Vol. XT. 



NOV. 1, 1887. 



No. 21. 



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A CKITICISM ON THE EDITOR OF 

 GLEANINGS. 



AND nv ONE WHO IS NOT A SUBSCIUBEK. 



R. KOOT:— I ain awaretliat T am committing 

 a breach of etiquette In writing to you, a 

 stranger: and as I don't subscribe for 

 Gleanings, and haven't a particle of inter- 

 est, in bees, except to give them a wide 

 berth, and (I may as well confess all my short-com- 

 ings at once) can't endure honey, I've not a shad- 

 ow of an excuse for taking up your valuable time. 

 IJut if I don't pay for Gleanings, some one who 

 resides in the same house with me docs, and 1 have 

 the pleasure of reading it every fortnight, and very 

 thoroughly I do it, even to the advertisements, 

 which I never think of looking at in any other 

 book or paper. But they have the same agreeable 

 " Rooty " flavor which pervades the whole iniblica- 

 tion, aad]I " take it straight. " 



It seems to me your Christian name should be 

 Sassafras, for your writings leave the same im- 

 pression on my mind that sassafras root does on 

 my tongue— spicy, a little ; pungent, and sweet. 

 They say we New Englandors have sat with our 

 backs braced against Bunker Hill and Plymouth 

 Rock so long that we have absorbed something 

 of their composition into our natures (taken it 

 through the pores, as it were), and are rather hard 

 and cold. Possibly it is the contrast between the 

 coolness and reserve which I have always been ac- 

 customed to, which makes your cordial Western 

 frankness so charming to me. When in the midst 

 of a highly interesting article like your account of 

 linding the spring, you stop and tell us that you 

 " went up to the house after mother and the girls," 

 our enjoyment in the perusal is enhanced by that 



" one touch of nature which makes the whole 

 world kin." And to be allowed the e?ifree of your 

 family, and meet constantly with your loved ones,- 

 till "Mother," "Connie," "Caddie," "Ernest," 

 " Huber," are not abstract ideas to us, but tlesh- 

 and-blood realities, is a privilege which I for one 

 appreciate, and for which please accept my thanks. 

 And now, although I never have enriched you even 

 one dollar for your magazine, I am going to pre- 

 sume to criticise it a little. How is that for " au- 

 dacity" ? Whenever I have a good hearty laugh 

 over some of your quaint, fatherly expressions I ex- 

 claim, " How I should like to see that man 1 " A long 

 while ago I settled it in my mind that you must 

 look like one of our committee when I went to 

 school— Mr. Robinson. He was a tall, portly, mid- 

 dle-aged gentleman, with a round, rosy face, twink- 

 ling blue eyes, and such an expression of kindly 

 good nature in his smile, that, contrary to the usu- 

 al order of things, the scholars were all pleased to 

 see the schoolroom door open and his genial face 

 appear. He never used to give us " puzzles " and 

 gloat over our discomfiture. Not he; his face 

 would look as anxious over a hesitating recitation 

 as though he hadn't forgotten the time when he 

 was a shaky-kneed boy standing before the commit- 

 tee, with his heart in his boots and his lesson any- 

 where but on his tongue's end. And the genial 

 glow which overspread his features at the success- 

 ful termination of a lesson made him look as lova- 

 ble as Santa Claus at Christmas time. He had some 

 queer little ways and expressions, and was decided- 

 ly unconventional, and I think we liked him all the 

 better for that. Well, When the last Gleanings 

 came, and I began 'to read your description of your 

 office, I thought, " Theje now! I Shall see if he looks 

 like Mr. Robinson." But, alas! on turning the 



