28 
THE CULTIVATOR. 
Jan. 
mer of the North-Bend, and the farmer of the Hermit¬ 
age; the farmer of Tennessee and the farmer of Ash¬ 
land; the farmer of Lindenwald and the farmer of 
Marshfield. So that it well may be urged, that though 
all the farmers can’t be presidents, all the presidents 
must be farmers. 
But besides this there are in agricultural life great 
opportunities of individual usefulness. The effects of 
example and precept extend farther than we can imag¬ 
ine. When you throw wheat into the ground, you 
know what will be the product; but when you exem¬ 
plify or inculcate a moral truth, eternity alone can de¬ 
velop the extent of the blessing. 
About a hundred years ago there lived in Boston a 
tallow-chandler. He was too ignorant to give and too 
poor to pay for his children’s instruction, but he was a 
wise and an honest man, and there was one book, 
upon whose precepts he relied, as being able to instruct 
his children how to live prosperously in this world, as 
well as to prepare them for another. We are told that 
he daily repeated to them this proverb: “ Seest thou a 
man diligent in his business? He shall stand before 
kings.” In process of time this tallow-chandler died 
and was forgotten. But the good seed had fallen 
upon good ground. One of his little boys obeyed his 
father’s instruction; he was diligent in his business, and 
he did stand before kings, the first representative of 
his native land! He lived as a philosopher, to snatch 
the lightning from heaven; as a statesman, to wrest 
the sceptre from tyrants. And when he died, he con¬ 
fessed that it was the moral teachings of his father, ad¬ 
ded to the little learning he picked up in a town school 
at Boston, to which he owed his success, his happiness 
and his reputation. He did what he could to testify 
how sensible he was of these obligations. He be¬ 
queathed liberally to his native city, the means of in¬ 
ducing the young to improve their advantages, and to 
enable the industrious to succeed in their callings. And 
he erected a monument over his father to tell his vir¬ 
tues to another age. But the glory of the father was 
in the child. His son’s character was his noblest mon¬ 
ument. The examples that son set, of industry, perse¬ 
verance and economy, have excited and are exciting 
many to imitate them. And thousands, yet unborn, 
may owe their success and happiness to the manner in 
which a text was enforced, by a poor tallow-chandler, 
upon Benjamin Franklin. 
But, being useful and profitable to others, is not the 
only advantage of a farmer’s life. He who is wise 
may be profitable to himself. In the most busy agri¬ 
cultural life, there are hours that can be devoted to in¬ 
tellectual improvement. And I confess, in my ideal of 
the American farmer, much more is included than the 
regular, systematic performance of the routine of plow¬ 
ing and sowing, reaping and gathering into barns. 
I cannot satisfy my imagination with the hard work¬ 
ing man, who, after toiling through the day, has no 
thought at its close, but to satisfy his animal nature and 
to sleep. No, the man who cannot find some time for 
the cultivation of his intellect, is in a wrong position; 
and does not improve as he might the situation in 
which he is placed. This it is, that spiritualizes his 
labor and raises him above the brute that labors for him. 
I do not expect him to be learned on subjects for which 
he has no occasion; but if he enjoys the priceless boon 
of health, let him know something of that most won¬ 
derful instrument, his own body,—that if that “harp 
of thousand strings ” should fail, he may with some in¬ 
telligence repair the evil. Let him know something 
of the physiology of the vegetabl e world; and every 
blade of grass and ear of corn will speak to him of the 
benevolence and skill of the Great Contriver. Let him 
not enjoy the sunshine without some knowledge of 
the laws of light, or see his field drinking in the 
dew, without understanding its adaptation to the pur¬ 
poses of nutrition. It is in the power of every man 
to reserve some portion of his time for these pursuits; 
and he will find that every addition to his stock of 
knowledge will make his walks the pleasanter, the 
flowers the sweeter, and every thing more full of inte¬ 
rest and meaning. 
