Even the townsman's heart is refreshed by the green blade and the golden ear, the quietly pasturing cow and the frisking colt, the shade of the woods and the perfume of the fields; but far stronger, higher, nobler is the enjoyment of the man who, walking over his own land, can say, "All this is mine; all this is a blessing upon my energy and insight." For he does not merely supinely enjoy the picture before him: some definite wish accompanies every glance, some resolve every impression.

Every thing has a meaning for him, and he a purpose regarding it.

Daily labor is his delight, and it is a delight that quickens each faculty.

So lives the man who is himself the industrious cultivator of his own soil.
And three times happy the proprietor of land where a battle with nature has been carried on for long years.

The plowshare sinks deep into the well-cleaned ground, the ears hang heavy on the well-grown corn, and the turnip swells to colossal size.