably prepared by his 

 wife, " Long after the bronze statue of the natural- 

 ist, that we hope soon to see erected in the Central 

 Park, shall have been wasted and worn beyond rec- 

 ognition by the winds and rains of Heaven, while 

 the towering and snow-covered peak of the Rocky 

 fountains known as Mount Audubon shall rear 

 its lofty head among the clouds, while the little 

 wren chirps about our homes and the robin and 

 reed-bird sing in the green meadows, while the 

 melody of the mocking-bird is heard in the cypress 

 swamps of Louisiana, or the shrill scream of the 



