228 TRANSACTIONS OF THE 



has declared the freedom of the intellect, and that conscience should 

 be free. It has declared the equality of man, and did not rest until 

 all were free. It has not allowed itself to be hampered by laws of 

 primogeniture and entail, and gives the honor of public station and 

 the rewards of social life as prizes for all who will honorably contend 

 for them. These heroes, this army, are the American farmers, plant- 

 ers, and ranchmen. 



To a little division of this Grand Army of the Republic, stationed 

 here upon the westmost verge of the continent, do I now address 

 myself. You are the picket guard of the most advanced post of the 

 west, and now, after a bounteous harvest, fully garnered, you meet 

 for review. 



I have no such knowledge of your art of agriculture that I can 

 give you advice in the details of its pursuit. Although I was a. 

 farmer's boy, and followed the trail of the plow, it was under such 

 changed conditions of seasons, soil, climate, and productions, that my 

 knowledge would not avail you. I think you have found that the 

 knowledge gained from your own experience has been a better 

 teacher than that gained from books. I can only talk of the litera- 

 ture of land. My farm lore comes from books. I have a farm, it is 

 true; in fact, I have two. Upon one I raise imported Jersey cows. 

 I paid twelve thousand dollars for two hundred acres, ten years ago- 

 My cows cost me three hundred and fifty dollars a head. I have- 

 raised blooded colts — Elmo, Hambletonian, Warwick — and I am 

 ashamed to confess that I have one Copperhead. I never sold but 

 one Jersey calf in all these years. The price was fifty dollars, and 

 there is still owing me twenty dollars on account. It is the only cent 

 I ever received from that farm. I raised an Elmo colt. I paid one 

 hundred and seventy-five dollars to get him. When he was fivo 

 years old I traded him off for seventy-five dollars. I have observed 

 a curious fact in the horse market. When I want to buy a horse they 

 are scarce and dear. Whenever I want to sell the market is glutted,, 

 and horses are a drug. Farming is a gentlemanly pursuit, but gen- 

 tleman farming does not pay — that is, it does not pay me, and 1 am 

 compelled to admit that I am a failure; as a farmer, I mean, not as 

 a gentleman, I hope. [Laughter and cheers.] Having an upland,, 

 hilly farm, I was troubled with dry seasons; so I said to myself, I will 

 get the best of the good Master, I will hedge; I will buy a tule farm. 

 So in wet Winters I will get a crop on the uplands, and in dry sea- 

 sons I will get a crop from the swamp lands. So I purchased, in 

 Contra Costa County, just across the San Joaquin, a piece of tule 

 land. I have successfully reclaimed it. In fact, I have successfully 

 reclaimed it five times, and every time the levee broke ; and you can 

 hold a regatta over where I have sown my grain. A few weeks ago 

 the levee burst again, from the melting snows of the Sierra, and I am 

 compelled to admit that my theology is as defective as my farming,, 

 and that so far, I have not been able to outwit God Almighty. From 

 the only tenant I ever had on that land, the only rent I ever received 

 was one Christmas turkey. That turkey cost me something over six 

 thousand dollars. 



I make an admission of these melancholy failures to illustrate 

 how little I know of practical farming in California, as an apology 

 for what this address shall lack of practical information, and as an 

 admonition for your Society to procure your lectures from farmers in 

 the future. 



