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"♦1830 A CENTURYOF WORLD PROGRESS L930
Vol. 33-41, No. 4
FEBRUAK
Combined with the YOUNG WOMAN'S JOURNAL
Colonel and Mrs. Lindbergh Aid
ists
Z. C. M. I.
Organized 1868 — Salt Lake City, Utah
SELECTED for its motto "Live and Help Others to Live." Imbued with this motive an Overall Factory was established that work might be furnished for residents of the inter- mountain community. They desired to keep money at home, realizing that it is the surplus in a community which upbuilds and develops it. The present management of the institution, determined to add to the structure already created, will continue to de- velop the basic principles upon which the institution was founded.
I Losing Things Out ♦ of Your Pockets ♦ ♦
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LAW TRAINING
This complete 25-volum.e standard size law library is provided to all students at the time of enrollment.
The Aristocrat of Trainin
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LESSON GUIDES
Lesson Guides are mailed at regular
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study of tfie Course.
LECTURES
The Course contains a series of printed lectures written by outstand- ing national authorities on subjects not ordinarily found in law text books.
LAW BULLETINS
A Law Bulletin is distributed each month containing the I atest Supreme Court decisions on matters of espe- cial business interest — an exclusive Blackstone feature.
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And where is the man who has not at some time yearned for law training and the certainty of success it brings?
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Law is the aristocrat among training courses. Law students are stamped as men of discernment and dignity. They are looked upon with respect.
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The Outstanding Course
The Institute delivers prepaid to every student immediately upon enrollment the nationally known 25-volume Modern American Law library, cited as "M. A. L." by the courts of last resort. (See illustration in miniature above.)
This set of text and case books forms the basis of the Course and in addition serves as a valuable reference work upon the entire field of modern day law. Many students have said that this library alone is worth the modest tuition fee asked for the entire Course.
Elaborate Lesson
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Elaborate lesson material is mailed at regular intervals to the student as he progresses through the Course. These lesson units (illustrated in miniature at the left) direct the study efforts care- fully and call attention to the
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The Institute makes no claim that the study of its Course will bring a startling increase in income to every student. Yet many students have reported increases, some as high as 200% before completing the Course.
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Please send me by mail, and without obligation, a copy of your 128-page book, "The Law-Trained Man," and details of your law course and service.
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242
The Improvement Era for February, 1930
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The Improvement Era for February, 1930
243
F
ECAST
It is not too early for Era read- ers to begin to anticipate the Cen- tennial number. On April 6, 1930, one hundred years will have passed since the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was organized. The story of its achievements will be told by those who have played conspicuous parts in its eventful history. It will be an interesting and in some cases a dramatic ac- count of what has occurred. Has science vindicated the assertions of Joseph Smith? Illuminating in- formation on this question will be presented.
The missionary experiences of this hundred years, if fully com- piled, would make a classic, pa- thetic, inspiring,' humorous. The fidelity of men and women under conditions which tried their souls almost to the breaking point was characteristic of this people. The story of it is colorful and faith- promoting.
Our organizations and the op- portunity they give Church mem- bers for that spiritual development which comes only through active service has evoked the wonder of all who have become acquainted with the matter.
"Mormons" have always been a temple building people. This practice has aroused much curious interest, not always favorable, for the world, forgetful of scriptural history, wonders why strangers are not admitted to these sacred pre- cincts. Why have temples been built at great cost in time and money when it was a question as to how the people could live? This subject, too, furnishes material for a dramatic recital.
The temporal welfare of the people and the means at the dis- posal of the Church to supervise their needs is one of the things which places the stamp of divinity upon this system.
What place have the "Mor- mons" attained in art, in literature and in education? The facts in the case aroused the interest of in- telligent visitors to this commun- ity even before the people were established in the Rocky Moun- tains. The thought that "man cannot be saved in ignorance" has been a real contribution to the world.
The Impro?ement Era
Hugh J. Cannon Managing Editor
Melvin J. Ballard Business Manager
Heber J. Grant Editor
Elsie T. Brandley Associate Editor
Clarissa A. Beesley Associate Business Manager
George Q. Morris Rachel Grant Taylor Chairman Finance and Publications
Organ of the Priesthood Quorums, the Mutual Improvement Associations and the Schools of the Church of Jesus Christ
of Latter-day Saints
CONTENTS
Title Editorial —
An Example of Greatness Hugh J. Cannon
A Pioneer Reminiscence Elsie T. Brandley
Colonel and Mrs. Lindbergh Aid Archaeologists — Dr. A. V. Kidder
Washington and Lincoln Bryant S. Hinckley
A Spiritual Philosophy of Life Dean Milton Bennion
A Bit of Forgotten History Hugh J. Cannon
Out of the Burning — A Story (Chapter Three) — Ivy Williams Stone
Bridger Again Fights the Indians Carter E. Grant
Don't Lie to an Indian. A Campfire Story Prof. J. H. Paul
From Ox Cart to Airplane Gertrude Musser
An American Prince Elsie T. Brandley
Poetry
-Grace Ingles Frost
Pane
245 246
247
251
252
254
255
258
261
266
268
271
Gray Days When the Wind Sang Yesteryear Its Babes to Sleep
Mad Waves A Mother Pays
Old Roads Land of Tomorrow
Potential Boy Killer Becomes Shock Absorber Expert
Thomas R. Henry
On the River Road. A Story : Estelle Tearle Metcalf
Recreation in the Home
The Common Sense of Music - ....Sigmund Spaeth
Priesthood Quorums —
Pamphlet for the Melchizedek Priesthood
East Jordan Stake Efficiency Convention
Success in Aaronic Priesthood Work
Field Note .
Mutual Work —
Executive Department
Finance and Publications Department
Community Activity Department *»
Adult Department 1
M Men- Gleaners Department
Gleaner Girls Department Z.
Junior Girls Department ._!
Vanguards-Scouts Department .
Bee Hive Girls Department
272 274 276 278
281 281 282 282
283 285 286 290 292 294 295 296 298
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.
Manuscripts submitted without the statement, "At usual rates," are con- sidered free contributions. Photographs, unless their return is especially requested, will be destroyed.
Published monthly at Salt Lake City by the M. I. A. General Boards; $2 per annum. Address: Room 406 Church Office Building.
244
The Improvement Era for February, 1930
The Brick Man says:
' 'Investigate Face Brick Before You Build"
True enough, the initial cost of a brick home is slightly greater than the cost of one built of less durable material. Brick, however, are everlasting. They are a permanent investment and a genuine asset to the community in which you build.
A few dollars will pay the difference in the first cost of a brick home and this small invest- ment will earn you many, many dollars, year after year in low depreciation, insurance, fuel and upkeep.
Moreover, because of its enduring value, face brick construction is preferred security for mort- gage loans. It's not only the permanence of the material itself, but the strength and pro- tection that it provides in addition to its style and inviting charm.
Don't be misled by the error of initial cost.
REMEMBER— YOUR FIRST COST IS YOUR LAST COST WHEN YOU BUILD WITH BRICK.
THE SALT LAKE
PRESSED BRICK CO.
9 Kearns Building Salt Lake City, Utah
Phone Was. 951
^«J
EDITORIAL
Hugh J. Cannon Managing Editor
Heber J. Grant Editor
Elsie Talmage Brandley Associate Editor
An Example of Greatness
By HUGH J. CANNON
GENERAL Clark, in addressing the Latter-day Saints in Far West in 1838, said: "I would advise you to scatter abroad, and never again organize yourselves with bishops, presidents, etc., lest you excite the jealousies of the people and subject yourselves to the same calamities that have now come upon you. * * * My advice is, that you become as other citizens, lest by a recurrence of these events, you bring upon yourselves irretrievable ruin."
For many years after this famous (or infamous) speech was delivered, many others gave similar counsel to the Church. In some cases the advice was an honest desire to help relieve a vexing situation. More frequently, however, it was inspired by a de- sire to see the complete disintegration of the Church organization. But whatever the motive, it origina- ted with people who did not in the least compre- hend the underlying purpose of this latter-day move- ment.
A few months prior to Clark's harangue, to which reference has already been made, Joseph Smith received a revelation from which the follow- ing is taken: "*** That the rights of the Priest- hood are inseparably connected with the powers of heaven, and that the powers of heaven cannot be con- trolled nor handled only upon the principles of righteousness.
"That they may be conferred upon us. it is true; but when we undertake to cover our sins, or to gratify our pride, our vain ambition, or to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men, in any degree of un- righteousness, behold, the heavens withdraw them- selves; the Spirit of the Lord is grieved; and when it is withdrawn, Amen to the Priesthood or the authority of that man."
That Church leaders have always understood this principle is well illustrated by the following story of President Brigham Young which was related by the late Charles H. Wilcken, who at one time was employed by President Young as miller in the old flour mill at Liberty Park:
Joseph Pollard arrived in the valley from Eng- land in 1857, and at once began to work on Church buildings as a carpenter under the general direction of President Young. He was an out- spoken Englishman, about whose blunt sayings many amusing stories are told.
A portion of the employee's wages was paid in flour, and on the day of settlement a certain a- mount of this staple was allotted to Brother Pol-
lard. At the time, however, he did not need the flour and said he would prefer to draw it later when his supply was exhausted. In due time he called for it, but in the meantime the flour had doubled in price and the man in charge of the tithing office store would give him only half as much as he thought he was entitled to receive.
Indignantly he went to President Young's office and made his complaint in such vigorous language that the president took offense. It should be re- membered that at this time President Young was virtually the lawmaker as well as the enforcement officer. No king in the world held more power in his sphere than did this man, and he was not ac- customed to having people address him in tones such as this poor immigrant used. He became quite as indignant as his visitor and finally ordered him out of the office. The man did not leave im- mediately, and the president told one of his sons to put him out.
Brother Pollard retorted: "President Young you don't have to put me out. I want to tell you one thing, and then I'll walk out. I'm an Englishman and a Latter-day-Saint and the Gospel teaches me to know the difference between right and wrong, and it is not right to cut in half the amount of flour I was to receive." And with that he left the room.
President Young, angered by the tone in which the man had spoken, walked up and down the office for several minutes. Gradually his pace be- came slower and at last he stood in deep meditation. This continued for some little time. At last lie roused himself from his reverie and ordered his carriage. When it came, he drove to the tithing offic, got a sack of flour and took it himself to the humble home of the poor workman with an apology for the manner in which the visitor had been treated.
President Young was virtually a king. In this community, and in those days, his word was su- preme. He considered himself, and was considered by his followers, as the vicegerent of the Al- mighty, the earthly head of the Church of Jesus Christ, but when he felt that he had not been en- tirely just to one who had appealed to him for justice, even though the man's language gave more or less cause for offense, he was humble enough to go in person and make the matter right. It is also interesting to note that Brother Pollard was ele- vated to the position of Bishop of the Fifteenth ward in Salt Lake City during President Young's lifetime.
A Pioneer Reminiscence
By ELSIE TALMAGE BRANDLEY
A
SWEET, white-haired woman recently cele- brated her eightieth birthday in a lovely
home, surrounded with every evidence of luxury and ease. Roses — dozens of them — per- fumed the air with the sweetness of the friendships which had inspired the sending of them; and gifts of all kinds expresed the love of her children and grandchildren.
A few days later, in the same beautiful home this woman — Isabelle Siddoway Armstrong — told me the story of her trip across the plains.
As a child of ten she had made the long, weary march from Council Bluffs, Iowa, to Salt Lake City — the land known in anticipation as "the Valleys." Walking every step of the way, she had pushed a handcart in front of her, and frequently, when her baby brother, too small to trudge the long miles on his little feet became too weary she had picked him up and carried him in her arms a- while.
What an impossible undertaking it would seem today! With railroads, automobiles, and airplanes within easy access, who would consider it humanly possible to walk over the mountains and prairies. pushing a handcart and carrying a small boy?
The woman herself remembers very clearly the details of that trek, and in recounting them she shows the fine spirit of optimism and gratitude which must have helped to buoy her up for the long journey, and to meet the rigorous demands made of her.
"It was not half so bad as you might suppose," she said. "Our company had a real pleasure trip compared with some of the others. You see, we had fairly good weather — it rained, of course, but not for long stretches at a time, and when it stop- ped raining, the sun always came out warm, and dried us all out in no time. None of us died of the heat, and none of us died of the cold. One girl in another company had an experience that was really hard, to my way of thinking. Crowded together in a wagon, trying to keep warm by huddling close to each other, some of the weaker ones froze to death, and this poor young girl who didn't die, found her foot frozen solid to the foot of one who had lost the fight. That is what I call hard.
"And we did have food. Some companies ran entirely out of provisions, and starved along the way. We had no such trouble as that. We were not once completely without something to eat. Oh, of course we had to be very careful at times! I re- member once that we were down to a ration of two ounces of flour a day, each, but that much kept us from starving. And that was not for long. We knew something would come to relieve the situation, and something did. When we neared Pike's Peak, we were just about out of everything but hope. One woman in our company had an idea that some jewelry she had brought along with her might help,
but none of the rest thought it very promising. She had a few little pins and rings and trinkets, and off she started to the trading post to see what she could get for them. The men at the post were mountaineers — 'squaw men,' and none of us could see what use they would have for jewelry, but we had counted without the Indian women. The mountaineers were really very fond of their squaws, and you know how the Indians are for decorations. When they saw that jewelry within their reach, nothing would do but that their men should get it for them. The squaws were good to the moun- taineers, and took fine care of them, and the men, rough as they were, appreciated it. When they saw how much their Indians really wanted the stuff, and good-naturedly began to bargain for it, they were told that the owner wanted 700 pounds of flour, delivered at the 'Mormon' camp, some little distance away. And those men didn't raise a single objection — just went ahead and delivered the flour as they were told. That flour kept us in food until we met the relief party that President Young had sent back from the Valleys to meet us. So you see we had an easy, pleasant journey compared to some.
"Of course we were tired and hungry and thirsty at times, and there were lots of snakes in some places, which was not so pleasant to a little ten- year-old girl; but there were other things to com- pensate. The dancing, for one thing; and the sing- ing. I was too young to enjoy the dancing except as a spectator, but I did enjoy the singing. Every once in awhile the bugler would blow a blast, and we knew it meant to stop and sing, and after that we felt rested. I remember one of the songs along the trail. It went like this:
We may get wet a little, when we have a shower of rain,
The heat i may skin our noses, but they'll soon get well again.
When we think of Zion we forget the wet and pain,
So push on my boys, push on.
There's none can lead a life like us merry 'Mormons' can.
"You see, we realized that we had much to be thankful for; and that we had experienced scarcely any of the hardships that the other companies had known and suffered."
As she finished, there came to my mind some- thing I remembered from the Doc. and Cov., "and he who receiveth all things with thankfulness shall be made glorious; and the things of this earth shall be added unto him, even an hundred fold, yea, more." Because, perhaps, of the glad thankfulness with which she received two ounces of flour for a day's food, she proved her ability to appreciate greater bless- ings, and they have been added unto her. As earthly parents naturally try to supply the needs of grateful children, so the Father in heaven has with kindness and generosity added blessings upon the daughter who regarded the journey with pleasure.
THE IMPROVEMENT ERA
Vol. 33-41
3^
FEBRUARY, 1930
No. 4
Colonel and Mrs. Lindberg, Aid
Archaeologists
Part II — The Aerial Survey of the Maya Region
(All photographs were taken by Colonel and Mrs. Lindbergh, except where otherwise noted)
By DR. A. V. KIDDER Head, Staff of Early American History, Carnegie Institution of Washington
COLONEL Lindberg's recent air-survey of the Maya re- gion of Central America affords a fine example of the va- lue of team play. When a great aviator, a great transportation company, and a great scientific agency put their shoulders to the same wheel, that wheel is bound to turn. The project grew out of a combination of agencies and of interests.
Agencies Participating
THIRST, there was Colonel Lind- bergh who is always seeking opportunity to demonstrate the utility of the aeroplane. Besides, on a former flight, his curiosity had been aroused by glimpses of ancient, jungle-buried cities.
Then there was the Pan- American Airways, Inc. This company, engaged in spreading a network of flying-trails over La- tin America, is anxious to for- ward any project which promises to contribute to popular interest in the regions it serves.
And, lastly, there was Carnegie Institution of Washington whose staff of archaeologists, earth- bound in the forests of Yucatan for years, had longed for the sweeping view which the aero- plane alone can give.
Map of the Maya region showing the course of the day-by-day flights of Colonel Lind- bergh's party and the location of the ruins observed and photographed.
General Objectives
CUCH was the group that has <-* just successfully concluded the only aerial survey ever made of the Maya region of Central America.
Belize, once a stronghold of buccaneers, now capital of British Honduras, was the rendezvous. We met there on October 5th. Col- onel and Mrs. Lindbergh were finishing their swing around the Caribbean. Oliver Ricketson,
Carnegie Institution archaeologist came down from his headquarters in Guatemala City. W. I. Van Dusen of Pan-American Airways and I flew from Miami. That evening we laid plans and gather- ed equipment.
/^\UR general objectives were: to ^ test the aeroplane as an agency for archaeological explora- tion in tropical countries; and to find out once for all whether the ruins of Maya cities could be lo- cated from the air. Above any- thing else, we wished to get an idea of what the Maya country really looks like.
Although archaeologists have been pushing their way into the region for many years, they have been so buried in the welter of for- est, their outlook has been so stifled by mere weight of vege- tation, that it has been impossible to gain a comprehensive under- standing of the real nature of this territory, once occupied by Ameri- ca's most brilliant native civiliza- tion. Such understanding is ab- solutely necessary, because all people, ancient and modern, are largely products of their environ- ment. Hill and plain, water- course and cultivable land shape the destinies of nations more powerfully than do kings and battles.
248
The Improvement Era for February, 1930
Flores is a Guatemalan outpost town situated on a tiny island in Lake Peten. When Colonel Lindbergh and his party landed here the Governor in a launch and the entire population in dug-out canoes came out to the plane to greet the arrivals. Beyond the town are the ruins of Tayasal, the last refuge of the Maya after the Spanish conquest.
T^HE labors of many explorers *• and scientists have made clear the fact that long before the time of Christ there arose in the New World an independent civilization which culminated in the great cities of the Maya Old Empire. These cities were built and occu- pied while Europe was in the Dark Ages, but they, like Rome, fell, and their high tower-temples and many-chambered palace-monas- teries were engulfed by the jungle.
The Maya people then moved northward into what is now Yu- catan, took on a new lease of life and again constructed cities, many of which persisted until the com- ing of Europeans put an end to all native American development. Archaeologists have pieced to- gether a fairly consistent outline of this history but of the Maya country as a whole, of the "lay," so to speak, of the land, we have had, until Colonel Lindbergh's flights, only the scantiest knowl- edge.