But there is something superior to intellectual plea¬ 
sure ; and can a sphere be better adapted to a progress 
in the moral qualities than the one he occupies? Every 
situation must be a scene of trial. Yet different states 
have different temptations. The difficulty of entering 
the narrow path, is not, in every case, likened to the 
passing of a camel through a needle’s eye. Agricultu¬ 
ral life has few temptations—no risks are run in its pur¬ 
suit—no deception is used in its progress—no conceal¬ 
ment is required for its success—it is open, manly, 
straight-forward. It depends on no one’s favor; it 
rests on no one's promise, excepting His, who has said, 
that “while the world endureth, seed time and harvest, 
summer and winter, shall not cease.” And while free 
from tempation, such a life gives ample scope for the 
exercise of all those duties that elevate man, while 
benefiting his race. It is not required of many men in 
a generation to do some great thing for themselves or 
for their country. It is the little every day duties and 
habits that mark the character. It was not in the shouts 
of multitudes, that the old patriarchal farmer delighted. 
But it was “ when the eye saw him, then it blessed 
him; and when the ear heard him, then it bore witness 
of him.” The opportunities of exercising the elevated 
virtues are ever present to the independent farmer. 
Like the patriarchs of old he stands at the head of his 
family. Like them, he should rule his household after 
him,—instructing, consoling, supporting. 
And there are others dependent upon him, who owe 
their comfort and well-being to his care; and whose 
dependence may be the means of awakening sentiments, 
that even religion has not overlooked. When the great 
lawgiver of the Jews led them from the house of bond¬ 
age, and by divine command established them as an ag¬ 
ricultural people, his laws recognized the advantages ol 
such a life for the formation of character. To remem¬ 
ber and love the Giver, and rejoice before Him, in the 
spring-time and in the harvest, on the anniversary of 
their deliverance and on festal days, was the first and 
great commandment, and the second was like unto it. 
Love and kindness to the neighbor, to the stranger, to 
the widow, to the fatherless, were enjoined as conge¬ 
nial duties. But the directions stopped not here. The 
brute creation of every kind shared in his remembrance. 
The Sabbath was to be observed, “that thy ox and thy 
ass may rest.” And when the harvest was gathered in, 
the mute and patient laborer was not to be forgotten: 
he should share the grain for which he had toiled, and 
the command, “thou shalt not muzzle thy ox when he 
treadeth out the corn,” secured to him at least a portion 
But freedom from temptations, and opportunities of 
exercising the virtues, are not the only facilities that 
an agricultural life offers for the formation of an ele¬ 
vated character. The scenes that surround it, the un¬ 
ceasing regularity of cold and heat, summer and winter, 
seedtime and harvest, cannot but lead the observing 
mind up to their Author. In no crowded workshop his 
time is spent. The broad fields and the high moun¬ 
tains, and the running streams, diffuse health and cheer¬ 
fulness around. No smoky lamp sheds a doubtful glim¬ 
mer over his task; the glorious sun sends his rays for 
millions of miles to warm, and enlighten, and gladden 
his path. The religious sentiment is nowhere so natu¬ 
rally developed as among rural scenery. How great is 
the charm that agricultural allusions throw over sacred 
poetry! It was a youth spent in rural scenes, that ena¬ 
bled the sweet singer of Israel to touch a chord, re ■ 
sponsive to every human heart. 
The voice of the son of Jesse is always sweet, but 
how different its tones from the various situations of 
his eventful life. The shepherd-boy, keeping his fa¬ 
ther’s sheep, is filled with adoration as he gazes on the 
majestic scene above, and exclaims, “what is man that 
thou art mindful of him, or the son of man that thou 
visitest him ?” Or, rapt with love at the care of the 
Creator, reminding him of that which he himself exer¬ 
cised towards the objects of his charge, he bursts out, 
“ the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” His 
voice, too, comes to us from the palace and the camp: 
from the statesman and the warrior; but in a tone how 
altered. The innocence and faith of the shepherd-boy. 
