these little dissensions have arisen, I repeat, I am glad I am here. I have seen squalls before to-day, and they never alarm me in the least. I do not know, indeed, but that I feel more at home in a squall than in a calm. I do not intend to blame anything that has arisen here. Indeed, I do not know the circumstances. But I am opposed to any unfairness, to any duplicity, to any double-dealing, to anything that does not become a synod of deacons, in this organization.

The Democratic party is just starting on a great campaign, and the guns fired here to-day will echo and re-echo until the close of the Presidential election. Let every man speak and act so that his words and deeds will appear well one year hence. Do that, and the Democratic party will be united, and stand on a basis broad enough and strong enough to support the beautiful superstructure. There will be room for all within its area. Away, then, with all personal feeling and jealousy. March onward, forward, to victory. Who will join hands with me to-day in this work? [Cries of “all, all.”] That is well, fellow-Democrats. Let not brother turn against brother. Look not into the troubled past, but press forward, and the great Empire State will emerge into the golden sunshine of prosperity, and the laborer, no longer pressed with burdens, will look up to the clear sky and know that he is no more to be borne down by taxation and registration.

Let us then stand to our guns. Let there be no clique here, or faction there, to build up or to pull down. But where the Democratic party is, let us be there. When the drum beats, respond to its call. And let me, in closing, assure you, that wherever I can be of service, there you will find me. You may have some among you who can do better service, but not one who will rise up earlier or retire later in the cause.

ADDRESS

DELIVERED BEFORE THE CHENANGO COUNTY

SOCIETY, September 22, 1859.

AGRICULTURAL

[The publication of this Address, of which two editions were issued by the Society, was preceded by the following correspondence:

"HON. D. S. DICKINSON:

"OXFORD, December 28th, 1859.

"DEAR SIR-I have been absent a few days. Returning, I found yours of the 23d, declining a copy of the Address, delivered at our late Fair, for publication. I regret it very much. Pardon me, if I seem too importunate in this, and repeat my request. By those who were fortunate enough to get places to hear, the address will long be held in pleasing and profitable remembrance. They will not willingly let it die.' But, by reason of that constant shower of rain, a very large proportion of those gathered there on that occasion were reluctantly compelled to deny themselves the pleasure of hearing so good, so great a thing. Hence I am the more anxious for publication. It is not necessary to mention that Chenango is very proud to claim as her son one who has done her, the State, the nation, so much honor; and of whom the farmers and mechanics are pleased to speak as an elder brotherone who went out from them at an early manhood, and after long years has returned at their call, and given them the teachings of a long and varied experience, the knowledge gathered from broad fields of observation and thought, and a wisdom obtained as well from the high and lofty standpoints of earth as from the common walks of life. Your words to the people were sweet. They would treasure them up and have them in such form as they may recur to them often, and hand them down to their children. No county can give like reasons as this why you should break over your rule, 'not to publish.' Suffer me in this request to prevail. I know not how to go up to the Annual Meeting of our Society on Tuesday next, and there report my inability to procure the Address for the press.

แ "May I hear from you soon.

"I am, sir, yours very truly,

"HORACE PACKER."

"BINGHAMTON, January 2d, 1860. "MY DEAR SIR: Your second and urgent application for the publication of the Address delivered by me before the Chenango Agricultural Society induces me to depart from my determination and comply with your request; but I do so with reluctance, for overwhelmed as I am with a press of varied occupations, I have no time to devote to such matters, and addresses of this character are from necessity hastily prepared-delivered without review or correction, and must therefore lack accuracy, compactness, and originality of thought. But I owe Chenango peculiar obligations, and will refuse no request she can make of me. I therefore place the manuscript in your hands as it is, for such disposition as you may think proper, and have the honor to be sincerely yours.

"D. S. DICKINSON. "HORACE PACKER, Esq., President Chenango Agricultural Society."]

