So they may
still come and fish for trout here.''
As we walked one day beside this brook, he
suddenly said: ``Did you ever notice that every
brook has its own song? I should know the song
of this brook anywhere.''
It would seem as if he loved his rugged native
country because it is rugged even more than because
it is native! Himself so rugged, so hardy,
so enduring--the strength of the hills is his also.
Always, in his very appearance, you see something
of this ruggedness of the hills; a ruggedness,
a sincerity, a plainness, that mark alike his
character and his looks. And always one realizes
the strength of the man, even when his voice, as
it usually is, is low. And one increasingly realizes
the strength when, on the lecture platform or in
the pulpit or in conversation, he flashes vividly
into fire.
A big-boned man he is, sturdy-framed, a tall
man, with broad shoulders and strong hands.
His hair is a deep chestnut-brown that at first
sight seems black. In his early manhood he was
superb in looks, as his pictures show, but anxiety
and work and the constant flight of years, with
physical pain, have settled his face into lines of
sadness and almost of severity, which instantly
vanish when he speaks.
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