AUGUST 1, 1914 



607 



A. L 



OUR MOME 



Butter and honey shall he eat, that he may know 

 to refuse the evil, and choose the good. — Isa. 7:15. 



AN ADDRESS DELIVERED BEFORE THE OHIO 



STATE BEEKEEPERS^ ASSOCIATION ON 



FIELD DAY, JULY 9, 1914. 



Perhaps, friends, I should make a little 

 apology for this long story, and explain 

 that at different times before the aifair came 

 off Ernest kept suggesting different points 

 that I should touch on. I warned him thnt 

 my talk would have to be a long one if I 

 put in what I had planned and also the 

 matter he suggested. But he remai'ked that 

 a good many of the friends had come fvDm 

 a distance, ai.a that they would be very glad 

 to listen as long as I kept on talking. Per- 

 haps I might explain that the speech was 

 delivered in one of our warehouses. Seats 

 were improvised of boards from the near-by 

 lumber-yards, resting on boxes of sections. 

 As the weather was very warm the windows 

 and doors were, of course, all wide open. 

 My remarks were as follows: 



I want to remind you, friends, that it is 

 a little bit dangerous to ask an old man like 

 me to talk. Old men are prone to be lengthy, 

 especially when invited to take all the time 

 they wish. Before starting, I wish to men- 

 tion a little story I read somewhere recently. 

 A young man was preparing to go out as a 

 foreign missionary — I think it was to South 

 Africa. He was very enthusiastic about it. 

 Some of the older and more experienced 

 men tried to explain to him the hardsliips 

 and difficulties. One of them remarked, 

 " My young friend, please consider that 

 down there sometimes the temperature goes 

 up to 110 degrees in the shade." 



Our young friend replied, " But you don't 

 have to stay in the shade all the time, do 

 you?" 



Now, this incident illustrates two points: 

 First, that you, my friends, do not have to 

 stay "in the shade;" for at any time you 

 can get up and go out of this wide-open 

 door whenever you are tired and feel un- 

 comfortable. Second, it illustrates the en- 

 thusiasm with which I began bee culture. 

 Standing here before you I confess I feel a 

 little proud of the fact that I can remember 

 quite distinctly things that happened over 

 70 years ago. Some of the older men may 

 remember that long, but the ladies rarely 

 remember things that hajipened over forty 

 or fifty years ago. 



It was very nearly 75 years ago when T 

 was born in a log cabin two miles north of 

 where we now are. My mother used to sav 

 lli;)t I was always curious about every thing 



that is going on and to be seen, even in my 

 infancy. As soon as I could talk I asked 

 more questions in an hour than our famiiv 

 and all the neighbors could an^wei ir. a 

 week. There were seven of us childreu — 

 three younger and threp older. When I 

 could get outdoors I was still more curious 

 and inquiring. The older children had much 

 to say about the town of Medina and its 

 people; and I teased so much that when I 

 was four years old I was permitted to go to 

 town with father in a big double wagon. 

 It was &:1 woods then on both sides of the 

 road. The roads were mudd}', and full of 

 the roots of trees, and it was a remarkable 

 experience of my early life. I especially 

 remember the boxes of honey that were in 

 that lumber-wagon. Father was a carpen- 

 ter, and had made some very neat boxes of 

 thin lumber; and when we reached town and 

 he pried off the tops of the boxes, the crowd 

 that gathered around the wagon very soon 

 paid his price and cut the honey out in 

 chunks. Before going home he wa? obliged 

 to go to the blacksmith's. The first wo-ds 

 from the smith were, " Brother Root, 1 suo- 

 pose you have got that honey you promisid 

 me?" 



Father replied, " Why, did I promise you 

 some honey ? " 



" Certainly you did," said -the smith, as 

 he looked over the wagon. " You have not 

 gone and sold it all, have you ? " 



Father replied that he was very sorry, but 

 he had forgotten all about it; and when the 

 smith asked him if he could not bring some 

 later, father said there would not be any 

 more that season. I remember the smith 

 then took out of his pocket the biggest .jack- 

 knife I had ever seen. It had a long bright 

 blade. He pried off the top of a box and 

 scraped off some of the honey still sticking 

 to the board. I remember how he smacked 

 his lips and expressed his regret that he 

 could not have some of that nice honey. T 

 felt sorry for him then, and, my good 

 friends, I have been sorry for that poor 

 blacksmith for over 70 years; and I am 

 Sony now, not only for the smith, but for 

 eveiybody else — men, women, and children 

 — who cannot have God-given honey to go 

 with their daily bread. " JVIilk and honey 

 shall he eat, that he may know to refuse the 

 evil, and choose the good." 



I think there must have been quite a few 

 jjeople who wanted more of that nice honey. 

 Very likely it was basswood honey, because 

 (here were more basswoods around our for- 

 est home than there were of fields of while 



