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Apostrophe To The Night

O dreamy night, soft silent hour!

Sweet bud of twilight in the flower!

Here in thy plot of garden lies

The poet's dream of paradise!

When down the dark, deep, dim dome, die

The embers of the sunset sky;

How mid thy grim, gray gulfs of gloom

Thy buds of glory break and bloom,

Bathed in that tender light that gives

The hope that dreams, the love that lives.

To thee, O night, when beauty spreads

Thy solar fields with daisy beds,

When bursting fountains flood the night

With silver seas of living light,

And in thy splendor soft and sweet

The World lies dreaming at thy feet,

To thee I turn, O night divine,

To pause, to worship at thy shrine;

To dream, to contemplate, to trace

God's footsteps down the walls of space;

To hear thy solitudes release

Their sacred symphonies of peace

That kindle in the heart's desire

Like tongues of Pentecostal Fire

And stir the soul with vision deep

Where Godhood's latent passions sleep.

To thee, O night, the dreamer turns

When thy rekindled altar burns!

Theodore E. Curtis.

MEMENTO. 5 0th ANNIVERSARY YEAR OF THE Y. M. M. I. A. Organized June 10, 18 75 Leaders in the great Jubilee celebration of June, 1925: Center, Superintendent George Albert Smith; left. First Assistant Superintendent Richard R. Lyman right. Second Assistant Superintendent Melvin J. Ballard; standing, left, Junius F. Wells, founder of the organization under President Brigham Young: right, Oscar A. Kirkham, Executive Director.

Improvement Era

Vol. XXIX JUNE, 1926 No. &

WHAT IS A CHRISTIAN?

Why the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is a Christian Church*

By President Anthony W. Ivins

I sincerely desire, my brethren and sisters, during the few moments of time that I may occupy, that I may have the benefit of your faith, exercised in my behalf. I appreciate fully the responsibility which I assume, as I stand here professing to teach the doctrines of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

The Advice of Gamaliel

The scripture which I am about to read I have often quoted before, but it appears so appropriate to the subject which I desire briefly to discuss that it will bear repetition. The apostles who had been chosen by our Lord had been imprisoned by those who were op- posed to the doctrines which they taught, and had been arraigned before the Jewish high priest, by whom they were accused of violating the law. When opportunity was granted them to speak in their own behalf, Peter stood up and said-

"The God of our fathers raised up Jesus, whom ye slew and hanged on a tree.

"Him hath God exalted with his right hand to be a Prince and a Savior, for to give repentance to Israel, and forgiveness of sins.

"And we are his witnesses of these things; and so is also the Holy Ghost whom God hath given to them that obey him.

"When they heard that, they were cut to the heart, and took counsel to slay them,

"Then stood there up one in the council, a Pharisee, named Gamaliel, a doctor of the law, had in reputation among all the people, and commanded to put the apostles forth a little space; and said unto them:

*A sermon delivered at the 9 6th annual conference of the Church, April 4, 1926.

Entered at the Post Office, Salt Lake City, Utah, as second class matter. Acceptance for mailing at special rate of postage provided for in Section 1103, Act of October 3, 1917, authorized on July 2, 1918, $2 per annum.

Address Room 40 6, Church Office Building, Salt Lake City, Utah.

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"Ye men of Israel, take heed to yourselves what ye intend to do as touching these men. * * *

"For if this counsel or this work be of men, it will come to nought: But if it be of God, ye cannot overthrow it."

Norway Decides the "Mormons" Are Not Christians

During the past ninety-six years the restored gospel of Christ has been preached in both the old and the new world without serious governmental opposition, or objection on the part of the people at large.

From the time of its introduction into the Scandinavian, and other countries of Europe, people who appear to have been prepared for the gospel before they heard it have joyfully accepted the message which the elders of the Church have carried to them, and the converts who have been gathered out from among those nations have become a pillar of strength to the Church.

To our surprise and regret the friendly relations which have so long existed have recently become greatly disturbed, because of the fact that our missionaries have been refused admittance to Norway, where, before, they had enjoyed the privileges accorded to other religious organizations. Upon inquiry regarding the reason for this changed attitude we were informed that representatives of the Christian churches of the country, in convention assembled, had passed resolutions to the effect that the "Mormon" Church is> not a Christian organization, and consequently we were not entitled to the privileges, and protection under the law, which we have hitherto enjoyed.

Our protest against this ruling was answered by the statement that the only means by which it could be modified would b.e for a con- ference of churches to assemble, and officially declare that the jury, which, without having given us an opportunity to be heard in our own behalf, had decided that we were guilty, must meet and reverse the decision which they had rendered, a court before which we could ex- pect no more justice than was accorded the Redeemer of the world, when arraigned before the Jewish Sanhedrin.

A Convention of Churches in this Land Declares us Un-Christian

From the published account of the proceedings of the general assembly of a convention of representatives of one of the great churches of our own country, held during the year just passed, I quote as follows:

"The American Islam. Thus has the 'Mormon' area often been characterized. It is an apt figure of speech. Those who live and labor in the atmosphere of this Islam of America, know what it means to go up against a stone wall, with scarcely ever feeling it give a little. The 'Mormon' has, to date, been far more zealous to convert the Christian, than the Christian has to convert him."

Islamism, as you are aware, is the religion of Mohammed. In one respect it is a good religion, for it at least teaches faith in, and service

WHAT IS A CHRISTIAN? 705

to a living God, the God of Abraham, but it does not recognize Jesus Christ as the Redeemer of the world, or as the Son of God.

From the foregoing, my brethren and sisters, you will observe that the Church of which you are members is declared, both in the old world and here in our own country, to be an un-Christian organiza- tion, and as a consequence you are declared not to be Christians.

Both Declarations Inexcusable and Untrue

Had statements such as those been made ninety-six years ago, soon after the organization of the Church, when means of obtaining information were limited, and the history and accomplishments of the Church were before it, and not behind, there might have been some reason for the exercise of charity towards the persons responsible for the publication of such statements to the people of the world; but now, after the lapse ofj nearly a century, after the doctrines of the Church have been expounded to the people of all civilized countries, after millions of publications setting forth the doctrines of the Church have been distributed, such statements can only be regarded as the result of either inexcusable ignorance or wilful desire to deceive the people by statements which are known to be untrue.

What Constitutes a Christian?

The situation suggests the question: What constitutes a Christian Church, a Christian community or individual, and by what rule, or tribunal is a question of such vital importance to be decided?

I suppose the general answer would be: A Christian is one who professes faith in, and follows the teachings of Christ, and that a body of people, organized as a worshiping assembly, professing faith in the Redeemer, would be regarded as a Christian church.

During the earliest history of the primitive church its mem- bers were not referred to as Christians, but as brethren, disciples or saints. It was at Antioch, as I remember, about ten years after the crucifixion, that the followers of the Redeemer were first called Christians, a name applied to them in derision, or contempt, which they accepted very much as we have accepted the name "Mormon," because we accept the Book of Mormon as a divine revelation from the Lord.

The first use of the word church, applied to the followers of Christ, so far as I am aware, was by the Redeemer himself when he declared to Peter that upon the rock of revelation he would build his Church, and that the gates of hell should not prevail against it. A very significant statement, a plain declaration that revelation is the founda- tion upon which the Church must rest.

We are told that the apostles, as they traveled from place to place, preaching to the people, ordained elders in every church, and after commending the converted members to the Lord passed on to other

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fields. Thus the entire body of converts became known as the Church of Christ, he being declared to be its head, the Church being subject to him in all things.

The Answer Given in the Words of our Lord and his Disciples

I know of no better authority on the question than the words* of our Lord, and those of his disciples, who followed after him.

Before an organization could be formed which could be designated as a church, it was necessary that converts be made to the divinity of the Redeemer, and the importance of the message which he brought to the people of the world. His doctrine, or as he taught, the doctrine ©f his Father who sent him, as he expounded it in his memorable sermon on the mount, teaches us the manner of life we should lead in order that we may be worthy to be called Christians.

He taught us to overcome the evil habits of the world, its pride and selfishness, becoming humble in spirit, and promised that by so doing we should inherit the blessings of the earth. He taught us that we are to be peace-makers, if we are to become the children of God: that our example should be such that others seeing our good works, would be led to glorify the name of our Father who is in heaven: that, as we hope for mercy, we should be merciful; that we should not sit in judgment upon others, for by the judgment with which we judge so shall we be judged; that we should not seek to exalr ourselves, for he who exalteth himself shall be abashed: that we should be charitable, but admonishing us that if we give alms to be seen of men, for our own glory, it availeth us nothing.

His entire doctrine was one which requires that men withdraw from the ambition, selfishness and strife of the world, and dedicate themselves to the service of the Lord, and their fellow men, and he covenanted that if they will do so the necessary temporal blessings shall be conferred upon them, as a reward for righteousness.

He declared another doctrine of great importance in that remark- able discourse, that not all who say Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he who doeth the will of our Father who is in heaven.

Therefore he said, whosoever heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them, I will liken him to a wise man who built his house upon a rock. And the rains descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon that house, and it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock. And he who heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them not shall be likened unto a foolish man, who built his house upon sand, and the rains descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon that house, and it fell, for it was founded upon sand, and great was the fall of it.

The acceptance of these first principles of the gospel were in-

WHAT IS A CHRISTIAN? 707

disp8nsable, but not sufficient to entitle one to be called a Christian. He must manifest his faith by accepting the ordinance of baptism, an ordinance which was administered to the Redeemer himself by John the Baptist, an ordinance without which our Lord declared a man cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.

Nor was baptism alone sufficient. John declared that his baptism was with water for the remission of sin, but that one who would come after him would baptize with fire and the Holy Ghost.

The Christian Church Defined

When Paul came to Ephesus he found certain disciples and asked if they had received the Holy Ghost. They answered we have not so much as heard that there be any Holy Ghost. Unto what then were you baptized? he asked, and they replied, Unto John's baptism. They were then baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus, and when Paul bad laid his hands upon them they received the Holy Ghost.

Those who believed and subjected themselves to the administra- tion of these simple first ordinances of the Church became Christians. They had manifested their faith in Christ, in his divinity, his1 death, and above all his resurrection from the grave, by being buried in the water of baptism, in a similitude of his death, and coming up from it with their sins washed away, born to newness of life, as he arose to newness of life, with his glorified, resurrected body.

Then came the climax, when, by laying on of hands by those in authority the Holy Ghost was conferred upon the baptized believer: the Holv Ghost, which takes of the things of the Father and mani- fests them unto man, which bears witness of the Father and the Son, not in a voice audible to our ordinary sense of hearing, but at the same time more potent and convincing than any words the human voice can utter; the Holy Ghost, who leads us into all truth and is an unfailing source of strength, wisdom and knowledge so long as we permit ourselves to be guided by his unerring counsels.

Such a person became a Christian, and an association of such people became a Christian church.

That a church may be brought into existence and endure it must be properly organized, with officers to preside over it and direct the conduct of its affairs, and these our Lord provided through the Twelve Apostles whom he chose, the quorums of the lesser priesthood with their helps in government, an organization complete in every detail, conferring upon the men chosen the keys of authority which belong to the priesthood, and which authorize them to act in the direction of the affairs of the Church.

That any group of persons may associate themselves together as a worshipping assembly, and call themselves a church, is conceded, and they are at liberty to choose any name they may desire by which their organization shall be known. For all the good which such an organ-

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ization may accomplish the Lord will give them credit, and they will be rewarded for their efforts to establish faith in the hearts of peo- ple, I believe, far beyond their expectations, for everything that is good, and persuadeth men to do good, cometh from God. The Latter- day Saints wish all people who are thus striving God-speed.

Calamities That Followed

After the crucifixion of the Redeemer, and the death of the apostles whom he had chosen, all of whom suffered violent ' death because of their faith, with the exception of John the Revelator, many different religious sects came into existence, numbers of them professing Christianity, but teaching doctrines at variance with those taught by the Redeemer and his disciples.

Prior to his crucifixion, our Lord plainly outlined to his disciples that the time was approaching when he would be offered up, when he would leave them, but promised that at a future time he would return and consummate the work which he had commenced. Upon one occasion, as he sat on the Mount of Olives, his disciples came to him and asked when these things should be, and whatJ would be the sign of his coming and of the end of the world.

The Redeemer outlined the conditions which would prevail at the time when he would come in glory, in the clouds of heaven, with such detail and accuracy that one who lives at the present time may read as he runs, and know that he lives1 in the day to which Christ referred. Read the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth chapters of the Gospel according to St. Matthew, my brethren and sisters, if you desire to know more of the tremendous importance of the dispensation in which you live.

Upon this1 occasion he said to his disciples: "Take heed that no man deceive you. For many shall come in my name, saying, I am Christ; and shall deceive many." For there shall be false Christs and false prophets, who if it were possible would deceive the very elect. And they shall deliver you up to be afflicted, and you shall be hated of all nations for my name's sake, and, most important of all, this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in all the world, as a witness unto all people, and then shall the end come.

The Prophet Isaiah says: "Behold the Lord maketh the earth empty, and maketh it waste, and turneth it upside down, and scattereth abroad the inhabitants thereof. The land shall be utterly emptied and spoiled."

The Reason for Apostasy and Calamities

Why are these dire calamities decreed? The prophet makes the reason clear: it is because both priests and people have transgressed the law of the Lord, changed the ordinances of his Church and broken the everlasting covenant. Our Lord gave us the key by which we may

WHAT IS A CHRISTIAN? 709

know the voice of the good Shepherd when this time of confusion and distress is upon us. When his disciples asked him whither they should go, or look, he replied: "Wheresoever the carcass is there will the eagles be gathered together," and, wherever the true Church of Christ is, there will the fruits of his gospel be manifested in the lives of the people.

Why the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is a Christian

Church

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is a Christian Church in the fullest sense of the word, the declaration of the so-called Christian churches of the world to the contrary notwithstanding. In its establishment and accomplishments the words of the Redeemer, and the declarations of the prophets who lived before and after him, are fulfilled. In justification of this declaration, permit me to make the following statement, briefly, because a subject of such tremendous im- portance can only be touched upon in one brief discourse.

Brief Story of the Founding of the Church

One hundred seven years ago, Joseph Smith, at the time in his fifteenth year, lived with his parents at Manchester, in the state of New York. While a great religious revival was being held in the neighborhood he found himself in doubt as to which of the contending sects he should join, for there was great rivalry among them in their efforts to secure converts.

Profoundly religious, he had never conceived the idea that all were wrong, neither could he believe that all were right, because of the great difference in doctrine and organization which existed. Familiar with the scriptures, he knew that the Lord had promised wisdom to all who lacked it, if they would! go to him in faith, and believing that the question which he was not able to decide would be answered by the Lord, he retired to the woods and engaged in earnest prayer.

While thus occupied a vision was unfolded in which he saw two glorious personages, whose brightness and glory, he says, defied all description. One of these personages, pointing to the other, said: "This is my beloved Son, hear him."

The Person referred to told Joseph that he should join none of the existing churches, that all were wrong, that they drew near him with their lips, but their hearts were removed far from him, and they taught for doctrine the commandments of men.

Nothing of importance occurred in the life of Joseph Smith, ex- cept that he was persecuted and ridiculed because he maintained that he had seen this vision, until three years later, when, while engaged in prayer in his bed room, Joseph says that a light began to appear, which increased in brilliancy untrl the room was brighter than at noon-day, when a personage appeared at his bedside, clothed in a robe ©f ex- quisite whiteness.

710 IMPROVEMENT ERA

This personage said that he was a messenger sent from the presence of God. and that his name was Moroni: that the Lord had a great work for Joseph to do, and that his name should be known for both good and evil among all nations, that among some it would be held in honor, and among others in reproach. He also told him that there was a book deposited, written upon gold plates, containing the history of the ancient inhabitants of this continent, and that it also con- tained the fulness of the everlasting gospel, as it was delivered by the Savior to them, and that there was also deposited the Urim and Thum- mim, by means of which characters engraven on the plates could be translated. This was the Book of Mormon, which was later delivered to Joseph Smith, translated by him and first published to the world in 1830.

While engaged in the work of translation, assisted by Oliver Cowdery, Joseph observed the importance which attached to the ordin- ance of baptism, and desiring greater light he and Oliver went to a secluded spot, on the bank of the Susquehanna River, and engaged in prayer. While thus occupied they bear witness that a messenger from heaven descended in a cloud of light, and laying his hands upon their heads said: "Upon you my fellow servants, in the name of Messiah. I confer the Priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the minister- ing of angels, and of the gospel of repentance, and of baptism by im- mersion for the remission of sins, and this shall never be taken again from the earth, until the sons of Levi do offer again an offering unto the Lord in righteousness."

This messenger told them that he was John the Baptist, that he acted under instruction from Petei, James and John. That the Aaronic Priesthood, which he had conferred had not the power to lay on hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost, but that the keys of the Melchizedek Priesthood would be later conferred upon them. This latter priest- hood was conferred upon Joseph and Oliver at a later date under the hands of Peter, James and John, who ordained them to the Apostleship, and committed to them the keys of the kingdom, and of the Gospel Dispensation of the Fulness of Times.

It is upon this authority that the Church assumes to speak and act in the name of the Lord.

The Church Not a Faction, But the Restored Church of Christ

The Church is not a protestant faction which has broken away from the mother church, or from any other religious body. It is the Church of Christ, our Lord, restored to earth as he and the prophets de- clared it should be, restored for the purpose of gathering the out- casts of Israel, that the way may be prepared for the coming of the Redeemer of the world, and the consummation of the purposes of the Lord, in so far as they pertain to the present generation of mankind, who occupy the small portion of the universe, which we call the world.

WHAT IS A CHRISTIAN? 711

We Do Not Believe It, Say Objectors

Yes, says the objector, if this story were true your authority would be sufficient, but we do not believe it. We do not believe that Joseph Smith, in vision, saw and communed with the Father and the Son. We do not believe that heavenly messengers visited him, nor that the keys of the Priesthood were conferred upon him by John the Baptist, nor by Peter, James and John. These men died more than a thousand years ago, and the dead do not return to visit the living. Visions and the visitation of angels have long since been done away with, there are no such things in the age in which we live, Joseph Smith was either a visionary dreamer, and these imaginings were the result of a disordered mind, or else he was a wilful impostor.

Neither did the people believe the words of the Redeemer of the world. They declared him to be an impostor, a disturber of the peace, that he was guilty of sedition, and was a blasphemer, because he de- clared himself to be the Son of God, and it was upon these and other similar charges that he was condemned to death upon the cross. The people did not believe that Moses and Elias appeared to Peter, James and John, at the time of the transfiguration of the Redeemer, they had long been dead, and could not return.

Nor did they believe Paul when he declared to King Agrippa and Festus, that as he journeyed toward Damascus, at noon day, a light brighter than the sun descended from heaven which caused him, and those who were with him to fall to earth; that a voice called to him declaring that it was Jesus of Nazareth who spoke, telling him to arise, and stand upon his feet, and said: "I have appeared unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a witness" to the people, especially to the Gentiles, "to open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of satan unto God." The Redeemer had been crucified, declared dead, and Festus, who could not understand how he could appear to anyone, cried out: "Paul, thou art beside thyself: much learning doth make thee mad." But Paul answered, "I am not mad, most noble Festus; but speak forth the words of truth and soberness."

We Bear Witness of the Restoration

So do we in soberness and truth bear witness to the people of the world today, to king and subject, to patrician and plebeian, to rich and poor, to Christian and heathen, that Joseph Smith was divinely called to be the instrument in the hands of the Lord in the restoration of the gospel of Christ; that the keys of the Priesthood were conferred upon him as has been stated, and have come down through his successors to the present. Another thing to which we bear witness is that all men may know the truth of the testimony which we bear by asking the Lord for it in faith. It is not by the words of men that you have

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been converted, my brethren and sisters, but by the gift of the Holy Ghost, which has borne witness of the truth of these things, and this great congregation of people would arise and testify to the truth of what I say if requested to do so.

What We Believe

We believe in the immaculate conception of the Virgin Mary, and that the Child born at Bethlehem of Judea was in very deed the Son of God, the Only Begotten of the Father in the flesh. That he is our advocate with the Father, the medium through which we .reach the throne of grace.

The foundation of the Church is laid in God the Eternal Father, his Son Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost, which constitute the God- head. No person can become a member of the Church until he has taken upon him the name of Christ, and entered into the covenant that he is willing to serve him, and keep the commandments which he has given, to the best of his ability. He must accept the ordinance of baptism, which is administered in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, in other words, he must accept Christ as the Redeemer of the world, without reservation.