"Hopping" the Length of Yucatan
/^NUR problem was clear. We ^ must cover as much of the area as possible, and learn all we could about if. Our equipment was ideal, a Sikorsky amphibian from the Pan-American Airways fleet, capable of sustained flight with either of its twin motors. It carried a radio outfit, a collapsible rubber boat and emergency ra-
tions. Colonel Lindbergh, with his usual thoroughness, added a shotgun, in case a forced land- ing made it necessary to live on the country, and hammocks, cook- ing kit, canteens, medicines and machetes.
The general plan was to strike first into the heart of the Old Em- pire region in northern Guatemala
and then turn north to fly the en- tire length of Yucatan in a single hop.
This would necessitate refuelling at Merida at the extreme northern end of the peninsula. As the dis- tance was so great, and as landing- places were probably non-existent, weight had to be cut to a mini- mum in order that should one en- gine fail, the plane could be counted upon to "hold up" for several hundred miles. Van Dusen and I, therefore, stayed be- hind, and Ricketson, an old hand at Peten travel, acted as observer.
^TAKING off from the harbor ■*■ of Belize the morning of Oc- tober 6th, the course was laid di- rectly up the Belize River, cutting straight across its thousand loops and bends, high above the rapids and shallows that make boat travel so slow.
A hundred miles inland the plane turned northward into the Peten region. In a few minutes the roof-combs of the great temples of Tikal, queen of Old Empire cities, became visible. After circling low for photographs, a straight shot was made for Uaxac- tun, the oldest known Maya city. This site, which Ricketson has been excavating for the past four
Chichen Itza, Yucatan, from the air. At the rear, from left to right are shown: the Ball Court, El Castillo, and the Temple of the Warriors. The cir- cular, tower-like structure in the foreground is the Caracol, thought to have been erected by the Maya for astronomical purposes. Chichen Itza is believed to have been founded not later than 530 A. D. by colonists from the Old Empire region of the Maya to the south and southwest. By 1000 A. D. a Federation of City-States was formed with Chichen Itza as one of the principal units. Under the peaceful conditions which thereupon ensued great buildings of cut stone, elaborately decorated with sculptures and murals were erected on every side. Dissensions within and attacks from without resulted in the conquest of the city, and its abandonment about the middle of the 15th Century. In 1924, under an agreement with the Mexican Government, Carnegie Institution _ of Washington undertook an extensive program of excavation and repair at Chichen Itza, upon which it is still engaged.
The Improvement Era for February, 1930
249
years, was discovered in 1916 by Dr. S. G. Morley of the staff of Carnegie Institution.
pROM Tikal to Uaxactun is a very long day's journey by mule-train, a journey which is made possible only after the trail has been cleared. The Sikorsky did it in exactly six minutes! Ricketson's clearing and camp, and the strange, squat, grotesquely sculptured pyramid which he has laid bare were clearly visible, and were photographed as Lindbergh wheeled close above the tree-tops. Later, in speaking of this part of the trip, Ricketson said: "Colo- nel Lindbergh simply could not believe that it is an all-day ride on a mule from Tikal to Uaxactun." He added: "It is not good for an archaeologist to fly over this re- gion, especially if he is going back. The thought of all day on a mule in contrast to six minutes in an arm chair is unsettling. Besides, the ticks don't fly."
Speeding Towards Merida
"REYOND Uaxactun lay un- ■Ll known, uninhabited country.
and Merida was still four hun- dred miles away; hence no devia- tion could be made from a direct northward course. The sea of jungle proved to be unbroken. Hour after hour the green floor of the tree-tops flowed back under the speeding plane. Ninety miles
Ground view of the Temple of the Warriors, Chichen Itza, Yucatan, as it now stands after excavation and repair by Carnegie Institution of Washington. The Temple proper rests upon a pyramidal foundation 37 feet high and 136 feet square at the base. The hearting of the pyramid is of masonry and is faced with dressed stone carrying richly sculptured friezes of animals, birds, and warriors. A steep stairway 34 feet wide containing 36 stone steps, gives access to the temple platform. Two stone balustrades four feet wide, carved to represent feathered rattlesnakes, rattles at the bottom, fanged heads at the top, flank the stairway Two massive feathered serpent columns, with heads on ground and tufted tail rising fifteen feet above, divide the temple entrance into a triple doorway. During the third season of work (1926) Earl Morris, in immediate charge of excavations, discovered that the Temple foundation covered a smaller and much older temple. Excavation of this earlier structure has yielded information of great archaeological importance.
beyond Uaxactun there appeared a flat-topped pyramid surmount- ed by two temples, the culminat- ing structure of a forgotten and forest-swallowed city. This may be new or may perhaps be a site called Rio Becque, discovered in 1912 by R. E. Mervin, of Pea- body Museum.
Northward again the plane sped, over vast stretches of green, until the palm thatched huts of
The first air view taken of the ruins of Tuluum, an ancient Maya city. These ruins are the largest and best preserved of the known groups along the east coast of Yucatan. The principal buildings are surrounded on three sides by a wall which encloses an area of about 22 acres now covered with tropical bush. Carnegie Institution has sent several expeditions under Morley to study these ruins. The results are described in publication No. 335, Carnegie Institution of Washington.
the first small frontier settlements of Yucatan were reached. Every- one breathed easier in the feeling that they were again over the homes of living men. Thence onward the towns became larger. The forest was dotted with the clearings of Indian cornfields. Fi- nally Merida came into sight and soon the plane settled down upon the landing field.
IT HE party were overnight guests -*■ of Governor Torre Diaz, who has done so much to forward the Institution's work in Yucatan. The first objective of the next day was Chichen Itza, largest of New Empire cities, whose temples and pyramids, cleared by the Mexican government and by Carnegie In- stitution, under Dr. Morley's di- rection, showed snow-white a- gainst the green "bush."
After leaving Chichen Itza the
party turned southward and laid a course for Belize somewhat to the east of the route which was followed the day before. On this return trip the plane passed over country hitherto untraveled; country so densely overgrown that no trace of ruins could be discern- ed.
The flights of these first two days covered approximately a thousand miles, much of it over regions never traversed by white men, and none of it ever before
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seen from the spreading viewpoint of the air. At our conference on the evening of the return to Belize we decided that we must definite- ly train ourselves to recognize tree-shrouded mounds and pyra- mids, to pick out from above, the vague, masked outlines of plazas and temples.
Over a Terrifying Region
C^N the eigth we struck out ^ again for Peten searching for ruins whose general location wc already knew. In this way there were picked up the cities of Yaxha and Nakum and by repeated low circling we taught ourselves this new technique of sky-spying.
Soon we were off to Tikal and Uaxactun, thence easward to a small region (probably new) that could be made out on the skyline from above Uaxactun, and so to the Laguna de Peten, where the Guatemalan outpost town of Flores crowds a tiny island in the lake.
"^7E paid our respects to the YV governor, who came out in a
comb Mountains, dodged be- tween two rain-squalls, and saw to the eastward the silver shine of the sea.
The next few minutes brought one of those incredible transitions possible only to the air traveler. We swung to the north, dipped across the coastline and took the smooth water at a little key miles out in the Gulf of Honduras. After anchoring the plane, we pumped up the rubber boat, and rowed ashore. Half an hour after being over that ghastly, broken, interior wilderness, we were com- fortably cooking lunch under the palms by the coral beach.
Up the Coast From Belize
r\N the fourth day we took off ^ a little after ten, passed north-
(?). Indian village (6 palm- leaf huts in clearing) just (2 mi.) W. (12.20) Off N., bush dry and gray, low, and can see ground now and then between trees. High bush seems to have ended at last site. (12.29) Cir- cled low over Indian huts, people running into houses and into bush. (12.35) Six house village. (12.37) Bush dry and deader looking than ever, think some of these trees must shed leaves at this season. Small rain-squalls all about, air bumpy. (12.39) Large, low mound directly below in In-
" '\
Indian village south of the Cocks- comb Mountains in very wild and in- accessible country. When the plane first appeared high over head many people were visible about the houses but when it dove down for Mrs. Lindbergh to take this photograph the Indians disappeared, some into the houses and some into the bush.
launch to greet us, surrounded by the entire population in dug-out canoes; and then rose to fly south- ward over a vast, flat stretch of alternating savanna and woodland toward the northern tributaries of the Pasion River.
These streams traverse a terri- ble and (to fly over) a most terri- fying country, a confused welter of gorges and limestone pinnacles smothered in a jungle so dense, so intertwined, so utterly hopeless to penetrate, save through the foot- by-foot hacking of trails, that I think no one of us failed to give a sigh of relief when we soared over an outlying spur of the Cocks-
ward over the coastal swamps, turned inland, and in an hour were beating across the jungle west of Lake Bacalar, where, thanks to our practice of the day before, we were able to pick up three sets of mounds, one of which was evidently the centre of a very extensive city. Here we saw three or four high pyramids, upon two of which could be glimpsed the white walls of temples.
Colonel Lindbergh then climb- ed to two thousand feet and head- ed north across the great, flat plain of Yucatan. There were no hills or valleys to break the even spread of the tree-tops. Soon we began to see the sharp eminences of groups of ruins.
I quote from my air notes: "Steep pyramid on N. hori- zon (12.05) ; small lakes to N. (12.07) ; another small lake about 6 mi. E. (12.16). Now coming over pyramid (it was visible 20 miles away) . Drop to about 100 feet — group contains one large pyra- mid with three smaller ones 100 yards E. of it on a plaza
Lower photograph by Dr. S. G. Morley Upper — Air view of the ancient Maya pyramid at Uaxactun, Guatemala.
Lower — Ground view. This remarkable pyramid was built about 2,000 years ago. Hidden by tropical foliage, it was not discovered until 1916 when Dr. S. G. Morley, of the staff of Carnegie Institution, came upon it. For the past four years Oliver G. Ricketson, of the Carnegie staff, has been directing its excavation and study. This pyramid was built of uncut stone and faced with dazzling white stucco. Four stairways lead to the top. Flanking these stairways are colossal masks of fine, lime stucco. The upper pairs are fashioned in the likeness of grotesue human heads, the lower pairs resemble serpent's heads. Near the beginning of the Christian era, the inhabitants, erected a second pyramid above it thus com- pletely covering it and preserving it in perfect condition to our day. Removal of the later structure revealed what is perhaps the most beautiful example of ancient American archi- tecture that has come down to us.
dian clearing. (12.43) Turn due W. toward high pyramid sighted by Mrs. Lindbergh and now heading for it across unin- habited country. (12.49) An- other pyramid to N. of first one.
Enormous Mounds at Coba
'"THESE groups, most of which are probably new, were plot- ted by compass-course and flying time. In some cases, they were still more definitely located by means of bearings taken on distant landmarks.
For an hour or more we tacked back and forth, noting sites in all directions, flying close over the
The Improvement Era for February, 1930
251
largest ones and gradually work- ing north until we saw poking up on the horizon the enor- mous mounds of Coba, an ancient Maya site which has been visited by fewer than a dozen white men. By one-thirty we were over it, anxious to land on one of the two little lakes about which the great forest-buried buildings are grouped.
",H[7E dipped and skimmed the water, but Colonel Lind- bergh shook bis head at the high trees on the farther shore and we rose again to circle the tall "cas- tillo" and cross in a split second a swampy lowland that three years before had cost Eric Thomp- son and me a full hour of bitter sweating struggle.
Until now everyone had been too busy to think of lunch, but when we swung high again and headed for the coast Mrs. Lind- bergh produced chocolate and crackers. By the time we lit in the ocean to go ashore at the sea- side ruin of Tuluum we had been
well fed. That night we stayed at Cozumel island, where Pan- American Airways has a base, re- visited Coba the next morning to recheck our observations, and by ten o'clock were headed for Cuba, Miami and home.
Objectives of Survey Accom- plished
POURING the flights everyone *~* was constantly busy: Colo- nel Lindbergh with map on knees kept track of courses, wind-drift, and estimated distances to and be- tween objects sighted. Mrs. Lind- bergh, whose eyes are very keen, watched the bush like a hawk, and took the photographs. Van Du- sen, through Ehmer, our crack radio operator, sent bulletins of progress to the Pan-American ba- ses at Miami and Belize. Ricket- son and I filled notebooks as fast as we could write, jotting down observations on topography, na- ture of forest, occurrence of lakes, streams, swamps, and descriptions of the appearance of the ruins pass- ed over.
Washington and Lincoln
By BRYANT S. HINCKLEY President of Liberty Stake
HTO all Americans the month of ■^ February is eventful because it records the birthdays of the first and the sixteenth president of the United States.
A span of seventy-seven years stretches between these birthdays, and a short distance in miles be- tween their birthplaces. In appear- ance and personality there was a sharp contrast between these men; in their contribution to their coun- try and the world, there is a strik- ing parallel. Each gave the full measure of his genius and his great- ness to the same cause. Each won. The first is affectionately called the "Father of his Country," and the second the "Savior of his Coun- try," and in neither case is it a mere figure of speech.
Washington was born Febru- ary 22, 1732, died Dec. 19, 1799, aged 67 years, leaving a large estate, no children and bequeathing to Americans a character and service beyond price.
The records show that he was in the military service of Virginia sev-
en years, of the United States a little more than eight years, and was the President of the United States for eight years, serving most of the time without compensation. In all, forty-five years of his life was devoted to public service. There was a sympathy and tender- ness, in the following event, which was not often manifest in the life of the general :
Cornwallis surrendered on the nineteenth of October, 1781, and the Treaty of Peace was concluded in Paris in 1783. The British forces left American soil and Washington resigned. The part- ing of the men with the com- mander was deeply touching. Ad- dressing them, Washington said, "With heart full of love, and gra- titude, I now take leave of you. I most devoutly wish that your lat- ter days may be as prosperous and happy as your former ones have been glorious and honorable. I cannot come to each of you to take my leave, but I shall be obliged if each one of you will come and take
me by the hand." Not a word was spoken. In turn each officer came forward, shook hands and embraced the commander. All then silently followed him to the ferry, where he embarked for Washing- ton.Thus closed his military career Theodore Parker said of him, "No ruler of the Anglo-Saxon stock has obtained so great a repu- tation for the higher qualities' of human virtue. For more than one thousand years no statesman or soldier has left a name so much to be coveted. None ever became so dear to the thoughtful of man- kind. In the long line of generals, kings, and. emperors, from the first monarch to the last president or pope, none ranks so high for the prime excellence of heroic virtue."
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
A BRAHAM LINCOLN is one ^ of the most universally be- loved men in all history, and he deserves to be. The story of his overcoming the difficulties of his early life and his rise to such a great eminence from beginnings so hard and lowly, has put hope into the hearts of thousands of struggling boys. His resolute stand for the right has helped countless souls to be true to their obligations and ideals. His kindliness of heart and unfailing charity toward friend and foe makejnalice and intoler- ance seem little and ignoble. His firm reliance upon the over-ruling power of God, and the ultimate triumph of righteousness sustained the nation during the awful con- flict, and finally won the war.
One of the picturesque and im- pressive things in our national history is the calling of the sad- faced, great-hearted, man of the plains to the White House when the tempest of a mighty civil war was about to devastate the land. During the dark hours of that ter- rible storm, his gaunt figure shone through the smoke and din of bat- tle like the rainbow of promise, and in those days of peril his sublime faith in God is scarcely surpassed by the faith of the He- brew prophets. Before the awful war had begun he said, "I know there is a God and that he hates in- justice and slavery. * * * If he has a place and a work for me, and I think he has, I am ready."
Clear in his thinking, strong for the right, he stands as the tenderest memory of the age.
A Spiritual Philosophy of Life
By MILTON BENNION Dean of the School of Education, University of Utah
IV
Philosophic Grounds for Belief in Personal Immortality
THE most eminent philos- Does Mind Survive after Dissolution ophers, both ancient and of the Body? modern, have either as- jf so, Does the Individual Mind Re- sumed to prove the immortality tain Its Personal Identity; or Is It Ab- of mind, spirit, or soul; or they sorbed in a Universal Mind? have offered rational grounds for Assuming Personal Immortality to faith in immortality. Among Be a Fact, What of Its Nature and Sig~ these philosophers Plato is espe- nificance? daily notable. He held that the
moral order of the universe, which must be grounded in God. The reality of the highest good and the demands of the moral conscious-
immortality of the soul includes its pre-existence as well as its survival after death. A variety of argu- ments or proofs were offered in support of this, one among them
tibility of matter and the con- servation of energy, both con- cepts that have, until very re- cently, been regarded in physical science as thoroughly estab- lished. Reasoning by analogy, it is contended that mind also may be equally imperishable, that death is merely a transfor- mation in which no essential ele- ment of mind can be lost. One form of presentation of this argu- ment is to be found in John Fiske's
Life Everlasting.2 It should be
ness together, Kant held, called for noted that whil an argument from
being based upon trie unity and personal immortality as a necessary anaiogv mav su ' r a fruitful hv
substantiality of the soul as mdi- condition of realizing these de- anaJ°g7 ma^ su^t a fruitful riy-
cated by its control or rule of the ^ands reallzmg ^ese de pothesis,or may be a ground of
body. This argument played a Af\, ,. ftU u'f faith it is not regarded m logic as
Another line of thought for proving anything. A stronger ar- which Kant laid the foundations, gument as a basis of faith in inl- and one that has been given much mortality may be developed di- weight by some eminent recent rectly from the fact and the need philosophers, relates to the unreal- ity of time. Kant held that time is a form of intuition, not an in-
significant part in later philosoph- ical systems.
A RISTOTLE also held that the -*■*■ "active reason" is imperish- able, as it is also without begin-
ning. The great emphasis which dependently existing reality such
Aristotle placed upon reason, which is quite generally character- istic of Greek thought, doubtless led him to single out this aspect of mind for survival after death. This is somewhat in contrast with the Christian idea of the impor- tance of personal relations with its corresponding emphasis upon love and service, rather than upon the purely intellectual life.
The arguments for immortality brought forward by the earlier philosophers came to be accepted as proofs coordinate with the phil- osophical proofs of the existence of God and of the fact of human free- dom; hence it has often been said that philosophy gave us God, free- dom, and immortality.
IT' ANT rejected all of these proofs ■*^* as such and offered in their stead grounds for rational faith. His argument was based upon the demands of ethics, which required the reality of the highest good, a
as mind itself was conceived to be.
of the conservation of spiritual resources conjoined with faith in God or in the ultimate good of the world. That there is some meas- ure of conservation of spiritual val-
Both Royce and Munsterberg held ues is an indisputable fact; that
that time is relative to action only, that it is, therefore, no part of ul- timate reality and cannot, there- fore, be a factor in terminating the existence of mind.
'"TO the common sense way of
there is generally recognized need of such conservation is also a fact. What has need to do with the facts of real existence? In human life, at least, very much. The greatest values in civilization, both phys- ical and spiritual, have been real- thinking this argument may ized in response to human needs.
seem to be wholly untenable. It should be noted, however, that a variation of the same thought ap- pears in the field of theology quite independently of philosophy. In
This is a dynamic world, a world of perpetual creative activity, with mind as the most ultimate and most fundamental creative force. The reasons for this assertion have
the Apocalypse, for instance, is a already been given and will not be
phrase, "that there should be time no more;"1 while in some modern theological discourse reference is made to time and eternity, with the implication that time belongs to this mundane experience only.
