1880 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



.51? 



Home department of the journal, I shall 

 never forget ; and I hope my friends whom 

 I met there will not think it was without 

 pain that I left them thus abruptly. I can 

 not take space here to go over the subjects 

 discussed, but you will notice them as they 

 come up, in different parts of the journal. 



In the evening I was allowed to sit in the 

 audience, for which I felt grateful. As 1 

 listened to the friends who spoke in such a 

 pleasant, kind way of our favorite industry, 

 I was about as happy as I generally get. I 

 had, in my innocence, entirely forgotten the 

 many occasions when, in times past, this 

 very convention had thought it profitable or 

 well to take time to say unkind things of my 

 poor self; and when the president announ- 

 ced that a paper would now be read by the 

 secretary, on the subject that was being dis- 

 cussed (the color of Italian bees), I was as 

 much interested as perhaps any one in the 

 room. Not very many sentences were ut- 

 tered, however, before I was startled by hear- 

 ing my own name used, and used, too, in 

 any thing but a courteous way, to say the 

 least. "Lord, help ! " came the involuntary 

 inward prayer, as my heart began beating 

 fast. Again it came, harsher and severer 

 than before, and the illusion was dispelled. 

 Here, too, as well as through all my life, 

 must come persecution. As the writer went 

 on in a sarcastic way in his essay about my- 

 se7/(as it seemed to me), rather than about 

 bees, the blows came thicker and harder. 

 For a time, as I sat there silently, it seemed 

 as if even God had forsaken me. Was there 

 no God in Cincinnati? 



Perhaps I seemingly exaggerate, my 

 friends, because I feel pain so acutely ; but 

 I feel joy just as keenly, and so I presume it 

 is all right. I was not' left in darkness long, 

 and the presence of my Savior seemed ten- 

 fold more dear for the experience of being 

 without him just one brief moment. A 

 verse of my favorite hymn expresses how I 

 felt : — 



Let the world despise and leave me, 



They have left my Savior too; 

 Human hearts and looks deceive me — 



Thou art not, like them, untrue; 

 And, whilst thou shalt smile upon me, 



God of wisdom, love, and might. 

 Foes may hate and friends may scorn me — 



Show thy face, and all is bright. 



That "face" was shown, and all was 

 " bright,"' truly; and, in one sense, I did 

 not care any "more about it. My worst 

 anxiety was that II. might not take it 

 as calmly as he did when the man scold- 

 ed him for punching the crocodile. I 

 prayed for him and he did pretty well. 

 As soon as it was ended, a host of friends 

 were on their feet, and they took my 

 part in a way I shall always remember ; but 

 I would much rather they' had let it all drop. 

 The president explained it as a joke, and 

 said something to the effect that the conven- 

 tion was a "high-toned one,' 1 and of course 

 would not do anything out of keeping with 

 that idea. PoorH:! the temptation was too 

 strong, and, although his question related 

 entirely to bees, he addressed it to the "high- 

 toned convention" with an emphasis that 

 was rather significant. I felt rather glad 

 when the time came that he should leave to 



take the train for his home. The question 

 now came up, should I stay during the 

 whole session, as I had fully intended to do, 

 or should I go with him? ' I wanted to go 

 home ; or, at least. I wanted to get out under 

 the stars, any way. Nearly an hour had 

 been wasted in defending me. Was there 

 any good guarantee that the time of the next 

 two days would not be wasted in a similar 

 way? I was wanted sadly at home. The 

 talk had now drifted on 'the old disputed 

 ground of the yellow bands on the Italians, 

 and as I felt sure I could, by a few words, at 

 least partially harmonize the many conflict- 

 ing opinions, 1 spoke briefly; then gave 

 them a little talk on charity for each other, 

 and then God seemed to say, "You may now 

 go home." 



I had enjoyed the day ; but there was a 

 new kind of peace with me as I went out in- 

 to the open air. It was so late that I feared 

 I should miss the train ; but at once came 

 the thought, "He told you how loirg to stay, 

 and when you might go ; waste no time, 

 and he will place you on the train, unless it 

 is his will you should do something for him 

 elsewhere." Another verse of that hymn 

 expresses it : — 



Man may trouble and distress me; 



'Twill but drive me to thy breast: 

 Life with trials hard may press me. 



Heaven will bring- me sweeter rest. 

 Oh ! 'tis not in grief to harm me, 



While thy love is left to me; 

 Oh! 'twere not in joy to charm me, 



Were that joy unmixed with thee. 



Everybody of whom I inquired the shortest 

 route, seemed to take it for granted that I 

 knew something about Cincinnati ; but the 

 truth was, I had followed my friends of the 

 morning without looking, and I didn't know 

 anything at all, unless it was that 1 was in 

 my Savior's care, and he would direct. He did , 

 and the plain, kind directions I received as 

 to how 1 could run across lots, as it were, 

 from one street-car to another, so as to save 

 time, came from a kind old colored woman. 

 I shall always remember her race with kind- 

 ness for this one act. The Bible says, "All 

 things shall work together for good to those 

 who love the Lord," and, while I do not 

 mean to say I am glad anybody has been 

 tempted to do a wrong thing, I do feel that 

 God has so turned the wrong, that it has done 

 me good. I shall be more careful hereafter, 

 in publicly criticising anybody who is willing 

 and trying to do right, and I shall thank God 

 for honest and sincere friends as I have nev- 

 er done before. It does not seem to me now 

 as if it was my duty to try to attend conven- 

 tions ; but 1 am willing to go whenever God 

 seems to call me to do so, even if it should 

 be a cross and a trial to do so. 



As I stepped on the last street-car, I told 

 the driver 1 wished to catch the excursion 

 train. He said it would be close work, bat 

 that he would try to make it for me, and so 

 he signaled for hurrying the horses a little. 

 Although he was quite young, only about 

 the age of my own boy, he had a very pleas- 

 ant and courteous bearing, and seemed to be 

 one of those real nice, "clean" boys, whom 

 it is such a pleasure to meet. A man arose 

 in the car, and walked out on the steps. The 

 car slackened, and when he called out 



