The Call of Authority, II

The Call of Authority. BY H. R. MERRILL. II. It was the day before Christmas. The snow was falling in large, feathery flakes, robing sagebrush and grease-wood in dewy white. Around the Williams' farm stretched the fantastic shapes in three directions, until all was lost in the snowy mist. Behind the house the cleared fields lay, with the yellow stubble barely visible above the snow. In front of the farm house the county road wandered away into oblivion to the north and south. The lonely house and corrals and stables were as entirely shut off from the world by the falling flakes as if they were alone upon the earth. Inside the house all was clean and comfortable. It is true, there was no more furniture than was absolutely necessary for the accommodation of the family, and the furniture they had was built more for durability than for beauty, yet there was some influence about the place that proclaimed it a home in the very broadest sense of the word. Everybody was preparing for Christmas. Mrs. Williams was busily engaged making fancy cakes with which to fill the little stockings when Santa Clause should come. The savory odor from cooking pastry and roasted meat was pleasant, and seemed so good to Ted that he ceased driving his chair-horse long enough to exclaim, "Oh, mamma, I can even smell Santa Claus!" Molly, a lass of seventeen, was assisting in the preparations, with her sleeves rolled up and a daub of flour on her nose, but, on the whole, looking very healthy and sweet. Ted, a boy of eight,

THE CALL OF AUTHORITY. 585 was busily engaged with his chair-horses, while little Eva was getting her doll ready to receive dear, old Santa Claus. Mrs. Williams stopped with her knife in the air, as she finished cutting out a fancy cookie elephant, "Is that your father and the boys, Molly?" she asked. Molly dropped the rolling pin and ran to the door. Yes, it's them!" she cried, all excitement; for she knew that Santa Claus' pack was somewhere in the sleigh. John Williams came in, after shaking the snow from his coat and hat and wiping it from his beard. "It is certainly snowing. If it keeps on like this we'll have two feet of snow in the morning," he said. "Daddy, daddy, did you see Santa Claus?" the children cried, as they gathered around him. "Yes, I saw Santa Claus," he answered, as he took the two youngest on his knees. "Did you tell him to bring me an engine, and a drum, and a pocket-knife?" Ted asked. "Santa says he is very poor this year," the father answered, as he stroked his hair. "But he sent this for me to give to you today." He brought out a sack of stick candy, and the children were soon back with their games again. "Did you get a letter, John?" his wife asked. "Yes, we got a letter from Jimmy." The elderly lady wiped her hands and adjusted her spectacles. Her hands trembled as she took the letter. "Poor boy!" she said, wistfully. "I wish he could be with us tomorrow." She took the letter, and, sitting near the window, began to read, but she had to wipe her glasses several times before she was through, for there is some subtle influence that steals over the heart at Christmas time, which causes us to crave for all that we love to be near. She knew that her Jimmy was among strange people, and that they were anything but friendly to the humble "Mormon" elders who left home and family and friends to yield obedience to the Divine call to go and teach all nations. She knew, also, that since the first Christmas the Master and his true

586 IMPROVEMENT ERA. followers had been persecuted and slain for the testimony which they bore. "The boy seems to be doing all right," the father said. "It seems that he has obtained a testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel, at last." " 'I'm so glad I came,' he writes. I can never be too thankful, either, although it is very hard to get the money for him. He talks as though he is making it go as far as he can." "Yes, it's hard to get the money," Mr. Williams said. "Taxes are past due now, and he asks for money, and I'm sure I don't know where it is coming from. The price of wheat was low this fall, and there was no sale for hay, at all, and money's so scarce that I can't borrow any. I'd hate to have the boy come home, for I am sure that if he doesn't do the world much good, it will be a good experience for him." "No, John, we mustn't think of Jimmy's comin' home, as long as we have a roof over our heads, 'till he's released. I'd rather mortgage the farm first, and then Jimmy can help us pay it off when he comes home." "I always hate to think of mortgagin' the farm, now we've got it cleared, and in a condition to bring something in, for it's been a long, hard fight— but then we know Jimmy's engaged in the Lord's work, don't we, Mary? And He says to seek first the kingdom of heaven and his righteousness, and all things will be added. For thirty years these old hands have grubbed and hoed and worked on this farm, but if my life's work is needed for the spreadin' of gospel truths, I am willing to give it all. I ain't so young as I used to be, but I can start again." "Yes, John, everything belongs to the Lord, and he will repay. Everything must come right in the end, for he is our guide; and even if we should 'die before our journey's through, all is well.'" After the chores were done, the boys came in and prepared for supper. John, the elder of the two, was like his father — hale and hearty — but the lines on his forehead, even at that early age, proclaimed him a thinker. Francis was tall and slim, but, for all that, strong and healthy. When all were seated around the table, the father returned

