Teacnmenz 
O NE of the greatest thinkers that ever 
lived has said: “Whatsoever a man 
soweth that shall he also reap.” This 
self-evident proposition applies with equal force 
to things spiritual, moral and physical, but 
“soweth” is a continuous process and in¬ 
cludes nurture and cultivation, as well 
as the actual planting. 
“THE HARVEST” must be preceded 
by a seed time, and between the two, long 
days or years of care and cultivation that de¬ 
termine the harvest. How true this is of the 
fruit grower! 
Behold the Parable of the 
Husbandman 
He seeketh out a goodly field in the Vale 
of Eschol; he setteth out an orchard of the 
choicest varieties, and sayeth to himself: “Go 
to, I will return after many days and gather 
the fruit thereof.” But alas, he counteth not 
on the scale, the codling moth, the caterpillar, 
and all the host of heaven, who hath harvested 
his crop before him. 
Then saith he: “1 will get me knowledge 
and all the wisdom of the ancients.” So he 
searcheth the parchment rolls, wherein he read- 
eth of Lime-Sulfur, a certain cure for all the ills 
that trees are heir to. 
He inquireth of the merchantmen, but their 
wares were exceedingly costly, and he saith: 
“Go to, my shekels are too hard-earned ; I will 
make mine own Lime-Sulfur”; so he buyeth 
brimstone and the choicest of lime; he buildeth 
vats and a mighty steam boiler. He addeth 
to these a powerful spray-pump; he anointeth 
his men-servants with choice vaseline; he array- 
eth them with slickers and gloves of the purest 
rubber; he covereth their eyes with wind¬ 
shields ; his horses are caparisoned with 
blankets. With this mighty host, he goeth 
forth to meet the enemy, in the vale of Eschol; 
as the sun pierceth the morning fog, he meeteth 
them in battle array. 
At evening he returneth to his tent weary, 
his men-servants and his horses wounded and 
battle-scarred, as tho’ beaten with many stripes; 
but lo, he is of a joyful heart, for he sayeth 
unto himself: “I have fought a good fight; I 
have saved my shekels; I have overcome mine 
enemy, the scale.” 
Lo, at harvest time, a bitter wail is heard, 
as a man crying for his first-born, for the scale 
hath taken the trees and the fruit thereof. 
