AMERICAN BEE JOURNAL. 



173 



On Important Subjects. 



An Account of My Mi-Trouble. 



KEY. L. L. LANGSTBOTH. 



For many years, as most of my read- 

 ers know, I have suffered from what I 

 have been wont to call "my head- 

 trouble," which not only unfits me for 

 mental exertion, but also disqualifies 

 me for enjoying almost anything per- 

 sonal to myself. While under its full 

 power, the things in which I usually 

 take the greatest pleasure, are the very 

 ones which distress me most. I not 

 only lose all interest in bees, but prefer 

 to sit, when they are flying, on that side 

 of the house, where I can neither hear 

 nor see them. Gladly, if at all conven- 

 ient, would I have my library of bee- 

 works hidden from my sight ; and often 

 I have been so morbid that even the 

 sight of a big letter B would painfully 

 affect me. 



At such times, fearful of losing my 

 reason if I allowed my mind to prey 

 upon itself, I have resorted to almost 

 constant reading to divert my thoughts. 

 The great objection to that is, that it 

 not only fails to interest me when I am 

 the most unwell, but by association of 

 ideas, too often deepens my distress. To 

 use the words of the old poet Herbert — 



My thoughts like case-knives are ; 

 They pierce me to the heart. 



I have, therefore, for years, read less 

 and less, and occupied my time mainly 

 with chess, which is too impersonal to 

 suggest the melancholy ideas which so 

 often torment me when reading. As 

 soon as I awake I try, by chess problems, 

 the most intricate that I can find or in- 

 vent, to forestall the approach of gloomy 

 thoughts, continuing to play as though 

 a fortune could be made by it, or as if I 

 were playing for my very life ; and often, 

 during the large part of the night, my 

 brain seems to be incessantly moving 

 and supervising the pieces on the chess- 

 board. (I very seldom play with any 

 antagonist — on an average, not as often 

 as once a year, lest I should abuse their 

 time.) 



Methinks I hear some of my readers 

 exclaim, "Can this be the condition of 

 a minister of the gospel of Christ? 

 Ought not the blessed promises of God's 

 word always to enable him to attain, in 



some measure at least, to the apostle's 

 experience when he said, " Now the God 

 of hope fill you with joy and peace in be- 

 lieving, and make you to abound in 

 hope, by the power of the Holy Ghost?" 

 No ! no ! God has not promised to over- 

 rule his natural laws by constant mirac- 

 ulous interposition. Can you give a 

 wholesome appetite for food to a person 

 intensely nauseated, by merely showing 

 it to him and inviting him to sit down 

 and partake of it ? He knows that the 

 food spread before him is good ; but can 

 this knowledge give him an appetite 

 for it? 



It is a great help, doubtless, even un- 

 der the most depressing circumstances, 

 to know that God is good, and to hope 

 that, in due time, the dark side of the 

 picture will be turned from us, and its 

 bright one again be displayed. This 

 hope often sustains us when otherwise 

 we might be utterly cast down. 



Read the 42d and 43d Psalm, if you 

 doubt what I affirm. 



"My tears have been my meat day 

 and night, while they continually say, 

 'Where is thy God ?'" (The Psalmist 

 undoubtedly had in mind those who say, 

 " Of what worth is a religion which can 

 leave a believer so despondent?") 

 " When I remember these things, I pour 

 out my soul in me ;■ for I had gone with 

 the multitude, I went with them to the 

 house of God, with the voice of joy and 

 praise ; why art thou cast down, O my 

 soul, and why art thou disquieted within 

 me ? Hope thou in God, for I shall yet 

 praise him for the help of his counte- 

 nance. O my God, my soul is cast down 

 within me. Deep calleth unto deep, at 

 the noise of thy waterspouts. All thy 

 waves and thy billows have gone over 

 me. Why art thou cast down, O my 

 soul ? Hope thou in God ; for I shall 

 yet praise him who is the help of my 

 countenance and my God." Not now ! 

 oh, not now ! but I shall yet praise him. 

 "Oh, send out thy light and thy truth ! 

 Let them lead me ; let them bring me to 

 thy holy hill, and to thy tabernacles. 

 Then will I go uto the altar of God, unto 

 God, my exceeding joy. Yea, upon the 

 harp will I praise thee, O God, my God!" 



In the 30th Psalm we have the experi- 

 ence of one who, out of the deepest de- 

 pression, had been raised tc the heights 

 of joy and gladness. "O God, my God, 

 I cried unto thee, and thou has delivered 

 me ! Thou hast brought up my soul 

 from the grave. Sing unto the Lord, 

 all ye saints, at the remembrance of his 

 holiness ; for his»anger endureth but a 

 moment, and in his favor is life. Weep- 

 ing may endure for a night, but ioy 