The members of the Church meet together once each week and partake of the sacrament in remembrance of the body and blood of our Lord. Every ordinance of the Church, every act performed, is administered in the name of Christ.

But What About the Book of Mormon, Say Objectors

But, says the objector, you accept the Book of Mormon as a revelation from God, thus bringing a new Bible into use when there can be but one Bible, and this we cannot accept. Even if such a record were to be brought forth, would the Lord undertake to accomplish it through the medium of an unlearned young man, when we have many profound scholars among us?

Our reply to that objection is, he did choose Joseph Smith to accomplish it, and that should be sufficient answer. It is the same question asked regarding the Redeemer: "Is not this the carpenter's Son? Is not his mother called Mary?" and are not his brothers and sisters all with us? Whence hath this man all of these things?

Why do Christian people reject the Book of Mormon? It is the strongest corroborative evidence of the truth of the Bible, and the divine mission of the Redeemer that exists in the world; and should be welcomed by all Christian people. It is of special value to America, and particularly to the people of the United States. It is the Holy Scripture of the American continent, and it outlines the establishment and destiny of our nation, asserting that our government was established by inspira- tion from the God of the land, whom it declares is Jesus Christ, and warns us that if we turn from him, and cease longer to recognize and

WHAT IS A CHRISTIAN? 713

serve him, his protection will be withdrawn, and the great promises which he made in regard to our destiny will be of no effect.

All the "Mormons" Ask Is Permission to Believe As They Choose

The Latter-day Saints recognize and appreciate the great work ac- complished by the Christian churches of the world since the Reforma- tion, in breaking down kingcraft, and priestcraft, thus preparing the way for the establishment of free government, freedom of worship, and the coming of our Lord Jesus.

When brought before the Jewish high priests, Peter speaking for the Twelve declared that God had sent his Son to bring salvation to Israel. Hearing this truth they took council to slay them.

So it is with us today. The world says if you will renounce this fable regarding visions and heavenly visitations to Joseph Smith, we will accept you as Christian people. Like Peter and Paul we answer: This we can never do, because it is the truth, and the experiences of the past teach us that it is dangerous to ignore the truth.

All that we ask is to be permitted to believe as we choose, and we grant all men this privilege. We ask people of the world to rely upon the words1 of Gamaliel, which have been quoted, for they are as true today as they where when uttered. If this work is of men it will come to nought, but if it is of God you cannot overthrow it. Like the primitive church, being defamed we entreat, being ridiculed we revile not, being persecuted we patiently submit, knowing that error must eventually yield to truth, and that time is the friend of innocence. We submit our cause to the Lord, our God, to whom be glory and praise and honor, through Jesus Christ, his Son. Amen.

Tobacco

The tobacco companies are catering to women smokers, making ma- terials, as little gold pipes, amber holders, cork tips and perfumed cigarettes, beautiful tobacco pouches, embroidered and elegant cigarette cases of gold and silver, etc. These are advertized frequently by merchants in all towns. The tobacco companies give coupons and premiums and allure in every way possible the fancy of young girls and women to adopt the habit of smoking. Besides, they distribute cigarettes free. They learn the birthdays of boys and girls; send them packages and free birthday presents. They scatter hundreds of cigarettes on the lawns of schools for the children; any- thing to get them started. If a child starts, and gets the habit, any time before twenty-one, the devil Nicotine has them, and manufacturers have a life-time customer. This advertizing practice is pernicious. So far as Latter-day Saints go, all tobacco inducements should be counteracted by observance of the Word of Wisdom, and by willing obedience to the require- ments that are therein contained. Civil laws alone will not prevent the use of tobacco. The person must be educated against tobacco, and be filled with a desire to obey the Lord's law of health. — A.

ORATORY, POESY AND PROPHECY

By Orson F. Whitney IV

Oratory typifies Time. Poesy symbolizes Eternity. Tim^ passes. Eternity endures. The triumphs of oratory are the triumphs of Time, the victories of the present, the advantages of the passing moment. The orator charms with his presence, his voice, his manner, his magnetism, quite as much as with) his ideas, and even more. He hypnotizes or (to coin a word) Svengalizes his hearers, many of whom are in the position of poor Trilby, whose points of excellence were not in her head, but in her feet — where also lies the chief ex- cellence of some poems. Poetry that stands only upon its "feet" is weak poetry.

An ancient Greek orator prepared an oration to be delivered in court in behalf of a client whose cause needed much bolstering. "What think you of it?" he asked, his client having read the written speech. The latter replied: "When first I read it I thought it perfect; I did not see how it could be improved, nor how the judges could with- stand it. But I read it again and noted two or three weak points, which before had escaped my notice. I gave it a third reading, and then found it full of faults, and I now have very little hope of win- ning the case." "My friend," quoth the orator, "the judges will not read the speech; they will only hear it, and they will only hear it once."

The poet, absent from, cannot impress his* audience by personal qualities, by physical means. He conquers, if at all, by sheer force of intellectual and spiritual might. But his victories, if harder to win, are all the more glorious and enduring. "Of all writers, says Wash- ington Irving, "he has the best chance for immortality. Others may write from the head, but he writes from the heart, and the heart will always understand him."

It was a wise man who said: "Let me write the ballads of a people, and I care not who makes their laws." Luther's enemies charged that his hymns did more to convert the country to his doctrines than his preaching.

Apropos of this mention, and giving the subject a local setting, what know we of the oratory of such men as Parley P. Pratt and William W. Phelps? — the former the greatest "Mormon" preacher of his time, the latter also an able expounder of the gospel. Some of their sermons and prose writings remain, but they are seldom if ever referred to now. Only the generation that heard those men, and which has almost passed away, can tell us aught of their abilities as orators. It is in their poetry that they live — in the songs composed

ORATORY. POESY AND PROPHECY 715

by them and sung by the Saints at the evening fireside or in general assemblies where they meet to worship God.

William Clayton and Charles W. Penrose are also notable ex- amples in this connection. Both were excellent speakers and writers, especially the latter — the readiest tongue and pen in the Church — and both were prominent in the public affairs of the community. They will be long remembered, of course, for their prominence and their usefulness. History has recorded their names and incidents con- nected therewith; and their sermons and writings are preserved in the archives of the Church.

But there will come a time and a generation that may have no occasion to consult those archives, and that will not be under the spell of those speakers. The future will know them best by the hymns that they wrote, those sacred songs that neverj grow old. are never out of date, and are not consigned to musty archives; songs that are sung Sabbath after Sabbath, thrilling and comforting the hearts of thousands, and destined to go on thrilling and comforting thousands upon thou- sands, perhaps millions, down to the End of Time.

Such songs as "The Morning Breaks," "An Angel from on High," "The Spirit of God Like a Fire is Burning," "O Say What is Truth," "Come, Come ye Saints," "O My Father," "Praise to the Man," "O Ye Mountains High," and many others equally worthy — what can compare with them in power and influence for good? Nothing short of divine revelation, or some striking utterance from the lips of High Authority. No other prose production can hope to outlive them, or even equal them in longevity.

The great orations of antiquity are valuable, in that they pre- serve to us the form of those masterpieces, andj in part the historical happenings that called them forth. But great poems, wherever and whenever produced, speak to the heart and influence the conduct of mankind. Their authors are indeed "the dead but sceptered sovereigns who yet rule our spirits from their urns."

I repeat: The triumphs of oratory are the triumphs of Time, the victories of the present, the advantages of the passing moment. The poet cannot expect such speedy results — unless he be a commercial "poet," advertising a new brand of pickles; or a political "poet," dashing off doggerel for the next campaign. Some "poets" get "a heap- o'-livin' " out of "poetry;" others get almost none.

Byron awoke one morning to find himself famous; but that is not a frequent happening with poets. Wordsworth awoke many a morning to find himself still unknown and unappreciated. He waited a long while for the world's tardy recognition of his sublime poetic gift. The manuscript of Milton's immortal masterpiece sold for a song, and the mighty epic was thought little of during its author's lifetime. Shakespeare's genius was not fully recognized until twc

716 IMPROVEMENT ERA

centuries after his death; and even then it was a foreign nation — Germany — that discovered him.

"Seven cities claimed the birth of Homer dead. Through which the living Homer begged for bread."

And yet, are not these the men who really live, and cause others to live who, but for them, would be forgotten, buried in oblivion? When poets were the only historians, where there was no poet, men's names perished from the earth.

"Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride! They had no poet, and they died. In vain they schemed, in vain they bled! They had no poet and are dead."

Paraphasing Pope's line, might we not say of some verse makers, They were not poets, and are dead? If poets die — if their names and poems perish, it is because they were not poetic enough to live. If they survive, it is because of the poetry in which their memories are imperishably embalmed.

See to it, my orator, that what you utter is poetry. See that you think musically and speak harmoniously; that what you think and say is in tune with the divine melody of truth and love, ever pleading with the great heart of humanity, prompting and drawing it unto higher and holier ends. Utter things worthy to be remembered long after the shouts of the shallow multitudes that flattered you with their empty plaudits, are lost in oblivion. Be a poet as well as an orator. It is your surest passport to perpetual fame.

Our Martyrs

Every town and city has them, Many families, too, I find — Men and women, worn and broken Both in body and in mind. Carrying other people's burdens, Worrying over other's woes. Hurt by unjust criticism; What they suffer no one knows.

Oh, that all would do their duty, And that each would bear his share; None would then be overloaded, None be burdened down with care. But be patient, O ye weary, Struggle on, nor cease to pray. If you carry other's burdens, You will surely draw the pay. Shelley, Idaho. JOSEPH H. DEAN.

IS REASON SUFFICIENT?

By Elder James E. Talmage, President of the British and European Missions

The incident of Peter's inspired and fervent declaration — that Jesus of Nazareth was in solemn truth "the Christ, the Son of the living God" — finds frequent place in sermon, song, or printed dis- course. All the better that we know the circumstances well; we should thereby be the better able to comprehend the lesson now to be considered. Let us remember that our Lord first asked the Twelve as to what were the common rumors concerning his identity; and that then, with deep solemnity, and as a soul-searching test for which the Twelve had been in unconscious preparation through many months of close and privileged companions.1 ip with the Lord, he asked of them in summoning forcefulness: "But whom say ye that I am?" Then, an- swering for all, but more particularly testifying as to his personal conviction, Peter voiced the great confession: "Thou are the Christ, the Son of the living God."

This was no avowal of mere beiief, no announcement of a result at which the man had arrived by mental process; no solution of a problem laboriously worked out; no verdict based on the weighing of evidence. Peter spoke in the sure knowledge that knows no question, and from which all doubt and reservation are as far removed as is the sky from the earth.

There are problems, vital problems, pertaining to human ex- istence and destiny, for the solution of which the mind of man is confessedly inadequate. And of these seemingly insoluble difficulties many are solved in the heart, while the mind remains impotent. Who dares aver that he believes nothing, accepts nothing as real and true, save only what he can demonstrate by his mental powers? Where is the chemist who can explain, even to his own satisfaction, the subtle transmutation of the acid juice in an immature peach into the nectar of the ripened fruit? Who can tell how the sun's warm kiss can bring out from the dull unripe skin the rainbow hues of the fruit in perfection?

Physiologists know but little of the way by which the well masti- cated food is converted into chyme within the stomach, and this into chyle in the further recesses of the alimentary tract; they tell us that the prepared chyle is taken up by myriads of absorbing lacteals, and by them poured into the pulsing blood-current, and that from this red river of life each tissue of the body selects, with nicest and unfailing discrimination, the particular aliment required for its own maintenance. Yet who has learned how the latent energy of the food so assimilated is liberated and made potent — manifested perchance in the driving hammer-stroke, in the strong hand on the plow, in the swing of the

718 IMPROVEMENT ERA

scythe, in the brain-force of the mathematician, the mechanic, the statesman, in the inspired thoughts of the poet, or in voicing the revealed truths given of God through the prophets?

We make reason unreasonable when we say, we will have to do with nothing that reason can not circumscribe and demonstrate. Notwithstanding it be by his mental attributes that man is chiefly distinguished from the animal, mind and reason should know their own limitations. They are far from comprising all that is .

If the Atonement by Jesus Christ were available only to those who, by their own powers, can reason out its full purpose, operation and extent, not a soul would be saved thereby. The intellect is to be exercised to the full in the study of the things of God; but beyond all possible assurances that the mind can give is the convincing, convicting, soul-satisfying wisdom that comes as a gift from heaven to the humble, contrite seeker after truth. Mind may be cultivated at the expense of soul.

The student for whom there is least hope is he who believes that he already knows all that he is sent to learn. Contrition, humility, willingness to receive, these are primal conditions requisite to the divine gift of a testimony of the gospel. Men's knowledge must go the way of their wealth — both secondary to the saving wisdom that God alone can impart.

The learned Apostle, Paul, drew a forceful distinction between the mind's knowledge and the soul's wisdom, thus:

"And I, brethren, when I came to you, came not with excellency of speech or of wisdom, declaring unto you the testimony of God.

"For I determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified.

"And I was with you in weakness, and in fear, and in trembling.

"And my speech and my preaching was not with enticing words of man's wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power:

"That your faith should not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God." — 1 Cor. 2:1-5.

The ancient prophet Jacob bewailed and denounced the en- throning of mind above heart, of human precept as superior to divine command:

"When they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves, wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness, and it profiteth them not. And they shall perish." — Book of Mormon, 2 Nephi, 9:28.

The experience of past ignorance prompts one to be careful, prudent and thoughtful before undertaking to proclaim that human leason is ample to cope with the great problems of existence. Well directed exercise of the human mind may give man knowledge; but to insure to its possessor wisdom, the mind must cooperate with that faculty or attribute, which, because of our certain knowledge of its existence coupled with our ignorance of its operation, we call the heart.

Youth

"Rejoice, O young man in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth: and walk in the ways of thy heart, and in the sight of thine eyes; but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment." — Ecdes. 11:9.

Rejoice! rejoice! for you are young and strong

And life is beautiful as flowers in May.

It seems to you that you will linger long,

To quaff the pleasures of the perfect day.

The lures of life are calling you away

From cares that foster sorrow and distress.

The laughing loves desire to romp and play,

And soft, white arms will tenderly caress

And cheer you with the charms that captivate and bless.

Thy heart has cherished many fond desires. Now walk in all the ways that they suggest. Let passion flame your heart with fiercer fires, For you are young and youth must have the best. When pleasure calls you, she will be a guest That lingers longer in the sylvan glade, The bluebird happiness will build her nest In leafy branches of the forest shade — Enjoy the goods of life that Providence has made.

And walk today in visions of thine eyes, Not in the shadows that are dark and drear, When beauty beckons, will you fail to prize The sense of sight that makes her presence dear? Seek perfect love, for she will conquer fear, And boldly follow when admiring sight Reveals attractions that are far and near. Advance towards the golden gates of light, For that which seemeth good is beautiful and bright.

Rejoice, O young man, in thy days of youth, And let thy heart cheer thee in golden days! And let thine eyes be torches of the truth, That you might win the Hebrew Prophet's praise. Thy heart's desires, that which attracts the gaze Of admiration, are to be thy guide. If they shall lure thee into pleasant ways, Along the highway that is smooth and wide, Be happy as the birds, for Beauty is thy bride.

But know thou God will bring thee into judgment For alt you think and feel and say and do, And Nature, too, will soon disclose the content, To find if you are ringing false or true. When fields are green and skies are clear and blue And youth has been exalted to a throne, The old is changed again into the new, And ruthless Justice comes to claim his own, For whirlwinds must be reaped, if tempests have been sown. Provo, Utah. ALFRED OSMOND

CHIEF ROBINSON'S DREAM

By Wreno Bowers

This is a true story of an Indian Chief. Sam Robinson, and his daughter, Jennie Robinson. The story was told to me one day by my uncle, William Gines, who for eighteen years lived among the Indians and became a mutual friend of Chief Robinson. The story was not only very interesting, but it taught me many of the Indian's customs, their ways of living, their superstitions and beliefs. So I have written it down for you, friend readers, in the same way that it was told to me as nearly as I could remember it.

It was a rainy afternoon in early August. A heavy rain poured down from a leaden sky and the wind drove it in sheets along the ground. The hills, trees and meadows were drenching wet and the water stood in pools and puddles along the roadside and in the barn- yard. Every few moments a flash of lightning came and a deep peal of thunder went rolling down the heavens and lost itself in the distance.

I was sitting by the window watching the storm and wondering if my cattle would break the pasture fence and do damage to my neighbor's grain-field in an attempt to reach shelter. My pasture was located by the river a quarter of a mile down the valley. On the opposite side of the river, in an adjoining field, Chief Sam Robinson and his band of Indians were camped.

Presently the rain ceased and I mounted my saddle-horse and galloped down to the pasture. I found the cattle in good keeping and was riding along inspecting the fence when a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the trees that grew along the river's bank. Then I felt the spattering of a few big raindrops that fell upon my hat and shoulders. Spurring my horse to a gallop I started back toward the house. Then a sudden flash, followed by a furious blast, keen and sharp, sang through the trees. When the thunder rolled away and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance the cries of Indians came to my ears. Reining my horse toward the Indian camp I spurred him to a quick run. We had to swim the river in order to reach the camp, but the horse was a good swimmer and only checked himself to a gallop before plunging into the water. We were only half way across when Chief Robinson appeared on the opposite shore.

"It's Jennie — my Jennie!" he cried.

Directly the horse reached the bank and I dismounted. The Chief led me toward a tent, sitting under a large cottonwood tree, some dis- tance from where the other Indians had assembled and were talking in their own language.

CHIEF ROBINSON'S DREAM 721

"Jennie — in there — dead," said the Chief, pointing toward the tent.

Jennie, who had just passed her eighteenth birthday, had been sitting in her tent when the lightning struck the big tree right over her head and killed her almost instantly. But neither Chief Robinson nor any of the other Indians would go into the tent. They are very superstitious and for no consideration whatever will they enter a tent where a dead Indian is lying. If the body is left for them to remove they will pull the tent down and shake the corpse out.

I went to the tent and raised the flap while the Chief stood at a distance and looked on. The girl was lying on her bed as natural as if sleeping. (The bed consisted of three bright-colored blankets spread upon the ground.) I rolled her up in the blankets and pegged the tent down to prevent the coyotes and wild cats from getting at the body. Then the Indians moved their camp a few miles up the river, leaving the girl alone.

It continued to rain the remainder of the evening and far into the night. But when the dawn came the storm was gone. A few gray clouds floated lazily across the sky, but the sun shone bright and warm. A little after sun up the. Chief came to my house. For a long time he would not talk; just sat on his horse with his head drooped. Then, finally, he spoke: "I like my girl buried like white girl," he said. "What you think?"

"Alright, Sam," I told him, "I'll make all arrangements."

The Indian grunted, which meant, "Alright," and rode away.

Now the regular custom of Indian burial is very different from that of the white people. To| get a clear conception of the Indian's funeral ceremonies we should know something about their belief on eternal life. Without reasoning or arguing or even thinking about it, the Indian accepts personal survival after death as a fact as simply obvious as the fact of life itself. When he d,ies he goes, or rather his spirit goes, to The Happy Hunting Ground — the Indian's Paradise. He knows it as well as any person can know anything. That is why they kill his best horse to go with him, and put his weapons and some food and blankets in his grave for him. These are to supply his needs until he reaches his friends in The Happy Hunting Grounds.

They always dig their graves beneath a large cedar or other tree; never in the open. The tree affords shelter for the grave and is used in the killing of the dead Indian's horse. No coffin is used; the body is wrapped in blankets and placed in the grave which is usually four or five feet deep. Then the Indian's saddle, weapons, some fish or venison and usually a bag of Indian corn isi placed beside the body. The grave is then covered with cedar1 poles placed compactly together and the cracks stuffed with cedar bark. No dirt is used in covering the grave. Then the horse that is to go to his master in The Happy

722 IMPROVEMENT ERA

Hunting Grounds is led to the grave. One end of a long rope is tied about his neck and a slip-knot placed around his jaws, just above th-i nostrils. The other end is run through the forks of a high branch in the cedar and tied to the saddle horn of another horse. This leaves forty or fifty feet of slack rope between the two horses'. When all is ready the saddle horse is put to a quick run and when the rope suddenly becomes tight the deceased Indian's horse is» jerked from his feet and his neck broken. This is done to prevent the horse from bleeding. If any method of killing were used that would cause a loss of blood, the Indians believe that the horse would be weak and worthless in The Happy Hunting Grounds.

