20 THE WAR GARDEN VICTORIOUS 
slant jerk, all wives and kids and voters. I’m helping 
out from day to day, with no delays or pauses, tobacco 
funds, Y. M. C. A. and other worthy causes. I’m told 
that war bonds I must buy, in twos and fours and 
dozens, enough to make a full supply for all my aunts 
and cousins. For war stamps, too, those signs of thrift, 
I dig into my pocket, to give my Uncle Sam a lift in 
cleaning up his docket. I’m taxed for building wooden 
ships with good, old-fashioned rigging, and in my little 
daily trips I’m constantly kept digging. I dig to pay 
tobacco tax, and tax for railway travel. I’m always 
chipping from my stacks; they keep me scratching 
gravel. But I’ve no kick for those who come with all 
their pleas beguiling. It never makes me sad nor glum. 
They always find me smiling. I know that I’m too old 
to fight; I can’t be caught renigging. So I regard it 
just and right that I should keep on digging. And then 
besides, it’s proved to me that every man is bigger if 
he will teach himself to be a willing war-time digger. 
It’s not enough for us to sing about the joy of giving. 
We’ve got to dig for everything we need to keep on 
living. We’ve got to dig in our back yards for carrots, 
beans, and ’taters; we’ve got to dig both long and hard 
as garden cultivators. So take your trusty hoe and 
spade and start your spring-time sowing. Just dig and 
get a garden made and set the foodstuff growing. 
In order to catch the attention of the man in the 
street, several striking posters were prepared by the 
Commission and placed in conspicuous places in com- 
munities in every part of the land. On bulletin-boards, 
in railway stations, libraries, stores, at factory entrances, 
and even in clubs, banks and commercial houses, these 
striking posters met the eye. They were also repro- 
