e field with alfalfa. I wanted to have alfalfa growing in the
field next to the road for my own pleasure and for the pleasure of
the passers-by. A field of alfalfa is an ornament to any landscape,
and I like to have my landscapes ornamental, even if I must pay for
it in terms of manual toil. I had never even seen alfalfa seed and
did not in the least know how to proceed in preparing the soil. If I
ever expected to have any freedom I must first learn the truth, and a
certain modicum of freedom necessarily precedes the joy of alfalfa.

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