280 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



Apr. 



where I found a little note of apology from 

 this friend, and an expression of sorrow 

 that he had not been able to make his life 

 more consistent in this very respect. The 

 closing of this little note was in words some- 

 thing like this: " iMease pray for me." 

 Through many a year these words have fol- 

 lowed me, and have given me fresh inspira- 

 tion and energy in trying to follow the 

 Savior. Do you see what a change, friends ? 

 Suppose you should disagree with some 

 Christian brother or sister, and have a pretty 

 warm talk. When we are having these 

 warm talks, we feel like doing almost any 

 thing else rather than pray for each other. 

 Did you never think of it y The tendency 

 is to wish our opponent to do almost any 

 thing else, rather than pray for us. Satan 

 persuades us that our friend is no Christian 

 at all ; that we are right and he is all bad. 

 and therefore Satan's logic would be that 

 you do not want your friend's prayers ; be- 

 cause if he did pray, or try it, he would be a 

 hypocrite. Well, now, to get where you can 

 ask him to pray for you, you have got to un- 

 bend quite a good deal yourself. You have 

 got to consent to believe and a(]mit that you 

 are a sinner; and you must include in it that 

 this brother with whom you have been hav- 

 ing this tussle is a good man and a Christian; 

 furthermore, that he is just as good as you 

 are, and has just as much right to stick to 

 his position as you have to yours. I wonder 

 if it is as hard for anybody else as it is for 

 me to come down and humble myself in this 

 way, and give u]). Well, after you have 

 pounded down self (and it generally wants 

 pounding down a good way too) you have got 

 to love your opponent. Some way it is awful 

 hard for me to do that too. Then Avhen you 

 two stand side by side, — even in spite of 

 your differences so near side by side that you 

 can truly and honestly say, " We be breth- 

 ren,''— then, and not till tlien. can you ask 

 him to pray for you. I wonder if we shall 

 ever realize, friends, how much we need the 

 prayers of others. "I am having a pretty 

 tough time of it, Mr. Root. Tlease pray for 

 me." These were the words of a friend who 

 had commenced to give up tobacco. How 

 gladly I prayed for him, and how glad I was 

 that he spoke those words I It has warmed 

 my heart toward him ever since, and it has 

 made me happier to think that he in his 

 weakness and helplessness cared for my 

 prayers. Men of the world may laugh and 

 sneer at prayer, because they insist that it is 

 all put on. What an idea that is of Chris- 

 tianity or Christian people, that a man would 

 put on a pretense of devotion in order to 

 further some selHsh end or scheme! What 

 an awful sin is the sin of uncharitableness, 

 or, rather, to what awful depths may it lead 

 us I It has seemed to me lately, that it is a 

 sin that might almost be set side by side with 

 intemperance ; and one of its worst features 

 is, that it gets in everywhere. Jt gets into 

 Christian liomes. It is seen sticking out in 

 its hideous unsightliness among otherwise 

 well-bred people. It makes the whole world 

 hideous, instead of full of beauty. 



At our prayer-meeting last evening, our 

 pastor mentioned a celebrated sculptor who, 

 it was said, always saw angelic forms in 



blocks of rough marble. He was looking for 

 beauty, and his mind dwelt on that which is 

 good and holy and pure. JSow, scoffers and 

 cynics see no beauty ; they see nothing an- 

 gelic. It is our privilege, "friends, to look at 

 humanity as this sculptor looked at this 

 block of marble ; not only our privilege, but 

 duty. In one of " Pansy's " writings, which 

 I have been reading within a few days, she 

 takes off this prevailing and besetting sin, 

 and I want to copy the narrative a little, just 

 to give you a view of it. Our readeis are to 

 bear in mind, the following sketch is a con- 

 versation that took place while the family, 

 who had just returned from church, were 

 waiting for the father to come in to prayers. 

 Helen and Ermina were church-members, 

 while Tom and JNIaria were not : 



Mr. KMndolph had gone to his room, would be ready 

 in a little while, Grace said, so the family louuged in 

 various altitudes awaiting his coming. 



"What a verjj long sermon Mr. Gordon had to- 

 night!" Helen said, folding her crape veil. " I got 

 80 tired. I wonder if it wasn't an old sermon. Some 

 way it sounded like one to me." 



" I'm sure i don't know. He might preach an old 

 sermon every month, and I should be none the wiser. 

 I can't remember Mr. Gordon's sermons; they don't 

 interest me." This from Ermina. 



" 1 think this one was interesting; there were a 

 good many illustrations." This was Grace's timid 

 protest. 



"I'm tired of his illustrations," Helen said, wear- 

 ily. " He has about twenty for every sermon. 1 

 don't see the use of a minister telling si ories all the 

 while, as if his congregation were a parcel of chil- 

 dren." 



" Nevertheless it is generally considered the most 

 acceptable style of sermonizing," Tom said, as he 

 stretched his handsome self on the lounge, and laid 

 his curly head on Grace's lap. 



Helen turned, and looked at him in cool surprise. 



"Who over imagined that you had any idea con- 

 cerning the most acceptable style of sermonizing? 

 I didn't know it was in your line." 



" It has been in my line to hear Heecher and Tal- 

 mage and John Hall, perhaps you know; and I 

 heard several illustrations used, I can assure you." 



"Oh, well, I have no objection to illustrations 

 where they are needed to explain truth to those who 

 can uotunderstand it without. I only wish you had 

 profited by those you have heard." 



" I wish I had, with all my heart," Tom said, 

 gloomily. " 1 think, myself, that patterns are need- 

 ed as well as illustrations." 



Maria here took up the conversation. 



"I wish Mt. Gordon would leave his handkerchief 

 at home; how nervous that man does make me, 

 winding it around his hand and twisting it in all 

 sorts of shapes. I'm always afraid he will forget 

 where he is, and make an out-and-out rabbit, as I 

 presume he does at home for the children." 



" lUi handkerchief dnesu'i trouble me as much as 

 his continual fidgeting," Ermina said. "Squeaking 

 Vtoots too. If 1 were Mrs. Gordon I'd soak them in 

 grease lor a rnonth; and he shrugs his shoulders 

 worsethan ever. Helen, did you notice him to-nlghf? 

 It's for all the world just as his baby does, when it 

 wants something it can't have." 



" He is so wretchedly nervous, anyway, that it Is a 

 trial to watch him. Sis Wilcox says he gives her the 

 fidgets." 



