OUR WORN SOILS 67 



the rainfall is sufficient to insure perfect crop 

 growth, capable of producing enough to feed mil- 

 lions of people that now lie like fallow soil, grow- 

 ing back into a wilderness as dense as the wilder- 

 ness from which they were rescued centuries ago. 

 These farms are set in landscapes beautiful be- 

 yond comparison, interspersed by perfect roads, 

 watered by springs and streams of never failing 

 sparkling pure water, much of which can be har- 

 nessed by dams and made to move the wheels that 

 will manufacture the electricity to light the homes, 

 barns, and move the many machines now manu- 

 factured for the farmer's use. 



Why has the desolation of abandonment spread 

 its solemn mantle over this splendid region, once 

 busy with toiling, yet happy, prosperous people, 

 owners of delightful homes surrounded by glo- 

 rious church and educational privileges? 



The lure of the West and of the city threw its 

 spell around its young people. They wandered 

 from the old homestead. The God fearing and 

 peace loving father and mother sat empty hearted, 

 desolate and distressed around the hearthstone, 

 stared with aching eyes and broken hearts into 

 the vacant chairs ; sorrowed away their lives, died 

 and were laid to rest in the country churchyard, 

 and no one was left to care for the old farm, for 

 the young people who had left the old homes were 

 yet beneath the influence of the spell that led them 

 away, or were bowed down by circumstances that 

 would not allow them to come back to their child- 

 hood's home. So these farms became tenantless, 

 the hand of abandonment fell upon them. 



Yet there was an underlying cause for this state 



