ADDRESS, 



BY HON. GEORGE S. HILLARD, OF BOSTON. 



Mr. President, Ladies and Gentlemen : 



In asking me to address you on this occasion, you did it with 

 your eyes open. You knew what I could give you, or, at least, 

 what I could not give you. So far as practical knowledge of the 

 processes of agriculture is concerned, I stand nearly at the zero 

 point of absolute ignorance. Drill husbandry, drainage, the soil- 

 ing of cattle, subsoil ploughing, artificial manures, are words which 

 I hear with the ear, without altogether comprehending the sense ; 

 " even," to borrow the mellifluous language of Sir Percie Shafton, 

 " as a palfrey listeneth to a lute, whereof, howsoever, he knowcth 

 not the gamut." My farm, — the only farm I have, — is some 

 eighteen feet by sixteen ; producing but moderate crops, but 

 quite as good as the cultivation I bestow upon it deserves. There 

 are many such farms in Court Street and School Street, in 

 Boston ; but they are not in much favor with the rural popula- 

 tion of Massachusetts, though some of the operations of agricul- 

 ture are carried on there with skill and success. For instance, 

 the process of draining is not unknown there, in its application to 

 the pockets of our clients. The harrow is sometimes used with 

 good effect, to break up the stubborn clods of a witness's memory, 

 and force them to yield the desired crop of recollection. The 

 art of irrigation has long been in use with us, to convey streams 

 of washy declamation over the minds of jurymen. 



But I have never been the owner of a farm, or amused myself 

 with agriculture or horticulture. I know that the amateur farmer 

 must be prepared to manure his fields with gold and silver. But 

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