870 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Oct. 15 



ANOTHER PLUM STORY. 



It was early in the morning-. Earl was 

 dig^ging- Triumph potatoes, and I was pick- 

 ing them up. Some of you may wonder that 

 the president of The A. I. Root Co. should be 

 picking up potatoes, a job that is usually 

 given to the children or to the very cheapest 

 kind of help. Why should a man who can, 

 if he wishes, have a salary of — well, "con- 

 siderable if not more," as my good father 

 used to say — why should such a man be 

 picking up potatoes when he couldn't earn 

 (even at tivo cents a husfiel) more than, say, 

 50 or 75 cents a day? Funny, isn't it? 

 Well, in the first place God's sentence pro- 

 nounced on Adam and his descendants, 

 "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat 

 bread," I have often thought fell with tre- 

 mendous weig-ht on me. I can remember, 

 even when a child, that I could not only not 

 "eat bread" with any enjoyment, but it 

 almost seemed as if 1 could have no real 

 pleasure in life unless I was hard at work 

 at something. Of late years it seems as if 

 this work must be, at least a great part of 

 every day, in the open air. I enjoy writing 

 at my desk, as I am doing now, about so 

 long, and then it must be ' * outdoorses. ' ' Of 

 course, I can choose my work, and I thank 

 God for that privilege. My young friend 

 Earl, for instance, must do what I bid him 

 do, no matter how tired he gets of the one 

 thing, hour after hour. He can stop work 

 if he chooses, and have his pay stop; but 

 that cuts off the bread and butter. But 

 why not stand erect and do the digging- 

 myself, and let the boy get down in the 

 dirt? Well, some of the time we do that 

 way; but I rather like handling the red 

 "beauties" myself. In this exceedingly 

 mellow soil they are as smooth and perfect, 

 most of them, as great red peaches, and I 

 have just made an invention to relieve my 

 back. I take a stout stave basket and 

 place it on one corner so that I can rest my 

 chest against the upper edge. Of course, I 

 am on my knees in the soft dirt. Well, in 

 this position I can lean forward and work 

 with both hands. When there are no more 

 within reach, with a froglike motion both 

 basket and myself move forward a jump, 

 and so on. I think the same thing may be 

 done with a potato-box, but we have no 

 boxes here as yet. In this way I can pick 

 up pretty fast, and I can stand it for — well, 

 say two hours. Earl can testify that I am 

 not to be depended on to do one thing very 

 long at a time. It happened so this morn- 

 ing; for, just as I had got well to going, a 

 man with a horse and buggy was seen com- 

 ing toward us through the potatoes. 



I think we will let him stand a minute 

 and rest his horse, for he has driven almost 

 a dozen miles thus early, while I go back a 

 little and explain to our readers that Mrs. 



Root is now in Ohio, and I have been for 

 some days alone in the "cabin." On an- 

 other page there is more about it. I had 

 been very homesick, not for the Medina 

 home but for the Medina woman. Indoors 

 — in fact, at every turn — I met something 

 that made me sick at heart. She is coming 

 back in just a week, but I was thinking 

 that morning I just couldn't wait another 

 week. I prayed for my old interest and en- 

 thusiasm in the potatoes and other things, 

 and then I went out and worked hard, just 

 to "help God " answer my prayers. I be- 

 lieve he felt sorry for me, and pitied me,* 

 and sent that man with the horse and bug- 

 gy just to show his great love for me, poor 

 and imperfect as I am. 



It was Mr. J. P. Berg, the fruit-grower, 

 who lives on the other side of the Bay. He 

 said I was to get into his buggy and go 

 over and see his crop of plums, ready to 

 pick. When I told him there were reasons 

 why I would rather get back that night he 

 said: 



"All right. We will see that you are 

 back here before dark." 



" Why, friend B., that will be a drive of 

 forty-four miles in one day, just to have 

 me see your plums. Isn't it more than I am 

 really worth? " 



Pretty soon I found that he, and, I think, 

 the most of his family, are members of that 

 church I have been trying to build up. 

 They don't come here to our church build- 

 ing, but it is the same denomination, and 

 all his family of boys and girls seemed 

 glad to see me and are in hearty sympathy 

 with xny endeavor. 



Almost before I got out of the buggy I 

 saw the plum-trees bending beneath their 

 great loads. They were so large that they 

 looked like apples, but they were blue ap- 

 ples, and not red or yellow. Of course, we 

 had to have dinner before going into the or- 

 chard. The crop was already sold, on the 

 trees, at $2.00 per bushel. I tell you, 

 friends, that is the way for a farmer to do 

 business. Grow a crop of such excellence 

 that the city men will go out and bid for it 

 before it is matures. The plums were the 

 German Prune and Grand Duke. Both 

 kinds will keep several weeks, even after 

 they are ripe and soft, without injury. 

 What a contrast it was to sit down at that 

 dinner-table, with a crowd of boys and 

 girls (or, perhaps I should say, men and 

 women) , with the lonely meals I have been 

 having at my home in the woods! 



After dinner all hands went out to gather 

 the fruit. Friend Berg has been years in 

 the fruit business, and knows how to man- 

 age systematically. Four rather tall wo- 

 men (two of them his daughters) worked 

 on a tree at once. They had baskets with 

 hooks on the handles to hang on a limb. 

 Now, besides these four nice-looking wo- 

 men there was a nice-looking boy and a 

 girl. One of the two children picked the 

 low-down plums near the trunk of the tree, 



* As a father pitieth his children, so the lyOrd pitieth 

 them that fear him.— Psalm 103 : 13. 



