Year: 1874

It Pays-Everybody But HIMSELF.


At the Rural Club dinner, Henry
Ward Beecher said:


knew that you all understood was
farmer but speaking not being my
vocation, did not know that you would
call upon me to speak. L expect when
1 die to have on my tombstone, "The
farmer of Westchester County" AS
such, I want it to be remembered that I
have lived life of usefulness. 1 have
farm of some thirty or forty acres,
and am often asked whether my farm
pays. I always say, " Yes-everybody
but myself" 1t has set up three or
four men in business; they have built
houses off of my farm, and there are
several more that are just going to
build. Yet although it has not taken
care Of me, as near as 1 can remember
l have always taken care of it. If I
have not derived much from it in
pocket, L am sure I have derived
enough in enjoyment to make it profit
able investment. L look forward to the
day when I may be released from the
contaminations OF city life and may re-
tire to my farm in the country. L can
say truly that when go among trees [
am better pleased with my company for
the most part than / am when among
men. l find never had tree that
lied to me, and, although they do a
great deal of whispering among them
| selves, have never any reason to sup
pose there was any scandal in it. I find
in nature neither peevishness nor
trouble-making, bat much instruction
and much comfort. After o man has
been in the excitement of active life I
think there is nothing more wholesome
than the bath which one gets by going
into the country. think there is no
inheritance, there is no blessing that
anybody can confer upon his children,
no money, no name that can compare
with gift for natural scenery and ru-
raj occupation. The gift of being in
the presence of nature is greater gift
than any fortune that can be imagined.
am sorry to say that this is a gift less
often found among those who live in
the country than anywhere else. [ see
a great many persons that talk about
the country "a great deal indeed, but
they know very little about it with the
inward man. But to love it until, So
liciting it, it loves you; until when you
go there the trees lay bare their shrines,
and bend and welcome you, until ma
ture herself perceives you and wants to
be the almoner of Gods bounty that
is pleasure which we cannot expect
everybody to have. The New York
merchant has got to be worth several
hundred thousand dollars if he is going
into the country to live and be a farmer.
He buys place, and look over to see
what he does with it. He has been
reading books and taking advice from
men, and he begins on it to lay off his
ground and build fences, stone walls OF
hedges, and he goes on to drain it and
square it up and deepen it, and to buy
manure infinite and transport it with
out regard to cost to enrich the whole
soil, and he builds fine barn and then
a fine house, and at last to slick up
everything around about him; and
when he has got to that point nature
lets go of him, and he yawns and begins
to be restless, for he has nothing more
to do. The fact is he has been mechan.
lea, and the only thing in nature is that
it gives him something to do, and so al
last he sells the place for about one
half what he gave for it, and goes bach
to the city and says, "You tell me
about farming, have tried that; ]
know what that is.