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The Castle Builder. Part II, VII–VIII

Improvement Era, vol. 5, no. 10, August 1902, pp. 770 to 782

Nephi Anderson

THE CASTLE BUILDER. in NEPHI ANDERSON, AUTHOR OF "ADDtD UPON," "mARCUS KING MORMON," ETC.

VII.

THE ROAD FROM THE SUMMIT OF DESPAIR TO THE LAND OF PROMISE.

Harald was out early. Just as the eastern sky paled, and then opened its depths of light, he passed over the hillside and down to the highway which led up the valley back of Akerby. The last lingering star could yet be seen, as he crossed the bridge. Usually he stopped on this bridge, to view the leaping waters of the river; but this morning, he went on without even a glance. When the sun arose he was out of sight of the town; though down over the low hills, he could see the smoke-filled air of the city. He left the main road, and took a pathway which led over some rolling hills to the right. The farmers were astir. The lowing of the cattle, andjthe bleating of the impatient sheep, came to his ears. Wherever the hills were not too steep and rocky, the land had been cleared of trees, and was growing crops of wheat and potatoes. Harald did not trespass by crossing the fields. He knew how the farmers disliked anyone tramping on their crops, so he always went around, following the stone walls. Another half hour's walk, and' the cultivated lands were passed. Above him stretched the hills with their forest": of fir, with here and there clearings and patches of birch trees and wil- lows. Above and beyond the hills, arose the mountains, in places broken by rocky peaks; in other parts, pine-clad to their summits.

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He found a trail leading upward through the forest, and followed it. Not hurriedly —there was no need of that: he had all day for his trip; yes, two days if he wished. The bright, beautiful June morning on the mountains aided him. Had the earth been gray, and cold, and the air chilling, he would have had so much more to overcome; but the life-inspiring morning braced him, and put spirit into his soul. He had always been a mountain-climber, a lover of the hills, and had often gone to them in his troubles. With their calm, and their solemnity, they had as often soothed his boyish fears. It was natural, then

that be should now go to the hills. On them, if anywhere, he could get away from the world, and approach near to God; and if

at any time in his life he felt as if the heavens ought to be easy of access, it was that morning. The sun was well up in the sky when he threw himself down to rest on the grass in an opening. He was out of sight and sound of any human object save it were the toy-like houses, away down in the valley, from whose chimneys faint clouds of smoke arose. His eyes lingered on these buildings asif they were the

last links that bound him to this world, from which he was loth to part. He saw them magnified in his vision. Brown, weather- beaten, low-roofed they were, with windows of small bottle-green glass which sent out dazzling reflections when the evening sun was low. The roofs were of stfd, at this season covered with grass and flowers. And the smoke from the chimneys! What an indication of peace, as it curled gracefully up into the still sum- mer air! No doubt that farmer was at peace with the world and with his God. He could go about his daily toil, and return home in the evening to his wife and children, with only bodily weariness to make his footsteps slow. How blessed he was! Peace, heaven- kissed peace of soul! Did I own the world, and not thee, gladly would I barter my possessions for thee! As he lay there on the grass, Harald Einersen reviewed again the arguments for and against his "accepting the gospel," as the "Mormon" put it. The world on one side; truth on the other. Honor on one side: ignominy with salvation on the other. The love of a woman, dearer than life to him, on one side; Christ and the peace of God, on the other.

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"No man having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God." "I will be fit, then, Lord," said Harald, and he took his hat and continued on up the hill. For another hour he joumed upward. The sun emitted its warmth as it sailed through the clear sky. A breeze came down from the mountains, and the pines murmured their discontent that they were thus forced to remain in one spot all their lives. Ah, how Harald had seen them tug at their roots when the elements were aroused and went calling in the wind for their earthly kin to follow; but no, there they stood, and must stand until they be- came hoary with age, or until the wood-chopper cut them down in their prime. "Blessed trees," said he, "you are not compelled to work out your salvation with fear and trembling." Harald had fasted since the evening before and now felt weak. He would have to husband his strength, or it would fail him before he returned to his home. So he walked more slowly and chose the easiest paths. At noon, the mountains were yet some distance ahead of him. The earth below him had become hidden in a mist, and he looked out as if on a sea of smoke. Before him the peaks arose into the clear air. He knew their distance, and considered he could reach the summit in two hours more. About the middle of the afternoon, he came to the timber line. From there on, nothing but rocks and low bushes appeared. He sat again to rest before he should finally make his journey to the summit. On the sunny side of a rocky ledge were a number of butterflies darting hither and thither in the warm air. One of them fluttered onto his hand for an instant, and then spread its yellow wings again. Yes, once you were an ugly^ gray worm, he thought. Once you lived on the earth — the earth, rather. You crawled in in the dust. You ate coarse food. You knew nothing but what you came in direct contact with. You did not then dream of living in the air, floating on the summer breezes or did you? — Who can tell? Who knows the secrets of that gray worm? Who can tell but that within its tiny cell a world of thought existed then you w-ent to sleep. You lay wrapped in your cerements, all through the long, cold winter. You were as though dead,