But Chief Robinson had decided to abandon the old Indian custom and have his daughter buried like a white woman. A rough coffin was made for her and a grave dug in the cemetery. After she had been taken from her tent and laid in her coffin the Indians kindled a big fire beneath the tree where she had been killed. Then her clothes, blankets, beads, everything that belonged to her, except her horse, was brought to the fire. One piece after another was cast into the flames and destroyed. She had all kinds of beautiful bead work, blankets, robes and moccasins. The last to come were three little kittens — Jennie's favorite pets. One by one the Chief threw them into the fire. A sharp cry of pain as they entered the crackling blaze and that was all! Nothing escaped the fire except her horse, which the Chief kept for himself.

So Jennie was buried in a coffin, in the cemetery, under six feet of dirt. A profusion of flowers were strewn upon her grave and the Chief looked on and smiled.

After the funeral everything went along as usual for about a week, then one day the Chief came to me. His face was sad and I could see that he was worried.

"What's the matter, Sam?" I asked him.

For a moment he sat upon his horse, motionless, his head drooped. Then he spoke: "Las' night," he said, "I have dream. I see my Jennie. She long, long wav behind. She sit on big rock — she tired — ■ her feet bleed — she cry. I go to her. She say to me, 'Pa, you stole my horse'."

The old man's head was still drooped and a tear rolled down his dusky cheek.

"What I do?" he asked, presently.

"Give Jennie her horse," I told him.

And the following morning three poles were raised over Jennie's grave and her horse was killed — the same way that all deceased Indian's horses are killed — and sent to her in The Happy Hunting Grounds. Again Chief Robinson looked on the scene and smiled: "My Jennie — she don' have walk any more — she got her horse now." Park City, Utah.

ICELANDERS IN UTAH

By E. H. Johnson

A Contribution to the History of the Icelandic Pioneers of the West (From the Icelandic by J. M. Sjodahl)

\ Translator's Note: It is seventy years, this year, since the first Icelanders, Samuel Bjarnason, his wife Margret Gisladottir, and another lady, Helga, who later was married to Thord Didriksson, came as immigrants to Utah. It is. therefore, thought timely to recall that incident of the history of our Church and State, and an effort has been made to tell the story as nearly as can be done in a translation, in the words of an Icelandic chronicler, himself.

To the entire world of letters, and particularly to the Anglo-Saxon and Teutonic-Scandinavian families of nations, Iceland is one of the most in- teresting spots on the earth. The island was settled by liberty-loving men and women, who took up their victorious battle for independence at a time when darkness covered the earth. There poets and writers were born. There scholars, explorers and colonists saw the light of day. To these Icelanders the world owes a great deal of its knowledge concerning the history of Europe, and many languages, including the English, are, as it were, constructed upon the old Icelandic as upon one of the main foundation stones.

The Icelanders in Utah have been doing fairly well. They are few, but good citizens, and their children are coming to the front in educational and other activities of the State. — J. M. S.]

Settlement stories often begin by the writer first exhibiting the habits of the country where the story originates. This is especially necessary when the question is of settlement in deserts where nobody has taken up his homestead before the story begins .

The sagas or little stories, which here follow, are somewhat of an exception, for it is not a fact that Utah was without settlers every- where even before the first Icelanders came here. Utah was. as is known, scantily settled, that is to say by white men, for it was in the year 1847 that companies of white men, under the leadership of Brigham Young, came and established themselves. Utah was already then inhabited by Indians, and they considered the land their property and they opposed colonization by those white men ("pale faces," as they called them), and were, till about 1860, very* warlike in their strongholds. But* now it is over sixty years since Utah was first settled, and the report is known among all people, and thus I need not for the sake of those who read this almanak repeat the story in these chapters.

The Icelandic story begins in, the early years of the Territory of Utah, and that is why it sometimes goes into the realm of sagas, and particularly so regarding their deeds in the conflicts with Indians and

*The 'Almanak" in which the article appeared wis published in 1915.

724 IMPROVEMENT ERA

in the part they took, in breaking up and making a beautiful and flourishing country out of a desert.

The beginning of our story here is, then, that about the year 1850. T1851] there were two Icelanders in Copenhagen, to learn a trade. Their names- were Thorarinn Haflidason and Gudmund Gud- mundson. Both had their home in the Vestmannaey, and were, in all probability, born there, or in the Landey. Which is the more correct, I do not know, but it is sure that they were in Copenhagen about this time and received there that faith which is called "Mormonism," and for which Utah now-a-days is most famous. Nor do I know how long these men remained in Copenhagen, but Magnus Bjarnason (who is mentioned hereafter) mentions them in his biography and says that it was about this time, and that Thorarinn was the first Icelander to accept the Mormon -faith, wherefore he is correctly called the father of those among the Icelanders1 who have that faith. This happened, Magnus, says, in the year 1851. Gudmund Gudmundson, a gold- smith, and Thorarinn's companion, who afterwards moved to Utah, was the next one, and they made themselves ready to go home to their native place, and there they offered the new faith to their friends and relatives in the island. This, at first, was uphill work, but by and by there was a change and the countrymen began to move to Utah.

Two or three prominent men on the island at once accepted this faith, and from this flock came the men who were the first Icelanders to move to Utah.

Thorarinn, who has been mentioned previously, was drowned near the Vestmannaey in 1852, and is, therefore out of the story. But Gudmund, his companion, continued preaching the gospel to- gether with a Danishman, who came to the island about this time and remained there for a while.

It was in the yea;r 1855 that the first Icelanders emigrated to Utah. He who arranged for the journey was Samuel [Bjarnason] who had his last home in Kirkjubae i the Vestmannaey. His father was Bjarni Jonsson who for some time was a farmer in Kviholum, near Eyjafjoellum. But the wife of Samuel was Margret Gisladottir, (daughter) of a farmer in Gordum in the Vestmannaey. the son of Andresson i Graenuborg i Fljotshlid. Samuel, Margret, his wife, and another lady, whose name was Helga, and who later became the wife of Thord Didriksson, were the first Icelanders, who came to Utah. That was in the spring of 1856. Samuel took up land, 160 acres, or even more, and had here their home for thirty-four years. He died in 1 890; but his widow is still alive, and is now 88 years of age.*

The same year, or 1856. Thord Didriksson came out and settled in Spanish Fork. Thord was the brother of Arne in Stak- kargerdi, Vestmannaey, whom many know, but son of Didrik, a farmer

*The "Almanak" was published in 1915.

ICELANDERS IN UTAH 725

in Holmin in Eastern Landey; his ancestors being Jonsson from Oenun- darstoed, Didriksson in Midey, Bjarnason in Oenundarstoed, Gislason in Skumstoed, Bardarson, a lawyer in Vatnsdal, Didriksson, Thor- steinsson, Jonsson, a priest who was slain by Turks in the Vestmannaey in 1627; Eiriksson, a pastor in Skalholt in 1520, then in Gilsbakka in 1527, and lastly in Reykholt in 1547-1563; Jonsson.*

The wife of Thord was Helga, she who is mentioned here before, daughter of Jons Halfdanarson, farmer i Klasbarda in the Ut-Landey in Rangarvallasyslu.

Thord took up land and had a good home for nearly forty years. He was clever, and a poet of the better kind, likewise a good worker, very attractive in appearance and beloved as long as he lived. This couple has now both been dead for some years.

This same year, Gudmund Gudmundson, the goldsmith, probably arrived in Utah. He settled in a, town that is called Lehi, and there he resided as long as he lived. He had a Danish wife, and they had three sons, who, however, had little or nothing in common with the Icelanders.

In the year 1857, Loftur Jonsson came here. The father of Jon was Arnason, born on the Landey. Loft took up land here, and was considered one of the best farmers as long as he lived. His first wife was Gudrun Halldorsdottir, the widow of Jon Oddsson, a farmer in Thorlangargerdi in the Vestmannaey, who was drowned near the islands about the year 1834. Gudrun was born at Skeidun. His last wife was Haldora, daughter of Arna, a farmer in Undirhrauni in Medal- land, son of Arngrim in Hrounbae in Alftaveri, son of Arnsson, manager of a poor-district, (hreppstjora) Botnum, in Medelland. Loft was a most honorable man. and the best workman in both wood and iron. He died of an accident in Spanish Fork, in 1874.

The same year, Jon Jonsson, (son of) Oddsson from Thor- langargerdi in the Vestmannaey, came here. He was a stepson of Loft and therefore accompanied him. Jon took up land here and has since lived here and done well, so far. His wife was Anna Gudlaugs- dottir, from Ketilstoedum in Myrdal, son of Eyjolf in Mortungu, son of Thorarin in Seljaland, east of Sidu. Jon and Anna are yet alive, he 77 and she 75 years of age.

Further, in company with Loft was Magnus Bjarnason, born August 3, 1815, and dead in 1904, 89 years of age. He was a son of "Prestmaga Bjarna," who got that name because, in his younger days he had children with two daughters of clergymen. This was before he married the mother of Magnus. The wife of Magnus was Thurid, daughter of Magnus, a farmer in Brekku, in the Landey She died Feb. 1, 1891. Magnus took up land, and his dwelling was

**Genealogy of Thord Didriksson, after B. Gudmundsson i Sudurnes- jum, written 18 76. — E H. J.

726 IMPROVEMENT ERA

planned on a small scale. He was a most honest and honorable man.

With Loft came also Vigdis Bjarnsdottir, daughter of Bjarna, farmer in Landi, son of Gislarson, born in the Landey. This Vidgis did not come to Spanish Fork before 1859. She was married in 1860 to a widower, whose name wa9 Holt, and lived with him in prosperity for thirty years. She has* been, and is yet, when this is being written, keeping house here in the city, although she is now 87 years of age and has been a widow for twenty-two years. I have her here in the pioneer story, first because she came here with the first, and secondly because she has been among us, as the wife of Unnar the Deepey or Oloef the Rich, that is to say, a most excellent and honor- able lady. She was the midwife in the city and vicinity for many years, and was successful. She also practiced as a doctor and healed many, particularly when people in these parts lived by stock-raising, and doctors were not as plentiful as they are now. Mrs. Holt is now (1911) very weak, having lost her eyesight and hearing, and is there- fore very decrepit.

Now I have enumerated all those who came here before 1860, and therefore may properly be called pioneers, and thus this part of our story ends.

FLOWERS AND EULOGIES

By H. M. Monson

Flowers and eulogies! I did not have the pleasure of his ac- quaintance in life, but what I see and hear leave no room for doubting his worthiness. His integrity was monumental. The honesty and high purpose of his life were unquestionable. No stain of dishonor — no fault! This final page of his book of life shows no sign of anything but a perfect record throughout.

Was it a perfect life that; has just come to so glorious a dose? Had he no fault — no failing? Ah, yes, for else he were not human. But why remember his faults now? Aye, why have they ever been remembered.

Was he loved and honored and eulogized in life as he fa now in death? Did the perfume of flowers make life's incense sweet? How grand and beautiful if this were true! The approval of friends must have given him courage to live through the world's bitter strife. His senses must have brought sweet messages of love to his soul, excluding the ugly and odious. Alas, that those senses cannot now receive the wealth of sweetness and love that is here offered! But it is too late. Flowers and eulogies are wasted now, for his record of life is done.

He had his faults as we all have our faults. No doubt they oppressed him and caused him deep sorrow. He struggled against the evil influences of the world, but who knew of that struggle or of its

FLOWERS AND EULOGIES 72 7

•extent? Did anyone come to him with encouragement and comforting words then? Was the stench of evil driven from his nostrils by the sweet fragrance of the flowers of love? Or did he who saw the fault add force to its crushing power by bitter criticism and condemnation? O the tragedy of the struggling soul! Who can know its secret? The time for flowers and eulogies is while man lives. They are wasted when he is dead.

How eager to do the last touch of kindness now! We handle the cold, lifeless and unfeeling clay reverently and tenderly, scarcely breathing or moving a muscle that would offend if that clay were alive — not leaving the slightest act undone that would add to the comfort of the departed one. Was it always so in life? Were his wishes and comforts so tenderly considered then? The sting of unkind words and of disobedient acts could be felt then. The sweetest tenderness is useless now.

Some would say that, being a man, he should be brave in attack- ing life's problems — that he should learn to stand alone — to live without sympathy. Yes, that is the way we usually look at it. And men go on, too proud and too brave to complain under the galling and "hardening influence of a cold and unappreciative world. We have con- demned man for his hardness and it is we that have made him hard.

The few poor virtues which we remember so tenderly now, exalt liim to a throne. But who knows of his struggles that have failed? If he is entitled to a crown, it is because he has borne his cross alone, too often made heavier by the condemnation of those to whom he looked for consolation. He is no more worthy of our tenderness and love when life is done than he was when its burdens were crushing him to the earth. It would have helped him then. It is wasted now.

Ogden, Utah.

June Time

June time, and joy time, and sights of myriad bloom! June time, and free time, and breaths of rare perfume! Sky calls, and mate calls, and hearts a' thrill with bliss! Of universe above, below, I ask no more than this.

June time, and soul time, and days a'throb with life!

June time, and love time, no place for care or strife.

Blue skies, and heart balm, and laden all the air

With gentle sounds of whispering things — their music sweetly rare

June time, and prayer time, with full hearts running o'er.

June time, and dream time, what could I wish for more?

Sunshine, and bird song, and life a' pulse with rhythm!

My trysting place, or here, or there, a gloried bit o'heaven.

Tridell, Utah MRS. ALICE MORRILL

GATHERING FEATHERS

By Samuel Fletcher

Being a stranger in that city, and being interested in people, I went to the central park to see the sights. In such a place one may sit by the hour and watch the sights walk by. (This statement is by no means original, but why worry about that?)

I seated myself on a bench under a beautiful white birch that was just bursting into leaf, and looked about me. I am not deeply romantic, but, somehow, in the early springtime things appear much better than they really are. The grass looks fresher and greener than at other times; the sky looksi bluer; the breezes feel more caressing; laughter sounds merrier; men, out of work, less despondent. I thought to myself, if ever I write a tragedy I shall have the events take place at some other season than in the spring of the year.

"Jack, my boy," said a voice at my side. I turned about with a start. A well-dressed old man was gazing down at me. His hair was like the white fog that clings to the side of a mountain. His face was wrinkled and worn and worried.

"Jack, my boy," he repeated, "give me some more feathers."

"Why," I stupidly replied, "I have no feathers. Besides, my name isn't Jack. You've made a misi — ."

"Jack," he interrupted, putting his hand gently on my shoulder, "you and your sister should help your mother to gather feathers. My boy, save your feathers; save your feathers!"

His hand clasped tightly on my collar. Somewhat bewildered, I tried to think of something to do or say, for it dawned upon me that this old man was mentally sick. I glanced sidewise to see how far away was my nearest help. I must confess that it was with a feeling of relief that I noticed a man hurrying to my assistance.

"For shame, Mr. Wills," said the man. "You promised not to go away."

The old man dropped his hand from my shoulder and walked slowly away, shaking his head. The younger man turned to me.

"I hope he didn't annoy you," he said, "but Mr. Wills is generally well-behaved, so we often let him walk about the grounds of the Sanitarium. The Sanitarium, you may know, is only a couple of blocks from here. We apologize for not keeping a closer watch."

"Not at all," I replied, "I'm glad to have met Mr. Wills — have met, understand. Do you know, the poor old fellow mistook me for his son, Jack."

"Yes, he often mistakes strangers that way, especially if they happen to be young. You're a stranger, I take it?"

I admitted that I was.

GATHERING FEATHERS 729

"This boy, Jack," he went on, "ran away to sea. It seems strange that the old man should think so much about him now. He never seemed to take much interest in the boy before he left. Nor the girl either, for that matter. He had a daughter, too, you may know. She went away about the same time as her brother. Found work somewhere, I think.

"The trouble with Mr. Wills was that he didn't have time for anything but making money. I hardly think he had a friend except the cold dollar. His wife grew to be like that, too, they say. The children grew up to make money but never to spend it. Not that I believe in loose spending; but kids need homes, and it takes a lot of love in a house to make it a home.

"Well, after the youngsters were gone, Mrs. Wills didn't last long. You wouldn't have thought it, but, somehow, it just took the life right out of her. The day after she was laid away, we found Mr. Wills here in the park, looking for his son, Jack.

"When he was taken into court and officers were sent to search his house, what do you think they found? Over forty thousand dollars hidden away!"

I thanked him for telling me that unusual story.

"Just one thing further, I would like explained," I added. "Why did he beg me for feathers?"

"As near as I can tell it's like; this: Mr. Wills had a favorite saying. Whenever anyone would approach him and ask for anything for the poor, or for a donation for a church, or for any other chari- table purpose, he would always answer, 'Sorry, but I can't afford it. I must feather my own nest first'."

Preston, Idaho.

Recipe for a Wedding Cake

By Mrs. Grace Wharton Montaigne

Take two heaping measures of love and mix together in a common purpose: sweeten with two full hearts: sprinkle in a few little ones accord- ing to taste; for a rich ruddy color, break in the yolks of two purses, but do not make too rich, as by doing so it crumbs and separates too easily; do not season with fragrance of cloves.

Stir the batter thoroughly until it is even all through. It should be stiff enough to withstand the slaps of poverty, and dents left by sorrow should slowly close.

Place before a genial hearth to rise: bake in a moderate oven of even warmth, avoiding all excess of heat. Do not use icing or frosting.

Serve in the home on all occasions. Avoid serving with tongue or cold shoulder.

The quantities given are sufficient for one household. Delta, Utah.

"WHAT SHALL A MAN GIVE IN EXCHANGE FOR HIS SOUL?"

By A. C. Lambert

The ultimate fact of my existence i9 that I do exist; I am alive. Descartes, the philosopher, attempted to discover the reality of life by a process of elimination. After deciding that all was possibly unreal that could be doubted, he came finally to this point, "I cannot doubt that I doubt; therefore, I am." On this ultimate fact of existence one may take a bearing that will help to determine the meaning of life and of the struggle to preserve life. The fact of my own existence and of the innate desirability of living, is the fact which I can not escape as I seek to know the value of my soul. If self and self- existence is not, I am not, and for me nothing is.

Now Jesus taught the reality and the validity of the individual self or person, and the aim of the religious life, as he gave it, is to conserve the individual soul and its highest values. Truly, the worth of souls is great in his sight. "There were ninety and nine that safely lay in the shelter of the fold," but it was for the one, even the weakest one of them all, for which the Shepherd was most anxious.

Religion affirms the soul, the thinking self. Science does not disprove it. For how can science disprove that by which it makes its proof? By reason of the self alone does science come into existence. Without the basic knowing, appreciating, free-acting self there is no meaning in existence. The teachings of Jesus center in the ultimate reality and value of the individual soul.

How may one measure the value of his soul? And how shall he make sure that he shall preserve his soul and not lose it?

The ultimate source of values is this fact of life, and the final measure of living is the achievement of values. One is the measure of the other. No values exist apart from life, and only life makes values. The final ground of values is within the self.

Now the desire for life may have come from God, but that does not by the least measure lessen the importance of the desire for life as the final measure of truth and value. Values are cast finally in terms of what human life fundamentally demands. If one prefers to relate the standard to the will of God, the statement then is that the ultimate justification of values is an analysis of what God has found to be fundamentally demanded by human life for its completion and happi- ness. The one primary reason that we find for living is the fact that we find life desirable, or that it is a necessary condition to a future life which is in turn desirable.

"Skin for skin, yea, all that a man hath will he give for his life,"

WHAT SHALL A MAN GIVE? 731

even though spoken by the adversary states a truth. Do you say that there are some things dearer and more precious than life? What is it that makes them more precious? If it is, then, that you sacrifice life itself, it is ultimately that the sacrifice is to bring you fuller life here- after, or it is that others may continue in life, or experience a fuller life. The measuring stick finally is life.

What then can be the real meaning of my living and what can be the real means by which I can preserve this most precious thing called life and its fulness? The conditions are made manifest by the very conditions of actual present living.

I find myself in a world in which the existence of other persons is one of my most important facts. Next to the fact of my own existence I can not escape this other fact. Other persons do exist, and what is of more importance, / must live with them. I live fully only because of them. I find most of my own life in the responses that I make to the infinite aspects of the lives of others. As a con- sequence the measure of the fulness of my own life is the total fulness of the lives of all other persons with whom I come in contact. I need the fulness of other lives in order to have fulness for my own life.

