196 TRANSACTIONS OF THE 



over matter, over light and over heat, over chemic and over mechanic 

 energies. 



From the marching of the season and the timely rains, from the 

 hidden wealth of the mountains, and from wealth more real, of the 

 generous soil; from the products of the forests, and of the flock and 

 the field, and from the products of the far resounding sea, man 

 derives revenues and service. Lightning is his courier, and light his 

 artist. Trade-winds move his light-winged argosies, and snows 

 gather on Sierra crests to swell the floods wherewith his ample acres 

 shall be irrigated. 



Flowers, by their weird alchemy, transmute dew and gases into 

 aromatic odors for his delight, and change sunbeams and clays into 

 hues emerald, purple, and roseate, wherewith to greet his kindling 

 glance, as he moves out to gaze upon the inheritance over which "far 

 as the breeze can bear the billow's foam," one day shall be true: 

 man's nod is empire and his foot-fall law. 



Silkworms spin for him, oysters secrete pearls for him, lime becomes 

 marble and carbon diamonds for him; rocks are turned into silver,, 

 and plants become coal for him; rivers leap to light from lofty foun- 

 tains in the hearts of heavy hills, that utilize the Jaw of gravitation. 

 Man may make them turn his ponderous wheels, and whirl the 

 myriad spindles. The wild fowl "nurses" the plume that shall wave 

 upon the victor's helmet; and the cotton and the flax plants offer the 

 fibres of which the banners, beneath whose folds he shall move forth 

 to conquest, or repose unharmed amid the fruits of his free and hon- 

 est industry. 



Force guards him, sows, reaps, thrashes, and grinds for him, as in 

 ages past it toiled in fashioning his dwelling place. 



Art breaths inspiration ; music reveals her mystic laws to his mod- 

 ulating genius. 



The block becomes a thing of beauty. The canvas glows with the 

 tints and flush of life. Arch and pillar, capital and dome, spring 

 from earth and soar to heaven, almost obedient to the necromatic 

 touch. 



Homer wrapped in his singing robe, wet with the dews of the 

 morning of the ages, chants his immortal epic to find in the broad- 

 ening centuries a whispering gallery, round which his melodies shall 

 swell in musical thunder. 



Dante, gentle as he is sublime, tender as he is stern, a violet in the 

 rift of an Alpine glacier, or the "Victoria Regia"of the Middle Ages; 

 and Milton, blind with the excess of light, laden with the lore of 

 classics and of sacred thinkers, clarified by waters of sorrow and chas- 

 tened by fires of fierce scorn, his harp upon his shoulder, daring the 

 seraphim to a trial of his strength of passion, and their sweep of 

 thought — these all proclaim the extent and opulence of the sover- 

 eignty of man — all are his, the true, the beautiful, and the good. 



And, as we look over the grand display in this pavilion, the artistic 

 arrangement of the exhibits, it only shows the cunning of the hand, 

 and the vigor and force of the human intellect, and the sovereignty 

 of man. 



But, my friends, I ask you to go with me and unfold the pages of 

 history, and see what we can find in the morning of Creation. There, 

 in the good old Book, is a plain record, where our old grandfather, 

 Cain, appears as "a tiller of the ground," and Abel as a feeder, or 

 "keeper of sheep," offering the firstlings of his flocks. Here we find 