THE CALL OF AUTHORITY. 587 thanks, after which each one helped himself to what he desired of all the good things, for, although there was nothing costly or grand about the meal, it was such a meal as can only be found upon a western farmer's table. "We are all here but one," the mother said, as she looked around at the smiling faces. "I hope that he has a shelter tonight and a good place to stay-" The meal went on in silence, on the part of the old folks, for each was thinking of the vacant chair. One was wondering where he could find a man who would take a mortgage on the farm, while the mother was thinking of her wandering boy, and praying God, in her heart, that he would raise up friends to care for him. When supper was over and the dishes were washed, the family gathered around the stove, parching corn and telling stories of other days. The feathery snow had changed to dry, cutting flakes. The wind had arisen and howled mournfully around the house, as he rattled the windows and sifted the snow through the crack under the door, in a vain endeavor to do away with this one cozy spot which defied his power. "It's a bad night, tonight," Mr. Williams said, as he took a handful of corn. "We should be thankful for our comfortable home, if we haven't much money." Just then the dogs began to bark, and went bounding along the porch. "I wonder what that can be?" Mrs. Williams said, as she opened the door and looked out. "There's a man at the gate." Her husband went to the door. A man left his horse at the gate and came in. "Good evening," the stranger said. "Good evening," Mr. Williams replied. "It's rather a bad night. Won't you come in?" "Yes, it is a bad night. I was wondering, mister, if I could put my horse up and stay here tonight, or a while, at least, till my horse rests a little. He's plum give out." "Why, certainly. Come in. The boys will 'tend to your horse. John, take the gentleman's horse and put him in the stable.' ' The stranger shook the snow from his wide, white hat, and

588 IMPROVEMENT ERA. stepped into the room. He was a tall, good-looking young fellow, and was attired in a long, yellow "slicker." ''Take off your 'slicker,' and make yourself at home," Mr. Williams said, as he placed a chair near the fire. The "slicker" was removed, and the man stood revealed, clothed in the wild splendor of a western cowboy. The children opened their eyes when they saw the leathern chapes, and the great pearlhandled revolver that hung lcosely from the stranger's belt. "I ain't in no Christmas togs," he said bashfully, "but I hope you won't mind." "Not at all, my boy," Mr. Williams said heartily. "Just move up to the fire and thaw out a bit. ' ' "Yes, do, and I'll fix you something to eat. Make yourself right at home. Molly, set the gentleman a plate." The kind lady busied herself about supper for the guest. "We were just talking about what a bad night it is. It's a good thing you found us and stopped." "I kind 'a hated to stop," the stranger said, "but Buck was plum give out, so I had to- But I hope I won't inconvenience you none." "Not a bit, sir," the good lady responded. "We've got a boy out somewhere among strange people, and we are not a-goin' to do anything for you but what we'd like somebody to do for him." "Yes, we've got a lad out in Illinois on a mission — but maybe you don't know what that means. Well, we are 'Mormons' and when our young men are called on a mission, they go and travel without purse or. scrip, where they can. Our Jimmy's been out more than a year now, so, you see, whenever we can we are glad to repay some good Christian who cares for our boy, by givin' someone else's boy shelter." "I used to work with a young 'Mormon,' and he told me something about this missionary work," the stranger replied. "He told me that the missionary had to pay all of his own expenses, too. I should think it would take quite a lot of money to do that." "Yes, it does," Mr. Williams replied, as a shadow passed over his face. "Yes, it takes a lot of money," his wife joined in. "It

