1896 



Cleanings in bee culture. 



867 



When she had obtained a sufficient hold on 

 the whole community by her cheerful and 

 bright way of teaching, a Sunday-school was 

 proposed. The Mormons held some sort of ser- 

 vices on Sunday, and they raispd some objec- 

 tion, fearing the new Sunday-school might con- 

 flict with their teachings. But she compromis- 

 ed the matter by agreeing to attend their Mor- 

 mon services if they would attend her Sunday- 

 school; and she even told them that they 

 might convert her to their Mormon religion if 

 they could do so. She had the grace of God in 

 her heart all daylong; and, as a consequence, 

 the Sunday-school flourished like the day 

 school, and crowded every thing else into the 

 background. 



The saloon-keeper was quite a friend to the 

 school business until he saw that ii was spoil- 

 ing his custom; then he remonstrated some; 

 but the good-natured schoolma'am was too 

 much for him. The profanity that had been so 

 common was giving way day by day and week 

 by week as the result of that Sunday-school, 

 and people came from miles around to drink in 

 the glad tidings that were sure to be proclaimed 

 every Sunday. 



In the neighborhood was a girl of seventeen 

 who was caring for a poor intemperate father 

 and a family of children. In hur zeal to have 

 the children get an education she went out in 

 the woods and cut down trees, and did almost 

 every sort of man's work. She had such a rep- 

 utation for training and breaking wild mules 

 and horses that they named her Wild Anna; 

 and when Miss Dox found her she was the cen- 

 ter of a crowd gathered in front of the saloon 

 while bets passed from mouth to mouth as to 

 whether Wild Anna would succeed in conquer- 

 ing a vicious mule, as she had succeeded in 

 laming all that had heretofore been brought to 

 her. Anna had a peculiar gift for managing 

 horses. She too cauglit the fever, however, 

 and wanted to go to school and be taught to 

 read and write. lean imagine how our little 

 schoolma'am thanked God when this great 

 stout girl of only seventeen came to her lo be 

 taught as a little child. She had not been there 

 many days before the schoolma'am took her by 

 the arm and proposed that they .'ihould go out 

 to walk one noontime. During that walk the 

 teacher told her the story — the old, old story — 

 of Christ and him crucified. The wild girl was 

 touched. She confessed she had never heard 

 any such wonderful story before. 



" Why. teacher, can this man of whom you 

 have been telling me— can he be the Jesus 

 whose name I have taken upon my lips, espe- 

 cially while with those men breaking their 

 wild horses? Can it be that this one whose 

 name 1 have so often taken in vain was he 

 whom God sent down from heaven to call poor 

 sinners such as I am 'o himself? " 



Then she stopped her coarse talk right then 

 and there. As a means of providing food and 

 clothing for the poor father and motherless 

 children she kept on, I believe, using her rare 

 gift and skill in training vicious horses; but 

 from that day forward she was a friend oi the 

 little schoolma'am. 



In those days, in the mining towns remote 

 from railways there were more or less stage- 

 drivers; and among others who were called to 

 come to that new Sunday-school was one Jim- 

 mie Boyle, a stage driver. He had patronized 

 the saloon so long that his clothes were ragged, 

 his hair and beard untrimmed ; and when one 

 of his friends asked him to come, rouch and 

 rude as he was, he recognized the need of fixing 

 up a little. Without saying a word to anybody 

 he scraped up his money, made a long trip to 

 Ogden, Utah, and purchased a brand-new suit 

 of clothes. When somebody joked about it he 



told them his new suit was simply his " trot- 

 ting-harness; " and much was the merriment 

 when Jimmie presented himself so fixed up that 

 nobody recognized him, and brought in the wake 

 his wife and children. Henceforward he was a 

 strong and faithful champion of the little school- 

 ma'am and of the Sunday-school work. 



There was in the town a notoriously wicked 

 man, but he was a man of some wealth. Some- 

 body told the schoolma'am that, away back in 

 days gone by, this man had been a professor of 

 religion. She called on him, and God answered 

 her prayers by causing the man to renounce his 

 profanity and intemperance, and to come out 

 clothed and in his right mind, a champion and 

 defender of the Sunday-school. 



Three years had passed, and the reputation of 

 that school was still growing, and pupils were 

 coming from far and near. The untiring litt e 

 woman who had already accomplished so much 

 slipped in getting out of a wagon, and the result 

 was such that she was obliged to go to a distant 

 city for surgical relief. She returned with her 

 limb in a plaster cast, telling her friends and pu- 

 pils that sne would have to give up her school. 

 When the news came, not only did the children 

 and fathers and mothers implore her to stay, 

 but the cowboys formed themselves into a com- 

 mittee, and volunteered to bring her in an easy 

 wagon to and from the school, and carry her in 

 her arm chair, if she would only go on. 



"But, dear friends," said she, "how can I 

 teach school in all three rooms when I can not 

 even walk from one room to another ? " 



" O schoolma'am! if you will only consent to 

 stay and live with us as you have been doing 

 we will all be so good that you won't need to 

 walk from one room to another." 



They kept their promise — at least they kept it 

 so well that the school was continued in this 

 way until she began to lose health from lack of 

 exercise. But the cowboys were equal to this 

 emergency. They procured a gentle pony for 

 her, and a comfortable sidesaddle, and outside 

 of school hours she went around from house to 

 house and paid visits, the people coming out to 

 the pony to tell her how much she was needed, 

 and that they could not have her go away. 



Now, dear friends, 1 have given you only a 

 part of that woman's talK on that Sunday eve- 

 ning. As she sat in our church, near the pas- 

 tor's desk, before he had iutro iuced her, I feel 

 free lo confess that I did not see any thing re- 

 markable about her nor any thing particularly 

 attractive. 1 could scarcely believe it possible 

 that she was the talented woman of whom I had 

 heard; but when she arose to speak, and her 

 face was lighted by that Christlike spirit from 

 within, then we began to understand the won- 

 derful secret that had given her such success. 

 It was the spirit of Christ that shone forth from 

 every word and look that she gave us. Most of 

 you, dear readers, have known something of 

 such a town as I have described. May be some 

 of you know places now where there are no 

 schools or churches, and where there are chil- 

 dren growing up like noxious weeds in a neg- 

 lected garden. Many of you have seen the 

 beneficial changes that have been brought 

 about by schools and Christian churches. Let 

 us consider the offect that shall go on down the 

 ages as a result of this one mission teacher's 

 work. At first she was paid no salary. If I am 

 correctly informed, the Christian people of the 

 State of Ohio paid her salary for several years. 

 As the school progressed, however, the people of 

 the town contributed more or less toward her 

 support. One of the Mormon elders gave $100, 

 even though her teaching was in direct opposi- 

 tion to his own creed. I hardly need tell you 

 that the result of thac work was the building of 

 a church. After the Sunday-school was well 



