1895 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTQRE. 



749 



ed their lips. It is really too bad to find fault, 

 after all I have said: but the water was too 

 warm to be refreshing: in fact, it tasted like 

 the time-honored dishwater; and then I had 

 just recovered from a lit of sickness, possibly 

 caused by drinking from sulphur springs, and I 

 knew it would not answer at all. I am told, 

 however, that, like other sulphur waters, when 

 exposed to the air, and then cooled with ice, it 

 is very palatable. I never thought, at the time, 

 to try any of the Florida waters after boiling. 

 As I write, however, I feel pretty sure I could 

 drink them hot after a sufficient lapse of time 

 after my regular meals. 



Before I bade friend Adams good-bye I had 

 quite a little confidential talk with him; and 

 his closing remarks still come up in my me- 

 mory together with the memory of that beauti- 

 ful Green Cove Spring, only more refreshing. 

 As nearly I can remember, he said something 

 like this: 



" Mr. Root, I especially wished to have you 

 make me a visit. I am not much of a bee- 

 keeper now. In fact, I do not take Gleanings 

 because of what it has to say on bee culture. 

 There is something else that interests me. For 

 many long years I have been in the habit of 

 reading my Bible more or less every day. For 

 a good many years I did it from a sense of duty, 

 and not because I was particularly interested 

 in it. I want to tell yon now. however, that, 

 for several years hack, the Bible has been 

 growing more precious to me every day. Now 

 it is a ./oy and pleasure to make it my daily 

 reading. I love it because I believe it is God's 

 message to his children, and I am trying to 

 bring up my motherless boy and girl in the fear 

 of the Lord." 



As he gave my hand a parting pressure and 

 wished me Godspeed, I recalled to mind that, 

 during the afternoon, when we were hunting 

 for the father. I had enjoyed having a very 

 earnest talk with the younger Frederic; and 

 he almost gave me his promise to commence 

 then and there, from that day forward, to seek 

 the kingdom of God, and his righteousness. 

 May God's blessing, and rhay the Holy Spirit, 

 finish the work that I in weakness had only 

 just begun. 



Our Homes. 



And he shall turn tlie hetirt of the fathers to the 

 children, and tlie hearty of the children to their fa- 

 thers.— Malachi 4 : 6. 



ALMOST A MAN. 



A few days ago I was much moved by read- 

 ing a little book by Dr. Mary Wood Allen, en- 

 titled, "Almost a Man." Its line of thought 

 was a little different from the one I am going 

 to talk about to-day: but still it set me to 

 thinking of the boys around us and in our 

 homes, who are almost men, and of the eirls 

 who are a/most women. It set me to thinking 

 that a good many times even their own fathers 

 and mothers hardly realize that the children 

 are children no longer, but almost men and 

 women. It was only yesterday, in the busy 

 part of the day, when letters were being passed 

 about the office from one to the other, that the 

 following touching appeal was all at once held 

 before my face: 



Dear BrnlTin- Root:— \M\n\e I was at the State 

 Fail- my son, X. Y. Z., ran away In a most unfortu- 

 nate manner. I send yen the letter he left. Asa 

 trutliful exjjlanation of our relations, lie never 

 took any interest in our liusiness; had learned to 

 drink, use fol^acco, and gamble, and I eould not 

 lielp keeping up a never-ceasing protest. He has 

 many good qualities, and I can not abandon him. 



I want him to return at once to his duty. Write to 

 liim, and help mc save my darling- son. A. B. C. 



I read it over; and I hope that the dear 

 friend whose name appears at the bottom will 

 forgive me for deciding, before I had gone fur- 

 ther, that he was at least somewhat to blame. 

 Before discussing this further, however, let us 

 consider the letter inclosed with the above: 



Father:—! am about to do something that I dread 

 the worst of any tiling T ever attempted. I can not 

 keep the tears back when 1 ihink of leaving the 

 dear old home; but I am afraid we are so poorly 

 calculated to live tt)gether, that it is not advisable 

 tor us to try it any fui'ther. I do not blame you 

 altogellier. I know I liave often done wrong my- 

 self; and we both being wrong is what caused the 

 trouble. I do not dt'spise you now (as you may 

 think); I wisli you the greatest possible success, 

 and hope yott may get yoiu-self into circumstances 

 wliere you will be a great deal happier than you ever 

 were with me. 



I may have done wrong in taking as much with me 

 as 1 did; tjut it seems to me as though I de.serve 

 some consideration, as I do not expect to get any 

 thing after I leave this time. I fully appreciate 

 what you say aljout the chance a person has who 

 goes out In the world alone now, and I should think 

 yoti would be willing for me to have something for 

 a little start at leHst. I intend to go out to work, 

 and save my money and hunt up a good location, 

 and get into bees as soon as possible. 



I do not like tlie euwardly way I have taken in 

 getting away. It makes me sick when I think of it, 

 and I am very sorry now I ever did it this way; but 

 it is too late now. Somehow I thought it was the 

 only way. 



Father, I will tell you where the key to our trou- 

 ble is. It is in the fact of my tjeing of a naturally 

 uimieiable va'iire; l)ut I don't think I am to blame 

 for tliat. I think If I am out among people, and on 

 my own resources, it will benefit me in tliat line. 

 The reason I am not going to bid the folks good-by 

 is because I know ihat, at the word, T should lose 

 all control of myself. It is bad enough to leave the 

 way I will, to think of leaving all the neighbors and 

 friends. I liave to grit my teeth and turn the sub- 

 ject from my mind. I do not expect to liave half 

 what I have been used to having here; but what I 

 am after is more agreeable personal surroundings. 

 I know that, under the circumstances, as we have 

 been living I would ruin all chances for myself, 

 and do no good for you or any one else, and at the 

 same time spoil ray health and whatever good na- 

 ture I do have. 



I do not want to diop you now altogether. I 

 should like very much to hear from you often, for I 

 know your intentions are the ve7y beM. When T 

 get where T am going ] will write to you the first 

 thing Repeating tlie wish that you may be happy 

 and successful in all your undertakings, 



I am your son. 



X. Y. Z. 



P. S.— I took just seven eases of honey. 



Both of the above letters are exceedingly 

 touching. Indeed, they will bring tears to 

 many a parent's eyes, and perhaps also to the 

 eyes of many a son or daughter. I do not know 

 the boy's age; but whatever the age may be, I 

 suppose he is at that critical period that I spoke 

 of — almost a man. 



When I was about 17 years old I was bashful 

 and timid. I did not know how to act, and 

 was afraid of society; but all at once there 

 came a reaction. Something new seemed 

 growing within me, and I, like friend X. Y. Z., 

 felt as if it would do me good to get out into 

 the world. While I still maintain that there is 

 no friend to be found like the father and moth- 

 er, I am at the same time forced to the conclu- 

 sion that it oftentimes does a boy good— yes, 

 and his father good too. but oftener the father 

 than the mother — to let him go away from 

 home awhile. My father and I were very much 

 unlike — at least, when I was 17. In fact, our 

 tastes ran in such different channels we were 

 not very much "in touch." Mother, however, 

 was a sort of bridge between us two. I longed 

 for some expressions in regard to the mother in 



