Joseph Smith, Jr., as a Translator: A Plea in Bar of Final Conclusions

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LITTLE PROBLEMS OF MARRIED LIFE 309

therefore act calmly, wisely, with kindness and dignity, and frankly recognize conditions and with perfect fairness take the gentlest action that will remedy them. Better a short, decisive battle fought to a finish than a constant series of petty squabbles and skirmishes. We cannot be just to others if we are unjust to ourselves. If one lives ever under the sceptre of the decision of others, it is not free life — it is slavery.. One cannot keep emotion constantly corked up ;some time that cork will come out perhaps inoppor-— tunely. True love, true companionship, true living, can reign in the home only as there is in the home an atmosphere of liberty, of individual freedom in its highest sense. If there be interference from outside forces, whether they be from the family or others, that tends to blight the joy, rest,

peace and calm of the home, that threatens to bring in even the thin edge of the wedge of discord between husband and wife —that interference should be silenced forever. The home should be a sanctuary of refuge, not a battle-ground of discord ; it should be a place where the angel of love ever swings the censer of peace, and calm, and happiness. ["The Incubus of Constant Faultfinding" is the title of the next chapter in this series.]

I Would Not Know I would not know the measure of today Lest blind, recursant I Should seek to wile some potent hour away, That pain would sanctify.

I would not list the monQchord of fate All erudite to be, Lest I should cringe from anguish consummate, And chortle to be free.

Of alchemy, to probe erstwhile, the end, I seek no whit of power Suffice within my micr.ocosm's trend. To face each little hour. Bertha A. Kleinman. MESA, ARIZ.

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War 1 feel thy scorching breath upon my cheeks, demon god, that broodest o'er the world. Who, with the speed of maddened whirlwind, seeks To devastate the nations, to make faint, By hunger, thirst, that e'er thine allies are :

And conflagration's cursed, swift-shod feet, Which were and ever are thy guiding star. 1 feel the wretched bane of thy caress,

The vampire kiss that robs humanity, Throughout the ages, of her noblest, best, And leaves behind the venom of its sting Within the heart and soul of those bereft. Upon earth's vast expanse, I see a stain, A stain of crimson like unto a flood, Remembrancing the struggle and the pain Of those who upon thine altar placed their all, Obedient to thine insatiety. And now, I see a face peer 'tween the bars That hold it captive, hear the rythmic beat Of snowy pinions, flecked by sanguine wars And know that not 'til sound of tramping feet, Which marks thy minions, shall forever cease, Will angel hands, that rolled away the stone, Thrice bless the world by liberating Peace. Grace Ingles Frost. WATERLOO, UTAH