634 IOWA DEPARTMENT OP AGRICULTURE 



fairs of state. Mr. Wallace was a leader in developing the efficiency 

 of the farm. Aside from innumerable articles in Wallaces' Farmer, he 

 engaged in outside activities. He published a book sixteen years ago 

 outlining the value of raising clover on the farm. In 1897 he was instru- 

 mental in inaugurating the first special dairy train in the west, and 

 perhaps in the world, the object being purely educational in character. 

 Mr. Wallace's leadership in agricultural matters was recognized by his 

 election to the presidency of the National Conservation Congress in 1910, 

 but he did not confine his attention to the material welfare of the farm. 

 The social life, the life in the home, received equal consideration. His 

 Sunday school lessons published weekly in Wallaces' Farmer have be- 

 come classics. These covered the entire Bible three times. 



"I know of no man who has lived such a well-rounded life, dealing 

 with religious, political, farm and business affairs, and successful in 

 all, whether as editor, speaker, teacher or preacher. He was recognized 

 as a leader in each field. 



"I am just learning the bitter heartache and pang which it means to 

 say 'Goodbye' to a beloved parent. My mother, who will not be with me 

 long, has suggested the following poem as proper for this occasion: 



"An old man going a lone highway 

 Came at the evening cold and gray 

 To a Chasm, vast and deep and wide. 

 The old man crossed in the twilight dim. 

 The sullen stream had no fear for him; 

 But he turned when safe on the other side 

 And built a bridge to span the tide. 



" 'Old man,' said a fellow pilgrim near 

 'You are wasting your strength with building here. 

 Your journey will end with the ending day, 

 You never again will pass this way; 

 You've crossed the chasm, deep and wide, 

 Why build you this bridge at evening tide?' 



"The builder lifted his old gray head; 

 'Good friend, in the path I have come,' he said; 

 'There foUoweth after me today 

 A youth whose feet must pass this way; 

 This chasm that has been naught to me. 

 To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be; 

 He, too, must cross in the twilight dim — 

 Good friend, I am building this bridge for him.' 



"On the evening of February 22d, I went over into the little room 

 of the Methodist church where the body of Henry Wallace lay. I can 

 still see the rugged, powerful physique, and the sturdy features of the 

 man. People came and went. They paused in little groups for a short 

 time, here and there about the room, conversing in low tones. Music 

 could be heard occasionally coming from the adjoining room. I stood 

 there a long time, silently contemplating that magnificent specimen of 



