When the land is cultivated entirely by the spade, and no horses
are kept, a cow is kept for read more

When the land is cultivated entirely by the spade, and no horses
are kept, a cow is kept for every three acres of land.

Where grows?--where grows it not? If vain our toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.

Where grows?--where grows it not? If vain our toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.

Adam, well may we labour, still to dress
This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower.

Adam, well may we labour, still to dress
This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower.

Happy he who far from business, like the primitive are of
mortals, cultivates with his own oxen the fields read more

Happy he who far from business, like the primitive are of
mortals, cultivates with his own oxen the fields of his fathers,
free from all anxieties of gain.
[Lat., Beatus ille qui procul negotiis,
Ut prisca gens mortalium,
Paterna rura bobus exercet suis,
Solutus omni faenore.]

Cultivators of the earth are the most valuable citizens. They are the most vigorous, the most independant, the most virtuous, read more

Cultivators of the earth are the most valuable citizens. They are the most vigorous, the most independant, the most virtuous, and they are tied to their country and wedded to it’s liberty and interests by the most lasting bands

With the introduction of agriculture mankind entered upon a long period of meanness, misery, and madness, from which they are read more

With the introduction of agriculture mankind entered upon a long period of meanness, misery, and madness, from which they are only now being freed by the beneficent operation of the machine.

Agriculture not only gives riches to a nation, but the only riches she can call her own

Agriculture not only gives riches to a nation, but the only riches she can call her own

Earth is here so kind, that just tickle her with a hoe and she
laughs with a harvest.

Earth is here so kind, that just tickle her with a hoe and she
laughs with a harvest.

Our rural ancestors with little blest,
Patient of labour when the end was rest,
Indulg'd the day read more

Our rural ancestors with little blest,
Patient of labour when the end was rest,
Indulg'd the day that hous'd their annual grain,
With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain.