--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Nephi Anderson collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 18 number: 3 published: 1915-01 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Nephi Anderson, "The Home Field," *Improvement Era* 18, no. 3 (January 1915): 195–208.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1803unse 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: improvementera1803unse start_page: 195 end_page: 208 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1915-01) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1803unse publication_year: 1915 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 1915, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # The Home Field The Home Field A Mutual Improvement Story for Parents and Officers BY NEPIII ANDERSON, AUTHOR OF, "ADDED UPON," "STORY OF CHESTER LAWRENCE," ETC. I The dusk of a summer evening deepened over the village of Taborton, when the forms of four small boys could be seen stealthily approaching Shoemaker Jacobson's house. This house was situated around the corner from the main thoroughfare on a side street. The front room, which served as the village shoe- mending shop, was near the sidewalk. The other rooms sloped in a series of lean-to additions well into the lot. "Is he in?" whispered the rear boy.- "Yep there's his light," replied the leader as he peeped ; around a corner of the fence. "Listen, he's mendin' shoes yet." "Hen, it's your turn to put it on," said the largest of the boys to the one next to him. "No, it's Reddy's turn," explained Hen. "Last night I put it on ol' man Parson's." "Shucks, he don't count," ruled the leader. "When it comes to tick-tackin', this is the only place that amounts to anything." "Well, I ain't afraid come on." ; The boys paused at the gate. This gate was the most sub- stantial one in the village, fitting well in a high picket fence. Hen gently tried the gate. It was securely fastened with chain and padlock. "Gee, fellers, look here !" The four conspirators came close and examined carefully the latest move of Shoemaker Jacobson against his tormentors. This called for a council of war, and the boys withdrew to the other side of the street to talk it over. Of late there had not been many thrills in their fun. Per- haps the hot weather had made grown people too lazy to move fast, especially at night after their day's work. Of the two evils, putting up quietly with the devilment of the boys, or chasing them over the town to catch them, most of the people decided that to "grin" and bear it was the wiser plan. Not so, however, with Shoemaker Jacobson. He retaliated with all his might on his ene- mies, and it was remarkable how swiftly his little old thin legs could get over the ground when he had a fleeing boy to lead him on. He lay in wait for the disturbers of his peace, so it was 196 [MPR( >\'l MENT ERA necessary for the boys to plan carefully and approach skillfully the old man's stronghold, all ol which added zest to their "fun." "He thinks we can't gft in," remarked William Staley, other- wise Rill or more often Shorty. "Huh, we'll show him," said the boy known to his mother as Clarence hut to the boys as Kiddy — because of his hair. The tallest of the hoys had been christened Solomon Johns- ton, one Sunday afternoon in the meetinghouse, some twelve years ago; but only last summer down by the swimming hole his spindly legs had received the attention of an older boy, and hence- forth he was known as Skinny. The conference lasted for fully ten minutes. Then the light was seen to disappear from the shoemaker's front room, ?nd pres- ently appear in his bedroom. TTe was going to bed early, secure in the efficacy of the pad-lock and chain. The boys waited until the light went out for good. They would "get it back on him," by letting him get to bed before they began their pranks. Then they all crept up close to the side fence, and Hen was helped over. He tip-toed across the strip of grass, around by the currant bushes, and then stood up by the window. He listened for a moment, then finding all still within, he dug the point of his fishhook well into the upper part of the sash so that the nail tied in the cord a few inches from it would strike the glass. Carefully playing out the ball of twine as he retreated, he passed it over a branch of a tree, then over the fence to the boys. When Hen had safely returned from his hazardous part of the game, they waited again a few minutes, gloating over the com- ing excitement. Skinny tested the cord to see if the tick-tack worked properly. He lifted the nail gently, then let it fall back on the glass with a light tap. Fine! Tap, tap, tap! then a pause again tap, tap, tap, a little harder, and louder tap, tap, tap. : Presently the window blind went up and the figure of the shoemaker could be dimly seen behind the window. The boys knew that they were safe yet, for that window was never opened winter or summer. Tap, tap, tap, went the nail, defiantly, as it were, nearly in the old man's face. Tap, tap, tap, and he could not prevent it unless he came out at the door. Then they heard him shouting to them, but they bravely per- sisted until they saw a light and they heard the door open. With a strong pull the hook came away and the boys retreated with their battery in good order. However, as far as the boys could tell, the shoemaker did not leave his door step. The light went out