In concluding our report, we regret to announce that our respected and highly esteemed President is absent from our Board. From a severe illness contracted while in the service of the society as a delegate to the State of Maryland, he has been compelled by the advice of his physician to seek a milder climate for the winter. Our ardent desire for him, is, that he may be restored in health and recovered vigor, again to unite with us in advancing the great work in which we are engaged, to which he has ever been ready to devote all his energies.

B. P. JOHNSON, Corresponding Secretary.

ADDRESS

OF THE HON. HORATIO SEYMOUR, DELIVERED BEFORE THE NEW-YORK STATE AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY, AT UTICA, SEPTEMBER 10, 1852.

Seventy years since, George Washington passed this place on his way to Fort Stanwix (now the village of Rome) to visit that remote outpost of civilization. His route carried him over the conspicuous point a few miles east of this spot where the high table lands break down into the valley of the Mohawk. When he stood upon this elevation the hills and valleys, and plains of this region were stretched out before him, covered with an unbroken forest.

It is not mere fancy when I say that the spot on which we are assembled, attracted his particular attention. We are met where the highlands which divide the valleys of the Sauquoit and Mohawk fall off and allow these streams to form their confluence a short distance to the west. Struck with the beauty, fertility and the great natural advantages of this region, which at that early day he foresaw would be the channel of commerce between the Atlantic coast and the valley of the Mississippi, with its ten thousand miles of navigable streams, bordered by boundless fertile plains, he purchased lands in this immediate vicinity, and many of the farms within our view are held by titles derived from General Washington.

It was at the close of the revolutionary war, when his efforts to establish the freedom of our country had been crowned with triumph, when he was exulting over his country's victories, and agitated with an anxious hope for its future prosperity, that he contemplated with particular attention, the region in which we are assembled. It was in the autumn; when the unbroken forest

around him was gorgeous with its varied hues. The country was still in possession of the savage Indians, save an occasional spot where the adventurous pioneer had fixed his cabin. In the valley beneath his feet was the ravine where the battle of Oriskany was fought, in many respects the most fierce and sanguinary struggle of the revolutionary war, and he saw as he passed along, the ground strewed with the broken and shattered implements of war and the unburied remains of the brave German settler and of his savage foe, in many instances fixed in each others dying grasp.

Three score years and ten, the brief period allotted to the life of man, have rolled away, and what have been their result to the feeble settlements of whites and to the remarkable confederacy of Indian tribes who, before the advent of the Europeans without superiority of weapons, or knowledge of the sciences, solely by bravery and courage, held in awe and subjection, a greater extent of country than was ever before conquered by an equal number of warriors in any period of the world's history.

In the cemetery which adjoins this field you will see a boulder of white sienite which you would ordinarily pass by without notice, but which the simple faith and traditions of the savage taught him to regard with superstitions reverence, and which he believed to be the palladium of the fortunes of his tribe. From it was derived the name of the Oneida tribe, (which signifies "the children of the white stone,") one of the powerful clans of the "Six Nations," who possessed this region and gave their name to this county. This rude stone that was supposed to have some mysterious connection with the origin of their tribe, that during the period of their prosperity was used on occasions of solemn assemblages as a sacrificial altar, now stands in yonder burial place, the sole monument of their departed greatness and of the extinction of their race, and is all that is left to remind you of these brave and powerful people.

How has it fared with the white man who then deemed it an adventurous thing to make his home in these valleys? Place yourself on yonder eminence where George Washington stood seventy years since and pondered over the future destiny of this region and mark the change, The forest has been swept away,

or its lingering vestiges are preserved to advance the arts of civilization, or to adorn the abodes of educated men. Here is to be seen a flourishing city and on every side are to be witnessed beautiful villages, the spires of churches and the institutions of learning. The products of civilized skill, no longer regarded as curiosities, are produced by hundreds of manufacturing establishments situated along the margins of our streams, producing fabrics then unknown, by machinery which man's ingenuity had not yet devised. Trade no longer struggles against the current of yonder river in small canoes, but a commerce is carried through this valley on our canals, that in extent, value and tonage is nearly if not quite equal to the whole foreign commerce of the United States. Intelligence is no longer communicated by uncertain rumor; it flashes like lightning along the telegraphic line and the traveller instead of following Indian trails through dark and dense forests, is borne along on roads of iron, by engines impelled by fire and steam. And on this day, on a spot which seventy years. since was mainly possessed by savages, whose only pursuits were war and the chase, we are met for the purpose of advancing agriculture, man's most peaceful pursuit, and we see here assembled a greater number of able bodied men than the United States could bring into the field at any period during the revolutionary struggle.

The occasion makes it proper for me, in speaking of the progress of our country, to confine my remarks to considerations connected with agriculture; and if I mistake not, the present is a period of great interest in the history of that pursuit. It is an era which will work changes of a radical nature in the principles of conducting husbandry, affecting not only the extent and character of the. productions of the earth, but also involving changes in the domestic habits and degree of intelligence necessary to those engaged in the cultivation of the soil. If the views I shall submit to you are correct, they are certainly of great importance as affecting the condition of the most numerous and important class of our citizens. Periods of domestic and industrial changes are not of course, distinctly defined. They are in their nature gradual and in a State so extensive and so varied in condition as ours, their progress will be unequal in different sections. I shall assume however