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Rh it. But "the man with the hoe" still indicts Christian civilization.

He has no eight-hour day; he competes with women and children who put no price on their labor; his surplus products are dumped, almost as refuse, his milk to the milk contractor, his potatoes to the starch factory. He has no storage for apples when, in an abundant season, they are not worth the price of the barrel. Heaven's sun itself appears to compete with him. He has never been taught that there is only one wealth for the farmer, and that is large storage backed by broad acres, quickly cultivated by machinery. His great machine, the horse, for spring and fall ploughing, "eats his head off" in an idle winter.

His redemption cannot come through the parcel post or oil-smoothed roads for city motors, or by state and national agricultural bureaus.

The redemption of "the man with the hoe" will come through the gasolene motor that will plough spring and fall, cultivate all summer, chop wood in the winter, and not "eat its head off."

The ambition of Henry Ford is a gasolene tractor within reach of the farmer. Success here