1904 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE. 



343 



OUR 

 HOMES, 



BY A.I. ROOT. 



I IWhom the L,ord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth 

 every son whom he receiveth. — Heb. 12 : 0. 



From a recent editorial in the Sunday 

 School Times, under the heading- " Ought 

 we never to be sick? " we make an extract 

 as follows: 



But God, who is love, is to-day blessing some lives 

 with disease. Through the door of illness he is pour- 

 ing treasui es into the lives of some of his trusting chil- 

 dren, without which those lives would be poverty- 

 stricken in comparison w;th their present wealth. 



I read the whole article over several 

 times. It is a reply to a correspondent who 

 th'nks the editor of the Times does not give 

 sufficient credit to the subject of divine 

 healing. Dowie has been saying, you 

 know, that all sickness is of the Devil, but 

 the position taken by the Times presents a 

 pretty strong contrast; and I confess it was, 

 at le ist to some extent, a new thought to me 

 that God is sending blessings through sick- 

 ness, pain, and disease. Failing health 

 has certainly made many changes in my 

 life. It has often brought me to a stand- 

 still, and forced me to give up planning for 

 larger and greater business. It has sent 

 me out into the world, away from home with 

 its cares and surroundings. It has put me 

 on my good behavior, and made me gentler 

 and kinder, a better husband, a better 

 father. When one is traveling, especially 

 when he is an invited guest, he is obTged 

 to be pleasant and good-natured; and so 

 far as I am concerned I am inclined to 

 think the Times is at least partly right^ — 

 perhaps entirely so. Permit me to say 

 that, among all our religious periodicals 

 (and I look over a large number), there is 

 not one that takes a higher stand, morally 

 and spiritually, than the Sunday School 

 Times. Let us now go back to our talk in 

 the last issue. 



The quiet home life that Mrs. Root and I 

 both enjoy so much was suddenly broken 

 up. There were tvso nurses and a hired 

 girl; and before we got through there were 

 several doctors. The fever was soon brok- 

 en up; but Mrs. Root was left very weak 

 and feeb'e. Yes, in just a few days she 

 was a nervous wreck compared with what 

 she had been. When the first trained nurse 

 came she instituted a new order by way of 

 stillness and quietness. The first thing 

 she asked for was an oil-can. When I in- 

 quired what she wanted it for she said there 

 were several doors with "squeaky" 

 hinges; and when Mrs. Root was asleep, it 

 was actually a matter of life and death to 

 avoid every thing that could possibly c is- 

 turb or awaken her. The serious problem 

 at this time was to get her to sleep and keep 

 her sleeping. We were obliged to resort to 

 hypodermic injections of morphine; but the 

 physicians and nurses all declared this 

 was to be only a last resort. I got the oil- 



can, and volunteered to fix every hinge so 

 there should be no squeak. Pretty soon I 

 was told to go around in my stocking feet 

 or get some dififerent shoes. To be frank, 

 there was some talk of sending me away in 

 order to have things quiet. Now, doctors 

 and nurses are all right; but I knew, and 

 Mrs. Root knew, that it was a settled thing 

 long ago that, when either one of us passed 

 through sickness or went down to death, 

 the other was to be constantly near. Of 

 course, I reformed my noisy ways. I tele- 

 phoned our shoe- dealer to send samples of 

 the best shoes he had in stock, to be worn 

 in a sick-room. There was one pair all 

 felt — felt soles as well as sides; and I have 

 worn them every day from that time till now 

 — nearly three months. These shoes have 

 been such a blessing to me (as well as to 

 Mrs. Root) that I wish to stop a little and 

 talk about them. 



Heretofore, every winter ever since I can 

 remember I have been troubled with corns 

 and chilblains. After I had worn these 

 soft porous shoes a week or two my corns 

 and chilblains began to disappear. Not 

 only that, the thick tough hard flesh or 

 skin that has been the growth of years, on 

 account of wearing hard leather shoes, has 

 gradually disappeared, or been scrubbed 

 off when washing my feet with strong soap 

 and water. Some time ago I told you about 

 having trouble with my feet burning. Two 

 or three years ago up in Michigan my feet 

 burned so badly that ] walked on snow- 

 drifts by the side of the road in my bare 

 feet to go to Sunday- school. I even stood 

 in ice water in order to cool them off. When 

 spring comes I almost always have trouble 

 of this kind. You may remember I told you 

 that our family physician said my feet did 

 not have ventilation enough — they must have 

 a chance to breathe; and he advised low 

 shoes that would lace down to the toe, or 

 nearly so. That was years ago, and I have 

 worn laced shoes ever since. Well, now, 

 these ielt shoes are away ahead. The air 

 can pass in and out on every side, even 

 through the soles. Of course, I can not go 

 out in the wet with them. When you step 

 out you must have overshoes with rubber 

 soles, for protection from snow and wet*; 

 and since my feet have got well they are al- 

 most never cold. I wear woolen socks with 

 them, and the wool causes no inconvenience, 

 as it formerly did, because of the abundant 

 ventilation. Let us now go ba ck to the 

 sick-room. 



With these felt shoes I could go all over 

 the house day and night, and I at first ap- 

 proached so silently that I frightened the 

 nurse, and once almost gave Mrs. Root a 

 serious fright. You see her nerves were 



* One of the great troubles here in our clay country 

 around Medina is cleaning carpets and keeping the 

 house free from dust. Noth'ng annoys Mrs. Root 

 more than to have people come into the house and 

 march straight across the carpet with muddy feet. 

 With these felt shoes that can not be worn outdoors, 

 rubbers rr overshoes of some kind are a necesity, and, 

 as a result. I always step on the carpet with clean 

 feet. Perhaps I should add, "Or at least I am ex- 

 pected to do so." 



