ANNUAL MEETING. 203 



ready to do his bidding; that he Iiad but to ask and do, and nature's voice 

 would utter back his desire; that his life was grand ; it was nurtuied in the 

 arms of nature; that she gave him life and heakh and made iiini tlie fountain 

 of vigor from which Uowed the new pure blood that siiould replenisii the 

 exhausted dwellers of tlie city. I have no admiration for ;i farmer, large or 

 small, who has no higher thought of his occupation than that of work. I 

 have no admiration for the farmer's son who leaves the farm to become a sort 

 of city gentleman. As a sovereign, he is in his occupation head and shoulders 

 above all others, his the primal one, his part to create. All other occupations 

 are the results wliich his necessities, the fruits of his labor, have created. Tlio 

 advance of railroads from the most distant points of civilization to the sea 

 board, and the ships wiiich whiten the seas, are the results of this supreme 

 class of men who demand a rapid and safe transportation for the products 

 which nature's lavish hand has thrown into their granaries. His calling has 

 called into life the inventive genius of the world, and intellect pays homage to 

 his calling. 



But this ideal of supreme good also suggests the beautiful. Man loves the 

 beautiful. The robe of the earth above is spangled and sparkles with an 

 infinitude of beauty; the earth clothes herself annually with choicest beauty 

 ia natural flowers. How rich a vesture; how beautiful the garment nature's 

 band has thrown over and around the world ! Even the child resting in its 

 mother's arms pays homage to nature in its admiration of the beauty and 

 fragrance which greet them from spring-time until winter binds the earth in 

 chains of ice. It costs but little of money or care to surround home with the 

 choicest flowers; and the gratifying food furnished by their beauty and 

 fragrance is far more than compensation for the effort. The tulip, narcissus, 

 violet, pansy, gladiolus, geranium, and rose are within the reach of all. 

 "Flowers are the alphabet of angels, whereby they write on hills and fields 

 mysterious truths." Another flower celebrated in mythology, even if left 

 alone, uncared for, will grow to majestic stature, and throwing out its laterals 

 will crown itself in glowing beauty from foot to crown. It will lift its face to 

 the rising sun, and in its faithful constancy will give him as he retires to his 

 western bed the same loving look it gave him in the morning — the first and 

 last alike. Mythology tells us that a water nymph named Clytie fell in love 

 with Apollo (the sun); he made her no return ; that she sat for days upon tlie 

 cold ground, her unbound tresses streaming over her shoulders. For days she 

 watched her god and neither tasted food or drink; she wept, and her tears 

 and the chilly dew were her only food; that she gazed on the sun when he 

 rose, and all through the day until his setting, her face was constantly turned 

 to him, and she saw no other object; that at last her limbs rooted to the 

 ground, her face became a flower which turns on its stem so as always to face 

 the sun in its daily course. Poets have made it the subject of their verse. 

 Hood, in his "Flowers," says: 



"I will not have the mad Clytie, 



Wliose iiead is turned by the sun. I 

 The tulip is a courtly queen, 



\Vhoiii therefore 1 will .»;Iiim. 

 The cowslip is a country weuch; 



'I he violet is a nun ; 

 But I will woo the dainty rose, 



The queen of every one." 



