MEMORIAL HOUR, JOHN 8. HARRIS. 327 



But he wrought none the less assiduously for all that. He took 

 great pride in his work, and it was a commendable pride. He was 

 proud in the belief that his were works that would live, and bless 

 while they lived, those who would come after him. Epitaph in 

 sculptured stone he may not have, but one is graven upon the trunk 

 and stem of every tree and vine that he induced others to plant and 

 taught how to care for. His praises may not be sung in cathedral 

 grand, nor in the chambers of the great, but in grove, orchard and 

 vineyard that he inspired the growing of the nesting birds will sing 

 his praises with sweeter note, and for countless years to come ! 



He was not an educated man in the sense that familiarity with 

 school and college curriculum imply, but he had natural intellectual 

 gifts of a high order. His mind was clear and analytical. 

 Problems that confronted him in his chosen work he solved as if 

 by intuition. His theories were based upon reason, his philosophy 

 was the best test of the soundness and conservativeness of his judg- 

 ment. His convictions were clear cut and easily transmitted to 

 others, because his courage of them gave others confidence in them, 

 and because they rested largely upon his own demonstrations. 



For one without a high education, and with no culture but that 

 of self, Mr. Harris had wonderful ability as a writer. His style was 

 at once easy, smooth and simple. He never found the least diffi- 

 culty in making himself clearly understood, and through all his 

 writings there ran a vein of candor, sincerity and mastery of sub- 

 ject that impressed the reader that he was perusing the words of a 

 teacher upon whose instructions he could confidently rely. 



The eulogist or biographer of Mr. Harris need have no fear of 

 finding aught to mar his subject if he crosses the threshold of his 

 home and learns the story of his private life. His geniality, his 

 courtesy, his fidelity and consideration for others were not qualities 

 for display in public or among strangers ; they were parts of his 

 life, and in no place did he live them so truly as in his own home ; 

 their luster was never brighter than when shining in his own family 

 circle. His not luxurious but picturesque home on the lofty banks 

 of the Father of Waters ; its surrounding trees, vines, shrubs and 

 flowers ; the tools he wrought with, the books he read, the table he 

 wrote upon, the spirit of his presence through and over them all, 

 will amply justify pilgrimages by friends and disciples for many 

 years to come. And the story of his home life that may perchance 

 be heard there will enlarge the admiration and love of the pilgrims. 



Loyalty to friends, to neighborhood and state was a part of his 

 nature. After visiting sunnier climes, after a long visit to his 

 native Ohio, or from any other protracted absence, he would return 



