The Sego Lily
T
HE Utah state flower, the sego lily, bears the scientific name Calochortus Nuttalli. The genus name Calo- chortus is derived from two Greek words, Kalos, beautiful, and Chortus, grass, in allusion to the flower and its grass- like leaves. The species name Nuttalli is in honor of the great American botanist, Thomas Nuttall (1786-1859), who did much to inform the world of the beauty of this gem of the American desert.
The common name "sego" is of Indian origin and should be pronounced sego and not sago, as one often hears. It was from the Indian that the Mormon pioneers learned of the great value of the sego as an article of food and indeed this plant often served in these famine years of the early settlement of Utah as manna from heaven.
The sego is strictly a western genus, there being about thirty species, and our state flower ranges from the Black Hills of South Dakota to New Mexico, and westward to California. California is particularly rich in species of Calo- chortus. There these flowers are known as Mariposa lilies.
The sego lily was selected as and declared to be the state flower of Utah, March 18,1911. It was the popular choice of the school children throughout the state, who recognized in this flower an object of rare beauty common to every sagebrush hill of the state and at the same time a plant that lent strength to determined souls dedicated to the task of empire building.
A description of the sego lily should be as superfluous to a child of the desert as a word picture of a western sunset. To every son of a pioneer it is something sacred, a living. emblem of purity and strength.
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THE IMPROVEMENT ERA
Heber J. Grant, Editor
Harrison R. Merrill, Managing Editor
Elsie Talmage Brandley, Associate Editor
Volume 37
JULY, 1934
Number 7
EDITORIALS
June Conference in Relief -H. R. Merrill 416
What Brand Patriotism? H. R. Merrill 417
ARTICLES
Frontispiece . H. R. Merrill 386
Charles A. Callis Bryant S. Hinckley 387
International Conferences Pres. J. Reuben Clark 393
Reminiscences of Charles W. Nibley By Himself 396
Glasses, What Do They Mean? Medical Staff B. Y. U. 399
The Mormons and the Mountains - Vesta P. Crawford 400
The Kingdom of God Nephi Jensen 405
When Rags Were Precious Rachel G. Taylor 406
Flags of the Confederacy Lucie A. Ferguson 409
The Oxford Groups at Close Range C. Frank Steele 410
The Lord Overrules Joseph F. Merrill 413
Ogden's Hole Andrew Jenson 414
Our Historical Insect Foe Elsie Hoffman Buchanan 418
Through the Birches Mae Huntington 424
FICTION
Turquoise Taffeta Alice Lee Eddy 390
One Saturday Edna W. Sloan 398
A Quest Josephine Dahl 412
POETRY
389 392 397 403
Grandma's Birthday . William Thompson
A Tree and I William Sykes
Thoughts jl * Lars H. Mortensen
Water Oscar H. Roesner
Homes of the Pioneers Clara Aiken Speer 407
For the Dark Stranger . Ardyth Kennelly 415
Coin of the Realm Clarence Edwin Flynn 415
Sacrament M. J. Cole 415
In a Garden Rosannah Cannon 415
Just Dog .. Ranee Wilcox 415
Dry Farm Andrew M. Andersen 415
Shadows Herbert H. McKusick 415
Under the Hollyhocks Mabel West Lillie 415
Grand Canyon Maud E. Uschold 415
Memory Melodies Fay Cram 420
Contrast . Helena May Williams 433
Elegy Edith Welch 441
Reward Billie B. Cooper 44 2
DEPARTMENTS
Lights and Shadows on the Screen 425
Glancing Through 426
Ward Teaching 428
Aaronic Priesthood 429
June Conference Flashes - - 431
M. I. A. Accomplishments During Month of April 434
Your Page and Ours , Inside Back Cover
NEW AUTHORS
421 421
421 421 421
Charity . Eldred Knight
My House For You Birdice Crouch
| My Boy ; Leone Rose 421
'Why Should We Look on Death as Sad James J. Casto 421
Welcome I Paula Bloomfield 421
Answer , Betty Wall
Beauty .... Billie Clarke
To the Southern-Arizona Pioneer Minnie Seaver
As Little Children Leone Rose 422
A Parable The Dreamer 423
|A MAGAZINE FOR EVERY MEMBER OF THE FAMILY
Organ of the Priesthood Quorums, Mutual Improvement Associations and
Department of Education
Published monthly by the GENERAL BOARDS OF THE MUTUAL IMPROVEMENT ASSOCIATIONS
1 Melvin J. Ballard, General Mgr. Clarissa A. Beesley. Associate Mgr. O. B. Peterson, Business Mgr. < George Q. Morris, Katie C. Jensen
Chairmen Era and Publicity
EXECUTIVE AND EDITORIAL OFFICES:
50 North Main Street, Salt Lake City, Utah Copyright, 1932, by the Young Men's Mutual Improvement Association Corporation of the Church of Jesus Clirist of Latter-day Saints. .-Ill rights reserved. Subscriptidn price, $2.00 a year, in advance; 20c a Single Copy.
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, 1917, authorized July 2, 1918.
386
'WH
■jsiar
"ENTERING THE VALLEY," BY J. B. FAIRBANKS
J
B. FAIRBANKS, probably the oldest living Utah ar- tist, was born in Payson, Utah, December 27, 1855. In those days Payson was a village of a few houses on the edge of the Indian country.
Very early in life J. B. manifested a love of art and music. He recounts that among his mother's prized possessions were two pictures — a steel engraving of Rosa Bonheur's "Horse Fair" and a print of the home
Frontispiece
were selected by the Church to go to Paris to study art in order that they might serve as deco- rators of the various temples that were under contemplation. They entered the Acad- emy Julean in 1890, where they studied under Jules Levebru, Benjamin Constant, and Jean Paul Lawrence. J. B. studied landscape painting one summer under one of the most famous artists in Paris. When he showed his landscape work to Ben-
of a grandmother in Massachusetts. These pictures jamin Constant, the teacher said: "If you are going he used to look at every opportunity he had as they to be a landscape painter there is no need for you to go
were stored away in a trunk. His handling of them wore them to such an extent that his mother decided they would be safer on the wall, so to the delight of the children, they were brought out and placed where all could see.
When J. L. Townsend went to Payson as teacher in
to school any more — guard against getting in a rut and you will succeed."
Since that time art has filled the life of the pioneer artist who has produced pioneer scenes of beauty and strength. His wheat fields and harvest scenes are many and varied. In them he has caught the genius of the
public schools, he did all he could to encourage the early Utah farm. He has also many canvases like the
interest of young Fairbanks in drawing and art. Mr. one produced here depicting early pioneer scenes.
Townsend also gave some instructions in drawing. Probably due to that early love for the engraving in
When young Johnnie Fairbanks was eighteen, the the possession of his mother, he has produced a magni-
master, John Hafen, moved to Payson and established ficent copy of Rosa Bonheur's "Horse Fair." This
a studio. Fairbanks, a baseball enthusiast, visited the studio and beheld Hafen at work. After that baseball was forgotten and painting became the boy's ambition. One day while at the studio a controversy arose over a drawing and those interested went to Hafen for advice. Mr. Hafen decided the question in Fairbanks' favor to the boy's great delight. Then Mr. Hafen turned to him. "Johnnie," said he, "I want you to paint a picture."
J. B. pondered that in his mind. Secretly he set about copying a picture of a Welsh castle. When it was finished he brought it out. It was so well done that he had a hard time convincing his mother that it was his. When she finally believed, she threw her arms around the young man's neck and as the tears streamed down her cheeks, cried: "John, you are an artist."
Later J. B. Fairbanks, Loris Pratt, and John Hafen
fine canvas was copied from the original while he was in Paris. It now hangs in the offices of the City Com- mission in Provo, Utah, and is worth anybody's effort to see. The writer has seen the original and yet he is able to enjoy again the thrill of the fine work from this copy by Fairbanks.
Mr. Fairbanks is important to the art world in an- other way. He has produced some artist sons who are carrying on the art tradition. Avard Fairbanks, sculp- tor and teacher, and J. Leo Fairbanks, painter and teacher, did the art work for the Church exhibit at the Century of Progress World's Fair Exposition in Chi- cago and both have done some fine things. Some of Avard's sculptored figures have won national acclaim.
J. B. Fairbanks is of the early painters of Utah, but he is still producing. The gold of the harvest, the green of the sage, the love of this great western land are all in his many works. — H. R. M.
387
GREATNESS IN MEN
This story of one who loved Jesus with his whole heart will be appreciated everywhere^ but it will be enjoyed most by those who have come in contact personally with this man of strength and power. Here is one who uloved his fellow men" and has been greatly blessed for it — blessed with the love of all who know him.
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CHAR
S R. CALLIS
By BRYANT S. HINCKLEY
EVERY chivalrous heart de- lights to honor those who conquer the "malice of their fate" through the power of con- secrated endeavor.
For a man whose worldly in- heritance was poverty, whose school days were spent in a coal mine, whose text books were heavy tools, whose daily task was to win bread for his widowed mother — to conquer these adverse conditions and to serve with dis- tinction as a state legislator, to qualify for the bar and to succeed as a lawyer, to preach with per- suasion and eloquence at home and abroad the revealed gospel of the Master, to preside for twenty-five years over one of the great Missions of the Church, to inspire the lives and direct the activities of thou- sands of missionaries and finally to be called to the apostleship is an achievement that challenges the admiration of young and old.
To do this requires not only ability of an unusual order but an unconquerable will arid the capac- ity for prolonged and concentrated effort.
Charles A. Callis is a self made man in the literal meaning of these words. His broad shoulders and strong hands bear indisputable evidence that he has been on in- timate terms with hard work, that he has known first-handed just what the laboring man pays in terms of toil for his daily bread. He speaks with a full and sympa- thetic understanding the language of the laborer.
The school of experience
through which he has passed has given him an intimate under- standing of the plain people and an insight into their problems that few public men have. A man who has worked in a coal mine for twelve hours a day for $2.50 knows the value of a dollar.
.::■■■■ : ::
For the better part of fifteen years Charles A. Callis worked in the mines at Coalville, Summit County, Utah. He knows what it is to come from the pit after a long, hard day and wash the dust and grime from his face, only to repeat it day after day.
ELDER CHARLES A. CALLIS OF THE COUNCIL OF THE TWELVE
LEFT: MRS. CALLIS.
■"THERE may be young men who think the door of opportunity is closed, that there is no chance for them. Not so. Charles A. Callis spent the impressionable years of his life in work that of- fered little opportunity for growth arid culture. Today he stands unabashed in any presence, at home in any society. How did he do it? It is the same dra- matic and inspiring story of strong men rising from humble surround- ings to eminence. The best friend a young man has is not comfort, but the stimulus and challenge that comes from a hard environment, opposition to which awakens his
388
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA, JULY, 1934
; CHARLES A. CALLIS AT AGE OF 20.
GRACE E. PACK AT AGE OF 21 BEFORE HER MARRIAGE.
■■ in maintaining an or- ganization at Echo, 9k which i s located
down the canyon from Coalville. He had no conveyance, this was prior to the days of the automo- • bile, but before he
would allow that as- sociation to fail he walked down and _ #> , back, a distance of ten
miles, once each week, giving the lessons and conducting the meeting. Failure is not writ- ten in the lexicon of Charles A. Callis.
TN September, 1902, he married
Grace E. Pack, an experienced
and successful school teacher, who
is a woman of sound judgment, of
slumbering powers and reveals his hidden re- sources. The strong- est men have not come from cush- ioned lives. Soft surroundings often breed failure.
"Charlie," as he is familiarly called, was born in Dublin, Ireland, May 4, 1865, son of John and Charlotte Quilliam Callis. His father died when Charles was a child. The widowed mother, with her children, moved to Liverpool, where Charles was baptized and confirmed a mem- ber of the Church when he was eight years of age.
Two years later the family, consisting of the mother, two sons and two daugh- ters, left England for Utah. They sailed in the S. S. Dekota, traveling third class "because," as he smil- ingly observed, "there was no fourth class." Their coming was made possible through the Perpetual Emigration Fund — a plan adopted by the Church for assisting people to emigrate to this country.
The Callis family settled first in Bountiful, Davis County, three years later moving to Coalville, Summit County, where Charles made his home until he went to the Southern States on a mission.
In 1893 he was called on a mis- sion to England and while there was made president of the Irish conference. On his return he served as stake superintendent of the Y. M. M. I. A. in Summit stake for nine years. In this service he displayed the qualities of a real leader. Cheerful but determined he faced every obstacle. During .one winter he experienced difficulty
THE CALLIS FAMILY WHEN THEY WENT SOUTH, 1906. THE CHILDREN ARE GRACE AT RIGHT AND KATHLEEN IN CENTER.
superior intellectual endowments, of rare patience and sweetness of character, who knows how to com- fort and encourage a missionary boy far from home.
She has been a constant support and inspiration to her husband in the discharge of his arduous and responsible duties as president of the Mission. She was president of the Relief Society of the Mission for twenty-five years.
This union has been blessed with eight children: Grace (Mrs. Paul Summerhays) ; Kathleen (Mrs. Spencer A. Larson) ; Charles Al- bert and Nephi Quilliam (twins, deceased) ; Josephine (Mrs. Irwin Spillsbury) ; Laura; Paul John, and Pearl.
In 1896 he was elected a mem- ber of the state legislature from Summit County. This was a his- toric session. In those days United States senators were elected by the state legislature. Dur- ing this session the contest for the sena- torship developed one of the bitterest polit- ical fights ever waged in the State of Utah. Fifty-three ballots were cast before a choice was made. There were times when the transfer of two votes would have elected the leading candidate. The most powerful and relent- less pressure was brought to bear upon Representative Callis, who could neither be intrigued nor coerced to cast his vote against his convictions. This contest was so bitter and the influences em-
THE CALLIS CHILDREN
Photo made in Chatta- nooga, Tenn., 1915.
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA, JULY, 1934
389
ployed were so powerful as to test out the moral fiber of every member of the legislature. When these powerful influences concentrated their efforts upon Charles A. Callis they discovered no weak spots. He is sound to the core.
Many of his influential constitu- ents were disappointed in the stand which he had taken with reference to the United States senator and he went from the legislature with the impression that his political career was ended, but solaced with the satisfaction that his conscience was clear, that he had followed without wavering the light of his best judgment. His rugged hon- esty and his unyielding integrity won the confi- dence of friend and foe. Men who could not con- trol his vote developed a wholesome respect for his integrity.
In the representative from Summit County the miners of Utah had a friend. One of Charles A. Callis' first efforts as a legislator was to provide protection for miners and to safeguard their inter- ests. He was instrumen- tal in securing the passage of three measures which have been of practical and permanent value to all coal miners:
The first provided for an examining board which was authorized to grant certificates to those who proved their fitness for the duties of mining boss.
The second provided that where miners are paid by weight suitable scales should be furnished and the coal weighed at the mine so that any subse- quent loss or waste was not charged against the men; and the third, that emergency supplies, in- cluding stretchers, blan- kets, first aid material, etc., should be accessible at every mine where five or more miners were em- ployed.
These measures have resulted in saving the lives of many workmen and in adding thousands of dol- lars to their earnings.
Soon after the adjournment of the legislature, at the solicitation of prominent men in Park City who had watched with interest the career of Charles A. Callis, he ran for County attorney and was elected. He had no academic train- ing, little or no knowledge of the law, in fact no technical prepar- ation for a position of this kind.
T\JOW we get a glimpse of the real man, a revelation of the forces that have made him. He resolutely made up his mind to qualify for his new job. A gigantic under- taking but, without hesitation and in the face of the most stubborn
GRANDMA'S BIRTHDAY
By William Thompson
/"S RANDMA'S here to visit
^-^ And we hope she'll always stay
She is so kind and gentle
And just sixty-five today.
We gave her lovely flowers
And listened to her tales
About an old Professor
Who taught a school of whales.
She always says a little prayer
That God will keep us good, —
Of course, sometimes it's very hard
To do just as we should.
To be as good as Grandma
And loved by everyone,
And have so many birthdays,
Would be such jolly fun.
and discouraging circumstances, he took up the task.
Among his friends was Joseph L. Rawlings, one of the ablest and best trained attorneys in the State of Utah, who mapped out with care a course of study for the newly elected officer. Following this outline Charles Callis made ar- rangement with the County at- torney of Salt Lake County to spend whatever time he could in that office studying procedure under the Utah Statutes. In addition to this he secured the necessary books and went to work and he worked as few men can work.
In eleven months thereafter he took the state bar exami- nation. He describes with emotion his impressions and experiences of that eventful day. There were college graduates and men of experience and legal learning all there for ex- amination. Elder Callis felt keenly his handicaps and approached the task with humility and mis- givings. To the surprise of the examiners, of him- self, and of his friends he made a brilliant showing and passed the examina- tion with distinct credit — in fact he was the only one who received the unanimous vote of the examining board. This was a major achievement. He was now a full- fledged lawyer and for six years served Summit County with distinction as its prosecuting attor- ney. During his law practice he won the con- fidence of his associates at the bar, of the judges on the bench, of his clients and of the people.
In 1906 he was called to the Southern States Mission and, on the re- tirement of Ben E. Rich, became president of that Mission, where he re- mained for a quarter of a century.
AS a missionary and as a Mission president he was pre-eminently suc- cessful. The reason for this is easy to discover when you know the man. (Continued on page 435)
390
TURQUOISE
// ever a person begins to wonder how strong the -power of words can become^ read- ing a story like this one settles his mind. TLmotions are translated into living; thoughts are imbued with reality ; life awakens in the hearts of all who have been asleep to its need for love and tenderness.
THE GIRL LOOKED UP QUICKLY. HER
MOTHER LAID A HANDFUL OF COINS
AND BILLS OF SMALL DENOMINATION
ON THE FADED QUILT.
t
.HERE was enough! There was more than enough! For days the woman had been hugging to her heart the secret knowledge that she had only to send the order now, or better yet, wait until she went to town to be able to see, to touch, to buy it!
All her life the woman had wanted a silk dress, one of lus- trous turquoise-colored taffeta. She
had seen the fabric on her first trip to town, a round-eyed, eager four- year-old. "Oh, Ma," she had gasp- ed, "can I have a dress of that?" "Hush" her mother admonished, but the customer examining the silk had held it up before her ador- ing eyes and said kindly, "You are too little for this now. When you get to be a big girl you can have pretty things like this."
"When you get to be a big girl you can have pretty things like this" — it had rung through her dreams and had been the substance of her hopes for forty years. And she had never had it.
Through her girlhood she had dreamed that perhaps her wedding dress — but the soft gray mohair, with touches of lace and ribbon, which was beautiful as well as
\
TAFFETA
391
By
practical, had been so much more suitable. She had married a good man, thrifty and just, but hard, and he handled all the money for his household. The woman ac- cepted this fact without resentment, but the coins which occasionally found their way into her hands she secretly saved for the dress. She had started saving them in her bridal days, putting the coins into a box under the prim white tea- towels in a cupboard drawer, in a candy box with a cover as bright and gay as her hopes.
