State Agricultural Society. 103 



the name of Mark IToi)kins, or liear it mentioned, witliout feeling a 

 synipathotic pang as tliougli the ueath of some near one were brought 

 to my mind. It springs from that sentiment which drew all who 

 were acquainted with the " silent partner " to call him " Uncle Mark." 

 Most of you knew tiiat stnall figure with its homely clothes, its thin 

 face, quick eyes, gray heard, measured gait, and low-pitched voice. 

 His character corresponded with his plain, outward ap[)earance. He 

 did unostentatiously the work of three ordinary men ; was as honest a.s 

 the sun: affected no generosity, but did good in secret; was happy 

 when at his post; never intruded his opinions, but when they were 

 asked gave them with a weight and earnestness that always left their 

 mark. The monetary concerns of the vast company were safe in his 

 keeping, and it surel}' may be said of him that he did his duty. 



The body corporate that grew out of the meetings in that little 

 room so near to us gathered here, had Stanford for its clear, intelli- 

 gent and able head, Huntington for its far-moving, untiring feet, 

 Crocker for its energetic and hard-working body, and Hoj)kins for 

 the steady, plodding hands. Unlike the image of the King's dream, 

 however, all the parts were of the same material, intimately welded 

 together, and the hands of Uncle Mark Hopkins were of the true 

 metal, unstained while here, and now, I believe, most thoroughly 

 purified. 



But all this, you may say, does not particularly concern us; the 

 construction of a transcontinental railway is a fact of general interest, 

 and except as to chance passengership cannot intimately affect our 

 interest, comfort, or well-being. Allow me to apologize for so doing, 

 and then contradict you. The construction of the Central Pacific 

 has affected, does affect, your well-being, comfort, and interests; I 

 mean that of each of you. It is a question of simple argumentative 

 decision. Let it be granted that the overland line has done what I 

 have endeavored to show it has done — made California an intimate 

 part of the Union — and the inference is obvious, I think, that the 

 opening up of our internal resources has followed as a natural 

 sefiuence. Means of neighborly communication would have existed 

 and have been improved, of course, but to the trunk are due the 

 branches, to the parent the children, to the fountain head the streams 

 of travel. 



The railroad system of California has sprung from a common cen- 

 ter, and if it is to the extended cbaracter of that system that we all 

 owe so much for convenience and saving of time and money, is it not 

 clear that the formation, existence and action of the common center 

 affects us all individually? 



How are the farmers of California situated to-day with reference 

 to railways? Looking up to the far North we see our sister State 

 gradually being drawn closer to us by Henry Villard's Oregon and 

 California Railroad. The men of Del Norte, Modoc, and Siskiyou 

 will soon feel themselves in and not out of the world. A little south 

 and we find the Shasta Valley and Cloud River farmers taking 

 advantage of the Oregon division of the Central Pacific Railroad. 

 Butte, with prosperous Chico, Yuba, and Phtcnix-like Marysville, 

 are passed and Sacramento is reached, whence is opened all the 

 world. Looking west we see Sonoma, with almost every town a rail- 

 way station; up Napa Valley the train stops at the farmer's very 

 door; while Lake and Mendocino are soon to be joined in the iron 

 bands of the great brotherhood. Nearer to us are Solano and Yolo 



