No. 151.] 297 



the tomb of more than a thousand years, Mago, Theophrastus, Vafrov 

 Columella, and a hundred more, whose works contain the gems of 

 the agricultural treasury. Neglected lands began once more to feel 

 the deep plowing, the thorough work, the manure of much cattle 5 

 the yellow harvests followed; men began once more to increase upon 

 the land; good houses, fine enclosures, noble horses, rich fruits, and 

 the fleeces of myriads of sheep were used; the silk worm was set to 

 work; cotton began to grow, and the mighty results now attained, 

 cause in us a feeling, almost of wonder, at the stupendous progress 

 already made by man. The press is the fountain of all these great 

 movements. Before that existed, nothing could be done by the mil- 

 lions of our race. That is the breath of man, lecturing his whole 

 race upon every subject of value. It is a trumpet, speaking to the 

 utmost parts of the earth. It proclaims ihe sentiments of all ages 

 and sages ; the ancients and moderns, by the press-music of such 

 Harpers as live now, harmoniously sing together the true doctrines of 

 more than twenty centuries. 



About the same time that the press commenced its mighty career, 

 America was disclosed to the wondering millions of the old world. 

 Romance awakened at this giant birth. It was deemed by some the 

 vast Island of Atlantis, a thousand miles wide, where millions of 

 powerful warriors lived, w^here mammoths were used for cattle, where 

 gold and diamonds were thick as pebbles. And when our Florida 

 was first visited, the Spanish cavalier believed the Indian romance of 

 the spring of eternal youth, situate in the interior of that flowery 

 land, and hoped to drink of its water. 



With these high fancies, they roamed over this new-found land. 

 They almost realized the dreams of gold in the regions of Mexico 

 and Peru ; but their dream gradually wore away, and disappointment 

 came. Our Anglo-Saxon ancestors, more than one hundred years af- 

 terwards, came here without any of these vain ideas, and they found 

 a gold worth mountains of the metal — they found the golden Indian 

 corn; they found the potato, and that luxurious weed so loved by 

 savage and by civilized man — tobacco! These peculiar plants are 

 ours, and it now seems that our corn is destined to be of a value su- 

 perior to all the other productions of the earth. Its constitution re- 

 sembles that of man — capable of growing in almost any climate ; 

 growing in the cold regions of the Continent some three feet high, 

 and in the warm South eighteen feet high, varying in its qualities in 

 every different position, and never failing in doing something for its 

 planter, except in very extraordinary circumstances. I am resting on 



