The Home Guard

THE HOME GUARD. > 433 He paused, but she did not say anything. "And then I was sent out in the country to work without purse or scrip. The president said that such an experience would do me good, would develop some dormant 'something' within me, and would also be easier on you in the matter of money. Well, I tried; but that was worse than town work. We were like tramps — we had to ask as many as twenty times to get something to eat, and then we slept out in the woods more than once, and, well — " The young man turned his face to the wall. The wife looked up at him. "Yes,"- she said softly, "I believe it was hard on you." After a painful pause, he turned again to her and said, "I know what this will mean to me. I know people will say that I am a coward, a deserter, and all that, but — " "And what will it mean to me?" "You can't be blamed. You haven't had anything to do with it. I am at fault, I guess, and I will take the blame." "Won't I feel it just as much as you?" "I suppose so— but you are not to blame—" "Wait a moment, George. . . . Sit down here, and we'll talk it over. I also am to blame for this. I have done some complaining in my letters. It has been hard for me, and I have not been careful enough in what I have said. I hope the Lord will forgive me!" She bowed her head again, and he took it withm his arm. "Little girl," he protested, "you are not to blame in any- thing. You have been brave, and if it had not been for you I could not have stayed as long as I did." The awakening cry of a child in the other room drew the mother to it. With lamp in hand she went in, the young man following. "May I see him?" he asked. "He is going to sleep again. We had better not wake him. See, hasn't he grown!" The father looked with admiring eyes at his child as it lay in its mother's bed, with little arms and legs outstretched, and chubby face upturned. Then he touched gently the plump baby cheek. "Isn't he a dear?"

George nodded assent. "Do you remember what you said to him the very day he was born?" asked she. "No; what was it?" "What a fine missionary he'll make!" "Did I say that? I don't remember." "Yes; and I think he will, too. I hope he will grow up to fulfil that prediction. . . . But, George, you are hungry. When did you eat last." "Yesterday morning — but I am not hungry." "Why, you must be starving! I'll get you something to eat right away." With lamp in hand she led the way into the kitchen. She pulled the blinds carefully down to the bottom. Then she brought a pin of milk, a loaf of bread, and a bottle of fruit. "I'll eat with you," she said. "I had very little supper, and I am hungry now. I know you like bread and milk, and you don't get it every day in the mission field — especially such milk as this. Here, the top goes into your bowl. I had splendid luck with my baking last time, which isn't often the case when I have visitors. It may be a little hard, but the cream will soften it." She pushed two chairs up to the table and seated herself on one. He mechanically took the other. He was desperately hun- gry, and the bread and milk served by his wife in this way was tempting. As he took the spoon, he discovered that his hands were soiled by the day's travel. "I'd like to have a wash first," he suggested. "I'm pretty dirty." "Why, certainly. I'll get you a basin of water -and here's the soap and towel." Then they ate their bread and milk. "You must try these peaches," she urged. "I did not put up many this summer, because I knew you wouldn't be here to eat them. But these are some from that choice tree down at the bottom of the lot. Here, have some more cream." "But you are not getting any." "Oh, I don't like cream— tonight," she laughed. "There will be plenty for me after you have gone back to your mission field. ' '

THE HOME GUARD. 435 "But I am not going back." "Don't say thai! Of course you are going back. This is just a visit." "How can I go back now?" "Just as easy as you came, George, and easier than you can stay." "No, no!" The wife sipped at her bowl, and when her husband had fin- ished his meal, she drew her chair close to his, leaning her arms on the table. He took her hands in his, looked at their somewhat calloused palms, and then into the face which was a little pinched. Her big brown eyes were larger than ever, he thought, but the slight wave in her hair was the same, though she had diligently combed it back into the plain, old-fashioned style to which she was accustomed. "It's good to be home again, and with you," he said, as he held her hands more closely. "Yes, George, it is good to see you; but — but your home- coming isn't just right, is it?" "No, I guess not; but — ' "There is a sting to the sweetness to me, and to you, too — now isn't there?" "Yes." "Make this just a visit, George, and come home ri^ht to me and your boy, and there will be no sting then. You will, won't you?" "How can I? It's too late." "Are you sure of that? How many people know of your coming here?" "My companion and the conference president know. The mission president will know soon, and then the whole Church, I suppose." "And tomorrow morning you will have to give an account of yourself to our surprised neighbors, and the whole town. What will you say?' ' "Tell the truth, and take the consequences. I won't care, if vou will stay by me." "Yes, I'll stay by you; but I'd rather do it in this way: I'll

