GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



using it I rub off the clean steel blade so 

 that it fairly shines. Well, two or tliree 

 times a day I take this hoe in hand and 

 work in the garden until the perspiration 

 starts, or until I feel a little weary. Then 

 1 stop and greatly enjoy a good drink of 

 boiled rain water. I do not care to have it 

 ice-cold ; but I try to keep my enameled pail 

 of drinking water in the coolest place about 

 the house, especially in hot weather. 



Some of you may suggest that getting 

 hapi^iness by using that bright hoe is work- 

 ing for self, and not quite in line with what 

 Dr. Clark said to his little girl. But, my 

 good friend, there are many ways of using 

 a "bright sharp hoe," where it is not all 

 self. The children and some of the grand- 

 children have gardens around our home; 

 and I frequently use this particular hoe to 

 teach them lessons in gardening. A few 

 days ago I said to my youngest daughter, 

 "Carrie, your tomatoes need hoeing. I will 

 hoe just one row for you for a pattern." 



She thanked me ; but another daughter, 

 "Blue Eyes," who was near by, looked up 

 with a roguish twinkle in her eyes and said, 

 "Father, I wish you would hoe one row of 

 our tomatoes too, just for a j^attern." 



I assured her it would give me great 

 pleasure to do so. Now, Carrie's tomatoes 

 were in a little bed of three rows, with four 

 or five in a row; but when I started to do 

 some more "sample work" I found Mrs. 

 Boyden's tomatoes were all jilanted in one 

 long row clear across the garden. You see 

 they "had a joke on father." 



There is another way in wMch that bright 

 hoe comes in play in the line of our texts. 

 By its use I raise considerably more garden 

 stuff than Mrs. Root and I alone can take 

 care of; and one of the rare pleasures 

 of having a garden is where you have a 

 little surplus (or jDerhaps if you have not) 

 of carrying samples around to your neigh- 

 bors, and suriDrising them in two ways — 

 first, by the excellence of your skill as a 

 gardener; and, second, your disposition to 

 divide with your neighbors the good things 

 that God in his mercy has given you as the 

 reward of your toil. 



I have been studying over this matter of 

 being happy always, for same days past, 

 and I have been ti-ying to think of some one 

 person who seemed to be happy always. 

 The one who came nearest to it was my 

 good mother — bless her memory! From 

 early childhood clear up to old age she 

 seemed always bright and cheerful. The 

 one text I have quoted, "I know that my 

 Redeemer liveth," was one she quoted often. 

 Whatever happened to make the rest of the 

 family feel sad and sorrowful, she always 

 took a bright view of the case. Her whole 



life reminds me of a beautiful thought ex- 

 pressed recently in the Sunday School 

 Times. 



SINGING ALWAYS. 



Nothing can quench the song of a heart that 

 really believes in the love and power of God, and 

 that has accepted this in Christ forever. If the 

 song is quenched, it is because we have, for the 

 time, ceased to believe in God's love or power; but 

 that we need never do. As Victor Hugo wrote: 



Be like the bird, that, halting in her flight 



A while on bough too slight, 



Peels it give way beneath her — 



And yet sings — 



Knowing that she hath wings! 



Our wings are the love and the power of God in 

 Christ who is our life. Nothing can overbear these 

 wings ; nothing can deprive us of the joy of the 

 consciousness of their presence except our own re- 

 fusal to let Christ share himself fully with us. And 

 even that refusal Christ can overcome, if we honest- 

 ly ask him to- do so. His joy may be our joy, al- 

 ways. Everything else may give way beneath us ; 

 but Christ, never. Therefore "I will sing with the 

 spirit, and I will sing with the understanding also," 

 and all the powers of earth and hell shall not quench 

 my song. 



The reason why the bird mentioned in 

 that beautiful stanza kept on singing, even 

 though the slender bough gave way when 

 she alighted on it, is because she "had 

 wings" — wings that never failed, and which 

 would always buoy her up. My mother's 

 life always seemed to have the comforting 

 and sustaining assurance that there were 

 wings out of sight that would always prove 

 a "present help in time of trouble." My 

 good father, however, who, although a pro- 

 fessing Christian, and who finally died 

 trusting in the Bible promises, had his ups 

 and downs. He used to get what we called 

 in olden times the "blues;" but mother's 

 bright and cheerful face was usually a 

 never failing remedy. I have often thought 

 that it was providential that they two were 

 brought together. At one time in his life, 

 during a quarrel over a division fence, he 

 talked about withdrawing from the church, 

 and said to our good pastor that he would 

 have withdrawn long before had it not been 

 for his "comiDanion." The pastor replied 

 something like this : 



"Brother Root, that devoted ''companion' 

 of yours, if you will continue to be guided 

 by her, will ultimately bring you into the 

 kingdom of heaven." 



Now, my friends, let me exhort you, in 

 closing, especially if you want to thank God 

 and enjoy every moment of your life, to be 

 always busy. Have a bright clean hoe like 

 mine; and whenever you feel that streak of 

 unhappiness coming on, get busy with the 

 hoe; and when you get busy, remember 

 what good Dv. Clark told his little girl. Be 

 contriving and planning and working, or 

 experimenting in something to make others 

 happy ; and before you know it or realize it 

 you will be happy yourself, and singing 

 like the bird on the swinging bough. 



