484 Wisconsin State Agricultural Society. 
clear to his heart; when he has given the devotion of a lifetime to 
the accomplishment of a cherished purpose, and then defeat comes, 
sharp and crushing, he says in the extremity of his anguish, there 
is nothing more to live for; and so, before sober second thought 
has reversed this rash judgment and enabled him to adjust his rela¬ 
tions to changed circumstances, he does that most cowardly thing 
—takes his own life. 
We lean upon our work continually. A friend once told me 
after the death of a brother for whom she had been very ambitious, 
and to whom she had given not only the wealth of her love but the 
fruit of her toil, that it hardly seemed worth while to live now. Her 
chosen work with its years of willing sacrifice had seemingly come 
to naught—seemingly, I say—in reality no good work fails, and 
her tireless energies had not yet had time to seek out other needy 
ones for their loving ministry. Industry is a gracious comforter in 
sorrow. That was a true sentiment, uttered by an uncultivated 
woman, “ There’s nothing that chippers you up so as being real, 
driving busy.” 
The feeling of self-respect which work brings is by no means 
least among its blessings. The mastery of an honest trade gives a 
security greater than any wealth, because it is an interior possession. 
Industry is a life-preserver. The delicious sense of independence 
that accompanies genuine work is cheaply purchased even at the 
expense of aching limbs and weary brain. The youth with his first 
wages celebrates a perpetual independence day so long as those 
first-earned dollars last. Responsibility lifts the boy into a man; 
it accomplishes in days the ordinary growth of years. 
Steady work gives stability to character and equilibrium to life. 
Idlers fall into temptation, speculators are unreliable, hangers-on 
for position uncertain. The discipline of regular work is an ines¬ 
timable aid to virtue. 
In the associations that cluster about our wonted work, we find 
some of the simplest and sweetest joys of life. The scenes of our 
work become endeared through long familiarity. Spots that have 
witnessed some hard-won battle, are ever after sacredly enshrined 
in memory, and we make pilgrimages to them with all the ardor of 
devoted Mohammedans journeying to their sacred city. It is always 
with regret that we move from the old home, fumble, and lacking 
art it may be, yet glorified in our eyes, for within its walls has 