Twice during the long years, she had emptied the box, both times for her daughter, Fanny. The first time she had used the money to buy a white muff with little black bears' heads on it which Fanny had wanted with all her eager childish heart. The second time had been when Fanny finished the eighth grade and was chosen to give the valedictory at the county gradua- tion exercises.
All her classmates, inappropri- ately enough, had chosen to wear white satin beaded pumps, which Fanny's father had felt he could not afford to get for his daughter. The child's disappointment had been so real and so bitter that when they had gone to the county seat the day of graduation the woman had bought the slippers. As they had passed the silk counter in the big store something almost like a sob had escaped the woman, but Fanny had not noticed in her joy in possessing the desired footwear, with more and shinier beads on their satin vamps than any she had seen. She had been a little ashamed when in the place of a coin purse, her mother had counted out the money from a pasteboard box, its once bright cover faded and shabby.
Refilling the box each time had been a heartbreaking task. The woman had been resolute, how- ever, and kept the box in the cup- board, adding to it when she could. At last she had succeeded. There was enough.
With warning sharpness, her mind focused on the conversation
ALICE LEE EDDY
about her. "Pa," Fanny was say- ing as she helped 'side-up' the sup- per dishes, "don't you think it would be nice if I could teach next year?
Her father only grunted.
"I could get this school out here so I'd be home to help Ma eve- nings and I'd get sixty dollars a month."
"You can't teach with just a high school certificate."
"If I went to the A. C. to sum- mer school this term I could."
"That's out of the question. You don't need to teach, anyway."
"But I want to! I want to sup- port myself and do things. I don't want to be tied down to a desolate old farm like Ma. Please Pa, it would take only fifty dollars."
"I'd like to see you go to any summer school on fifty dollars!"
"Oh, yes, I could Pa. I've got a scholarship so I don't have to pay tuition and there's a lady down there who will give me my board and room if I help with the house- work. Manda Smith stayed there last year. All I need is just a little money for my ticket and books and things like that. I could do it on less than fifty if I had to. Please Pa!"
"You ought to stay home and help your Ma."
"Ma won't care if I go. Please Pa, just lend me the money."
"You know what prices are this year, Fanny. Fifty dollars looks as big as five hundred just now."
Fanny was desperate. "I think you're awful! I just ask you to help me a little bit so I can earn my own way. After I have the scholarship and all I can't bear to give it up for a few extra dollars. It isn't fair ! You never have given me things I've wanted!"
"You got a muff and some white
slippers that you wanted," cut in her mother tonelessly.
"Yes, twice in my whole life, and see what other girls have. Besides that wasn't Pa. He could let me go to college if he only would. If it was harness or binder twine he'd get the money quick enough." In a storm of tears she went to her room.
"I'm sorry," said her father, looking at the woman apologetic- ally, "But you know we can't af- ford it," and he took his pipe and went out to the back step for his evening smoke.
1HE woman went on clearing the table automatically. There was a resentful gleam in her eyes and her lips twitched nervous- ly. She put the last dish away and started determinedly for the back door. The sound of sobbing cut through the summer stillness. The woman stopped suddenly. With a hopeless little sigh she turned and walked slowly across the room. Her head drooped dejectedly and her eyes were dry and dull with defeat.
Fanny was lying face down- ward on her bed and she did not move as her mother shuffled in.
"Fanny, could you do it on twenty-one dollars?"
The girl looked up quickly. Her mother laid a handful of coins and bills of small denomination on the faded quilt.
"Oh, yes," Fanny hardly could believe her eyes. "Can I go, then? Where did you get it, Ma?"
"I've been saving it."
Fanny had never been so happy. "Oh, Ma, I'll pay it all back to you as soon as I get to teaching. It's wonderful of you, Ma."
"Never mind. I know what it means to you," said her mother.
"I'll phone for the Wells' to take me in to the train with them in the morning. Oh, Ma, I'm so hap- py!" and she danced into the parlor to telephone the good news to her friends.
The woman returned to the kitchen. From the cupboard
392
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA, JULY, 1934
drawer she took out the empty box, a catalogue with some of the pages marked, and a handful of samples, raveled and faded with age. Her hand shook a little as she lifted them, but she crossed to the stove and raised the lid steadily. One by one she dropped them in. There was a bustling roar, a flash of flame, and then just a heap of gray embers. She was too old for a gay color like turquoise, and she never went anywhere to wear a silk dress anyway. She went out and sat beside her husband on the step.
The sun had just set in such glory as only the bleak west- lands see. The harsh browns and yel- lows were muted by purple shad- ows and the western sky was flam- ing with gold and crimson. Even the stolid man was impressed. "Pretty night," he commented.
The woman beside him was not looking at the sunset. She was gazing at a patch of deep, vivid blue sky overhead. "I love it," she said simply, and added softly to herself, "it looks like turquoise taffeta."
1HAT fall the woman drooped. Fanny noticed it when she came home from summer school. She had made a splendid record at school and that, coupled with the last minute resignation of the regular teacher had won her a position in the Canfield schools, a rare opportunity for an inexperi- enced teacher. "I almost wish I hadn't taken this school after all," she told her mother, "I think you need me here."
"Nonsense," said her mother. "It's wonderful to get a start in Canfield. We're right proud of you, Fanny. Your Pa is too."
"I know," said Fanny, "it's just his way, I guess."
With the first snow flurry, the woman fell ill. Fanny, rushing home with a doctor and an am- bulance, whisked her away to the Canfield hospital. Even then the man was totally unprepared for the telephone call, Fanny's voice shak- ing with worry and fear saying, "Come quick, Pa, Ma's dying." There was a dull silence. "Pa, Pa, I said—."
"I heard you. I'm coming." Fanny met him at the hospital. "She doesn't seem to be making any fight to get well," she told him. "She's listless. We must rouse her, make her want to recover. I've
brought the money she loaned me," she displayed a handful of bills. "Pa, what was it Ma always wanted; what was she always sav- ing for?"
"Why, I didn't know that she — ."
"She kept it in an old candy box. I remember she bought my graduation slippers with it, and the summer school money took it all. If I knew what it was for I'd go buy it and take it to her but since I don't I've brought the money."
"Ma always had what she needed."
"Oh, of course it wasn't some- thing she needed!"
The nurse beckoned them and they entered the quiet, sunny room. The woman opened her eyes, but gave no other sign of welcome. Fanny spread out the money on the bed. "See, Ma, here's the money you loaned me. You* must get well right away and spend it."
"You keep it," the words were little more than a whisper, "for your marriage."
"Marriage," exclaimed Fanny with suppressed violence, "As if I'd marry!" She looked at her father. "You try," her eyes commanded.
The man cleared his throat. He moistened his Hps with his tongue. "Sure need you on the ranch, Ma. Them turkeys, now — " he realized from Fanny's horrified expression that he was doing very badly, but a light that was almost a smile,
A Tree and I
By 'William Sykes
I" STOOD one day beneath a tree. ■*■ Thought I, What fools we mortals be. To struggle on through grief and pain, And search for happiness in vain. This tree which stands so straight and tall, It suffers not nor fears a fall. With lifted arms it stands for years. And does not see my foolish tears.
Still sad at heart I went away. Thought I, In distant lands I'll stay 'Til time has played its promised part And healed me of my aching heart. But love like mine could never die As long as hope still hovered nigh. And though I cried that hope was gone 'Twas all in vain, love lingered on.
So home I came and found that she Had suffered too, because of me. How strange that in one fond caress I found a world of happiness! With change of heart I stood once more Beneath the tree I viewed before. How sad, thought I, with sympathy, I pity now this lonely tree.
flickered for an instant on the woman's face.
"All right, Pa," she said.
The doctor told them that eve- ning the crisis was passed. Next morning the patient was holding her own and continued to rest easy throughout the long day. By the next day the improvement though slight was definite and the man returned to his home.
He kept remembering the things Fanny had said, her passionate, "As if I'd marry." She must think Ma had had a hard time. Surely he had been a good husband. He had meant to be. They hadn't had much luxury but they had always had what they needed. Yet how scornfully Fanny had ex- claimed, "of course it wasn't some- thing she needed!" Fanny was young; she always wanted some foolish bauble, but Ma was sensi- ble. She knew the value of a dollar and what it meant in hard work. Frugality and hard work had put them where they were, land free from debt and enough savings to pay all these hospital bills. Ma never complained or asked for fool- ish things. It was just another notion of Fanny's. He would brush his hands across his eyes and dismiss the whole matter, but it would return. He kept seeing Fanny's scorn, hearing her voice. Sometimes he stopped working and stood for minutes at a time, a bewilderment shining in his eyes.
I-
.T was a long, lonely time for the man, but finally the day came for the woman's return. She seemed in fine spirits. "See Pa," she greeted him, "Fanny had my coat made over with a new fur collar. It's just like a new one — ."
"And we're going shopping," announced Fanny. "I'm going to buy Ma a silk dress and a new hat. If you want to make a contribu- tion, Pa, we could get new shoes too."
The man produced a five dollar bill.
"Oh, we won't need that much for shoes," said the woman.
"Never mind," said Fanny gaily, "there won't be any change."
There was though, and the woman returned it to him when she displayed the purchases — new hat, new shoes, a silk dress of heavy blue crepe.
{Continued on page 436)
393
PRESIDENT J. REUBEN CLARK, JR., A DELEGATE FROM THE UNITED STATES
PART III
RNATIONAI
CONFERENCES
The Why and the How
By PRESIDENT J. REUBEN CLARK, JR.
In this, the third and concluding installment of the in- teresting discussion of "International Conferences," President J. Reuben Clark, Jr., takes the readers of the "Era" behind the scenes and acquaints them with the mechanics of manag- ing and participating in these august gatherings. From the glimpses given we get a very good idea as to what such words as diplomacy and politics really mean.
ON the day following the "inaugural session" the First Plenary Session of the Conference was held in the same place with the same machinery of publicity, press men, "movies," "talkies," camera men. Now the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Uruguay, Dr. A. Mane, took his place in the presiding officer's chair and delivered his speech of welcome to the delegates representing the sovereign countries so present at the Conference. When Dr. Mane finished his address the Secretary of State of the United States arose and moved that His Excellency, Sr. Dr. Alberta Mane, Minister of Foreign Affairs of Uruguay, should be the President of the Conference. This was put to a vote by the gentle- man up to that time acting as Secre- tary of the Conference, and carried.
Under the parliamentary pro- cedure obtaining in such Confer- ences, the presiding officer of the Conference specifies the main Com- mittees or Commissions and names the chairmen thereof. The ordi- nary method followed to do this is as follows: the President of the Conference announces that, unless there be objection, such-and-such a committee will be formed, with
such-and-such jurisdiction and duties, and that so-and-so will be the chairman thereof. He pauses, very momentarily, and then com- pletes the announcement with the statement that no objection being heard, it is so ordered. The ob- jecting delegate would need to be indeed "fast on his feet" if he beat the presiding officer in his announc- ing. This procedure is followed until the Conference is fully organ- ized. The President then names the hours and places of meeting of the various committees so formed by him.
When the different commissions or committees meet, their respective chairmen proceed just as the Pres- ident of the Conference proceeded. He specifies the subcommissions or subcommittees to be organized, de- fines the jurisdiction of each, and designates the membership of each by States (not by individuals) . For example, he announces that the committee will be composed of delegates from the United States, Paraguay, Uruguay, Brazil, Mexico and Haiti, and that its jurisdiction, duties and functions will be those which he names. It is left for the head of each delegation from each country so named to designate the particular national delegate who shall serve on each particular sub- committee.
At Montevideo the subcommit- tees were sometimes formally or- ganized; others did their work by informal conferences with no one in charge. Where formally organ- ized, a subcommittee would have a chairman and a Ponente, (the French call him the Rapporteur) . When they perform their functions fully, the Ponente is the most powerful man in any subcommittee or commission; for it is his duty and right to listen to the various discussions and proposals that take place and that come before the com- mittee or subcommittee, and then to draw what he considers to be the conclusions reached as a result of the committee's discussions. In theory and practice, the report of the Ponente is rarely changed, so it is quite within his power really to determine what the action of the committee shall be.
AS the foregoing shows, the plan works this way. The Pres- ident of the Conference creates the committees, defines their work and jurisdiction, and appoints their re- spective chairmen, without really consulting the Conference. The chairmen of the various committees divide the work of their respective committees among subcommittees, which they create, specifying their work and their jurisdiction, and
394
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA, JULY, 1934
naming their chairmen; while the chairmen of the subcommittees name the Ponentes, whose powers are as indicated above. Thus any president so minded can completely dominate the work of every sub- committee and committee of the Conference. This was not done at Montevideo, but the American delegation to the Second Hague Conference (1907) complained bitterly of the autocratic procedure used there. Furthermore, in Eu- ropean conferences, where the con- ference is called by one power, and held in the capital of another, it has by courtesy been frequently considered desirable that the presi- dency of the conference should go to the nation calling it. It has been suspected that in some cases at least, a nation, seeing the drift of international opinion and that a conference would be called (per- haps in relation to matters it would really have preferred not to dis- cuss) , has itself called the confer- ence in order that under the fore- going procedure it should be able to direct the deliberation of the conference and control its action.
The work of a conference or- ganized as outlined above is about as follows:
The subcommittee, to which is assigned any given subject, investi- gates, discusses the subject or sub- jects assigned to it, using a Ponente, if it wishes, for the formulation of the results. It reports its con- clusions to the full committee, (of
which it is a subcommittee) in a plenary session of that committee. The full committee in turn re- ceives the report, considers it, de- bates it, and adopts, amends, or rejects it. The committee then takes the matter to the full Confer- ence in plenary session, which in turn (after discussion) rejects, amends or adopts it.
The final work of the Confer- ence frequently takes the form of declarations, resolutions, votes of thanks, conventions and treaties. A part or all of these may be em- bodied in a Final Act of the Con- ference, which is signed by the powers at the end of the Confer- ence. Provision is usually made that any powers not attending or not signing at the closing of the Conference, may sign or "adhere" later.
It frequently happens that, for one reason or another, some power may not approve of all or of part of a declaration, resolution, or treaty adopted by the Conference. In such cases, such a power usually makes a declaration or "reserva- tion" setting out its position, and it may do this, first, when the mat- ter comes before the subcommittee for action, next when it is sub- mitted to the committee, and lastly when the matter comes before the whole Conference. Furthermore, the signature by that power of the Final Act, or of the treaty, will normally be accompanied by a formal statement, made a part of
LAST PLENARY SESSION OF CONFERENCE
the formal record, of its objections or "reservations" to the instrument involved.
T'HERE should be mentioned here, another committee not ordi- narily falling within the work out- lined in the Agenda, which at Montevideo was called the Com- mittee on Initiatives, or, in our parlance, a "steering committee." This committee is made up of the Chiefs of Delegations. Its work is to eliminate proposals it is not desirable to bring before the Con- ference, to delimit other matters that should go to the Conference, but only when so delimited, and to shape broad lines of policy for the work of the Conference, indeed, "to steer" the Conference. At the Montevideo Conference this com- mittee on more than one occasion saved the Conference, particularly on the side of its international eco- nomic work, for one of the powers had brought forward a plan which, if pushed, might have proved an insurmountable obstacle to the suc- cessful completion of the other work of the Conference.
All conferences have their great dramatic moments. The Monte- video Conference had at least three, two related to the war in the Cha- co, between Bolivia and Paraguay, and the other involved the United States.
The war in the Chaco has been going on for several years. Ef-
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA, JULY, 1934
395
forts to stop it, by the United States alone, by the United States and other American powers, and by the League of Nations, had been unsuccessful. It was waging at the very doors of the Conference. Sec- retary Hull determined wisely and humanly, that something must be done to end it. Beginning with a statement as the delegation touched at Rio de Janeiro (Brazil) on its way south, and continuing during the early days of the Conference, Secretary Hull pressed forward a relentless campaign for peace in the Chaco. As a result of persistent and increasing pressure, led by the Secretary, the two belligerents signed, in the third week of the Conference, an armistice to last till the first of the year. The Con- ference appointed a special sub- committee of the First Commission to deal with the Chaco problem.
At the first plenary meeting of the First Commission — presided over by the Chilean Minister of Foreign Affairs, Dr. Cruchaga — after the signing of the armistice, a flood of fervid, congratulatory, and grateful oratory burst forth that would be difficult to match. As this was an ordi- nary meeting of the First Commis- sion, this outburst had not been an- ticipated and so "the big shots" were not in attend- ance. Indeed, so unexpected was it that the head of the Paraguayan delegation, D r. Justo Pastor Ben- ites, Minister of Foreign Affairs of Paraguay, was not in attendance at the meeting, and did not arrive un- til many had spoken, including the head of the Bolivian delegation, Dr. Casto Ro- jas. The Paraguayan took the floor almost immediately after he entered the chamber and delivered an impassioned, though tempered, oration that left many of his hear- ers in tears, and that will never be forgotten by anyone who heard it.
In the course of his oration, he paid a tribute to Bolivia that brought Dr. Rojas again to his feet in an appreciative reply.
The occasion brought the repre-
sentatives of the press streaming into the chamber and filled the gal- leries with spectators.
A SECOND dramatic afternoon marked the discussion before a plenary session of the Second Com- mission, when the subcommittee charged with the matter gave its report on the "Rights and Duties of States." This report — in the form of a draft convention — was obviously aimed at the United States and its policy of attempted and intended helpfulness in the region of the Caribbean. For two hours the delegation of the United States sat and listened to an out- burst of criticism, some misrepre- sentation, and much misinterpre- tation, which probably no member of the American delegation would seek to pass through again. The criticism came principally from the small Caribbean states. One of the American delegates observed to the head of the Latin American dele- gation, on the evening of the same day, that this had been one of the great days in history, a unique day, for it was the first time in history that any great power had sat,
DELEGATES TO THE CONFERENCE
J. REUBEN CLARK, JR.,
EXTREME LEFT
without reply or expressed protest or resentment, and listened to such a welter of critical attack from a group of small states, one of whom owed its very existence to the power under attack, and any one of which or all of them together the power attacked could have crushed as a fly. The American delegate further observed that a hundred years ago that day would have meant war.
■THE third great dramatic incident of the Conference also con- cerned the Chaco situation. It came almost at the end of the Con- ference. The armistice between Bolivia and Paraguay was about to expire; no progress had been made towards peace; the Bolivians were accusing the Paraguayans of bad faith and breach of the armis- tice ; the Paraguayans had evidently the upper hand in the operations, and their army, a long way from home, apparently unwilling to be robbed of the fruits of victory, were seemingly somewhat out of hand of the Paraguayan Gov- ernment; the Paraguayan dele- gation was just a bit on the de- fensive; the bitter hatred, born of years of war, were flaring up into flames from the embers only partly put out by the armistice; the com- mittee of the League of Nations, which had been on the ground making a study, was in Montevideo and cooperating with the Confer- ence in an effort to have the armis- tice extended and peace made. The maximum moral pressure of the whole western hemisphere, and in- deed of the whole organized world through the League of Nations, was being brought to bear upon two tiny belligerents to bring an end of what the world be- lieved was an un- necessary and therefore criminal conflict. But there were some whispers passing around that two of the principal powers at the Con- ference were fur- tively and secretly discouraging peace and fomenting trouble, because their prestige could not tolerate that peace should be made in Mon- tevideo, and not in one of their capitals. Others must not succeed where they had failed.