work for you, pray for you, and never utter another complaining word. I 11 do anything for you, so that you can go back and hon- orably fulfil your mission. ... I want you to fill your mis- sion as your father did, as you, yourself, hoped to fill it — as you will want your son to do. Go back, George, and try again. I know you can do it, and I will help you." The crying of the baby drew the mother away for a few minutes. When she returned she found her husband leaning on the table, his face in his hands. She put her arms around him, and then he drew her down on to his knee. "Yes, Amanda, I'll go back," he said. "I'll promise you to go back and make up for lost time. Just let me get on my feet again, and earn some more money, and — " "George, you must go back now — this very night!" "I can't do that." "Yes, you can. That will be best. That will save you, and — and save me. Daylight must not find you here. It is now nearly twelve. At 2:30 a train leaves that you can take. Go back to your mission field. No one will be the wiser for this visit. Your president will forgive you, and say nothing. Go on with your work. Get the spirit of your mission, and the time will fly. It's just a few months more, and then when you come home your boy will run to the gate to meet you, and all the world may know that you are home — but not now!" "I haven't a cent of money, Amanda." "I have. I have fifteen dollars. I was going to send it to you next week." "That is not enough to take me back." Amanda hesitated a moment, fearful that some insurmount- able obstacle should come before them. Then a happy thought came. "It will take you part way/' she said. "It will get you out of here. Don't buy a ticket at the station, but get right on the train and pay the conductor. Ride as far as you can, and then telegraph me an address, and T will telegraph you more money. . . . Oh, I'll get it! Trust me for that! You'll go, wont you?" "If you say su — yes, 111 go!"

THE HOME GUARD. 437 Shortly after two o'clock the young man, with suit case in hand, left the house. The young woman accompanied him to the gate, and there they parted. She watched him go down the road and disappear in the darkness. Presently the train was heard rumbling into the station, then the line of shining lights glided noisily out again, and was soon lost behind the trees Amanda stood looking and listening until she saw and heard no more, then she turned and walked slowly up the path to the house. A Crisis. {For the Improvement Era.) Ambition in his breast was all aflame; It smote him with a frenzied, burning craze To seize that phantom prize — alluring fame — And reap his measure of a world's vain praise. High aspiration matched with strength supreme Could vanquish all, so let them come who might; Ah, soon triumphant, his the cherished dream — A flash of victory burst upon his sight! But strange things happen oft to mortal men, Just when they think to quaff the cooling draught; The cup e'en to the parched lips, and then, Down falls some cruel, intervening shaft. It seemed to him thus, at the crucial time — A triumph full within his eager grasp — Called hence where ne'er the sound of plaudits chime, To self-abasing toil, and thankless task. He bent his o~vn to that superior will, Gave o'er the quest to unenduring fame; Now plied his strength the law of love to fill, And gathered wealth that lasts beyond a name. You might have hailed him "conqueror" as he passed: Now thousands bless his service with their love, He smiles upon his fortune thus amassed And gives the praise \o Him who rules abo/e. Louis W. Larsen. Burlington. Vehmoni

The Greatest Problem of the Human Race. BY DR. ROBERT STEWART, PH. D., PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY AT THE UTAH AGRICULTURAL COLLEGE. [Recently at chapel service Dr. Stewart delivered, before the stu- dent body, this thoughtful talk on the importance of an agricultural education. It contains just such encouragement to young men to go "back to the farm" as thousands of them need today, and incidentally tells why the state is willing to expend two hundred dollars a year for every student who attends the Agricultural college. One half the people of the world go to bed hungry every night, and the great prob- lem confronting the human race today is learning how to produce food enough to feed itself. The Era obtained the text through the courtesy of Mr. Lon. J. Haddock. — Editors.) Even in this enlightened age, we occasionally hear some pub- lic speaker make the remark that man, to become an educated man, must study this or that subject. It is only recently that we heard the statement, in all seriousness, that a man was not edu- cated until he had stidied Latin. Webster's dictionary defines "educate" as "to develop and cultivate, whether physically, mentally or morally, but more completely limited to mental activ- ities or senses. ... To prepare for any calling or business by systematic instruction." Spencer says, "To prepare us for complete living is the function which education has to discharge." Since the beginning of history, at least, the human race has been divided as to what is the best form of education. Probably as long as the race shall last it will still be divided, possibly because there is no one best form of education. The kind of an education which is good for one man, probably is not the kind