his random self-education; his years in the army (he had
criticised his superior officers, thereby losing the promotion
that was coming for bravery in the field); his marriage
(apparently he had married his wife because another man had jilted her);
his wrestle with nature (whose pranks included a cyclone)
on a frontier farm that he eventually lost, having put all his
savings into a "Greenback" newspaper, and being thus swamped
with debt; his final slow success in paying for his Iowa farm;
and his purchase of the new farm, with its resulting disaster.
"I've farmed in Kansas," he said, "in Nebraska, in Dakota, in Iowa.
I was willing to go wherever the land promised. It always
seemed like I was going to succeed, but somehow I never did.
The world ain't fixed right for the workers, I take it.
A man who has spent thirty years in hard, honest toil oughtn't
to be staring ruin in the face like I am to-day. They won't let it
be so when we have the single tax and when we farmers send our own men
instead of city lawyers, to the Legislature and halls of Congress.
Sometimes I think it's the world that's wrong and sometimes I
think it's me!"

The reply came in crisp and assured accents, which were the strongest
contrast to Nelson's soft, undecided pipe: "Seems to me in this
last case the one most to blame is neither you nor the world at large,
but this man Richards, who is asking YOU to pay for HIS farm.
And I notice you don't seem to consider your creditor in this business.
How do you know she don't need the money? Look at me, for instance;
I'm in some financial difficulty myself. I have a mortgage for two
thousand dollars, and that mortgage--for which good value was given,
mind you--falls due this month. I want the money. I want it bad.
I have a chance to put my money into stock at the factory.