Accordingly a plenary session of the Conference had been called to receive the Committee of the League of Nations and hear from it a report.
The Chamber was again ablaze
with brilliant lights, the "movies"
and "talkies" were there, the cam-
(Continued on page 437)
396
Reminiscences
o
CHARLES NIBLEY IN HIS FIRST SUIT OF CLOTHES. THEY WERE WOVEN BY HIS MOTHER
FOR several years past when- ever I have told my children incidents of my childhood or early life, which seemed interesting to them, they have often requested that I write them down that they might preserve them. I have de- layed long in doing this, chiefly for the reason that there is so little to record that, to me, seems worth preserving. Yet to the children and their children after them, there is nothing more interesting than the incidents of years long gone by. I was born in the little coal min- ing village of Hunterfield, some eight' miles south of Edinburgh, Scotland, on the fifth day of Feb- ruary, 1849.
My father's name was James Nibley. He was born near Hunter- field about the year 1810, but he himself did not know the exact day of his birth. Of my father's family I know but little. He came from an old Scotch family whose genealogy is traced in the Edin- burgh records for two or three hun- dred years back. They were farmers or what the Scotch called "por tamers" which in some way pertained to the land. Whether this implied an interest in the land I do not know but they were farm- ers in the neighborhood of Ephin- stone, Scotland, for generations back. My father, himself, was a coal miner and had been one for years before I was born. He was
1 CHARLES W. NIBLEY
A man who has risen above the crowdy attained success in many lines and yet has remained true to all the best in his own idealism has many lessons to teach others. Such a man was Charles W. Nibley , late counselor to President Heber J . Grant; and such lessons are woven into the memoirs left by him at his death in December ■, 1931. No member of the Church to which President Nibley gave such great measure of loving service could fail to enjoy the autobiographical glimpses of the boy who was later to be the man. It is im- possible to publish the entire worky much of which was written primarily for his family , but permission to print the section covering early years and those at Wellsville has been given , and it is with grateful pride that this magazine presents to its readers excerpts from the journal of a great man. — Eds.
rather tall and raw boned, promi- nent nose and high cheek bones. His eyes were of pure blue. I should say he was about five feet ten inches tall and would weigh about 165 pounds. He walked with a certain stoop or bend from the lower part of the back, not round shouldered at all, but bent in that way. This, I suppose, in consequence of bending so much while he was at work in the coal mines. His hair was dark brown and very curly.
Of education he had not at all. Could read a little and write im- perfectly but he had a vein of hu- mor and dry Scotch wit, keen and incisive, almost sarcastic at times and yet delivered in such a droll way,- not intended to be sarcastic at all, but which sometimes cut like a two-edged sword. He was a plodder at his work. Was what the Scotch call a "cannymon": in- offensive, quiet, unobtrusive any- where, but a constant worker, plod-
ding quietly along. He was con- tent with little and never aspired to have much or to be much of anything — a quiet, God-fearing, hard working, inoffensive man.
I have diligently searched for all the direct line ancestry of the Nib- leys, and have not been very suc- cessful in finding many of them in the Scotch records. However, all that I have found I have had the work done for in the temple, yet there must be many more whose names will doubtless be recovered in years to come, and I hope my children will see to it that the tem- ple work is done for all relatives not yet discovered.
7W[Y mother was born in the neighborhood of Musseburgh on the 18th of June, 1815. Her maiden name was Jean Wilson. Her mother was a Chalmers. My mother was different from my father in that she was all energy and push and never seemed to tire
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA, JULY, 1934
3-97
of working and scheming to get on in the world. Withal she had pure Scotch thrift and prudence and could save a little money where most other people would almost starve. She was the manager of the family. She had a very strong constitution, well built, though not tall — built for work, and she did work all the days of her life. As a girl, I have heard her tell that she worked in the coal mines before the law prohibited women from doing that class of work. She, with other women or girls, would carry coal on their backs in baskets or "creels" as they called them, from down in the pit up an incline to the pit head. It is inconceivable to us at this day to think of a woman being permitted or obliged to do that kind of work, but the world has moved on rapidly since those days. My mother had brown eyes, brown hair, although she was gray at a very early age. She was more of a religious tem- perament than my father, although he had a vein of true piety running through him, but not of the strong Presbyterian type.
Life was a serious thing with her, an almost desperate thing, in which she had no time for levity or play, but only for work and for prayers and other religious activ- ities. She was denied the consola- tion of even knowing a tune, could not even hum snatches of tunes as she rocked her children to sleep; never could in all her life tell one tune from another, while on the other hand my father was fond of music and song. But for sagacity and thrift my mother was the savior of the family. It was a stern, hard life they had to live — one of unremitting toil and penury but they struggled on never falter- ing and made the best of it.
It was in the spring of the year 1 844 when they had three children, Mary, James and Margaret, that an elder of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Henry McEwan by name, (the father of the numerous McEwans who live in Salt Lake City and Provo at this time, 1912) , came to Hunter- field to deliver his message of glad tidings. He preached on the green near the little house that my par- ents lived in, a house by the way which most of my children have been over to see and take photo- graphs of because I was born in it five years after 1 844. My mother had been brought up a Presbyterian
but could not feel entirely satisfied with that religion. She, therefore, joined the Baptists as being more nearly to her way of thinking but still there was an unsatisfied some- thing in her soul and she after- wards quit the Baptist Church and connected herself with the Congre- gational Society. She attended this meeting on the green, stood and listened to Elder McEwan's ser- mon and drank it all in as though it were living water which was springing up unto everlasting life. In fact she declared many a time and oft that for the first time in all her life her soul was satisfied and she was converted, thoroughly converted by that first sermon. After the meeting was over she went directly to Elder McEwan and asked to be baptized. It all seemed so plain and simple to her, the plan that he had outlined, that without hesitating a moment she wished to become a member of the Church by baptism. He asked her if she had heard of the Mormon people and if she had read any of their works. She answered that she had never once heard of them until that day where she stood through the meeting holding her baby, Margaret, who was about a year old, in her arms during the entire meeting. He stated that he thought it would not be wise for her to be baptized just then but that he would leave some of his tracts with her and she could read them over and study the subject carefully and pray about it also. He stated that if she was of the same opinion when he came back the next Sabbath he would baptize her. She was disappointed in be- ing put off in this way. She want- ed to be baptized then and there and stated after, that she felt a dread to think that if she should die before the next Sunday and had not received baptism she would surely be lost.
QURING the week she read the tracts and was more and more convinced and converted to the truth of the message that the elder delivered. She was so anxious that my father might join in her way of thinking and receive the Gospel too, and yet she was fearful that he might say no and take stand against it, that she hardly knew how stealthily or cunningly to lay the matter before him, for she said, if he did say no, she knew no power would ever be able to turn him.
Consequently she was full of anx- iety to get the matter properly pre- sented to him. So when he would come home from his work in the mines while he was bathing, which consisted in merely washing the main part of the body, including the face and head, in a tub of water, she would read these tracts to him and make such observations con- cerning them in such a way as to try and catch him. To her joy and somewhat surprise also, she heard him say one evening when she asked "What do you think of all this," he answered, "Aye, but it is true." So the next Sunday when Elder McEwan came back they were both ready for baptism and were accordingly baptized.
Speaking of my father's Scotch faculty of not being able to change his mind, I have heard my mother tell that when he was a little boy he had been scolded for doing some- thing or other and would be let off easy if he would only promise not to do it again. But he made up his mind that he would not promise. The man who was offended at him for something and trying to extract this promise from him, after much coaxing and laboring with him finally took him by the heels and threatened to throw him down an old pit that was close at hand, per- haps many hundred feet deep. The man actually took him and held him by the heels, his head down in the pit and told him, "Now I'll drop you down unless you promise you will never do it again." But he never would make the promise, even though he were dropped to his death. So knowing his dispo- sition in this respect she was more than overjoyed when she heard him give his assent to the truthfulness of Mormonism.
My parents had been members of the Church just about five years when I was born. My father was then president of the branch in that village and the meetings of the branch were held in our house. I have heard my mother say that I was a very puny and sickly child with little vitality and that she scarcely expected that I would pull through and live. Indeed I have heard her tell that when I was about two years of age my life was despaired of entirely and she had the grave clothes made already that in case I should die, they were ready for burial; to such an extent did this Scotch thrift show itself forth. (Cont'nued on page 43 7)
398
One
By
EDNA W. SLOAN
Saturday
i
WAS all gooseflesh and shivering as I sat on the railing at the west end of our broad porch and watched the sun peep out from behind rolling, black clouds. Why would that sun begrudge me a little heat? Why wouldn't he look me in the face instead of flirting with me in that coquettish exasperating way? It had stopped raining now but was cold and wet. Inside, the stoves had all been taken down and relegated to the attic for the summer. The house for the last week had looked like the breaking up of winter. All the morning I had belonged to a picked division of Storm Troopers detailed to stuff gunny sacks up the chimneys of the grate fire places and scrape New York gum from under window sills and chair seats, stuck there by the girls both far and near.
Seventeen three-ply carpets had been taken up and beaten, one after the other on the clothes line, turned bright side up and holey side under the sofa (where mother was sure it would never show but it always did) , and tacked down again over fresh-smelling straw. I loved house cleaning time because when the huge bookcases and chest of drawers were pushed out from the walls I could always find my china doll's foot or a button off Ann's charm string, or one of my crystal jacks, or some other lost treasure which had been buried there in a foot of dust for a whole year. I loved Conference time, too, which always followed right on the heels of spring house-cleaning. It was fun to sleep there in a bed on the parlor floor and swipe salt pickles out of a great jar in the cellar with Liz and Mattie Wilson.
Ma said it was funny how spring house-cleaning, a cold spring tor- rent, and Conference always man- aged to hit the trail at the same itime and had a yearly merry-go-
round together every April. But the spring cleaning was the life of the party and just had to be over before Conference began, or so Ma said and Ma knew, being the Emily Post of the period and not guilty of any social errors like not being ready. And this was the last day before Conference. My mother had been up since daylight. She had spent the morning playing hop scotch over her own and other people's children, making a des- perate effort to get through in time to take me to the Warm Springs — where we all went on Saturday to be par-boiled for Sunday whether we needed it or not.
Brother arnold
with his hack and horses had been busy all day dashing up to the Springs (I say dashing, though' Brother Arnold's hack was by no means a Roman Chariot for speed) with other members of Father's family — and was now sleepily waiting on Main Street for our contingent. But I knew Ma would never be through before the hack would be taken to the barn and -I saw my chance for purifica- tion dwindling into the twilight and the new stationery tubs which had just been placed in the wash- house and had drain pipes but no taps. The water had to be carried from the pump near Aunt Louisa's back porch and heated in a big kettle hung in the fire place.
Some Indian squaws had set up their tepee in the back yard and now I could see they were lighting a bonfire. There was such a crowd huddled around it that I knew I had no chance for a ringside seat, but I decided to go down, anyway. So I climbed over the railing, slid down the kitchen roof and ran across the yard. Around the corner of the house I could see that all the nations, kindred, tongues and peo-
ple had congregated on our two big porches. Among them and tower- ing above the rest were twelve large Indian Chiefs with their blan- kets drawn tightly around their bodies — looking as straight and stately as the poplars at the south end of the lot.
The Indians loved my father for his square dealing and big gentle- ness of heart. Evidently, father had been abroad today and had invited every one he met on the street without regard to sex, age, sanity, profession, or strength of marriage ties, to come and have dinner with us. He was now shaking hands with them all and inviting them to stay all night.
INSIDE, the house was bulging with salt risin' bread, black currant pies, feather beds and country cousins. Everything seemed to be ready, everything scrubbed right down to the last fly speck. Through the open door I heard my mother in a languishing voice saying, "Yes — we are cold and a bit crowded — we have not much comfort today, but thank the good Lord we are clean." Then, I was suddenly seized by the hand and dragged in little jerks off to the wash house. My sister, de- tailed to bathe me, had been hunt- ing me for an hour. She had sal- vaged an Indian papoose from the dampness of the wickiup and now had the delicate and wonderful in- tention of giving her a warm bath. She had wanted to put me in first, so I could have clean water, but now she was so cross because she couldn't find me, that she put me and the well-baked dirty little papoose in together. But she washed me first and let me jump out; I was to dry myself, while she did the papoose- — -but just then — something happened. There
(Continued on page 446)
GLASSES
399
What do they
mean
From the Medical Staff and Health Service Brigham Younq University
7
Eyes are precious organs^ priceless in their value to the individual. How carefully we should guard them and bring to their aid — when they need it — helps which science has discovered for them. Head this instructive article by an expert upon whom you may rely.
EYEGLASSES, at first called spectacles, are said to have been invented during the Thirteenth Century. In 1482 there were at Nuremberg skilled spectacle makers. The combina- tions produced at first were clumsy, awkward things to wear; and little improvement was evident until early in the Nineteenth Century, when lighter metal frames were introduced to replace the cumbrous horn or tortoiseshell mountings. Benjamin Franklin is said to have invented the bifocal lens, because he found his life a burden from the fact that, no matter what he wanted to look at, he always had the wrong pair of glasses on! To- day, the making of eyeglasses is both a science and an art—a pro- fession in which marvels are achieved to bless mankind with more perfect and lifelong vision.
Many laymen are afflicted by curious ideas regarding effects of
glasses upon the eyes of those who wear them. Even otherwise intel- ligent people often fall into such error, and suffer consequent penal- ties in lessened vision.
Studies in human anatomy and physiology have shown that hu- man eyes are subject to at least two variations in shape, which have to do with influencing our ability to see. In some the eyeball is shorter than normal, from before back- ward, which results in a condition called far-sightedness or hyperopia. Most babies at birth are somewhat far-sighted, but the condition is not normally extreme, and subsides as the child approaches its teens. In others the eyeball is elongated from before backward, giving near- sightedness or myopia, because of which the person, while able to see close things well, perceives distant objects only dimly.
Marked near-sightedness, or "long eyeball," is a serious condi-
tion in that it favors the occurrence of -glaucoma, a disease which an- nually destroys vision in hundreds of eyes. There is also a tendency for this trouble to occur in suc- ceeding generations of a given fam- ily. Where such is the case, it is not uncommon for one or more to develop what is known as malig- nant myopia, a progressive disease resulting- in blindness, where un- cared for. Excessive reading, espe- cially if done under conditions of poor lighting, may bring myopia to growing children whose eyes were otherwise normal.
ALL near-sightedness tends to grow progressively worse, un- less it is kept properly corrected by glasses. Along with this cor- rection, one should also observe certain important rules of eye hy- giene. Chief among these are:
1 . Never read lying down. This imposes additional strain, and tends to stretch the eyeballs more.
2. Never read in poor light.
3. Do as little close work — reading, etc. — as can consistently be managed. Boys and girls who are near-sighted should not be per- mitted to enter the study of law, of medicine, or of other professions where long hours of close work are demanded. (Continued on page 444)
400
T
MORMONS
and the
HAT have the mountains done for the Mormons? Has the destiny of the Church been magnified by the geo- graphical location of Utah? Any theory of social causation must take into account the effect of environ- ment upon the accomplishments of society. We call this geographic determinism — the direct and evi- dent relationship between the ac- tions of man and his surroundings. The rigorous climate of the Northland carved the mental and physical characteristics of the Scan- dinavians, and the bleak hills of Palestine are sharply etched in the religious philosophy of the He- brews. The settlement of the Mormons in Utah is the story of a people who changed the face of the desert, but in the process were themselves molded by the land.
For the Mormons there was a peculiar significance in the lure of the West. It was a fate forced upon them to be up and away. Only gradually, and at first from necessity, did they become afflicted with the fever of the age — "Go
Photo by W. P. Cottam.
"What have the mountains done for the Mormons?" asks Vesta Pierce Crawford , a native daughter of these valleys. You may not agree with her or — again — you may. We think you will like the article.
West!" But once the fever "took" there was no stopping it. In Nau- voo, when another exodus became imminent, literature describing the "savage lands" was the town's best selling commodity. Newsboys ran the length of Main Street tri- umphantly waving ragged pam- phlets, and any voyager who had sailed the muddy Missouri or ford- ed the Platte was given free "board and keep" at the Mansion House. The insistent voice of the forties was a virus so potent that agricul- tural Nauvoo became within a few weeks one vast wagon factory.
Mormon leaders had many times referred to a Promised Land where "Modern Israel" might find a rich inheritance. It was remembered that the Old Testament abounds
in allusions to the building up of Zion in the everlasting hills, and Joseph Smith had said that "the Saints would continue to suffer much affliction and would be driven to the Rocky Mountains." The Prophet gave specific instructions for outfitting an exploring party which he intended to send into the West:
"Send twenty-five men. Let them preach the gospel wherever they go. Let that man go that can raise five hundred dollars, a good horse and a mule * * * a saddle and a bridle, a pair of revolving pistols, a bowie knife and a good sabre. Appoint a leader and let him beat up for volunteers. I want every man that goes to be a king and a priest. When he gets to the moun- tains he may want to talk with his God."
rPHAT expedition was never as- sembled, but the prophecy came
401
By VESTA P. CRAWFORD
MOUNTAINS
true, and for twenty-two years long trains of wagons creaked steadily over the plains. The travelers came with high hearted adventure, yet they came as Pil- grims, too, who marched to fulfill a foretold destiny. No doubt there was unavoidable mirth when an English weaver was asked to drive six wild oxen propelling a lum- bering wagon over the mountains. And what is there of starker tragedy than the fate of the handcart com- panies who trudged that long way singing: "For Israel must be gath- ered soon and oxen are too slow?" The events of the westward trek and the prophecies of a home in the mountains were preparatory stages to life in the valley. One pioneer upon his arrival in Utah remarked that he was in a mood for loving any "footstool" that meant a stopping place after his long walk from the Missouri River. The Mormons were prepared to love the new land, no matter what its promise, and that is most im-
portant since it formed the basis of an attitude that directed the destiny of the Church.
There has been much speculation regarding the particular part of the West chosen by the Latter-day Saint. Samuel Brannan, who in 1846 sailed around the Horn to the Golden Gate, later rode horse- back over the Sierras and the Ne- vada Desert to tell Brigham Young the glories of California. But particularly after the discovery of gold at Sutter's Fort, the Mor- mons realized that the Pacific Coast, with its rapidly increasing and diverse population, was not the place for them. Their leader had referred the people to Isaiah, wherein it is said: "I will make a man more precious than fine gold; even a man than the golden wedge of Ophir."
