184 HAPPY HOLLOW FARM 



I know now what's the matter with that hoss 

 of your'n." 



"Yes," the farmer returned grimly, "so do 

 I know what's the matter with him now. He's 

 dead." 



"No, but listen!" the doctor urged. "I run 

 acrost a picture in the almanac that it said had 

 that same kind of a complaint. I don't know 

 how you'd pronounce it, but the way it was 

 spelled was d-e-b-i-1-i-t-y de-bil-7/-ty, I guess 

 you'd call it. I'm tol'able sure that's what 

 ailed him!" 



That struck us as funny when we heard it; 

 but it's not a speck funnier than many and 

 many a "break" we made in getting acquainted 

 with the land. It's just everlastingly interest- 

 ing to me to discover how stone blind a man 

 may be in his mind who has gone through life 

 with his two eyes open. Wasn't it Ruskin 

 who remarked that the gift of understanding 

 sight is the rarest of all rarer even than abil- 

 ity to think? There's a lot in that. After the 

 experience of these years, I'd be willing to bet 

 money, marbles or chalk that I could take any 

 farmer I know into his own yard, only a couple 

 of rods from his own door, and lose him com- 

 pletely in a maze of familiar things. Just to 



