FARMERS' BOYS AND GIRLS. 
417 
the time you can devote to study. If they can send you to college 
at sixteen or eighteen years of age, it may be well, bat see to it 
that you do not suffer loss by your early departure from the paren¬ 
tal roof. 
If you must remain in your home and aid in the daily labors of 
the farm, do not complain; this, for you, is the path of duty, and 
this difficult and narrow way leads only in one direction and that is 
always to success.. While treading this path, you are building bet¬ 
ter than you know, even in your young years; you are of some use 
in the world; you are acquiring the kind of riches that never will 
take wings. Do not deplore the poverty which keeps you at home; 
it is the children of the poor, oftener than the children of the mil¬ 
lionaire, that become eminent and useful. The road to fame and to 
honor does not lead through college halls; many a young man has 
been compelled to give up his studies, his hopes of graduating 
honors, and turned to manual labor, and in this, which is mistaken¬ 
ly called the ‘‘ humbler walks of life,” has found distinction and 
wealth. 
The scholars and the statesmen that have lived and passed away, 
during our hundred years, have not been the most useful or the 
best beloved. 
We think, with admiration, of our Jefferson, of John Quincy 
Adams, of Edward Everett and Charles Sumner, but these and 
their eloquence will be forgotten, while the good deeds and compre¬ 
hensive words of our “ Martyred President ” will live forever in 
the hearts of his grateful countrymen. If you would be loved and 
remembered, after you have passed away, it must be by what you 
have done, not by what others have done fcr you. 
To-day, there sleeps in Greenwood,” with the monument of 
enduring bronze above his head, one whose boyhood and early 
manhood were one continual struggle with poverty, privation and 
rugged labor; in later years, when successful in business, he was 
the same untiring worker for the good of his fellow men, and now, 
though “ dead on the field of honor,” Horace Greeley still lives, 
and his name will be loved and remembered as long as the sun¬ 
beams shall play over his grave. 
You cannot hope for better things than this, you cannot have 
a rouo-her road than that over which the benefactor of his race has 
passed, and if your parents, like his, shall decide that just what 
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