1893 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



859 



does not. I very much prpfer to have a boy, or 

 even a hired man, who disobeys orders when 

 circumstances seem to justify so doing. I have 

 loeen exceedingly vexed with a certain kind of 

 people who go on and obey orders, when they 

 can see plainly it is going to bring disaster and 

 loss. Of course, the hired man or boy does not 

 nlways know what to do. It depends on who 

 the boss is. He is likely to get scolded either 

 way if he has a fault-linding employer or father. 

 Where one does the best he can. according to 

 his knowledge and ability, but after all errs in 

 judgment, he should certainly be dealt with 

 very leniently. May God help me to practice 

 exactly what I am preaching now; and I cer- 

 tainly ivill try harder to remember what I have 

 said right here. 



Now a word about admitting you can not 

 help doing certain things when you are " real 

 mad." I remember a person who admitted that 

 « it is very ungentlemanly and wrong to swear; 

 but he said that, wIkmi he was real mad. he 

 could not help it. Let us look into this a little. 

 A good many people seem to think it a very 

 light thing to admit they do not have command 

 of themselves at certain times and under cer- 

 tain circumstances. Suppose somebody should 

 tell you that he had spells of being crazy, and 

 that, during these crazy spells, he might swear 

 or tight or commit murder, but that there was 

 no help for it. By the way, I have in years 

 past, as you know, made this matter of insanity 

 a study. I have often wondered why crazy peo- 

 ple are invariably so exceedingly provoking. 

 If one's mind is unhinged, so that he is not at 

 all responsible for what he does, why should he 

 seem to take delight in exasperating everybody 

 around him beyond measure? I have some- 

 times thought that these people have a Satanic 

 ingenuity in devising ways to vex their best 

 friends: and I have sometimes decided that 

 crazy and idiotic people are at least partly re- 

 sponsible. There are many phases of insanity. 

 Sometimes it seems hard to tell whether the 

 person is crazy or only tremendously ugly. 

 Well, of late I have been wondering whether 

 one who has symptoms of insanity could not, 

 by a tremendous mental effort, hold it back — at 

 least a part of it — or keep it in check. I have 

 wondered, too. whether God would not help 

 those who are really anxious to keep back in- 

 cipient insanity. And. by the way, if I am cor- 

 rect, one of the writers of some of our most 

 beautiful hymns, during most of his life, battled 

 and prayed against this very thing. And, final- 

 ly, what is an unruly temper, after all. but a 

 kind of insanity — a kind of madness that grows 

 fearfully if we give it sway? Do not. I beg of 

 you, O my sister or brother, say again, if you 

 ever have been guilty of saying it, that you can 

 not help giving way to temper under certain 

 circumstances. The mayor of Chicago has just 

 been foully murdered. Was the assassin crazy, 

 or was he simply ugly ? Are anarchists crazy, 

 or are they simply individuals who have gotten 

 so very far away from Christ's teachings that 

 they take delight in trampling law, order, and 

 decency, and common sense in regard to the 

 rights of others, under foot? 



Now. then, my friend, if you have at times in 

 in your life felt afraid insanity was lurking 

 near, please believe me when I tell you that the 

 best remedy in the whole wide world for every 

 thing of this sort is to make God's holy word 

 your daily companion and guide; and if you 

 are a father or a mother, please believe me 

 when I tell you that nothing in this world will 

 hold together the family circle in loving har- 

 mony as will the sentiment conveyed in the lit- 

 tle text I started out with. 



Thou shalt teacli tliese words dilig-ently unto tliy 

 childreti, and thou shalt talk of them when thou 



sittest in thine house, and wlieii thou walkest by 

 the way, and wlien thou liest down, and when thou 

 risest up. 



Notes of Travel 



ON THE WHEEL. 



My cousin, Wilbur Fenn, notified me the first 

 week in November that he was digging that 

 nine acres of Monroe Seedling potatoes; and on 

 Monday, Nov. 6, as it was a beautiful Indian- 

 summer day, I started out. Was there ever 

 any recreation invented like the pleasures we 

 get from a wheel when we have such beautiful 

 weather in November? My first drink of de- 

 licious spring water was a little beyond Sharon; 

 and there I got an idea of a roadside watering- 

 trough. This trough was but an ordinary one 

 — made. I think, of sione — but the water poured 

 into it from a f4-inch pipe standing at an angle 

 of 4.T degrees. The stream went up into the air 

 perhaps three or four feet, and then came over in 

 a beautiful curve, dropping in the center of the 

 trough. Its splashing and spattering on that 

 bright morning seemed to me a thing of beauty 

 and a joy for ever. As it is in the vicinity of 

 Spruce Run. the water was pure and soft. The 

 owner had taken the precaution to have a part 

 of the trough inside of his own dooryard; and 

 on the edge of the trough was a rather nice 

 drinking-cup. I took it to be originally silver- 

 plated, but I may be mistaken. It bore the 

 marks of use; and I am inclined to think, from 

 the simple fact that it was inside of the door- 

 yard, nobody had seen fit to carry it away. 

 Another thing, the proprietor had made care- 

 ful provision for the overflow, so that it should 

 not make a sloppy and muddy place outside of 

 the gate. Now, I believe in this kind of religion 

 — furnishing pure water for the thirsty traveler; 

 and I rather think everbody believes in it. Let 

 us have more of it. Here is one common basis 

 on which we can all unite. Perhaps the saloon- 

 keeper might object; but I hardly think that 

 even he would. Look here, friends; are there 

 any saloon-keepers who take Gleanings? If 

 so, and we have been too severe on them, or 

 even if they think so, I wish they would speak 

 out, for I will publish any thing they think fit 

 to send us. 



In a little more time my wheel brought me to 

 Mr. Atwood's celery-farm. I was anxious to 

 know whether he had yet put his celery into 

 winter quarters. Sure enough, it was right out 

 there in the open swamp, as bright and green 

 as it was in August— yes, brighter and ranker; 

 for he has now a beautiful stream of pure run- 

 ning water, like that from the trough I had 

 just visited. He has succeeded, too, by a series 

 of gates and dams, so that this bright stream 

 of running water can be made to flood any part 

 of his whole celery-farm if need be. I tell you. 

 when I saw how our Creston neighbors had 

 worked with a steam-boiler and injector, so 

 that they might run water in a hosc^ along the 

 rows of plants. I thought Mr. Atwood ought to 

 be a happy man, and I rather think he is. 

 There is one thing, however, he did not feel 

 very happy about that bright morning. His 

 White IMumc celery is not all disposed of. 

 Some was out in the field; but the greater part 

 of it was stored in an immense celery-house. 

 This house has a roof of boards low down, with 

 doors at each end, and ventilators about every 

 20 feet along the ridge. Then, in order to keep 

 the celery from wilting, he raised the water so 

 the ground was quite moist inside of the build- 

 ing. Well, the White Plum(! did not take very 

 kindly to this plan of being housed. I should 



