522 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



JUI.Y 1. 



was concerned, but urged that GIvEanings 

 was a different matter, and that we could afford 

 to be Hberal in giving instruction, even in bee 

 culture. I said it was like casting bread upon 

 the waters. 



Now, I felt a little diffident, as you may 

 naturally suppose I would, in urging that one 

 reason why I wanted Gleanings to go into 

 just as manj^ homes as possible was that I 

 wanted the privilege of pleading for the king- 

 dom of God and his righteousness. I wanted 

 the privilege of doing this without money and 

 without pay. We have received pay for the 

 part of Gleanings that teaches bee culture, 

 and, if you choose, gardening, education in 

 general, etc. ; but my special department right 

 here in this place, that I have occupied so 

 long, I wish to publish without money and 

 without price. I would have it in a separate 

 sheet by itself ; but it is so connected and 

 interwoven with business generally that it can 

 not very well be separated. I virged my point, 

 and pleaded vehemently to be allowed to send 

 Gleanings whenever anybody asked for it, 

 and stop it only when they neglect to pay 

 after being nutihed it would stop. I do not 

 know yet whether I carried my point or not, 

 but I think I did. vSomebody was calling for 

 me, and I hurried away ; but my soul had 

 been stirred within me, and I was groping in 

 the dark for some scripture text to make it 

 plainer to my partners in business just how I 

 felt in the matter. I stopped. "Cast thy 

 bread upon the waters." But that did not 

 quite touch the spot. As I was hurrying 

 along, something wnispered over my shoulder 

 a word of encouragement. Do you know that 

 that old teacher Paul might have lost heart 

 sometimes had it not been for the cheering 

 and encouraging words from that great and 

 all-powerful but invisible friend of his ? Well, 

 the words I heard were these : " Do good and 

 lend, hoping for nothing again." I said to 

 myself, "Why, did you ever? Is not that 

 the thought exactly?" Then I kept fondly 

 and lovingly saying them over to myself — 

 "Do good and lend, hoping for nothing 

 agai?i ;'' and from that time to this I have 

 turned with comfort and joy and enthusiasm 

 to those eight little words so beautiful, so 

 expressive. Why ! I should like to march in 

 a procession, and I would have a flag at the 

 head of that procession, and these words 

 should be inscribed on the banner : 



DO GOOD AND LEND, HOPING FOR NOTHING 

 AGAIN. 



Dear friends, I can almost hear some of you 

 saying, " Mr. Root, that is all very pretty to 

 talk about ; but if you lived in our neighbor- 

 hood you would get enough of it when you 

 went to put it into practice yourself." Do 

 you think, dear brother, I do not live in " your 

 neighborhood ? ' ' Listen : 



Yesterday, June 22, we iinished planting 

 our potatoes. As there was nothing more for 

 the double team to do after covering the last 

 row, we separated the team and prepared to 

 do the cultivating that was very much needed. 

 Mr. B. told me, however, that the very culti- 

 vator we wanted had been taken out of the 

 barn Monday, and had not been seen since. 



He asked me if I had not loaned it. I said I 

 had not. I spent almost half an hour making 

 inquiries for that cultivator. Finally I was 

 obliged to set the horse at some other work or 

 let him stand still in his stall because the 

 cultivator could not be found. Somebody 

 had borrowed it without permission, and then 

 had kept it three or four days right during 

 cultivating time. There were some new cul- 

 tivators in the warehouse that had never been 

 used. I was so vexed I declared I would 

 hitch right on to one of the new cultivators in 

 the warehouse, and tell the neighbor who 

 borrowed the old one, when he came back 

 with it — that is, if he ever did come back — 

 that he had annoyed me so much he could 

 take the old cultivator at a fair price and keep 

 it or take the new one, just as he chose. Yes, 

 this was after I had had a glimpse of that 

 beautiful text. So my text was not in my* 

 mind all the time, after all. I thought of it 

 pretty soon, however, and for a liitle time 

 there was a battle between self and the text ; 

 but the text came out ahead. Some time 

 after dark the man who took the cultivator 

 without leave heard that I was scolding about 

 it, and brought it home in a hurry. He had 

 it a year ago by permission. This time he 

 saw it standing in the barn, nobody using it, 

 and he took it without permission, and lent it 

 to his "brother-in-law," telling him to be 

 sure to take it straight back just as soon as he 

 got his garden done. Either his brother-in- 

 law did not understand, or else his enthusiasm 

 for keeping his promises dwindled away ; so 

 he let my cultivator stand right where he 

 used it until I had made sufficient fuss so that 

 somebody heard of it. When I saw the 

 neighbor who took it I told him it was a 

 prett}' serious matter to take tools out of a 

 man's barn, without any sort of permission, 

 or without notifying anybody on the premises 

 of what he had done ; but that it was still 

 more serious to let a tool under such circum- 

 stances drop where it was used last, or to 

 intrust to somebody else the uncertainty of 

 putting it back. He admitted his fault, and 

 made a very humble apology. Now, I do not 

 believe in letting people run over us and annoy 

 us in that sort of way It would not be 

 Christianlike to do things in such a slipshod 

 fashion; but, notwithstanding, I still hold on 

 {and rejoice) in repeating over and over my 

 beautiful text. 



Some years ago a friend of mine was show- 

 ing me over their handsome cemetery. He 

 pointed to a beautiful monument, and said, 

 " Mr. Root, that man was one of the finest 

 horsemen in our county. He owned some of 

 the very best horses — some whose value was 

 away up in the thousands. He had the finest 

 barn, and a beautiful farm. He was success- 

 ful in every thing, and well-to-do ; and yet he 

 committed suicided Now, I knew something 

 of this man. He succeeded, if I am correct, 

 because he did not lend any thing. I do not 

 think lie was annoyed by his neighbors bor- 

 rowing tools, especiall}' without permission. 

 They knew better ; but yet he was not happy. 

 Do you believe a man would feel happy and 

 satisfied after having had a sign painted and 



