We shall face a famine, so long as our door-yards are all lawn in front and all garbage-can behind. We have farmers enough--one to every eight of our population, I believe--who might produce sufficient raw potatoes; but Aroostook County is barely contiguous to the United States, and such a barrage of frost was laid down across its borders this last winter that, if one brought potatoes out of Aroostook between December and March, he had to bear them in his bosom. Aroostook County is the greatest potato-patch in the world; the American imagination loves to hover over the tubered tracts of Aroostook, the _richest_ county in the world; loves to feel that the world could be fed from Aroostook, were it not for the triple alliance of the cold and the contiguity and a railroad that runs, if not like a broken tooth, then like a foot out of joint, into these remote dreamlands of Maine. Woe to them that go down to the railroads for help; and stay on engines and trust in empties, because they are many; and in officials, because they are very strong. Now the officials are men and not God, and their engines steel and not spirit. Why should a rational, spiritual human society trust its well-being to such paltry powers, when all the forces of nature are at its command? I will put more trust in an acre of land than in a Continental Congress. I had rather have a hoe at my right hand than an army of bank presidents. Give me the rising and the setting sun, the four seasons, and the peasant’s portion; and you may have the portion of the president. I said we have farmers enough to raise all we need. We have more than enough. We have more than enough bankers; more than enough automobile-makers; more than enough store-keepers; more than enough coal-miners; more than enough cooks and janitors. But we have nowhere near enough landowners and peasants. Nothing in the world would so straighten out society as to declare next year a Year of Jubilee, and give every man, not a job, but his birthright, a piece of land. We are over-organized and almost de-individualized. But the time must again come when every man shall dig and every woman spin, and every family build its own automobile, distill its own petrol, and work out its taxes on the road. We shall always hold to the social principle of the division of labor--I plough for you; and you shoe my horse for me. But we have carried the principle, in our over-organization, to the point where a man’s whole part in the world’s work consists in putting on the left hind wheel of endless automobiles.