Thus it came to pass that I set about learning the truth.  I had to learn about the nature of the soil, about drainage, about the right kinds of fertilizer, and all that, before I could even hitch the team to a plough.  Some of this truth I gleaned from books and magazines, but more of it I obtained from my neighbor John, who lives about two hundred yards up the pike from my little place.  John is a veritable encyclopedia of truth when it comes to the subject of alfalfa.  There I would sit at the feet of this alfalfa Gamaliel.  Be it said in favor of my reactions that I learned the trick of alfalfa and now have a field that is a delight to the eye.  And I now feel qualified to give lessons in alfalfa culture to all and sundry, so great is my sense of freedom.

I came upon a forlorn-looking woman once in a large railway-station who was in great distress.  She wanted to get a train, but did not know through which gate to go nor where to obtain the necessary information.  She was overburdened with luggage and a little girl was tugging at her dress and crying pitifully.  That woman was as really in bondage as if she had been in prison looking out through the barred windows.  When she had finally been piloted to the train the joy of freedom manifested itself in every lineament of her face.  She had come to know the truth, and the truth had set her free.

I know how she felt, for one night I worked for more than two hours on what, to me, was a difficult problem, and when at last I had it solved the manifestations of joy caused consternation to the family and damage to the furniture.  I never was in jail for any length of time, but I think I know, from my experience with that problem, just how a prisoner feels when he is set free.  The big out-of-doors must seem inexpressibly good to him.  My neighbor John taught me how to spray my trees, and now, when I walk through my orchard and see the smooth trunks and pick the beautiful, smooth, perfect apples, I feel that sense of freedom that can come only through a knowledge of the truth.

I haven’t looked up the etymology of grippe, but the word itself seems to tell its own story.  It seems to mean restriction, subjection, slavery.  It certainly spells lack of freedom.  I have seen many boys and girls who seemed afflicted with arithmetical, grammatical, and geographical grippe, and I have sought to free them from its tyranny and lead them forth into the sunlight and pure air of freedom.  If I only knew just how to do this effectively I think I’d be quite reconciled to the work of a schoolmaster.

CHAPTER XII

THINGS