746 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE, 



Oct. 15 



they could all put aside their particular 

 creeds, and meet upon the common ground of 

 charity and good works. 



Fred was called upon for a hymn, and render- 

 ed, "I know that my Redeemer Liveth." The 

 melody was very apptopriate to his voice and 

 the guitar accompaniment; and as the chorus 

 rang out, 



Then ask me not to linger long- 

 Amid the gay and thoughtless throng, 



Alfaretta, as if remembering some forgotten 

 fragment of what she used to be, joined in the 

 chorus, to the surprise of her immediate friends. 



None were so dull they did not observe the 

 rich blending of their voices; and at the con- 

 clusion Fred was again surprised to receive a 

 round of applause. This was 

 not exactly an orthodox Sunday 

 proceeding; but in such an ex- 

 ceptional gathering, exceptional 

 things were to be expected. 



A lesson from the parable of 

 the good Samaritan, and a few 

 pointed remarks from Mr. Buell 

 upon the blessings of helpfulness 

 in every-day life, concluded that 

 portion of the service. 



To-day, in the absence of pre- 

 vious preparation for the Sun- 

 day-school, singing, reading 

 choice moral selections, and the 

 formation of classes, were the 

 main features. Led by the 

 guitar, the people readily took 

 up the gospel hymns. With 

 many these hymns had been a 

 part of the home life in the far 

 east; and here on this sunset 

 shore these songs would come to 

 the surface for expression in 

 their more cheerful moments. 

 The old remembered song has 

 enlivened many a weary way, 

 and has been a link to hold the 

 heart fast to the doctrine of the '■ whisky 

 great Teacher; so wherever we find a gather- 

 ing of people speaking the English tongue, the 

 singing of a gospel hymn will meet with a 

 rousing response. The little meeting thus 

 started was a success, and it was unanimously 

 decided to continue it indefinitely. 



The squalid condition of the Dawson children 

 excited the commiseration of the neighbors; 

 and the appearance of Gimp Dawson, a lad of 

 eight years, was extremely forlorn. He wore 

 what appeared to be his father's shirt, once 

 white, but now the color of river mud — choco- 

 late. One sleeve was torn off above the elbow, 

 leaving the arm bare; the other, rent so as to 

 expose the scrawny shoulder. The trousers 

 were about as ragged as the shirt, and held in 

 precarious position with a tow string. 



Mr. and Mrs. Buell and Fred were looking 

 the object over carefully, and considering what 

 could be done to better his condition. When 

 Mrs. Dawson noticed them she exclaimed: 



" Yer see he's purty near like a ripe warnut — 

 ready ter shuck. Now, Mr. Buell, it don't take 

 so much cloth to kiver my tu girls as it does 

 one kid; an' I figger that my three kids have 

 altogether fifteen legs, arms, and heads, which 

 are etarnally pokin' theirselves through the 

 clothes somewhar, an' it's ben mighty hard 

 work to keep the holes stopped or even pucker- 

 ed up. But whisky did it, Mr. Buell. Whisky 

 means rags." said she, pointing to Gimp; 

 " rags," said she, pointing to another boy with 

 both knees out. " Rags," said she again, with 



MEANS RAGS, MK. BUELL; WHLSKY DID IT! 



more bitterness, as she shook her own soiled 

 and torn dress. 



" Mrs. Dawson," said Mr. Buell, speaking 

 kindly, " we all know that you have been bear- 

 ing a heavy burden; and, in accordance with 

 Scripture teaching, we are willing to help yon 

 carry your burden. Now, if you will allow 

 Gimp to go home with us we will return him 

 next Sunday with those holes all repaired." 



" Well, I declar!" said Mrs. Dawson; " ef you 

 ain't the fust, man I've seen in twenty year 

 that'll practice what he preaches. Generally 

 it's preach, preach, an' no practice." 



So it was decided; and though Gimp had 

 never been from home, he was not averse to the 

 plan. 



" Now, Gimp," said Mrs. Dawson, " yeer goin' 



