By George Matthew Adams

He is kind and gentle. Truth plays within his yard during the hours of sun and light, and comes at nightfall to add laughter to the sound of voices that interchange in tales of work and thinking.

Being just, he is strong. Being human, he is sometimes weak. But he is always a master!

That is why folks of all sorts hunt out his house and like to come and spend hours underneath his roof.

Observant, keen, full of ripe intelligence, his knowledge is that of the world much more than that of books. So that his ideas and reflections are always such that the simplest minded may easily understand, and grow in richness therefrom.

Often, of an evening in winter, have I seen, with my mind's eye, this master, sitting quietly beside his hospitable fire amongst those whom he loves. And in the dusk of summer have I seen him play with happy children along the singing creek, just a little back of his home.

For the master of the house is a father, brother, boy — friend! So all may look to him in love, happiness or sorrow. For interwoven within his experience are all the elements that go to make up a man.

The master of the house, whom I have in mind is he whom you may be. The house is the body where you live.

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