1896 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CQLTURE. 



115 



tears of gratitude to her eyes; but in a very 

 little time they had to be removed from her 

 bedside. The doctor had cautioned us repeat- 

 edly against any excitement. Everybody was 

 kept out of the room except the nurse, one of 

 her daughters, and myself. The minister call- 

 ed; but it was thuught best not to permit him 

 to speak to her. While he was in the other 

 room, however, he heard her calling to her 

 attendant to hurry quick, for the water was 

 " boiling over " in the vase ihat held the flow- 

 ers. When they carried the flowers to her, and 

 assured her they were perfectly cool and fresh, 

 and the water was not boiling at all,* she smil- 

 ed at her mistake; but almost before they were 

 out of sight she was worried again about the 

 same thing. Even the flowers she had admired 

 so much, and which seemed to do her so much 

 good, seemed for the time being a disturbance 

 to her feverish, wandering mind. 



Pretty soon there was talk that even I should 

 not be admitted to her room. Very likely these 

 friends were right; but it seemed the hardest 

 •of the trials 1 was destined to bear. With all 

 my experience it seemed I had not yet learned 

 the tact that is needed in a sick-room. It may 

 be I worried her by my awkward speeches, 

 even though made with the best of intentions 

 Any little thing seemed to throw her naturally 

 >cool sound judgment out of balance. The crisis 

 drew near. She had not slept to do much good 

 for days, and the bromide, and even the chloral, 

 did almost BO good. She begged for an opiate; 

 but the doctor assured me it would be almost 

 •dangerous, with the tendency exhibited at that 

 time toward pneumonia. Nature was doing its 

 work, and the fever would soon be at an end ; but 

 .it was a dangerous crisis. A little mistake, the 

 merest trifle, might result fatally, or, missing 

 that, her mind might lose its balance and never 

 recover. Most of you know how often such 

 things happen. 



I have told you before that aftiiction and 

 trial often bring us new experiences. Some- 

 times we are thus taught lessons which we 

 •coxilcl not be taught otherwise. During the 

 days and nights that followed I had some new 

 experiences. I have told you about my little 

 prayer, "'Lord, help!" all along for years past. 

 A month or two ago I spoke of asking God's 

 help when the water- pipes got out of order; 

 and again when I was seeking to rescue a fel- 

 low-man from the grasp of the evil one. I told 

 you of that surgical operation at Battle Creek, 

 when I could do nothing to help except to pray 

 that the great God of the universe might give 

 wisdom and skill to the surgeon. The lady 

 whom I prayed for is now alive and well. I 

 have been a praying man for the past twenty 

 years or more, as you know: but I never before 

 in my life had had any experience like this. I 

 have heard about wiesillng in an agony of 

 prayer. F realized somt-thlng of it then. Now, 

 please do not misunderstand me, dear friends. 

 It would ill become me to tell you of any thing 

 that might sound like boasting of the number 

 of times that God has listened in answer to my 



*It seems a litt'.e strang-e that malarial fever 

 should cause such queer visions of water, slops, and 

 dampness. During- my second attack in Portland, 



■Ore., one nig-ht I could not sleep, because, when- 

 ever I closed my eyes, I saw my boots, that stood 

 near my bed, full of water, and running- over. 

 Ag-ain ;ind again I raised up and leaned over to sat- 

 isfy myself. There were the innocent boots, as dry 

 and warm and comfortable as could be. on the cai- 

 peted flooi'. Just as sleep began again to spread its 

 balmy wings about me, there were the boots i)rim- 

 f ul of water pouring over the sides of each boot-top. 

 The raindrops on the roof outdoors perhaps suggest- 



■ed a part of the illusion, for you know it almost 



.always rains in Oregon,' in winter. 



prayers. While I prayed during this season of 

 anxiety and trouble 1 recognized that thousands 

 have prayed for loved ones before, and God has 

 not seen fit to grant the request. The great 

 Judge of all the earth will surely do right; but 

 we are forced to conclude that many times it 

 is his will that we should be schooled Dy having 

 the loved ones taken away in spile of the 

 prayer; at least, God does not see tit to give us 

 knowledge and wls-dom. even in answer to 

 prayer, to avert sickness and death. I felt 

 that, through all my prayers, the thought 

 should run, ■•Nevertheless, thy will, not mine, 

 be done."' Please remember, dear friends, that 

 even the prayers of Christ Jesus, the son of 

 God, were not all granted. God did not deliver 

 him from that terrible cup: but he gave him 

 grace to bear it. 1 was obliged to face this 

 matter of the possible loss of my dear compan- 

 ion and helpmeet as 1 had never faced it before, 

 i went over again and again the lives we two 

 have passed together. I remembered how 

 faithful and loyal she had been to my unworthy 

 self in all these many years. Why, dear friends. 

 I never understood what the words loyal and 

 faitliful and true meant until 1 knew her— no, 

 never till t?iis crisis in our lives. All through 

 the day something would come up where I 

 wanted her counsel. Things had gone wrong, 

 and 1 was tempted to right them with ray nat- 

 ural vehemence. But it has been for so many 

 years a practice of Tny life to first consult her, 

 and be guided by her gentle charity, rather 

 than by my own vehemence, that I felt as if a 

 part of myself were gone when I could not talk 

 to her about our affairs. A dozen times a day I 

 would say to myself. "'Well, I will go right 

 over and ask Sue what she thinks about it." 

 Then came the awful truth, " Why, the doctor 

 has actually thought it best that I should stay 

 away from her sick room unless she should 

 call me." In a little time the same experience 

 was gone over again. But the question came 

 up as to what could be done to bring the much- 

 needed sleep to the loved sufferer. I was de- 

 bating it almost constantly; and again and 

 again, without thinking what I was about. I 

 would say to myself '■ I will ask Sue what she 

 would do in such a crisis." Then it would 

 burst upon me. "Oh my God! she is the one 

 that is in danger. It may never be my privi- 

 lege to consult her again while God permits me 

 to live on this earth." And then I began grop- 

 ing in the darkness, and questioning as to what 

 I should do without her for a counselor. I 

 thought of my other friends and relatives. I 

 rememb('red 1 had Ernest and John to consult 

 with. They wore wiser in many matters than 

 the dear wife; but they were men. There are 

 many delicate things in life — there are matters 

 that pertain to spiritual things, where I do not 

 want a man's counsel. I want a woman, with 

 hor great charity and woman's intuition. Well, 

 there were other women. There were my own 

 daughters. Yes, tfiank God, they are her 

 daughters, and they may in time have her ex- 

 perience and gentle charity: but they are all 

 yet young. There is nobody in this whole wide 

 world who can begin to take her place. Per- 

 haps I might say right here that my mind be- 

 gan to turn toward my eldest daughter, Mrs. 

 Calvert, as it never had before; and I asked 

 God to forgive me that I had never thanked 

 him for her and the other daughters as I should 

 have done. 



With ail those great trials, the more I prayed, 

 and especially the more I praved for the in- 

 fluences and counsel of the Holy Spirit in this 

 time of trial, my own unworthy, heedless, selfish 

 life came up befori' me. If T understand cor- 

 rectly, one of the principal offices of the Holy 



