AN OLD FARM 149 



never heard a false word spoken. And 

 I never discovered any sly schemes to 

 render small deceptions inevitable to some 

 one. Life on that old farm was as frankly 

 open to all concerned as a great prairie 

 is open to all the winds. Nor was there 

 any "trick within the law," such as is some- 

 times used in country trading. James 

 Doolittle was not a David Harum. He 

 was not "all-fired keen at a bargain." Not 

 easily could he be fooled himself, but he 

 had no ambition, in a tussle of wits, to 

 win by cheating the other man. 



In Wisconsin I once saw a patch of 

 delicate columbines growing on the sheer 

 face of a ragged cliff. James Doolittle 

 and that Wisconsin cliff are in my mind 

 together, for his rugged character was 

 adorned by the most delicately beautiful 

 thing belonging to the religious life, that 

 is, reverence. On his farm no cheap tri- 

 fling with sacred things was countenanced. 

 He did not make Christ an easy com- 

 modity for pious phrases either. Our 