What would have happened to the Mormons if they had gone by a more northward route and settled in the cattle country of Montana? Obviously, in a land designated by
nature for a scattered population engaged primarily in stock raising, the closely knit community life of the Mormons could not have de- veloped as it has done in Utah. The soil and contour of the land determine the type of farming and hence the order of family and com- munity life. The Utah village, with its clustered homes and sur- rounding fields was an ideal situ- ation for the growth of a well dis- ciplined family and an integrated social life.
What if the Mormons had trav- eled southward and cultivated the rich valleys of Colorado? There they would have been too near the highway of the plains. Dissimi- larity is attendant upon remoteness, and the Mormon social order, in its early stages, could better expand without the influence, or even the example, of "Gentiles" in their midst. A student of geography has remarked that the location of
MONUMENT VALLEY
Photo by W. P. Cottam.
Hfifc *
1
IS*7- ' „ _ tH
402
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA, JULY, 1934
DANCING IN THE WOODS
South Pass in the Wyoming Rockies not only determined to a large extent the order of the de- velopment of the West but quali- fied and enlarged the destiny of the Mormons. The Rockies are young mountains, geologically speaking. Their skyline is lofty and irregular and passes are few. Theirs is a bold front and they are true barriers. It might be added that the position of the Wasatch canyons also determined which Utah valleys were to be settled first.
("">NCE established, then, what was the effect of the mountains upon the Mormons? In the first place, and no doubt the first re- action, was a sense of security, of walled-in safety. It has been said that "rugged country is the friend of a brave people defending their homeland from conquest. The Greeks held the Persian hordes at Thermopolae because of the con- tour of the terrain. The Chinese are now taking advantage of it in defending Jehol against the Jap- anese aggressors."
The Mormons accepted the ram- parts of the Rockies as a protecting wall. This was the first security they had ever known. It meant a period of respite from outside in- terference, and the importance of this factor in the development of a coherent social order cannot be overestimated. How could our Word of Wisdom, our ideas about marriage and divorce, our law of tithing, and the thought of the Church being of prime importance in our lives; have developed so well
in the face of long continued out- side pressure. When an evergreen tree has attained its time of strength it no longer needs the aspen shade. But protection is good for young growth.
This sense of security was in no small measure due to the phys- ical structure of the Wasatch Range — the cove-like Salt Lake Valley, with mountains on three sides, the protecting peaks, receiving the brunt of wind and storm. The prairie dweller, looking out over level land to a flat horizon, sees far because his view is unobstructed, and yet he has such an intense reali- zation of life's immensities that it is difficult for him to feel indi- vidual safety. But valley people, surrounded by high mountains, know the unique security of a shut- in. place.
The fringe of habitation fol- lowed the ranges of the Wasatch and there were bonds of harmony in the compactly organized villages with their surrounding fields and their roads stretching out to neigh- boring settlements. This physical aspect of unity strengthened the bonds of a common religion. In the immigrant trains were men and women of different races and vary- ing culture. There were the Nau- voo Saints who had become accus- tomed to the moist greenness of the Mississippi Valley ; there were east- ern converts from the coast of New England; there were settlers from the British Isles and the Dutch low- lands. What a Tower of Babel it would have been without the in- fluence of common religious ideals and the chain of mountains to hold the people close. A choir leader in
Photrt by W. P. Cottam,
one of our southern towns once summarized this inner concord: "It's amazing how much music comes out of the desert. Our or- ganist touches the chords of the hills and I beat out the rhythm of the mountains. It takes a mixture of Dutch and Danish, Swedish and Norwegian, German and English voices to make a real surge of music. The meeting house can't hold it all. You ought to hear my 'mixed' choir sing 'Thou hast (Continued on page 445)
MOUNTAIN LAKE
jfiHi
403
W
TER
»
SINGING down canyons and flashing down falls, Free and unhampered, dumb thrall to no duty, Wooing sylph ferns, spraying moss-covered walls, Its reason for being beneficent beauty. Going, swift flowing, No rest ever knowing, Down to where sea or some deep river calls.
Out of rough mountains, away from pine tree,
Swift sweeping current of hurrying river, Proving its worth now in utility,
Goes with great logs to some mill to deliver; Wending, wide bending, Its cool waters blending At last with tossed waves of blue ship-bearing sea.
Hoarded in ditches to moisten parched land,
Carefully tended with hopes high and eager, Seeping so swiftly through thirst-bitten sand, Tinging vast desert with greenness so meager! Turning sands burning And long moisture yearning At length into gardens as hopeful hearts planned.
H. Roesner
Water the plentiful, gift so benign,
Robing the bare earth in fruitfulness, beauty; Singing sea songs in high hills with the pine,
Then sweeping far plainward on mission of duty. Glory threads story From times famed and hoary, A blessing to mankind that's truly divine.
404
The KINGDOM
"Where is the Kingdom of God and how do we enter?" That is a question which we all have asked and which Judge Jensen, out of the store of his wisdom, makes answer.
nLICE was just merging into her teens. She was com- mencing to feel the new in- ner surging urge to dance and play. But she had not yet been initiated into the group of boys and girls who were gleefully playing on the lawn this radiant summer evening. She stood a little apart and looked wistfully at the rhythmic swirl of the other girls and boys.
After a few moments the leader of the group called gleefully, "Come on Alice!" The invitation stimulated Alice's eagerness. With a slight touch of diffidence she ac- cepted the invitation. For a little while she played rather mechan- ically. But in the zestful swing of the game, set to merry laughter, her heart commenced to beat faster. Soon the exhilarating spirit of the group took complete possession of her; and she lost her self -conscious- ness and became utterly oblivious to everything but the intoxicating joy of the game.
As the game increased in in- tensity Alice's heart danced in unison with the rhythm of the playful group. Her spirit was stirred into perfect rapport with everyone regardless of his or her apparel, size, looks, or peculiar mannerisms. In the thrilling swirl she recognized no outward marks of distinction that set apart any of the children as preferable to the others. In fact she was in perfect harmony with every one in the group.
It is a very commonplace in- cident. But like all simple things it gives us an infallible clue to the deepest things of life. The story portrays a unified society in the miniature. In it are all the basic elements of an organized group of sentient beings — organization, gov- ernment and unity of spirit and purpose. In a way these children at play constitute a distinct realm, a kingdom — the kingdom of play.
This little kingdom of play has
two aspects, the individual and the institutional. Alice's personal en- joyment in the game was an indi- vidual affair. It was something within her. Her association with the group which made possible her inner joy was external. It was institutional. She entered the group by a kind of initiation. The one who could speak for the group invited her. She accepted the in- vitation and thus she was lawfully inducted. Without this legal in-
THE INVITATION STIMULATED
ALICE'S EAGERNESS. WITH A
SLIGHT TOUCH OF DIFFIDENCE SHE
ACCEPTED THE INVITATION.
duction she would not have felt at home. She entered the outward or institutional kingdom of play when she was initiated. She entered the actual kingdom of play when the enlivened spirit of play was awak- ened within her. Moreover, when her heart commenced to beat in per- fect unison with the play-spirit of the group, the kingdom of play
was "within her," to use New Testament terminology.
pVERY truly socialized group furnishes exemplification of these simple basic principles. A young man was debating with him- self about entering college. While he was still undecided in his mind about the important step he visited a university. He found a chum performing some interesting experi- ments. The student was so en- grossed in his eager pursuit of truth that he was almost oblivious to his surroundings. The wavering youth noticed the joyous zest that sent his friend in pursuit of new facts. He commenced to feel the inner urge of the real student. Before be left the campus he had selected his course and was registered. In a few days he became completely engrossed in the exalting pursuit of knowledge. This spirit drove him irresistibly onward in the pur- suit of knowledge and skill.
When he registered he was law- fully inducted into the realm of the kingdom of learning. When the real spirit of truth-seeking took possession of him and completely dominated his aspirations the king- dom of learning was "within him."
This young man's experience in entering the "realm" of truth- seeking reveals the same basic ele- ments of a harmonious social struc- ture as found in a group of children at play. He was initiated. He became a part of an organization. He came into rapport with this unified group.
Coordinated play in perfect rap- port with other children is the child's "Kingdom of Heaven." And it is an infinitely beautiful kingdom. Coordinated study in harmonious association with other students is the student's "Kingdom of Heaven." And in its finest as- pects, it is not far from the real heavenly realm of which the Master had so much to say.
This play incident and the school incident reveal by analogy something of the profound mean- ing of the Christian concept of a perfect social order. A story from real spiritual life will furnish the additional explanation.
405
By NEPHI JENSEN
o GOD
AFTER A FEW MOMENTS THE LEADER OF THE GROUP CALLED GLEEFULLY, "COME ON ALICE!"
Some years ago a young girl from Western Canada was appoint- ed to do missionary work in the Canadian Mission. Her first name was Ruby. And the name con- noted her character. She was a real gem. She had been reared in a fine Latter-day Saint home; but she had never had any real pro- found experience with spiritual realities before going on her mis- sion.
Some months after her arrival in the missionary field, she and her girl companion were appointed to hold a cottage meeting. The two took an interurban train for the place of the fire-side service. On the way Ruby became anxious about what she should say at the meeting. It was to be her first attempt at the delicate art of preaching. As the train sped on its way she commenced to soliloquize: "What can I say? I don't know whether my religion is true or not." It was a very dis- quieting thought, and she was quite distressed about it. When she reached her destination she was really blue.
T JPON their arrival at the home at which the meeting was to be held, the two were shown to an upper room for the night. Shortly afterward Ruby's companion went down stairs and left Ruby alone with her distracting thoughts. In her desperation she fell upon her knees at the bedside and wept and prayed. In girlish simplicity and faith she pleaded for a knowledge of the divinity of her religion. While she prayed a spirit of peace, joy, power and glory took pos- session of her. She arose to her feet with a perfect assurance in her heart that her spirit had touched the Spirit of God.
It was the deepest, sweetest and truest experience of her life. Tears of joy were glistening on her cheeks when her companion returned.
"I know that you know Mor- monism is true," said the compan- ion fervently as she took Ruby in her arms.
That night Ruby found the real meaning of Paul's profound con- clusion, "The Kingdom of God is righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Ghost." Through the Holy Ghost, which is the witness for God and His son Jesus Christ,
she came into peaceful joyous har- mony with God.
Her deep spiritual awakening was not wholly unlike the thrill of unified play. The essential pleasure of play comes from har- monious joyous action. But Ruby's thrill was spiritual. It came from the consciousness that she had come into perfect sympathetic accord with the One who is infinitely beautiful, good and true. This inner serene sense of perfect loving harmony with the Father of All is what the Master calls the "King- dom of Heaven within you."
Ruby had been initiated into the institutional Kingdom of God when eight years of age, by the sacred ordinance of baptism, ad- ministered by one who had been duly ordained to act for the King. Now, through her spiritual awak- ening, she had become alive to the joys and glories of the heavenly kingdom. So she had no difficulty in speaking to the little group of Saints, neighbors and friends who gathered that evening about the hearthstone; for her newly awaken- ed sense of the reality of God and His loving kindnesj had given her the deep feeling that she was kin to all His children. With the purest delight she fraternized with and spoke to those with whom she now felt so intimately related. There was in her first simple, fervent ser- mon the spontaneous joy-notes of the bird-song.
CUCH a person is not kept out of the harmonious realm by any geographical barrier or racial dif- ferences. Nor is he shut out by the edict of anyone within the king- dom. He shuts himself out. His every thought, aspiration and en- deavor takes him further and further from that perfected society in which all the members find their chief joy in sharing their joys with others.
A love-governed kingdom of this kind, "is not of this world," as the Savior affirmed. The king- doms of this world are built up by greed and aggression and forceful subjugation of others. The king- dom of Christ is fostered by loving service and consecrated self-sacrifice. (Continued on gage 440)
THE OLD PAPER MILL
By RACHEL G. TAYLOR
hen RAGS were
THE amount of paper used in a single copy of the January 3, 1934, issue of the Deseret News would have been sufficient to print your grandfather's copy for an entire year, if he was one of the original subscribers in 1850. There are more reasons than one for the difference in size of the issues, but this article will discuss but one — paper.
In these days paper is plentiful. It is pushed under our doors and into our mailboxes. We wade through page upon page of our daily and weekly newspaper in the hope of getting items of real in- terest bogged down in surplus pa- per. One of the expenses of a city is wages paid to men who go along its streets and keep them clear of waste paper.
How different when on June 15, 1850, the first copy of the Deseret News was printed! It was a weekly paper of 8 pages, the sheets being 7^ by 10 inches (a little smaller than this sheet) . To print a paper at all was an ambitious un- dertaking when paper made in the East had to come to Utah via the Mississippi River and thence over the plains, or by ship to California and then across the desert.
Before the year 1850 closed, plans were being made for the es-'
PRECIOUS
DESERET NEWS.
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1850.
RAGS ! RAGS ! ! RAGS ! ! !
Save your rags, every body in Deseret save your rags ; old wagon covers, tents, quilts, shirts, &c, &c, are wanted for paper. The most efficient measures are in progress to put a paper mill in operation the coming season, in this valley, and all your rags will be wanted. Make your woollen rags into carpeting, aDd save importation.
The Mail, having passed through snow from one to three feet in depth, for 17 days, arrived on the 9th inst., bringing a copy of the Act incorporating the Territory of Utah, as certified by Dr. Bernhisel, which we give entire in to day's paper.
At our latest advices from Washington the officers of the "Territory" had not been nominated, but it was thought by some of our
friends that Prest. Fillmore was favorably inclined towards individuals now livisg in
Deseret, for the greater portion of the offi- cers of Utah.
j Strong exertions were made by our Agents
jat Washington for the name of Deaeret in-
i stead of Utah, but with no avail. Thia mail
j confirmed the truth of the rumor that Brig-
I ham Young has been appointed to take the
| Census of Desert t, also an appointment to
j Willard Richards as Post Master for Salt
' Lake City, Utah Ter
Modem -process and mod- ern transportation have made paper an extremely common article of daily use. We have paper plates, paper cups, pa- per dresses ; paper everything! In pioneer times paper was precious because, like nails, it was extremely scarce. In this article you will find the story of an early Utah paper and of the men and women who had part in its production.
tablishment of a paper mill. But making paper meant a supply of rags from which to make it, as manufacture from wood pulp in those days was out of the question.
This necessity was a blessing in disguise. Rags make strong paper — paper that still stands the test of time.
The first appeal for rags for papermaking purposes appeared in the Deseret News, November 30,
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA, JULY, 1934
407
1850, as evidenced by the accom- panying clipping.
The following year an appeal was made in an open letter address- ed:
"TO THE PUBLIC: 'The subscribers would respect- fully advertise to the citizens of the Great Salt Lake and the territory of Utah, that they are fitting up and preparing for the manufacture of all kinds of paper in the vicinity of Big Cottonwood; we would therefore solicit the Bishops of each ward respectively, traveling and presiding elders, to spare no pains in spreading this intelligence that we intend to be ready to commence our operation in the manufacture of all kinds of paper by the first of July next. We therefore solicit all the citizens of the territory of Utah to save all materials for the manu- facturing of same; namely all kinds of ropes made of hemp, or flax, old paper hangings, or waste paper of all descriptions, and rags of all colors, of every name and denomi- nation, either cotton, linen or woolen, for which we will pay the highest market price, according to their respective denomination, and to facilitate the gathering of the materials for the paper we would recommend that each individual de- posit their rags with the Bish- ops of their respective wards, taking a receipt of the amount received, designating the de- scription, keeping a record of the same, and forward the same to the general Tithing Office in Great Salt Lake City, which amount to be received on Tith- ing, or to be paid in paper or any other thing that we may exchange for paper. "Sidney Roberts, Contractor, "Thomas Howard, Manufac- turer."
APPARENTLY the rags re- ceived did not justify im- porting the machinery for a mill. However, President Brigham Young included paper-making along with the many other articles manufac- tured in the Public Works Shop.
Without machinery, the rags were washed, sorted, then ground to pieces between stones. Water was added to make a thick pulp which was boiled for hours in large vats. This pulp must be constantly stirred and beaten to make it of
lllllllt
...■. ■ '■■ ■■■ :■■■■■ ■■■■ ■
GEORGE GODDARD
as smooth consistency as possible. When the cooking process was over, the pulp was run out over screens and the surplus water drained away, leaving the paper. This must be flattened by hand or by rollers.
Without proper bleaching ma- terials, the paper produced, while strong, was coarse in texture and dull gray in color. The difficulties of succeeding years in obtaining materials and using the materials obtained is best told in the columns
HOMES OF THE
PIONEERS
A SHANTY of sod on the prairie's breast, A cabin of logs where the forest clears,. A rude, bare shack in the wilderness, These are the houses of pioneers.
A rough floor scrubbed by an earnest broom, A coarse brown muslin window shade,
A coal oil lamp with a shining flue. An old, old, Book on a table made
With simple tools, a woven rug, A patchwork quilt, a little flower
On the window sill, a cradle's swing, A soul that can wait, but cannot cower,
A woman's love, and a man's brave faith, A bit of prayer as the night time nears,
A soft song threaded through weary toil,- — These make the homes of the pioneers.
— Clara Aiken Speer.
of the News of Thursday, January 12, 1854:
"DESERET PAPER MILLS. "His Excellency the Governor, having granted the use of the north- east corner of the Public Work Shop for manufacturing paper, we the undersigned, solicit the citizens of Utah Territory to send all kinds of rags and waste paper of all de- scriptions, to the Tithing Office im- mediately, as we are anxious to be in operation so as to have a sheet of home-made paper ready for pres- entation at the April Conference.
'Thomas Hollis. "Thomas Howard." "RAGS! RAGS! RAGS Ill- Save your rags!
"Look at the above and be wise. Bring your rags to the Tithing Office." (Ed.)
This item is also of interest and is from the Deseret News, Thurs- day, June 8, 1854.
"In advertising for paper rags in our last number, we omitted to mention that it is not necessary to wash or sort them, as that will be done at the factory. We also wish the Bishops in the several wards throughout the territory to urge the people to gather and send on their cotton and linen rags, colored or uncoloved, washed or unwashed, as this is the only chance of get- ting paper for the News until next fall."
That the paper makers had difficulty obtaining sufficient rags is indicated by this notice in the Deseret News, Thurs- day, July 6, 18547
"TO OUR READERS.
"We are compelled to come out again in a half sheet, much more to our chagrin, than it can be to yours ; but sufficiently unpleasant to all parties. As stating a few of the most dif- ficult obstacles, which prevent our being furnished with a whole sheet, may tend to re- move them, we will frankly do so. In the first place, notwith- standing the published notices, and all we have said, paper rags come in very slow. Again, our paper makers cannot use the colored rags at present through lack of material for bleaching, and lack of skill to make the material. And still further Brother Gaunt does not yet furnish the new felting which was ordered long ago.
