32 MASSACHUSETTS AGRICULTURE. 



man, rich in bonds and stocks, express his satisfaction, when 

 he first got hold of a piece of ground that he could call his 

 own, — that was his, down to the centre and up to the sky ; 

 and no creature could dispute it, in the heavens above or in 

 the earth beneath. 



How, then, does it come to pass, if all this be so, that the 

 farm and farm-work rank so low, with many, in the scale of 

 human professions and employments? Farming is the almost 

 universal condition of men, made so by the ordination of 

 Providence. Would it not be strange, if it must be so in the 

 providential order, the least desirable of all conditions? I 

 hear that our young men, everywhere, are seeking to escape 

 from it — are rushing to the cities, to factories, to shops. I 

 suppose it is because many of them can find nothing else to 

 do, or think they cannot. But I imagine it is also because 

 most of them look upon the crowded quarters of life and 

 business as more attractive. Farming, in their eyes, is dis- 

 agreeable, dull, hard work. 



Now, of this vocation I wish to say a few words, as a voca- 

 tion — not of methods of culture, of which I am not qualified 

 to speak, but of farm life and work, as a vocation. 



We know least that which is nearest to us. We see least 

 that which is under our very eyes. Familiarity, if it does 

 not " breed contempt," breeds insensibility, breeds ignorance. 

 We do not read our own life, for instance, half so clearly or 

 so intently, as we do the story of some strange thing that has 

 happened in Texas. The common street, before our eyes, 

 with its passing vehicles — I doubt whether one person in a 

 hundred, ever marks the beauty of those revolving wheels. 

 Will any of you look at them and tell me if he ever thought 

 of it. "The sun is all very well," said the Irishman, "but 

 the moon is worth two of it ; for the moon affords us light in 

 the night-time, when we want it ; whereas the sun is with us 

 in the day-time, when we have no use for it." The sun that 

 gives us light is forgotten, because he gives it every day. 

 It is so in everything. This scene around us, this great 

 world-show, with its revolving sweep of a thousand miles an 

 hour, does not strike many so much as a conjuror's cup and 

 balls. This being that we are, — this wonder of 'breathing life 

 and thought, — this healthful and happy play of thousands of 