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though we know your life still remained in you. Thus you lay until the warm sunlight of heaven touched you with its magic rays. You awoke. You arose as from the grave. You passed from one world to another. You spread your golden wings, and flew into space. Now you live on the nectar of flowers. Now you go where you will. You have been born again. You now see the beauty and light of the world, yea, live in and partake of that beauty and light. Before, you lived in the kingdom of the earth; now, you live in the kingdom of the air. "Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." How much, then, is man like the butterfly! He, also, must be born again. That is the only process by which he can shake off

the old man of sin and put on the new man of righteousness. Man must be born again, "born of water and, of the Spirit," or he can- not enter into the kingdom of God. Harald went on up the mountain. There was no path, and he was obliged to make his way slowly over the rough hill-side. At last he reached the top of the peak, where he found a small, level space, strewn with loose boulders. Once more he rested. Other peaks could be seen farther on, but there were smaller hills and valleys between. Towards Akerby the country seemed to suddenly terminate, and the ocean lay stretched out to the distant horizon. The low-lands were yet under the summer mist. Not a sound arose to him, not a human object was in sight. No bird sang. Not an insect chirped. The hilltop was bare, so the breeze had nothing to sway nor play upon. Harald was now surely alone, alone with his God! He sat on a large boulder on the side of the down towards hill, looking Akerby. What had he come that long distance for? Would not God have answered his prayer in the secrets of his own room, as well? True enough, but he was compelled to get out —and then he had read of how God talked to men in ancient days from the tops of mountains. He remembered Moses and the prophets. He remembered Abraham, and how God had commanded him to take his son, his only son Isaac, whom he loved, and offer him unto the Lord as a burnt offering on the mountain. Yes; God had also

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called him to the mountain; called on him to lay his all on the altar. Would God provide a ram in the thicket for him? Then he went to the center of the level space on the summit, and with a stone marked the outlines of a small square. Then, gathering the larger stones lying loose near by, he placed them true to the line, making a walled square. The inside, he filled with smaller stones. For half an hour he worked. Over the top of the structure he placed the smoothest stones he could find, and then his altar was ready. The sun was nearing the western horizon. The breeze had fallen to a zephyr. The world was silent Taking off his hat, he laid it on the ground, and knelt by the altar. Extending his arms over it he bowed his head into his hands. He had never before approached God in vocal prayer, other than in the prescribed form of his Church. He had come there to pray, to ask of God for wisdom, for light, but now words failed him. The old forms came to him, but it would be mockery to utter them. They could not express the emotions of his bursting heart. What could he do? What could he say? He rested heavily on the altar of stone. Then tears came to his relief, and he sobbed, sobbed as a child does on its mother's breast. "Grand- mother, mother, Jesus," he said, "teach me, help me to pray." And then came that soft, angel-touch which gave him quiet, and that sweet voice whispered rather to his heart than into his ear "Speak to God as a child speaketh to his father." Then he prayed. Out of the abundance of his heart, the words came to his lips. He spoke to God as one man speaks to another, telling of his desires, of his sorrows, of his trials, of his ambitions, holding nothing back. Then he asked for light, that he might be shown his duty; asked for a testimony of the truth or the false- ness of the doctrines brought to him by the "Mormon" elder. He pleaded for strength to embrace it, if it were true, or for power to throw it from him, if it were false. "Father," he said, "I want to do the right, help me to do it. Let thy light shine around me, let it enter my heart. I am weak, and but a child. I grope in dark- ness, not knowing what to do. Help me, show me thy will, and then, 0, Father in Heaven, I promise with thy help to do my duty only help me"

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Still he prayed on, seemingly afraid to cease, for fear of the old dread coming back to him; but at leno^th he grew faint and

arose to his feet. Yet he was not satisfied. He walked back and forth on the hill. The sun neared the horizon on the sea. Jacob had wrestled all night with the Lord. "I will not let thee go, except thou bless me" he had said. Jacob was in no greater need of a blessing than he. Once more he knelt by the altar and prayed; but it was not until the third time that he arose satisfied. The sun had set, and the summer twilight brooded, like a ben- ediction from God, over the land, as he made his way down the

mountain. It would be an all-night's journey home, but a nigl t in June is never dark. He wa3 weak, but what matter! There was an assurance in his soul that God would be with him. Miraculous manifestation he had not received; but there was a peace in his heart which com orted him. I. The truth shone undiminished into his soul. Froii thehe beheld the dim valleys lying in the hills

shadows of night, but the sea reflected the light of the sky, and OU' beyond it all, he could surely catch glimpses of the fair Land of Promise.