(Continued on page 438)
408
FLAGS of the
CONFEDERACY
THREE successive designs for a national flag were adopted by the Confederate Congress be- fore one was evolved that met every crucial requirement. Each, in turn, had seemed the ideal one both heraldically and symbolically, un- til subjected to the practical test of the battlefield, when the first two necessarily were abandoned because of their misleading visibility.
The first of these official flags was made from the following de- sign: A blue union with a circle of stars, and with longitudinal bars of red and white instead of the Stars and Stripes of the Union flag; the white space through the center being the same width as the red above and the red below the white bar; the union being a blue field extending down through the top red and white bars to the edge of the red bar below.
In the center of the blue field was a circle of white five-pointed stars equal in number to the states which had seceded.
Beautiful though this flag, un- doubtedly, was; and, though it perfectly embodied the sentiment of the South, its abandonment was necessitated by the fact that, when hanging limp on the battlefield it easily was mistaken for the Stars and Stripes and thus was the cause of such confusion that, after the first Battle of Manassas, both the Northern and Southern forces ac- cused one another of using an imi- tation of the opposing colors.
Consequently, on the first of May, 1861, a second official flag was adopted by the Congress. This design, also, proved disap- pointing that, when hanging idly, its appearance was perilously like a flag of truce.
THE LAST FLAG
ADOPTED BY THE
CON FEDERATE
CONGRESS
Photo Metropolitan Engraving Co., Richmond, Va.
It •»« towfi d»: the tttm£ S<U%. whess having ! «*tki casJv fee mistaken. f«rs Fbg ot fcw*, *> oo W
Thi« was daw: by jiJaricg a fcro*? re4 bar acrc*s it* ii tit SaMm Buhner, ttas iaxaf tte fowtb hi r%£ or iht i^ttfe&racy. la t few <kj>9 Coflgrew
:'i-.h-
Finally, on the fourth of March, 1865, only a few short weeks be- fore the tragedy of Appomattox, a third and last design was adopted. The specifications for this flag were; That the width should be two-thirds of the length, with the union three-fifths of the width of the flag and so proportioned as to leave the length of the field on the side of the union twice the width of the field below it; the ground was to be red, with a broad blue saltier — or St. Andrew's cross — thereon; the cross to be bordered with white and emblazoned with white five-pointed stars, or mullets, equal in number to the States of the Confederacy. Across the op- posite end of this banner was a broad red bar, which added even more to its distinctiveness. Al- though it was destined never to see service in the field, this flag is now used as their official insignia by the Sons of Confederate Veterans.
A NOTHER design — not official- ly adopted, however — was the famous battle flag which sprang
into instant popularity immediately after its appearance and, within a year, became the recognized emblem of the entire Confederate army and was borne by all the troops throughout the remainder of the conflict. It was not intended, pri- marily, for a national banner but was created after the first battle of Manassas for the use of the army in that sector. General P. G* T. Beauregard had the honor of de- signing this flag, which was square in shape in deference to the wishes- of General Joseph E. Johnston. Its field, likewise was red; its bars were blue and were placed diagon- ally across the field from corner to corner in the form of a Greek cross. The stars on the bars were either white or gold and corres- ponded in number to those of the Confederate States. The blue bars were separated from the red field by a narrow fillet of white. The designated size of this flag, for the infantry, was 4x4 feet; for the artillery, 3x3 feet; and for the cavalry, 2^x2^ feet.
The first flags from this design were made by two Virginia belles,
409
By LUCIE A. FERGUSON
Flags are made of the very essence of -patriotic senti- ment. Woven into them are the heart beats of the people whom they represent, therefore the making of a flag is no easy matter, and the preserving of a banner is one of the finest tasks given to civilized man. The flag of the American Confederacy was not quite fully born the cause for which it stood never quite materialized, but still much sentiment gath- ered, in a few strife-torn years, around "The Stars and Bars."
the Misses Hettie and Constance Cary, who presented one each to General Johnston, General Beaure- gard and General Van Dorn. Gen- eral Beauregard sent his flag to New Orleans, and — when that city fell — he sent it to Havana for safe- keeping. At the close of the war, it was returned to New Orleans and was given into the custody of the Wash- ington Artillery, of that city.
It is interesting to note, in this connec- tion, that Miss Con- stance Cary afterwards became Mrs. Burton Harrison, and attained distinction as a writer of fiction.
Although the fa- mous battle flag was square in shape, there were many others that were oblong and were made by loyal women of the South who pre- sented them to com- panies in their own lo- calities. These, too, bear eloquent testimony to the bravery of their defenders in their blood-stained tat- tered folds.
QNE of the most notable standards of the Confederacy was that known as the Jackson Flag. The original one was made by Mrs. Libby Ann H ... Padgett, a skillful needlewoman, for James Jackson, proprietor of the Marshall House at Alexandria, Virginia. A rep- lica of it was flown at the peak
of the Confederate war-vessel, the Shenandoah, and was carried by that valiant ship to every ocean on the globe, encircling the earth in what has been characterized as one of the masterly cruises of history. The pattern of this flag was : Two red stripes with a white stripe be- tween; on a blue field was a circle
TOP: THE FIRST FLAG ADOPTED BY THE CON- FEDERATE CONGRESS
CENTER: THE FAMOUS BATTLE FLAG, DESIGNED BY GENERAL P. G. T. BEAUREGARD.
BOTTOM: THIS FLAG PROVED DISAPPOINTING AND WAS ABANDONED.
of twelve stars with a thirteenth star, larger in size, in the center to represent Virginia. It is supposed that thirteen, instead of eleven stars, were used to represent the two doubtful states that were expected to secede any day.
The first emblem of the Con- federate Volunteers in the field was a banner of solid blue bearing a single white star. It belonged to the Texas Volunteers and was car- ried by the Wigfall Guards, com- manded by Ensign Duggan, to whom Captain Howe, command- ing "The Star of the West," sur- rendered his vessel with a large cargo of foodstuffs, early in April, 1861.
After so signal a victory, it is little wonder that the flag borne by these brave Volunteers was im- mortalized in a song called, "The Bonnie Blue Flag," that swept the South like prairie fire and was second only to "Dixie" as an inspiration to the Boys in Grey all through the gruelling years of the War between the States. Though other flags bearing a single star were unfurled at different times and in various states of the Confederacy, none ever attained so wide an appeal as that of the Lone Star Flag of Texas. Indeed, the sentiment was quite general at the begin- ning of the War in favor of a single star flag as the official one of the new Govern- ment; but this senti- ment never took defi- nite form.
However, when Vir- ginia seceded in April, 1861, the flag that was flown from the dome of the Capitol, at Rich- mond, was one of solid blue devoid of insignia, instead of the former flag of the state.
■pEW Southerners and fewer, still,
of their Northern compatriots
are aware that a Confederate Flag
once was flown over a public build-
(Continued on page 441 )
410
AN OXFORD GROUP IN CANADA
The Oxford Groups
By
C. FRANK STEELE
rIE Oxford Groupers came to America not long ago and from New York to San Francisco and from Vancouver to Quebec these evangelists in plus- fours and dinner jackets spread their new gospel in an earnest and often compelling style. And they did it in a big way, for their "team" number forty or more, all happy, jaunty, enthusiastic envoys of the new way of life.
This, in many respects, is the most interesting new movement in the religious world today. It is not a new denomination but rather a new determination, as Dr. Frank Buchman, founder and leader of the Groups, puts it. Life changing on a grand scale is the aim of these missioners and by this means they hope to change the world. It is a movement, not an organization. Religion has been stripped of its formalism and stiffness. These touring envoys who travel in Pull- mans and call each other by their
at Close Range
first names are very human, frank, jovial folk. They bear "witness" but do not debate. They are not prudish yet I know of none who has not given up tobacco and liquor. They stand for the clean life. There is no clergy in the movement although many clergy- men are Groupers; there are no churches, no press agents, no peri- odicals; and only a few books, notably "For Sinners Only," by a London journalist whose life was changed, have been written of the Groups and their plan for world redemption.
One may be a Presbyterian, a Baptist, a Roman Catholic, a Lat- ter-day Saint and be an Oxford Grouper. This at least is what is claimed, for it is calculated to be a great force for spiritual if not organic unity, breaking down de- nominational barriers and preju- dices. It stands for Christ rather than creed.
Does it work? I can give one
example where it did. When the Oxford Group missionary meeting was held in our city a Latter-day Saint stake president was invited to a place beside the clergy of other faiths, a dozen or more of them, the most friendly gesture that had been made up to that time. Chris- tian fellowship is what Dr. Buch- man and his zealous associates preach.
T'HIS is a unique movement in many ways. Someone has called it "The Salvation Army in dress clothes." Certainly it is dis- tinctive. The missioners go about in "teams." They describe their work as "jolly fun," and propound it in the ballrooms of the best hotels. Their "house parties" are really testimony meetings and are very frank and informal affairs, even jovial but seemingly sincere and spontaneous. There is no sanction of the sensational or arti- ficial; rather these Oxford Group
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA, JULY, 1934
41 I
people are intelligent, broad-mind- ed, normal men and women drawn from a great many fields, often graduates of universities. I heard one critic call it an "emotional jag" but I saw nothing of this sort.
won, the experiences in deeper, richer spiritual life realized.
T-TOW is the Movement financed?
This is a common question.
To quote again Dr. Buchman: "It
Wesley and Booth carried their re- is you not yours that we are after.
miral Sidney Drury Lowe, R. N., C. M. G.; Dr. Cyrus MacMillan, former moderator of the Presby- terian Church in South Africa; Mr, and Mrs. H. Kenaston TwitchelL of Harvard and Oxford; "Jimmy" Watt of Fife, Scotland, a coal miner
vivals to the poor of England; Frank Buchman, American-born founder of this new revival, went to Cambridge and Oxford and there it was that the movement gathered momentum. It, of course, takes its name from Oxford Uni- versity, although this is resented
Voluntary donations are relied up- and former secretary of the Young
on largely although a number of the members of the "team" have private means which they "share" very generously. No collections are taken either at the meetings or at the "house parties." "God has
taken care of our needs thus far, by not a few Oxonians, though and He always will if we follow some of the missioners are Oxford men. Today there are Groups in a score or more countries meeting from time to time as they
Here is the story of another "movement
Communist Movement in Scot- land; Miss Eleanor Forde of Montreal, American-born but edu- cated at McGill — these are repre- sentative Oxford Groupers.
The founder of the Movement, Dr. Frank Buchman, was born in Pennsburg, Pennsylvania, in 1878,
are "guided."
As I have said, these Groupers have coined a new religious terminology. For instance they "share" experiences and substance i f necessary. They
His guidance," said one Group of German-Swiss parents. He qual-
member. ified for the Lutheran ministry, but
This Movement during the disagreeing with his church board
became a free lance preach- er. In 1918, he declares, in Kenswick, England, he American born, English bred, which mat- had a deeply stirring reli-
cates that men are seeking new and better gious experience and it was ways of fostering fellowship. This article, then and there that the in'
read in connection with that written by Dr.
"change" lives. They wait Beeley in this same issue, will undoubtedly
for guidance and have ? r ■ . .
their "quiet times," periods °e of interest.
when they commune with
stress period of the past three or four years has had a powerful ap- peal. Many notable men and women have become converts to it. For instance, in the United States
God. Moreover, a man who has been "changed" must make "resti- tution." Age-old conventionali- ties have been passed over in stating their gospel.
The "creed" of the Oxford Group is simple. They believe in the four Absolutes — absolute hon- esty, absolute purity, absolute un- selfishness, absolute love. "It is that 'absolute' point that gets one," said a convert. "There must be no hedging, no side-stepping. One must be true. And such a type of living would change the world."
Those whose lives have been "changed" testify that God speaks to them in their daily "quiet times." They hold that the com- mon idea of prayer is incorrect, that it does not go far enough. It is not enough to ask; we must give God an opportunity to answer, which He will if we have rid our- selves of sin and sham and indif- ference. Dr. Buchman puts it this way: "People talk to God then slam down the receiver." Com- plete reliance on the Lord's ability and desire to answer our prayers is one of the basic principles of the movement.
Nor must the Oxford Grouper keep to himself the good things he has received. He must "share." It is not enough to confess to God: others must be told of the victories
spiration of the Movement came to him. For some years he was secretary of the student Y. M. C. A. at Pennsylvania State Col- lege and became noted for his evangelical work on Amer- ican college campuses. During the war, Dr. Buchman did Y. M'. C. A. work in China and returning to the United States by
it has won such men as Harvey way of Europe he paused at Cam
Firestone, the manufacturer; in Canada, T. P. Loblow, Toronto chain store magnate, was "changed" and became an ardent worker. However, his influence was soon lost to the Groups, for he died in April last. Vice-Ad-
REFLECTIONS
bridge and there in 1920 was really born the Movement, first called "The First Century Christian Fel- lowship" or "Buchmanism," and later the Oxford Group Movement, It is perhaps too early to evaluate the Movement or even to place it- No one can object to its four ab- solutes: honesty, purity, unselfish- ness and love. Elder Melvin J. Bal- lard, of the Council of the Twelve Apostles, has pointed out that the Latter-day Saints have always stressed these moral teachings and the rigid living of them. Some of the other features of the Movement may not be so acceptable. How- ever, that the Oxford Group Move- ment is significant of the times is obviously true — a reaching out for something simple, practical and understandable. In a word it is another break with decadent de- nominational forms, a return to the zeal and devotion of the early Christians. It will be judged in the years to come as other organi- zations and movements by its. fruits. Right now it is an absorb- ing experiment, religious and psy- chological.
412
QUEST
By
JOSEPHINE DAHL
>.
m§m')
S
'OMEWHERE during a busy week, Mrs. Southwick had seen the word "Ideality." It might have been the heading of Betty's English composition, or a caption in the paper. It did not matter. But her mind had caught the word, and held it with annoying per- sistence.
Impatiently she thrust it from her. Ideality, indeed? Ideality existed only in dreams and fancies. What use was there in vain and empty expatiations, when the per- fect exemplar, the archetype, was not to be found in this prosaic day of selfishness and commercialism? Life had long since cut itself apart from ideals; it had resolved itself into "each man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost." And for the hindmost, it was merely a mad effort to get by.
To get by ! That was her own problem, now and all the time, from the first of the month when bills came in, to the last when she looked forward to the needed pay- check— that more bills might be paid. What time had she to con- sider ideals, when stern reality was her constant companion?
As she sat, a prey to worry and discouragement, before her on the desk were bills and check book. First came, as usual, the statements from fuel, light and telephone com- panies. Then — the doctor bill! This month the doctor must wait. No doubt she should make some explanation or apology, for she was forced to admit that Doctor Burton had given Dick conscien- tious care, and the boy's fractured
from eyes, heart
limb was now restored to its former symmetry and usefulness. And the doctor had a family to support, a home to maintain, and office rent to pay, besides the expense of oper- ating his car and hiring an office assistant. Yes, she must telephone him.
She began her regretful explana- tion, only to be cut short by a friendly little laugh.
"I'm not worrying about it one bit, Mrs. Southwick," the doctor assured her heartily, "and hope that you are worrying no more than I. How is Dick? Send him in some time; I'd like to see that leg again. What? He plays baseball? Send him in soon!"
Mrs. Southwick turned the telephone with stinging the tightness around her somewhat relaxed, then hurried to answer a knock at the back door.
It was young Schultz; his peo- ple lived on the corner, a peculiar family who had raised a neigh- borhood row about a right-of-way.
The young man looked up with a friendly smile.
"Have you seen a little bull ter- rier limping around here this after- noon?" he asked.
"Oh, is it your dog that's hurt? The children said something — ."
"No, he isn't mine. I don't know where he belongs. I was driving my truck along the high- way up here, and a man just ahead of me ran right over this dog; didn't even look back. I couldn't leave the little fellow lying in the road; he wasn't dead. So I picked him up and brought him home,
and made a bed for him on the back porch. I had a delivery to make, but came back as soon as I could to make him comfortable until his owner could be found. And he must have limped off"; couldn't have gone very far." There was genuine concern in his face and voice.
MR{
LS. SOUTHWICK told him that one of the children had said something about a lame dog making its way to the hollow across the street, and with a smile and "Thank you" young Schultz was gone.
One check had been made out, when a young voice interrupted.
"Mum! Mummy!"
"Yes? What is it?" Mrs. South- wick asked impatiently.
"O — nothin' — say, you're not worryin' 'bout money, are you, Mum?"
"Well, a little, I guess, dear," she replied, regretting her sharpness.
"You don't need to. I was just goin' to ask if I could go to the store an' buy one of those thing-a- ma-gigs in the window, but — you can have my fifteen cents! I can save again!" And a grimy little hand turned out upon the table a precious hoard of pennies. A pat- ter of feet, the slam of a door, and the child was gone, scarcely hearing her mother's "Thank you, dear!"
Mrs. Southwick tenderly gath- ered the pennies into a little heap and went on with her task until another knock sounded at the back door. This time it was the plum- ber, who had come to repair a leaking drain under the kitchen sink. Curiously she watched him at his brief task, remarking;
"Plumbing is a more essential trade today than it was in grand- mother's time."
{Continued on page 443)
413
The Lore
By JOSEPH F. MERRILL
A Member of the Quorum of the
Twelve
Overrules
IT was about 10 o'clock one Monday morning the end of August or early September, 1897. I was riding westward in Wyoming on a Union Pacific train, and at this hour was scanning a copy of a Salt Lake paper, ob- tained at the previous stop. At the moment I was reading a report of the quarterly conference of the Salt Lake Stake, held in the Taber- nacle the day before. Reference was made to the' release of Joseph H. Felt, who had served for many years as Stake Superintendent of Y. M. M. I. A., and then the in- teresting information was given that Richard R. Lyman had been selected as his successor. To my- self I said "Congratulations, Rich- ard." No sooner had these words passed through my mind than I was surprised by the words "You are to be his first counselor." These last words were not read from the paper or audibly spoken in my ears but they were forcibly impressed upon my consciousness as if they had been uttered in thunderous tones. I shook. "Is not this strange?" I thought.
And then I began to ponder the situation. The facts were that I was returning to Salt Lake City after an absence of nearly twenty- four months to enter again upon my duties as a member of the faculty of the University of Utah. I had previously served for two years as a teacher at the University and was now returning from a leave of absence, devoted to study at Johns Hopkins and Chicago Universities. I was going to Utah with my mind convinced that it would be well for me to avoid public activity in Church service. I had taken this view during the two years, 1893-95, that I had al- ready taught at the University and I had concluded to continue this attitude.