An argument for immortality that is more closely allied with modern science is based upon the indestruc-
repeated here. It is a fact of com- mon experience that as life devel- ops new needs arise, and that new values arise in response to these needs. Spiritual values are, in large measure, preserved as social values in the race by means of ed- ucation, in the broadest sense of
iRev. 10:6.
2Page 68, Boston.
Houghton Mifflin 8 Co.,
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253
that term. The greatest of all spiritual values, however, is that of personal character itself. Does this perish with death, or do we have reasonable grounds for belief that it is conserved by means of personal immortality?
A COMMON sense objection to ■*■ *• this belief is grounded in the fact that we have no idea how sur- vival of the mind without the liv- ing body can be possible. In reply but not as proof it may be said that such existence is not inconceivable nor is its possibility more wonder- ful than is the fact of conception and growth of the individual in this life. Were this not a matter of experience, its possibility would be equally open to question. We cannot, therefore, regard this as a valid objection to belief in immor- tality.
The scientific arguments against belief in personal immortality are commonly based upon the seeming dependence of consciousness upon the functioning of the brain. In response to this objection some re- cent philosophers, among them William James, have suggested that the function of the brain is trans- missive, not productive; that death, therefore, means that the brain ceases to transmit mental action rather than that mind ceases to exist. This argument carries the implication that mind does not come into existence with the advent of the brain or other associated bodily organs, but that, in some form, it pre-exists as well as that it survives the death of the body. If mind belongs to eternity, and is a primary cause in the processes of creation, it may well be assumed that the brain itself is a creation of mind as its instrument in this physical world and that the sur- vival of the creative power is not dependent upon survival of its own product.
PHILOSOPHERS, however, dif- ■*■ fer as to whether mind survives in personal form, the form here ex- perienced, or whether it is absorbed in an absolute or infinite mind in which all separate selves are lost. A somewhat indefinite stand on this question, yet strong for the immortality of mind, is indicated in the following passages from Bergson. Referring to conscious- ness he says:
"On flows the current, running through human generations, subdividing itself into
individuals. This subdivision was vague- ly indicated in it, but could not have been made clear without matter. Thus souls are continually being created, which, nevertheless, in a certain sense pre-existed. * * * although it must undergo its vicis- situdes. * * * The destiny of conscious- ness is not bound up * * * with the destiny of cerebral matter. * * *
"As the smallest grain of dust is bound up with our entire solar system, * * * so all organized beings, from the humblest to the highest, from the first origins of life to the time in which we are, and in all places as in all times, do but evidence a single impulse, the inverse of the move- ment of matter, and in itself indivisible. All the living hold together, and all yield to the same tremendous push. The ani- mal takes its stand on the plant, man be- strides animality, and the whole of hu- manity, in space and in time, is one im- mense army galloping beside and before and behind each of us in an overwhelming charge, able to beat down every resistance and clear the most formidable obstacles, perhaps even death."3
Royce is more definitely com- mitted to the thought that the in- dividual is absorbed in the Abso- lute Spirit. Howison regards this as resulting inevitably in loss of personal identity and, therefore, in loss of personal immortality.
TN opposition to Royce's view as * to the nature of the immortal life Howison holds that the most- ultimate reality is not one abso- lute mind but a society of minds, no one out of all relations to the rest, as the term society implies, but each having, nevertheless, a de- gree of independence, of self-activ- ity, and of personal identity, mani- fested in self-knowledge and self- control. Howison holds further that this personal identity, which is part of our everyday experience,
3Creative Evolution, pp. 269-71, Hen- ry Holt S Co., New York.
T
■X HERE is, I know not how, in the minds of men, a certain presage, as it were, of a future existence; and thts takes the deepest root and is most discoverable, in the greatest geniuses and most exalted souls. — Cicero.
Our birth is but a sleep and a for- getting,
The soul that rises in us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.
— Wordsworth, "Ode on Intima- tions of Immortality,"
is a fundamental aspect of reality, one that cannot, therefore, be lost in eternity. This is the meaning of personal immortality in contrast with that theory which identifies immortality with the life of the one infinite and absolute spirit. Howison's point of view is in op- position to the theory that identi- fies immortality wholly with life here and now in that any life is imperishable as an historic fact and is on this account immortal. Howison's theory is also in op- position to the view that such im- mortality as there may be is in the life of the race only, not in the in- dividual.
What May Personal Immor- tality Do For Us?
Howison answers:
"It provides for ourselves, for each of them (us) individually, a place in the world not merely of consequences and mediate effects, but of primary and un- mediated causes. Hence it gives us assur- ance that death no more than any other event in experience is our end and close, but that we survive it, ourselves the springs that organize experience. It shows us pos- sessed, intrinsically, of the very roots and1 sources of perception, not merely of its: experienced fact, and so presents us as; possessed of power to rise beyond the- grave — yes, in and through the very act of death — into new worlds of perception.
"Accordingly, it matches the Christian improvement upon the older conception of the future existence — the ascent to the doctrine of 'resurrection' * * * the sup- plementing of immortality by the exalta- tion of the 'body,' or sense perceptive life. As ourselves the causal sources of the perceived world and its cosmic order, we are not destined to any colorless life of bare ideas, to 'some spectral woof of im- palpable abstractions or unearthly ballet of bloodless categories,' but are to go per- ceptively onward in perpetuum, exercising forever our inherent power of framing ex- perience, of begetting worlds of sense-col- ored variety and definiteness, in their long career surely of higher and higher sub- tlety, refinement, beauty, and goodness."4
Speaking further of the nature of the immortal life, J. A. Leigh- ton says:
"A self may inhabit, after death, a finer, ethereal body. I may add, merely as a personal statement, that I am unable to form any image or clear con- ception of the nature and conditions .oi existence of a purely disembodied spirit..
* * T
"The persistence and continued func- tioning of the spirit core of selfhood is a matter of rationally justified faith. The degree and character of continued personal, identity must remain, from the stand- point of philosophy, a matter of con- jecture."5
4The Limits of Evolution and Other Essays, pp. 302-3. The MacMillan Co., New York.
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The Improvement Era for February, 1930
What, If Anything, Has the
Life Here and Now to Do
With Eternal Life?
Dr. Leighton answers:
"This is eternal life here and now — to know and live for the higher values of the spirit."6
TN other words, as has been said, -*■ this life is a moment in eternity; it is therefore an opportunity to enter upon that type of life which is worthy of eternal perpetuation.
A great thought, coming to us from the Master of all teachers, al- though from the theological angle, seems to have like import:
"And this is life eternal, that they might know thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent."7
"D ROM these points of view eter- •*- nal life may be regarded, not merely as a life of endless duration, which may be, in some instances, a very miserable life, but rather as an enduring type of life of a very high spiritual quality; a type of life that should, normally, be in progress here and now in the per- sons of each of us. While such a life offers opportunity for unlimit- ed progress in intelligence and knowledge, with equal or even greater significance it offers oppor- tunities for creation of additional values, for growth in love, and ap- preciation, for increase in the joys of existence and extension of these
joys to an ever increasing commu- nity of immortal souls.
TN conclusion, mind may with ■*■ good reason be conceived as the vital and final cause of all that is; the physical organism, as the crea- tion of the life or mind of which it is the natural and temporal manifestation. In man, then, the brain may be regarded as the organ of mind, probably because it is best suited to the nature of the world of which man is now a part. Thus conceived it is reasonable to sup- pose that under other conditions this same mind may have or may create other means of manifesting and expressing itself, means suit- able to these other conditions and to its new social connections. These means, not being adapted to the world of our present expe- rience, would naturally be a bar- rier against communications be- tween the "world of the departed spirits" and the world of our present experience. It is this bar- rier that psychic research is seek- ing to overcome by scientific means. Believers in divine revelation, how- ever, hold that under certain condi- tions of religious faith this barrier is, in some degree, surmounted.
5Man and the Cosmos, p. 463. Appleton & Co., New York. 6lbid. p. 464. 'St. John 17:3.
D.
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■L N time there is no present, |
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In eternity no future, |
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In eternity no past. |
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— Tennyson, "The How Why, St. 1. |
and |
A Bit of Forgotten History
By HUGH J. CANNON
TJROM a personal letter written •*■ by Pres. Joseph Wilford Booth
not long before his death, t which occurred in Aleppo, Syria, Dec. 5, 1928, the following excerpts are taken :
"Very few of the readers of the Era will remember the visit of Pres. Geo. A. Smith, Lorenzo Snow, Eliza R. Snow, et al., to Palestine in 1873, when the sec- ond dedicatory prayer was offered on the Mount of Olives, in prepar- ation for the long predicted 'home- coming' of the scattered Children of Israel.
"Recently we met a fine old gentleman here in Haifa who told us an interesting bit of -news of fifty-five years ago. Dr. Nasif Kiwar, a graduate of the American
University of Beirut, is now sixty- six years old, and though blind is one of the best informed men in Haifa. We had a delightful visit with him. He was extremely kind and affable, and related to us, with much emotion, thefollowing expe- rience : When he was a small boy, about eleven years of age, a 'Mor- mon' apostle, with others, called at his father's houseiand paid them a visit which he has never forgot- ten. Dr. Kiwar said the visitors left a Book of Mormon with the family, and one of the men, whose name was George A. Smith, also gave his photo to the boy's moth- er, because said he, 'Mr. Smith looked so much like my mother's brother who had died without ever having had a picture taken. On
this account she very much appre- ciated that photo of Geo. A. Smith.'
"After all these years, and to' our great surprise, the doctor pro- duced the old photograph taken in Egypt; I think in Cairo. On the back of the picture was written the following: 'George A. Smith. First Counselor to President B. Young of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.'
"It is hardly necessary to say that the worthy doctor prizes this picture very highly. The fact that it has been so carefully preserved during all these years attests that fact."
Reference to the Church Chro- nology indicates that President Geo. A. Smith's party left Salt Lake City, Sept. 15, 1872, and, after visiting many important cities en route, arrived in Jerusalem Feb- ruary 25, 1873. On Sunday, March 2, they held solemn wor- ship on the historic Mount of Olives.
Subsequently they visited many of the places made memorable be- cause of their association with the earthly ministry of our Lord.
President Booth continues: "We have just had a delightful visit from Miss Maud May Babcock and the four young ladies who are traveling with her. They are the Misses Phyllis Stohl, Lethe Cole- man, Lois Fairbanks, and Oleta Jex."
Dr. Kiwar was present at the re- cital given by Miss Maud May Babcock at Haifa, Nov. 1, and warmly complimented the reader after her presentation of "Mary Magdalene." He is father-in-law to secretary Taylor of the office of district commissioner, Coleville, at Haifa.
"While our Utah guests, Miss Babcock and party, were here, Mr. Taylor did all in his power to make their visit a pleasant one.
"Sister Mary R. Booth and the writer had the pleasure of touring Palestine in a big '8 passsenger' car. We listened again with much pleasure to our wonderful reader, at the Y. M. C. A. in Jerusalem, as she gave to a spell -bound audi- ence 'Caesar and Cleopatra' by Bernard Shaw.
"On Sunday, Nov. 11, we met in an upper room at the Majestic hotel in Jerusalem, and there for the first time in Palestine we held a sacrament meeting, at which all present, bore a faithful testimony."
Out of
Chapter Three
THE sentence imposed upon Silas Hoggan was indeter- minate— one to twenty-five years. There could be no doubt he had had a hand in the kidnapping. Some confederate had taken the child back to the Hoggan cabin in Crow's Nest. Judge Harrison was positive, even the sheriff suspicious. So the third degree wore on, the judge's nerves taut, his patience gone. Echo Harrison fluctuated be- tween hysterical consciousness and drug-induced coma. An efficient, motherly nurse came and took complete charge of the young Portia. From the hour of Pamela's disappearance, the remaining child was never left alone.
"If you don't return the child, unharmed, I'll give you the limit," thundered the judge. "You'll stay in prison twenty-five years. You'll die there."
'Pears like I nary had 'nough vittles fer weuns," mused old Silas. "The old woman ain't got no time fer babies. She'll be poor fed when I ain't thar. She can't tend no least one. Youns go see."
"If you return the child I'll rescind your sentence," compro- mised the judge. "Perhaps I was too severe." Vision of a tortured haby, of a neglected child made him shudder. The baby must be found !
O UT even the promise of complete freedom brought no confession from old Silas. He re- iterated one thought, "Weuns ain't got that thar least one." And the old lady echoed after him, "Weuns ain't never seed that thar baby!"
A posse of citizens combed the country side, swooped down on "Crow's Nest unexpectedly, search- ed the home of every dweller. But -each home already possessed abundant children. Least ones of varying ages crawled about on the bare floors, lay on blankets or sat in the dooryards and gaped at the visitors. At the home of Steve Turner the stern visaged old moth- er received her inquisitors with dig- nified reserve.
Yes, they had a baby, born the
night 'fore the trial. She had cared for the mother, who had almost died. They wanted no babies that (.he Lord didn't send proper. The farm was too poor, the soil too thin, it didn't give livin' 'nough for the children they already had. Cassie Turner lay in the corner bed, nursing her infant. Wrapped in the half of a drab, worn blanket, wearing a gown shaped from a sack, the baby whimpered mourn- fully and blended with its environ- ment. The posse, headed by the none too zealous sheriff, glanced at the infant on the arm of the semi-bewildered Cassie, and hastily withdrew. How could mere men distinguish tiny babies? How could they question a mother's evi- dence, or a grim old midwife? Be- sides, witnesses were plentiful that the baby had been expected.
jT EVE Turner, strangely docile, volunteered to lead them about the mountains. He furnished copious family his- tories and gave no hint of a secret grudge against Judge Harrison. And while he led the searchers hither and yon, the old mother buried the beautiful clothes and the locket marked "Pamela" under the cellar floor. When she was positive no eye could watch, she made certain the soil lay flat un- der a large walnut tree, and that
B u mine
%\VY WILLIAMS STONE \^)
dried bark and leaves concealed all evidence of freshly turned earth. And the unsuspecting Cassie held her new baby tenderly; rejoiced in her fine features and promise of beauty, and marveled at the skill of Granny Turner who had saved them both. No need to burden Steve with the price of them fancy doctors. Granny had done so well.
The defeated searchers returned to their routine of life. Rumors of a strange peddler, of suspicious looking tourists, of passing gypsies spread about the town. Judge Harrison grew morose and stern, refused to discuss his loss, ordered Echo to refrain from mentioning the lost baby. But though he might instruct his sister Eunice, it was without avail. She was ever watching, hoping, confident that some day the child would return.
Old Silas Hoggan lost his identity under a number; lost his beloved jug, his faithful dog. But in their stead came the comforting assurance of plentiful food, a bed better than any he had ever known, and weekly rations of tobacco. He puttered about the penitentiary, be- coming a small authority on the taming of wild birds. Being nat- urally indolent, he cheerfully gave the State the responsibility of his support. If he had any regrets about his incarceration, it was to mildly wonder "Ef the old woman war a makin' it."
JYLlSS Eunice Harrison never had an opportunity to tell her brother of her fears for his per- sonal safety. James always abrupt- ly changed the subject whenever she attempted it. So, hoping to placate the anger of Steve Turner, she sent his family frequent gifts. Once a month the mailman left a package in their crossroads box. Warmer clothes for winter, gifts for the children. Soft slippers for the old grandmother, a sweater for the growing boy, a fancy dish for Cassie, fur-lined gloves for Steve. The box never failed to arrive, although Steve Turner never gave any comment, either of approval
256
The Improvement Era for February, 1930
or resentment. Cassie, however, cism, and her sister Millie evaded
voiced loud praise for the "Town or dallied over allotted tasks, little
Lady' and reared the children to Curly saw beauty all about her.
love her memory. The sting of She saw cause for rapture in the
poverty was allayed for the moun- sunset, saw beauty in the flash of a
tain mother by the generous gifts blackbird's wing and fantastic fig-
and the drab monotony of her nar- ures in the glowing embers of the
row life was relieved by anticipa- outdoor fire. The autumnal leaves
tion. Nearly every box contained were a source of joy, and the rare
a book, and these were laid away glimpse of a cardinal repaid days
with awe and reverence. of drudgery.
In striking contrast to the other two children's heavy, black hair, the least one had bright soft curls.
"Weuns oughter call her curly," ventured Cassie, running her hard-
1 OILSOME home work through the long hot sum- mer. Nut gathering after the first frost, then school! Blessed sesame ened hand through the golden to a starved soul! Through the mass. "I never seed sich hair afore. persistent efforts of Miss Eunice Taint like ourn. Harrison a real teacher had come
"My pappy's ma had hair that to Crow's Nest. The school house away," prompted the old granny had been repaired and attendance quickly. "Nary a black hair. I was made compulsory. Thus on aims ter dye that thar least one's winter mornings, Bud broke a head. 'Taint purty that away, trail through the heavy snow and Buddy's hev ter get walnuts, and Millie, complaining against the I aims ter mix a good bit o' dye hard "larnins" plodded behind
him. Little Curly, always hug- ging one of the precious books which she had discovered in the 1 HUS the infant Pa- corner cupboard, brought up the mela grew to childhood, her golden rear. She was unmindful that her curls losing their luster through feet were often wet. The meagre
and fix it up black come summer.'
contents of her lunch box gave her no concern. Wasn't the Little Lame Prince flying on his magic carpet, or Little Lord Fauntleroy about to find his mother? She learned quickly, displaying a keen brain, and leaving her mountain companions far behind.
She performed her evening tasks
frequent "dippings." She learned the mountain life, ate its coarse foods, faced its hardships. Bare- footed, she plodded along the corn rows, dropping the seed until her child shoulders ached. Under the direction of the gaunt, vigilant granny, she spread the precious wool on the shed roof to dry. She
helped to husk corn and shelled w{th lightning rapidity, then set- the rough kernels until her little tied before the bright embers of hands bled. She early learned to the kitchen grate with a precious distinguish between the doty chips book, whose printed message had and the burnable wood. She toted been so long closed against the water from the well up the path family. As she read aloud, with to the house. She soon learned to her eager vibrant voice and bril- feed the fire under the huge pots Hant eyes, one by one the family when "bilin' down" sorghum. She joined the circle. The bony con- became skilled in drying squash for tour of the old grandmother seem- winter, in gathering the vines full of dried beans, which Bud hung from the ceiling rafters. Her bare legs became freckled and rough, her feet tough and grimy. She took her turn at the out-door wash tubs, and the delicately moulded body, thus taxed, created an eager appetite. Thus the heavy corn bread, the fat pork, the flour thickened hominy and the sunburned pota- toes were like ambrosia to the ever hungry child. But Utt!e Cudy saw beauty aU ahom hef * * * *
while Bud hoed in the and the rare gumpse 0f a cardinat repaid days of garden with dogged stoi- drudgery.
ed softened by the firelight. At the most thrilling chapters she dropped her knitting to listen bet- ter. Steve Turner often put up his gun and drew nearer. Bud forgot his whittling. Cassie stood on the edge of the circle, glorifying in the "larnin" of her last one. Only Millie remained aloof. No story ever held her flighty attention. Having attained her growth early, she boasted of physical prowess and exacted service from the deli- cate Curly from sheer dominance of bodily strength.
