--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Hyde, W. A. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 12 number: 3 published: 1909-01 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Hyde, W. A., "The Woodchuck and I," *Improvement Era* 12, no. 3 (January 1909): 227–230.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1203unse 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: improvementera1203unse start_page: 227 end_page: 230 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1909-01) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1203unse publication_year: 1909 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 1909, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # The Woodchuck and I THE WOODCHUCK AND I. BY PRESIDENT W. A. HYDE, OF THE POCATELLO STAKE OF ZION. I had climbed the mountain side to the crags and timber, and sat to rest. On one side a cataract blustered noisily, on the other, a precipice rose sheer and impassable. Above its summit there soared an eagle on wide, lazy wings. Near me out of the earth there rose a temple reared by ants, and in and out of its portals, and upon its roofs and terraces, the insect builders plied their ceaseless labors. A movement among the rocks drew my eye, and I beheld an animal which I took to be a woodchuck emerge from a crevice in the cliff and stretch itself, ignorant of my presence, upon a large flat rock. Soon thereafter there followed another, marked slightly different, its mate no doubt, and took its station by its fellow; they and I the only animals, by what the eye could tell us, in the whole wide universe. Here lay these two representatives of a race, from what time we know not, — among the rocks the bones of their progenitors, — these crevices worn smooth by the feet of thousands, within this silence locked up, the history of their loves and wars, — of time measured by snows and blazing sun, — and these only appeared the present embodiment of all this past, — the nucleus also of the mighty future. Was there anything in their mien that bespoke undisputed possession of this world between the stream and the precipice? Maybe there was egotism in their calm assurance and fearlessness; but whether or not that were true, I, who knew of the great world without, pitied their sufficiency and fell to musing: Thou, 0 man, art the great egotist. Thou sittest bounded and restrained within the confines of the earth, yet thy heart swellest 228 IMPR 0 VEMEN T ERA. in thy possessions, and thy head is lifted high because of thy dominion. Thou buildest, thou makest paths which are smoothed by many generations; thou compasseth the earth with conquest, and fire and smoke accompany thee, but what art thou? Looking with the eayle from a cloud, the eye beholdest — what? A swarming of ants merely, that run and dig and delve; and presently a force of nature shall crush them, and sweep them, leader and follower, into oblivion. Art thou more than ant or animal? By what sign dost thou prove it? Thou speak est words, and from the cloud the ear hears the confusion of Babel, as of the chattering of apes, and bleating and bellowing. Thy noise is a discord, and there is no harmony in it. Thou writest words, and of books there are great heaps, — of confusion preserved — wherein man arguest and disputest, until the heart sickens aiid prefers the bull which bellows and is forgotten. What is thy law? The law of might of arm has marked thy way. This thy doom, that there shall always come a stronger, and the slayer shall be slain, if ye but wait. All this rises out of the past, confused as of mighty wrestlings and roarings, of which thou, man, art the center; and still thou bendest thy neck to the strife, as did the primal savage with his axe and club. Hast thou no further proof? Seest thou not beyond this rock and stream, 0 animal? Of the mighty dome that compasseth thee, what of it? Yea, thou seest the stars and measurest them; thou weighest them as in a balance. The times of their seasons thou dost determine, and the mind is lost in a multiplicity of reckonings,—and what doth it avail thee? The ant knoweth when to burrow deeper, and how much to store,— knowest thou more than that, or so much even? What thou knowest, that availeth or preserveth thee, that much knoweth all the earth! Speak again, thou egotist, that I may know thy reasoning. All these things thou seest, knowest thou the cause? The sun thou mayest weigh and the moon thou mayest measure, (and all these mysteries the Egyptians knew ere thy day) but these shall flame and radiate long after thou and thy book hath perished. This now