when I, for the first time, took my father's oxen and went to the field to plow, with one of the best of Pardon Cole's plows. Were I to describe this wonderful plow, and we had its picture, we should judge it more appropriate for a comic almanac than for an agricultural show case. It truly was a huge looking thing, the beam or neap as the Yankee would call it, was made of wood, and the land-side was wood and the mould-board was wood, and then we had a little wooden paddle to paddle off the dirt off the wooden mould-board at every corner when necessary; and now for the point, it was forged out by a common country blacksmith, one would suppose at the present day it was more fit to iron off a hog's nose than to be used for a plow-share, in short, it was what the Yankees call a hog plow. Let us compare this with the plows now in use and be thankful for what we have. Well may it be said by the inspired writer, "ye have sought out many inventions."

We might take most of the minor implements of the farmer, and speak at length of the glorious improvements in farming utensils for the last fifty years. But we will speak of but one more of this class, and that is, the wonderful buggy or mowing machine, sweeping through our meadows, drawn by horses where fathers and sons, fifty years ago, sweat with an iron hook in hand to mow down their fields. What an onward march is our world making in the things that are seen which are but temporal that must decay with their usage.

Once more, I well remember when I was some ten or eleven years of age, my parents promised me a visit to Troy for the first time, and I, like most of other country boys, thought much of going to see the great place; the buildings were so thick I could not see the city, as the saying is. At the time, I had no shoes, and they were difficult to get at that time, for I had first to get the shoemaker's promise and then wait for the fulfillment. I got the promise, and the shoes were to be done the day previous to my going to Troy. I went for the shoes at the appointed time, and behold, I had the shoemaker's promise, for they were not done. And this makes me think of an anecdote which took place between a shoemaker and his wife, the wife says, "What made you promise the lad when you knew you could not fulfill," the husband replies, "It is a poor man that cannot make a promise:" there I was disappointed.

Again we might speak of the many mechanical improvements, such as the housewife's sewing machine, the telegraph, the steam powers and the railways, and many other things of note that we have seen at our town, county and State fairs. But lest I digress too far from the great object I have set forth and have still in view, I will hasten to it.

I feel incompetent for the great work I have undertaken. It always was hard work for me to write out my thoughts or speak before my superiors, and many there are whom I esteem better than myself, yet, however good my neighbors may be, they cannot do my duty nor stand in the judgment for me.

I remember of asking my dear mother, many years ago, how old I was when she took me by the hand and walked along by the side of the wall, and from thence to the old log-house, where lay a young lady asleep in death. Mother informed me that I was then three and a half years old. I speak of this because it was the first person that I saw a corpse, and to show that early impressions upon the tender mind are hard to be eradicated. I have just been speaking of things that transpired in 1816, and, as it is true that one thing leads to another, my mind is called to think of my beloved parents, and the early trainings they gave their children; the beloved words of our Saviour is, "train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it."

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