--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Sloan, W. J. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 4 number: 10 published: 1901-08 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'W. J. Sloan, "Two Heroes," *Improvement Era* 4, no. 10 (August 1901): 739–741.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0410unse 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: improvementera0410unse start_page: 739 end_page: 741 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1901-08) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0410unse publication_year: 1901 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 1901, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Two Heroes TWO HEROES. BY W. J. SLOAN. I stood with a friend by the side of a marble slab and listened as he told the story of the life-work of the form which lay sleep- ing below; it was a story of patriotism and ambition. Only a few years ago, the roll of the drum was heard throughout the land; at its call, men rushed forward to offer their service, and life if need be, in defense of the flag we love. This was one of thousands. I listened to the story; a happy home, a bright future, the ambitions and dreams of life, and then — the call "to arms," the enlistment, the examination, the trying days of drill and new life, the farewell to home and loved ones, with its march to the train amid stirring music, waving hands of loyal friends and shouts of "a safe return;" the journey to the coast, the Presidio with its drills and military life, the transport, Honolulu, Manila, camp life, General Merritt, Major Young, the rebels, the engagement, the bullet and its vic- tim, the grave in a far-away land, the sorrow of parents and loved ones, the sad home-coming, encased in a sheet of metal, the solemn service and procession, the burial of a nation's dead with military honors! Only too well was the story known, yet from my heart did I echo the sentiment of the reciter, as he said, "Had I my way, after what has been engraved upon this slab of marble, I would add 'Here lies a hero.' And then I thought of another grave, with its little headboard, in a distant part of that silent city, and the story of a life whose keeper I had known. He was a warrior, yet no martial music stirred his blood, no friends shouted words of glad approval in his ear; no comrades charged by his side with a cry of victory on 740 IMPROVEMENT ERA. their lips; his was a long, lonely fight, with none but God and a distant memory to bid him cheer. Born in a little house whose rooms had once been neatly fur- nished but now sadly gone to want, of parents who knew poverty as only those who live such a life can know it, — poverty is no crime yet ofttimes its causes are, —a father who loved drink and stopped not at worse; hunger, cold, curses, sin, were the atmos- phere of the baby-land he knew. The only redeeming feature of the child-life was a loving, patient mother; strangely sad are the devotions of some women. This mother died when the baby was six, at a time when the father was in a state prison. A few years, and he passed through the experience of an orphan's home, adopt- ed parents, and the loss, by death, of the latter; and then came the great world, and the fight for existence, the dawning of manhood, and a growing realization of the truth of the divine words, "The iniquities of the fathers shall be visited upon the children." Yet with this knowledge came the memory of a mother's words, the advice of adopted parents, and the desire to live an honest life. At the age of fifteen, the fight had begun in earnest, it was a fight between right and wrong, good and evil, the one learned, the other inherited; it was not to be the fight of a day nor of a year, but of a lifetime. I use his own words, "From the age of fifteen, now nearly fifty years, there has scarcely been a day in which I have not longed for liquor. I have never tasted it in my life, and yet I sometimes fancy that I know its taste as well as they who have used it for years; even at this day, I ofttimes long for that which I know is 'an enemy which men put in their mouths to steal away their brain.' The desire was born in me, a father's inherit- ance, yet with the help of God, it shall never be gratified." But the love of drink was not the entire inheritance; the tree ever comes from the seed unless grafted, even then the root remains though bearing no fruit, yet from that root, runners will shoot up; cut them down ere they destroy that which is of value and yields good fruit. This man cut down deep the runner of dishonesty as well as that of immorality, which sprang from the inherent seed; a silent voice seemed to say that it, none will know; go this path, live as other men live, your family will never know, none need be the wiser. Ah, ye who have never felt the tempter's luring hand urging you on, ye TWO HEROES. 741 know not what it is to fight the silent battle which means blackness or dawn for your soul. In such an hour, there came to him a whisper, an echo from childhood, "Oh God, make and keep my darling child honest and pure, and let him hate drink." It was the prayer of a mother, uttered in thel ong ago, the memory of a teaching, whether followed or not, which lasts while life exists, a mother's words uttered in childhood's hour. As he repeated the prayer, he said, '"I know that God heard that prayer, and that with his help it has been answered; sometimes, in the hour of darkest trial, I have felt the gaze of a pair of loving eyes, long since dead to the world, yet living to me, and they have been as a beacon light." Distant from all the world, without the applause or encour- agement of men, he fought alone and in silence! And the greatest battles of life are those which are fought i» silence. Not rich in the world's goods, yet contented and happy, a kind husband and a loving father, he died at the age of sixty-six he had lived a simple, ; humble life, and those who had known him said, "'Tis a good man laid to rest," and they spake more truth than they knew. I stood and thought of the life and death of those two who lie sleeping the last great sleep; one in the dawn of manhood, one in the twilight of age; one had faced and met death at the hands of an enemy in a distant land, and they who had known him honored him as a hero, nor would I take one jot of honor from him; he had earned it all. The other had lived and kept the life of a hero, in silence and alone, with only his God to witness his struggles; and I thought: could I have my way, these two, spring and winter, should lie side by side in this silent city with one stone to mark the spot, and on it these words, "Here Lie Two Heroes." "Peace has its victories no less than war." Nothing is hidden, nothing is secret; the giver of life knoweth every life; before him all shall stand; by him, all be judged, by him, rewarded.