152 OR, THE WORLD HAS CHANGED. 



claiming peace and good will to the tiller of the soil. His 

 name is Cash, and common sense catches up the strain, and 

 chimes along the farms, pay up, pay up as you go. 



Mr. President, I believe it is the farmer's true ))olicy, if he 

 can't run ten plows on the cash salvation plan, to come down 

 to five, or two, or even one; and if he can't make the riffle 

 with one, then to quit the business, or hire out to some man 

 or w^oman who does business on that plan. If he can't work 

 fifty acres well, then ten; if he can't pay cash for his fertil- 

 izers, then save what he can from his barn-yard, plow deeper 

 and cultivate better. If the Dixons and Wothens can make 

 from three to five bales per acre, why should w^e put up with 

 one bale for from three to five acres? Brother Mulligan said 

 muscle and brain were needed, and he is right about it. The 

 fault is with us. If our patches are not just what we w^ant 

 them to be, we must make them so. Our Creator has done 

 his part, and left it to man to develop the hidden resources 

 stored away in nature's labyrinthean recesses; earth, air and 

 water, all are teeming with material to supply the wants of 

 man. 



Necessity has been called the mother of invention, and the 

 direst necessity often produces the most beneficial results; 

 and who knows, brethren, but that the very difficulties which 

 now encompass us may be fraught with some great blessing to 

 the tillers of the soil. We have gotten into a fog; we must 

 arouse to a sense of our danger, and with strong hands steer 

 clear of the disastrous rocks of debt, too much cotton, and 

 poor culture. 



Mr. President, I believe more profit can be realized from 

 ten acres well cultivated than from fifty in the ordinary way, 

 thereby both lessening the cost of production and increasing 



