STATE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY. 233 



Alter his trip around the world, Grant said the happiest homes on earth 

 are in America, and I helievc the happiest homes in America are on the 

 slopes, among the foothills, and in valleys along the Sierras. So wander- 

 ing from a foreign strand and into the orchards, vineyards, and gardens of 

 California, who would not be proud to say, and in every truest sense feel, 

 "this is my own, my native land." 



"Oh sweet to dream of a land like this, 

 Or see it with mortal eyes. 

 An earthly taste of eternal bliss, 

 A glimpse into Paradise." 



The home which the immigrant seeks hither is the sacred institution, 

 into whose keeping is intrusted the life of this republic. Here, then, there 

 is no spot of ground for the socialist, the anarchist, or the nihilist; here in 

 the purity of this social atmosphere and amidst these rural scenes no such 

 fallen spirits would find congenial company. In this golden sunshine, 

 there is no such antagonistic elements; no, neither serfs as in Russia, laz- 

 zitroni, as in Italy, nor peons as in Mexico; here every man himself is a 

 sovereign, and may be his own landlord. 



Greece and Rome flourished, only when their farming communities 

 were prosperous; and at one time, while in height of Rome's glory, six 

 acres was a farm large enough for the average Roman. 



The most cheering feature in California's future prosperity is that the 

 large tracts are cutting up into small farms, and the laborers and not the 

 landlords, own the farms. Were this the condition of the landed property 

 in Ireland to-day, there would be no need of Parnells and O'Briens, and 

 the most humane mission in which the old man Gladstone ever has under- 

 taken would now be successfully ended. If the Irish owned their land as 

 Frenchmen and Americans own theirs, free, happy, and independent 

 would now be the land of Robert Emmet and Daniel O'Connell. 



Like the towering heads of Lassen and Shasta, so from rural scenes the 

 heads of men are reared up in greatness. Thi^ follows, since every tree 

 and every vine is a teacher; every flower a book of art; every fruit food 

 for scientific thought. 



Amidst such scenes of nature as in Butte, but not grander, were reared 

 the Jewish lawgiver; the great general who was called from the plow to 

 become the deliverer of Rome; amidst rural scenes, too, were reared Wash- 

 ington, Jefferson, Adams, Madison, Monroe, Webster, Clay, Jackson, Lin- 

 coln, Grant, and Garfield. 



As yet this county is less than thirty years old, but long before it cele- 

 brates its centennial birthday, I opine that this rich section along the 

 Feather River will have its Aldingtons, Mount Vernons, and Monticellos; 

 Central Parks, Fairmount Parks, and Golden Gate Parks. 



With such glorious displays of the products of its soil as have been 

 exhibited at this Fair, and its untold influence in favor of this section for 

 fruit above all others in the Golden State, the day cannot be far distant 

 when Butte County will be universally recognized as the garden of this 

 State of gardens. 



" Bear me, Pomona, to thy citrus groves, 

 To where the lemon and the piercing lime, 

 AVith the deep orange glowing through the green, 

 Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclined 

 Beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes, 

 Fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit." 