Millie disliked the
school. "I hate that thar school," she grumbled. "Them figgers is too hard. Seven times eight is fifty-four."
"No, Millie," corrected Curly with infinite patience. "Seven times eight is fifty-six. I showed youns that yesterday."
"Then six times nine is the same too. Fifty-six."
"No, Millie! Six times nine is fifty-four. Remember the nines are easy the way Teacher showed you. One less than ten each time. Thirty-six, forty-five, fifty-four."
"Hound an' dawg is the same," persisted Millie stubbornly. "But that thar reader book makes 'em look mighty different. An' why does they have ter say house an' cabin? Ain't they the same?"
"I aims ter quit school," she complained another day. "I aims ter larn spinnin'. I aims ter marry. Abe Walters is a talkin' ter me now. He's a goin' ter quit too. He ain't afeared. I'm most fifteen now, an' Ma war married ter Pa fore she war sixteen!" "O Millie, youns wouldn't quit the teacher! The law makes youns go."
"I ain't afeared," boasted Millie,
with a toss of her black, thick hair.
"I aims ter set up with Abe.
Youns needn't ter
tell Pa. I ain't a
_^/ comin' ter school
-^»- no more."
"O Millie, you
wouldn't!" Curly's
quick brain and constant practice
in reading was fast adjusting her
speech to that of Teacher.
"Youns better keep ter moun- tain talk," cautioned Millie. "Pa will take youns outer that thar school. Youns air gettin' too much larnin'."
1 ER morrow," con- tinued Millie, "I'm agoin'. I'm
The Improvement Era for February, 1930
257
startin' ter school, same as you an' Bud. I aint' agoin'. I aims ter go nuttin' with Abe. Weuns fetch some more walnuts, so Granny kin dip youns' head agin."
"I don't want it dipped!" pro- tested Curly. "I want it gold!" Ef you ain't ter school, Bud'll tell Pa."
Millie, towering above her smaller sister, raised a threatening hand.
"Bud he'd best ter hold his tongue. Ef youn's tell, I'll wal- lop yer!" Then seeing no sign of weakening in the smaller girl, she cast about for better means of en- forcing her threat. "Ef youn's tell Pa, I'll burn them thar books! An'," she continued, triumphant that her last threat had struck home, "I aims ter have that thar yellar dress what the Town Lady sent an' the red shawl too. Youns kin tell Granny youns give 'em ter me. Youns kin hev the book and both the tooth brushes. A snuff pick is fancy 'nough fur me!"
Curly grabbed the bucket and hurried down the path.
place. Then she gave chase to the elusive bird.
Ai
T
HE next morning Granny Turner inspected the crown of Curly's head critically. A line of bright hair made sharp con- trast with the black ends. "I aims ter dip that agin," she commented.
"O Granny, leave it be," pro- tested the meek Cassie. "Et's that purty!"
"Youns ma's ma hed hair that away," the old mouth set in grim lines, "An' she died ycung. Folks need thick, black hak ter live long. That thar gold riair makes risins too."
After Curly's hair had been dipped until the gold line had com- pletely disappeared, Granny set Curly to feed the fire under the huge pot of sorghum.
"Youns aim ter keep et abilin'," she admonished. "When et biles right smart, ets sweeter, et is. Don't feed them thar doty chips. Watch et smart."
Curly intentions were good. She really wanted to please old Gran- ny. But a cardinal, a beautiful fellow, colored like the shawl Mil- lie had appropriated, flew past. She had to find out where he nested. Quickly she cast about for means of preserving the fire for a few min- utes. Doty chips would kill it. She saw two fair sized, blackish rocks protruding from the ground. With a great effort she pried them loose and placed them on the fire to hold a stick of hickory wood in
lN hour later she re- turned, breathless and fearful over the fate of the pot of sorghum. Had the kettle boiled over, spilling the precious sweet? Had it ceased to boil? Granny would be that angry! Certain of punishment she ran around the corner of the house and came upon a startling scene. Granny was down on her knees on one side of the fire. Steve Turner was similarly stooped at the other side. Cassie was stand- ing nearby, eyes bulging, mouth agape. Bud bad hurried in from the garden, hoe in hand. Even Millie seemed interested. The stick of hickory wood was entirely burned, but the kettle continued to boil — an even, clear bubble. The two rocks were afire — burnina, emitting a bright, warm glow!
"Whar youns get that thar black rock?" demanded Steve.
"Over yonder." Curly pointed a shaky finger at her find.
'Them thar rocks is a burnin' like good wood," added Granny. "Better'n wood; better'n hickory."
"O Pa, et's coal! Teacher told us. She showed us in a book, how folks digs it outer the ground!" Bud dropped his hoe and ran to the spot Curly had indicated. 'There's more Pa — lots more!"
'This hyar farm is mighty poor fur crops. Et's got coal. I heerd tell of that thar stuff. Weuns has got rich!" Granny got stiffly to her feet.
"No more hickory ter fetch!" Bud threw his dilapidated cap in- to the air.
"No more doty chips," beamed Cassie, her broken, decayed teeth becoming super prominent. "That war lucky youns chased that thar purty bird, Curly."
OTEVE Turner rose slowly to his full height and leaned upon his gun. "This hyar farm is wuth money," he mused. "I mind how that thar jedge wanted et. I seed coal a burnin' down ter that thar Court House. This hyar farm's his'n. Taint our'n." He glanced toward his mother and the same defiant, un- conquerable motive marked both their faces. " 'Fore that thar jedge gets this hyar farm, he's agoin' ter pay plenty," he threat- ened. "Hyar, Millie. Quit alookin' in that thar lookin' glass. Youns and Curly fetch this coal ter the stove!" Shouldering his gun he marched off; erect, defiant, revenge- ful.
That night the circle gathered close about the glowing hearth, with Curly and the new book as the center.
'This hyar ramrod's a right smart cleaner." It was the first praise Steve Turner had ever made of any of Miss Eunice's gifts.
"That fire's some purty," mut- tered the old grandmother. "Weuns alivin' right side them black rocks always, and awishin' they was gone!"
"Youns kin tote et in when youns wants et," Bud was elated over his relief as a wood gatherer. "I aims ter quit cuttin' hickory now."
"Whar's Millie?" Steve spoke up, quickly suspicious over her ab- sence.
"She's poorly," Cassie's defense of her absent daughter was over eager. "She ain't lookin' pert nowadays. She's got risins on her neck, she has."
"That thar Abe Walters needn't ter come hereabouts," muttered Steve ominously. "Curly, youns kin read some more. That Prince sure had his troubles."
Ti
HE story progressed until Steve Turner raised an authoritative hand. He strode to the water bucket and rattled the dipper against the empty pail sug- gestively. Bud paid no heed, Cas- sie continued to pound her dough, the old grandmother took up her (Continued on page 300)
Briefer Ag,ain Fights the Indians
By CARTER E. GRANT
Note: This, the sixth of a series of frontier narratives, is written by Carter E. Grant. The five articles published by the "Era" are, "In the Death Grip of a Grizzly;" "On the Trail Ahead of the Mormons;" "When Jed met the Comanches;" "Jim Bridger Encounters the Red Man;" and "The first White Man to View the Great Salt Lake."
Jim Bridger
THE "Arm of the Pacific" as discovered in our last story by James Bridger was soon found to be an inland salt sea, and, by the trappers and writers of pre- pioneer days, was called 'The Grand Salt Lake," being thus des- ignated in 1826 in General Wil- liam Ashley's legal papers. Three of Ashley's men as you have read, reached this inland sea within a few months of each other. A word on this matter: Bridger discovered the lake and tasted its waters in the late fall of 1824. When Weber river froze, Provot came out of Weber canyon and saw the shining waters to the westward, but as far as we know he knew nothing about the waters being "salty" un- til so informed the next spring by James Bridger; Jedediah S. Smith coming north through the Raft River country from beyond the Snake river, also fell upon the inland sea in the early spring of 1825.
jOME writers claim that Bridger and Provot turned southward over the sand ridges be- yond the Weber river from Pro- vot's winter quarters of 1824-25, west of Ogden, and that these men even skirted the Salt Lake to the present site of Salt Lake City, and possibly to the Utah Lake. Any- way, by the middle of June, 1825, they were on the Green river at Henry's Fork, having already finished their spring trapping on the Weber and Ogden rivers. As no white man before this time had trapped the Weber or Ogden, it is
more than likely that these men, knowing of the rich strike close at hand and seeing the desert stretches of the southern sand-ridge un- marked by any streams as far as the eye could see, immediately busied themselves with the beaver catch. Well they knew that other groups of trappers would soon ar- rive, ready to divide the spoils. Therefore, it is thought that they immediately began trapping up the rivers, proceeding into Summit county, past the Kamas prairie, where they met General Ashley, Sublette, Jedediah S. Smith, Jack- son and other great leaders, and then followed with the crowd to the rendezvous on the Green river, 1825, the first trapper's "re-union" to be held within the confines of the Rocky Mountains.
We are informed that "this was a felicitous meeting, and Ashley heard with great interest, from each of the leaders, a recital of their travels and adventures, and espe- cially of the extent and condition of the fur trade as they had ob- served it." To one living one hundred years away from those exciting times, it hardly seems pos- sible that the waters found by Bridger, Provot and Smith, should be shown upon Ashley's map as a great navigable river, the myth- ical "Buenaventura," flowing west- ward into the bay of San Francisco. However, Ashley himself declares that the river followed by Bridger, Provot, Smith, meaning the We- ber; emptied into a large lake through which one might easilv sail to the mighty Pacific. In July, 1825, he writes: "The necessity of my unremitted attention to my business prevented me from grati- fying a great desire to descend the river [Weber] to the ocean, which I ultimately declined with the
greatest reluctance." Only by reading such inaccurate reports can one realize the dearth of knowledge existing at that time about the vast country between the Continental Divide and the far-off Pacific. What a revelation this seven hun- dred miles of trackless country, comprising desert wastes and snow- capped mountains, would have been to General Ashley could he have boarded a modern "flyer" and swooped across to the Pacific! What a transformation of maps would have followed, for in all this vast triangular space between the Snake and the Colorado no river rising in the Rockies reached the sea.
I
JAMES Beckwourth and Washington Irving have each painted glowing pictures of this first Rocky Mountain rendezvous on the Green river, of which we have already written. As General Ashley built no block-houses, or forts, he chose accessible feed grounds in various centers for trad- ing places, and to these "Ren- dezvous" from the most remote streams and lakes, flocked the mountaineers. Others came from the East over a long hot trail, for the great train of supplies from St. Louis invariably arrived in mid- summer. This season also gra- ciously favored the trapper, for pelts were not taken during the "mothering" days of the beaver. Thus the men gathered to the sup- ply camps, bearing their wealth bound in dried packs of peltries. At this first rendezvous in the history of western America, Beckwourth, who was present, informs us that about eight hundred people gath- ered, one-half of whom were wom- en and children, spouses and off- spring of the trappers. He states
The Improvement Era for February, 1930
259
that whiskey "flowed like water" and that following the rollicking nights of careless sport and gambling many of the "free trap- pers" ended their glory in a "bor- rowing state," having to lease themselves out for a year to com- pany managers in order to even up their accounts.
Wi
HEN General Ash- ley withdrew, in 1825, his long train of pack animals carried more wealth than any other like outfit in the history of the mountains, writers placing the figures from one to two hundred thousand dollars worth of furs. The general, find- ing his own horses altogether inad- equate, was compelled to borrow a battalion from the Hudson Bay Company trappers who had come in from the Columbia river, and also a number from the Salt Lake men in order that the stacks of furs piled in great heaps in Ash- ley's out-door trading post might be loaded and started for the States. Jim Bridger and Jedediah Smith with some thirty or forty other men were chosen to accompany the outfits, Smith going all the way to St. Louis, but Bridger only as far as the navigable waters of the Big Horn. The incidents on this dan- gerous journey have already been told in the articles on Jedediah S. Smith. While at St. Louis, Ash- ley agreed to sell his holdings to Smith, Sublette and Jackson, but the general was to furnish supplies once a year, sending a large train to the appointed rendezvous. Ac- cordingly these first trail-breakers of the "Oregon Trail" turned westward by the Platte in the early spring of 1826, (twenty-one years ahead of the Pioneers) , going into
► *»m
1$H%.-:-. , .■3m.
■■'■■
.
Early Inhabitants of the Plains
the mountains accompanied by an abundance of men and some three hundred pack animals, all headed for the meeting place below Ogden on the Weber.
A]
LFTER Bridger and his men saw General Ashley's wealth of furs deposited in bull boats on the rough waters of the Big Horn, they retraced their steps to the Green river, turning thence northward over the mountains to the head waters of the Snake and the Jackson Hole country. Bridger seems to have hidden himself from view this particular fall, some writers claiming that during this time he went into the Yellowstone National Park country, thereby becoming the first white man to see these wonderful expressions of na- ture. Soon after this Jim began telling strange stories about "hot springs" and of places where the ground trembled as he walked, and where in one small crater he heard a terrible gurgling roar and then
there occurred an awful explosion, resembling thunder, immediately a huge volume of water shot high into the air, falling in torrents around him, almost washing him along with it. To be sure, at these strange stories, the mountain men laughed, nudging one another, not knowing then how truthfully Bridger spoke.
By the late fall of 1825, Bridger was again back at Willow Valley, (Cache Valley) near the place from which he cut himself loose a little more than a year before in a bull boat for the Great Salt Lake. Just at this time Beckwourth with seventy trappers sent by Ashley, arrived on the scene. Beckwourth states in his journal that the general offered him $1000 for making the long trip, guiding the new men to their desti- nation and announcing to Sublette that Ashley was willing to sell to Smith, Sublette and Jackson and agreeing to accompany a great pack train to the Salt Lake rendezvous at the forks of the Weber and Og- den in the early summer of 1826. Therefore, before the winter snow set in, the various trappers cached their furs in Cache Valley and moved winter quarters to the We- ber. This was Provot's camping grounds of the year previous, and altogether a very acceptable terri- tory for wintering animals. It was here that the Bannocks stole eighty horses and carried them to the Portneuf country, near Pocatello. The story of the fight is told in our third article of this series.
/\LTER, writing on "James Bridger," says, "The Salt
260
The Improvement Era for February, 1930
Lake rendezvous that winter, at the present site of Ogden City, was one of the greatest gatherings of the kind known to mountaineers. Hundreds of trappers from all parts of the west came to avail themselves of the agreeable com- pany and the genial climate. A great many of the older men had squaw wives, and families of chil- dren, the trapping body proper thus totaling around seven hun- dred. [These figures are substantiated by other writers.] But toward winter a tribe of Snake Indians invited them- selves to the rendezvous, bringing all their fam- ilies, live stock and other property. Beckwourth says they number ed 2500, making a total population of about 3200."
It is claimed that be- cause the Snake Indians had ability to conceal themselves like serpents that they came rightly by their lowly name; still others say this name was given them because of unclean manner of life, living upon roots, digging in the ground, etc. In any case, it seems "they were poor providers and inveterate beg- gars, usually impoverished and not always as clean as other In- dians." With it all, nevertheless, their young women proved them- selves so exceptionally attractive to the lonesome mountain men that every now and then a young dark- eyed maiden was led in Indian marriage to the white man's lodge. In later years "Jim" himself took one of these "daughters of the La- manites," to his Fort on the Green river, making the third Indian wife he "fell heir to." It is said that the Snake Indian visitors proved very religious, carrying on many -rites in their large, "Medicine ■Lodge" or "religious tabernacle," a place set apart somewhat from the other lodges. Here during the long winter days, "both Indians and whites whiled away much of the time, having their future read by the medicine man or high priest."
weeks these primitive navigators rowed slowly around the lake near the shore in quest of beaver-bear- ing streams, and also for the outlet of the lake. As fresh water inlets were comparatively scarce, espe- cially along the barren westerly shore, the trapper explorers suffered intensely at times for drinking wa- ter; they also experienced a short- age of game for food." Having circled the lake, they left their boats
Old Fort Bridger
A;
_k.S soon as the south winds of February, 1826, began melting the snow, four men were sent down the Weber in bull boats and began exploring the Salt Lake. Dale says, "For more than three
near the mouth of the Bear river and made their way over the east- ern hills to Cache Valley where they met Bridger and Fitzpatrick. They gave a very discouraging re- port of the lake for game and beaver. Neither had they found the famous "Buenaventura" river which was shown on all early maps as heading in the Rockies and emptying into the Pacific. As far as is known, no other moun- taineers ventured on the lake until John C. Fremont explored it in a rubber canoe almost twenty years later. He in turn was followed by the "Mormons."
While Bridger was camped in Cache Valley, a fearless brigade leader, "Logan," began a trapping detour of some of the streams. While near the present site of Lo- gan City, he with his men were surprised by the Indians and com- pletely annihilated. A searching party, turning aside into every thicket and ravine failed to locate any of the unfortunate men's bodies. Thus we see how com- pletely the savages could carry on their foul deeds.
OHORTLY after Lo- gan's death, some of the trappers having gone north to the mouth of
Portneuf, found a hornet's nest of Blackfeet there. Immediately a sharp battle took place. We are informed that swift retribution overtook the Indians and that the white men withdrew with five long-haired scalps, while the sixth coveted prize before it could be "lifted" jumped into the river on a wounded savage and was carried away by the rapid current.