THE CALL OF AUTHORITY. 589 is pretty hard for us just now, but I know we'll pull through somehow. Won't you sit up to the table now?" After the stranger had commenced eating, he looked so frank and listened so well and seemed so young, the old lady launched forth upon her favorite theme — Jimmy and his doings. She told how much they missed him, and how hard it was to get money enough to keep him, and how the Lord had blessed them since he went, and then, in conclusion, she said: "We are in the tightest pinch that we've ever been in, right now. Taxes are due, and Jimmy needs a new suit, and crops were poor and prices low. John says he doesn't know where he'll get the money, but we are goin' to try and mortgage the place, but dislike to do it, for John has been workin' on this farm for thirty years, and mortgages are so hard to pay." The voice faltered, and sounded full of tears, but with an effort she finished: "I know the Lord will open up the way for us. He has never failed us yet." "Mary, the gentleman won't want to hear all that. It's Christmas, besides; so, away with cares, for tonight and tomorrow, anyway." When the stranger was through eating, they all gathered once more around the fire, and resumed the corn-parching and stories. The stranger was very silent, but seemed to be enjoying the home-like circle. Occasionally his eyes would wander to the sweet, womanly face of Molly, but if she happened to catch his glance, they would fall, and a deep blush would creep up beneath the tan to the very roots of his dark hair. When the hour was growing late, Mr. Williams arose and said, "It is bedtime. Let us have prayers and go to sleep, so Santa Claus can come." The family moved their chairs around in a circle' and kneeled down. The cowboy stood looking on, embarrassed, not knowing just what to do, but, just as Mr. Williams began to pray, he dropped onto his knees. When the simple ceremony was over, he brushed a tear from his sunburned cheek. It was the first prayer that he had heard in a family circle for many years. What a

590 IMPROVEMENT ERA. crowd of memories came flocking back to him, as he listened to the humble invocation! He was assigned to sleep with one of the older boys. When his head touched the pillow, his fancy carried him back to the little cabin on the Potomac, and once more he could hear the sweet voice of his mother, and feel the tender lips, as she kissed him good night and tucked him in his little bed. The next morning, when all was excitement over the treasures which Santa Claus had brought — although they consisted of but a few nuts and a little candy for each, and a few cheap toys and fancy cakes for the little ones— the stranger took his hat to go out to look after his horse, and lo, Santa Claus had remembered him, also; for there, in his hat, was a bag of candy and nuts, as big as any that any of the children had received. He put it in his pocket and went out with moistened eyes, caused by the thoughtful kindness of these people to a total stranger. When he reached the barn, he found the farmer's horse outside in the cold, and his own pony snug and warm in the comfortable stable. He greeted the glad whinny with a kind word, and, as he rubbed the broncho's yellow neck, said, "Buck, old boy, we fell in with friends this time, but, I reckon, we'll soon have to be on our way. I hate to leave, f^r it's the first real home that you and I have struck for a long time." When breakfast was over, the stranger arose and said awkwardly, "You folks have been very kind to me, but I reckon I'll have to be goin' now." "Why, it's Christmas day! Can you get home in time for dinner?" Mrs. Williams asked. "Well — not quite in time for dinner, but I don't know as that will make much difference. I ain't been home for Christmas dinner for many years." "Well, I never! How's that?" the good lady exclaimed. "I always like my boys home on Christmas." "I ain't got what you could call a home— but the ranch — and most of the boys go home, so I usually knock about somewhere," the cowboy answered.

