---
title: Improvement Era
description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930.
authors:
  - Young Men's Mutual Improvement Associations
collections:
  - periodicals
tags:
  - magazine
  - improvement-era
periodical: Improvement Era
volume: 2
number: 5
published: 1899-03
publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations
publisher_place: Salt Lake City
language: en
type: magazine
reference: "Young Men's Mutual Improvement Associations, \"Our Work: A Word About the Era,\" *Improvement Era* 2, no. 5 (March 1899): 390–391."
source:
  url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera25unse
  transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers.
  identifier: improvementera25unse
start_page: 390
end_page: 391
rights:
  status: public-domain
  basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1899-03)
  source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera25unse
  publication_year: 1899
  note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1899, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright.
---

# Our Work: A Word About the Era

<!-- page:390 -->

After the lapse of ten years, when Mr, Clemens had "arrived" and
was indeed the best-known author in America, "Mr. Harrison came over
and led me," relates the humorist, "to the General, and formally introduced me. Before I could put together the proper remark, General
Grant said, 'Mr, Clemens, I am not embarrassed. Are you?'—and that
little seven-year smile twinkled across his face again,"
An itinerant preacher of more zeal than discretion, passing along a
country road, met a simple looking countryman driving a cart of peat,
and asked him, "Do you believe in God?"
"Yes, sir," he answered,
"Do you read your Bible, pray to your Maker, and attend church
regularly?"
On these questions being answered in the affirmative, the preacher
said: "Go on your way rejoicing; you are on the high road to heaven."
The peasant iiourished his whip, giving it an extra crack, and drove on,
greatly pleased at the intelligence.
Shortly afterwards, the preacher met another person, and put the
first question to him. The man with a look of surprise, said, "What
is your business what I believe?"
"Alas," replied the preacher, "you are in the gall of bitterness and
the bond of iniquity; look at that poor fellow whistling so pleasantly
along the road; he is on the high road to heaven,"
"It may be sae, sir," said the man, "but, if he's gaun there, to my
certain knowledge he's gaun wi' a cairt o' stolen peat,"
* * *
A cotemporary recalls the story of Fred Archer, the great English
jockey and a distinguished surgeon. Archer was one day severely
"savaged" by a bad-tempered horse, who happened to catch the great
jockey napping, and got his toes between his teeth. Archer went to
consult a leading surgeon, a gentleman whose skill had won for him the
title of baronet, sent in his card, and hobbled into the great man's consulting room. The surgeon examined the injury, which he pronounced
to be of a grave character, and one necessitating a long period of complete rest,
"How long must I lay up?" asked Archer,
The interview, it should be stated, took place early in April,
"Three months' rest, with careful treatment and proper diet, would
be sufficient," ^
"But what about the Derby?" asked the patient.

<!-- page:391 -->

^'The Derby?" repeated the surgeon.
"I must be there," said Archer
—"I absolutely must !
"
"Well, well," said the surgeon soothingly, "take great care of yourself, and if you make satisfactory progress you may go."
"Go—yes; but can I ride?"
"Well," said the surgeon, "you had better drive, I think."
He had read the name upon his patient's card, but it had meant
to him nothing more than a name.
"You mustn't think me rude, Mr. Archer," he said, when his guest
had explained his identity and calling, but I take no interest in any
branch of sport, and I had never heard your name."
"Well," said Archer, I hope you won't think me rude either; but, till
a friend advised me to consult you, I had never heard your name either.
And when I asked my friend who you were, he said, '
He is the Fred
Archer of the surgical profession.'
"
* * *
Mr. Laurence Hutton tells a story of Edwin Booth that reveals the
kindly heart of the man whom the world knew as a famous actor.
Mr. Hutton called upon Mr. Booth one afternoon at the Albemarle Hotel,
in New York, and found him in an easy-chair, with a pipe in his mouth.
The long chat which ensued was not undisturbed. Mr. Booth was in
great request, and before long a waiter entered and put a card into his
hand. "Tell the lady that Mr. Booth is engaged," was the quiet answer;
and an influential leader in New York society went away disappointed.
A few minutes later a second caller—a man honorably known throughout the country—turned away without seeing Mr. Booth. Yet another
card was sent down, with the statement that "Mr. Booth was engaged,"
and a gentleman and his wife, whom few people would have refused to
receive, became convinced that the actor was an exception to the rule;
but at last came a name that met with a different fate. "Show the lady
up," said the now interested actor, and Mr. Hutton put on his overcoat to
leave the room. He was not allowed to depart. The lady was a friend
of his, and would be glad to see him, he was assured. Therefore he
waited, curious to discover the identity of the person who could obtain
an audience with the man who had been too tired to see the daughter of
one of the most distinguished men of science in the country, or a judge
of the Supreme Court of the United States, or a bishop and his wife. The
door opened and in walked black Betty, the old negro servant who had
nursed Mr. Booth's daughter when she was a baby, had taken the most
tender care of his wife when she was slowly dying, and been a life-long
friend to them all. She had left Mr. Booth's service after his daughter's