When the spring trapping drew to a close, Bridger and his men raised their vari- ous caches in Willow Valley and made their way to the Salt Lake ren- dezvous of 1826 on the Weber. They had just arrived, when an Indian runner, acting as a scout for Robert Campbell and his trappers, came hurry- ing into camp completely exhausted, saying, "White men need pow- der! They soon die! Blackfeet, big crowd, fight hard." He informed his anxious hearers that the scene of battle was a day's travel on a horse, about forty miles or more to the southward, where the lake meets the mountain, possibly south of the present site of Farmington,
I
.T was enough! Bridg- er, Provot, Beckwourth and sev- eral others mounted on swift horses were soon speeding over the sand knolls and sagebrush mounds of the sand-ridge, realizing that mo- ments saved might mean life to their friends. It seems that in their anxiety to. give aid they thought little of their own peril and the hazardous trap that awaited them. At length, seeing their friends en- camped in the willows, forward they urged their tired horses. Shortly after the re-union the In- dians again made an attack, ex- pecting to clean up the whole bat- talion, but they were repulsed by the unerring marksmanship of the trappers, who, as Beckwourth rec- ords, brought down an Indian with almost every pop of the rifle. As the fight lasted unreasonably long and the little band saw their real danger, Bridger and sixteen of his companions decided to rout the foe by a sudden bold rush toward the Indian's stronghold, thereby causing the usual savage stampede. (Continued on page 302)
^Dont Lie to an Indian
G/4 Campfire Story
^By PROF. J. H. PAUL
AN early settler of the Tooele region was Tom Hale. Long before the white in- habitants amounted to much in the way of numbers, his ranch and cabin were widely known. Both Indians and whites acknowledged his prowess, and he was especially famed among his red neighbors. His record as a hunter and a wres- tler was heralded afar by the na- tive tribes. Early respected and feared by the savages for unerring marksmanship with his long rifle, he had become known also as a wrestler whom few opponents were ever lucky enough to down in a rough-and-tumble match. Many an Indian was especially trained to wrestle with him in friendly rivalry; and when one of them managed to gain a fall over
1 ROFESSOR J. H. Paul, for- merly president of the B. Y. Col- lege, then of the Agricultural Col- lege of Utah, later of the L. D. S. college in Salt Lake City, then for 22 years professor of natural science at the University of Utah, prior to these engagements, published a book, "Readings and Recitations," while first a teacher at the University. For thirty years he has been a contribu- tor to papers and magazines, having dealt chiefly with political science, philosophy, and education. He ad- mits a passion for literature, but writes chiefly to establish certain ideals in character building, social welfare, and politics. To foster ap- preciation of the beautiful in nature and the habit of learning truth at first hand, he often writes for schools and scouts on the plant, bird, and insect life of the West. The conservation of natural re- sources, the prevention of floods, and similar present-day problems, so absorb his time that he claims he cannot even attempt literary pro- duction. He is the author of five books and a score of pamphlets on Western nature topics, several Uni- versity bulletins, and many tariff and taxation papers. This story il- lustrates his method of interesting boy scouts and others in the value of accurate knowledge of man and nature.
the champion, the fact was carried from tribe to tribe as an event of vast impor- tance.
Among the red men, however, there was no tri- umphant rejoicing when one of their race won a vic- tory over Hale— only friend- ' ly good feeling with genial laughter and good-natured congratulations. For the In- dians liked Hale, and had given him a name — "Strong Arm" — because of his ter- rific grip in the wrestling contests. They liked him, too, because he had always dealt fairly with them, never taking advantage over even the least of their race. In his numerous trades and deals with either new or old acquaintances he always played fair; so that they bartered freely with him for the various articles they needed.
a
.ALE, moreover, had a saying, which was also widely made known — a sort of motto that was verified anew by each transaction the red men had with him — "Never lie to an Indian." In the simple life he lived, this rule held good for all people of either race; and neither friend nor foe had reason to complain that at any time he had sought to de- ceive them. The result, especially among the Indians, was genuine respect and admiration for Hale — a real friendship that made him feel secure in the presence of ma- rauding bands of redskins, who would spare nothing of other men's property nor even their lives. The incident that follows, based on the original story by Elizabeth Cannon Porter, has received cor- roboration, with slight variations, when related to the writer by vari- ous descendants of the original Hale family — a family now wide-
ly distributed through many of the Rocky Mountain States.
LyNE summer day, as Tom Hale stood musing at the door of his cabin, his eye was at- tracted by a cloud of dust arising from the road far out on the des- ert that lay westward of his home. The cloud came nearer; it was: not a whirlwind; and, the day being calm, not a breath was stir- ring. Hale paused, for the sight was unusual; and as the little white billows of the desert rolled! forward, he made out two human forms running swiftly toward him; and soon from out of the white mist sped a powerful Indian followed by a young Indian moth- er carrying her babe in the papoose basket tied to her head and shoul- ders.
As the two rushed panting up to Hale, the red man exclaimed, "Hide us quickly, Strong Arm; I am Arrowpine, the Ute chief; the Shoshones are after us. They will kill me and carry into slavery my young wife."
Hale had met Arrowpine and liked the man; they had hunted together and were friends. He thrust the pair into his cabin and pulled back a rag carpet from a hatchway in the floor; the Indians dropped into the cellar out of sight.
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Hale replaced the door and the carpet just when a shout from his young son Sol announced an- other and greater cloud of dust approaching out on the desert road.
OTANDING uncon- cernedly outside of the cabin, Hale watched the clouds of dust roll near; soon out of them came gal- loping a band of Shoshones mounted on Indian cayuses. They rowPine explained
and dashed toward the hill, thinking that Hale had intended to give them the hint to go in that di- rection. As soon as they were well up the hill, Hale removed the carpet and door from the hiding place of the Indian couple, who eagerly climbed out.
"We are here on a visit to Northern Utes," Ar-
'and
were fully armed, their faces streaked with red paint, their bows in hand and arrows ready, their faces eager and determined. Riding up to Hale and saluting the white man, whom he knew, the leader asked, "Have you seen two Indians — a chief and his squaw — come this way?"
For a moment Hale was puz- zled, and stroked his chin; he had never lied to an Indian and hated to do so even in this emergency
were out by ourselves pick- ing chokecherries when the Shoshones discovered us. They hate the Southern Utes and would like to get me for torture, because I have often defied or beaten them in battle. My young wife would meet a hor- ible fate if we should fall into their hands."
"Could you find your way back to the friendly tribe," Hale asked, "if one of us should
Typical landscape of Southwestern deserts. In the foreground the branching Yucca (Yucca arbores- cens) or Joshua tree, the most wild-looking of desert growths. The leaves are keen-pointed, bayo- net-like, and 6 to 10 inches long.
the Indians and off toward northern hills went Sol
the
on a
As he turned and lifted his eyes to lead you by a secret trail to the smooth trot, closely followed by
a hill on his left, a little cloud of dust arose there. With a shout as they saw the dust, the Indians wheeled their horses to the right
Northern road?"
'Yes," answered Arrowpine; "We know the way from there, and could elude the Shoshones." "Who will go as their guide?" inquired Hale, looking around on his neighbors, who had come in upon hearing that In- dians in war paint were about. None of them, however, was willing to undertake so dangerous an errand. Hale's question remained unanswered till his young son Sol, then about nine years of age, spoke out, saying, "I'll go,
Arrowpine and his young wife carrying the Indian baby on her back in the basket woven of su- mach branches. The entire com- pany, watching them, breathed with relief as the little party fi- nally disappeared among the ce- dars, where even the field glass could not locate them.
The anxious hours dragged slowly; but at nightfall, a faint shout was heard from the cedars on the distant hillside. The call came nearer, accompanied by the steady beating of feet — the Indian dog-trot; and out of the twilight into the arms of his waiting moth-
Father; I know every step er emerged the lad, exhausted, but
of the way, and can back in a few hours."
be
otherwise not one whit worse for his perilous adventure. For Sol had learned how to cover distance without exhausting himself. He could keep his lips closed for a long mother protested that he time while he ran, scarcely inter- was too young to risk his rupting the easy coyote glide, and
I
NSTANTLY Sol's
'Indian mother carrying her babe in a papoose basket tied to her head and shoulders."
life on such a journey, with the chance of falling into the hands of the rag- ing Shoshones; but after some hesitation Hale said, "Mother, let him go; he will be as safe as anyone; and it will be hours before the Shoshones get back, even if they should return this way."
Food for the journey
traveling with no other refresh- ment than was afforded by a few grains of parched corn. These he held in his mouth till they slowly dissolved, sufficiently moistening his throat as, hour by hour, he sped on and on. There was rejoicing at the Hale cabin on his safe return; and the Sho- shones had not even yet made their reappearance, nor were they heard
was quickly prepared for of again till the next day, when
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263
Arrowpine and his wife were far beyond their power.
OEVEN years had passed from the time of this in- cident. Young Hale, now sixteen, had become skilled in frontier life and out-door experiences, which had included several visits to In- dian tribes. Arrowpine was again in the North, engaged in training a select body of his younger braves. A blunder by inexperienced trav- elers going to California had re- sulted in the death of one of Ar- rowpine's young men; and not ev- en the influence of their wise chief had been able to hold them back from taking revenge on the whites. Indian-like, they sought venge- ance, not on the fools who had slain one of their comrades, but on the first white people they might meet; and so they came sweeping through northwestern Utah, stealing, plundering, ravag- ing, burning.
When Arrowpine had found that he could not restrain his men, he had placed himself at their head, with the desire to curb and lessen their depredations. Word of their onslaught sent the people for miles around to the Hale ranch for safe- ty. On came the Utes, sweeping up all the horses, cattle, and sheep they could come across. Hastily the livestock were driven to the Hale ranch, where a large enclosure with water from a spring afforded easy facilities for guarding them.
With the stock thus folded, all seemed well, and the people could await with confidence the approach of the marauding Utes. Then Tom Hale suddenly remembered some choice animals in a distant pasture over the mountain — stock that had been overlooked and forgotten while the others were being driven in. It would not do to leave them
out, so Hale called for a volunteer to go and bring them. No one spoke; but several looked in the direction of a dashing Mexican visiting among them and present that day at Hale's. He had told of his adventures, and was no doubt a fellow of a good deal of nerve and daring; but he was silent un- der this challenge, though many thought he should have been the first to volunteer.
In the suspense that followed, young Hale spoke up, declaring himself willing to go, his mother protesting earnestly, just as she had done seven years before in a similar affair. The Mexican, who well knew the dangers of the er- rand, sneered at the young man's temerity, remarking that he would give Sol his silver spurs if he should come back alive — a taunt that made young Hale the more determined to undertake the job. It was decided, over his mother's remonstrances, to let him try it; and away he went afoot upon the precarious task of bringing in the distant livestock before the Indians could reach them.
Wi
HEN he had crossed the mountain and reached the pasture, he found it already raided. The Indians had been there and had driven off the animals, though
which way they had gone was un- certain. Yet he judged, from cer- tain signs he had been trained to recognize, that Indians were even then getting between him and the ranch house, so he took to the cedars to make a long circuit back. To keep under cover, however, he had to make so wide a detour that darkness came on and he was still many miles from home; he was hungry, and it was growing cold.
As he threaded his way, stoop- ing, hiding, crawling at times, he came upon a calf, which he rec- ognized as one of the Hale ani- mals. He knew that it would presently seek its mother, so, urg- ing it forward a little, he followed its zigzag meanderings in the dark- ness, till, in answer to its bleat, came the welcome "Moo-oo" of its mother, telling them which way to go; and as the calf knelt on one side, by the cow for its milk, Sol knelt on the other, milking into his mouth till hunger and thirst were satisfied with the warm, wel- come fluid. Then the cow lay down with the calf beside her. Some claim that Sol wedged him- self between them to keep warm. At all events, on a bed of leaves, he fell sound asleep.
Just before daylight the boy awoke, impressed with the feeling that he was in grave danger. As he stood up and tried to pierce the darkness, he fancied that shad-
From Painting by Le Conte Stewart.
The Creek Bed, A Typical Oasis Scene in Western Utah
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owy forms of tents loomed not very far away. When his eyes be- came accustomed to the darkness, he made out a few tents, besides many human forms stretched out upon the earth. It was the Ute camp, and he had been sleeping within 300 yards of it. There it was, slowly becoming visible right before his eyes.
H:
E knew the ways of Indians and was well aware of the fact that he could not get away. That they had not found him al- ready was due merely to the cir- cumstance that animals were all about, so that the guards had paid little attention to this one, which they must have heard and seen. He decided to do as trained scouts everywhere have done under such circumstances: he would go straight into the encampment.
As he walked toward the big tent, Indians lying on the ground sprang up and seized him. They threw him to the earth, then bound his hands and feet. Hearing the commotion, a chief came out of the tent. It was Arrowpine, and the youth recognized him. The chief spoke sternly.
"What are you doing here? and why did you come into my camp?" he asked in anger. "Are you a spy?
"I came here," answered the youth, "to find my father's ani- mals, which your men have driven away."
"Who is your father?" demand- ed the chief; "and who are you?"
"My father is Tom Hale; I am Sol Hale and no spy, but a friend of the red man," the boy respond- ed.
"Are you Strong Arm's son?" asked the chief, peering doubtfully through the dim light at the pros- trate form beside him. "Don't lie to me."
"I do not lie; neither did my father ever deceive you or your people," declared the boy in strong tones.
"Stand him up," the chief com- manded; and they stood him erect before Arrowpine, who eyed him keenly. But the boy had changed so much in seven years that the Indian leader failed to recognize him. "Can you prove to me," the chief asked, "that you are Strong Arm's son?"
"Seven years ago, when you
were hidden in my father's house to get away from the Shoshones, I led you and your young wife with her baby boy through the cedars and along the secret trail to the Northern road; and I had to run all the way back to the ranch, for the Shoshones might have cap- tured me."
In answer to other questions by the chief, Sol gave significant de- tails of the journey — details that only those who made it could ac- curately relate: how they had stopped only once at a tiny spring to drink and rest a few minutes before running on again; what the chief had said as they parted that day; the token that the chief had given him as a mark of his grati- tude— a grizzly's tooth, which the boy had strung upon his leather- woven watch chain, and which he now asked the chief to look at.
1 HE chief had closely watched the youth during this testimony, his features changing and his face lighting up as he re- membered the race through the cedars; and now, in the clearer light of the dawn, he recognized in the youth the boy who had stood by him in his hour of need.
"Unbind him," the chief com- manded his men; and they untied the rawhide thongs they had wound about him. Sol rubbed his wrists and ankles, then faced the chief.
"Would you know your fath- er's animals if you saw them?" asked Arrowpine, this time in a friendly and considerate voice.
"I could pick them out any- where," young Hale answered.
"Then follow me," said the chief, striding off toward a large enclosure where the animals se- cured during the raid were being guarded by watchers.
The chief spoke to his men, who straightway proceeded to drive the animals one by one past a sort of gate where stood the chief and young Hale. When one of his father's stock would pass, Hale would say, "That's ours," and the guards would turn it out of the enclosure. One after an- other he picked out his father's animals till he felt that he had nearly all of them.
Just then a handsome mare came trotting up to the gate, her eyes shining, nostrils blown, head
erect, and tail held high, as she pranced and plunged, showing that the blood of her Arabian ancestry had lost none of its fire by her transfer from the deserts of Asia to those of America. She did not belong to the Hales; she had been imported for breeding purposes by a hear friend and neighbor.
As young Hale saw her come forward, he began to think of the loss the whole community would suffer if he did not claim her and take Jier homfc to his father's friend; and a battle as fierce as those waged on fields of carnage began to rage in his brain. The horse was not his father's, to be sure; but these Indian thieves had no right to her, so why should he not deceive them and recover her to the people? — especially, he ar- gued to himself, since the redskins would probably make little good use of her, and by abuse and ne- glect would soon destroy her ex- traordinary value. On the other hand there arose in his mind the words of his father, "Never lie to an Indian;" and after a brief hes- itation, the Indians eyeing him closely, he shook his head, saying. "She is not ours."
Ti
HE chief immediate- ly called for a guard to escort young Hale and his stock back to the vicinity of the Hale ranch. A murmur of disapproval, amount- ing almost to mutiny, rose in words and gestures of increasing excitement from the assembled braves. For they had understood little of the English conversation between Arrowpine and young Hale; and they now perceived that they were to be cheated of both their intended human victim and of many of the animals they had rounded up in the raid.
In words of fervor and elo- quence, Arrowpine now addressed his men, relating how the life of their chief and of his wife and young son had been saved by this son of their famous friend, the well known Strong Arm.
The braves, after talking it over, accepted the chief's decision. A select guard forthwith escorted young Hale and the livestock back to the vicinity of the ranch. As Sol drove in the stock, he found a large company in a high state of nervous tension awaiting news of
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265
him. By this time they believed him to be killed or captured.
There had been little sleep at the ranch through the night. Sol's mother had paced the floor of her room; his father with scouting parties had scoured the country in all directions in search of him, but had not been numerous enough to invade the Indian camp.
That morning the Indians moved off with their plunder. The young Mexican forgot his promise of the silver spurs; but an old hunter gave Sol a fine saddle, while the people voiced their admiration in many ways. Last and not least, a maiden, lovely as any wild flower of the desert looked into his eyes — into his very soul.
With two of the
small children, the girl, resting on a pile of hay in a corner of the large barn, had passed an almost sleep- less night. The one quilt was suf- ficent for warmth, but sleep for her was out of the question, not from fear, but from anxiety for the youth Sol. Towards dawn she fell into a dreamy slumber, in which it seemed that she and the bronzed youth were once more climbing the steep ravine to the little spring with its sparkling water.
And when the hiding squirrel's nest They sought far up the hills, They bathed their reeking fore- heads cool Among the mountain rills.
"By manly mind," writes Scott, "not even in sleep is will resigned," meaning that strong natures con- trol the course of their dreams; and just when the sleep of the young dreamer deepened, a canyon wren, alighting on the tip of the high- pointing pole of the immense hay-derrick, poured down a shower of tinkling, silvery melo- dies, which, lute-like, came rip- pling to her consciousness. The desert air, laden with ozone and fragrant with the smell of earth and aromatic shrubs, breathed fresh across landscapes vividly painted in the glowing dawn. From cot- tonwoods along the creek bed sighed a mourning dove's faint fluting. All at once the notes of a violin mingled with the bird mel- odies. Fogelberg, the Norwegian master of music, had intercepted Edna, the marvelous soprano, as
she returned with a pitcher of water from the spring, and here in the open they were rehearsing again for the approaching Confer- ence. Blending gloriously, this ex- quisite harmony of singing violin
The Desert Nightingale, the Sage Thrasher, was throwing his softly bril- liant notes into the bird chorus.
and soprano voice sobbed forth in ecstasy Schubert's serenade. "And the nightingale is singing — bid it, Love, be still." For the desert nightingale was singing, — the sage thrasher, cousin to the mocking- bird, had thrown his softly bril- liant notes into the bird chorus. The sweet, the olden strains, with the delirious bird whistling, had calmed the sleeper; her limbs were relaxed, her mind at peace; a mur- mur of happiness stole through her rest. Others joining in the re- hearsal, the music changed; and she seemed to be practicing with the village choir, which arose and sang, "Bright o'er the hills shines the day-star of gladness," followed by the triumphant paean, "Daugh- ter of Zion, awake from thy sad- ness."
As the first sunbeam gleamed through an opening in the boards, she awoke and rose quickly. A faint whinny from a hill top saluted her ears; it was the voice of Tiny Tim, her gray pet colt, which she had given up as lost when the Indians had gathered it in during the raid of the day be- fore. Hurrying outside, she saw a band of stock coming down the slope, the gray colt leading. With
a call she summoned the animal, which came trotting, then play- fully rubbed its nose against her arm. The girl lifted her eyes; Sol was approaching. She ran towards him, barely able to keep from throwing her arms about his neck, as he looked laughing into her eyes already brimming with tears.
"Your mother has missed you and longed for you!" she ex- claimed. "And did you?" he asked eagerly.
"Oh, Sol!" was all she could answer. For a brief moment he caught her in his arms. Soon she was running back past the others, who by this time, with cheers and exclamations, were swarming out from the ranch. On to his mother she sped with the- good news, while the neighbors were almost carrying the youth to the house. Was ever a home-coming better than this?