"Why," does one ask? This was the situation. I was a student
at the University during 1887-89. This was a period of intense feeling between the Mormons and Gentiles. Most of the Church leaders were living on "the underground" and were continually hunted by "dep- uty marshals." To escape inhu- man persecution the Mormons had forsaken their comfortable homes in lovely Nauvoo forty years be- fore and in the midst of innumer- able hardships and unbelievable sufferings they had fled to the Rocky Mountain wilderness. By dint of persistent struggles with unfriendly natural conditions they had established themselves in these peaceful vales where they wanted, above all, to feel free to worship their God "according to the dictates of their own conscience." But in the later eighties old persecutions were returning and bitterness was increasing. Our people strongly felt they had a right to live in peace in a land they had reclaimed and made habitable. We at the Uni- versity felt that we were between "the devil and the deep blue sea." The Gentiles regarded us as a Mor- mon institution. The Mormons (some of them) looked upon our school as an "infidel factory." Hence we did not enjoy the whole- hearted support of either faction.
CO when I went back to the in- stitution as a teacher in Septem- ber, 1893, I resolved in my public capacity to be neutral toward both factions, particularly since many leading men and women on both sides were then trying hard and successfully to develop better un- derstandings. I believed in the University and its possibilities to become an influential factor for good in the community. But pub- licly I must exhibit no partisan- ship else to that extent I might endanger the good work of the University. Hence during these two years I accepted no call to Church service. I went regularly as a lay member to religious meet-
ings, never forgot to pray daily, and tried to make my personal conduct square with my mother's teachings. And then I went east for a two-year period of further study.
During this time there was little occasion to give further consider- ation to this question of Public Church activity. However, on the return trip some attention was given to it but the conclusion of four years before remained un- changed. This was one reason why I read with so much interest of what had happened to my friend Richard R. Lyman. During my leave of absence he had accepted a teaching position in the University. I knew this and knew we were to be colleagues on the faculty. But just as I started to think it might be all right for him to become publicly Church active but not for me came my shock.
Years ago on invitation I re- ported this incident to the Psychical Research Society of Boston. Be- fore accepting it as phenomenal the Society asked me a lot of questions. No, I had never previously talked with Dr. Lyman about M. I. A. work nor with any other person about it in the Salt Lake nor any other stake. I had neither seen nor in any way communicated with Dr. Lyman during the two pre- vious years. Yes, I had known him at the University of Michigan four years and more previously. But I was not then and had never been a member of the Salt Lake Stake, was not personally acquaint- ed with any officer of the Stake, had never attended any M. I. A. meetings outside of my own ward, Richmond, and this more than ten years before, had no secret desire to be a Church officer, etc.
YKTHY was I told that I was to be Brother Lyman's first coun- selor? At first thought it seemed very strange. But I have been of (Continued on page 447)
414
"OGDEN'S HOLE
#X;;
Plwto of the Stansbury Map.
IN the January (1934) issue of the Era I notice an article under the caption, "The Colon- ization of Ogden Hole" by Glenn Perrins, a newspaper man of Og~ <den. In this article he refers to the location of the city of Ogden as Ibeing identical with Ogden Hole, •or, correctly written "Ogden's Hole."
There can be no doubt in regard to Ogden's Hole being identical with Ogden Valley in which the settlements of Huntsville, Eden, and Liberty are now located. The name "Ogden's Hole" was applied to that particular valley prior to the arrival of the Mormon pioneers in 1847, and perhaps the best au- thority we have is the official docu- ment written by Howard Stans- bury, Captain Corps Topograph- ical Engineers, U. S. Army, entitled "Exploration and Survey of the
By ANDREW JENSON
Assistant Church Historian
The aged but still keen Assistant Church His- torian who, himself y walked across the -plains, calls Howard Stansbury as witness in the case Ogden vs. Ogden's Hole (See Glenn S. Perrinsy article in the January, 1934 Improvement Era) and settles the controversy . Mr. Jenson also produced a Stansbury map as evidence.
II
Valley of the Great Salt Lake of Utah," published in Philadelphia in 1852.
Howard Stansbury left Fort Leavenworth May 31, 1849, with his expedition. He traveled in a northwesterly direction until he struck the Platte River, and thence passed up said river and the Sweet-
water, until he crossed the Conti- nental Divide, or South Pass. Thence he traveled to Fort Bridger, where he arrived Aug. 11, 1849. In his official report we read the following:
"From Fort Bridger there are now two routes as far as the Humboldt or Mary's
(Continued on page 448)
415
For the Dark Stranger
By Ardyth Kennetly
T'D like to have slippers with jeweled heels ■*• And a soft dress looped with pearls, A heaven-blue cape — and eyes to match — A head all golden curls.
I'd like to be covered with costly stuff,
White diamonds glittering blue, For then you'd see me and then you'd ask : Would I dance this waltz with you?
Coin of the Realm
By Clarence Edwin Flynn
ONE who would journey to another land Must pause somewhere before departing.
and Exchange his money for the coin they know To stand for value where he means to go.
One who would journey to the world to
come In peace, and find in it a happy home, Must know that all that any traveler Can pass for value there is character.
In a Garden
By Rosannah Cannon
COULD ever spring come sweetly to this place, And we not know?
Where iris blooms with an especial grace, And silver birches trail their tender green; Where in the dusk a sickle moon is seen, And faint winds blow.
Though we are dust a thousand years or
more, The summer rain
Will tell of one place lovely as before; And grief we knew together will seem
small. And death quite unimportant, after all, If this remain.
Sacrament
By M. J. Cole
O TREES so mute and reverent Within this woodland space! Fold all your young leaves quietly: It is a holy place.
Let us lift up our faces, — glad And unashamed of scars,
Since we have drunk memorially Our fellowship with stars.
The Maker of clean beauty has
Broken the bread again And given to us in the dawn
Communion cup of rain.
Dry Farm
By Andrew M. Andersen
T REMEMBER—
■L * * Assailing grey legions of sagebrush
Until my furrows
Reached to the edge of the pine lands;
* * Snaring the wary water
In pits at the foot of the lonely butte, Where snows, embraced by the aspens, Melted slowly ;
* * Gathering abundant harvests From the generous soil.
Then the barren years came,
A procession
Of wilting saffron droughts.
Storm clouds were as impotent As the ominous wheels of dust That the winds rolled up from the south- west.
Frustrated, I renounced my bondage To dusty heat cursed slopes. But there was a silver sheen On endless reaches of sagebrush, And sentinel buttes on the foothills Were purple in the dawn.
* * Leaves of the aspens Danced with the timidest breezes;
* * Meadow larks, far from their
meadows Trilled amid pillars of golden grain,
And a house with dirt roof and log walls, Framed by fields of burnished copper And drowsy hills, Is intimate and sheltering.
FALLS AND GRAND CANYON OF THE YELLOWSTONE
Shadows
By Herbert H. McKusick
THERE have been other shadows on this wall, But none so beautiful As this faint tracery
The winter moon has etched through leaf- less arms That reach toward heaven in their lone- liness.
There have been other lines upon this heart, Limn'd by the fiercer light of passion's sun, But none so beautiful, my dear, As this new ecstacy your love has wrought After the day is done.
Memories
By Jane Romney Crawford
"DOSE! how soon your beauty leaves you ■*■ •■ Petals droop and fall and dry, Color fades and fragrance leaves you, Stem alone is left to die.
Does it pay to live at all, Rose, When you bloom just for a day? Just what is your mission then, Rose, Do you live in vain, I say?
Did I say you lived in vain, Rose? Now I know I failed to see You in your real light and worth, Rose, And the truth you told to me.
Perfect is your mission then, Rose, Perfume rare with it combines Life and beauty, charm and grace, Rose, Like true friends your life reminds.
Now you're here and now you're gone.
Rose, Only stay just long enough. To make your coming and your going Fond sweet memories of love.
Grand Canyon
By Maud E. Uschold
THIS cannot be — this world below our feet! This sunken continent of chiseled rock, Where lightnings dart, and follow thun- ders shock From clouds white enfilades of snow and
sleet. After a storm the strange mirage of stone Shapes below in a rainbow maze of mist. Luminous now with slanting rays of sun, Blowing in streams carnelian, amethyst.
This is no ordinary land ; this bright,
Sharp continent adrift in gossamer,
One moment clear, then lost in clouds that
blur Chameleon-like in ever changing light; That lifts from nether earth its terrible
scars; Whose skies have depth, but neither sun
nor stars.
■.■:':■■
wlfmW
June Conference in Relief
■"THE attendance at June Conference this year broke all records, according to M. I. A. Officials. Maricopa Stake, Arizona, led all stakes in registration Friday. Saturday morning, how- ever, Pocatello Stake forged into first place. Cheers for the distant stakes.
Three thousand one hundred and seventy-eight singers assembled to participate in the grandest music festival in the history of the Church. Noble Cain, director, from Chicago, was elated when he beheld his group. Madam Telva, former Metropolitan singer, who was present to sing during the festival and in the general session on Sunday, was highly complimentary in her remarks about the chorus after she had heard them in rehearsal. Madam Telva appeared in compli- ment to the First Presidency of the Church.
M. I. A. contests, which have been in use for years, were replaced, officially by achievement programs. Miss Clarissa A. Beesley, second coun- selor to President Ruth May Fox, in making the announcement, suggested that "a living room is to be adopted in which all of the family may meet all the time in place of the old-fashioned parlor in which the family met only on gala occasions."
Ninety Vanguards registered in the archery con- tests. These young Robinhoods made a beautiful showing.
M Men soft ball and tennis contests proved to be popular. Some of the games attracted much attention.
The eight feet by nearly five feet replica of the July cover of The Improvement Era which was used in the Era program on Friday morning in the Assembly Hall, attracted considerable attention.
The new plan of the regular Tuesday evening meeting was also announced by Miss Beesley. According to this plan, the weekly meetings will be devoted in their entirety to the subject in hand; two evenings to the manuals, and two to the Appreciation courses, each month.
The Attitudes of Youth were stressed in the Saturday morning meeting in the Assembly Hall. Four important speeches were given, some of which, if not all, will be run in this magazine.
The lunch at Saltair and the dance contests were as interesting and beautiful as usual. The original dances were especially fine. Eighteen stakes participated and each couple may know that at least some of the onlookers selected them. Teton Stake presented a four couple waltz which was artistically conceived and executed.
The contest events aroused the usual excite- ment. See page 432 for results.
Unusually fine weather greeted the visitors. Light rains had cooled the atmosphere until Salt Lake City was, indeed, a delightful place in which to spend a few days; at the Lake the sunset was gorgeous and the surrounding mountains were dreams of loveliness.
Still Our Greatest National Danger
Mi
Yod DO ALL RlOUf OCCASIONALLY- BUT HE IS MY OREATEST LIEUTENANT- r CAi-1 DEPEND ON rtlK\YEAR AFTER YEAR I "
Rrptmiuad Ny Sp«ls] Peiniisslnn «l Tin riilraio TribuiK
Listen Friend!
ISTEN, friend, you may be the next one to kill
some hopeful, innocent, splendid boy or girl, man or woman! No amount of regret or sorrow afterward will bring back a life. No years can dim that horrible moment when you felt your car strike the yielding flesh of one fashioned in God's own image.
You need not be the next one to do such a thing — you need never do it— if you will exercise care; if you refuse to take a chance with life.
High speeds are dangerous and in most cases are unnecessary. When you are tempted to step on the gas and force that car above a safe and sane speed, pause and ask yourself if it is necessary. In most cases you will find it is not. At twenty miles an hour you can cross most of our ordinary towns from edge to edge in three minutes; at thirty you can do it in two. Remember that if you are travel- ing more than forty-five miles an hour a blowout on a front wheel means an almost certain wreck.
A young man got in his car and started for the music festival of his ward. A tire blew out. The car tipped over twice. The boy was killed. Re- joicing was turned into mourning.
An honest, high-type business man left his home for his office. At twenty miles an hour he could have reached it in less than two minutes, but he had a fine car and enjoyed speed. A car had stopped at an intersection. He was in a hurry, perhaps, or was thoughtless, and passed the car at a fair rate of speed only to feel the impact of a body as a happy young girl on her way to school
416
stepped out from in front of the car which had stopped to let her pass. The girl was hurled to the pavement. She was picked up and rushed to a hospital where it was found she had a fractured skull. She suffered untold agony. She may die; she may live — a wreck; there is only a very slender chance of complete recovery.
Friend, you may be the next one to kill a person — yourself, your own family, or someone else — unless you exercise great care in driving that powerful servant of yours, your car!
We plead for safety! — H. R. M.
What Brand Patriotism?
TTHERE are several brands of patriotism, but only
one counts very much — that of work. Talk, such as one hears on the nation's birthday and at other seasons, is important, because it shapes thought and thought produces action — sometimes. But work — work toward and for American ideals is the brand of patriotism that counts most.
Confused a bit by the big and complicated stream of activity that is constantly going on around us, we, frequently, would be willing to work if someone would point the way.
Right now is the time, and where you happen to reside is the place to begin. An election is coming up this fall. Now is the time to prepare for it.
At election time we hear orators deride the American public for not using their votes. We hear speakers declare that we must use our suffrage. Those admonitions are good, but now is the time to work.
There are huge interests preparing for the next election. They never sleep, so to speak. They realize that under a democratic form of govern- ment such as ours, they can shape their own destinies and the destinies of the people while the people sleep. They groom their candidates — slyly, secretly. They prepare their programs and arguments. Usually they buy or force themselves into one or the other or all of the political parties. Their representatives will be present at the first primaries and will follow through to the last rally, because it means money to them.
The people, therefore, if they are to shape the kind of country they wish for themselves and their children, must also be alert at the right time. Now is the right time! After nominations have been made is too late to become active. Now is the time.
Huge liquor, grain, and fruit interests are eager to see the last vestige of prohibition removed. They will work hard and long for the return of all liquors everywhere because there is money to be made all along the line in the liquor business. Clever men are racking their brains for subtle arguments for liquor. They will point out the difficulties of enforcement; they will speak of the taxes which will flow into state coffers; they will say how carefully the traffic will be controlled. Of course, no sane, thinking man or woman will be deceived by their argument any more than they
were deceived before our latest election, but many people are not entirely sane on the subject of liquor, and many more cannot think through a problem.
Now is the time, where you are is the place to exhibit your patriotism. Let's get busy and make America safe for health, happiness, and sanity. Let's be patriotic enough to go to those primaries and conventions even though there is not a dime in sight for our attendance. Let's upset any machine that attempts to fasten liquor and other shackles upon our people. Washington gave his time, suffered hardship, and offered his life as well as his fortune. Surely we can give a little time to this cause.
What brand patriotism should we have! The brand that will send good men and women — men and women with the welfare of all the people at heart — to our legislatures both state and national !
— H. R. M.
We Will Carry the Torch
TWO days before June Conference began a young
M Man, Earl Ross, had completed a talk and was looking forward to delivering it on Sunday night at the M Men-Gleaner session. Two days after Conference, Earl was dead. In his place on Sunday night stood a teacher of his who had first asked the Men Men and Gleaners there assembled to join him in a prayer of faith for Earl — a prayer which he offered in solemnity and sincere humil- ity. Then, according to the sick boy's request, Professor Joseph Smith read the paper Earl had written.
In the M Men organization members will grow older and leave; Earl will be an M Man until the day when the grave is opened and he is raised to inhabit again his body with clear young eyes again seeing and his strong young limbs again animate. His is a spirit which, perhaps, will hover about the organization of young men his age and lend the inspiration of his greater experience and vision.
From his last consciously-planned message we quote: "Well, Pioneer, you see we too have mountains to climb, prairies to cross, rivers to ford in carrying the Torch of our Faith. * * * Ours is a great task, but we are unfalteringly pio- neering in ne wfields * * * but we are still miles from our goal — a goal that we can never reach, nor can any of the succeeding generations. There will always be new problems to solve, new pio- neering in new fields * * * but we are still miles on our way; we have achieved concrete goals; but we can't and won't stop. We shall press on and carry the Torch you have handed to us; the Torch of our faith to every part of the world, no matter where it is, to every nation, no matter how small, to every individual, no matter how lowly. We will do these things with every worthy cause we can command. We will pioneer, just as you did!"
Earl Ross has pledged his word that the M Men will carry the torch. The M Men must make his word good!" — E. T, B.
417
418
Our Historical
Our "foe" is still with us in many parts of the inter -mountain West. This lady who knows her insects has gathered some interest- ing data about those age-old enemies of man — the grasshopper or locust.
T&S
"And when it was morning, the east wind brought the locusts * * * they covered the face of the whole earth so that the land was darkened; and they did eat every herb of the land and all the fruit of the trees: and there remained not any green thing in the trees or any herbs of the field through all the land of Egypt." Exodus X:15.
GRASSHOPPERS or locusts are age-old enemies of man. Their devastations have been witnessed all over the world. Now they are menacing us again. With alarming rapidity, they have increased in numbers until they are causing serious epidemics in our midwestern states. The damage they do is identical with that which was done in Utah by the "crickets" of pioneer days (They were long- horned grasshoppers, not really crickets as known today) . All Latter-day Saints are familiar with the story of their miraculous de- struction by seagulls.
Ordinarily a few grasshoppers give us no concern, as they are in- significant individually. When they multiply excessively, how- ever, they become a serious plague, and this occurs periodically with them. Throughout all ages, they have caused fearful desolation, famine, and pestilence. So terrible were these plagues in the olden
days, that they were written into the historical records of mankind, together with other great events of world history. The prophet Joel writes of them as a fierce, invading army.
"Hear ye this, ye elders, and give ear, all ye inhabitants of the land. Hath this ever happened in your days? or in the days of your fathers? That which was left by the creeping locust hath the swarming locust eaten, and that which was left by the swarming locust hath the grass locust eaten, and that which was left by the grass locust hath the corn locust eaten.
Awake, and weep and howl. * * * For a nation hath come up over my land, bold and without number, whose teeth are the teeth of a lion, the cheek teeth of a great lion. He hath laid my vine waste, and barked my fig tree: he hath made it clean bare, and the branches thereof are made white. * * * The harvest of the field is perished. How do the beasts groan! The herds of cattle are perplexed because they have no pasture; yea, the flocks of sheep are made desolate. * * *
The land is as the Garden of Eden before them, and behind them a desolate wilderness; yea, and nothing shall escape them. The appearance of them is as the appearance of horses; and as horsemen so shall they run. Like the noise of chariots on the tops of mountains shall they leap, like the noise of a flame of fire that de- voureth the stubble, as a strong people set in battle array."
AT that time the locusts devas- tated Palestine, Egypt, Syria, and Arabia. Because of the fero-
ciousness of these insects, the Arabs had a peculiar superstition about them. They believed them to be a composite of ten different animals, having the head of the horse, the horns of the stag, the eyes of the elephant, the neck of the ox, the breast of the lion, the body of the scorpion, the hip of the camel, the legs of the stork, the wings of the eagle, and the tail of the dragon. Believing them to be Allah's Army, they resigned themselves to the fate inflicted upon them by these for- midable creatures. Even the valiant Romans were beaten by them.
In the year 133 B. C. during a terrible locust plague, infinite myriads of them were blown into the Mediterranean Sea, were drowned, and washed upon the shore in such immense heaps that they caused a general pestilence of all living creatures. And their foul odor was indescribably horrible. On the seacoast near Carthage and Utica 200,000 persons perished. Of the 30,000 Roman soldiers that died, 1500 stationed in Utica were carried out of the city and buried in a single day.
