added to the beauty of the fields. The sociability of the city must be
rendered possible in the country.

Farming has been made repulsive. The farmers have been unsociable and
their homes have been lonely. They have been wasteful and careless. They
have not been proud of their business.

In the first place, farming ought to be reasonably profitable. The
farmers have not attended to their own interests. They have been robbed
and plundered in a hundred ways.

No farmer can afford to raise corn and oats and hay to sell. He should
sell horses, not oats; sheep, cattle and pork, not corn. He should make
every profit possible out of what he produces. So long as the farmers of
Illinois ship their corn and oats, so long they will be poor,--just so
long will their farms be mortgaged to the insurance companies and banks
of the east,--just so long will they do the work and others reap the
benefit,--just so long will they be poor, and the money lenders grow
rich,--just so long will cunning avarice grasp and hold the net profits
of honest toil. When the farmers of the west ship beef and pork instead
of grain,--when we manufacture here,--when we cease paying tribute to
others, ours will be the most prosperous country in the world.

Another thing--It is just as cheap to raise a good as a poor breed of
cattle. Scrubs will eat just as much as thoroughbreds. If you are not
able to buy Durhams and Alderneys, you can raise the corn breed. By
"corn breed" I mean the cattle that have, for several generations, had
enough to eat, and have been treated with kindness. Every farmer who
will treat his cattle kindly, and feed them all they want, will, in a
few years, have blooded stock on his farm. All blooded stock has been
produced in this way. You can raise good cattle just as you can raise
good people. If you wish to raise a good boy you must give him plenty to
eat, and treat him with kindness. In this way, and in this way only, can
good cattle or good people be produced.

Another thing--You must beautify your homes.

When I was a farmer it was not fashionable to set out trees, nor to
plant vines.

When you visited the farm you were not welcomed by flowers, and greeted
by trees loaded with fruit. Yellow dogs came bounding over the tumbled
fence like wild beasts. There is no sense--there is no profit in such a
life. It is not living. The farmers ought to beautify their homes. There
should be trees and grass and flowers and running vines.