Y EARS passed, and Hale, visiting in Southern Utah, met the aged chief Arrowpine. "Do you remember me, Arrowpine?" asked Hale.
"Yes," answered the chief, "you are the son of Strong Arm."
"Can you recollect the morning I claimed my father's stock?"
"Yes," said Arrowpine, "I sometimes think of it."
"Do you recall the fine mare that belonged to my father's friend, the mare that I wanted to claim, but did not?"
"I do," said Arrowpine; "I was watching you."
"Tell me, big chief, what would have happened had I claimed the mare?"
"You should have had her," the chief answered; "but you never could have got home again."
"Why not?" asked Hale.
"You saw," said Arrowpine, "the difficulty I had in restrain- ing my young men. They knew whose animal the mare was, and in spite of all that I could have done, they would have waylaid you and filled your body with their arrows had you attempted to de- ceive them by claiming an animal that they considered their own by right of conquest."
And so it has become a motto handed down among the Hale families to this day — "Don't lie to an Indian," nor to anyone else.
From Ox Cart to Airplane
By GERTRUDE MUSSER
FROM Garden Grove, Iowa, in 1848,
Mary Elizabeth White started across the plains with her family, by ox team and cart.
Garden Grove was only a little village of log huts and dugouts — not at all like a garden — and yet to a group of outcast Latter- day Saints it offered a wel- come protection from the persecutions of their ene- mies and from the cold of the Iowa winter. Here, on the 7th of Nov., 1846, Mary Elizabeth White was born, the third child of Samuel Dennis White and Mary Hannah Burton, both of whom had joined the Church in 1837. The prospects for the little girl were not bright; there was sickness — in each corner of the room which shel- tered her mother was a bed on which some afflicted person lay; there was poverty— the Saints had left their homes in such haste they were poorly fitted for the long journey ahead, and food was hard to obtain; there was misery — the log houses had been crudely built and did not succeed in shutting out the winter. It was a case of the survival of the fittest, and Mary, being one of the fittest, survived and was happy in the prairie home.
"D EFORE the family moved -*-* across the plains another child, William Henry, was born, and Mary was in her fourth year. The journey was one long to be remem- bered by even such a little girl. The huge mountains, threatening in the distance, were terrifying at first, but after they became commonplace it was hard to keep her in the wagon home. Every time they halted, stones had to be placed un- der the wheels to keep the wagon from rolling down hill, and it was the worry of her mother's life that Mary would pinch her fingers un- der the big wheels or that she would get too close to the feet of the oxen, but Father White would
say, "Don't worry, Mother. She'll be all right."
-REACHING Salt Lake Valley -^ they camped there for a short time, but soon after were sent to settle at Lehi. Mary was sent to the school, such as it was, where she learned the mysteries of the printed page. It was a proud time for her when she finally succeeded in mastering the difference between "d" and "b" and could read. After about four years in Lehi they were sent to colonize farther south, at Cedar City. They worked hard, but the desert refused to blossom like a rose, and after several years the majority of the settlers moved to a new location near the old, hoping to have better success, but the Whites went north to Beaver and made this their permanent home.
rT,HE family by this time had in- creased to nine members, and upon Mary devolved a good part of the responsibility in the home. This meant a great deal in those days, for besides the cooking, clean- ing, sewing, washing and churn- ing, there were spinning, carding,
candlemaking and a hun- dred other things to be done. Twice her father was called to pilot com- panies of immigrants to the valley from the point where the railroad ended, and once her brother Or- son went. Returning from these trips they brought with them such luxuries as factory-made cloth and spools of cotton thread, to the delight of the women folks.
HTHERE was always ■*• work to be done, but as they had done while crossing the plains, the pio- neers supplemented their toil with dancing and games, and even more elab- orate amusements. Then Mary had been simply an onlooker, or more prob- ably, had been fast asleep during the revelry, but now she was in the center of the fun. She danced with Brigham Young several times, but more often with the young traveling bishop, Amos Milton Musser, who had recently returned from a round-the-world mission- ary tour, a man full of enthusiasm and vigor and possessed of the quality of making people like him. In 1864 he and Mary were mar- ried. Six children of her hus- band's, in addition to ten of their own, Mary cared for and they loved her as their mother. This re- sponsibility was the more keenly felt since her husband was away so much of the time. After his release in 1876 as Traveling Bishop of the Church, he was appointed Gen- eral Superintendent of the Deseret Telegraph Company, which posi- tion also required his absence from home a good part of the time.
'"THE "underground" days were ■*- very trying for everyone. Mr. Musser was convicted under the Edmunds-Tucker Law and sen- tenced to serve six months in the State Penitentiary. During this time, through Mary's ingenuity, his prison fare was supplemented with smuggled delicacies. After his release he continued as before —
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267
r-~r—
living with his families and going to the office each morning — but they had to be continually on the alert for spying deputies. The mother of Moses could have had no harder time to keep her child from the soldiers of Pharaoh.
Of her children, four sons have filled missions, two have served their country in war, and one is a prominent lawyer. There are thir- ty-seven grandchildren and four- teen great-grandchildren scattered from Hawaii to Baltimore, and from Wyoming to St. George, to bear witness of her wonderful life and the integrity of her soul.
COME folks are hardened and em- bittered by the experiences of life; others, like Grandmother Musser, grow nobler and sweeter. Her eighty-three years have brought into her life hardships, anxiety and sorrow — five of her children have been taken by death the eldest son in his young man- hood, three in their childhood, and one as the mother of a family — but each year has made her richer in experiences, stronger in service and dearer to the hearts of her children. Some folks stop growing at fifty and spend the rest of their lives looking backwards into the past; others, like Grandmother Musser,
enriched by the experiences of the past, are forever learning and growing. She has not, nor will she ever reach the stage when she would be content to sit, her hands folded in her lap, dreaming of that which has gone; nor will she ever be too old to find some way to help others.
"CAMILIAR with the changing conditions of life, from perse- cution to safety, from hardship to ease, from poverty and privation to comfort, she had yet one compar- ison to make. Knowing practic- ally all there was to know of older methods of transportation, she was eager to try the latest facilities, and in August, 1928, she added to her experience of ox cart, rail- road and automobile a trip in a Fairchild cabin monoplane. Having donned her best attire, very differ- ent from the rough clothing of 1850, she calmly climbed into the plane and was taken over the val- ley. From the heights she looked down on the trail which had led their weary feet from persecution and hatred to the new promised land of opportunity.
"It was a wonderful, experi- ence," she said. "I suppose we will all of us be using airplanes habitually before long."
Your Better Self- God's Understudy
By John T. Woodbury, Jr. Dixie College Department of Religious Education
"VOUNG man, do you want to 1 live to be three-score and ten and still be in your prime?
Do you want after all those years to have yet a vigorous mind in a sound body?
Do you want the moral fiber, the iron will, the ethical stability, that make men strong for the right?
Do you want to be the captain of your own fate, the helmsman
of your own world cruise, the har- binger of the better, the greater, the nobler, man to be?
Do you yearn for the power to command yourself at all times without equivocation?
The Lord of the Universe in- tended that you should have all these things and more. He has done His part and the rest is up to you. He has furnished you a good body and important instruc- tions about the care of it. The essence of those instructions, like the essential of the moral law, is honesty in action. It reads: Thou shall not lie to the body, neither by deadening it with opiates nor narcotics to give it false peace, nor by spurring it on to action by stim- ulants when no basic strength is furnished. Neither the pseudo rest of deadened nerves, nor the hectic flush of stimulants is conducive to health. They sap the energies, stun the will, and destroy the con- science.
"Tobacco and strong drink are not good for man;" neither is much meat. Fruits, and grains and green leafy vegetables, in their sea- sons, are good for man.
Common sense should temper all man's activities. Nothing in excess should be the rule — modera- tion in all things.
The Lord promises you health and strength if you use wisdom in your living. A feeling of mighty manhood and moral power will be the result of such a life. These things are within your reach now. Grasp them before you lose through indulgence, the desire to admire, and the ability to acquire the life of perfect self-control.
It's up to you. Be men! ■r -f i XJEALTH is, indeed, so neces- ■*■■*■ sary to all the duties as well as pleasures of life, that the crime of squandering it is equal to the folly; and he that for a short grati- fication brings weakness and dis- eases upon himself, and for the pleasure of a few years passed in the tumults of diversion and clam- ors of merriment condemns the ma- turer and more experienced part of his life to the chamber and the couch, may be justly reproached, not only as a spendthrift of his happiness, but as a robber of the public; as a wretch that has vol- untarily disqualified himself for the business of his station, and re- fused that part which Providence assigns him in the general task of human nature. — Samuel Johnson.
An American Prince
A PRINCE, the diction- ary assures us brief- ly, is one of the highest rank — the son of a reign- ing monarch. From time imme- morial the title has carried with it a touch of glamor, a gleam of en- chantment and witchery. The words "Once upon a time there lived a wonderful Prince" have
By
ELSIE TALMAGE BRANDLEY
moner; Carol of Rumania re- linquished his hope of the throne for the reality of a exalted him and enshrined him in girl's love, and while his compa- their hearts. He has represented the triots love him for his daring, they splendor and majesty of the nobil- have repudiated him for his lack
of integrity to all that they have held dear. He is a Prince, but too human.
ity to whose sway every subject has loyally submitted. The su- premacy of the royal family has typified the glory of the land. The been enough to call the children honor of the empire has gone hand A MERICA, the land which has from every corner of the room, to in hand with the honor of the *V never known the dominion of gather in rapturous anticipation at royal house. Imperishable the a sovereign; never suffered the ig- the feet of the teller of tales, and sovereign; immortal the country, noble persecution of unrighteous listen in absorbed silence to the rest And while the King is in reality rulers; never bent beneath the bur- of the story. A Prince, to child- the head of the dynasty, the Prince, den of false aristrocracy, had re- hood, is a magnificent being, by virtue of his youth and courage, garded royalty with unfavorable clothed in glory and power and has exemplified royalty. All that eyes. America is made up of peo- golden robes, whose chief duty in was regal, all that was glorious and ple from the countries which have life it is to ride about on a splen- glorified, has been regarded as char- not been free. Russia, Germany, did charger and accomplish great acteristic of princeship. The Prince, Italy, Scandinavia, Britain and and good works for the benefit of it was tacitly agreed, could do no many other lands have sent here the humble and downtrodden. wrong; but right or wrong, he those of their people who have been
was a Prince; and history is re- T^O youth, a Prince is still a mag- plete with examples of the right- 1 «;£,-„.,<- u„:„~ „<-;n ~i*+u~a :„ ness of some princes and the
wrongness of others.
'O youth, a Prince is still a mag- nificent being, still clothed in glory and power, and still in pos- session of the splendid charger; but by now he is less concerned with the poor and persecuted, and more definitely given to sports and games, in which he is unerringly the winner. It is his royal pre- rogative; he is every inch a ruler and a peer.
To young manhood and wom- anhood, a Prince is a contempo- rary, more fortunate than other human beings may ever hope to be. His position is one of emi- nence; his every word important. His authority is unquestioned; his power absolute. Illustri- ous is his name and bril- liant are his opportuni- ties. Honor, dignity, re- spect and love are accord- ed him in limitless quan- tity, and every word, every thought, every deed is given a fitting amount of attention. To be a Prince!. What more could life offer? Af- fluence, fame and position; and the wildly enthusiastic plaudits of the world heaped upon him who is without fault in their eyes.
"COR centuries nations have ren- *• dered homage to their Prince of the realm; have loved him.
Time, the master of change and progress, has been busy of late years with the matter of kingdoms and principalities. Kings and Princes (except in story books) are not what they were. Dynasties have fallen, empires have toppled, majesty has disintegrated — the Hohenzollerns despised and scorned; the Romanoffs fleeing for their lives; and others once impe- rial, no longer existent as poten-
ft
WO missionaries had arranged an open-air meeting in 'Germany. The senior, a faithful but timid hoy of twenty, had been in the field ten months; his companion five. A local member was to speak but failed them. The choir drew a crowd. Timid and backward in the language, the older missionary, with ashy face, arose. A few halting words — then the people listened astonished. His voice was like an angel's clarion call- — no hesitation, no foreign ac- cent. A real American Prince.
drawn together under the stars and stripes by a bond of sympathy, ambition and desire for freedom. The ignorant, despised and poor have mingled in friendship and equality with the energetic, whole- some and literate, and all have raised, as with one voice, a cry of thanksgiving and praise for the glorious blessings and privileges which are theirs. A free people are they — free from the deadening influence of caste, free from the op- pression of rank, free from the in- humanity of militarism. Free, in a land where "kind hearts are more than coronets, and simple faith than Norman blood." The land of the free! America !
tates, even in the hearts of their countrymen.
There are cases in some of the less militant countries in which
AND while changes "^ have entered into the lands of Prince and
potentate, humanizing, leveling, dispossessing, changes have also been at work in the land where all are equal — raising, ex- alting and dignifying. In this great American country to which people have fled for safety and peace and recognition, a royal
royalty is still regal and nobility dynasty is being formed. The
still noble, but even in these are very ones who have loathed class
signs of unmistakable change, distinction and decried aristocracy
While prestige and power still re- are creating for themselves a new
main, autocracy has diminished, royalty; and at its head is he who
Mary of England married a com- epitomizes all that is illustrious
The Improvement Era for February , 1930
269
salvation to whole world.
the
T
and patrician. His qualifications are not birth and breeding in an imperial line, but courage, patriot- ism and sportsmanship. His crown is not of gold and precious stones, but laurels of accomplishment rest- ing on his brow. His robes are not of velvet and regal purple, but the invisible cloak of democracy, fair play and honor of which every true American is justly proud. Fre- quently the actual raiment in evi- dence is the athletic suit, or hunt- ing regalia, for the spirit of good fellowship is exemplified in athlete and sportsman. The out-of-doors is his shrine, and unbounded vi- tality his scepter.
T DEALIZATION is one element A in the life of any person, com- munity or nation which insures progress and growth, but the ideals must be selected thoughtfully. Glorification of an inglorious thing is deadly; honoring a dishonorable principle is destructive. When ex- altation gives place to exultation, values become valueless.
We are a nation of hero-wor- shippers, but on the stability and merit of the heroes worshipped will the country gain or lose in power. The mastery of money, fealty given to fame, the peerage of posi- tion and sovereignty of success will never raise a people one whit nearer a higher plane of civilization, but will stultify and stereotype toward stagnation.
A MERICA is too glorious a country to let the easy way of least resistance lure her away from the straight and narrow path in which she early planted her cour- ageous feet. The wars she fought for freedom and for right surely shall not be interpreted to mean freedom from responsibility and the right to forget the debt she owes to those who threw off the shackles of the old world and bravely made their way across an unknown sea into an unknown land, that they and their children, and we, their children's children, might live our own lives and have freedom of conscience. When the founders of America gave us the right to worship as we desired, they surely intended that forever we should preserve the desire to worship. Are American citizens who are such by virtue of the re- ligious courage which gave their forebears strength to accomplish an almost impossible purpose in the face of almost insurmountable bar- riers, displaying the sportsmanship and fairness they claim to cherish, when they knowingly desecrate the ideals to which these heroic Pil- grims dedicated their lives? The America which is in truth the "land of the free and the home of the brave" is made up of those who are free from the peril of scepticism and atheism; those who are brave enough to accept and acknowledge truth and cry it as a message of
HE American Prince who would truly lay claim to descent in the royal line of his patriot ances- tors must be pos- sessed of religion in its widest -nd deepest sense; and here in the west, where the power of faith was strong enough to guide and direct and up- hold the Pioneers in the undertaking which entailed greater hardship and deprivation than we of this generation can
even imagine, is ta be found the finest type of manhood in the whole world. If he is living up to the requirements made of him, to all he knows to be right and true; if he magnifies and improves every opportunity to develop and ex- pand the intelligence which is God's glory; if he is obedient to admonition and susceptible to pre- cept of prophet and leaders, he is in every respect — mentally, mor- ally, socially, physically and spiritually — deserving of the high- est rank his country can bestow, and all who know him and observe his rectitude and honor will ac- claim him a peer.
The American boast of freedom is as sounding brass and tinkling cymbal unless that freedom en- compasses every phase of life. To be allowed one's liberty in a great city around which an insurmount- able wall is erected, is not to be free. National and political free- dom we claim and enjoy; social and educational advantages we ac-
M<
ORE than one hundred years ago a young American boy went alone into the woods, to pray; for in his heart he yearned for a knowl- edge of truth. In answer to his prayer he was given the knowledge which has opened the door of sal- vation to countless thousands, who lift their voices in praise and thanks- giving to their Creator for the faith and fearlessness of that boy-prophet, Joseph Smith.
270
The Improvement Era for February, 1930
cept gratefully; religious freedom is a recognized and cherished bless- ing. These we have, and agencies on every hand are making studies and enacting laws by which further to extend the priv- ileges and advantages of cit- izenship in this great land. The deadening fears of other countries and past centuries have been removed; medical science has minimized the ter- rors of virulent diseases; pub- lic safety legislation insures reasonable protection from outlawry and persecution; the judiciary provides fair settle- ment of differences and just punishment for offenses; the Civil War brought the assur- ance that one man shall not be slave to another. In al- most every social and indus- trial relationship has come freedom.
"CROM the bondage of tra- *■: dition, fear, system and superstition have we been re- leased, and on that condition we base our claim, losing sight of the truth that the only real freedom which is de- serving of the name is per- sonal. To be free in a great city of philanthropic institu- tions, with no shadow of danger to life and liberty, is a slight and inadequate foundation strong enough to support nothing weightier than high-sounding words and impressive phrases — un- less to it can be added the inde- structible claim of individual lib- erty. If one is free of suspicion and hate, of bigotry and self-sat- isfaction, of dishonesty and greed, and of a disastrous allegiance to perverted appetite and destructive habit, then and only then can one truthfully say "I am free." And to be an American Prince, one must be free. An American Prince is greater than a prince of any autoc- racy or court in the world, for in- stead of owing his station to the inexplicable fact of birth, he owes it to irreproachable qualities of character. Only a man unsullied, scrupulously honorable and up- right; a man who knows what is good and true and cleaves unto it. a man who shuns even the appear- ance of evil can hope to attain that high calling.
