280 Missouri Agricultural Report. 



and put their church letters in the nearest church and attended that 

 church. Thus, they entered the Presbyterian, the Congregational, 

 the Methodist, and attended the Christian church and United 

 Brethren. 



And, friends, I am glad to see that we are beginning to find 

 each other in all denominations and we are beginning to get to- 

 gether in our churches. All denominations are good, and there are 

 good people in all denominations. I like the good people in any 

 church better than I do the bad people in my own church, and I 

 feel that I am a good deal nearer to such people. I feel that per- 

 haps I can help them, and I know that they can help me. 



It will be my pleasure to talk to you tonight on "The Rural 

 Church Problem in America," so I shall only open up our topic this 

 afternoon. I know the time will be occupied because I know you 

 will be asking questions and giving testimonials, and that this will be 

 a regular country church meeting after we get these speakers off 

 the program. You know we are not the kind of people who say, 

 and we are not supposed to say "eyther" and "nyther" and ail 

 that kind of formal talk, but we just talk face to face with each 

 other, as good people should, and I am going to indulge in that, 

 talking that way to you, because that is the right way. 



The topic assigned to me was the "Relationship of the Church 

 to the Farmer." I want to say, first of all, that the relationship of 

 the present-day farmer seems to be like that of the Prodigal son 

 when he was in the far country. The American farmer has wasted 

 his substance in riotous living, he has wasted his resources, and I 

 believe it is as much the duty of the church today as it was the 

 love of the father then to look out for this prodigal. Let me illus- 

 trate by my own history as to this. My great-grandfather was born 

 in New England, in Quincy, Massachusetts — and about one hun- 

 dred and fifty years ago the soil in that section began to give way, 

 and become depleted. He then moved out to what was then the 

 west — to Vermont. There he started up a new farm where my 

 grandfather was born, remaining in the foothills of Vermont until 

 he was a young man. By that time the farm began to wear out, 

 then grandfather moved west to Northern Ohio — to the old west- 

 ern reserve. There he took up a farm where my father was born. 

 When father became a man, that land began to lose in fertility, so 

 my father moved to Illinois. When I became a man there was no 

 more open west for me to go to. There was nothing to do but re- 

 main in Illinois. All I could do was to go back, and that is one of 



