748 



all around the cabin, and next morning I 

 was back there again bright and early. It 

 was interesting to see how my various fruits 

 had stood the years of neglect. A Yellow 

 Transparent apple-tree had made an enor- 

 mo«6 growth, and was just bending with 

 beautiful apples soon to be ripe. There 

 were also some beautiful sour cherries; but 

 cherries are so plentiful in that region that 

 no one seems to care for the cherries out in 

 the woods. Two mulberry-trees were so 

 laden with luscious fruit, just beginning to 

 ripen, that their willowy limbs lay resting 

 on the ground in the deep grass.* My cur- 

 rant-bushes also had stood neglect pretty 

 well; and three Paragon chestnut-trees 

 gave ijromise of quite a crop of nuts. 



It was going to be a busy day with me, 

 and so I had to bid adieu to the old cottage. 

 In leaving I happened to glance my eye 

 back of the house where Mrs. Root and I 

 planted a variety of roses. Back there in 

 the wilderne-ss were roses, almost a wagon- 

 load of them, many of them as large as 

 saucers, " wasting their sweetness on the 

 desert air." As I thought of the pleasant 

 liours we passed there years ago, and as I 

 looked thru the windows of the deserted 

 old cabin and saw still on the walls the 

 photograjDhs of the children, and the other 

 pictures Mrs. Root had fixed up so taste- 

 fully in that old wildwood home, it brought 

 back so many memories that I almost felt 

 like crying because I knew I should prob- 

 ably never go back there again to live. Mrs. 

 Root thinks that, at our age, one home in 

 riorida and one in Ohio are enough for us. 



As 1 had planned walking many miles 

 before night, I reluctantly started off. Soon 

 I was in that old lumber road up thru the 

 hills under the xlense shade of the maples 

 and other trees. The beauty of the morning 

 scene, and the inspiration of the fresh air 

 away up toward the top of the hill, prompt- 

 ed rae to break forth out loud in praise of 

 God. I prayed for many things, and espe- 

 cially that my influence during the busy day 

 that lay before me might be blessed. As I 

 came out of the woods I have now a distinct 

 recollection of a feeling that my prayer was 

 going to be answered. 



I have before mentioned that my good old 

 mother used to say something like this: She 

 would tell me what she wanted, and what 

 .she expected of me ; and then she would end 

 by saying, " A mos, I have been praying 

 over it, and I have had the assurance that 

 my prayer will be answered." 



Dear friends, do not think me visionary 

 when I say that I too felt I had "assurance" 



* Tn that same " deep grass " were great luscious 

 strawberries, the remnants of our strawberry patcli 

 of years ago. 



GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



that the " talk " with the dear Savior as I 

 went up that shady path thru the woods 

 would be answered.* Two years ago I told 

 you of Mrs. Boone, who led th'e prayer- 

 meeting there in that Bingham church while 

 her baby laj- on a pillow on the floor " coo- 

 ing " to himself. Well, when I got to the 

 top of the hill I found this same Mrs. 

 Boone; and as she smilingly expressed her 

 pleasure at seeing me once more, she point- 

 ed thru a window where there were two 

 beautiful children instead of one. Mr. Boone 

 was cultivating potatoes on the hillside 

 where he had just made a clearing. I wish 

 the readers of Gleanings could have seen 

 him get his horse and cultivator thru the 

 snags and roots, and dark, rich, loamy soil. 

 While we were talking, a bright young boy 

 eyed me curiously. I had not seen him for 

 so many years that I did not know him; but 

 we soon made friends. At the time of my 

 last visit, his mother, Mrs. Wilson, was an 

 invalid; but I found her then looking well 

 and strong, and at work in the garden. 



My next call was at the home of her 

 mother-in-law, Mrs; Wilson, who has been 

 superintendent of that Bingham Sunday- 

 school ever since it was started, about four- 

 teen years ago, or almost that. Very soon 

 after T got there she said something like 

 this : 



"0 Mr. Root! you ought to have got 

 around to the Endeavor iDrayer-meeting last 

 night. Jimraie Hilbert led the meeting." 



* In going from our cabin in the woods to our 

 little church over between the hills we were obliged 

 to climb over one of the tallest hills in that region ; 

 and from the summit of this hill there is a magnifi- 

 cent view of Grand Traverse Bay on the east and of 

 Carp Lake on the west. For years past, when going 

 over this hill I have been in the habit of singing 

 " Beulali Land " — that is, if I were not too much 

 out of breath, as we often are when climbing that 

 hill; and it just now occurs to me that the second 

 verse of Beulah Land fits in wonderfully with the 

 sentiment of the tract in this Home paper. Here 

 it is: 



The Savior comes and walks with me, 

 And sweet communion here have we; 

 He gently leads me with his hand, 

 For this is heaven's border-land. 

 Chorus : 



Beulah land, sweet Beulah land! 

 As on thy highest mount I stand, 



1 look away across the sea 



Where mansions are prepared for me, 

 And view the shining glory shore 

 My heav'n, my home for evermore. 

 Notice particularly the words "sweet communion," 

 and see how beautifully it comes in, as one stands 

 still on the summit, and pulls in great lungfuls of 

 the air in the Grand Traverse region. Why, it is 

 almost worth a trip to northern Michigan to stand 

 on that great hill and sing with all your might, 

 As on the highest mount I stand 

 And look away across the sea. 

 It may require some stretch of faith to add — 

 Where mansions are prepared for me ; 



but to stretch your faith and your lungs also is good 

 for one, both spiritually and physically; and I truly 

 believe it is our privilege even in this world to get 

 a faint glimpse now and then of that " shining 

 shore." 