^TITHIN the organization
known as the Church of
Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is
to be found the fountain of free- dom— the truth that makes men free. An analytical world calls it System, but an understanding
membership know it as Revelation. Within the memory of some still living a new light has burst upon the earth, bearing a new message which has influenced directly the lives of jhundreds of thousands; and it is impossible to estimate the indirect influence it has wielded. Since the day of its inception in 1830, progress along every line has been marked, but in no other field has it achieved the same degree of triumph as in the field of re- ligion. The beautiful, soul-satis- fying Gospel of Christ has been restored to earth, and its luminos- ity has radiated the world around. This Church provides the re- ligion of daily life, and the promise of eternal progression. In it the commandments given of God, and the teachings of Christ during his ministry upon the earth are re- garded with solemn and reverent respect. And in addition there have been given new revelations to pierce the darkness of preceding centuries. The Word of Wisdom, for example, gave to those who would hearken health laws which have since been discovered by
scientists — that tobacco is a poison, alcoholic liquors are injurious to body, mind and soul; meat should be eaten sparingly, especially dur- ing the hot summer months. Other precepts governing mental, moral and spiritual development are equally forceful, and the truths given in this plan are fundamen- tally health-giving, joy-giv- ing and life-giving. This "Mormon way of life," as it has been called, is the key which unlocks the door to the Kingdom. Those who accept the key and enter the door find within its portals gifts and treasures of surpassing value. Among them is the gift of unselfishness, for into the hearts of those who have been touched comes a great and prayerful desire to cry aloud to the world the glory within the reach of all, and call them to come and partake also. And then they realize that the blessing has increased with the sharing. Joy inex- pressible follows their efforts to bring others in to ally themselves with the sons and daughters of the King.
"P ACH year in the various countries of the world are
more than two thousand young American Princes, known as "Mormon" Missionaries. They have gone forth to represent the royal Name, and effect alliances with every nation, kindred, tongue and people. Their mission is not one of diplomacy; their plans are not strategic; their motives are neither mercenary nor political. Knowing full well that purity of thought, cleanliness of body and sincerity of spirit and purpose are the insignia of American prince- ship, they have gone forth into for- eign lands, among unfriendly peo- ple, authorized to carry to them the highest message of liberty. In spite of the sacrifices often required of them and their families, they are determined to carry the word of salvation to a hungering world; to show them the path to peace and promise.
And these thousands are only representative of many thousands more at home, on the farm, at school, in office or factory or mill, engaged in the service of the King. To serve in truth, they must be sure of the strength which attends
(Continued on page 301)
Gray Days
By Grace Ingles Frost
GRAY earth, gray sky and grim gray leafless boughs, Not sorrow to my heart you bring, But mind me of the resting time When I, like nature, far away shall fling
My robe, and slumber.
i
I love you, earth, sky, boughs of leaden
hue! Love you for the thoughts you to me give. You let me not forget the teaching true — That e'en though I must sleep, I still shall
live To come forth in the spring.
Old Roads
By Grace Ingles Frost
J LOVE old roads that lure my feet Along the way of quiet streams With rustic spans where I may pause And weave a golden web of dreams;
I love old roads with pebbles strewn — - Old roads with broidered edge of bloom
Touched by a languid loveliness That graces summer's afternoon;
I love old roads all covered o'er With feathery flakes of white
That sparkle like rare diamond drops, When gleams of blue and silver light Fall from the moon —
And when the sun in benison
With crimson glory floods the west,
I love old roads — 'tis then, methinks, That they are at their very best.
Sequestered roads of paradise are these
Devoid of stress or plod; Here I may heed the wood-dove's note
And let my soul reach up to God.
Yesteryear
By Grace Ingles Frost
YESTERYEAR I sang a song Of sweet, bright things a-growing. O violets and lily bells
And yellow poppies glowing With golden shafts shot by the sun
From skies of azure hue; The whole wide world seemed filled
A
DELIGHTFUL thing it is to read new poems from the pens of those whose names have become more and more familiar with the passing years of the Young Wom- an's Journal and the Improvement Era.
Grace Ingles Frost is one of these, and the reading of her new poems is made more pleasant through the re- membered charm of her earlier ones. From 1906 she has been one of the faithful contributors to the maga- zines, and many have loved her work, for she puts into her lines a fine emotional quality which marks it as real. Some of the fol- lowing are reprinted from earlier volumes; some are recent; all are so lovely that it is impossible to dis- tinguish the old from the new.
Land of Tomorrow
By Grace Ingles Frost
OUT in the untrodden land of to- morrow What is there lurking, I question, for me? Guerdon of joy, or burden of sorrow? What may be waiting, mine eyes may not see.
Out in the far-reaching land of tomorrow
Will there be work for these hands to
perform?
Land of deep mystery, land of tomorrow,
Stretching beyond with the birth of each
morn.
Land of futurity, land of tomorrow, If you hold gladness or if you yield pain, Yet there is One from whom I may borrow Strength that will shield me from sun or from rain.
1 i i
with
song For very love of you.
But that was yesteryear, and now
The blue has turned to gray; Mine eyes see naught to make them glad;
Where e'er I wend my way. In notes that tremble on the breeze,
A monody I hear, For love has come, and love has gone —
It fled with yesteryear.
A Mother Pays
By Grace Ingles Frost
FOR every silky curl that lies Above a child's wide, wond'ring eyes, A mother pays as never can Another in creation's plan.
I For feet that lightly through life trip, A mother pays; but when feet slip Into the dark of sin's dense maze, Ah, that is when a mother's days Are anguish-rent! 'Tis then she pays Her toll in full for mothering man Each hour of life's allotted span.
A mother pays in pain and tears For every child she bears and rears; But know you not, from Cross and
Thorn, The glory of a God was born?
When the Wind Sang, Its Babes to Sleep
By Grace Ingles Frost
rHE wind sang its babes to .sleep last night, With a sweet low croon, with a sweet low croon, Rocking them high in a tree near by, Tucked into beds of apple bloom.
The stars came blinking out from the blue,
And the moon peeped from over the hill. And for each wee head in its trundle bed
There was left on the window sill A bundle held by a sheath of light,
That the tiny moon-beams had spun From their own gleams into wondrous dreams,
For a gift to each little one.
When the wind sang its babes to sleep last night With a sweet low croon, with a sweet low croon, Rocking them high in a tree near by, Tucked into beds of apple bloom.
Mad Waves
By Grace Ingles Frost
PELL-MELL they gallop to the shore Like mighty steeds of Neptune, Madly neighing, roar on roar In tossing-maned abandon.
Before the keen lash of the wind
Band after band is driven, Without a rein to curb or bind
Until their strength is riven.
The voice of each that paws the land By those which follow after
Is hushed, and each bows on the sand To water's rippling laughter.
Potential Shock
By THOMAS R. HENRY
D
ANGEROUS children are
rare.
They seldom carry their primitive day dreams of slaughter and carnage into reality. Yet not infrequently newspapers contain accounts of killings by early ado- lescents.
Children with cravings which threaten to be realized occasionally come into the Gales Special School, after proving unmanageable in other public schools. There they are given special study by Harold D. Fife, principal.
Paul was a sullen, unmanageable boy with an obsession for knives.
He was dangerous and teachers were afraid of him, with good rea- son. It wasn't the child's fault that he never had killed anybody. It was his good luck.
When a teacher tried to disci- pline him he would draw a knife on her. On several occasions he attacked other children with knives. It was a wonder that the schools put up with him as long as they did. Again and again, knives were taken away from him but he always was able to get another. Where he got them nobody knows. Probably he stole most of them.
Knife a Necessity
A KNIFE was a necessity for the ^ lad's existence. It was as vital as morphine to a dope fiend. The probability is that he suffered nerv- ous tortures when deprived of a knife. He would have got it somehow, regardless of what ob- stacles were put in his way.
Fife volunteered to take Paul. School officials warned him that he would be dealing with a crazy kid who was certain to kill somebody sooner or later and that it would be best to put him away some- where, with no further attempts at reform.
The child came from an excel- lent family. There was nothing
Boy Killer Becomes Absorber Expert
(From the Washington Star)
[Note — This is the fourth of a series of articles describing the re- markable experiment in the redemption of boys who have proved unmanageable in ordinary schools, which is being carried on by the\ District Public School system. Harold D. Fife, principal of the Gales Special School, is a Utah product. His early education was obtained in Salt Lake City, after which he attended college in Washington, D. C. He is a sincere "Mormon." Those acquainted with his success have marveled at his ability to handle incorrigible boys. The Lord says that those who keep the Word of Wisdom "shall find wisdom and great treasures of knowledge, even hidden treasures." Is this an answer to those who wonder at young Fife's remarkable achievements!' — The Editors. ]
wrong with his home environment. His brothers and sisters were all perfectly normal.
He had a low I. Q., placing him among the high-grade morons. In school he had been a continual fail- ure in everything. He wouldn't study. He couldn't learn if he did.
Fife had him examined by a first class psychiatrist who found at the base of the knife throwing obses- sion the old inferiority complex. The child suffered from his appar- ent inferiority in his classes. He had to have some way of attracting
attention, of becoming the central figure on the stage.
Knives did it. When he flew at somebody with a long, sharp knife in 'his hands folks noticed him. The smart children became insig- nificant figures compared to Paul on such an occasion.
Sought Impression
U E wanted to impress himself on folks, to make them feel his presence and his importance. A teacher would feel a knife thrust in her body. She would pay at- tention to Paul then — he would be the most important figure in the world to her.
Paul, of course, hadn't reasoned all this out. He simply felt it. So long as he had a knife in his pocket he felt himself the ruler of his little universe. Without a knife he felt sick, helpless and unneces- sary.
It was almost a foregone conclu- sion that the time would come when a murder would be necessary to the boy's peace of mind — a murder into which he would be forced inevitably.
At the Gales School, Paul re- mained the sullen unmanageable, bone-headed kid. The change of environment apparently did no good. He still carried knives. Fife tried to talk him out of it, but it is impossible to argue a person out of obsessions. The form may be changed, but not the substance.
Fife suspected that here again was a case of dual personality, but there was no point of contact. The child seemed to have no interests upon
The Improvement Era for February, 1930
273
which other interests could be grafted. Even knives did not constitute such an interest. They existed, for him, only to stab folks with.
Wanted to Kill Pitcher
T F Paul was playing base ball and -*■ was struck out, for instance, his immediate reaction would be to rush the pitcher who so humiliated him with a knife.
The teacher saw that he had an almost hopeless job on his hands. The only course open was a patient study of minute behavior character- istics, some one of which might prove a key to the boy's better na- ture. It required weeks and weeks before the clue came — weeks during which Paul just moped around the room, pretty much his own boss.
Fife noticed the boy several times puttering with the valve of the steam radiator in the room. At such times he seemed absorbed in the mechanism. He didn't ask questions about it — but just screwed and unscrewed the valve time and time again. Ordinarily a child puttering with the steam radiator in a schoolroom would have been reprimanded.
Possibly the boy had a mechan- ical mind, Fife thought. He de- cided to test him out. The next morning, through his breakfast a little late, he glanced hastily about his garage for some mechanical de- vice for the child. There was nothing appropriate. He picked up an old shock absorber, broken, out- of-date, and long past its days of usefulness.
Upon such trifling incidents as this the course of a whole life may turn.
That day in school Paul was fascinated by the shock absorber. Time after time he took it to pieces and put it together again. He re- sented any efforts to explain to him how the device worked. He had found his vocation.
Turns Inventor
A FEW weeks later he came to ■^ the teacher with the an- nouncement that the old shock ab- sorber was no good, that the fellow who made it didn't know anything about the principle of the thing, but that he had invented a much better one. He had made it at home out of wood. He explained his idea and it seemed workable. It operated with water which, Paul
said, was the great defect. Water ran through the holes too easily. He had an idea that what shock absorbers needed was molasses. Fife gave him some money to buy a quart of molasses.
Shock absorbers began to replace knives as Paul's obsession. He thought and lived shock absorbers. Still he wouldn't learn anything else. Fife decided that it was best to let well enough alone. He saw that the proper environment for the boy was a shock absorber en- vironment, for the time being.
Paul was rather young to go to work, but a garage owner, after re- peated solicitation, agreed to give him a trial without any pay. The boy leaped at the chance. He could get money from his folks, he said, and would be willing to pay the garage man for an opportunity to live among shock absorbers.
That was months ago. Today Paul has the reputation of being one of the best shock absorber me- chanics in Washington. He does nothing else. Some of the most expensive cars in the city are brought to him for his expert opin- ion on shock absorbers.
Works in Garage
"PUT he is far more than a shock absorber mechanic. He has a
shock absorber imagination. He is working on the perfect shock ab- sorber for automobiles. It is very likely, experts who have looked over his work say, that Paul will some day revolutionize the world's ideas on shock absorption. He is a shock absorber genius. He knows everything about them and thinks of nothing else. He seems to have an instinctive ability to look at a rough-riding car and tell what is wrong with its shock absorber system.
But he already is thinking be- yond shock absorbers for automo- biles into the subject of shock absorbers for men. He has an idea in mind, he confided to Fife, which will enable a human being to walk over hard pavements as if he were floating through air. Some day he is going to provide this great boon for humanity.
Is the greatest shock absorber ex- pert in Washington a dullard? Fife asks.
Paul doesn't throw knives any more, but the same old inferiority complex is at the root of his per- sonality.
But he has found a more effec- tive way to make people "feel" his presence and pay attention to him. This is by the working of genius.
American Visitors to England
'T'HE Alliance News of London, says that most of the American visitors to the British metropolis seem to have gotten out of the habit of drinking alcoholic liq- uors. The editor says:
Most of London's most fash- ionable hotels are at present full of wealthy American visitors. Head waiters are very disgruntled because very few of them drink intoxicants. Last week, in the dining-room of a famous West End Hotel, twenty-three tables were occupied by Americans. Only one party was drinking wine, most of the rest iced-water, the re- mainder "soft- drinks." Soda fountains were fully employed in London hotels on Independence Day. The Daily Express of July 3rd contained the following para- graph :
"There is always the possibility on July 4, in London that the sup- ply of soft drinks may run out.
It is a firmly rooted English belief that no American will take a soft drink when there is anything stronger going.
"Actually, many of them are firm teetotallers, and have been heard to say that their chief com- plaint against this country is the difficulty of making people under- stand that when they ask for a "soft" drink they are not employ- ing an American expression for a cocktail of a whiskey and soda.
T'HERE is about one ounce of A alcohol in each of these:
Three oz. of 47% whiskey. Two pints of 4% beer. One pint of 8% wine.
In the last year before prohibi- tion, (1919) 92% of all alcoholic liquor consumed in the U. S. was in the form of beer and wine. — U. S. Statistical abstract.
o
o
0— HOO," the call echoed
long and eerie over the water.
Jessie waited until the sound faded away, then her face lighted up as she waved a slim, brown arm high in the air.
Tom Davis, sitting cross-legged on a pile of seines on the wide dock across the river, looked up, and pulling off his cap waved in return. It was too far to see the faces, but not so far but that a spectator on either side of the waterway would have felt the vivid and sparkling youth that an- imated the two.
It was June and school would soon be over. It had been Jessie's first year as "teacher" in the little fishing village. She was teacher, principal, janitor and custodian of "the little red school house," though she didn't really half look the part. Coppery curls short enough to dangle enticingly, and gentle blue eyes with dark lashes, she inherited from an aristocratic mother, who had died when Jessie was but a little girl.
OINCE Jessie had been able to reach the sink by standing on the inevitable soap box, she had managed to keep house, somehow, for the father and two brothers, who every day shipped barrels of fish to the mythical New York. "New York," the little Jessie would whisper the name to herself. It actually tasted good and often in those early days she went down with the men to haul their catch just so as to go by the "Folly" the stone pillar which marks the boun- dary of three states, and one of these — New York. As their power boat whished by this spot, she would gaze longingly over the broad expanse of enchanted waters. They went to New York. Would she ever go there, too?
At sixteen, the beginning of her chance came. With money left by her mother for that purpose, she was packed and clothed adequately, according to her male family's con-
Road
ception of adequacy, and put aboard the train which would take her to the city, to boarding school.
JrOR the first time in her sixteen years, she met the world. She saw a tooth brush. She saw mothers in silks and fath- ers in cutaways. It was a Quaker school and she learned to say, meekly, "If thee will allow." She found that men in the city didn't tie scraps of clothes-lines around their belts to keep the wind out, and girls, "nice girls," didn't bring their lunches in tin pails. All this learning didn't come easily. The heart-aches were bitter, as sixteen year old heart-aches will always be. But no one ever saw the little girl from the country cry, and with the keen eyes and ears and mind of her sea-faring folks, she grasped the differences and sought to mend and cover them.
She did, to such an extent that the second summer vacation brought to her heart such a delight as she had never dared to dream. Amelia Winters, of Boston, even Beacon Hill, invited her, Jessie Brown, to visit at her home for two weeks. So for two ecstatic weeks she lived as she had hungered to, and at the end of this time, she vowed a solemn vow that come what might, she would eventually make a place for herself in this world. She was not a snob, but her mother had come from such people as these, had standards such as theirs and had been totally cut off from her family at her marriage. And she had left the seed of long- ing for gentility with her daugh- ter.
CBy
ESTELLE
TEARLE
METCALF
spent with Amelia, and during the latter one Amelia's brother, Fernald, gave up an anticipated fishing trip to be there too. It was soon evident to all that Jessica had only to say the word. But she didn't say it, then. She had already accepted the position of teaching the country school and felt obli- gated to keep her agreement.
L
.N the spring vacation she had gone to Boston prepared to give Fernald his answer and she was sure it was to be "Yes." When she saw them all again she felt be- wildered, and again put him off until school closed in June. She went from the Winter's estate and Fernald back to her father's home and Tom Davis.
Tom had been a third brother to her ever since she could remember. Together they had studied their les- sons and shot bull-frogs, shelled peas and hauled lobster pots, pulled weeds and trapped skunks, let down her dresses and mended his nets; but no word of love was ever mentioned between them. Not even now, though Tom had his business as well started as any in the village.
Nc
I OW Jessie stood against the pillar of the piazza rail- ing. The tide was high, so high that it lapped at the roots of the goldenrod that fringed the road. A tug boat with its string of barges was chugging laboriously up the river. A small bare-legged boy lay flat on his tummy on the dock, daring an eel to leave its shadowy refuge and climb upon his impa- tiently dangling hook. The sun was warm, as only a June sun knows how to be, and the breeze from off the water was cool and salty.
The two ensuing summers were Jessie drew her eyes a bit sadly,
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from the peaceful scene and opened the letter which she held in her Jhand and read it again.
Dear Jessica, it read. Even the Jessica seemed strained today.
Why do you keep me waiting? You have put me off, till I can't wait any longer. I am half afraid that you will change your mind. Why can't I come to you? There was much more, the letter of an impatient lover. He ended by saying that if he didn't hear some- thing very definite by return mail that he would be there on Satur- day night. It was signed Fernald Winters.
t^O the time had come, and the next step was up to her. If she accepted him, she was through with the village for good ; and for five years was not that what she had been fitting herself to do?
Again her eyes sought the .answer in the scene before her, as they fol- lowed the long winding course of the river to where it was lost around a point of land and made up into a cove. The "Annabel Lee" was pulling up to her stake, her snowy sails flapping uselessly, as she came about. A flock of geese honked loudly as they fol- lowed the water up to their well known feeding ground. And down the other way, just coming into the river from the bay, was her father's power boat, towing the two dories. Her brothers would be there, too; and across on the other side, a figure was still sitting on the pile of nettings, and though too far away to see, Jessie knew that he would be energetically pull- ing the wooden seine needle through and through the netting, once to make the square and once to lock the stitch, time and time again, until all the little squares were reconstructed and the gaping holes were gone.