VHL

harald's return to father and home.

Early one summer morning in July, Harald Einers?n was bap- tized, and became a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of

Latter-day Saints. It was then that the term "born of the vater

and of the Spirit" came to him and in its full and true meaning;

the Father's promise was realized in his case, as it inevitably will

be in all cases. He had proved the matter: he had done G d's will,and had received a testimony. To be bom again necessarily brings, once more, a period of childhood. In truth the kingdom of God must be received as a little child or there is no admission therein. He felt the lorce of the Savior's teachings, in this respect. He surely felt as a little

child, and ah, the glory of that feeling! "Heaven lies about us

in our infancy." The peace of a new life lay about him. He

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seemed yhorn of all his grown up egotism. He could now trust im- plicitly in the Powei- that ruled on high. To do his simple duty, and

to trust in God, what joy in that. As in his first childhood, he had looked forward with the trustful eye of faith, and had seen the glories of future accom- plishments, so now, in the beginning of his new life, he looked into the future with buoyant hopes. Even as a child, he reveled in the beauties of tha golden sands on the shore, and looked out on the limitless ocjan before him, dreaming of its vaster possibilities. Harald Einersen was now a "Mormon," and did not care how soon the world, his world at least, knew of it. The struggle hid — been long and hard, but it was now over and he was satisfied. Not that he revolted against his former plans of ssrving his countiy, but he knew that now he was out of it. K the movement was to be carried on, some one els 3 would have t) forward it. His leader- ship was at an end. He had gone into a new world, and this change was as complete as if he had died and had arisen in another sphere. The news that former Head Maste Harald Einersen had be- come a "Mormon" spread rapidly through the town of Akerby, especially in the West district where he was well known. Pastor Bange rubbed his hands, smiled and said, "I suspected as much.'' Pastors Jensen and Skabo again recalled his peculiar mental con- dition earlier in the summer. There were universal expressions of pity and regret for Mr. Einersen, and unqualified condemnation on the head of the crafty "Mormon" elder who had thus made such havoc with one soul, at least. At the next meeting of the West Akerby Club, Harald was in his usual place. He was calmer than ever, and some remarked to each other that his becoming a "Mormon" had not lessened his dignity. At this meeting Harald talked plainly to his friends. He had nothing to conceal, he had done nothing for which he wished to apologize. "I have simply followed tha right as God has given me to see it," he said. "If each of you, my friends, are doing that, I shall be the last one to find fault wifc:i you, or condemn you. I ask the same consideration for myself. I know the full conse- quences following my action. I know the contumely which I have brought down upon me, but knowing also that when God calls, no

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man should disobey, I dared not do otherwise. The Master said that 'He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me.' If Christ had laid his cross on you, would you refuse to carry it?— but, my friends, I will not talk religion to you —though I can give plain proof of my convictions, and if any wish to know — them, I shall be pleased to have thim call on me but what I now wish to say is that you are not to distrust me. My past obliga- tions to you and the cause of greater freedom are sacred. Nothing shall come from my lips to injure you or betray you. I must leave you, but that need not materially affect you. You may go on and may God bless you m your work. I wish now to hand in my

resignation. It will be best that it be accepted."

As he sat down, silence still continued in the hall. For a minute or two no one spoke or moved. He again arose and bego;ed them to act on his resignation. Then a motion was made that it be accepted, and the motion was carried unanimously, but without much spirit, it is true. Soon after, the meeting adjourned, and


Harald Einersen walked homa alone, for the first time since he had been connected with the West Akerby Club.

"No, you must not hold my room, Mrs. Jacobsen. I shall not

need it longer. I may never cjme back to Akerby." Mrs. Jacobsen was very much concerned. During the years of his residence with her, Ha. aid had becom3 more like a son than a mere boarder. There were tears in her eyes when he bade her farewell. The coast steamer bore him towards Vangen and Opdal. He was going home. The fact was, he hardly knew where else to go. He had suddenly become homeless in his native land, and friendless in the midst of hundreds of friends. So he would 2:0 home to Opdal, home to his father's humble cot, to his brothers and sisters, and to the grave of his grandmother. It would be usahss to try for a position as school teacher. Be was out of that for good, at least in the kingdom of Norway. He had not money enough to set up in business. He would go home and await developments. Besides he had the gospel message to bear to his kinsfolk. The/ must also hear i:, and, oh, the joy if some of them would heed its call!