Jesus gave the key to fulness of life and the salvation of the individual soul in fourteen recorded words, "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." Jesus revealed the nature of God when he said, "I am come that ye might have life, and that ye might have it more abundantly." Jesus revealed the means to this fulness by his life.

Jesus taught that the true soul, the true self, the full life of the individual is preserved and realized only in so far as the individual recognizes that he is dependent for fulness of his own life upon the full life of his brother, and shapes his conduct accordingly. Only as my brother's life increases in fulness is there provided a means for the attainment of fulness of my own life. My ultimate interest, therefore, lies in the preservation and enrichment of my brother's life just as truly as it does in the attempted preservation of my own life, knowing as we do that life always means more than mere physical organic activity. "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thy self," is a statement not only profound but prophetic in its meaning.

How is this related to the basic human want of preserving the life of the soul? The relation and the meaning are found in the fact of the ultimate social nature of human living. It has an application in the satisfying of all our wants. It would seem that in our anxiety to preserve life, to save our "souls," we are pitifully shortsighted, or we are ridiculously ostrich-like in refusing to see the means of soul- preservation within our present grasp. Perhaps it is that we childishly forget that to achieve life's greatest values, we must often deny ourselves its gaudiest.

732 IMPROVEMENT ERA

Our daily activity would indicate that we hope to find our treasure by following the rainbows of living. The present is ever so near and so obvious, the material is so tangible to sense, that we fear to forsake the immediate "here" and "now" because of the great fear that in so doing we shall not find other things in their stead. The flesh urges. Its gratifications are immediate. We eat unto death; we drink unto damnation. We are clothed in exceeding great glory; our vanity is like unto a high mountain. We fight like brutes for material wealth. We seek to accumulate, not with the intent of using our superior talent and power and wealth to make more richness, more fulness, more feeling, more beauty, more sympathy in life for others less capable or fortunate than we, but it is too often true that we seek to excell that self shall be preserved. And what a self — palate, stomach, eye, ear, skin, greed, sex!

"Self-preservation is the first law," is the offered defense. I grant you this freely if you will but let me define self. " 'Tis a short, short life we live here." How much greater then the need for living to the possibilities of the soul. Do you hunger and thirst for life? It is yours in abundance if you will but take it. Like the woman afflicted, you may receive virtue from life if you will but stretch forth your hand and touch — what? The life of your neighbor. "He will not receive me; he misunderstands my advances." What an indictment of a civilization that it should breed such a consuming suspicion.

Where can a change be made? Like charity, the work can begin only at my own fireside, at my own desk. It is my job, it is your job. No one may exercise the high privilege of leading his brother who has not himself first seen the vision.

The preservation of life is the basic want. It is the ultimate value. But the true and full life can only be created and preserved as it becomes a life for the good of all. He that would use his talent only for himself hides it in the deep earth and fears that he shall lose it. Life mocks him; ultimately he does lose it. He fails to live life that he could have lived had he put his talent to work, for hisj brother as well as for himself. As his brother's life would have been made fuller, so also would his own life have increased. It is the ultimate law of life.

My own existence is my most important fact. The social nature of my existence is a fact of equal importance. The life of my soul is my greatest treasure. How, in these constant contacts with other souls, shall I be able to preserve my own soul? What will I not give to preserve my life? What do I possess that I can give in exchange for the preservation of my soul?

I think I find from the life of Jesus an answer. The worth of your soul is great. The measure of your soul is richness and nobility of personality. Now, value for value is the measure of justice, and

WHAT SHALL A MAN GIVE? 733

therefore, great must be the value of that which you must give for your soul. It is much that you require; it is much that you must give. The only place of exchange in which you will find this great worth is in life itself, in living — living deeply and fully, forgetting self, in social relationships. Would you try to save that with which you begin — the gift of life — and not use it for others for fear of losing it, then will you surely lose. If you would save it, you must use it. Value for value; soul for soul. If you would save your soul you must give it. If you would find your life, you must lose it — in service. "For he that seeketh to save his life shall lose it, and he that loseth his life shall find it." That which a man shall give in exchange for his soul is nothing less than his soul. Only life is the adequate measure of life.

Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah.

Author of Light

Wonderful One! Wonderful One! My Pilot on life's stormy sea!

Storm clouds linger nigh,

While the billows toss high;

And I cling to the wheel,

As I pleadingly kneel.

0 thou Bethlehem Star, Send thy rays from afar To give light on my course O'er the sea to my homeland.

Wonderful One! Wonderful One!

1 sail through a dark, stormy night.

While night birds are crying,

Evil hearts are conspiring;

Temptation's great power

Beset me each hour. O thou Bethlehem Star, Send thy rays from afar To give light on my course O'er the sea to my homeland.

Wonderful One! Wonderful One! Guide me home o'er the sea.

Help me reach the blest shore

Where I'll wander no more;

Free from sorrow and fear,

Meet my loved ones so dear. O thou Bethlehem Star, Send thy rays from afar To give light on my course O'er the sea to my homeland. Meadow, Utah. A. J. T. SORENSEN.

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ORNAMENTS OF VERSE The Lonely Mother

Where out of the household we've all moved away,

And alone are the old folks at home. An old mother waits through the long silent day,

Still thinking of us where we roam. To her we are children her longings restore,

As her memories bring us anear, And she listens all day for our steps at the door

That now she so seldom can hear.

In tender endearments each child that she nursed

Is often a babe at her breast, And she fondles again, in her fancies immersed,

Each little one calmly to rest. She croons the old songs of her earlier years,

Sees a cradle she moves to and fro, And in reminiscence her eyes fill with tears

While thinking, of that long ago.

The girls and the boys that from hearthstones depart,

That mother at home holds so dear, The image of every child of her heart

Is brought to her memory clear; The pictures of incidents, where as their guide

She taught with a mother's caress, The little heart-prayer, — that the Lord would provide,

The faith that he ever would bless.

O Mother! the love thou hast given so free

Yet lingers in their loving hearts, In fondest remembrance still thinking of thee

As daily some thought it imparts. We love thee, as ever thy name we revere,

We pray that kind heaven above Reward thee forever, for earth has no cheer

So precious as motherly love. Los Angeles, Calif. JOSEPH LONGKING TOWNSEND.

A Tribute

(President Thomas P. Cottam, of the St. George Temple, Died March

16, 1926.)

0 could I speak today for all Whose tears are flowing silently,

The words I'd give to comfort you Would consolation bring to me.

1 know the sorrow that is mine

Is echoing within each heart, For he has grown so dear to us,

It grieves us that we now must part.

ORNAMENTS OF VERSE 737

But I'll not sing a somber dirge

For him who lies before us here, Nor shall I need, I'm sure, to urge

That we must keep his memory dear. For unto each of us his life

Has been a living, glowing truth, A blessed comfort to the aged,

A golden lesson to the youth.

The precepts which his Father taught.

Abided with him day by day; He lived in honesty, because

His conscience knew no other way. His gentle answer often came

To turn the floods of wrath aside; His code of life allowed no lapse

From right, whatever might betide.

The Master's words, "Love thou thy God

With all thy mind and strength and heart," And "Love thy neighbor as thyself" -

Were of his daily life a part. He loved his family and his home,

And gave his life to give them joy, Now, grateful to his bier they come,

His good wife and each girl and boy.

His labors both for Church and State

Have all been well and wisely done, And gladly would we emulate

The splendid course his life has run. For he who rules in gentleness,

And leads, instead of forces men, Shall live, though lost to mortal view,

And we shall some day meet again.

May God accept our tears, and bless

His memory to our daily good ; Giving us strength through each distress

To walk uprightly as we should; That when the destined hour shall come,

And we must Life's conclusion see, We, too, may find a welcome home,

Bearing our cross triumphantly.

St. George, Utah. MABEL JARVIS.

The Past and Present

The sun had driven the lizzard panting to a shadscale turf;

The ground gaped wide the agony of a parched and scorching earth;

Cursed were' the grass and the flowers, cursed of the iron rod:

A curse that yielded the desert bare. Cursed to a purpose of God.

Dry, hard, and baked, her claims unstaked,

But for the challenging rattlesnake,

Coiled marshal of her sod.

738 IMI'ROMEMENT ERA

The blast had driven the snowbird to her haunts of powdered white.

The frost li.nl painted the sagebrush with its magic over night.

F:rom the frozen peaks the chilled wind clutched her talons in the snow,

And drove the sifted swirling while to the plains far below.

Yet whistled and screamed in mad delight.

And left 10 the frost for another night;

A strangely picturesque sort of sight.

With naught but God to know.

The monarch of the western plain, the dusky Lamanite.

Laughed, and jested the northwind. and jerred at the tempest's might.

Conquered the season's harshness, wooed nature's love — and more,

Feared not the transient buffalo, nor the briny salt sea's shore.

! ived and died by her salty edge.

Lived for the desert more than the ledge,

Cho-e the sagebrush for his wigwam's hedge,

And wanted not for more.

* * * Cone row are the looms of the legend, vanished the dead with the past. Gone is the chant of the warrior; buried the hatchet — at last. Conquered the sage and the shadscale. Crushed is the rattlesnake's head. Spoiled are the haunts of the coyote. A city in their stead, with the salt sea's name. The desert tamed ; The mountains and seasons still the same as in the days of her dead.

Little Rock, Ark. O. WOODRUFF BUNKER.

Summer Melodies

O melodies, simple and sweet, Tinkling chimes' blown by the winds From the heart of bright Summer's retreat. Fresh from the full-throated birds and the tees, Babbling brooks and murmuring trees, Linger, O songs of mid-Summer.

O melodies, rippling clear,

Strewn through the vales and sunny dales,

Full laden with memories dear — ■

Laden with thoughts from the Past's golden hours,

Mixed with the dew and the fragrance of flowers,

Stay ever, sweet songs of mid-Summer.

Sing on, you warblers of rapture,

Sing the old songs, the melody throngs

To the hearts of Dame Nature's admirers.

Let harmony swell over river and dell,

And throb to the rhythm of the wild heart's knell,

At the joyous call of the Summer.

O melodies, greater than all, Chiming within above Life's din, The wondering Soul's silent call. Be thou ever enraptured with song, Music of heart and twittering throng, Happily singing in mid-Summer.

Ezra J. Poulson.

ORNAMENTS OF VERSE 73 9

The Call of the Hour

The hour is calling for men of deeds,

For men with vision of life and its needs,

For men of courage, undaunted by fears,

For men who can wait a reward for years,

For men who will work, and while they work pray.

For men of wisdom, who can lead the way,

For men who will live their message of truth,

And with that message fire onward the youth.

The problems of life grow bigger each day, A civilization wends onward her way; The snares are confounding, the temptations keen, The pitfalls covered, and often unseen; Men are anxious, as ever, to follow the right, And fight against error with vigor and might, But leaders are needed, God-fearing and true, To marshal the forces, to vict'ry fight through. Dixie College, St. George, Utah. H. L. R.EID.

Twilight

When the blue sky fades to twilight

And the shadows gently fall, Then the haziness of evening

Softly stealing over all

Brings me memories and longings

For the happy days of home, There at evening by the firelight

I am longing now to come.

Let me come and find the kiddies

Romping wildly everywhere, Faces beaming, eyes a-twinkle,

Let me come and find them there.

In their fairyland they're playing,

Happy days without a sigh, The gay music of their laughter

Sends its echoes to the sky.

When they hear my footsteps falling,

And they know that I am near, There's a rush to meet their daddy,

And they greet me with a cheer.

Then they cover me with kisses

And caresses where I stand; There is not another daddy

Half so proud in all the land.

Let me come to this dear haven

Where I lay my cares aside, In the lovely hour of twilight

Let me come and there abide. Mt. Pleasant, Utah. ALBERTA L. JACOBS.

740 IMPROMEMENT ERA

The Glorious Summer-Time

When Winter's gone and Spring has opened wide the gates of joy. And we behold the armies of the fuller blooms deploy, The vista of enchantment takes my vision as by force, Though I'm a willing captive led along the flowery course; The sunshine, warm and welcome, lighting up the pleasant ways That lead to greater glory with the lengthening of the days, Gives spirit to the song-birds and forcefulness to rhyme, To ring like bells in honor of the glorious Summer-time.

The herds down in the pastures and the flocks upon the hills, Drink in the joy of living with the water of the( rills, Unconscious of the How? or Why? unheeding of the Where? So long as there is food and drink their Paradise is there. Thus I am taught a lesson of contentment as I gaze Across the fields and watch the roving cattle quietly graze, And while the natural sunlight gilds the hillside as I climb. I feast with pleasure on the glorious Summer-time.

No fault is there in Nature; if there's any, 'tis in me, When treasures lying all around sometimes I fail to see The grandeur of the mountain height, the rushing water-fall, The green reposeful valleys, which for admiration call; Salt Lake, which in its loveliness, so cooling to the eye, Reflects the deep blue splendor of the ever wondrous sky; The rich, exuberant foliage in the glory of its prime — > Are some of Nature's drawings of the glorious Summer-time.

Fair Summer, Queen of Beauty, smiling pretty in your pride,

Delighting weary mortals, as they seek the country-side;

I could not well appraise the charm you've thrown about my heart

At fitting value, were I ultra-brilliant at the art.

The calm, delicious feeling which I breathe in with the air

So fills my keen, receptive soul that not a thought of care

Can find, or hope for, entrance to disturb the joy sublime

That makes this world a heaven in the glorious Summer-time!

Henry Nichol Adamson.

Riches

If I were rich, I'd dress in silks

And satins, broadcloth, too,

In tints of gold and every hue.

And with my wealth I'd buy

Everything my heart desires.

I'd travel far in every land,

'Till ever language I'd command.

I'd buy a home, not a humble cot,

But a mansion would I spot.

I'd furnish it in wealth of art,

Gay tapestries from foreign lands import,

And within that home I'd bring,

Rare books to read, sweet songs to sing,

And there I'd reign supreme.

ORNAMENTS OF VERSE 741

But, could I purchase happiness, Or love of God, to bless My life and fill with sweet Contentment, joy and peace? I fear my gold would have no power To purchase joy from every hour; Or buy the love of friends That brings me sweet content. Then, with my gold and satins, My mansion and my lattens, I'd be the poorest soul of all The earth, without the love of God. " Logan, Utah BEATRICE E. COOPER

Optimism

Does some fellow seem to hate you, And with his jeers berate you, Till your feelings 'most inflate you? Pause! Don't let your anger rile, But tighten up your grip, the while, And just send him back a smile!

O well, I know you'd rather fight, That would be supreme delight, Yes; but it wouldn't make it right. You don't need to call his bluff, Although you know you've had enough, Smile and bear it — don't be rough!

Just straighten up and sort o' grin 'Bout the trouble you are in, And never care a rusty pin. Learn to trust your fellow man, And then respect him, if you can, Though a checkered life you scan!

Now remember, as you reflect, You are not the Lord's elect! And only due a just respect. You might save yourself a fall, By weighing well the chances all, And listening to wisdom's call.

You be a man — the man you seem — Making life with service teem, And you will find life is no dream, But a paying dividend, Enriching you unto the end, And the Lord will be your friend!

Phoenix, Arizona M. A. STEWART.

742 IMPROMEMENT ERA

Twilight

The soft Summer breeze embraces the perfumed rose garden. A deep silence reigns, and the very flowers hold their breath. Now and then the emerald leaves rustic faintly as a tiny breeze dances by. The profound silence is broken by songs of the cicadas. The air becomes cool and calm with mystery. A pale curve of the moon slowly rises above the tree tops, and a shy star blinks at the lengthening shadows flickering over the roses. A drowsy bird chirps a tender lullaby, and the grey dove coos his serenade. The roses gently sigh as a sheen of glimmering dew envelopes the garden.

Leona Rasmussen.

True Friends

True friends on this earth Bring you laughter and mirth;

Drive the frowns and the tears from your face. They are sure to be near When you're needing some cheer;

If it's doubtful you'll win in the race.

Some friends may be fair And selected with care;

But the ones who will always score, Are the friends who will stay Though you lose in the fray,

They're the ones whom you'll love and adore.

True friends are jewels; So don't use them for tools

For each whim, and each mood, that you're in. If you want them to last You must hold to them fast,-

By being the friend that they've been.

Midvale, Utah. LAURA BATEMAN.

Give Yourself

You may sing of the new Jerusalem.

And believe in the world to be. You may dream your visions and cling to them,

Through the realms of eternity, You may pledge to the creeds that men devise,

Or the code of your Deity, You may build your temples to reach the skies,

And tread in their sanctity, You may pray your prayers at the altar flame.

But an atheist still arc you, Till you give yourself to the faith you claim.

And let all the rest come true!

Mesa, Arizona. BERTHA A. KLEINMAN.

ORNAMENTS OF VERSE 743

Again We Rest

Again we rest — -'tis eventide, Did we bestow the best we had

The day has fled and gone, Upon our work today?

The worries of the day are o'er If so, then we have made our goal,

And this day's work is done. And great will be our pay.

Has service been our utmost aim This day has brought us joy or grief.

Throughout our daily task? Which? We, ourselves know best.

Did we respond when duty called? They leave their mark upon us when

This, we ourselves should ask. We settle down to rest.

Provo, Utah. C. H. DURRANT.

Of Birthdays

Sun, why do you hurry?

Why do you clear at one mad bound

The frail, sweet mist;

And, bursting once in shouting radiance,

Route out the lingering muses of the night?

Why do you scud and slither up your path

So easily and so cruelly?

Oh, dumb, relentless sun,

Is it I who goad you?

I would fight you, hold you — ■

Tie you with sullen weights — dream-wrought and terrible.

Oh, grant me but a little moment still,

Before you lash your noon light on the world:

Before you totter for that awful leap

That flingq you from the zenith, leaving night —

But stav: your brassy breath is fading now!

Oh, blind sun, dazzkd by your own thin light!

See now already how you call up little shadows —

Blue and low, but feeling — gathering.

They frighten me, they whisper as they creep;

Sweet Sun, be kind and spare us but an hour.

The air is purple now the wind is waiting

A long sigh from the west.

Forgive me. Sun,

I did forget the glory of thy setting!

Hugh Nibley.

A Recipe

We know that we must train ourselves

In ways of being true, If happiness would be our lot

For what we're living through; For happiness comes only by

Fulfilment of one's duty. With, just to match, a little bit

Of romance, fua and beauty. Huntington, Utah LAMONT JOHNSON

CHRISTINE

By Fred McLaughlin

"I wrote him a letter about you, Chrissy."

"Your — your father, Bert?"

"Sure, Chrissy, I tell him everything. He's a dandy; you'd love him. He's the finest pal a fellow ever had."

Bert's eyes are brown — a brown so clear you can almost see the thoughts forming behind them.

"What did you — tell him, Bert?" A sudden fear overwhelmed me.

"Me? I told him everything. I told him that you helped me with my stories, that you write essays and sketches for magazines, that you are small and awfully sweet, that you are blond and that you have the exquisite prettiness of a bit of very fine china." "That I am — thirty?" I faltered.

"Yes, Chrissy; that you are thirty, and that you look twenty — and that I love you."

"Bert!" I cried. "You couldn't have told him that. He'll mis- understand and — "

"I want him to misunderstand."

" — and he'll come up here." I could hardly keep back the tears. "I'm afraid of your father, Bert; I don't know why, for I've never seen him, but I am. He will be angry."

"He's never angry, Chrissy," said the boy simply.

"But when you tell him that you love me, he will think — what will he think?"

Bert had been sitting on a rug at my feet, his head against the carved chair arm. Now he turned and faced me, a warm tenderness in his deep brown eyes. "I was nearly ten when my mother died," he said slowly. "My mental pictures of her are very beautiful, Chrissy; memories of her are very sweet. There are things you say — and things you do * * * the fine interest you take in my work, the thoughts you have instilled in me." His voice- faltered a bit, and then he went on: "Sometimes I imagine I can see her looking at me through your eyes. I guess you are a sort of reincarnation."

I twisted my fingers in his thick brown hair. "You love me like — like that, Bert?"

"I want to; I owe you so much, Chrissy/' His face brightened. "You have no idea how fully Dad understands things; he even knows what you're thinking about."

"You are twenty, Bert," I explained with heavy conviction; "a big, strong, broad-shouldered man, a man who will do great things in this world. Your father knows you will — expects it, and when you

CHRISTINE 745

write him that I am a widow, that I am thirty and look twenty, that I have helped you, that I am — er — pretty, and that you love me, he will think of me as — "

Bert laughed. , "He will think you are the most wonderful woman!"

"Hopeless!" I gasped. "He will come up here — and I cannot face him."

