A PARABLE FROM A FARMER'S SON TO ALL GLEANERS.
I was born in a house where there were many fields attached—in fact, it was called a farm-house, so, from a boy, I well knew what a "gleaner" meant. I have seen all sizes in a field, picking up corn. But gleaning is not so general as it used to be. One reason is, many farmers are too covetous to leave much in their fields for gleaners. Another is, many persons are too proud to be gleaners. But still there are many who are entitled to the character of "gleaner."
Now, gleaners, let us come a little closer. First, there must be the person known as the farmer; secondly, there must be the fields. These fields must be sown with corn. It must ripen, be cut and carried. Then is the time for the gleaner to take his or her part. The gleaners must have a will, and patience to wait. They need eyes, hands, and feet.
At the time the farmer's son is writing this, gleaning is over. It is winter. But he can tell gleaners of a farm containing sixty-six fields, some much larger than others, but all the fields grow the best corn that can be found at any market in the world. There is not one whole grass field found on the farm. There are a number of young and old people live near this farm, but they do not want to be gleaners. They look over the gates sometimes, but, having eyes so much like the mole, they either do not take that to be corn which is really so, or else they pursue other things they feel are so much better than gleaning in any of these fields; and not being very poor, but having enough gold to buy a few oxen, they tell some of the farmer's workmen they prefer buying or taking to gleaning, so they wish them "good morning"; but they are very polite to the men they join in conversation with. Then there are other people near these fields who say they hate the great farmer. In fact, they are so evil-disposed that they talk freely of hating the fields and the corn too; and there is not one workman on the estate they will give a good word to. This the farmer's son can vouch for truth; and he has a good many brothers belonging to his family, who could be called as witnesses if there was any need.
But we must not overlook others who live near the farm. Most of them dwell in a very low-built house; there is no upstairs. They live on the ground floor, and not far from the spot where they dwell, some of the labourers on the farm live, and they join in conversation occasionally. But these poor people who dwell in the low-built cottages are shy, and think they take a liberty even in saying a few words to these labourers; and as for talking freely to the great farmer, they dare not. If he passes, they only bow before him and look on the ground. You would almost wonder how they are kept alive. They are nearly always hungry, but, now and then, they get just enough to keep them alive.
When the "season" comes round, those that observe may soon find these are the old-fashioned gleaners. They possess willing legs, eyes, and hands. They use their legs by starting from their poor home; and, after walking some distance, the road brings them to this farm of sixty-six fields. These fields are all numbered. Some look at one field, and some at another, but the hedges are all good. No one can get through them, and a high gate is at each entrance. One of the gleaners looked with a very wishful eye over the gate of the eighth field, and she desired to be among the gleaners, but there was a notice that "trespassers will be prosecuted." How earnestly the gleaner uses his eyes, and looks through the bars of the gate; but there are no ears of corn to be seen at present by him, so he cannot use his hands, though they are both ready to pick up; and the thought comes, "No doubt there will soon be plenty of corn seen, and, if I might, would I not pick up? I feel I would glean beside any gleaner. If he could pick faster than I, he would have to be very nimble. I do not know that the great landowner and farmer would allow me to go into his field. But, though my hands now hang down, and I cannot use them, I will go home and wait, and come again. If I cannot get admission to one field, I may to another. I should be happy if I could glean in the smallest field on the farm. Perhaps, when I come again, that notice-board may be taken down. If so, I think I shall venture into No. 8 or 17; but should I not have nerve enough, I shall humbly ask one of the labourers, and if he says he does not know, I will, if an opportunity occurs, bow myself to the earth and ask the great owner. I have been told by some that he often appears as if he could not condescend to speak to those that live in such a low house, yet, if you press your suit, he will speak in the kindest manner, and ask what you really want."
The farmer's son noticed, as this gleaner returned to his humble home, one of the labourers greeted him with a "Good evening," and asked him why he looked so sad? He replied, "I have been a long journey to glean on the farm owned by your master, and I looked at the eighth field, but could not see that there were any ears of corn for me to pick up; and besides, I noticed a board, that 'trespassers will be prosecuted,' and thoughts would keep coming in my mind as I returned, that possibly I should never be admitted into any of the fields as a gleaner." The labourer said, "You must not faint, but, as soon as the sun rises in the morning, try and find the forty-second field, and most probably you will find the gate open. If, as you enter, the first part of the field looks bare, walk to almost the middle, and I think you will find some gleanings to pick up." He returned thanks, bowed, and they parted.
The next morning, as soon as the sun was up, he arose and did as he was bid. After reaching the field, he found the part where the ears of corn lay, and he picked up as many as he needed. On his return, he met several other gleaners who were seeking a field to glean in. He bade them go to the same one where he had picked up an armful, and there they would find the result of perseverance.
The parable is closed for this time. Will any reader, under twelve years of age, expound it? Who are the farmer and the son? Who are the labourers and gleaners? What are the sixty-six fields? And what are the names of those specially referred to? Search from Genesis to Revelation.
Your true friend,
The Farmer's Son
(Over fifteen years old).
[A volume, "The Loss of All Things for Christ," will be given for the best answer. The writer must be under twelve.]