82 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



Feb. 1 



letters I had taken so much pains to write. 

 I seemed to be like the little girl who came 

 in crying because she could not count the 

 chickens. She said she counted them all 

 but one, and that one ran about so "ever- 

 lastingly" she could not count it. Mrs. 

 Root laughed about it and said it was be- 

 cause I still had too much care and worry, 

 and suggested I should stop trying to raise 

 so many chickens, etc.; but I told her I 

 should die sure if I was not kept busy at 

 something. 



After praying over the matter as I have 

 told you, I soon began to see that this trou- 

 ble was worse when I did not feel real well, 

 especially when my digestion was bad; and 

 when I dropped my suppers, as I have told 

 you about at length, there was at once a verj^ 

 marked improvement. After I took up a 

 daily sponge bath, as I have also explained 

 at length, there was another very great im- 

 provement; and as I took this sponge bath 

 I have practiced massaging, something as 

 friend Hasty refers to, as nearly as I can 

 make out. 



I tried many expedients to overcome the 

 trouble. For instance, I kept all my letters 

 in my hand when I went into the office; but 

 I was compelled to lay them on the desk 

 w^hen I opened my mail, and then I, like an 

 idiot, went off and left them all on the desk, 

 which was worse than leaving them in my 

 pocket. Of course I could have carried my 

 letters in my hand and mailed them before 

 taking my mail out of the box; but I did 

 not once propose giving way a single iota to 

 this strange infirmity, for where would it 

 end? 



It has doubtless occurred to more than 

 one of you that my account of battling with 

 this infirmity sounds strangely like battling 

 with real sin; and, to come right down to 

 the truth of it, forgetting is a sin, and at 

 times a most grievous sin. Witness the loss 

 of life and limb that has resulted several 

 times lately where a motorman has forgot- 

 ten himself and run on some other car's 

 time. Let me digress a little: 



Years ago, before I became a Christian, I 

 got to thinking one Sunday afternoon about 

 a certain thing in my life that needed cor- 

 rection, and really had to be corrected. I 

 remember vividly going out alone into the 

 woods and sitting down on a log and think- 

 ing it over. After some serious meditation 

 1 arose, and, raising my right hand, took a 

 solemn oath before God that henceforth and 

 for ever I would he free from this thing that 

 threatened my peace, my happiness, and 

 my life. I have just been reminded of this 

 incident by what our good pastor and others 

 have been saying about "New Year's reso- 

 lutions," as this is only the third day of 

 .January as I write. Do you remember 

 when Peter said, "Though 1 should die with 

 thee, I will not dpny thee"? The Master 

 said to him that Satan should sift him as 

 wheat, and Satan "sifted" my poor proud 

 self within a couple of hours after. I held 

 up my head in a manly way in the woods, 

 and declared /would be master henceforth, 



and not a foolish silly inclination, and I 

 walked home from the woods with my head 

 up, feeling manly and glad to think I was 

 through with the conflict with evil. Do you 

 wish to know how it turned out? Before 

 the sun went down I was deeper in the 

 "slough of despond " than I had ever been 

 before. I was so completely whipped out 

 and discouraged that for a time I gave up. 

 I was like the intemperate man who said to 

 me some years after, "Mr. Root, this is a 

 horse I can not manage. When he gets me 

 on his back I must go where he carries me. 

 I really can no^ help myself." That "horse" 

 did finally (as I told him it would) carry 

 him to a drunkard's grave. 



Now, dear friends, here is the great point 

 of my long story. After I had said several 

 times, "Now I know I will never do this ri- 

 diculous thing again as long as I stay in 

 Florida," and then found myself back in 

 my old tracks before the day was gone, I 

 began to think of that scene in the woods of 

 long ago, and to reflect on how deliverance 

 came. When poor Peter stopped telling 

 what he could or would do in his own 

 strength, and suiu. a. he did when sinl<ing 

 in the water, "Lord, save or I perish," ihui 

 he became a great apostle of righteousness. 



When I was forced to acknowledge that 

 A. I. Root, with all his grit and vehemence, 

 was only a frail willow twig in the hands of 

 Satan, and when, instead of calling on God 

 to witness what / would do, I sat at the 

 feet of the dear Savior and depended on his 

 strength and not my own, I got out of my 

 troubles; and, more than that, helped others 

 out. 



Terry, Fletcher, Battle Creek, and a host 

 of others are doing grand things toward 

 helping us to care for, in a sensible way, 

 these bodies of ours; but with all these helps 

 let us remember Him who said, "Him who 

 Cometh to me I will in no wise cast out;" 

 and I am sure this promise includes the for- 

 getfulne&s of old people, even in such a mat- 

 ter as failing to mail the letters that are al- 

 ready in their jjocket, ready to go. 



I do not believe that out in the woods (or 

 anywhere else for that matter, all by your- 

 self) is the best place or condition for a 

 New Year's resolution, nor for a resolution 

 of any sort, to break away from sinful hab- 

 its. Make your pledge in the presence of 

 your good wife or sister, or, better still — yes, 

 far better, in your weekly prayer-meeting, 

 and let all your brothers and sisters in the 

 church hear it, and ask them to pray for 

 you. This is the common-sense way, and 

 the one the Holy Scripture endorses. 



At the close of a business letter my good 

 friend Terry takes in a similar thought. 

 Here is what he says: 



Dear Mr. Hoot:— Glad you are well. Really it 

 wouldn't look very well for you to be any other 

 way. And I am glad, also, that you have a type- 

 writer. It is well to keep up with the times — keep 

 growing if we want to stay here. When we stop we 

 stagnate and begin to die. God smiles on a progres- 

 sive fighter— that is, if he lives in accord with the 

 Creator's laws. 



Hudson, O., Dec. 17. Terey. 



Do you see the connection? It certainly 



