Bad as I am, I have another hobby. There are thousands and thousands of criminals in our country. I told you a little while ago I did not blame the South, because of the conditions which prevailed in the South. The people of the South did as they must. I am the same about the criminal. He does as he must. If you want to stop crime you must treat it properly. The conditions of society must not be such as to produce criminals. When a man steals and is sent to the penitentiary he ought to be sent there to be reformed and not to be brutalized; to be made a better man, not to be robbed. I am in favor, when you put a man in the penitentiary, of making him work, and I am in favor of paying him what his work is worth, so that in five years, when he leaves the prison cell, he will have from two hundred dollars to three hundred dollars as a breastwork between him and temptation, and something for a foundation upon which to build a nobler life. Now he is turned out and before long he is driven back. Nobody will employ him, nobody will take him, and, the night following the day of his release he is without a roof over his head and goes back to his old ways. I would allow him to change his name, to go to another State with a few hundred dollars in his pocket and begin the world again. We must recollect that it is the misfortune of a man to become a criminal. I have hobbies and plenty of them. I want to see five hundred millions of people living here in peace. If we want them to live in peace, we must develop the brain, civilize the heart, and above all things, must not forget education. Nothing should be taught in the school that somebody does not know. When I look about me to-day, when I think of the advance of my country, then I think of the work that has been done. Think of the millions who crossed the mysterious sea, of the thousands and thousands of ships with their brave prows towards the West. Think of the little settlements on the shores of the ocean, on the banks of rivers, on the edges of forests. Think of the countless conflicts with savages--of the midnight attacks--of the cabin floors wet with the blood of dead fathers, mothers and babes. Think of the winters of want, of the days of toil, of the nights of fear, of the hunger and hope. Think of the courage, the sufferings and hardships. Think of the homesickness, the disease and death. Think of the labor; of the millions and millions of trees that were felled, while the aisles of the great forests were filled with the echoes of the ax; of the many millions of miles of furrows turned by the plow; of the millions of miles of fences built; of the countless logs changed to lumber by the saw--of the millions of huts, cabins and houses. Think of the work. Listen, and you will hear the hum of wheels, the wheels with which our mothers spun the flax and wool. Listen, and you will hear the looms and flying shuttles with which they wove the cloth.