1884.] THINGS WHICH SEEM WOETHLESS. 83 



nency are by no means thus limited. It takes hold of considera- 

 tions which are of interest to the farmer, not so much because he 

 is a farmer as because he is a man. And I think it well, even in a 

 farmers' meeting, to remember that our interests are not limited to 

 or by, our business, but that we have a share in everything which 

 affects the welfare of humanity. Whatever difficulties we contend 

 with, whatever troubles assail us, find their counterparts and com. 

 rades in other lives — yes, I think, in every other life. Farmers as 

 well as others — others as well as farmers, hold in their hands 

 material possessions with value fleeting or flown, and besides these 

 we all have such a long list of immaterial property that belongs 

 in the same category. Our plans which promised so much, our 

 hopes that we rated so high, our purposes which assuredly had 

 good material in them; how many, many of them all, must go at 

 length into the seemingly worthless class. The plans, fair as they 

 seemed, wouldn't work. Some obstacle there was — some difficulty 

 which we did not anticipate, and found no way to overcome, and it 

 left our plan worthless, and all our expenditure upon it of time 

 and thought and labor was lost. Our hopes, too, how valuable 

 they seemed to us. A prince's ransom could not have purchased 

 them. They gilded for us all the future, and filled the atmosphere 

 of our thought with rosy light. How could it be that they should 

 turn out worthless ? But that is just what they did, or seemed to 

 do. We never realized what they promised us. They never ren- 

 dered the service we expected of them. Where, then, shall we 

 place them but in the worthless class ? Our purposes were closely 

 allied to our plans, and they shared the same fate. Occasionally a 

 plan succeeded, occasionally a purpose was fulfilled, but of the 

 long, long procession that went the other way, what shall we say ? 

 Were they worthless ? At least they seemed so. 



Well, if they were worthless, what use to spend time or thought 

 upon them ? Isn't it better to dismiss them from our minds, and 

 give our attention wholly to the things which are obviously valua- 

 ble ? If we could do this it might be wise, but we cannot. The 

 two qualities of worth and worthlessness are so associated and the 

 things which they distinguish so intermingled that we cannot limit 

 our study and our scrutiny to either class. We must give attention 

 to both. The constant efllort to separate them, and the wide uncer- 

 tainty as to where to place so many things compels this. You 

 cannot even sort a potato crop, without giving attention to the little 