A worse plague than that one was experienced in France in 872 A. D. Every green thing in the land was devoured by the locusts.
419
INSECT FOE
By ELSIE HOFFMAN BUCHANAN
One-third of the entire population of France died from the famine and disease that followed this epidemic.
Perhaps the most horrible famine caused by these insects was the one in Morocco in 1778. The poor people wandered over the country in search of food, devoured the roots of plants, and picked the un- digested grains of barley from the dung of camels. Starvation stalked through the land. The streets and roads were strewn with the un- buried dead. Fathers sold their children and husbands their wives, to be spared this fate.
Although we have not had so horrible an experience in this coun- try, our grandparents can easily re- member the locust outbreak of 1874. Millions of acres of crops were destroyed when the Rocky Mountain locusts swarmed over the great plains. Many of the pioneers of the mid -west faced starvation, were compelled to abandon their homesteads, and in the covered wagons to wander over the de- vastated plains in search of food.
Only those who have witnessed one of these locust visitations can realize how swift and complete is the destruction of all vegetation by these ravenous insect swarms. Without a note of warning, sud- denly the sun's face is darkened. Clouds obscure the sky. The air is thick with myriads of flying specks. Descending upon a field, they transform within a few hours the green acres into a barren waste- land.
In the cornfields, even the stalks are eaten to the ground. The locusts sweep clean a field quicker than would a whole herd of hungry steers. In the midst of the inces- sant buzz produced by them, and awed by their terrible destruction to his crops, the farmer stands help- less and bewildered at the collective power of these little creatures that are otherwise so insignificant indi- vidually.
Disastrous as a locust epidemic is
for the farmers, likewise terrifying is their visitation to the city dwel- lers. In 1915 the people of Jeru- salem suffered such an experience.
AFTER the fields, orchards, and vineyards of the Holy Land were devastated, the locusts ran- sacked the homes of the people. Squeezing through cracks of closed doors and windows, they chewed up lace curtains, upholstery, and clothing. Frantically, the women swept them from the walls and roofs of their dwellings, but to no avail. They got enmeshed in their clothes, and exuded a nasty, dark fluid that soiled their garments most disgustingly. Their thorny legs scratched the skin as they crawled down people's backs. Their bite was like that of a horsefly. And everywhere the locusts left behind them their droppings, as repulsive as those of mice.
The piles of dead locusts were shoveled off of the streets daily by hundreds of men, while others carted them out of the city to be burned before they rotted. All of the railroad trains were delayed, and many of them stopped com- pletely, when they encountered a locust swarm. Great masses of the crushed little carcasses make the rails so oily and slippery that the wheels lose their traction.
The actual size of these locust swarms seems incredible. In 1927 Dr. C. B. Williams, famous en- tomologist then stationed in East Africa estimated that there were 1 2 billion insects in one swarm that flew over his experiment station there. This swarm was 50 miles long, \J/2 miles wide, and 100 yards deep. Flying at the rate of six miles an hour, it took nine hours to pass over the station.
Those were Desert locusts that had migrated from Egypt and Arabia, a distance of 2,000 miles. To distinguish the migratory spe- cies of locusts from those that do not fly great distances, entomol-
ogists refer to the latter as grass- hoppers. They are really the same insects, and by some, the terms are used interchangeably. In our country, we have no migratory species at the present time, the Rocky Mountain Locust being now extinct.
Four other species of grasshop- pers, however, developed tremen- dous populations in the middle west, and ruined crops worth mil- lions of dollars last year. They laid untold myriads of eggs in the ground. In some sections as many as 5,000 to 10,000 eggs were laid to the square foot of soil.
Mother Nature provides amply for the protection and survival of these little eggs. She has the female grasshopper dig a hole in the ground about two inches deep. Then the eggs are voided in a mucous fluid that later hardens and forms a protection around them. She then kicks soil over the hole, filling it up carefully again.
The tenacity and endurance of these little eggs is amazing. They will withstand extremely low tem- peratures, and moisture of any de- gree, surviving all kinds of soil con- ditions, unless they are exposed to the air and dried out. Periodically during the winter Minnesota ento- mologists dug eggs out of the frozen ground, reared those grass- hoppers in their laboratories, and had them survive practically 100%.
The egg-pods may each contain anywhere from 20 to 130 eggs. Each female my lay from 2 to 20 egg-pods during the summer, de- pending upon climatic conditions. During a long, dry, warm summer they lay eggs very freely, and con- tinue doing so until the first freeze- up in the fall. The weather has been ideal for them during the past three years, which accounts for this epidemic.
There are only two ways of combating these insect pests — poisoning them and destroying
420
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA, JULY, 1934
their eggs. Entomologists have experimented with various kinds of poison baits, and have found that a mash composed of coarse wheat bran, arsenic, molasses, salt arid water is the best bait. Plowing, disking, and harrowing the egg- infected soil will expose them to the
drying action of the wind and sun, or will bury them so deeply in the ground that the tiny hoppers can- not emerge to the surface when they hatch out in the spring.
N
O doubt the ancient people who were afflicted with locust pla-
gues did theifc utmost to combat those ravaging hordes of insects, but with little success. Even as recently as 1915 in Palestine only primitive methods were used in fighting them, and the very poor people were compelled to eat the (Continued on page 448)
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Charity
"\7"E who desire to be truly wise ■*■ Look at another with understanding
eyes. If in your opinion he is not doing right. Have you and he conquered the same bitter
fight? Have you and he traveled the same rough
road? Have your backs been burdened with the
same heavy load? If by some magic you could borrow his
eyes, And see where his thorny rough pathway
lies, Your opinion would wither and die in
rebuke And forever remain as the silent dumb
mute. Then your soul will arise And with compassion smother, Because you'll have learned Every man is your brother.
— Eldced Knight.
My House For You
A LONG a winding mountain trail, ■*^* Where, thru the trees, I see a glimpse
of blue, Where quaking aspens move their leaves
of green. There, dear, I'll build a house for you.
A lake is near, and to its edge
Come marching stalwart pines of somber
hue; And joyful birds unite in ceaseless song; I'm building there a house for you.
Wild flowers are there, and at the morn When Phoebus comes to gather up the
dew — The rustling leaves, the lake — all make me
glad That here I've built my house for you. — Bird ice Crouch.
My Boy
"yOU'RE a darling little rascal, *■ Tho' I've spanked you twice today! (My child book says that spanking Will not help you to obey.)
But you got into my icebox — And drank some heavy cream!
And when I called you to me
Was it temper made you scream?
Between you and your sister
You broke my sewing box And found my sharpest scissors
To cut your golden locks.
You're such a little angel
When you're laughing in your swing — My work must cease, — I listen —
With merry voice you sing.
Perhaps when you are older,
And reason you can see, My course in Child Psychology
Will be some use to me.
— Leone Rose.
A BLESSED event is of interest 'at any time and in any locality, and it is with particular pride that the Era announces the new arrival — New Poets — whose advent was predicted in an early spring number of the magazine.
Many poems have been submitted which space prevented our using; others are on hand to be printed in later issues of the Era. We are con- fident that readers of the Improve- ment Era will be united in their interest in the work of new writers and also in the promise it gives of greater work to come.
Why Should We Look on Death as Sad
WHY should we look on death as sad? Why should we feel as if we had Suddenly faced an empty world When death her out-stretched arms has
curled Around a form so near our heart? We felt we could not bear to part; Our spirits lived before their birth Into their dwellings here on earth, Lived in a spirit world with God; And in that world we spirits trod Amid the works of higher form Than those now seen midst sea and storm.
Can death then end such spirits' lives As from life's stormy sea it drives The frail barks drifting o'er the tide? No, they past death's dark portals glide, To sail a calmer, broader sea Until another port they see. Thus on they sail through storm and calm, Held in the hollow of His palm; Thus on they ride, forever on, Passing from sea to sea and gone, At last to sail a sea so broad Its bounds are known to none save God. — James J. Casto.
Welcome
WELCOME April! * " The Easter rabbit comes a knocking Knocking on your very door. With his Easter basket swinging, And the little song he's singing, Can't you see! Can't you hear? Oh, a month of spring is here.
Welcome May!
All the breezes are so gay,
Tossing perfume on the air,
Scents from blossoms pink and blue,
Pretty flowers of every hue
Can't you see! Can't you hear?
Oh a month of bloom is here.
Welcome June! All the children are a playing, School is out and books forgotten, Jumping rope and playing ball, Here is one and there is all. Can't you see! Can't you hear? Oh a month of fun is here.
— Paula BloomReld.
Answer
A T first I wondered why you came **■ And hurt me so. Once, long ago, My life was young, aflame With eagerness, but now The eagerness is gone, and I am old, some- how.
I wondered why you came to me
To hurt me so.
But now I know.
Pain has given way to clarity:
Each life must run its gamut, low and
high. Through loving you, I learned to suffer
and to cry.
— Betty Watt.
Beauty
WHAT is beauty? and they answer me: "It is anything that is pleasing to see, The birds and the bees flitting here and
there A child kneeling while at prayer, Mountainous peaks lifted on high, Various colored clouds seen in the sky; Music holds something beautiful and true, Literature, nature — and art too, Each and everyone beautiful in its way — Sometimes sombre, mostly gay."
All these are so wonderful and fine But are they as beautiful and half as divine As that sweetest, loveliest Mother o' mine?
— Billie Clarke.
To the Southern- Arizona Pioneer
ENDLESS plains of cacti, sage and sand, Pierced with jagged, lonely mountains Staunchly guarding a long- forsaken land,
Writhing in the rays of an angry sun. White bones along the way, bleached and dry, The rattlers' repulsive coil, The hungry vultures wheel aloft and cry, Dust clouds shift on the parched and sun-baked soil.
A struggling, slow, plodding caravan —
The way has been, both hard and long, Wheels sink deep in the bleached, glimmer- ing sand. But grim-faced men push on and on. Night falls and the sunset flames red and gold, Desert winds softly, wearily sigh. Purple shadows, the grim, gaunt peaks enfold As friendly lizzards scuttle by.
Glorious stars glimmer from the blue, And a mantle of stillness descends. Men's cherished dreams are born anew, To them, its mystic strength the desert lends. They stay to conquer and to learn, Until like the majestic Sahuaro; They too, stand unbowed, unbent and firm — - Unafraid to welcome each tomorrow. — Minnie Seaver.
422
"As Little Children"
o
UR little "dead end" street has such a friendly look. Beautiful elm trees line either side, and all the front porches are within calling distance of one another. But it is a lonely little lane, be- cause no one ever calls. Quarrels over such things as parking space and stolen green apples have ended with "you low down Irish Cath- olic," and in return, "you high hat leaguer — want to run the town." This tale concerns the latter, my neighbor, up the street three doors, Mrs. Herman Ellsworth Brown, of the Montclair Junior League.
Mrs. Brown and I have three children each, of about the same ages — the only thing we have in common. There are no other little children on the block.
It was late in October, a balmy, lazy day, when I heard little Her- man Brown (everyone called him "Brownie") tell my Mary Lou about the party. The children had made a lovely bed of leaves just under the solarium windows. They were sitting now, buried nearly to their waists, and a soft rustling sound accompanied their voices.
"I'll be six, and Mother says it will be a Hallowe'en party. You got a costume?"
"Uh-huh. Mother brought me a Japanese costume when she went away this summer. It has shoes that just cover my toes."
"Gee, can you walk in 'em? We're goin' to play games."
"I've got new slippers that I wear to Sunday School. Maybe they'd be better for games."
"I went to Sunday School and got a picture of Jesus." Brownie had coaxed his mother to take him to Sunday School ever since he had been in the neighborhood, because Mary Lou and the babies went every Sunday.
"I didn't get a picture of Jesus." Mary Lou was regretful, but then brightened. "But I heard about Joseph Smith."
By LEONE ROSE
Two mothers and two little children figure in this story by a new writer. The plot is not strong> perhaps partly be- cause the writer says it is a true story y but the tone is sincere.
Just then the maid came for Brownie. I wondered if he would remember the name Joseph Smith. It seemed so unlikely I thought no more about it, but made a mental note to examine the Japanese cos- tume. It would no doubt need pressing.
The Browns were always having parties for their children. Mary Lou had come home from the last one with balloons, a gift from the big pie on the table, candy, and a paper hat. I knew the Hallowe'en party would be a grand affair.
The next few days were busy ones. My cousin came to New York, enroute to Germany on a mission. Tuesday and Wednesday, as soon as the girl who sometimes helped me could come over from school, I left her with the children and went to New York.
Thursday there was
quite a lot of accumulated work to be done. It was such a beautiful day the two little ones, Marjy, three, and Bobby, two, were put in the back yard to stay and play. As I placed a gingerbread in the oven and turned to wash the dishes, I was suddenly conscious of too much silence. I listened but could hear no chattering voices. With a shiny nose and mussy housedress I darted out the front door. There were the babies sitting contentedly on the Browns' front porch. The Brown babies always went to the park with a maid at this hour, but
no doubt Marjy was going to wait for them to return. Experience had taught me that they never "stayed put," so I had better bring them where I could hear their voices. I hated calling to them, so walked up the street.
"Marjy, Mother wants you and Bobby to stay in the back yard today because I'm very busy."
"Is this cleaning day?" Marjy had heard me say busy before.
"No it isn't cleaning day but — ." I heard a step and Mrs. Brown came out on the porch. She had most beautiful naturally curly hair that always made me wonder how mine looked, and today she was smartly dressed for a shopping trip, I judged.
"How do you do, Mrs. Patton." She was friendly enough at times, but never waited for anyone else to speak or finish what they began.
"Mother, we were playing we went to Sunday School," said Marjy.
"Tundy Tule," echoed Bobby.
"Good morning, Mrs. Brown." I finally was heard. Marjy was pulling my hand. "Marjy, you and Bob play Sunday School is over and run home now. That's good children."
The children dashed off and Mrs. Brown said, "Your children are always playing Sunday School. Where do you go to church?"
"There's no branch of our Church in Montclair, but we have a chapel in East Orange. We're Latter-day Saints."
"Oh indeed! Brownie said Mary Lou spoke of Joseph Smith. Is yours the Mormon Church?"
"Yes we are sometimes called Mormons because of our Book of Mormon."
"Umm — I suppose." She look- ed worried, and then to the great relief of both of us her phone rang. I knew her maid would answer, but I had visions of my gingerbread turning up its edges with too much
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA, JULY, 1934
423
heat, so with no reluctance on either side we parted.
X RIDAY afternoon, just as the babies were awakening from their naps, Mary Lou came rushing in from school very much excited.
"Mother, Mother, get me ready, it's Brownie's party. I'm to wear my costume, Mother, but my new shoes, not the Japanese ones, so I can run in the games."
My heart sank. There had been no invitation to the party, and the Browns always sent invitations. Was this because of Joseph Smith? What should I tell my child? The truth, but not quite all the truth. Maybe a little white lie. My thoughts ran pell mell.
"Mary Lou — listen just a min- ute. You are not invited to this party, because it's just for Brownie's cousins, and relatives. I talked to his mother yesterday. You're not invited this time, (or any other time I wondered?) be- cause you are just a friend." How pathetic and lame it sounded. "I'll tell you what we'll do, we'll all go to the park."
"I don't want to go to the park. I want to go to the party. I know lots of Brownie's cousins. I want to go." Tears were near the sur- face.
"Listen, honey, we can't go to parties unless we're invited."
"Brownie invited me, Mother. He said 'did I have a costume'."
"But Brownie's mother sent in-
vitations in the mail, and we didn't get one.
"I'll go see. I'll tell her our invitation didn't come." She started so quickly down the stairs I left the babies and went after her. We sat on the steps together. Cars were stopping up the street and happy youngsters dressed as goblins and witches were chasing one another. If they would only go inside!
"I know how you feel, dear, but I'll phone Daddy to — ." She was sobbing and shook off my hand when I would have petted her. I left her alone and quickly dressed the babies.
"Why sister c'y?" asked Bobby. Mentally I answered, "Because of Joseph Smith."
Somehow we got dressed and over to the park whefre Daddy picked us up in the car, and we all had ice cream before dinner — an outrageous treat.
Aftei
iR breakfast next morning we were all in the back yard. Just as I would have called Mary Lou to help gather some late nasturtiums, Brownie came around the corner of the house. Mary Lou rushed right up to him.
"Why didn't I get an invitation to your party?" The blessed in- formality of children.
"Because of Joseph Smith." Brownie was nonchalant, but I gasped.
"How could he do it? He's dead."
"Is he dead? I heard Mother tell Joe's mother you belonged to his Church. Gee! I sure pulled a good one on Mother. I wouldn't eat 'till she got you, but when Gretchen came down for you, -she said no one was home. Why did you go away?"
"We went to the park." Such a sad little voice for my gay Mary Lou.
"I'm going to tell Mother Jos- eph Smith is dead. She doesn't know, I guess." Off he tore to enlighten his mother.
A sigh went all through me, but I didn't know how to improve on the children's method of settling things.
A little later in the day, Mrs. Brown came down. I broke the ice.
"No doubt we were both a little embarrassed by the party yesterday, but in the future, if you wish, I'll have the children out of the way and we'll save all the tears." My voice trembled in spite of my in- tense preparation of this speech, and my smile must have been pathetic because tears came to Mrs. Brown's eyes.
"I'm so ashamed. I've never known a Mormon before. I'll never again let it make any differ- ence with the children.
I wanted to talk to her, but we were both crying, so she left.
We are neighbors, and the ice is broken over the field of religion, with what results no one can tell.
And as far as the children are concerned, Joseph Smith is dead.
»>-
«io<*ef9V2i*-
-<-
I
A Parah.
WAS once camping out
hunting cattle with a
bunch of men. One of them had an outlaw as an ideal. He had had an ex- tremely smart horse and we were talking about the
sagacity of that horse when some- to keep a fire on the Iron moun- one asked him if the horse could tain in order that I might cross the
By
THE
DREAMER
(A Pioneer)
tell an unmarked or branded calf, as some had said he could. He said, "No, that is just a joke, but when I start him after an animal he will never lose track of it." Then he started to tell us a story. He said:
"I once went to Pioche with a bunch of beef. They were not all mine and I did not want to be seen coming back so my friend was
desert in the night. So I left the mountain near Desert Spring at dark. It was about ten miles be- fore we reached the flat of the des- ert. I was afraid, when I reached the flat of the desert where there were low places from which I could not see the fire for some time, that I would not be able to tell where to look for the fire. But when I went into a low flat where I could
enot see the light and then come on high ground where I could see it, the light of the fire was right between that horse's ears, so, I knew that he knew that that fire was where we were going. He had learned that in the first ten miles. So all night long I had no trouble about it. He would avoid obstacles and always come back to the line." The young man thought that was almost human.