THE CALL OF AUTHORITY. 591 "Then you'll stay right with us," Mr. Williams said decidedly. "We've got one vacant chair, anyhow. We haven't anything very grand to eat, but if you will stay you will be doin' us a great favor." The man looked from one kind face to the other, and at the home-like room. "Well, if it won't be imposin' I'd like to stay, for it seems good to be at home," he finally said. "Christmas is so lonely when you are alone." Thus it was settled that the stranger should stay. The day was spent as Christmas day can only be spent— with pleasure around the home fireside, amid the crack of nuts, the pop of corn, and the delicious smell of turkey and plum pudding. In the evening the stranger "thawed out," from the combined influence of the fire and the brotherly kindness shown towards him, and told many thrilling tales of the cow camp and the trail, until all were sorry when the clock struck twelve. After thanks returned to the Father who is the Lord of the Christmas day? and is so kind to his children, the family circle broke up, and all went off to bed with many cheery good nights. When the stranger and Francis were preparing for bed, the cowboy suddenly asked, "Would you show me a picture of your brother Jimmy?" Francis opened the old desk and took out a photograph of Jimmy, dressed in missionary style. The stranger looked at the face for a moment and then asked, "Did he ever work in Montana?" "Yes, he spent three years up there herding cattle," Francis replied. The cowboy handed the picture back. "I think I have seen him before," he said, as he got into bed. The next morning, when breakfast was over, Buck was brought out and saddled, in spite of all the farmer's warm invitation to stay longer. When all was in readiness, the stranger put his hand into his pocket and said, "Now, Mr. Williams, what do I owe you for the keepin' of my horse and me? I can never pay you for your kindness, though."

592 IMPROVEMENT ERA. "Don't you mention pay to me, my boy. Didn't I tell you that I've got a boy out somewhere, and maybe he can't pay; but if that wasn't the case, it would be the same anyway. Our latch string is slways out, and when we get too poor to keep a traveler without pay, why, I reckon, we'll be most too poor to live." The stranger was a true westerner, and tried no more to pay for that which is not for sale — true hospitality. "I am very much obliged to you," he said. "I hope you'll forgive my offerin' to pay, but if I ever get a chance I'll repay it." He shook hands with the farmer and the boys, and then, as he took the good lady's hand, he said awkwardly, "You've been very good to me, misses. Tell B Jimmy, hello forme." He swung into the saddle, and as he rode through the gate he raised his hat to Molly, who appeared at the door for a moment. "Now, boys, hook up!" Mr. Williams cried. "I've got to find somebody who will let me have some money." The boys went off to the stable. Mr. Williams and his wife went into the house, with sad faces. The farmer began preparing to go to. town, while Mrs. Williams went in to make the boys' beds. He had just got his coat on, when his wife came running out of the bed-room. With trembling hands she held a piece of paper out to her husband. "Oh, John, read that!1' she cried excitedly. John took the paper, and with wonder read: A couple of years ago, I knowed a young "Mormon'' who was called "Brig." I liked him pretty *well, and we came to be pals. He was called on a mission. When he left, he told me if I ever wanted a mother to go and see his. I didn't know this was his home until last night. You have been both a father and a mother to me. I happen to have a little money with me, and I hope you will accept it for "Brig's" sake. Jack Hillman. The old man unrolled the bills and counted them. "Two hundred dollars!" he cried, when he had finished counting them. "0 John, we won't have to mortgage the farm!" The good

THE CALL OF AUTHORITY. 593 wife threw her arms around her husband's neck, and they wept for joy. "Well, Mary, the good Book says that bread cast upon the waters, after many days shall return, but ours returned the same day." Out on a snow-clad hill a traveler stopped his horse and looked back at the lonely house set, with its few corrals and stables, upon a wide stretch of matchless white. He gazed wistfully at the barren scene, and tears moistened his eyes, as he took a little Testament from his pocket and reverently kissed it. "No wonder 'Brig' got homesick," he murmured. And he turned his horse and rode leisurely on into the frosty north. [to be concluded.] THE SALT LAKE THEATRE, FOUNDED BY BRIGHAM YOUNG, AND OPENED MARCH^8,H862.