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 disagreeable, dull, hard work. 



Nov, of this vocation I wish to say a few words, as a vocation — not of 

 methods of culture, of which I am not qualified to speak, but of farm -life and 

 woris, as a vocation. 



We know least, that which is nearest to us. We see least, that which is un- 

 der our very eyes. Familiarity, if it does not "breed contempt," breeds in- 

 sensibility, 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 hap- 

 pened in Texas. The common street, before our eyes, with its passing vehi- 

 cles — 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 ever} r 

 thing. 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 conjurer's 

 cup and balls. This being that we are, this wonder of breathing life and tho't, 

 this healthful and happy play of thousands of veins and muscles and nerves, 

 does not move many persons as much as would the gift of a dollar. 



And so, if you will give me leave, I doubt whether we truly appreciate this 

 which I call the vocation of farming — what it is, or w T hat may be made of it. 

 The first element of it, or what commonly presents itself as the first, labor — 

 it is a totally different thing from what many think it is. Instead of being all 

 evil and hardship, it is the greatest blessing in the world. Absolute freedom 

 from it, would be utter misery. Hard is it to labor \ But imagine the whole 

 human race to wake in the morning, and so for the successive mornings of f 

 month or a year, with nothing to do ! They would die of ennui, or plunge it 

 to the madness of universal disorder. And hard work is not found on farms 

 alone. I hear traders, factory operatives, mechanics, carpenters, blacksmiths, 

 talking very much as farmers do, about their tasks. They gel very tired, every 

 day. It is so with all life. It costs much, because it is meant to be worth 

 much. 



Because it is meant to be worth much — that is the key-thought which I wish 

 to present to you, and to show how it applies to agricultural pursuits. But le 

 me first say a word upon the attractiveness of this, as compared with other pur- 

 suits. Why should tanning be thought less agreeable, less interesting as a bus- 

 iness, than manufacturing or trading? For my own part, I think I had rather 

 go out into the fields and open air, to plow and plant, and to gather in, the har- 

 vest of wheat and corn and the orchard, than to spend my days in the noisy 

 factory, or the counting-room and the ware-house. The hay and harvest season 

 is commonly accounted to be a joyous time; the vintage in Italy, the gayest of 

 the year ; "and let me say in passing that our orchards give us a more valuable 

 fruit than grapes, and a drink more agreeable and healthful than the common 



