thing to eat, prove to them what joy and health are to be found out in 

 the pure air under the open sky, then the nation would be well fed, 

 and being well fed would bring contentment, and money would hardly 

 be needed ; and by all producing a little, much time would be saved and 

 thus allow the tired nerves to relax. 



We are rushing on and on and on, with never a pause to whiff the 

 fragrance of the rose or listen to a song bird. We arise by tEe alarm 

 clock, rush off without breakfast, hurry forth in crowded and stuffy 

 cars, sit in musty, dusty, dull offices all day, only to return in the same 

 monotonous jam and hasten to bed that we may be able to arise by 

 the clock tomorrow morning. When the alarm rings the next morning 

 we yawn and say, in the words of Arnold Bennett, "O Lord! Another 

 day! What a grind!" 



We work long hours in unhealthy places day after day, year in and 

 year out, and what is our recompense? Merely enough food of the 

 customary mixtures to satisfy our hunger, enough clothes of various 

 hues to cover our bodies, and a bed under a roof too seldom our own. 

 What do we know of freedom? What do we know of the inspiration 

 from the early morning air as we behold the birth of a new day in the 

 rising sun? The green trees are full of song birds, but are we thrilled 

 by their music? We read of the fragrance of flowers in novels, but too 

 seldom perceive with our own nostrils the sweet perfumes. 



It only takes a small plot of very fertile soil mixed with water and 

 sunshine on which to produce a little paradise. The imagination can 

 hardly picture the luxuries that can be produced in the little back 

 yards. If I should place in your hand a magic wand, and you waft 

 this wand over your back yard and there springs up good things to eat 

 in the way of crisp, tender vegetables, strawberries, raspberries, black- 

 berries, fruits, etc., you would be filled with wonder. 



I am going to tell you of a power, and this power is not a wand, not 

 a dream, but a power that will make each a creator; and from the soil 

 lying idle in the back yard you will mold delicious things to eat and 

 beautiful flowers to behold, and shapely trees for shade, and fruit. 

 And what is this wonderful leaven for the soil that will make every 

 clod feel a stir of might, an instinct within it that reaches and towers, 

 and, groping blindly above it for light, climbs to a soul in grass and 

 flowers? It is nothing more or less than fertilizer, common ordinary 

 fertilizer. But where will you get this fertilizer? From your own 

 fertilizer factory. 



On the back of each small town lot miniature farm should be a 

 fertilizer factory. In this fertilizer factory you produce all the rich 

 fertilizer needed for the garden, and more too. What do you manu- 

 facture this fertilizer out of? Out of cabbage, beets, kale, alfalfa, 

 cauliflower. But you say these things are expensive and tedious to 

 grow, and too valuable to use as fertilizer. But when I tell you that 

 these little machines in your fertilizer factory will take these raw 

 vegetables and extract every ounce of nourishment from them, and 

 will condense them into small, neat packages nicely wrapped in white, 

 round shells, and that the contents of these little white shells contain 

 the very most nourishing food, exceedingly palatable, then you can 

 begin to realize what a wonderful little factory this is. 



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