no stone should be
left unturned to elevate the living conditions of the Average Citizen
to the highest possible plane. He believes that the status of a nation
depends upon the status of its Average Citizen and in that he does not
consider himself to be preaching Socialism but Common Sense.

Come back to the country store--to the Country Retailer who is pulling
on the other end of the whiffle-tree with the Farmer for community
progress. Each is necessary to the other and it is a vital matter if
the co-operation of the Farmer is going to kill off a teammate,
especially when tandeming right behind them are the Clydesdales of
Commerce, the Wholesaler and the Manufacturer. With the Farmer kicking
over the traces, the Retailer biting and squealing at the Wholesaler
every little while and the Manufacturer with his ears laid back flat
this distribution of merchandize in Western Canada is no easy problem.
It is bringing the Bankers to their aristocratic portals all along the
route and about the only onlooker who is calm and serene is the
Mail-Order Man as he passes overhead post-haste in the Government
flying machine.

"I'd get along alright if the Farmer would pay up his debts to me,"
cries the Retailer. "I've been giving him too long a line of credit
and now he's running rings around me and tying me up in a knot. When
he gets some money he goes and buys from my competitors for cash or he
buys more land and machinery. If I shorten the rope he busts it and
runs away!"

"I'd be alright if everybody else would mind their own business,"
grumbles the Wholesaler. "Just trot along there now! Pay your bills,
Farmer. Improve your service, Retailer. Don't ask me about high or
low tariff. I've got my hands full with established lines and it's my
business to supply them as cheaply as is consistent with quality. I
want to see everybody succeed and it isn't fair to include me in any
mix-up. Only the humming of that confounded flying-machine up
there--Can't somebody bring down that Mail-Order bird? He isn't paying
his share of the taxes while I've helped to finance this country."

"We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves," sings the
Manufacturer. "Giddap, Dobbin!"

"'Money makes the mare go,'" quotes the Finance Minister, taking
another look out of the window at the War Cloud. "'Money comes from
the Soil,'" and he push-buttons a buzz-bell over in the Department of
Agriculture.

"Send out the choir and let's h