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Harald landed at Vangen early one evening. He told the de- liveryman on the wharf to take his trunk to the hotel, and he fol- lowed it. After supper he walked through the little town, looking at the familiar scenes in the old sea port. Then he went into Merchant Bernhard's former place of business. The store looked much the same. A stranger, however, was behind the counter, and he informed Harald that Merchant Bernhard had sold out some months ago. He was now devoting his whole time to his business at Larvik. Mr. Bernhard hardly ever came to Vangen now, and Miss Bernhard— well, she had not been seen for a long time. The clerk had never met the young lady, and knew very little about her. "I am som3times inclined to believe that she's only a mythical being," he remarked good naturedly. The next morning, Harald arose early and set out for Opdal. There had been a sprinkling of rain during the night, so the land was fresh and sweetly-scented. He greatly enjoyed the walk up the road bordering on the fjord, where recollections of boyhood scenes and exploits came to him at each new turn of the road. He remembered his row down the fjord, when first he went to Nord- land. It seemed to the young man that he had lived a lifetime

since then. And now he was returning home very much liks the child that went out that morning years ago to make a mark in the world. The sky was overcast with broken clouds; but here and there, the sunshine emerged in streams of yellow light. Where it fell upon the ledges, it threw every detail of grass and moss and flower into distinctness. The fjord shone in radiant patches. Up over the hills, the forests yet stood in sombre silence. The woods were full of life. The birds sang; the squirrels ran from tree to tree, leaping from one extended branch to another. He entered into the joy of the scene. He often went from the road up the hillside, and found blue-berries to eat. A short distance from Opdal, he saw a man walking slowly in front of him. By the gait and the way his cane was swinging, he knew it was Mr. Juel, the old schoolmaster. Harald quickened his steps, and soon overtook him. The schoolmaster was getting old, too. He leaned heavily on

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his cane, as he eyed Harald from head to foot. "Harald Einersen? Why, yes, certainly, I remember you — but you've changed so.

Didn't you have a beard the last time you were at Opdal?" "Yes." Harald's face was now smooth. "That's why I did not recognize you. Well, I'm pleased to see you. You're home on your vacation, I suppose. I hadn't heard of you for a long time. You were Head Master, then. Yes; I knew it was in you. I'm always glad to hear of my boys getting along in the world." The two walked slowly up the road. Harald did not tell his companion of the changes in his life. He would discover it soon enough; besides, the young man had an idea that his brother should be the first to hear of the tidings of great joy which he had to bring. Harald asked the schoolmaster many questions about the people in and around Opdal. "Your father, too, is getting old. Yes; he still drinks, when

he can get a chance; but the boys are all sober and God-fearing. In fact, I understand that Holger is studying for the ministry. Pastor Ingman is encouraging him very much. Oh, yes, Holger

took to the catechism as a duck takes to water— not like you, eh?" "But, you know, I learned mine well, and ought to have stood at the head, at confirmation." "Yes, I remember. Well, I'll tell you, if you have not already learned it, that everything that goes under the name of religion is not religion. Religion has not escaped the general adulterations of the age." "I have found that to be true, Mr. Juel." "Take your father, for instance, I respect that man, in spite of his great weakness. He gets drunk, and when he is drunk, he often abuses his wife and children; but I tell you, Harald Einersen, that aside from this, there is a heart of gold in Einer, the logger. There is substance to him, there is honesty, and, above all, there is not a trace of hypocrisy in your father. Harald, I want you to

honor him for these things." "I am glad to hear you say that," answered Harald. The clearing, and the two houses, were now in sight. Before Harald parted with the schoolmaster, he promised to call on him.

