24:0 Wisconsin State Horticultural Society. 



inside. It was a most bitter sarcasm, as well as a sad commentary 

 upon some farmers' homes, that was uttered by the wife of one of 

 our large western farmers, and a very fine stock-grower. His 

 stock of all kinds was noted far and wide as being the best in the 

 portion of the state in which he resided. His sons were noted as 

 far and wide for their inclination for drinking, gambling and other 

 traits of character of the same low order. His wife led a life of 

 almost unbroken toil, and was, in fact, but little better than a slave 

 in the house where she should have presided as the queen of a 

 beautiful home. Some persons called one day, during the absence 

 of her husband, to look at the stock. She went with them and 

 showed them the beautiful herds of cattle, stalls filled with noble 

 horses, and pens of the finest breeds of swine. 



The visitors were enthusiastic, as well they might be, over such 

 fine specimens of stock. In reply to some of their remarks she 

 said in a very bitter tone, "Yes! the stock is very fine indeed, 

 but if my husband had paid one-half the attention to rearing his 

 sons that he has to rearing his horses, cattle and hogs, we should 

 have had a very different family from our present one." I do 

 not wish to under-estimate our fine stock, nor the great value that 

 has been added to the wealth and happiness of our country by 

 their production, but I do protest most earnestly, against this 

 complete substitution of body for soul ; this devotion to any one 

 branch of agriculture to such an extent as to ignore or forget 

 the comforts of home, the higher life of this world, or the still 

 higher one of the spirit land. Then, friends, let us work on in a 

 path that will surely lead to a pure and happy life. Year after 

 year as I stand amid my growing plants, and think of the laws of 

 the Father of the Universe, how they hold the planets in their 

 course ; how thousands of other suns and worlds are moving on 

 in their appointed way, without jar or confusion, each one perfect 

 in its own orbit ; and then think that the same Father of all has 

 made laws just as perfect, governing the most feeble of my plants, 

 as well as the largest of the planets. The modest little strawberry 

 plant never turns into a rose bush, nor the rosebush into a pansy, 

 nor the pansy into a pink. Each and every one retains its own 

 individuality and its own peculiar features of life. And when 