"You don't know Dad," said the young man. "When he learns that you have been an inspiration to me, that you have stood like a sweet, blond Muse, at my shoulder and have guided my groping mind through a literary maze, that you have helped me choose the proper word, the simple phrase — that simplicity which makes for strength — "

"Bert," I cried, "there are times when I find it difficult to keep from kissing you!"

He laughed.

"Who is your Dad; you know you have never told me?"

"He was a pretty big manufacturer until Mother died. After that he traveled a good deal. He's1 Senator now, and people in Washington like him."

"Of course," I said; "go on."

"He's been everywhere, Chrissy; you ought to hear him tell about it. And the way he can tell 'em! He can make you cry, dear, and then while you are crying he will tell you something so funny that you are laughing with the tears still in your eyes." The young man sobered suddenly. "One night he told me about the Lusitania."

"The Lusitania? Bert — what is his first name?" "Daniel — and he has all the faith and all the courage of the first Daniel."

"Daniel Coleman," I whispered. Strange that I had never connected the names. "Bert," I said huskily, "was Daniel Coleman on the Lusitania when it went down?"

He nodded. "Yes, Chrissy."

The young man's face wavered in a sudden mist of tears, then cleared, and I studied him. Odd, that J hadn't noticed. Bert had the same rugged features, the square jaw, the wavy brown hair, the knack of looking at you frankly, unwaveringly, when he talked to you. Eight years!

Once in a while it is given a woman to look into the eyes of a man and find them clean. Such had been the eyes of Mr. Coleman, and now, in those of his son, I found the same clear purity; the fine, spiritual sweetness that all women look for and few women find.

Daniel Coleman and I had walked the deck of the Lusitania in the moonlight. We had talked, somehow, of things that lay nearest our hearts. I had told him about the flaming youth who waited for me in London — Captain Bennett, an American who had joined the Canadian forces; and Daniel Coleman had told me about a boy of

746 IMPROMEMENT ERA

twelve, and an angel Mother who waited somewhere for both of them.

In the few days that I knew him he put something fine and sweet into my life; and, when the desperate pandemonium of that Friday afternoon broke loose he had sought me out, wrapped me in a great-coat, and carried me to one of the lifeboats. He had shouldered his way through, put me safely and carefully into the boat, then he had leaned down and said softly, "God bles9 you!"

I had held him for an instant and kissed him; he had stood back, smiling, while I cried good-byes through my tears.

Fate gave me Bennett for a few short, glorious weeks, and then the great God of War took him away from me forever.

Bert reached up a tentative hand and touched my hair. "What's the matter, Chrissy; are you dreaming? You have been looking into my eyes for five minutes."

"Your father never married again, did he, Bert?" Somehow I was sure that he hadn't.

"No, Chrissy, he didn't, but he has been both father and mother to me. You know it's an awfully fine thing to be able to think of your father as the greatest man you ever knew. He made nigger- shooters for me, and showed me how to shoot 'em; there was not a boy in the neighborhood who could beat him at marbles; he taught me how to skate, to sail that tiny cat-boat of ours; he played tennis with me — and golf. In all my life, Chrissy, I have kept no secrets from him; he has been broad-minded, forgiving, understanding."

"And because of all that," I said, my heart full of a strange elation, "you are what you are, Bert — fine and manly and decent."

When the doorbell rang I knew intuitively that Senator Daniel Coleman stood outside. I had dressed with a good deal of car£. I looked around the apartment. It was neat and pretty and homey, and I knew he would like it; yet, I was afraid.

I knew I would find a sort of prototype of Bert; a little taller perhaps, a little austere, a little broader of shoulders, a little more rugged of features. There would be a bit of gray in the wavy brown hair, a soft light in the clear eyes, a sweetness of soul — a broad under- standing.

The floor lamp only half lighted the livingroom. He looked around, vaguely, and seeing my proffered hand, took it and held it for a moment.

"Mrs. Bennett?" he asked with a slightly rising inflection. I nodded. Somehow I couldn't speak. Eight years before I had kissed him good-bye — and cried.

Except that the broad shoulders were a little bowed, and the voice pitched a trifle lower, and lines of care — or of mental concen-

CHRISTINE 747

tration — touched his face, I could find no physical change in him. There was no gray in his hair.

I led him to a chair near the shaded lamp, where he stood until \ had found another chair and had moved it away from the circle of light. I caught a fleeting smile and knew that my subterfuge had been appreciated.

He cleared his throat. He spoke gently: "Bert said you were thirty and looked twenty."

"Yes," I whispered.

"I have no real right to be here," he continued apologetically, his eyes on the rug, "and if you find my visit at all distasteful — or disconcerting — "

I finally found my voice. "Not at all, Senator; I am very glad to see you."

He looked up, startled, for a second, then his eyes sought the rug again. "Bert is all I have, Mrs. Bennett; I have tried to put into the boy everything of myself that was good."

"He has a lot of good," I said gently.

"Thank you; you have done a deal for him, and, if I may, I'd like to thank you for that."

"Bert has been a joy," I said.

"You — love him?" he faltered.

"I guess I do."

He sighed. "I wish to be entirely fair. Whatever Bert wants that is good for him I shall make every effort to aia him to get. He wrote me that. he loves you." ,

"He told me that he had written you," I murmured.

Senator Coleman laughed. "It is very good to be able to be frank, don't you think?"

"It's the only way."

"My boy and I," he continued, "have read each other's lives like open books. Do you see?"

"I am very glad," I said. I got up and went to the door and snapped on the electrics, flooding the room with brilliant light. I turned and found Daniel Coleman on his feet. He was1 staring at me, a light of recognition dawning in his eyes.

"Mrs. Bennett!" he gasped. "Wait a minute — let's see * * Christine." Both of his hands were outstretched. "Christine — by Jove!"

I took his hands. It seemed, to me that a great protecting wall had suddenly been built between me and the world. Peace and con- tentment, and a great happiness came into my life. I looked into his eyes again — and right on into his soul. The years fell away from us.

748 IMPROMEMENT ERA

"Bert was right," he said after a pause which I knew he needed for self-control; "you are thirty, and you look twenty."

His eyes went over me — clean, fine, approving. "How beautiful you are, Christine!"

I was glad, for I wanted him to think I was beautiful. All my fear had gone. Life seemed so sure now, so safe. My feet had fallen into pleasant paths; the world had become — all at once — a beautiful, glorious place wherein to live. I saw worship, newborn, in his eyes, and I was glad — glad.

"The last time I saw you — " he began.

"The last time I saw you," I interrupted, "you put me in a lifeboat — and whispered, 'God bless you!' Then you stood back — waiting."

"And you kissed me," he said, laughingly, " — and cried." "I'm crying now; wait a minute." I pictured the fine gentleman standing on the deck, while the lifeboats filled — just waiting. "I suppose you stood there and waited — "

"Of course." He laughed. "I went down with the infernal thing, and swam for hours, and the water — even for May — was wretchedly cold."

He came close to me and held out his arms. "I have never for- gotten," he said.

"Nor I." Came an awkward silence. "You said — 'God bless you'," I whispered.

"And you kissed me," he answered.

The doorbell rang. I waited.

"God bless you," he whispered softly.

I stood on tiptoe and kissed him. The bell rang again.

"Bert!" he gasped in sudden horror and contrition. "He loves you, Christine — the boy loves you — and now I have — "

"Don't worry; that's Bert," I said, opening the door.

The young man caught sight of my flaming face. "Jove, Chrissy — you're pretty!"

"Come in, dear," I urged.

Then he saw the Senator. "Dad!" He hurled himself into his father's arms. The frank, open love, the easy camraderie, the full understanding of the two men was a beautiful thing to see.

"What's up?" cried the boy. "You look too — too — "

"Mrs. Bennett has just promised to marry me."

Bert caught me in his strong young arms and, for the first time, kissed me. "Gee, Chrissy," he said happily" — didn't I say you would love him?"

Washington, D. C.

THE FORMAL OPENING OF BRYCE CANYON,

1925

By Grace Wharton Montaigne

(In the preceding instalment is told how in May, 1925, Governor Dern found his way to Bryce Canyon barred by gates fastened, with chains of flowers and ropes of ferns; his meeting the Queen; how she permits a little girl to see Old Carver of the Purple Cloak carve the rocks, with his tiny chisel and bar.)

II

The Story Teller Recites the Views of Bryce Canyon

Leaving the grandfather to his flood of emotions brought to mind by recalling the death of his bosom friend in the Civil War, the story teller and the little maid walked to the rim of the canyon. There were pointed out to the little girl the many striking erosional forms, which are invested with likeness by giving the imagination but the least suggestion.

Hiawatha wooing Minnehaha was pointed out, two faces carved close together, he with eagle feather in his hair, and she lending attentive ear to the age-old refrain of the "Sweetest story ever told." "Over there," it was pointed out to the little girl, "is Queen Victoria, in white satin robe of state, flowing veil, and lengthy train to the imperial gown; see, she is bent forward ever so slightly, as if to ascend the throne."

"Yonder is Cannonball Castlement, which withstood the assault," of horse, arrows and ram, an impregnable buttress to chivalry; but a monk mixed saltpeter, charcoal and sulphur — there lies the cannon ball in the very breach it rent, as the shot was fired that sounded round the world and spelled the doom of Knight and Lady, of Glove and Tourney."

The Five Monks

"Look," said the story teller, pointing as she spoke, "there are the five monks, fat, jolly, rotund, with thoughts more in the tankard than in the text; see, they are even now a merry drinking crew with pot of ale poised midway as the latest sally of merriment is chuckled over.

"Yonder is the 'Mormon' Palisade, which at sun-up in November is lit with a blaze of glory; for it then looks exactly like 'being lighted from within, as if the 'Mormon' Pioneers had stopped the night before in that palisade, entrenched safely against the painted and naked foes of the plains, and were this morning lighting their fires for the morning meal, which spreads the gleam from within. Justly has it its name.

"Away over yonder is 'The Temple of Justice,' with fluted

FORMAL OPENING OF BRYCE CANYON 751

pillar partly intact, but colonnade melted into the hill, razed by the unsparing hand of time.

The Doughboy Guarding the Throne of Zeus

"Down below us," and they took the tiny path which led them into the deptht, "is a scene you must not miss. At Arlington Cemetery, America paid homage with due rites to 'An Unknown Hero,' with impressive ceremony, solemnizing the sacrifice made that Democracy might live. Here at Bryce Canyon is an effigy of 'The Doughboy Guarding the Throne of Zeus,' wrought by The Hand that shapes the destiny of nations, and preserves the steady onward march of civilization. Yon large pile is the mausoleum; on it note well the form of the Doughboy, with metal cap, strap under chin, mustache, and soldierly bearing, guarding old ancient King Zeus, whose sem- blance is now almost worn out, even as his religion, which once swayed the minds of men, is now tenable only in poetic phrase,. At the monarch's side sits the Eagle, 'The Messenger of the gods;' and near at hand, within easy reach is a vase full of nectar, the drink of the celestial rulers. Nor does the sculpturing of Nature cease at that. Follow the eye along farther and you will find an Ethiopian, done with bronzed face looking upward to the cloud forms, a white turban surmounting his head, and atop the turban, a black bow. So dearly did the ancient gods love this race that the Olympic twelve often spent the week-end among this favored people — Homer tells us how in one instance when the battle raged before fated Ilium, Zeus himself and his companion gods were even then regaling themselves at a banquet with this placid people. Look yet once more: A perfect figure is carved, by the Wondrous Hand, of a naked Roman gladiator, he who fought with trident and net, naked, against his fully armed antagonist. The arena of the Coliseum was stained with blood of one or the other, according as with whom victory sat. This man has had a particularly fast tilt with his foe, and rests, panting, as he sits upon yonder rock. Against the horizon you see the minarets of the Mosque of Omar, Moslem fane become Christian church."

The story teller pointed out each object to the marveling eyes of the little person by her side.

"Back upon this path you may see a perfect representation of a cub bear's head, so \ery true that one almost expects to see the sign. 'Tickle me,' and to see it show its teeth merrily as its stomach is scratched.

"In this place where we now stand is 'Sculptor's Studio,' where color and form hold the eye enthralled, as if one stood in an immense studio where sculptured forms ranged the sides, on each of which the Master Artisan tried his hand as he added a touch here, or cut a more pronounced feature there. All about in this wondrous spot of Bryca Canyon is work unfinished — form upon form upon which the hand

752 IMPROVEMENT ERA

of God will yet again be laid as rain, as snow, as frost, as cutting wind, as the work .further progresses.

"For, child, both you and your elders should look upon^ Bryce Canyon with imagination in full play, which should be allowed to run ahead, and you keep pace with it if you can — the run in the wild will do you good, and open up your powers."

Lore of Mythology

Not to unduly tire the little person at her side, the story teller retraced her steps, and soon they were on the rim, joined by daddy and the grandfather, for the speeches were over, and the crowd dis- persed, each intent to see what his neighbor could not.

With the grandfather on one side and the little girl on the other, the story teller proceeded, "There, where you see the brown spot, the only place or that color in the canyon, that stain on the walls is from the soot and grime of Vulcan's Forge where he set up his blacksmith shop when he was busy fashioning the girders of the earth; there he piled his immense array of refulgent brass and shiny tin, the one, as you see, ruddy red, the other gleaming white. This ancient god was lame, but Jove gave him permission to endow with life two girls he'd made of gold, that they might support his weight as he walked, and help him in his work at the forge. There they are, those two pillars, Grace and Beauty — then rosy-fingered girls, with the tint of dawn on cheek and the luster of living light in eye.

"Those days he had a big quenching tub, such as all blacksmiths use to cool the hissing iron as it came from his anvil sizzling hot, which of course became full of red iron rust; — attend closely, for this huge tub of color plays a most important part.

"One day the lame god looked up from his work and saw two men on the rim, one pointing a one-eyed thing from under a black cloth at the girls, as one said, Tm going to take a picture of those two lovely girls.'

" 'Girls nothing!' said the other; 'why man you're daffy. Those are merely two old, misshapen clods of dirt.'

"This so incensed Vulcan to hear his living, golden girls thus spoken of, that in his rage he kicked over the huge tub, full of flaming color, in high dudgeon; the immense flood of red water thus dashed against the cliffs, stained them the ruddy reds you see, and thus was Bryce Canyon in scenic Southern JJtah given its charm of color. The great mass of water, thus suddenly thrown out, cut and wore, tumbled and churned, and chiselled its way to the sea, cutting that great gorge behind Bryce Canyon, which crass men unknowingly dub 'The Grand Canyon of the Colorado,' retaining in that appellation nothing of the true origin of the gorge except the Spanish word Colorado, which means red, ruddy.

FORMAL OPENING OF BRYCE CANYON 753

"Thus was the -exquisite little gem of Bryce Canyon colored, its myriad form splashed with pigment; and also did that act cause the making of the most sublime spectacle earth shows to man — the most colossal ditch of creation."

Torquelstone Castle

"Are there any really, truly castles here?" asked the little girl. "Well," the story teller replied cautiously, "some very, very old ones, much worn, are here, in which I truly believe.

"There is Torquelstone Castle, with the moat now almost worn away, in which burly Groent de Beoff and false Debois Guillbert imprisoned the Jewess, Rebecca, and the wounded knight, Ivanhoe. I can dimly make out the ruins of the old postern gate at which Sir Knight Sluggard battered with the mace that none but the mighty arm of Richard himself could wield.

"Far back behind Torqelstone Castle you see the ruins of the old Parthenon or Temple of Athena, the pride of ancient Greece and the wonder of later ages. There is the corner post at the right, and the other at the left, with the facade between them, still strikingly .intact. Some call that King Solomon's Temple, and say that sound of neither axe nor hammer was heard in its making, which I can readily believe. And I could almost be persuaded that the 'Cedars of Lebanon' are those very pines you see sticking up round about.

"Yonder on the ridge you see 'The Chinese Wall' with buttresses every little while, just like the many hundreds of miles of that great wall about the Flowery Kingdom, manned by pig-tail crew to keep the hordes of Tartars out.

" 'The Pageant of the Nations' is a spectacle which may be seen from the rim of Bryce Canyon in which the ruined inheritance of all the old civilizations of the Ancient World walk past, each with its battered heritage — feudal castle of Chivalry, the Acropolis of Athens, the Chinese Wall, the Persian Mountain of Trial, the Cathedral from Medieval Europe, alongside of the more recent 'Mormon' stockade, England's Queen, and hero of Indian poem.

The Cathedral When down in below, had we gone on a little farther, we would have come to The Cathedral, a form of Gothic pile, now crumbled nearly into ruins; the once proud spire that lifted man's aspirations heavenward, now fallen to the height of the main edifice. Long, long ago, long before Strassburg, Milan, or the great masterpiece of Sir Christopher Wren emerged from his dreams to take form in nave and Spirc_long, long, long ago, this ancient edifice stood, silently biding its time in the Silent City to be seen by men. The Mountain of Trial "This sharp edged mountain that rises from the depths upward to

754 IMPROjMEMENT ERA

your feet, so easily viewed from the rim where tourists walk, is called 'The Mountain of Trial.' The ancient Persians believed that when a person died the naked soul walked this scimitar edge on trial: and were it loaded down with the double sin of debauchery and vice, and staggering under the inroads of excesses, as the eager flames lapped up from either side to claim their victim, the weakened soul of the impure stumbled and fell; but the soul of the good, used to walking the 'straight and narrow path,' upright with strength preserved, strode' forward, surmounting its trial, until, danger passed, bright-eyed Houris received him on the other side and conducted the meritorious one to the sacred "presence of Ormadz."

That evening after the last story was told, a little brown head lay nestling upon a pillow, and before surcease of the day fell in full, little lips muttered, "Tell me another one — a long story."

The story teller walked out in the moonlight to the rim, to the rock jutting over the edge, with Torquelston Castle mellowed in the pale beams, and stood there listening intently.

As I said, "to a story teller is given much to see, and to hear more."

As she stood there in the moonlight she saw an ancient yoeman in the feudal baron's service slowly and laborously walk the castle wall from tower to tower and climb the farther parapet, forcing old joints to the menial task of crying the hours, a never ceasing round; a lantern in his hand in which the light had long since flickered out when the gleam faded from chivalry; she saw the ancient servitor mount the parapet's tower and there lustily yell: "Ten o'clock, and all is well."

One standing behind the story teller, unobserved, a sordid person with mind grovelling, remarked, "How noisy the night hawks are tonight; did you but just hear that one?"

jfc ^C 5^ 3{C ^S

And thus ended the Formal Opening of Bryce Canyon in 1925, as Imagination ended its flight, coming with startling suddenness from a realm peopled with fairies, gnomes, and gracious queen, strewn with the debris of crumbled heritages from the Past, to set foot once more on solid terra firma — to come with saddening abruptness from flights of fancy where the cry of "Ten o'clock and all is well" is heard as nothing but the roar of a falling night hawk in his search for food with open gorge. Delia, Utah.

Here and There

Mud slingers never have clean hands. Any kind of weather is better than no weather at all. Many a child absorbs fine principles over his mother's knee. A doctor is not a financial success until he discovers some new disease. Some house-maids are wireless wonders — they are always listening in. When the cook book becomes the best seller, there will be more happy home. — D. C. R.

	m	mRhB	H i	F 5 *	1

SAMUEL JEPPERSON A Pioneer With a Singing Soul

WESTERNERS IN ACTION

Samuel Jepperson, a Pioneer With a Singing Soul By Professor H. R. Merrill, Brigham Young University

Samuel Jepperson was never known for his singing, but he has a singing soul, so say the pioneers who have known him, man and boy for nearly three-quarters of a century.

Coming to Salt Lake City when but two years of age, Samuel Jepperson soon became enamored of the mountains which surrounded him. When but little more than an infant his parents trekked south with him to Provo, Utah county, where they secured a home on the shore of Lake Utah, built a house almost among the reeds, where the queer sounds of the water fowls at evening lulled the boy to sleep, and where the snow-capped Mt. Timpanogos, more than two miles above him, greeted his light-blue eyes each morning. In this place, backed by generations of music-loving Scandinavian ancestors, Samuel

756 IMPROMEMENT ERA

Jepperson developed the soul-power that has enriched his people and his nation.

He was a farmer; was, because he sold his farm only last fall to his son. He is over seventy years of age, but like Rabbi Ben Ezra, he feels that, with the press of labor gone, the end of life promises to be the best. His enthusiasm is youthful.