MR. PRESIDENT AND FELLOW-CITIZENS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN-When we cast our eyes abroad upon this beauteous carth, with its extended plains, its majestic mountains, its lovely vales, its grand primeval forests, its fertile fields, and its golden harvests; when we witness the throbbing bosom of its restless ocean, the gliding of its wandering rivers, and the murmuring of its meandering streamlets; when we essay to contemplate the mysterious magnificence of the celestial world, until lost in wonder and admiration; when we are awakened from our reverie by animate existence, see flocks and herds on either hand for man's enjoyment, the lamb gambolling from his hillock, the wild bird paying its glad matin and vesper devotions, pouring out from the fulness of its heart its joyous notes; when we consider man, created in the image of his God, endowed with the mysterious faculties of reason, and bearing in his breast the germ of immortality, presiding over all, how can the human mind measure the mighty contrast, when "the earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep." Then no azure heavens, so "darkly, deeply, beautifully blue," were spread out-no golden sunlight shone, no moon displayed her crescent, no stars twinkled-no noontide beamed-no twilight cast her gossamer curtain along the eastern horizon-no evening "closed her pennons down". -no ocean heaved with ebb and flow like the pulsation of the human heart-no rivers ran-no streams meandered-no rains descended—no fertilizing

dews stole gently to their destination-no herds lowed-no flocks bleated-no lambs skipped-no birds sang-no verdure germinated-no flowers bloomed-no fruits ripened; there was no hum of industry-no voice of man-no laugh of merry childhood:

"But gay or gloomy, steadfast or infirm,

No heart was there to mark the hour's duration;
All tides and times were lost in one long term

Of stagnant desolation."

In the progress of Divine economy, the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them, and man was created, and commanded to replenish the earth and subdue it, and was given dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.

The primary duty of man is plain. His mission is before him. It is to learn by the teachings of Revelation and the deductions of reason, the law of his own existence; to estimate the blessings which a beneficent Creator has set in boundless profusion before him, and to discharge with conscientious fidelity the interesting and varied responsibilities of his high estate.

The gorgeous hues of the lilies of the field excel in beauty the diadems of Oriental princes; but they were strewn along the pathway of man's pilgrimage to beguile his weary footsteps, and are cut down and perish like the grass. The birds of the air, with plumage rivalling the tints of the rainbow, make every grove and woodland vocal with sweet song, for man's enjoyment, but God has vouchsafed to them only the faculty of instinct, and they provide subsistence, and build their nests, and rear their young the same this day as they did when their notes ushered in the first morning of their existence. The wild fox digs his hole, eludes his enemy and seizes his prey with surprising skill and consummate cunning, but experience has been lost. to him, and his race have made no progress since the first habitation he constructed.

In the adaptation of nature, and the spontaneous productions of the earth, God has warmed and fed and clothed all animate existence but man, to whom he gave dominion over all.

While "foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have

nests, the son of man has not where to lay his head." He alone was endowed with reason, invested with a deathless spirit, clothed with the habiliments of a glorious immortality, and a great and benign mission set before him in the work of human regeneration and progress-progress in industrial pursuits, in agriculture, commerce and the arts; progress in science, in all its diversified relations-in the occult mysteries of philosophy, natural, mental, and moral; progress in the whole scope of man's earthly mission, which demands his best efforts in the field of life, in subduing its rough and forbidding configuration, and fertilizing its barrenness-in wrestling with the sins which beset, and the temptations which allure him from the path of rectitude and duty; progress in that Heaven-born charity which folds beneath its angel wing the most abject of God's children -in social duties and domestic affections-in self-examination, communion, culture and elevation, and progress in advancing the cause of pure and undefiled religion-in mitigating the harsh features of sectarian creeds, so that all may meet together around the same consecrated home-hearth, like children of a common father, and all slake their thirst at the same gushing well-spring of immortality.

Industry is the cardinal duty of man. It is a primary element in the economy of his existence. It lies at the foundation of the social structure. Its necessity is stamped by the impress of the Creator's hand upon every moral and material lineament of his being, and the injunction that he should eat his bread in the sweat of his face is as emphatic and irrevocable now as it was when, pale and trembling, he was summoned by an Almighty fiat from his terrified concealment in Paradise. And despite the alarming degeneracy of the times, and the startling inroads of indolence and pride and lust and luxury, while many worship at the shrine of industry like the poor publican, afar off, industry receives her full meed of praise, and indolence her appropriate measure of condemnation and disgrace. Industry is the parent of every virtue, and countless blessings follow in her train; indolence is the prolific mother of plagues as numer ous and deadly as those which escaped from the fabled box of Pandora; theft, forgery, robbery, and arson are its concomitants, and a brood of social vices, ending in murder, hang upon its festering footprints. Industry is the associate of health and