312 TRANSACTIONS OF THE 



of receiving pleasure spontaneously from those objects that were 

 intended by the Creator to be grateful and pleasing. Now, this is too 

 fair and large a domain of the soul to be left wholly uncultivated. And 

 yet its gates are thought to be closed against the cultivator of the soil. 

 He has to deal with utility, and not with the beautiful. Hence it has 

 become common to speak of country people as rustics, bumpkins, clod- 

 poles and mudsills. The politician calls them the bone and sinew of the 

 land, a compliment equally due to horses and cattle. Now, 1 am confi- 

 dent that rural life and industry are far more favorable to the develop- 

 ment of the finer sensibilities than the}' get credit for. It is true the 

 farmer has no access to academies of design or galleries of art, and does 

 not daily walk to his business under the shadow of sumptuous architec- 

 ture, like the dwellers in the city. But, then, he dwells in God's spacious 

 studio, and may actually see infinite thought at work shaping the clouds 

 and painting the hills and fields in variegated hues and tints. It is God's 

 ideal of beauty that breaks upon you in the glorious sunrise, that is 

 spread before you in the picturesque landscape and sculptured hills and 

 mountains — -those " great cathedrals of the earth, with their gates of 

 rock, pavement of clouds, choirs of stream and stone, altars of snow aud 

 vaults of purple traversed by the continual stars." 



For, after all, what is nature but the embodiment of Divine thought, 

 the graceful and flowing vesture that enwraps ineffable beauty, order 

 and harmony. No beaut}* in a farmer's life ! Walk through this Pavil- 

 ion and gaze upon the fruits and flowers displayed upon these tables. 

 These are not artificial, mere fruit and flower pieces of artistic skill, but 

 miracles. Landseer and Bonheur may paint the most finished represen- 

 tatives of animal life, the hoi-se, the dog, the cow, but you possess the 

 original pictures which they copy. Surely the sweep of fields, snow- 

 crested mountains, woodland glades, orchards, vineyards and gardens 

 ought to be more soothing and refining to the soul than the piles of 

 brick and mortar, the clatter of drays and milk wagons, and the cease- 

 less roar of mammon. And allow me to surest to the farmer that it is 

 a duty he owes to his manhood, to the public good, to give more atten- 

 tion to the esthetics of his calling. It is said that an ill-natured woman 

 will knead her irritable disposition into the bread she makes, and thus 

 affect the whole family with her unamiable temper. Be this as it may, 

 we know that every man stamps his individuality upon his work. As 

 you ride through the lane and look at a shabby, unpainted house, a 

 straggling woodpile, rickety gates, sloven fences, and the mangy aspect 

 of things in general, you say instinctively that a clownish, boorish mind 

 must dwell there. A man cannot live in a muss, with pigs rooting in 

 the dooryard, hens cackling in the kitchen, and everything in " confu- 

 sion worse confounded," without becoming demoralized. Chameleon- 

 like, we reflect the hue of our surroundings. Rural ornamentation, 

 neatness and taste in architecture, and display of shades, flowers and 

 smoothly shaved lawns would make home inviting and keep your sons 

 and daughters from longing to escape from the dullness of the country 

 to the giddy whirl and dissipation of the city. And let no one say 

 that the farmer has no time to indulge in fancies of taste and refine- 

 ment. He has man}* an hour of leisure quite sufficient for these little 

 artistic endowments, once his sensibilities are quickened into a lively 

 appreciation of taste and beauty. 



Another element of manhood I must not overlook, is moral integrity. 

 As you set your time pieces by the sun and adjust your hours of toil by 

 solar regularities, so our moral nature should be regulated by the great 



