Thirteen millions of laborers in this country produce annually four thousand millions dollars of wealth, every dollar of which over and above the cost of living is paid over to appease the demands of this insatiate monster—this horrid demon, whose name is Interest.
Woodhull highlights the vast wealth produced by laborers, which is largely siphoned off by interest.
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At no time since the close of the Revolutionary War has there been a time more fitting and inviting for such a work.
It will only be considered as a means to other and higher ends.
Or will they sell their birthright for less than a “mess of pottage?” Is it necessary that some great calamity come before an awakening to the reality of the condition will occur?
Charity, with its long cloak of justice escaped, has long enough covered a multitude of sins.