to the acre. Her standard is now thirty-two. Within three-quarters of
the century New York has fallen from twenty-five to twelve; and
half that period, again, has brought Ohio and Indiana from thirty to
fifteen. But this process is a natural part of the sum of American
progress. Land was the only property of the country originally, and
subsequently of different parts of it in succession. It was used like
any other commodity, and worn out like leather or cloth. The original
cuticle of the continent has disappeared for ever. The task, now is
to induce the granulation of a new one. The restorative process may
be complete by the time we have four hundred souls to the square
mile, like England and Flanders. Meanwhile, the exporting of Iowa and
California in the shape of wheat is going on at what must be esteemed
a profitable rate; for our farmers, as a class, do not seem to be
losing ground. Their glebes have risen in value from thirty-two
hundred millions in 1850 to sixty-six hundred ten years later,
and ninety-three hundred in 1870. This has been accompanied by a
diminution of their average extent, the farm of 1870 covering a
hundred and fifty-three acres. This is small enough, considering
the capital necessary for stock in these days of improved and costly
implements, when a farmer can no longer pack his entire kit in a cart.
It matches closely the size of English holdings, where agricultural
science is at its height. The French peasant-farmers, with their plats
of three and four acres, are chained to the spade and hoe, and their
steading becomes a poultry-yard--a consummation we are not yet in
sight of, as is proved by the legions of pigs and beeves, barreled
or bellowing, that roll in from the ancient realms of Pontiac and
the Prophet with a smoothness and velocity unattained by the most
luxurious coach that carried a First Congressman.

Everything that makes a nation, we are told, and the nation itself,
is the product of the soil. But the less immediate, finer and
most delicate fruits cannot usually be garnered until the soil is
thoroughly subdued. The mass of matter keeps the intellectual in
abeyance. Were Europe enlarged one-half, and her population reduced
to one-eighth what it actually is, the spectacle of culture she now
presents would be an impossibility. It is our merit that, thus brought
to American conditions, she would in no way compare with American
achievement. An offset wherewith we must at the same time