shall be the end of thy reasoning, 0 man,— that God hath spoke and writ. Happy thou, if thou hast heard and seen! THE WJODCHUCK AND I. 229 Heard thou hast not, nor seen but the writing of some clerk or printer. Yea, but I believe! Come, 0 man, let us reason together, "thy confession is good for thy soul," here is the beginning of thy wisdom. What teachest the ant of winter, that it shall burrow or hoard? Sayest thou instinct? More truly, it is knowledge of things to be. Whence cometh this knowledge? From speech or writing? Nay, from out the great fountain of Truth. Knowest thou tomorrow? But poorly as thou by many figures shalt reckon; not so wise thou as the animal, that lays up great supply for long winter season, and reckoneth not upon tablets. So much is vouchsafed out of the great store of Truth to every creature, in some way or other, call thou it instinct or what thou wilt. Dost thou know Truth, for that alone shall live. Consider the chatterings and babblings of many generations, — they are forgotten, but out of the confusion there cometh now and then a call from the fathomless fountain. This reverberates through the universe forever. It shall never be stilled. It is divine. Behold thy great mass of books, some shall utterly fade; and others as tunneled by Time's myriad scavengers shall show only here and there a word to live. Paul, Shakespeare, Emerson and Dante have dipped into the fountain. Whatsoever poet has sung true, — whatsoever artist has painted true, — whatsoever teacher has spoken true, these are messengers and ministers of the source of truth. Look into thy heart, 0 man, — is truth in thee? Dost thou know? Not enough that thou shalt see the sun and stars, for these blinking beings on the rock have seen. Hast thou no measure nor standard but of weights and figures? Canst thou by reasoning find the source? Canst thou by hearing know? Thou "incarnate word," is thy speech truth or lies? If truth, then thou art expressing so much, so far as thou goest of that which is eternal. That much within thee is divine, be thou savage or whatever else. Thou egotist with thy telescope, thy search is vain to find the center of things! Turn thy far-seeing instrument into thine own soul; and there behold if thou mayest the spark that lighteth thee; till thou hast done this, search not the upper air for truth. Yea, 230 IMPROVEMENT ERA. rather blind thine eyes, and stop thine ears, and stretch forth thine invisible organs and feel. If thou be searching, that within thee locked up must seek, yea, with all thy heart thou must reach, and the light that is within thee shall find its source. Somewhere in this vast illimitable dome, in which hang myriad stars, is God. He is Truth and Light, and so much as thou art related to him in desire, thou mayest understand him, and if thy heart have within it the divine, thou mayest find him, even as "deep calls to deep and is answered." If thy center be thyself alone, then thou art, as I suspect, the veriest egotist, and thou mayest smite thy breast and rant in vain, for thy frothings are not in tone with the Universal Harmonies of Truth. I arose to go, the brush cracking beneath my feet, whereupon I stood revealed to the innocent cause of my contemplations, in which I noticed a swift transformation. The eyes, hitherto dull in their complacency, now gleamed in a frenzy of fear. Gone the aspect of sufficiency, for traditions and experiences were shattered, when they beheld in me their unanswerable contradiction. Into their understanding, dull as it may be, had come some conviction of omnipotence, and with mad haste they scurried into the shelter of the rock to quell the tumult of their hearts, within its fastnesses. I reached the rim of the canyon and looked out upon the world. Below me clanged the city with its tumult and din; the smoke of engines darkened the sky; their giant snake-like trails, — the path of a mighty commerce, wound from my view out into the great beyond, that I had never seen, but which I knew to be. In my heart there throbbed emotions in mighty struggle, — the greatness of man — and the Infinitude of God. Instinctively my gaze turned upward, and met the calm of a bent heaven. Standing upon this mountain, immeasureably grander than any monument ever built by man, [ felt myself near some power, greater than all else beside. Let me enter bravely and cheerfully into the smoky din below, and when the day of the great revelation comes, I shall not scurry fearfully to my cave in the rocks, for there shall be a voice my heart shall know that shall say, "My son, be not afraid, for it is I." Pocatello, Idaho.