The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 4, April, 1862

To us, my countrymen, the lesson comes;
Our night of winter dawns in brightest day;
The storm is passing, and the rising sun
Dispels our doubts, drives cloudy fears away.

The sun of freedom, veiled in clouds too long,
Sheds o'er our land its rays of quickening life;
And liberty, our starry banner, waves,
Proclaiming freedom mid the battle's strife.

STRIKING TURPENTINE

Not a bad story that of the physician, who, vaccinating several medical students, 'performed the ceremony' for a North Carolinian from the pitch, tar and turpentine districts. The lancet entering the latter's arm a little too deep, owing to the Corn-cracker jerking his arm through nervousness, one of the medical students called out,—

'Take care there, doctor, if you don't look out you'll strike turpentine.'

The Corn-cracker—full of spirit—wanted to fight.

We should have handed this anecdote over to X., who travels through the Pines, that he might pronounce on its authenticity. The following, however, we know to be true—on the word of a very spirituelle dame, long resident in the Old North State. When the present war first sent its murmurs over the South, an old bushman earnestly denied that it 'would ruin everything.' 'Kin it stop the turpentime from running?' he triumphantly cried. 'In course not. Then what difference kin it make to the country?'

The following sketch, 'Hiving the Bees and what came of it,' from a valued friend and correspondent in New Haven, is a humorous and truthful picture of the old-fashioned rural 'discipline' once so general and now so rapidly becoming a thing of the past:—

HIVING BEES AND WHAT CAME OF IT.

When a boy at school in the town of G– I became acquainted with old Deacon Hubbard and his wife—two as good Christian people as could be found, simple in their manners and kind-hearted. The deacon was 'well to do in the world,' having a fine farm, a pleasant house, and, with his quiet way of living, apparently everything to make him comfortable.

He took great delight in raising bees, and the product of his hives was every year some hundreds of pounds of honey, for which there was always a ready market, though he frequently gave away large quantities among his neighbors.

One Sunday morning, when passing the place of Deacon Hubbard on my way to meeting, I saw the deacon in his orchard near his house, apparently in great trouble about something in one of his apple trees. I crossed the road to the fence and called to him, and asked him what was the matter. He was a very conscientious man, and would not do anything on the Lord's day that could be done on any other; but he cried, 'Oh, dear! my bees are swarming, and I shall surely lose them. If I was a young man I could climb the tree and save them, but I am too old for that.' I jumped over the fence, and as I approached him he pointed to a large dark mass of something suspended from the limb of an apple tree, which to me was a singular-looking object, never having before seen bees in swarming time. I had great curiosity to see the operation of hiving, and suggested that perhaps I could help him, though at the time afraid the bees would sting me for my trouble. The gratification to be derived I thought would repay the risk, and calling to mind some lines I had heard,—

'Softly, gently touch a nettle,
It will sting thee for thy pains;
Grasp it like a man of mettle,
Soft and harmless it remains,—'

I told him that I would assist him. He assured me that if I could only get a rope around the limb above and fasten it to the one on which the bees were, then saw off that limb and lower it down, he could secure them without much trouble.

With saw and rope in hand I ascended the tree, and, after due preparation, severed the limb and carefully lowered it within the deacon's reach. I was surprised, and felt repaid for my trouble, to see with what ease and unconcern Dea. Hubbard, with his bare hands, scooped and brushed the swarm of bees into a sheet he had prepared, and how readily he got them into a vacant hive. Many thanks did the deacon proffer me for my timely assistance, and moreover insisted on my staying with him to dine. It seemed to me that I was never in a more comfortable house, and I am sure I never received a more cordial greeting than that bestowed upon me by his venerable spouse.

The place where I boarded with several other boys was with a widow lady by the name of White, who was very kind to me, but who had the misfortune to have had three husbands, and her daughters did not all revere the memory of the same father, and consequently there were oftentimes differences among them.

For several days after this transaction I had noticed on the table at our daily meal a nice dish of honey, an unusual treat, but to which we boys paid due respect.

My term at school expired, and I went home to my father's, a distance of some thirty miles, and assisted him on the farm during the fall months, employing much of my leisure time in studying.

My father was a stern, straight-forward man—a member of the Orthodox church, and one who professed to believe in all the proprieties of life, and endeavored to impress the same on the minds of his children.

One day, after dinner, he said to me, in his stern way of speaking,—'Gilbert, what kind of scrape did you get into in G–?'

For my life I could not tell what I had been doing, and had but little chance to think, ere he tossed a letter across the table and said, 'Read that, and tell me what it means!' The letter was directed to me, but he had exercised his right to open and read it for me. It was from G–, and signed by the four deacons of the church there, asking explicit answers to the following questions:—1st. Did you help Deacon Hubbard hive his bees? 2d. If so, did you receive any remuneration from him for your services? 3d. Will you state what it was? You are expected to answer the questions fully.'

'What have you to say to that, young man?' said my father, with more than usual sternness; and I began to think that I had got into some kind of difficulty.

I told him that I would answer the letter, so went to my room and wrote, saying that I did help Deacon Hubbard hive his bees, and that I had been paid a thousand times by the many acts of kindness of himself and wife, and should always feel happy in doing anything for them that I could.

As my father read this letter I had written, I noticed a smile on his countenance, which lasted but an instant, when he said, 'You may send it; but I want to know what this scrape is, and I will.'

A few days after the reply was sent, another letter arrived from the four deacons, stating that I had not been explicit enough in my answer, and wanted me to say, 1st. Whether I had helped Deacon Hubbard hive his bees on Sunday. 2d. Whether I had ever received from him a large pan of honey in the comb? 3d. Whether my father was a member of the church? 4th. Whether he would give his consent for me to come to G– on business of great importance if they would pay my expenses, and how soon I could come?

