of. I met him out in the woods one morning and was 

 surprised to find him with an armful of stones, roots 

 and specimens that he must have been hours gathering. 

 Asked him if he came out before breakfast and he said : 

 " No, just took a cup of coffee before coming out and af- 

 ter I got here, stubbed my toe and took a roll." 

 I met Wilson Fay there. You must meet him when you 

 visit Roycroft. He knows more than any man I ever 

 met about earth, trees, grasses, flowers, birds, beasts, 

 (our kind excepted), rocks, stones and everything in na- 

 ture. His knowledge is wonderful, his language is poetry 

 itself, for it is the language of flowers. Think of 



A tree, a shrub, a radiant flower, 



A crystal brook, a shaded bower, 



A sunlit field, a golden day 



And you know the soul of Wilson Fay. 



He will pick up a weed, and from its leaves and roots 

 read a poem to you. He says there are no noxious weeds, 

 that a noxious weed is a plant we do not understand, and 

 is not that true of men? The poor fellow going to. the 

 dogs thru drink no, not to the dogs, for they do not 

 drink who is shunned and reviled, called a bad weed, 

 may be only a plant we do not understand, and a little 

 kindness, a word of cheer, a smile may change his whole 

 career and make a posey of him. 



Try it on the next one you meet and you will do more 

 goed than if you handed out a quarter or half-dollar to 

 him. I don't mean to say that you should not hand out 

 the half-dollar, too, if he needs it, but if you do, don't 

 throw in a chunk of advice or a sermon it won't do any 

 good. But be kind. Kindness is like the measles, it is catch- 

 ing. I have it myself sometimes. 



Mr. Hubbard doesn't keep his visitors in the Shop talk- 

 ing about himself, he talks less of himself than any man 

 I know. He takes you out in the woods and talks plants 

 and plant life, horses, animals of all kinds, and how to 

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