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He was to remain at Opdal for some time, and they would have many talks together. Harald left the road before he came to the path leading up to his father's house. The little, one-roomed house where he and his grandmother had lived was still standing, and he wished to take a peep at it first. It was fast falling to decay. The weeds and grass now grew up to the very door step. The little glass window had been taken out, and boards had been nailed up. His mother's flower garden was no more. The shrubs and climbing vines had been taken away from the walls. Harald pushed the door open, and went in. One end of the room was piled high with wood, the result of the industry of one of his brothers, no doubt. But for the wood, the room was vacant. Harald seated himself on the chopping block and looked around. This, then, was his birthplace. Here his mother had died, and he had been left to the care of his grandmother. Here they had lived together. Right in that corner, by the old pot-stove, the rude cradle had stood, and grandmother had sat, hour after hour, many and many a day, rocking that cradle and humming a droning melody for him to sleep, the stocking leg growing longer and longer, meanwhile. Oh, the hardships of those days ! Oh, the joy of their childhood innocence ! Grandmother's teachings came to him again. They had been truly prophetic, and the blessed assur- ance that he would be able to help her some day gave him unspeakable joy. - There the bed had stood. By it he had repeated his little prayer that she had taught him.

Harald's eyes were dim. He went to the door and looked about. He could hear children's voices over at "the other house," but no one was in sight. He went in again, closing the door after him. It made the hut dim and cool. Then Harald knelt by the log of wood, and offered a prayer. Harald had gotten into the habit of doing this, not only night and morning, but as often as place and circumstance prompted him. It was his main source of

strength. Then he walked over to his father's house, and, as he went, he wondered whether or not he was the prodigal son. The children in the yard stopped their playing when they

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caught sight of him. They did not know him. The mother came to the door, but she did not recognize him until he spoke. Of course, they were all pleassd to see him. Father was away, as usual, and would not return for a week. Holger and Jens were working on a neighboring farm. Hulda was reading with the priest, getting ready for confirmation. There were three younger children, who stood around Harald, barefooted and bare- headed, with eyes and mouths open in big wonder. The step-mother was plainly embarrassed to know how to provide for Head Master Einersen. Another room had been built onto the house, but still everything was poor and crude, and Harald had, no doubt, been used to fine things for many years past. He, however, understood well her disadvantages, and soon made her feel that all he wanted was a welcome to stay, and share with them their lot for a short time. The next morning saw him dressed in farmer costume, dig- ging in the garden which had become sadly neglected, of late. He soon won the good graces of the children, and they all became fast friends. For a rest, he took them all up into the woods to pick berries. That afternoon, Hulda came home to see her brother. She was a bright girl, but somewhat shy of the learned "Professor Einersen," as the neighbors called him. Then the brothers also came home, and the next day, the father, having heard that Harald was home, could not resist the longing to see him. What a field was here for Harald! To convert his whole family to the same gospel truths which he had received was cer- tainly a task worthy of any sacrifice or labor; and they certainly

would see it. They could not help but understand. He would make his explanation so clear that "a wayfaring man, though a fool need not err" — and they were not fools by any means.

Harald did not go abruptly about this work. He approached his brothers first, and led them on to religious topics. Then he preached faith, repentance, and baptism to them, but they did not

get enthusiastic over his talk. At last, he came out boldly and told them his whole experience. He put into his words all the fervor of his own conversion, but a blank look of astonishment was all he saw in their faces.

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"And have you become a 'Mormon?'" exclaimed Holger. "That is what I will be called." "Why, that is terrible. Oh, brother, how could you! I must not listen to your talk." Harald pleaded and explained, but it was no use. The whole household, from the mother to the smallest child, seemed fright- ened at him. Holger, especially, became bitter, and told him he had no business coming home with such detestable doctrine. It was a disgrace to be associated with such vile people, a people everywhere spoken evil of. Harald was both astonished and grieved. Day after day, he dug in the garden and went into the woods alone. His father had gone again, but when he should come]home, Harald would no doubt have to pack up and leave. His father would certainly not coun- tenance his presence after he knew what he had done. He would go to his father and tell him the whole truth before Holger should give him a wrong impression. He would be first, anyway, and bide by the result. Harald found his father in the pine-woods, away back in the hills, and his heart went out to him when he saw how slowly he worked. They sat down on a fallen tree, and talked for some time, and then Harald tried his hand at swinging the ax. "A little bungling, but you haven't quite forgotten," said his father. "Harald, I'm glad you came. The men have gone down to the river today, and I would have been alone tonight." That evening, in the hut among the pine-hills, after the supper had been eaten, Harald told his story, delivered his message to his father. He sat on one side of the rude pine-board table with his Bible open before him. His father sat on the other side smoking his pipe. The lamp burned red through the grime on the chimney. For hours Harald talked. He had never felt so free before. Explanations came easily to him. The father listened, but said not a word. When Harald would seem to stop, the father would sim- ply say, "Go on." His pipe went out, and he placed it on the table. He leaned over, drinking in eagerly every word that fell from the lips of his son.

Outside was the stillness of night.The wind moaned in the pines. The night darkened towards the midnight hour. Still the