You can bury the life out of good seed in good soil by planting the seed too deep; just as you can lose the gain of well-doing by over-doing, in almost every line of human endeavor. Every farmer knows there is such a thing as killing seed by too deep planting; but not every farmer has good judgment—and is sure to exercise it—as to the amount of covering for each particular kind of seed sown by him. So as to the proper limits of all well-doing. Every man admits that there is a possibility of over-doing; but he is not sure to see his own danger in that line, in each case in hand for the hour. At a recent meeting of prominent agriculturists it was declared, that "if covered too deep with compact soil no seed will germinate;" and that "there is good reason for the old rule, not to plant seeds more than five times their diameter in depth." Corn, wheat, barley, beans, clover, all were instanced, from actual experiment, as doing well with a light covering of soil, but as utterly failing of a crop when overloaded with the best of soil. And any fair comparison of notes from observing cultivators of mental and moral soil, would exhibit similar results in the sowing of the seeds of truth. The farmer's rule is a good one for the preacher, the teacher, the parent: "not to plant seeds more than five times their diameter in depth." When a parent counsels a child, he does so with the thought that he is sowing seed which ought to show itself in a future harvest of good. His words are intended as germinal. He chooses them with a view to their reproductive power. If he points out to the child a mistake or a fault just committed, or a danger or an opportunity just ahead, he has good seed, which is well worth the planting. But if he buries that seed under multiplied words of comment, or of upbraiding, or of entreaty, the seed may be killed by its covering. A large share of all the seed sown by parents in the minds of their children is smothered to death by the mother-earth of the scolding, or of the needless repetitions and amplifications which follow it. And if any one will recall out of his own childhood's memories the lessons of truth which have been most abundantly reproductive in his life and conduct, he will be sure to see that they are the outgrowth of seeds which were not buried too deep with unnecessary words in their planting. They were left near enough to the mind's surface not to be beyond the influence of light and air from above. In all parental planting in the minds of children "there is good reason for the old rule, not to plant seeds more than five times their diameter in depth." In the teacher's chair, in the Bible-class room, in the superintendent's desk, and in the pulpit, there is always a danger of over-heaping soil on the seed of truth. Too much comment may kill out the life of the text. To begin with, he who sows must have clearly in mind the distinction between the seed and the soil. "The seed is the word"—God's word, not man's thought about that word. That word needs to be handled as seed. It should be planted with judicious care, and not overheaped with soil of any sort. Soil is necessary. Planting below the surface, by the stimulating question, or a suggestive remark, or a helpful illustration, is better than broadcast sowing on the bare and hard earth. But, after all, the seed is the chief thing; not the soil. Yet there are teachers and superintendents and preachers who take one or two grains of good truth seed, and then devote themselves to shoveling earth upon it until the seed is buried out of sight and hope forever. The seed was good enough, but it was killed in the planting. In all attempts at planting the seed of God's word, in class, school, or congregation, "there is good reason for the old rule, not to plant seeds more than five times their diameter in depth." Heaping soil on the seed is the great barrier to seed-growing in every field of human effort. Mistaking this soil-heaping for seed-planting is one of the commonest errors of those who long for mental and moral harvests, and fail of them. Many a house-keeper would have better servants if she planted more seeds, and piled up less soil over those she did plant, in her talks with her servants. Many a merchant, or manufacturer, or banker, or overseer of laborers, kills nine-tenths of the seeds of instruction he uses, by the useless words of fault-finding or of reproach which he heaps over his counsels to those who are under him. Many a man fails of permanently interesting a neighbor in his personal affairs because when he has planted the seeds of information about his case, he buries those seeds beyond hope of life, by his endless explanations and reasons for desiring help and sympathy. Many a person who recognizes his fault in a former interview with an acquaintance, and desires to make confession of it, buries the seed of apology and regret under such a mass of soil, in his new words about the original cause of misunderstanding, that the seed itself fails to germinate, while the soil-heap above it is a new barrier to free intercourse between the acquaintances. In all our sowing for a harvest in the hearts of any of our fellows, "there is good reason for the old rule, not to plant seeds more than five times their diameter in depth." Not the covering soil, but the lightly covered seed, gives the hope of a harvest, in any planting. If we are to reap where we have sown, we must choose well our seed, must plant it wisely, and must resolutely refrain from crushing out its life by what we heap above it—merely because soil is abundant, and we enjoy shoveling. This truth would admit of many more specific applications; but here is soil enough for this seed. Now let it germinate.—S. S. Times.