Yes; he was a farmer, but the soul-power developed among the reeds by fifteen thousand Utah sunsets, gorgeous beyond description, over Utah Lake to the west of his home, and an equal number of sunrises, over the Wasatch to the east of his home, had to find ex- pression through other channels. This farmer, therefore, listening to his singing soul, began to paint, began to play, began to sing. As a boy, in a community where tubes of artists' colors were unknown, he gathered his color from the wild cherry, the wild gooseberry, the mustard, and a score of other growing plants and began to paint pictures with these crude colors to satisfy the longing of his soul for expression of the beautiful things he felt. Then one day a scene painter came to his frontier town. Young Jepperson followed him about, helping him, hindering him, plying him with questions, and worming from him the source of his paints and, his skill. Later a portrait painter came to be the idol of the growing boy. He found his colors and set to work upon the scenes that had made his soul sing.

While wresting a living from the soil to support a wife and a large family of small children, this man ;gave much of his time to his art. No doubt his neighbors laughed at him, as they have done at the prophet in his own town from the days of Adam, but he kept on; he still keeps on. The critics come and say, "The pictures are too realistic;" or, "The picture lacks imagination." The pioneer smiles and continues to daub, for he isn't painting pictures for the critics; he is painting for his soul. Nearly all of his pictures, and there are a thousand or more of them, are of pioneer scenes connected with the history of the West. Many of the critics disregard his pictures, but there are a few who recognize that this man has written a chapter in American art that some day may be worth while. There are scores of people who love the man and his work. Many are like the secretary of the Provo Chamber of Commerce, himself a pioneer* and a son of

a pioneer, who said: "I don't care a what the critics say, I

like Sam Jepperson's paintings, and I'm not afraid to say it!"

But this man with the singing soul did more for art than to paint. He wrote a chapter in the musical history of his state, and his children are adding to the story. Finding his town practically without music, he organized a band and an orchestra. Finding them without instruments, he supplied them by making them. He worked four days with an ox-team, bare-footed in the canyon, when but a boy of fourteen, for his first "fiddle." This he loved and learned to play

WESTERNERS IN ACTION 757

as few pioneers learned to play by themselves. He played by note, and played with a fluency and finish that was surprizing. He led the first band and the first orchestra organized in the Brigham Young University, then the Brigham Young Academy. During his career he made fifty violins, one hundred eighty guitars, ten or twelve cellos, several violas, and six double bass viols. Included among the guitars were many of original design with harp string accompaniment.

In a nut shell, this is his contribution to his civilization: One thousand paintings (there are probably many more) valued at from $25 to $300, worth in money, not counting their artistic value to his community, at least $50,000; fifty violins worth at least $5,000; ten cellos worth $1,500; six viols worth $900; and six double bass viols worth probably $600; and one hundred eighty guitars worth at least $1,800. In all he has created in the neighborhood of $60,000 of wealth, all of which will increase rather than decrease with the passing years. But, of course, he didn't get this sum of jnoney, as most of his pictures are not sold.

But the best thing he did cannot be counted in money. ( He was a light shining in the wilderness to many other artistic souls who might not, except for him, ever have been developed. He gave to a raw and more or less uncouth frontier a little soul-heat from which whole communities have been warmed. In addition he has given to the world a daughter who is loved from Boston to Utah for her soulful voice and her matchless feeling for music; another daughter with a dramatic soprano voice that is decidedly promising; a son whose fingers can draw from stringed instruments their secrets, and whose lips can extract sweetness from brass instruments.

I saw this pioneer the other day. He is planning to have the greatest Summer of his life this Summer, even though the clock has ticked off nearly three-quarters of a century since his birth. "I am going to Zion Canyon," said he. "There I am going to spend the Summer and paint. It is nearly fifty years since I painted my first pictures in Utah's Dixie, and I want to go back there and see if I have improved." As he talked, his blue eyes lit and his hands trembled. I knew he was listening to his singing soul.

This is Samuel Jepperson, artist, farmer, musician, instrument maker, but above all, lover. He has lived a simple life, urisung, unappreciated, but not unloved. To know him is to love him. Provo, Utah.

Orangeville Pioneers, Showing Five Generations

These are all members of the Orangeville ward, Emery stake, Utah. Baby Rena Van Buren is the nucleus of the picture, and with the baby in the front row are its father and mother, Mr. and Mrs.

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IMPROMEMENT ERA

Vernon V. Van Buren. Center row, left to right: Mrs. J. L. Killian, a great-grandmother of the baby; Mrs. Andrew Van Buren, a greal- grandmother; Mrs. S. L. Jewkes, great-great-grandmother, 92 years of age; Mrs. Hyrum H. Taylor, a great-grandmother; and Mrs. A. G. Jewkes, also a great-grandmother. Back row: Mrs. J. Frank Killian, .1 grandmother of the baby; J. Frank Killian, a grandfather; Flyrum H. Taylor, a great-grandfather; A. G. Jewkes, a great-grandfather; A. A. Van Buren, a grandfather; and Mrs. A. A. Van Buren, a grand- mother. The first three in the center row all crossed the plains during

ORANGEVILLE PIONEERS, FIVE GENERATIONS

the 60's. The old lady, the baby's great-great-grandmother, was 96 years of age on February 19, 1926. She has sixty living great- grandchildren, and fifteen great-great-grandchildren, all but three liv- ing. She was a convert from England to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The two men in the center of the back row took very active part in the Black Hawk Indian war in Sevier and Sanpete counties; and, with their wives, answered the call of the Church to go from Sanpete county to Emery county, or Castle Valley, to take part in the settlement of that country. All these people were alive in April, 1926.— A.

Gladys Carron Wins Trip to New York

Gladys Carron, a first-year student in typewriting at Richfield high school, won the coveted trip to New York in the Second

WESTERNERS IN ACTION

759

GLADYS CARRON AND GEORGE HOSSFALD

Annual Shorthand and Typewriting contest which was held at Brigham Young University in March. Miss Car- ron was a post-graduate of Richfield high school, but under the rules of the contest, she was eligible to participat2 in the contest since she was taking her first-year of typewriting and was reg- istered for a sufficient number of hours 2t the high school.

Miss Carron will have a free trip to the national contests which will be held in New York next fall. She will go as the guest of the Underwood Type- writer Company.

She is shown in the picture with George Hossfald, for five years world's champion typist, who was present at the contest.

Mis9 Carron made a record of 62 words oer minute. — H. R. Merrill.

Provo, Utah.

A Pioneer Family

A picture of Fred A. Rindlisbacher, wife and family, of Ban- croft, Idaho. The father and mother were born in Switzerland, in 1871, and 1876, respectively. They immigrated to Utah in 1883. and located in Providence, Cache county. They were married in the Salt Lake temple August 3, 1894; and removed to the place then known as "Squaw Flat," and filed on a homestead near the Bancroft station, Idaho. Here they were instrumental in organizing the Lund ward, from which Bancroft, Central and Turner wards are out- growths. They pioneered the wild sagebrush country, brought the water from Bear river to the parched soil, and besides this took leading part in religious matters. Brother Rindlisbacher acted for twelve years in the superintendency of the Lund school, and for 26 years as a ward teacher. He filled a mission to Germany in 1902-3, and for a number of years was a stake High Councilman. The mother is a member of the Relief Society, and has done much good among the sick and the afflicted. The eldest son filled a mission in the Southern states. The four married daughters and one son, were all married in the temple, and are all giving service in the Church. Brother Rindlisbacher and wife have thirteen children, averaging in age from six to thirty years; eleven grandchildren living and four dead. The splendid work of this family is a sample of what Latter-day Saint families are doing

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IMPROMEMENT ERA

FRED A. RINDLISBACHER AND FAMILY in different parts of the West, in subduing the soil, building the country and the commonwealth, and at the same time rearing honor- able families, and acknowledging the blessings of the Lord, in all they enjoy. — A.

Zion Park Mountaineers

CLIMB TO SUMMIT OF LADY MOUNTAIN

Officials and scouts who made the climb were: Scoutmaster Royal Chamberlain, Assistant Scoutmaster Alfred Riddle, Troop Committeemen Andrew M. Anderson and Nephi Christensen, and scouts Joseph Fife. Verdel Lunt. Mont Rosenburg. Claude Smith, Reed Petty, Harry B. Leigh, Thorley Cox, Richard Thorley, Conway Parry and William Dover.

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761

Andrew M. Anderson, chairman Troop Committee, Cedar City Boy Scout Troop No. 2, with the troop, made the first recorded climb to the top of Lady Mountain in Zion National Park during their Spring hike, on Saturday, April 17. This mountain rises straight above the valley about three thousand feet, and overlooks! the Great White Throne, and also gives a magnificent view of. the surrounding country as far as the Kaibab forest. The climb is made almost straight up the face of the cliff, with hundreds of steps cut into the rocks Several thousand feet of cable were stretched to assist the climbers^ Those who made the climb are eligible to membership in the Inter- national Organization of the Zion Park Mountaineers. Another fea- ture of the hike was a swim at La Verkin hot springs.

Indians at Conference

More than fifty years ago, President Brigham Young, always a great friend to the Indians, ordered a community of Indians established in Box Elder County, Utah, and named the community "Washakie." This unique colony consisted of a band of roving Shoshones, to whom

Photo by George Ed. Anderson, Springville, Utah

The picture shows, left to right: Kin Nolagau, Posetz Nolagau, Hay

Timbimboo, Yampitch Timbimboo, Yeagah Timbimboo. Mr. arid Mrs. Tim-

bimboo are grandparents of the little girl: their son, Moroni Timbimboo, father of

the girl, is superintendent of the Sunday school at Washr.kie.

missionaries were sent by the great pioneer. They practically all joined the Church, were organized into a ward, which is functioning at present under the direction of Bishop George M. Ward, and his full-blooded Indian counselors, Yeagah Timbimboo, and another In-

762 IMPROMEMENT ERA

dian whose name we did not obtain. The Bishop and his family 2re the only white people residing in the colony. Mostly all the Indians are members of the Church, although there are a few who are not. The Sunday school, M. I. A., and various other auxiliaries of the Church are officered by Indians, and this is likewise the case with the priesthood quorums. They have a school directed by a white teacher, where the children of the Indians art taught the waysi of the white man. The younger Indians, for the most part, speak the English language, though many of the older people are not able to do so. Automobiles, sewing machines, and other modern conveniences are found among the Indians, many of whom dwell in regular build- ings, though a number still insist upon housing themselves in their tepees or "wiki-ups." The Indians live by farming and working on the farms in various parts of Box Elder county; and, as with the whites, some are prosperous and some are in poverty.

At the recent 96th annual conference of the Church, Yeagah Timbimboo, who is 75 years of age, spoke in the great tabernacle, his remarks being interpreted by Bishop Ward. The members of the colony who visited the conference consisted of ten civilized red men and women of Washakie, who were interested listeners to the talk that Timbimboo gave to the people, and which talk is printed in the April Conference Report. Two of the Indians who came to conference were not members of the Church, but they attend Church regularly every Sunday, and are interested in the organizations of Washakie. Bishop George M. Ward is a son of Moroni ward, who was one of the founders of the Indian colony.

Faith is this Man's Wealth

By Lowry Nelson

A resident "minister of the gospel" in the Church of Jesus CJhrist. of Latter-day Saints is very extraordinary, to say the least. In fact, I had never heard of one, except the missionaries, until I met the subject of this sketch. In the course of my interview with him, I recalled that when I sent a questionaire to stake presidents recently there was one who reported his occupation as "Minister of the Gospel." I thought this must be a facetious remark, for I could readily understand how a stake president, because of his many duties, might consider his main vocation as working for the Church, and his incidental work that of making a living . But now, I discover that President William Thomas Jack, of Cassia stake in Idaho, spends his entire time in religious duties; and his manner and address impress one with the idea that he is a worthy and capable servant of the Lord.

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763

Over his three score and ten years, President Jack has witnessed the enactment in the Snake River valley of a tremendous pageant. He was sent to Oakley to preside over Cassia stake in May, 1900. He had been home just two days from the Central States mission where he was president. His resources dapleted by two missions, he was hard pressed at that time for means to get him to his Idaho destination. A widow who lived neighbor to him in Salt Lake City came to him and offered some small assistance. He declined, feeling that what she had to offer him would not be of much aid, and might cause her to suffer. This good woman came each day for three days, each time raising the amount which she wished to have him accept, until finally

PRESIDENT WM. T. JACK, CASSIA STAKE

she offered to let him have three hundred dollars. This was just the cmount which he needed to take him to Oakley and purchase a house, which cost him one hundred dollars, so he accepted it.

In 1900, Cassia stake included the territory now involved in .the stakes of Boise, Raft River, Twin Falls, Burley, Blaine, Minidoka, and Cassia. In order to make the rounds of his stake, it was necessary

764 IMPROMEMENT ERA

for him to travel 150 miles north from Oakley, 80 miles west, 40 miles south, and about 30 miles east:

"I have worn out several buggies, and several span of horses," remarked President Jack, "and in making the trips in the winter. I frequently ex- perienced much discomfort. The cold seemed to get right into my bones. But my motto has always been, 'The Kingdom First,' and so I did not mind discomfort so long as I was in the line of my duty.

"When I came to this country I did not have much money, but I had a good store of faith. I had learned the goodness of the Lord on my mission, and my testimony always remained with me to strengthen me in time of need. I took much comfort from the statement of Ncphi, that the Lord never makes a requirement of people, without making it possible for them to fulfil it."

President Jack reports that he did not have an opportunity to attend any college or university, except that he has been a life-long student in the "University of Hard Knocks." He has taken advantage of his experience and let it teach him. He has, of course, been a close student of the scriptures all his life, and has enriched his store of knowledge from wide reading in the world's literature.

President Jack with his counsellors have been in office longer than any other living stake presidency in the Church. He has seen the remarkable development in the Snake River valley, due to reclamation by irrigation of the vast stretches of fertile soil, which at the time he first came to Oakley was entirely barren of human, habitation. His great life's message and the ideal which has led him on might well be summed up in the injunction of the Savior: "Seek ye first the kingdom; of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you." ,

Ptovo, Utah.

June

JUNE is the sixth month of the year, The promise of MAY is fulfilled; The garden of Eden again is in bloom, for — ■ Now we have roses and JUNE.

JUNE is the month of perfection, She's the beautiful sister of MAY; Her garments of roses, her arms filled with roses, Almost she is fairer than MAY. Rogers, Arkansas MRS. OTIS GEISE

UTAH PIETY ON THE NORTH RIM OF THE GRAND CANYON

By Frank R. Arnold

If any Utahn pushes his way this year, or any year, down to the north rim of the Grand Canyon, piety as well as the Chaucer spirit that loves to go on pilgrimages demand that he should go farther. He should leap, hurdle, fly over or even prosaically ride or walk down into the canyon and up and out again at El Tovar on the south side. Then he should charter an automobile to take him to the Hopi reser- vation where the town of Moenkopi will speak eloquently to him of Jacob Hamblin, the first "Mormon" missionary to the Arizona Laman- ites as well as the pilot who led the first settlers to the Little Colorado valley. You see we use the word "piety" in its ancient Roman sense of love and reverence for the deedsi of one's ancestors as well as in the modern sense of devotion to one's church. Most Utah people, slaves of the automobile and so modern that they know( not the use of their legs, simply ride down through the Kaibab forest to the north rim, gaze at the canyon from their lofty perch, one thousand feet higher than the other side, dismiss it all with some word such as "sublime" or "splendid" and then turn back to St. George fig trees, or Kanab cow buffaloes. Such are not pious Utahns in any sense of the word. They are just material for Sinclair Lewis or Bernard DeVoto to poke fun at.

The genuinely pious Utahn, sitting on the rim, will be assailed by an avalanche of historical and religious memories. He will recall that he is in just about the geographical center of the great state of Deseret whose boundaries, far flung by Brigham Young, reached from southern California to Wyoming and from the Rio Grande to the Columbia. He will also recall that the 'first white man after Escalante to cross the Colorado- River at the eastern end of the two hundred- mile gorge of the Grand Canyon was Jacob Hamblin. He started from Santa Clara in 1858, and had to cross it in order to carry the gospel to the Hopi Indians. He got the habit thus and went over nearly every year until his death in 1886, sometimes crossing at the west end of the canyon, but usually at the east end, either at Lee's or the Padres' crossing. He was the pathfinder of northern Arizona, its Daniel Boone or its Peary, and it is thanks to him that Utah settle- ments are now flourishing in Arizona around the head waters of thf Little Colorado and the Gila, as well as in the Salt River Valley. It is also thanks to him that in the 70's men like Ivins, Jones, and Stewart went prospecting in Mexico and Texas and found locations for Mexican colonies. If you sit on the canyon rim and don't think of Jacob Hamblin, you are absolutely without piety. You are as bad as a man who visits Mount Vernon and never gives a thought to

Top: Cameron Trading Post, the most fascinating store in Arizona.

Center: The northernmost bridge over the Little Colorado river at Cameron Trad- ing Post.

Bottom: The Powell monument on the south rim of Grand Canyon, an object of piety to Southern Utah.

ON THE NORTH RIM OF GRAND CANYON 767

Washington, or who spends a day at Versailles and does no serious thinking about the vanity and value of kings like Louis XIV.

Pious memories of Jacob Hamblin and Utah's share in building up Arizona should push you across the canyon. You do not need to follow the Hamblin path to the east nor take Stone's Ferry at the west. Your most speedy path is to drop right down the Kaibab trail on foot or on horseback as far as the suspension bridge with Phantom Ranch at the south end. This is twenty-one miles and enough for one day. Next day you climb up along the Tonto trail to Indian Gardens, and then up to El Tovar on the south rim. This is only eleven miles, but if you are on foot it will be one of the hardest climbs of your1 life, especially the last few miles. On your way you will pass through the best geological laboratory in the world, for you will climb from the Archean black granite of the river bed to* the light bluff Kaibab lime and sandstones topped by red Moenkopi shales and sandstones. f

At El Tovar you will find one of the world's most comfortable and attractive hotels, but piety dwells not in hostelries and will pull you in many directions. First you'd better visit the Hopi house near the hotel. It is an admirable replica of such houses as you will later see at Moenkopi with the entrance from the roof, with huge fire- places inside and with baskets, blankets, piles of corn and all the paraphernalia of a modern Hopi house. It is a store as well as an archaeological museum, the most fascinating store in the southwest, where you may find Navajo jewelry and blankets, Hopi ceremonial trays and blankets, as well as baskets from all the tribes of Arizona. In fact, in this store Arizona seems to spread out all her Lamanite cards on the table and say to you, "Behold and admire and purchase if your pocket book will let you." The salespeople are more obliging than Parisians and will spend hours helping you select conchas of just the right form, or bracelets with the best turquoises. Or, if you are interested in the colors of baskets or blankets, they will tell you how the Navajos and Hopis get their dyes and set them with smoke from smouldering wool, using steeped cedar berries for red, rabbit wood for yellow, blue from the Mexican indigo plant, and black from charcoal or soot. Back of the Hopi house are Navajo hogans where Navajo Indians weave blankets and do silver work to supply the store.

After your piety has feasted on Lamanite industrial art you'd better go rambling along the bridle path that leads along the rim to the west. At every moment you have canyon views, each more beautiful than the other for color, light, and vastness, but the main object of your pious expedition should be the Powell monument about two miles from the hotel. It is to the memory of Major Powell, the first man to pass through the Grand Canyon in a boat, as well as the first to descend the whole length of the Colorado from Green River, Wyo-

768 IMPROVEMENT ERA

ming, to the mouth of the Virgin. He ranks with the Utah pioneers and is a well beloved character in southern Utah, where he did much exploring in the early 7Q's and made many friends. His first voyage was in the Summer of 1869 and the monument is erected on the place on the rim that corresponds to his most bitter experiences during the trip. On August 28 three of his men deserted, discouraged by the hardships of the canyon and weakened by lack of food. They hoped to reach the "Mormon" settlements to the north but were killed by Indians. Powell, however, kept on, and by September 3 reached the mouth of the Virgin where he found men from St. Thomas waiting for him. The names1 of Powell and his companions are on the monu- ment, but the names of the deserters are wisely omitted. The monu- ment is a simple flight of stone steps leading to a stone platform surrounded by a masonry parapet. You can sit on this parapet, look down at the winding river and think many a long, long thought of the conquest of the Colorado and the intimate relations of the river with Utah.