She ran down the path and across the road . She slipped the painter of her skiff off the stake and, dropping it into the boat, slipped lightly in after it.
today?" he had never ceased to see something funny in Jessie's voca- tion.
Jessie stood still and looked at the man soberly, not answering.
"Your needle's in the box, if you want it," he suggested. She usually did.
Not getting any reply from his visitor, he said:
"What's the matter? Got a tooth ache, or something?"
"No, I haven't any tooth ache, and I don't want any needle and you needn't try to be funny," she answered all at once. "I'm serious and I came over here to ask you a question." The copper curls bobbed emphatically with each word. She arranged herself meth- odically on a convenient post and prepared to unburden her mind. Then she paused. She didn't seem to know how to start, after all.
"Well, shoot," the man tried to help her out.
"Tom, I came over to ask you a question."
"Sure. You said that once. Go on," was the none too helpful re- ply.
want me — particularly — so I thought — you were — I was — we were — ." It was her turn to stumble over the words that wouldn't say themselves.
T
a
'NE rows a boat for diversion; one sculls, when on business bent. Standing in the stern, she sculled neatly. Arriv- ing at the other shore, she threw a half hitch over the stake and step- ped out on the dock.
Tom grinned good naturedly.
"Hello, Jess. How's teacher
HEN the thunderbolt fell. With a deep breath of de- termination, she plunged in.
"Do you love me?" she said.
"Well, of course," he answered without so much as looking up from his work.
"Didn't you ever intend to tell me so?" she demanded.
"Well, I don't know's I ever thought about it," he said honest- ly. "You know it, anyhow," ex- pressing the primitive uselessness of reiterating obvious truths.
"Don't you want to know whether I — care for you?" she added more diffidently.
"Well, I know that too, why — we've always been — you've always been — I've always — what're you all excited about anyway?" he finished somewhat lamely.
"Tom Davis, do you intend to marry me?" she demanded explo- sively.
"Course. You'll let me know when you're ready," was the la- conic reply.
"Oh, I will, will I!" Jessie's copper hair almost turned red in this instant. "Well, I'm sorry, but I came over to tell you that I am going to marry a man in Bos- ton— soon." At Tom's look of gasping astonishment, she went on desperately, "You didn't seem to
T.
HE man dropped his work now, and untangling his long legs from the nettings, came over to where the crimson-faced girl sat kicking pebbles into the water.
"Jessie," he said huskily, "you mean that?"
No answer.
"Jessie, look up here," his voice shook, "so's I can see your face." Then he spoke slowly, deliberately, that he might not be misunder- 'stood.
"You mean, there's somebody — a man — that I don't know — that you're going to — live with — al- ways?" Each word seemed to tear itself from his heart and leave a gaping wound behind. There was no bitterness, no humiliation, no chagrin, only an incredibleness that seemed impossible.
The silence was intolerable.
"Well, I had to find out, didn't I?" Jessie looked up at last. Her blue eyes were swimming in unshed tears. She had found out all right. She had found out in a few seconds what, in the natural course of events, she might never have known.
"Don't you see, Tom, I had to find out whether you were just being polite," she explained hesi- tatingly, "after I asked you what I did."
H:
.E still looked be- wildered.
"I didn't mean it," she looked up from under half-lowered lashes, 'scuse please?" the old childish phrase.
"You mean, then — " Tom started, tensely. Hope surged to his head and turned him dizzy. "Don't play with me now, girl. I've got to know the truth, for sure. Jessie," he pleaded, "will you marry me?"
The bright curls bobbed affirm- atively.
So he gathered her close in his arms and tucked her snugly under his shoulder. As the golden rays of the setting sun sl>one its halo of light upon them, he kissed her — gently; then, as the thought of how near he had come tp losing her came to him, he kissed her again — not so gently.
Recreation in the Home
AN ideal of profound signifi- cance among Latter-day Saints is that of family unity, family loyalty. The turning of the hearts of the fathers to the children and the hearts of the chil- dren to the fathers is a basal theo- logical and sociological principle. It is a condition of happiness, of salvation, of eternal progression. The Latter-day Saint home is ready to avail itself of every op- portunity to realize this great ideal. Its genealogy, its temple work and also, by no means least important, its family reunions, are means of achieving this great ideal.
The Family Reunion
THE love, sympathy and co- operation prized so highly by our people properly begins in a family group. From there it ex- tends to larger organizations. The occasional coming together of families in a social way will tend to develop a family pride. The members of the family who have made unusual success in business or in the professions or in religious activities naturally will be brought forward and serve as ideals and in- spirations to the younger mem- bers of the group. So also will the lives of the great pioneer fathers and mothers, if there \ be any in the family, tend to become idealized. But more than all else it will enable every member of the group to know every other mem- ber of the group; and to know each other, generally means to love each other. It will make the family name sacred, and thereby be a source of strength to all who bear it.
A family reunion tends to de- velop family loyalty-— a pride in the family name; it inspires de- termination to "Honor thy Father and thy Mother," and to secure the promised blessings. It in- vites closer association of all family members and offers oppor- tunity to celebrate family events — such as birthdays and wedding anniversaries or other family his- torical events.
The reunion may be held at a
II
home, the ward hall, a resort, or in a canyon. The adult members of the family might unite in a temple excursion.
A carefully prepared program should be arranged with different branches of the family participate ing. Games and activities should be arranged for both children and adult members of the family, that all might partake of the congenial- ity of the occasion.
Suggested Program for Family Reunion
Part I should include the more formal features such as:
(a) Community singing.
(b) Family statistics — births, marriages, deaths.
(c) Who's Who and Where (Significant items concerning the whereabouts and accomplishments of various family members) .
(d) Excerpts from old diaries, or early family reminiscences.
(e) Report on progress of genealogical and temple work.
(f) Round table discussion relative to a desirable project to be undertaken by the family during the coming year.
(g) Two minute talks on subjects such as:
"My proudest moments as a —
(Brown) ." "Why I married a — (Brown)"
Given by In-Laws. "What I loved most in Grandfather." "What I loved most in Grand- mother." "Looking backward and forward." (Courtship and social customs of the past, present and future) . "What I hope to contribute to the — (Brown) name." (h) Dramatizations or tableaus represent- ing pictures from the past: "Grandfather's conversion," "Entering the valley/' "The first home,"
"Bones from the family skeleton," etc. (i) Music interspersed throughout the program.
Part II should be informal in its na- ture and include such things as:
(a) Refreshments,
(b) Anecdotes,
(c) Games (for adults and children) ,
(d) Dancing.
Worship in the Home
ONE of the general objectives set ^ forth in our recreational pro- gram is that it shall engender
responsiveness to the deeper reli- gious experiences. Nothing in family life contributes more po- tently to the realization of this ob- jective than family prayer and worship.
Prayer brings a spirit of hu- mility. The gathering in the morning and evening, where all members of the family, bow in rev- erence, brings a spirit of humility and tolerance for each other's im- perfections and desires. All know that the members fail and succeed as the days come and go. Hence the family ties are linked together with a spirit of mutual under- standing and sympathy.
Family prayer gives confidence. A new day has begun. Each mem- ber goes out with a feeling of doing his best, if he is to ap- proach his Maker at the close of day. Merely asking for divine guidance strengthens individual de- termination and gives confidence in maintaining family ideals — honesty, loyalty, truthfulness, etc. Family prayer increases family loyalty. As each member takes a turn voicing his desires for the family, the others get a glimpse into the soul of that individual. They pray for the absent brother in the mission field, for the girl away at school and for a realiza- tion of all the righteous desires of each in their daily service. This anxiety expressed in family prayer for their well-being and success, increases family loyalty and spirit. Soul speaks to soul in its appeal to God for the things needed and re- calls the manifold blessings in words of appreciation and thank- fulness. The hearing of these petitions for the well-being of all members glorifies the family tie.
Sunday and the Home
'"THE Lord's Day is a holy day — • -*- not a holiday. It has been set apart as a day of rest and wor- ship. A sacred Sabbath begets rev- erence for God. It is not pleas- ing in His sight that the day be given over to pleasure-seeking in places of amusement or elsewhere.
Sunday Schools and meetings have been so arranged as to meet
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the convenience of the people and leave a considerable portion of the Sabbath day without Church ap- pointments. We earnestly appeal to the people to keep their meet- ing appointments faithfully and to utilize that portion of Sunday not appointed for meetings in promoting family association in the home, with the purpose of stimulating and establishing great- er home fealty, a closer companion- ship among parents and children, and more intimate relations among all kindred.
We believe that it is unnec- essary for families to go beyond their own homes or those of their kindred for the relaxation and as- sociation which are proper for the Sabbath day, and we therefore dis- courage more traveling than is necessary for this purpose and for attendance upon appointed meet- ings.
Let all unnecessary labor be sus- pended, and let no encouragement be given by the attendance of members of the Church at places of amusement and recreation on the Sabbath day. If Sunday is spent in our meetings and in our homes, great blessings will come to our families and communities. Heber J. Grant Anthony W. Ivins Charles W. Nibley ' First Presidency.
Enriching The Home With Truth and Beauty
U OMES were established as ^ places of shelter, and little else at first. Gradually the de- velopment of this institution has added to the significance of the term, until today the word home holds a world of meaning. Per- haps we fail to realize the possi- bilities of the home in character
building and the formation of ideals, but we do know that chil- dren and grown people alike ex- press in various ways the type of home which is theirs.
Eating and sleeping are not per- haps, the most important of the needs which the home should sup- ply. In addition to the merely creature comforts there is the vital craving for mental and spiritual food, and only the home can sup- ply these needs adequately.
A beautiful picture may hang upon a wall and be seen daily by a child, but until he absorbs the message, discovers the spirit of the thing, and feels the warmth of the sunshine, or hears the rustle of the leaves or the murmur of the brook, the child is being de- prived of one degree of the richness which should attend his fa- miliarity with that picture.
The eternal questions as to how the moon shines, what makes thunder, how matches strike, what electricity is, and so on indefinitely are manifestations of the develop- ment of the human intelligences which are gathered under the head of "family," and in the home every effort should be made to an- swer such queries satisfactorily and fully. There are many books and magazines which are invaluable in helping to solve these problems, The Book of Knowledge, Uni- versity Book Shelf, and Popular Mechanics being especially good. The fundamental secret underly- ing the successful home is satis- faction and contentment — the place to which we turn because of the fulness of the hours and days spent there.
"Beauty is truth, truth beauty; that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know." — Keats.
(To be continued)
Music — A Gift of God
By CHARLES KENT
f" T is of course very desirable that ■*■ the young should learn to play some stringed or other instrument. It is likewise important that they master, as far as possible, the simpler rules of harmony and the still useful intricacies of counter- point. Doubtless there is very much to be said for all these ac- complishments, but I am of the opinion that for every one person who is able to acquire such a mu-
sical education a hundred will be able to learn to sing. Indeed, I have long felt that every person should show cause why he cannot sing, instead of, as now, regarding this accomplishment as a remark- able one. For this reason alone it would be justifiable to regard singing as the foundation-stone of our musical structure; the building may remain in complete without the other courses but. speaking
generally, it can hardly be said to exist at all without this beginning, for after all singing is the basis of music itself — which is another and sufficient reason for desiring the common practice and knowledge of it among young and old alike. This is hardly the place, perhaps, for an apology for the human voice as a medium of musical expression, but in view of the opinions already expressed, not to mention the pres- ent unfortunate decadence of the art of singing, a few remarks, how- ever parenthetical, may not be amiss.
It has been said that up to the time of Wagner, composers, either consciously or unconsciously, had the human voice in mind when writing a phrase for an instru- ment. Despite obvious exceptions, such as might be observed in the works of Bach and in the latter compositions of Beethoven, this is probably true in the main. You can find traces of Bellini in Chopin; and almost every phrase of Haydn, Schubert, Mozart and Handel can be sung. Music since Wagner has traveled far in the op- posite direction. If any single in- fluence had to be traced in modern music, it is instrumental rather than vocal, which, incidentally, may account for that lack of charm (an unsatisfactory term but I think of no other) with which the more advanced experiments in the art have been reproduced. However, there is an encouraging revival of interest on the part of some mod- ern composers in the possibilities of the human voice as a means of human expression. Artistically speaking the orthodoxy of one generation is often the heresy of the next, so that no one need feel surprised at the reviving interest in the voice among serious musicians. It was bound to come and is very welcome for of all instruments of music the human voice is the most varied, the most expressive — and the most natural, no single instru- ment can ever equal it. Music is an inspirational gift of God to his children. It spurs us on to deeds that are higher and nobler, while it aids in the building of real character. The Almighty himself has deemed this subject of sufficient importance to justify a revelation to the Prophet Joseph Smith. It is to be hoped, therefore, that par- entswill cultivate the habit of sing- ing in the home. The results will richly repay the effort.
The Common Sense o£ Music
By SIGMUND SPAETH Reviewed by Evangeline T. Beesley
DR. SPAETH in this book speaks to the layman as
well as the musician. He proves that literally there is a sense in music common to every- one. He links the essentials in music to concrete experiences—time to heart-beat, melody to bird calls and progresses naturally and in- telligently through music's realm to its greatest achievement, the symphony. He manages a most naive style, treating the subject in a very light yet sincere and attrac- tive vein.
The author begins with melody and speaks of its lure with the idea that the beginnings of appreciation lie here. He speaks of the two- tone melody of the cuckoo call and the three-tone bugle call with the many and varied melodies based upon it: the Star Spangled Banner, Marseillaise, Pilgrim's Chorus from Tannhauser, Sigfried's Horn, Come Thou Almighty King, and follows them with melodies of ad- ded tones.
XJ E proceeds with the new melo • ■*--*■ dies which are based upon older and often far better com- positions. Blossom Time can be given the credit for presenting some of the most charming melo- dies of Schubert to the masses. I'm Always Chasing Rainbows is from Chopin's Fantastic Impromptu; Castle of Dreams from Chopin's Minute Waltz. The beginning of Yes, We Have No Bananas, is al- most an exact duplication of the first four notes of Handel's Halle- lujah Chorus, while the middle sec- tion brings / Dreamt That I Dwelt in Marble Halls. The author does not censure such borrowing but feels that the greater sins of com- position are insincerity and dull- ness.
How do people listen? With their ears? Very often with their eyes. Heifetz has been criticized for not smiling while playing. There are three kinds of listening: rhythmic, which is primitive or physical, emotional, which is senti-
mental and is often based upon outside correlations, and intellec- tual, which considers beauty coldly and contemplates form and tech- nique. Real aesthetic listening en- compasses all three.
V/TUSIC is often a harmonious ^ ■*- background to conversation. Some do their best talking while there is music. Many musicians are asked to dinners to furnish such background. The author presents what would be a success- ful course for a concert dinner, carrying the thought that people at a concert listen for tonal beauty, technical dexterity and excitement. One must not give too much bread and jam of incessant melody. It must be encased in good sized slices of wholesome musicianship. Good appetizers — such musicians as Godard, Chaminade, Mos- kowsky, Kreisler, Raff, Entre, Mendelssohn, Grieg, Tschaik- owsky, McDowell, may have a wide range from entre to climax — Schubert, Schumann, Chopin, Haydn, Handel, Mozart, etc. Climax — Rossini, Donizetti, Ver- di, Puccini with Wagner at his best. Dessert — Bizet and Gounod; Rimski Korsakov is a tasty Rus- sian dressing; Bach, Beethoven and Brahms are the staples of the musi- cal larder. Liszt is good after a climax for a reminiscent mood. Strong cheese is Schoenberg. Sweets are Elgar, Dradla, Drigo, Offenbach; and Sousa's marches are a return to absolute normalcy. Appetite for the best will grow as you eat. Partake freely — you are more likely to starve musically than to over-eat.
What will listeners meet in av- erage concert program? First of all let us consider program music and absolute music. The first consists of songs, operas, oratorios, and all music with titles which di- rect our thoughts. Absolute music depends upon itself alone to estab- lish mood. We have here most symphonies and sonatas and string quartettes. The best program music such as Lohengrin Prelude
may stand the test of absolute. The greatest composers have written descriptive or program music, sometimes using devices to make most literal descriptions. Strauss in the opera Electra gives
actual hatchet blows. Beethoven's- greatest program number is his- Pastoral Symphony, telling of a country scene, storm, calm etc., Mendelsson's fairy music is of program type — Midsummer- Night's Dream Overture and Scherzo, also Debussy's Afternoon of a Fawn, McDowell's Scotch Poem, __Tschaikowsky's -Fourth Symphony, and many others.
Many titles have been supplied after the pieces were written — Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. It is sometimes better to have such re- tentive names. All is fair in creating muisc lovers. Use stories. to help you to listen at first, then discard them. As you advance moods become more important than stories. The response to beauty places man above the ani- mal.
Music is the only art which can express the abstract, can make one without association with the concrete feel joy, sorrow, despair, courage. Truly great music affects all people much the same way. It can affect human character.
HTIME and tune are the real ele- -*■ ments of music. Time di- vided into equal segments is rhythm. It is found in nature — rippling of water, pulse of heart, etc. Rhythm leads to a natural accent which is usually upon the first beat of each group. All time can be divided into groups of two and three. The author here goes into a study of all kinds of meters, of notes of different value, the meaning of the dot following a note, of rest, triplets, syncopation.
He tells of the discovery that manual labor is easier if done rhythmically. Soldiers march better in rhythm. Primitive peas- ants accomplished all activities with rhythm, from which grew
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the folk song. He discusses the manner of beating time: 2|4 down, up; 3|4 down, over, up; 4|4, down, over, out, up. He tells us to use phonograph records to practice such beating.
In a most interesting discussion of lucid intervals, we are intro- duced to the scale on the piano with its 8 intervals. Its half steps, we are led to discover, occur be- tween three and four — seven and eight. Experiment with the scales in different places on the key- board. Pick out simple tunes yourself. Number one is the floor, number three is the landing, num- ber five another landing and num- ber eight the top of first flight, and the beginning of the second. Almost all melodies end on the floor — number one.
HTHE melodious progression of -*- notes is best when within a small range. Love me and the World is Mine, covers less than one octave ;__ Lead Kindly Light, six intervals; Old Oaken Bucket, seven; Old Kentucky Home and Carry Me Back to Old Virginia, eight. There is a law not to wan- der too far from tradition though trying always to put on a stamp of originality. Beethoven, Schubert, and Brahms repeated themselves, but were honest. They did not worry over originality of every note. Of the new compositions anything popular is echoed.
We are next introduced to har- mony and its simplest rules — which notes can be sung together. We hear a major chord and the minor in the same key. We dis- cover the mood of each. Any tune can be made major or minor. Try in The Star Spangled Banner, flatting three each time and sharp- ing four.
All voices are divided into four parts. One part sings lead, which is the easiest; bass is next, usually singing about three notes. Tenor next, usually singing a third above the lead. Alto