SEVENTH ANNUAL YEAR BOOK— PART III. 105 



the hog, myself; my hogs pay me well. I can turn a hog into an 

 orchard, and they pay me more for my seconds and thirds than 

 the commission men. ]\Iy judgment is, that within ten years, all 

 over New England and through the east they are going to produce a 

 large amount of beef. I don't believe it is going to compete seri- 

 ously with you people, because the demand at the same time 

 is increasing. I went into a butcher shop at Omaha and I 

 found I could buy a first class steak (sirloin) for 121/2 cents. 

 What do you suppose I pay for that kind of beef at home ? Twen- 

 ty-six cents a pound. That is what I pay there for the same quality 

 of beef. 



Just one thing more. I never get a chance to talk to such peo- 

 ple as you without closing with some reference to the better side of 

 farming. It is all right, friends, to pile one dollar up on top of 

 the other. What in the world are our old farms good for, if not 

 for the saving and rearing of good men and women. You men are 

 here, you left your women folks behind. I am here; back in New 

 Jersey is my little home ; I would fight for it ; better than that, I 

 live for it. IMen go away from home, they put on their black 

 clothes, they throw out their chests and say, I did this. But go 

 back to the kitchen stove, inside of the house ; there is the daughter, 

 the women folks, where you will find the foundation of unity. A 

 man is a show piece: in nine cases out of ten he is like the hands 

 that go around the clock ; the patient, willing, uncomplaining silent 

 workers at home are doing the work. 



Just after I bought my farm, in May, the most beautiful season 

 of the year, I took my children walking over the hill, and we got 

 into the woods, and there was a little glade, and in the center 

 there were two lilacs growing. You never see a lilac growing 

 wild up in these abandoned farms. The house was destroyed, yet 

 the lilacs were there. I didn't know where it came from, the chil- 

 dren knew nothing about it, and in their great happiness they 

 never thought of it. I knew there was a home there once. I went 

 back and asked my old neighbor. He told me that sixty years 

 before that time a man went into the forest with his wife and chil- 

 dren to cut out a home. All that he had in the world was his honor 

 and love for his family. He took the ax and built the house, cleared 

 the forest, planted his garden and orchard, and he worked as man 

 will work ; only will work to make a home. And the wife did her 

 share ; that woman was patient in time of trouble ; she held her 

 peace, though her heart was breaking. She raised her children in 

 the fear of God, and she planted the lilacs in front of the door. 



