THE STORY OF BREAD 



13 



pick the big, fat berries while the dew is fresh upon 

 them. The woods is full of boys — that's the fun of it. 



He who skipped blackberry time in the country 

 missed one of the joys of boyhood. 



But, as you glance back, do you remember how 

 some boys were all the time running about, here and 

 there, looking for a better place — bushes with more 

 berries and larger? Do you remember? And do 

 you also remember how other boys started in every 

 day at the same place, took the same route morning 

 after morning, and came out at the same point? And 

 you may remember that the boy who went steadily 

 along, picking all the berries in sight, went home 

 with a pail full, while the boy who rushed about 

 looking for the great place, blamed his luck, and 

 wondered why his pail was only half full. 



Truly, there are acres of diamonds — even in a 

 berry patch. 



Men whom perspective has labeled great, lived 

 and worked, and passed on. They picked many 

 diamonds and strung them for us to gaze and won- 

 der at. And they stumbled over other diamonds, 

 just as large, and just as valuable. 



Sometimes we are so close to a thing that we do 

 not see it, and again sometimes we hear a thing so 

 often that we do not hear it at all. These are some 

 of the reasons, perhaps, why the men of the ages did 

 not hear the cry for bread" or, if they heard it, 

 their minds were not in their stomachs, which can't 



