THIRTY-SEVENTH ANNUAL CONVENTION. 155 



over in Indiana. Fellow citizens, I am reminded today of that 

 popular musical play, "The Time, the Place and the Girl." 

 Synonymous with this thought is my impression of the time at 

 which this meeting is being held, as well as the place and the 

 purpose. In the language of Herbert Kaufman, "Time, the 

 Eternal book-keeper, is closing another ledger." To me, it is a 

 time for serious thought; the clock of time has struck the clos- 

 ing hours of the dying year; we have held the pulseless hand of 

 19 1 o, and at the same time have felt the throbbing touch of the 

 hand of 191 1, as the new year was ushered in with its bright 

 prospects, joy and hope of triumphant success. In the year that 

 is gone, have we made the burdens of life heavier or lighter; 

 have we scattered sunshine or cast shadows ; is the world better 

 that we have lived? Some of us are at the base of life's moun- 

 tain while others have almost reached the top. As we balance 

 our books to open a new account, let us profit by the mistakes 

 of 1910; let us avoid them in 191 1. Let us do unto others as we 

 would have others do unto us; let our motto be, "Do It Now." 

 The touch of human sympathy is like sunshine to the drooping 

 flower; let us lend a helping hand to the unfortunate; let us help 

 to bear somebody's burden ; let us prove to the world that we 

 believe in the Brotherhood of Man. 



Are you loyal to your convictions? Are you loyal to the 

 sacred trust placed in your hands by an ever-ruling Providence 

 and a confiding public? Are you true to the requirements of 

 the statutes? Are you true to the voice of conscience? Are 

 your books balanced ? Is your record clear ? Are your accounts 

 straight? Is your business life an open book that can be read 

 by the Dairy Inspector, the public and the Supreme Judge? 

 Have you a good case? Is it prepared for the court of final 

 decision? You have doubtless made mistakes, that is our com- 

 mon lot. In the language of Homer Wilson "Let us square our 

 accounts with all mankind and draw the mantel of charity over 

 those who have misused us, and as the sands of time fall into 

 the grave of the departed year, let memory plant a few flowers 

 of perennial freshness and beauty, while the hand of love writes 



