Two Letters. A Poem

1092 IMPROVEMENT ERA studying this new revelation. If it appealed to his conscience, he would join it; if not — That little matter of what people would say if he embraced "Mormonism" was, notwithstanding, a nettle in his hand. For deep down in his consciousness, he felt vaguely that somehow his destiny was wrapped up with his faith. There came over him now distinctly the feeling that had possessed him long ago when as a hungry, penniless boy he had sat by the Weber river near Ogden eating a solitary loaf with only the dog for a companion to whom he had tossed the few last morsels. (There will be two more installments of this interesting story which will be concluded in the December number of the Era.) Two Letters Friend of Mine: I am sorroy that you have so many little ones. No doubt You are growing old too soon from so much care. You are missing much of profit and no end of pleasure, too, And you never can have pretty things to wear; To say nothing of the havoc children make within the home, As they rant and race and pull and soil and tear. I am not extremely happy even now, and I confess I do not know what I should be if when I desired something greatly, I must disappointed be, Just because I must remain at home with them. My Sister : There is smear from tiny fingers on the sill and window-pane, The chairs are left askew from eager play; There are dresses worn at elbows, stockings out at knees and toes, Work enough to keep one busy night and day. The house is quiet only when the Sandman comes along, And I tuck my babes in bed all tired out. From sunrise until sunset they scamper and they climb, They laugh and romp and tease and cry and shout. But when, at night, I stoop to kiss each upturned, rosy face, As at my knee my darlings kneel to pray, I wonder what this life would be if it were not for these, The little ones to care for day by aay. Sometimes, when grown aweary, I think of other homes With stillness undisturbed by childish voice, And my heart resumes pulsation with thankfulness to God, For the blessing, doubly mine, through right of choice. Grace Ingles Frost.