Now I thought it taught a great lesson to mankind; it taught the necessity of having a beacon light, a great ideal in life to guide us through the desert of life, the temp- tations and byways. There are some who are as the scriptures say,
424
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA, JULY, 1934
unstable, wafted about with every wind of doctrine. The modern way of saying it is they are drifters who are just what their environ- ment makes them. If they had some great beacon light of a high ideal always in sight, they wouldn't be turned so easily.
I believe a man ought to know what he would do before a great temptation came into his life. If a man took stock of himself he would know himself better and be
prepared. I have a little story of my life.
I was going to get some seed grain from a certain man. He was not at home and I had some trouble finding him. When I found him he said, "Why did you not go and get it. I would just as soon you would get it without me as with me." He said, "You go now and get the wheat. I can't go."
So I went and my boy about ten or twelve was with me w'hen we
were sacking the grain. The boy said to me, "Daddy, I would like, when I am a man, that men will say of me the same that man said of you today."
He is a man today and is hon- ored among men especially for his honesty.
All organizations of men have a constitution and by-laws. Every man is an organization and cannot live with any security without a constitution as a standard of cour- age and virtue.
*-
— OG^-fg/Xlt*
-<*
By
Mae Huntington
Through the Birches
THROUGH the Birches," one of the most highly-prized canvases in the Springville High School, was added to the school's col- lection in 1932 as a student body purchase.
The artist, Wal- ter Koeniger, was born in Germany, May 6, 1881. He now lives at Woodstock, New York.
The canvas por- trays a summer secene painted in colors and breathing an atmosphere of peace and of well-being. It is such a scene as James Whitcomb Riley might have had in mind when he wrote:
clear, bright
"Out-of-doors I'd ruther be — Needn't fence it in for me!- — ■ Jes, the whole sky overhead, And the whole airth underneath — Sorto so's a man kin breathe Like he ort, and kindo has Elbow room to keerlessly Sprawl out lengthways on the grass In the shadders thick and soft."
MASTERLY PAINTING PURCHASED FOR SPRING- VILLE COLLECTION BY STUDENTS— 1932
A HALF-FORGOTTEN road which becomes lost in the dis- tance is intriguing in its suggestive- ness of brook-gladdened meadows, of limitless expanse of sun-kissed hills and shadowy dells beyond. But always before one becomes lost in contemplation of the mysteries which lie at the end of the road, the eye is lifted "from the common sod to a purer air and a broader view" by the leafy arms of the up- ward-reaching birches. Their beauty and grace are enhanced by
a bright shaft of sunlight which, by the artist's mag- ic, is more than a streak of light; it is a ray of hope, an uplift to the soul that is keenly felt as one studies the landscape.
Lord Rosebery's tribute to books may be made equally applicable to such a painting as this: "There is a time when (art) is an end in itself and that is to re- fresh and recruit after fatigue, depression of spirit, or suffering. When the object is to refresh and to exalt, to lose the cares of this world in the world of im- agination, then a (work of art) is more than a means. It is an end in itself. From any work, manual or intellectual, the man comes in tired and soured and falls under the spell of some great master, who raises him from the ground and takes him into a new heaven and a new earth, where he forgets his bruises and rests his limbs, and he returns to the world a fresh and happy man."
LIGHTS and SHADOWS on tee SCREEN
425
DOUBLE DOOR (Para.) : Superbly done thriller concerning three remaining members of a de- cadent old family of wealth, in which a melodramatic story is lifted to a high plane of pictorial beauty, tense drama and genuine excitement. Adults and Young People.
Voice in the Night (Colum.) : Though melodramatic in spots, this story of the work of a telephone com- pany in carrying service to humanity will have an appeal for the entire Family.
The Last Gentleman (United Artists) : A fascinating performance in which George Arliss plays a lovable old gentleman who uses his wits to set things right. Pervaded with humor, fine idealism and a sense of justice, it is unique and refreshing and leaves a satisfying impression. Family, except young children.
HALF A SINNER (Univ.) : Some- what machine-made melodrama, based on the play "Alias the Deacon," in which a wandering card sharper drops into a little town and plays the good fairy to young lovers and avenger to a crooked gang. Adults and Young People.
ISLE OF FURY (Warners) : Story of political Irish question, with both sides handled sympathetically and inter- woven with a love story and much charm. Adults and Young People.
Bulldog Drummond Strikes BACK (2 Oth Cent.): Exciting detec- tive story with never a moment be- tween hair-breadth escapes and hilarious comedy. Wedding-night comedy mars an otherwise delightful melodrama. Adults.
Manhattan Melodrama (M. G. M.) : Story of two boys, orphaned in boyhood, who are raised as brothers, and continue their devotion through life, although their paths take one into positions of high idealism and the other into ways of crime. Strong cast and superb direction. Adults.
Man With Two Faces (War- ners) : Melodramatic mystery of un- principled husband who has hypnotic power over his actress wife. Clever production of its type. Adults and Young People.
Affairs of Cellini (20th Cen- tury) : Lavish pageantry of 1 6th century court life with story lagging far behind settings in interest. Ques- tionable taste mars the entire produc- tion. Frank Morgan splendid.
Viva Villa (M. G. M.): Per- haps not historically accurate, yet Pancho Villa becomes very real — a valiant roisterer, cruel savage, yet sor- rowing peon, worshiping his guiding spirit. Adults.
Among the Best This
Month
For Family
City Limits (Monogram) . Ferocious Pal (Principal) . I'll Tell the World (Universal) . Man Trailer (Columbia) . Tarzan and His Mate (M. G. M.) . Voice in the Night (Columbia) .
For Adults and Young Adults
All Men Are Enemies (Fox) .
Beyond Bengal (Showmen's Pic- ture) .
The Double Door (Paramount) .
Such Women Are Dangerous (Fox) .
Twenty Million Sweethearts (First National) .
Viva Villa (M. G. M.) .
The Witching Hour (Paramount) .
The seven groups who preview pictures and make up these lists, classify audience as follows: Chil- dren— up to 14 years; Adolescents — from 14 to 18 years; Young Adults — 18 to 25 years; Family — children accompanied by adults.
Little Miss Marker: One of the best pictures of the year. Equal in production values and story to Lady for a Day, it has as well the plus value of Shirley Temple, the new child actress who puts the breath of life into her acting. Family.
All Men Are Enemies (Fox) :
'LITTLE MISS MARKER"
A young Englishman parted by the Great War from the girl he loves deeply, finds her after tragic years. Beautifully acted, with lovely settings, the tragic charm which finds a comfort- ing solution, carries unusual power. Children would not enjoy it.
CITY LIMITS (Monogram) : Fast moving story of dyspeptic railroad president who falls off his car into a hobo camp will entertain entire Family.
Merry Andrew (Fox) : Will
Rogers in an amusing and pathetic role of a small-town business man whose wife insists on his selling out to a chain, leaving him nothing to do. Family. Most Precious Thing in Life
(Colum.) : Fine human story of a frail little cleaning woman in a college dormitory who finds her son, long lost, one of the boys for whom she cleans. Without disclosing herself, she helps him through a crisis. Family.
Such Women Are dangerous (Fox) : Pleasant, clean little social comedy of captivating novelist who finds himself in complications. Family.
WHIRLPOOL (Colum.): Story of released convict who meets his win- some 20 year old daughter, whom he has never known, and the joyous week they spend together. With much melo- drama, and no attempt at greatness, it succeeds in being unbelievably ap- pealing. Adults and Young People.
The Witching Hour (Para.) :
Story of old question of hypnotic in- fluence done captivatingly and brilliant- ly, in spite of an outworn plot. Hu- man characterizations. Family, ex- cept young children.
Change of Heart (Fox): Four college graduates in New York seeking their fortunes form the basis for a charming and effective picture. Gaynor and Farrell re-united. Family.
Twenty Million Sweethearts (Warners) : Romance of golden- voiced singer on the radio. Clean and entertaining revue. Family.
Call it Luck (Fox) : When a London "cabby" wins a small fortune and brings his lovely young niece to New York, he finds a way to get even with the men who fleece him. Nice blend of fantasy and realism. Family.
The Circus Clown (Warners)-.
Joe E. Brown is remarkable in his trapese work under the big tent but certain unfortunate elements preclude its recommendation for children. Adults and Young People.
Thirty Day Princess (Para.): Clever, though not convincing, picture of a princess set down in America, and when she has mumps, a double has to take her place. Family.
426
miti*
Life Ends at Forty
Anonymous (Forum for April, 1934)
I AM a single woman of forty, and I know right well that I am not standing with expectant feet on the threshhold of life. No religion, no brand of scientific optimism, no cheer leader for middle age can alter this conviction. For forty years I have been literally drugged with the senti- mentality which was fostered in me and the principles imbedded in me so that now at forty, through a grim de- termination to be an individual and not an echo of my parents, I have been jerked out of the pleasant paths of sentimentalism into the realism that is life. I know that life does not begin at forty.
I can't, of course, speak for the whole human race; many will contend that mine is a special case, for I am a spinster and a school teacher, and was cursed as a child with fanatically pious parents. But is mine a special case? Women today, from thirty-five to forty-five, are a damned race. They may be found on every hand — impo- tent Rachels weeping not for their children, but for their lost woman- hood, refusing to be comforted for no comfort is possible. Everything that meant life to them has gone up in smoke. For them old things are shat- tered and they cannot adjust themselves to the new.
And what is offered them? Health, exercise, diet — a sane regimen of work and play. Imagine such advice for an intelligent person! Where is the book that will suggest substitutes for the veal things in a woman's life? Give us an alternative for the joyous romance that youth monopolized; for the charm that will check the ebbing tides of a wom- an's love. Show us that it is possible to be romantic at forty — that it is pos- sible to know the experiences to which every woman has a right. Countless women know that there are no substi- tutes for these things.
Being a spinster hasn't much to do with the situation. I know many women of forty who are married — but who are spinster-minded, due to Puri- tan upbringing. One refined, cultured, religious woman recently said to me: "Any extreme of honesty is better than the ignorance and lies on which I was reared. My marriage is a night- mare— I cannot adjust — I merely school myself to endure." Her curse was that her upbringing had made her spinster-minded.
Yes, it is all too tragically true that for many life ends at forty; those who know that three things are necessary to living, know that at forty they have not a sporting chance of finding them ; — money, a mission and a mate. There are thousands who will denounce me for listing money as one of the vital needs. Let them denounce! I am not talking of riches— merely of- money that makes food and clothes and edu- cation and health and play possible. A few years ago I would have extolled the virtues of Lady Poverty as zeal- ously as any of her worshipers; but I have turned apostate. I used to be- lieve that "My gold is laid up in sun- sets, safe from thieves, and all my current silver is in the stars," but now I know that when we make stars and sunsets synonymous with material commodities we are lying. It is my experience that people who claim that money is non-essential live on the earn- ings of others. In the depression I lost my saving — at forty I am faced with the necessity of starting all over to save for my old age. I worked hard for it and stinted myself to save it; and when well-intentioned friends tell me to count my blessings and for- get the bank, I see red. Money is es- sential in my life, and will be in every woman's life as long as she is judged by her clothes, complexion and beauty- parlor bairdress. If a woman starts out to make money at forty, what must she do? Exercise, dress, massage — everything to hide the truth that she has reached this delectable age. The world wants youth — and at forty youth is over and done for a woman.
So much for money! How about a woman's second need — a mission? I purposely use that word instead of "profession," for mission means that for which one is called or sent or pre- destined. I hold that a woman's mis- sion is to look after a home and to bear and rear children, intelligently, and for the man she loves. I was by nature one who wanted to cuddle dolls and kiss little boys. But to what avail? I was taught that a man who would come courting wanted a soul-union; that the things of the body were low. But now I know that a man wants in a woman a lovely body as well as intelligence and spirituality — for she is to be the mother of his children.
^^:
And at forty there is little chance of filling this mission. I bolster up my courage by declaring that I am en- gaged in the noblest of all duties^ — that of school teacher; but I know that no one is more subject to taunts and ridi- cule than the school teacher — that per- fect type of good, heroic womanhood. I find some balm in letters from par- ents which I read on lonely nights — telling me how much I have helped this one, or that. But behind the suc- cessful school teacher is the real me — a lonely woman in the forties who has failed in her real mission.
And lastly, what of a woman's need for a mate? This is so elemental that one hardly needs enlarge upon it. Does life begin at forty in this regard? No. Men do not mate readily with a woman of forty, and for. her the love that transfigures, that makes her a flame dancing on a mountain top, is no longer possible. Today the words that wring my heart and bring a sob to my throat are those uttered by Chris- tina Rosetti, who refused for religious scruples two men who had offered her their love, and regretted her folly ever after:
"Too late for love,
Too late for love!
Too late! Too late!
Too long you lingered on the road
And loitered at the gate."
To awaken at forty and realize that it is too late for love — that is tragedy. And nothing can be done about it. I never feel, even in my loneliness, to blame my parents; they wrought as they thought best. But if I meet them in the vaster halls of death I shall say, "It was a pitiful mistake. The body you taught me to renounce was beauti- ful— far too sensitive a thing to have been created by an intelligent God for the sole purpose of subjugation. I learned too late that it was a lovely. living thing — capable of ecstasy; not the enemy of the soul, but the ex- pression of it."
Of course at forty one is able to develop a protective stoicism; I have lost my venture in life and I know it — poets and philosophers must come to my aid. I can drench myself in transcendentalism. I can continue to shape the immortal souls of my pupils. The cynicism now mine is not de- spair— it is rather the virtue of a calm courage retained by one disappointed in life. I know all this. So be it! But let no one tell me to awake, arise, for forty is here, and life's glorious morning is dawning and I can begin to live! Like hell I can'
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA, JULY, 1934
427
Renascence at "Forty
By Lucile Grenbenc (Forum for June, 1934)
(Replying to "Life Ends at Forty")
AS I take stock of myself at forty, 1 "^ find a woman with healthy chest- nut hair, good skin and eyes, a few crowsfeet, a trace of heaviness under the chin and a line setting from the nasal folds to the corners of the mouth. And I find one who is just beginning to live; who has suddenly found life full of mystery and hitherto unguessed charm — a woman who like a perennial is just waking up; the preparatory period is over; the physical develop- ment is left behind; the spirit is coming into its own.
Money — for what? There is too much talk about its importance in these times. In my experience, money, as such, has no bearing upon my con- tacts with others, particularly in form- ing and holding friendships. Beauty parlors are not a necessity — hair can be shampooed by oneself and creams ap- plied for the keeping soft of the skin — and there is something repulsive to me about a middle-aged woman trying to shake off ten years or more. And with the focussing of attention upon the outward signs of appearance, all sight of the inward woman is lost. We have failed as women if middle age has not replaced youth's values. Youth has only youth — age has better things — understanding, richness, tolerance. I am happier than many who have money, for no amount of it could make me any happier than I am with what I have.
So much for money; now what of a mission in life? I am like other women, with a deep-seated desire to give — which might mean to reproduce. But life is not so simple now as in the dawn of history; spiritual and mental factors now complicate the simple physical process of perpetuating the species. As I look about me in ma- ternity wards of hospitals I wonder where all these poor infants with poor heritable backgrounds will go. The fatuous argument that one never knows when another Edison or Beethoven may be found, leaves me cold. For myself, I would rather continue sterile than to add by one iota to the aggregate of mediocrity simply to express a bio- logical urge in me which can be diverted to other channels. To have a child merely for the sake of having one is egotism.
And now the mate problem! So far as possibilities of marriage at forty, Rachel need not* sit down in the ash heap and mourn; there is every possi- bility of marriage for ten years yet; all desirable men are not permanently annexed. But suppose there is no man for the woman of forty. Life still does not end. Why should it? The whole of existence, of which marriage is only
a part, is based upon a compensatory scheme. Suppose I don't experience in full measure the perfect union before I die? Suppose I don't have a child? What then? Nothing. Nothing at all. It would be a loss, but would not stop in a single degree the continued growth of my spirit, or prevent me from experiencing new joys in the mir- acle we call life. There is still April rain washing away the frost of winter and uncovering the first shy buds of awakening nature; there is still the sun climbing higher every day, and the wheeling stars at night. As I stand in the deep grass of the wet earth, with a pellucid dome overhead, I sense about me an invisible presence — imperturb- able, impersonal, dispassionate — of which I, as a unit, am an infinitesimal part. Life ending at forty? I have just discovered that it begins. And what a wealth of discovery lies still before me!
Challenge to Middle Age
Anonymous (Harper's for June, 1934)
TATHEN I was a child, I feared middle age, for the grown people about me all were smilingly indulgent and dull — -and I willed myself never to be- come like them. As I grew older and realized that symptoms of middle age were upon me, I felt that life had beaten me; all I could do was to watch apprehensively as it robbed me of the different stages of the cherished glow of youth. However, the latent egotism which saves human beings from despair, told me that middle-age still was far away; and in my youth I had deter- mined to stave it off longer than anyone else in the world ever had done it. And in this frame of mind I met my fatal fortieth birthday — I still felt young, and all my friends seemed young.
Then a curious thing happened. My friends — three of them — passed through my mind with analytical clar- ity, and my evaluation of them showed me new truths. One, who gave every appearance of mental and physical ac- tivity, had set into a mold; she did not think any longer — she only seemed to think because she so forcefully express- ed the ideas she had been thinking for years. Another, divorced years before and adopting a resentful attitude to- ward men, had for fifteen years re-
Clouds
By Fern Rose McBride
T LIKE fluffy, gentle clouds
Floating 'gainst the quiet blue And the tinted ones that linger When the sun is through.
But of all the shapes and colors To me, the nicest kind
Is the clouds — which like our troubles- Are often silver-lined. .
mained completely static, grimly hold- ing on to a pattern of behavior which she had established in youth, and her rigid adherence to it had shut her out of many new experiences and made further development impossible. The third one I saw engaged in such an active struggle to hold on to charm and magnetism of youth that she was becoming almost ridiculous in the me- chanics of her battle to remain young.
That night I considered myself, my behavior, my mental reactions, in the new light which had come to me. I had lost youth, and perhaps elasticity and flexibility as well. I recalled a conversation with a young girl I had had a few days previously, during which she had expressed an idea en- tirely new to me and my first impulse had been to dismiss it — because it was new. Youth had challenged my mid- dle-aged superiority, and instead of lis- tening with interest to what this girl had had to say, I had rejected it. Be- fore I knew it, my assumption of superiority might close my ears and eyes to all the new and strange things happening in the world around me. What sort of person was I, really? Was middle-age going to submerge me, in spite of my life-long determination to the contrary? As days wore on, I became more and more aware that much of my behavior ran in set grooves; that my middle age was not even a deterior- ation toward decay — it was just a plateau on which all significant spir- itual growth had ceased — a static state. We who had achieved a sense of secur- ity in our early thirties resisted any change from that state — to change would be to risk our security. I re- alized that the first thing I must do was to abandon any hope of secur- ity,— that is destructive. I must impose upon myself discipline having two aspects: one, a