would never enter his head," was the reply.

"Has he always lived here? Doesn't he ever get far enough away from
home to know what the rest of the world is doing, or is he just plain
lazy?" asked his friend.

"Neither, Al. In fact, he spent two years on the big farms in the
West, and I had hoped he would wake up our farmers with new ideas when
he came back and bought the old homestead. But I've been disappointed.
He's one of those powerful men, who thinks that farming is a matter of
physical strength rather than thoughtful planning. He doesn't seem to
see the advantage of headwork. True, it's going to take a lot of hard
work to redeem this old place with its dilapidated buildings and
broken-down fences, but headwork will help a lot. Why, do you know,
Al, the acreage wasted by rail fences on this farm alone would raise
enough corn each year to send a boy to college."

"Yes, and what's more," he continued, "here's an old pond full of the
richest soil in the whole county--soil that's been washed down from
the fertile fields for years--to say nothing of the drainage from
three big barns; and what does it produce?--nothing. Do you know, if I
owned this farm, I'd open the gates and let the water out, put in some
drain tile and plant this bottom land in corn. Why, when that corn got
ripe, you couldn't find a ladder long enough in the county to reach up
to the ears, the stalks would grow so high."

"Well, that would be some tall corn, John," laughed his friend, "but
I've no doubt it's just as you say--this bottom would raise fine corn.
Speaking of that, you ought to see some of the corn I've seen in the
bottom lands out in Illinois and Iowa, But what about electricity if