If you wish to follow everywhere in the footsteps of Jacob Hamblin, you will want to push about; 35 miles to the west to Hill Top and then drop down nine miles into Cataract Canyon, the home of the Supai Indians. Hamblin stopped to see them in 1863, when he crossed the Colorado at the west end of the Grand Canyon on his way to the Hopis. The trip is a hard one and) needs a week to do it adequately. At Hill Top there is an Indian warehouse and you can look down into Cataract Canyon with Lee's Canyon entering it. The first half mile down into Lee's is almost straight down. As one traveler says, "Some ride down and call themselves brave, others walk and call themselves sane." There are few places where two horses could pass and to slip on this trail means to fall into eternity. Six miles down you reach Cataract Canyon and see walls covered with pictographs, at least one thousand years old and probably a written page of Supai history that has never been deciphered. Four miles farther you come to Head Spring, the source of the Supai river, and three miles beyond is the Indian Agency. Then you go down to Navajo Falls where John D. Lee took refuge from the law. Although he gave his name to Lee's Ferry, he did not live there very long and found Navajo Falls a better hiding place. Lower down you have first Bridal Veil Falls and then Mooney Falls, the latter higher than Niagara and eight miles from the Colorado. You cannot use a horse beyond Mooney Falls and you must ford the river four times to get down to the Colorado, but the experience is so unique that the few who have done it report it well worth while for the sake of the scenery, rare vegetation, and memories.

Best of all the south rim trips is the one to Moenkopi. Best because it takes you eighty miles into the Navajo and Hopi reservations,

ON THE NORTH RIM OF GRAND CANYON 769

reveals to you the resources of northwestern Arizona and takes you through Tuba City, the oldest of the "Mormon" colonies in Arizona. The trip can easily be made in a day by automobile if you start early enough. You first go up Long Jim canyon eleven miles to the "site of the old Grand View house, which before railroad days was the canyon tourist center and received visitors by means of the stage from Flagstaff. This canyon gets all the water that falls on the south side of the Grand Canyon and pours it into Cataract Canyon. All around are the same yellow pines and cedars bedecked with mistletoe that you see on the north rim. Your next notable landmark is Waterloo hill which has killed many a Ford engine. Soon you get into the open grazing country of the Navajo reservation, look down into the canyon of the Little Colorado, and after 56 miles riding you get to the trading post of Cameron post office. Here is a bridge over the Little Colorado and from here you can outfit for Lee's Ferry and the Rainbow Bridge in Utah. You are in the heart of the Navajo country and keep meeting Indians with brilliant colored shirts, with turquoise earrings, with sUver necklaces and belts of silver conchas. Most of them have Pendleton blankets for those they weave are all for sale. The trading pn»t is more fascinating than any store on Fifth Avenue. On one side are rings, necklaces, bracelets and baskets. On the other bolts of brilliant velvets and cottons that the Navajos love, with Pendleton blankets hanging on high. On the back wall of the store silver belts and necklaces are hung in pawn, many of them' worth over a hundred dollars apiece and all representing the most superb exhibit of barbaric mediaeval metal work outside Europe. Above these belts and neck- laces are Navajo blankets for sale at the most reasonable, prices since "before the war." Those in natural undyed wools are the most attractive, but they are not numerous as the Navajo woman cannot resist putting a bit of red into her designs any more than Sargent could omit it in his pictures. Here by the river the hotel autos> always send back their first relay of carrier pigeons to give information about the condition of the road and guests on the hotel cars. The birds take the place of telephones , are bred and trained at El Tovar and a visit to their trainer is one of the things to do at the Grand Canyon. The idea of using carrier pigeons instead of telephones was brought back from the war by one of the directors of the Fred Harvey company, and this year is the first they have been used, as the old birds were brought from Chicago a year ago and the new birds have to be trained in the country in which they are to fly.

After crossing the Little Colorado you drive your car on through the painted desert, thinking of Leo Crane's book on the Hopi and Navajo country which bears this name, and looking off to the San Francisco mountains to the west and the Lee's Ferry mountains to the north where the Grand Canyon begins. All along the way you see prostrate petrified trees and when you get to the petrified squashes and

7 70 IMPROVEMENT ERA

the dinosaur tracks it is noon and time for any lunch you have brought along. A few miles farther! on you get into the Moenkopi wash, full of Navajo hogans, houses and farms and then you climb the hill to Tuba City where there is a Navajo Indian school and agency. The town looks like a typical "Mormon" village dropped down into the desert and, no wonder, for it is the oldest of the "Mormon" settlements in Arizona and has the characteristic poplars, orchards, and the gardens of the Utah village.

Here you are on historic ground and should do much thinking about Jacob Hamblin and his yearly missionary visits to the Hopis and Navajos. It is thanks to them that the way was paved for Utah people to come in and possess the land. First came the Horton Haight party in 1873, then the following year John L. Blythe brought in a company from Kanab, but it wasn't until 1875 that a permanent settlement was made in Moenkopi creek, or Moen Copie as it was written then. In 1878 Moen Copi was visited by Erastus Snow who located a new town site at, Musha Springs, nearby, which later took the name of Tuba City, from an Indian whom Hamblin had brought to Utah on, one of his early trips. It was at Tuba City that Lot Smith was killed by the Indians in 1892. In 1900, the town was sold to the government for $45,000 as a site for an Indian agency, and three years later the place was vacated by the Utah settlers as they felt that their work there was purely a missionary one, and they had no right to crowd the Indians off the small amount of arable land available.

Nowadays the chief "Mormon" touch is the old homesteads, but even these are overwhelmed by the agency buildings. The trading post has not the glamour of the store you have left behind you by the Little Colorado, but it is not without distinction. Last fall it shipped out a car load of pine nuts. Here is also the best place to buy Navajo moccasins which are far different from the soft soled garden variety to which you are accustomed in your northern Utah blindness. These Navajo mocassins have soft, reddish-brown buckskin legging tops, but heavy raw hide soles, as hard as galvanized iron, with turned up toes to keep the Navajo from stubbing his toe against spiney cacti. You fit the moccasins by standing in them in wet sand and then letting them dry to the shape of your feet.

Down a hill, past a pathetic little graveyard with no headstones, nothing but sand humps in the desert, surrounded by a barbed wire fence; then up a hill, and you are in Moenkopi, a mushroom modern town as Hopi pueblos go, for it is only 150 years old. From the kiva place you have a fine view down the wash over peach orchards and corn fields. The kiva is, so to speak, the tabernacle square of the town. Here are held the snake dances and here you can go down by a ladder into the kiva and see in the large underground room, lighted only from above, the paint pots and masks used for making

ON THE NORTH RIM OF GRAND CANYON 771

up in the dances. You can easily imagine it full of rattlesnakes just before the dancers emerge with snakes in their hands.

Although the pueblo is not ancient and the pueblo roof en- trances are all replaced by modern doors, you will find the village a most alluring place in which to browse. The three or four stores are just so many club houses where the tourist visitor is as good as a vaudeville show to the outwardly stolid but inwardly chuckling Hopis. You can buy Ute baskets from Utah which every Hopi maiden wants on her wedding day; Navajo jewelry made to please Hopi psychology with butterfly or snake motifs, but Hopi blankets are not abundant. They have all been bought up as museum prizes and the supply is well nigh exhausted. Although the Hopi reservation is an enclave in the Navajo, the Hopis are as different from their neighbors as Ken- tuckians are from French people. The Hopis are rather diminutive and built Jwith the short stocky legs and lithe body of a Japanese wrestler. They all, men and women, have bobbed hair and were probably the first Americans to adopt this expeditious style of coiffure. Around the hair and forehead goes a folded silk handkerchief or ribbon which contrasts violently and brilliantly with their black hair and dark skin. About the streets you see naked babies taking their first adventurous steps; dogs which are the result of a long series of chance of illy planned matrimonial alliances; and children roasting corn. This corn is the most remarkable thing in all the Hopi land. You see white, red, or blue black ears piled up, each color by itself along the walls inside the houses, and you will find that the squaws make a hole with a stick in the loose sand ja foot deep for each kernel as they plant it and thus the corn makes the longest plumule in the corn world. It also has very few leaves as the plant seems to have a genetic frenzy to make nothing but ears and wastes no time or moisture on leaves. The corn is very sweet and whether you see its mahogany colored kernels, so like pomegranate seed, in a brass pail, or whether you eat the roasted corn, you are apt to think it one of the finest products of the painted desert, and a greater boon to the Lamanites than the pine nut or Navajo jewelry.

And all this is within easy reach of the Grand Canyon, for going to the Grand Canyon is like going to Europe. You can confine your visit to one corner or you can roam indefinitely. You will also find that, like Europe, you will only get as much out of the Grand Can- you as you take to it. To visit the Grand Canyon without a knowledge of geology and botany, or an enthusiasm for "Mormon" pioneers and Indian life, is as bad as to expect to enjoy Europe without any knowledge of history, art, or politics. Even the desert can tell you tales from every canyon and cactus, if you have only ears to hear; and to invade northern Arizona without the seeing eye and the hearing ear is one sign of an incomplete Utahn. Logan, Utah.

■'.».

BRIGHAM YOUNG AS SUCCESSOR TO JOSEPH SMITH, THE PROPHET

By Preston Nibley, Member General Board Y. M. M. I. A.

President Brigham Young was doing missionary work in Peter- boro, New Hampshire, on the 16th of July, 1844, when he learned of the death of the Prophet Joseph Smith. News traveled slowly in those days, and it was not until nineteen days after the martyrdom that this terrible and disheartening word reached him. Being president of the Twelve, he realized immediately, no doubt, that the burden of leadership of the Church now rested upon him. Nothing in our his- tory is more beautiful and inspiring to me than the way in which this man, chosen of God, stepped forth and took command. The prophet, the founder, the leader, was gone — but a new leader, equal to every emergency, a new general, born to command, stood in his place. While others were in doubt and consternation, not knowing which way to turn or what to do, this man knew instantly, and he stepped out and shouldered his task like a true man.

Ten of the quorum of the Twelve were at this time scattered throughout the eastern states, doing missionary work. The first prob- lem, therefore, was to gather them together and proceed immediately to Nauvoo. Brigham's journal gives us a few general items relating to his return journey. Beginning under date of July 16, when the news of the death of the Prophet reached him, he writes:

"I started for Boston; stayed at Lowell all night.

"July 16 — Arrived in Boston; found Brothers Kimball and Wood- ruff.

"July 18 — I met in council with Elders H. C. Kimball, O. Pratt and W. Woodruff, preparatory to returning to Nauvoo.

"July 21 — Elder Kimball and I attended meeting in Boston and preached to the Saints.

"July 23 — We attended meeting in the evening and ordained 32 elders. Lyman Wight, for whom we had waited in Boston about a week, arrived.

"July 24 — I left Boston for Nauvoo, in company with Brothers Kim- ball and Wight, and on our arrival at Albany were joined by Brothers Orson Hyde, Orson Pratt and Wilford Woodruff, who had just arrived from New York. We continued to journey night and day, by railroad, stage and steam- boat, via Buffalo, Detroit, Chicago and Galena, and arrived in Nauvoo on the 6th day of August, where we were received with joy by our families and friends."

Wilford Woodruff relates that the boat bearing the brethren docked at Nauvoo at 9 o'clock in the evening. "When we landed, a deep gloom seemed to rest over the city of Nauvoo, which we never experienced before." I fancy that "a deep gloom" hardly describes the condition of the people in Nauvoo at this time. They were without their great and inspired leader, the man who had gathered them from various parts of the earth, the one to whom they had looked for guid-

BRIGHAM YOUNG AS SUCCESSOR TO JOSEPH SMITH 7 73

ance and inspiration. They were a flock without a shepherd. What should they do now? No one knew. Sidney Rigdon, close associate of the Prophet for nearly fourteen years, and his counselor in the First Presidency, hastened from Pittsburg, where he had been attempting to build up a branch of the Church, and offered himself a9 "a guardian" to the people. The following day after Brigham's return home, Aug- ust 7, at a meeting of the Twelve, the High Council and High Priests, in "Seventies Hall," Sidney formally presented himself. He said:

"I have been called to be a spokesman unto Joseph, and I want to build up the Church unto him, and if the people want me to sustain this place, I want it upon the principle that every individual shall acknowledge it for himself. I propose to be a guardian to the people; in this I have discharged my duty and done what God has commanded me, and the people can please themselves whether they accept me or not."

After fourteen years of almost constant labor in the Church, that was all that Sidney Rigdon seemed to know about Church government. A guardian? The suggestion was hardly believable. But Sidney's plea, because of his attitude, had little or no weight with the members of the quorum of the Twelve and the others who heard him.

At the meeting held August 7, Sidney's claim fell with dead weight on the ears of Brigham Young. When he had ceased speaking, President Young (just past 43 years- of age at this time) arose and defined his position. His words were clear and decisive enough and left no doubt in the minds of his hearers. He said, speaking for the Twelve:

"Joseph conferred upon our heads all the keys and powers belonging to the Apostleship which he himself held before he was taken away, and no man or set of men can get between Joseph and the Twelve, in this world or in the world to come.

"How often has Joseph said to the Twelve, T have laid the founda- tion and you must build thereon, for upon your shoulders the Kingdom rests.'

"My private feelings would be to let the affairs of men and women alone; only go and preach and baptize them into the Kingdom of God; yet, whatever duty God places upon me, in his strength I intend to fulfil it."

However, this stern rebuke did not effectually dampen the deter- mination of Sidney. He was to make one more grand attempt on the morrow. The remainder of the evening he was busy stirring up the interest of his friends, and through William Marks, president of the Nauvoo stake, he called a meeting of all the people to convene the next morning, August 8, at 10 o'clock.

Promptly on the morrow, a great multitude assembled. Sidney was the first speaker, and he harangued before the people for "two hours." But his words were like chaff on the wind and no great impression was made by him. He was his own undoing. Following his remarks, President Young arose and stated that he would answer Sidney at two o'clock the same afternoon, and again the multitude assembled, for the interest was intense. We are fortunate in having even a meagre account of President Young's great speech. Such account

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as we have was taken down that day in long hand, and is brief and disconnected. But it reveals the soul of the man, and the great earnest- ness and faith that were in him. It was on this occasion that he estab- lished himself in the hearts of the people as their leader:

Synopsis of President Young's Speech

The meeting being opened, President B. Young arose and said: Atten- tion all! This congregation makes me think of the days of King Benjamin, the multitude being so great that all could not hear. I request the brethren not to have any feelings for being convened this afternoon for it is necessary; we want you all to be still and give attention, that all may hear. Let none complain because of the situation of the congregation; we will do the best we can.

For the first time in my life, for the first time in your lives, for the first time in the Kingdom of God in the 19th century, without a prophet at our head, do I step 'forth to act in my calling in connection with the quorum of the Twelve, as apostles of Jesus Christ unto this generation — apostles whom God has called by revelations through the Prophet Joseph, and who are ordained and anointed to bear off the keys of the kingdom of God in all the world.

This people have hitherto walked by sight, and not by faith; you have had the Prophet in your midst. Do you all understand? You have walked by sight, and without much pleading to the Lord to know whether things were right or not.

Heretofore you have had a Prophet as the mouth of the Lord to speak to you, but he has sealed his testimony with his blood, and now, for the first time are you called to walk by faith — not by sight.

The first position I take in behalf of the Twelve and the people is to ask a few questions. I ask the Latter-day Saints, do you, as individuals, at this time, want to choose a prophet or guardian? Inasmuch as our Prophet and Patriarch are taken from our midst, do you want some one to guard, to guide and lead you through this world into the kingdom of God, or not? All that want some person to be a guardian, or a prophet, a spokesman, or something else, signify it by raising the right hand. (No votes.)

When I came to this stand I had peculiar feelings and impressions; the faces of this people seemed to say, we want a shepherd to guide and lead us through the world. All that want to draw away a party from the Church after them, let them do it if they can, but they will not prosper.

If any man thinks he has influence among this people to lead away a party, let him try it, and he will find out that there is power with the Apostles, which will carry them off victorious through all the world and build up and defend the Church and kingdom of God.

What do the people want? I feel as though I wanted the privilege to weep and mourn for thirty days at least, then rise up, shake myself, and tell the people what the Lord wants of them. Although my heart is too full of mourning to launch forth into business transactions and the organization of the Church, I feel compelled this day to step forth in the discharge of those duties God has placed upon me.

I now wish to speak of the organization of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. If the Church is organized, and you want to know how it is organized, I will tell ycu. I know your feelings — do you want me to tell your feelings?

Here is President Rigdon, who was counselor to Joseph. I ask, where are Joseph and Hyrum? They are gone beyond the veil; and if Elder Rigdon wants to act as his counselor, he must go beyond the veil where he is.

There has been much said about President Rigdon being President of the Church and leading the people, being the head, etc., etc. Brother Rigdon

BRIGHAM YOUNG AS SUCCESSOR TO JOSEPH SMITH 775

has come 1600 miles to tell you what he wants to do for you. If the people want President Rigdon to lead them, they may have him; but I say unto you that the quorum of the Twelve have the keys of the Kingdom of God in all the world.

The Twelve are appointed by the finger of God. Here is Brigham. Have his knees ever faltered? Have his lips ever quivered? Here is Heber, and the rest of the Twelve, an independent body, who have the keys of the Priesthood, the keys of the kingdom of God to deliver to all the world; this is true, so help me; God. They stand next to Joseph and are as the First Presidency of the Church.

I do not know whether my enemies will take my life or not; and I do not care, for I want to be with the man I love.

You cannot fill the office of a Prophet, Seer and Revelator; God must do this. You are like children without a father, and sheep without a shep- herd. You must not appoint any man at our head; if you should the Twelve must ordain him. You cannot appoint a man at our head, but if you do want any other man or men to lead you, take them and we will go our way to build up the kingdom in all the world.

I know who are Joseph's friends, and who are his enemies. I know where the keys of the kingdom are, and where they will eternally be. You cannot call a man to be a prophet; you cannot take Elder Rigdon and place him above the Twelve; if so, he must be ordained by them.

I tell you there? is an over anxiety to hurry matters here; you cannot take any man and put him., at the head, you would scatter the Saints, to the four winds, you would sever the priesthood; so long as we remain as we are, the heavenly head is in constant co-operation with us; and if you go out of that course, God will have nothing to do with you.

Again, perhaps some think that our beloved brother Rigdon would not be honored, would not be looked to as a friend; but if he does right and remains faithful, he will not act against our counsel, nor we against his, but act together, and we shall be as one.

I again repeat, no man can stand at our head, except God reveals it from heaven.

I have spared no pains to learn my lesson of the kingdom in this world, and in the eternal worlds; and if it were not so, I could go and live in peace; but for the gospel, and your1 sakes, I shall stand in my place. We are liable to be killed all the day long. You have never lived by faith.

Brother Joseph, the Prophet, has laid the foundation for a great work, and we will build upon it; you have never seen the quorums built one upon another. There is an almighty foundation laid, and we can build a kingdom such as there never was in the world; we can build a kingdom faster than Satan can kill the Saints off.

What do you want? Do you want .1 Patriarch for the whole church? To this we are perfectly willing. If Brother Samuel H. Smith had been living, it would have been his right and privilege; but he is dead, he is gone to Joseph and Hyrum; he is out of the reach of bullets and spears, and he can waft himself with his brothers, his friends and the Saints.

Do you want a Trustee-in-Trust? Has there been a Bishop who has stood in his lot yet? What is his business? To take charge of the temporal affairs, so that the Twelve and the elders may go on with their business. Joseph condescended to do their business for them. Joseph condescended to offer himself for President of the United States, and it was a great con- descension.

Do you want a spokesman? Here are Elder Rigdon, Brother Amasa Lyman (whom Joseph expected to take as a counselor) , and myself. Do you want the Church properly organized, or do you want a spokesman? Elder Rigdon claims to be a spokesman to the Prophet. Very well, he was; but can he now act in that office? If he wants now to be a spokesman to

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the Prophet he must go to the other side of the veil, for the Prophet is there, but Elder Rigdon is here. Why will Elder Rigdon be a fool? Who knows anything of the priesthood, or of the organization of the kingdom of God? I am plain.

Does this Church want it as God organized it? Or do you want to clip the power of the priesthood, and let those who have the keys of the priesthood go and build up the kingdom in all the world, wherever the people will hear them?

If there is a spokesman, if he is a king and priest, let him go and build up a kingdom unto himself, that is his right, and it is the right of many here, but the Twelve are at the head of it.

I want to live on the earth and spread truth through all the world. You Saints of latter days want things right. If 10,000 men rise up and say they have the Prohet Joseph Smith's shoes, I know they are impostors. In the priesthood you have a right to build up a kingdom, if you know how the Church is organized.

