270 Wisconsin state agricultural society . 
A hundred years ago, our soil was tilled very nearly similar to 
the manner in which it is now tilled ; though now we have some 
doubtful improvements in harvesting a portion of the soil’s pro¬ 
duction. Go back a hundred vears and examine the other 
branches of the nation’s wealth. The broad-ax and whip-saw 
shaped the finish of our houses ; the horse, ox and wind furnished 
the motive power for carrying on the nation’s commerce. The 
military command, the merchant’s order, the newsmonger’s com¬ 
munication and the speculator’s bid were reckoned to travel from 
twenty to thirty miles per day; the traveller and tourist weighed 
well the wear of body or limb ere the journey was commenced. 
How is it now with these pursuits? Our motive power furnished 
by the cheapest and yet most powerful of agencies—steam. Com¬ 
munications sent from shore to shore with the speed of thought; 
timbers and metals fashioned in any and every conceivable shape 
as if by magic; tourists flying through the country on cushioned 
seats and beds of ease. Then^o back and compare the American 
intellect of a hundred years ago with that of to-day, and you find 
it the same. The farmer of then and now are the same; the 
brain of other industries the same then as now. Then why this 
discrepancy? Why this difference in the advancement of the 
several vocations, and why all against the farmer ? Why is it that 
the path we have followed—the path that we expect our children 
to follow—is less dignified than that marked out by other trades 
and professions for themselves and their offspring? And why is 
it that we so often hear it said, that he is nothing but a farmer? 
Gentlemen, when you look down deep into the bright eye of 
your beautiful boy, whom you expect to be an honor and solace 
in your declining years; whom you are training up to follow your 
own example, the ennobling, soul-inspiring art of assisting nature in 
the production of the vegetable wealth of the world—with those 
words, “nothing but a farmer,” ringing in your ears, reverberating 
through your brain—do you experience no heart-burnings, or desires 
to avert, if possible, from that child any chance for the application 
of these odious and humiliating words? Ah, well do I know that 
you do; and well do I also know that this degrading sentence— 
that should parch the slimy lips that utter it, and cause that of 
the listener to curl with scorn—has driven many a fond father to 