It was cold weather, several months after I left G–, when this letter came to hand, and I did not fancy a ride of thirty miles at that time; I however had permission to promise that I would be there on the first Monday in May, which was the day of 'General Training,' and a great day at that period. In my answer to the second letter I said that I thought I had answered their first question sufficiently before; and in answer to the second I would say, that I had never received any honey from Deacon Hubbard; to the third, that my father was a member of the church; and to the fourth, that I would come there on the day named above.

The first Monday in May was a bright and lovely day, and at an early hour I mounted a horse and started for G–, arriving there before noon. On my way into the village I had to pass the house of Deacon Hubbard, who, knowing that I was expected that day, was looking for my approach, and as I drew near the house I saw his venerable form in the road. It was my intention to pass his house without being seen, but that was impossible. He insisted on my going into the house. His good wife met me at the door with a cordial greeting, but, with tearful eyes, said she feared there was some dreadful trouble in store for me, for the deacons of the church had been watching for me all the morning. After explaining as well as I could the reason of my visit, with the little information I had, Deacon Hubbard exclaimed—'Well, I don't know but they'll make you walk the church aisle, for there's some trouble somewhere.' We had but little time for conversation before Mrs. H. saw the venerable deacons approaching the house; and I shall never forget the solemn look and steps with which they advanced, the senior deacon, Flagg, leading the procession. As they were ushered into the front room they seated themselves in a row according to their respective ages, each wearing the solemn countenance of a Pilgrim father. When I entered the room they all arose and took me by the hand, thanking me for faithfully keeping my promise, and hoped the Lord would reward me therefor. Deacon Flagg, after a few preliminary remarks, said: 'Young man, there has been a grievous sin committed among the Lord's anointed in our church, and we have sent for you that we may be enabled to detect the erring one! and we hope you will so far consider the importance of the matter as to answer truly the questions that may be propounded to you. My young friend, will you have the goodness to say, in the hearing of our good brother, Deacon Hubbard, whether or not you ever received from him a present of a large pan of honey for helping him hive his bees?'

I answered that I never had. All eyes were turned on Deacon H., and an audible groan came from Deacon Harris as I made my reply. Deacon Flagg addressed me as follows:—'My youthful friend, will you be willing to accompany these gentlemen to the house of sister White, and say the same before her?' I was willing, provided my friend Deacon Hubbard would go along, which he consented to do, and we started.

It was but a short way across the Common, and ours was a solemn, silent procession, and I must have appeared like a very culprit. On nearing the house, Deacon Flagg said he would first enter and inform sister White of our business, and return when she was ready to receive us. He returned in a short time, with a longer face than before, and as he approached us, clasping his hands, he said with an agonized tone, 'Dear brethren, Oh! it is all too true! Satan entered her heart,—she coveted the honey,—and fell.' A groan of holy horror came from all the good old men. It was not necessary for us to enter the abode of wickedness, he said, for she would confess all.

The whole proceeding had been a mystery to me, but I soon learned that the next day after hiving the bees, Deacon Hubbard had sent a large pan of honey to sister White's house, intended for me, but she gave us boys a little for a few days and put the rest away; or, as she afterwards said, she coveted it, and said nothing to me about it; and I should probably have known nothing of it had it not been for a disagreement between herself and daughters about a division of the honey, which finally got to be a church matter.

Deacon Hubbard insisted on my going to dine with him; so, with a parting shake of the hand with the other four venerable men, we started for his house. Such a feast as dame Hubbard had provided on that occasion boys do not often see; substantial food enough for half a score of men, aside from the pies and plum pudding which made their appearance in due course; and in front of the dish assigned to me was a dish of the purest honey. After dinner Deacon Hubbard took me to see his bees, and explained many things in relation to them curious and instructive, promising more information on the subject if he could prevail upon me to remain in G– till the next morning. The fatigue of the long ride that day, and my desire to see a little of the 'Training,' decided me to remain over night.

In the morning my horse was fresh, having been well taken care of by my friend; so, after a hearty breakfast, I bade adieu to the good couple, with a pleasant recollection of their hospitality and kindness. When ready to start, dame Hubbard, with the best intentions, brought me a large pail of honey, wishing I would carry it home to my parents, but as it was impossible for me to carry it on horseback, I had to decline.

It was near noon the next day when I reached home, and my first greeting from my father was, 'Well, Gilbert, now let me know about the scrape you got into last summer in G–.'

I told him all I had learned about the matter, to which be expressed his pleasure that it was no worse, and gave me much good advice as to the future.

A few weeks after I readied home there was a large tub of honey left at my father's house, with a letter for me, informing me that sister White had been expelled from the church in G– for covetousness; that my friends the Hubbards were well; that the four deacons spoke very highly in my praise, and hoped I would feel rewarded for the trouble I had taken. Years have passed since the matters here mentioned took place, but up to this time nothing has been said to me about 'paying my expenses.'

    JAY G. BEE.

Mrs. Malaprop founded a school which has been prolific in disciples. From one of these we learn that—

Old Mr. P. died a short time ago, much to the regret of his many friends, for he was a good neighbor, and had always lived honestly and uprightly among his fellow-men. At the time of his funeral Mrs. L. was sorrowing for his loss, with others of her sex, and paid the following tribute to his memory:

'Poor Mr. P., he was a good man, a kind man, and a Christian man—he always lived according to HOYLE, and died with the hope of a blessed immortality.'

'Played the wrong card there.'

ADAM'S FAMILY JARS

IN CRACKED NUMBERS

One fact is fundamental,
One truth is rudimental;
Before man had the rental
Of this dwelling of a day,
He was in nothing mental,
But an image-man of clay.