Now, if you want Sidney Rigdon or William Law to lead you, or anybody else, you are welcome) to them; but I tell you, in the name of the Lord, that no man can put another between the Twelve and the Prophet Joseph. Why? Because Joseph was their file leader, and he has committed into their hands the keys of the kingdom in this last dispensation for all the world. Don't put a thread between the Priesthood and God.

I will ask, who has stood next to Joseph and Hyrum? I have, and I will stand next to them. We have a head, and that head is the apostleship, the spirit and power of Joseph, and we can now begin to see the necessity of that apostleship.

Brother Rigdon was at his side — not above. No man has a right to counsel the Twelve but Joseph Smith. Think of these things. You cannot appoint a Prophet, but if you let the Twelve remain and act in their place, the keys of the kingdom are with them, and they can manage the affairs of the Church, and direct all things aright.

Now all this does not lessen the character of President Rigdon; let him magnify his calling, and Joseph will want him beyond the veil; let him be careful what he does, lest that thread which binds us together is cut asunder. May God bless us all.

Following this great speech by President Young, a vote was taken and "the Twelve" were unanimously sustained as head of the Church; the claim of Sidney Rigdon to act as "guardian" being rejected. The fears of the people were allayed: the orderly process of Church gov- ernment had been carried out.

How to Remember

. A new congressman from the Middle West had studied a course in memory training, and prided himself on his dependable memory for names. The course taught that to remember a new name, compare it with some othet familiar name or with some word of like meaning. The congressman had been introduced to ex-Governor William Spry of Utah, Commissioner of the Land Office, and had applied the rule. Upon a subsequent meeting with Mr. Spry, the congressman unhesitatingly greeted him: "Glad to see yon again, ,Mr, Nimble." ,

CLEAN DIRT

By Blanche Kendall McKey

The heart of Paul Reid beat rapturously with the pulse of the living, while Stillwater slept in the silence of death. On the side of the low hill clung the little town, white in the moonlight, its houses grouped about the high-spired church, as if it were the hour for prayer. Paul's train "chug-chugged" into the distance; the black spot dis- appeared; the moon shone upon the ribbon rails as they raced to meet each other far down where the misty green of the open became mistier gray. Silence. The silence of Texas earth breathing a hundred per- fumes and of Texas skies, deeper, wider, more hushing than all the other skies of the states. So thought Paul.

The young man set down his valise and drank his fill of the balmy June night, his eyes upon the slumbering town. The silver- windowed high school was plainly discernible, and too the silvered clock-face of the city hall. Hidden by trees was the Mayor's home — Gail's home; but he knew the exact spot. She was sleeping there, dear lady of his dreams! Down in the little hollow below the town proper, clustered the shacks, the tumble-down homes of Stillwater's poor. Pete Cooper's house, the best of them all, stood out con- spicuously. Back of Pete's barn was the shack Paul and his father had called "home." Closing his eyes he shut out the view of the "Hol- low," trying to forget the misery it recalled. He looked up the hill towards Gail's home; and he thought of the diploma which lay in his valise, for Paul was now a doctor of the law. But during the long walk to Stillwater's only hotel, dismal scenes of his stricken childhood kept flocking unpleasantly to his mind.

In the course of time, Paul Reid was admitted to the local bar, and a sign was hung out from his small office. When waiting had grown irksome and the little money he had saved was almost gone, there came a message summoning him to the office of Stillwater's mayor. Paul eagerly accepted the invitation.

Mayor Halliday arose as the young man entered his inner office.

"You-all are welcome," he said courteously, in the soft speech of the South, though Paul felt no warmth in his hand-clasp. He offered a chair opposite his own at the table. It faced directly the strong light pouring in through the window. The older man studied Paul's clear blue questioning eyes. Finally he spoke:

"I reckon we both remember our last — er — serious interview?"

"I do," replied Paul quietly.

"At that time you promised to speak no word of love to my daughter."

"I have not forgotten."

"My daughter has the — er — impertinence to inform me that you

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have neither written nor sought an interview with her since your return to Stillwater."

"Your daughter told the truth," Paul replied.

"Then I feel somewhat — er — obligated to inform you that my daughter — er — rather unfortunately, has not succeeded in driving you out of her heart."

"Your news is not associated with misfortune in my mind," said the young man quietly. He waited. Finally Mayor Halliday went on: "When Gail was eighteen I was not alarmed; but she is now twenty-six. She has refused most of the young men of Stillwater and six passers-by. She calls them "ships that pass in the night."

"They need not cause alarm, Mayor Halliday, so long as they pass." There was no impertinence in the quiet remark.

"Confound it, man, I don't want them to eternally pass!" cried the mayor. Paul suppressed a smile; and the old man continued more calmly: I >

"My daughter's happiness is the dearest thing in the world to me. She is all, I have. I'm getting to be an old man; I want to see her settled — protected. I want it right bad."

He waited for Paul to speak, but his visitor continued to stare at him questioningly.

"Gail is a girl of very strong likes and dislikes," finally the father went on, gloomily. "She has beauty, charm, and — amiability unless she sets her mind upon some undesirable thing."

It was Paul who broke the silence. "What do you wish of me, Mayor Halliday?" he queried.

"I want you to understand the situation," the mayor replied. "A 'Ship' with a good cargo sails into port to-morrow — at my invi- tation. This 'Ship' happens to be the son of the governor of Texas."

"Edward Hale?" asked Paul.

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"I do. He was a class-mate of Miss Halliday's in Austin."

"The same. He is well-born, handsome, promising, and he loves my daughter. My desire is for this 'Ship' not to pass. So I informed Gail last evening. She became angry; she was perfectly capable of managing her own affairs; she stormed. She is reserving herself for you, my dear sir, in the mere supposition that your heart is hers." i ,

"Miss Halliday knows that I love her very deeply. We know without words that we still love each other."

"I'm wondering if I may ask what your intentions are?" the old man queried, sarcastically.

"My intentions have not changed, sir," answered Paul. "I am trying to place myself in a position where I can feel justified in asking you to release me from my promise."

"Your — er — prospects, at present?" ventured the mayor.

"Are very poor," replied Paul, grimly. "And so of course I

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cannot stand in Miss Halliday's way if she can — like this seventh. 'Ship.' But I feel that it is I who can really make her happy. No amount of poverty can take that comfort out of my heart."

The mayor of Stillwater leaned across the table. "It is not the poverty that I object to, Reid," he said. "It is something far more deeply rooted. You will pardon my frankness, but I have been mayor here for a long time, and it is hard to believe that permanent good can come out of the Hollow."

"Dirt isn't always dirty," replied Paul in a low voice. He was recalling his mother's gentleness — in spite of the Hollow — and the brown soil that now covered her dust. "Out in the open field, under the sun, dirt is clean." He arose. "I do not know that I should make any apology," he said quietly. "The sins of my unhappy father all belong to the 'omission' class. That does not excuse him, but it is better than being an out and out criminal. But I hug to my heart; a different philosophy from yours. Mine is: 'The virtues of the mothers shall be visited upon the children unto the third and fourth generation.' At least that is my hope." He crossed to the door.

"Just a moment, Paul," said the mayor, rising. "The Hollow is giving us a good deal of trouble. Do you want a job?"

"Yes."

"Do you go into the Hollow?"

"At times. The friends of my childhood are there; I could not be a spy."

"Where do you stand in regard to the State's prohibition laws?"

"I stand with the State," replied Paul.

"Yet you will not defend the laws?"

"I hope that I did not imply that," answered Paul. "What do you want me to do?"

"Become a prohibition enforcement officer and work under cover."

"My field?" asked Paul.

"The entire county," replied Mayor Halliday. He named the salary.

"Do you accept?"

"Of course," answered Paul.

After the mayor had made necessary explanations to the younger man, and when Paul was preparing to leave, Halliday remarked:

"A man can't help admiring you, Reid: you know how to stick. . But don't misunderstand me; I shall do all in my power to keep the seventh 'Ship' from passing."

Paul Reid, attorney-at-law and prohibition officer, threw his whole energy into an investigation of the liquor question; and with heavy heart he recognized the truth that evidence pointed more and more conclusively to the fact that Pete Cooper was a vital factor in the illicit liquor trade that was demoralizing the state.

One night he knocked upon Cooper's door, and Elsie, the only

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• daughter of the house, opened it. She welcomed him warmly, joy flushing her sallow cheeks. Her joyous call brought her father into the room. Pete Cooper was a large man with protruding black eyes and an over-seamed face. The sullen lines broke into a delighted smile when he saw Paul. He looked him over approvingly.

"You am a wonder, Paul," he chuckled, drawling his words and slighting his "r's." "You look better every time I see you; you- all am a right smart fellah."

Paul, absorbed in the old man, did not notice Elsie, whose eyes bespoke an emotion deeper than pride in her friends achievements. Before he left, Paul told Pete pointedly that unsuspecting bootleggers were being watched by the law, and had better take warning lest trouble overtake them. Cooper scowled his contempt of the law.

The next day Reid located a still in the hollow of a low hill north of Stillwater. The mayor prosecuted to the extreme limit of the law the two men caught red-handed. Stillwater began to divide more and more decidedly into two factions, one for and one against Halliday.

Again Paul went to Cooper's home.

"Pete, for the love of goodness, give thisi game up before the law gets you," he implored.

"What game?"

"You know. Pull out, Pete."

"You betteh pull out o' here, sonny. You arn't contented with becoming a ejucated swell; you've got to turn reformer. You-all have come to the wrong house."

"Pete, I'm your friend."

Something in the boy's sincere tone made the old man turn to him.

"An' I was a friend to you once, sonny."

"Don't you think I know it? I never could forget your kind- ness. You saved me many a time when father . This was the

only real shelter I ever knew after mother — went. If ever a man owed another a good turn, I owe one to you. Give up what you are doing."

Cooper shot him a quick glance under scowling eye-brows. "Who is it you are afraid of?" he asked.

"Mayor Halliday."

Pete gave vent to a coarse laugh that rumbled into an oath.

"Mayor Halliday is getting too old for his job," he said. "He's getting entirely too finicky. It's a good thing his term is almost oveh. Stillwater needs a young mayor — not an old crank; some young felleh like — like — "

"Like Paul," finished Elsie.

Her words had a peculiar effect upon Pete. He stared at Paul as if he were seeing him for the first time: magnetic, handsome, well-edu-

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catcd, the type which easily grows into an idol of the people. Finally he commented:

"Yes, some young felleh like Paul."

As a sequence of this incident, Cooper and two of his friends dropped into Ried's small office a few days later. Pete, after having officiated in the introduction, let the communication be carried on by more expert tongues. They were representing the new party — the people's party. The citizens of Stillwater were tired of old-fogie methods. They wanted a young mayor.

"Just what will your new methods imply?" Paul asked.

"A little more individual freedom, for one thing. And we want the children of the Hollow to have a chance. There is no real democ- racy in Stillwater. What we want is a young man with a forward look."

For two hours Paul discussed "Liberty" and "License." In the end he accepted the candidacy to run for mayor against Halliday.

Meanwhile, the seventh "Ship," colors flying, had sailed into port, — and still lingered in Stillwater. The hatred for Paul, smolder- ing in Hall's heart since the days, four years ago, when gay little Gail Halliday had preferred the attentions of a penniless boy to those of the governor's son, burst into flame almost unbearable. Hearing that Paul Reid would run for mayor against Halliday, the governor's son made a quiet investigation; and discovering that to all appearances Reid was to be an exponent of the lawless, Edward Hale, under cover, stood like a financial rock behind fierce campaigning for Reid.

One day two illicit dealers in liquor were convicted; and the mayor commissioned Paul to locate the distillery. For the third time Paul went to Pete Cooper.

"You are in the danger zone for sure now, Pete. Certain people think you own a still."

"Who, for instance?"

"For instance — I do."

"Old Pete ain't afraid o' you-all, sonny."

"You have cause to fear."

"You-all do take a powerful interest in the old man."

"I'm fond of you — you know that; I don't want to see you sent up."

Cooper narrowed his black eyes and studied Paul.

"Where do you-all think the still you was speaking of is located?" he asked.

"Right here," Paul replied.

"You-all are free to search."

Cooper thrust a lighted lantern into Paul's hand, and began showing him the ins and outs of his house. Reid peered into every crevice. He explored the grounds and out-houses. From across a rickity pole fence, his own former home scowled with cob-webbed and

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boarded windows. He found not the slightest evidence of a still on the Cooper premises.

Hurrying homeward up the dark path toward the town, the young man heard a voice call softly: "Paul" and Elsie stepped into the open.

"I want to tell you something," she said.

"What is it, Elsie?" Paul asked.

"It's a bad gang that's behind you, Paul. They don't care for you, really. They chose you because you are young and they think they can run you."

"You mean run the bootlegging, don't you?" said Paul.

"Chiefly," the girl replied. She looked at him with harassed eyes. "I love my father — but I am your friend, too. You see, I haven't forgotten the old days either. If my father's friends were only different!"

"Many of the men in your father's gang are not really bad — just mistaken and unenlightened. Don't worry, Elsie; my eyes are not entirely closed. And I thank you."

As they walked back down the dark path they chatted mostly of Elsie's father. The girl wondered about Gail and Paul; her heart was full of inquiries but she voiced only trivialities. She would not allow Paul to come closer to her home because of her father.

When Elsie had gone back into the house, Paul noiselessly climbed the pole fence which divided his old home from Pete's. Stealthily he made a circuit of the deserted place, examining the boarded windows. Both doors were firmly locked. The glass was broken from a small back window, and a board was nailed across it. He tugged at the board until he loosened and finally removed it. Then with difficulty Paul crawled through the small opening into the room. Groping about in the darkness he discovered that an old piece of carpet covered the center of the small room. Rolling this back, he located the trap door leading to the cellar. He crept down the creaky stairs, closing the lid above him. Here he dared to strike a match. A stone crock sat on a bench; in one of the corners, upon the floor were some bottles, a pan, and a large wooden spoon; in another corner of the ill-smelling place was a still. The law-breakers were bold, for the deserted cabin was no-man's-land.

Then Paul did a queer thing. Having once more crawled through the small window, he noiselessly carried bucketfuls of water from the pump and saturated the old pole fence and Pete's barn. Crawling back into the cabin, he poured a bottle of the moonshine upon the rug and threw a lighted match upon it. The old Reid cabin burned to the ground.

In the morning the sunshine streamed into the cellar, revealing the blackened still only partially destroyed.

Old Pete was furious. He telephoned Paul to come and see the ruins of his erstwhile home.

"Is this a sample of your law?" he asked.

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"A man can drive a nest of serpents out of his own house if he pleases," Paul retorted.

So it spread about town that Paul Reid had set fire to the dis- tillery.

That same day the mayor sent for Paul.

"You are bungling things like a two-year-old," he complained. "Why didn't you watch the place and catch the thieves?"

Paul had no reasonable explanation, and the indignant mayor accused him of protecting Pete's coterie because they were pushing him for mayor. Halliday's words burnt like a flame.

Ill-luck was pressing hard upon Paul, for within an hour he received a message from Elsie Cooper to meet her without fail at nine o'clock that night where the Stillwater road runs into the trail lead- ing to the Hollow.

At nine o'clock, as Paul reached the lonely spot, Elsie stepped out of the black shadow of the trees.

"They're laying for you, Paul," the girl said. "They've got it in for you for burning that shack. You must carry a gun; if you don't your life isn't worth that." She snapped her strong fingers, and the report sounded loud on the still air.

"Why do you put yourself out so bravely to befriend me, Elsie?" Paul asked. The girl looked at him with drawn face.

"I am so miserable, Paul. Don't you think I know how you have had to fight to rise above the Hollow? I'm a girl; I couldn't rise — I didn't have the nerve. But you — oh, Paul, you are wonder- ful! And I — I love you for it!"

Reid stared down into Elsie's taut face. There was something unreal, ghost-like about her, swaying in the darkness. Suddenly she burst into tears. "I am very weak and very wretched!" she moaned. He placed his arm about her, attempting to comfort her. Finally her weeping became less violent. Neither of them noticed an automobile which rounded the curve and came straight towards them. The driver saw the pair and slowed down. Reid took a step away from Elsie, then stood gazing into the searching white light, which so blinded him that he did not recognize the occupants. They were Gail Halliday and her still-loitering seventh "Ship."

"Your hero, my lady!" derided Edward Hall.

"Mr. Reid has business which takes him into the Hollow at all hours," defended Gail.

"Do you know why he didn't catch Pete Cooper instead of burning his still?" asked Hall.

"No."

"It's quite commonly known in town. Of course, it would not reach your ears, but Reid is in love with Cooper's buxom Elsie."

So the morning mail brought Paul the following letter: "We agreed long ago that if one of us came to care for another, that one was to let the other know. I at least have enough honor to comply with

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that sincere agreement. This evening I became engaged to the son of Governor Hall."

It was the eve of election. Worn out with campaigning and heart-sick with disappointment, Paul broke away from the crowd, and taking the path which led to the cemetery, climbed the quiet hill back of Stillwater. How small was the settlement below! For so little gain had he given his best efforts! Somewhere in the big world beyond Stillwater surely there was a corner where an earnest man would be welcome. Elsie loved him; she was weary of the Hollow and its willfulness. He would take her — somewhere; together they would forget Stillwater.

As he entered the small city of the dead, Paul felt that his portion was a bitter cup. He thought of the night of his return from the law school with his faith in Gail supreme. Now he bowed his head in utter anguish. ~ There was not the ghost of a chance of his being elected on the morrow, for he had lost out with both parties: men were puzzled as to where he stood in regard to the liquor question; Mayor Halliday thought him a fool. If love survives the barrier called death, surely his mother, who had known so much earthly sorrow, yearned to help him. If wrong-doing laid an iron hand on innocent off-spring, surely right-doing held a torch of inspiration. To the God of things called "clean" Paul begged for vision and strength. The day's dying light tinted the still little lake which gave the town its name. A few stars shone faintly. Below in the town, lights began to flicker here and there. Suddenly strains of martial music, softened by the dis- tance, broke the silence of earth and skies. Paul's eyes kindled, for from that quiet grave and the God of things "clean," a light had come, and his being was permeated with strength: rather would he suffer utter loneliness than desecrate the emotion he felt for Gail by accept- ing a lesser love; never could he desert a cause so long as it was right. He hurried) down the path to the town; and forgetful of not having eaten since morning, made his way to the town hall, on the steps of which the band was now playing, "There'll be a hot time in the old town to-night."

Like many another such building, Stillwater's town hall served many purposes. It was the only structure of the town which could accommodate a large crowd, and the up-stairs was often used as a theatre, across the center of which were folding doors, which made possible two spacious rooms. Tonight the doors were closed and both rooms were filled with people. Someone was making a speech on his left, but his own meeting had not begun. Perhaps his absence had delayed it. Hurrying to the entrance, he recognized Edward Hall as the speaker on the other side. Paul heard: "Can you afford to vote for such a man, fellow citizens, — a man who sprang out of the dirt of the Hollow? A man who has neither the taste to appreciate, nor the sense to enforce clean measures?"

"Then will you-all tell us why you spent three thousand dollars

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and up'ards campaigning fer him?" broke in a strident, unsteady voice. Paul pushed through the crowd and gained the doorway. Pete Cooper stood in the isle near the folding doors. Fires smoldered in his blood-shot eyes; his face was crimson; he stood unsteadily.

"Put the derelict out!" called the governor's son.

"No, you-all won't put me out," yelled Cooper, shaking an unsteady fist. "I'm just asking a civil question: Why do you spend money on a man and then throw mud at him?"

Evidently Pete had had a lapse of memory in regard to "keeping still."

"Open the folding doors and shove him in where he belongs!" shouted Hall.

"You-all won't shove me out o' here, young felleh," retorted Cooper, making a zig-zag but progressive way up the isle to the plat- form. "You-all didn't give us that money, huh? You turn-coat, you!"

"Shut up!"

"You want to silence me, eh? I got witnesses; I "

Hall raised his fist and took a step down from the platform. Above the murmuring, exclaiming, and general noise of the excited people, Paul Reid's voice rang clearly from the doorway: "Mr. Hall." Edward Hall shot him a glance from lowering eyes. "Mr. Hall, may I remind you that Mr. Cooper is an old man, — and he's drunk."

"Then take him in where he belongs," shouted Hall.

"You-all said it, sonny," said Cooper, turning himself around with the help of the railing of the platform steps and beginning