again, and the boys crept back to their former position. "Let's give it to him again," suggested Reddv. "Let's." "It's your turn, Reddy;" whereupon, Clarence Brown, it must THE HOME FIELD 197 be admitted, with some fear and trembling was boosted over the fence right into the grasp of their wily old enemy. — — "Jeg skal laera dig du " Reddy's yells rang out in the stillness of the night, striking terror to the other three who scampered away as fast as their legs could carry them. Reddy squirmed from the shoemaker's grasp, leaped like a cat over the fence, and darted down the street. "He's coming, he'll catch ye," he yelled in warning, as he and Skinny left the street and started cross-lots through the field to the other end of town. Hen and Shorty separated, one going up the street homeward, the other climbing the hill, to the east of the village. The shoemaker stood for some time in the middle of the road, shaking his fist first in one direction and then in another and muttering his strange foreign maledictions. Then he went slowly back into the house. Half an hour later the four boys met at their usual rendezvous behind Bishop Brown's barn. They were out of breath with running and excitement. "Did he hurt ye, Reddy?" "Naw, not a bit." "He chased me half way up the hill," declared Shorty. "I thougth he was follering me," said Hen. "Gee, it's fun." "You bet," agreed the others, though their teeth had not stopped chattering. — What's that? Someone moved in the shadow towards the road.. Was the old man trailing them to their lair? They had had enough for one night. Why didn't Shoemaker Jacobson go to bed, and let them alone? Sh — The boys edged around the hay stack . to the corral bars, then darted out on the sidewalk, nearly run- ning into, not the old shoemaker, but Wentworth Jones, one of the young men of the village. "Here, you rascals," he asked, goodnaturedly, "what are you up to ?" Wentworth was a good fellow who "took" well with the boys. He had lately returned from a mission. The added dignity which had come to him through his mission was not of the kind which the boys resented and so these four boys walked along with him ; that evening and boasted to him of their night's adventures in typical boyish fashion. He did not scold them, nor try to give them good advice. He was not in the humor for that. One by one the boys slipped into their homes, and, with well-acted inno- cence of any act which would have displeased their parents, went, without urging, to bed. Wentworth Jones did not turn into his home, but he strolled on down the street to the corner saloon. It was the best-lighted 198 IMPROVEMENT ERA place in the village. Even the meetinghouse had not installed as many of the newly-obtained electric globes as had the saloon. There were perhaps ei-ln or ten young men in the saloon that evening. To all appearances they were an orderly lot. Some of them were playing pool, the others were looking on. Wentworth, as he stood for a moment looking in, saw no one drinking. But there they were, nevertheless, — Will, and George, and Tom, and Al, and Dick — all his boy friends, and all naturally good fellows. But this saloon which had come to town about a year ago was taking the boys away from other and better places. Many of them did not drink as yet, some of them did not even play pool, but it was nevertheless their loafing place; and environment, as Wentworth knew well, would in time have its effect. The young returned elder went on down the street, turned, repassed the sa- loon, then walked slowly homeward. He did not go to bed imme- diately, even though the evening was late. He sat on the porch in the big wicker chair far into the night, thinking, thinking. H • The meditations of Wentworth Jones, as he sat on the porch that evening, ranged from the home field to the mission field, from the daily work pressing him to his experiences in foreign lands, preaching the gospel. He had been home now nearly a month, and as yet he had not been able to shake off that other and peculiar home-longing for the mission field. And what a difference of con- ditions can come into a man's life within the short period of thirty days Six weeks ago he was "President Jones," and had twenty ! elders to direct in the mission field. There were nine branches in his conference to be properly officered and looked after. A large number of Church members and many investigators looked up to him as their leader and they went to him for advice. Mothers brought their problems in child-rearing to him, old men came to him for counsel. He preached two or three times each week, and frequently as many times each Sunday. He was stake president, bishop, teacher, business manager of the affairs of the Church in his conference — all rolled into one ; and he bore all these responsi- bilitiesgracefully and performed these important duties faithfully. And now again to the farm. How his back had ached the first week His hands were calloused, his skin tanned. For ten ! days he had hauled manure, protecting himself the best he could with high boots, old overalls and gloves. Then there was plough- ing and fall panting and looking after the stock. His father was getting old, and, as he was not well, most of the work had sud- denly fallen to Wentworth. Not that the young man ever ob- jected to work, not at all. He had spoken in meeting once since his return, and that, besides his Sunday School class, had been THE HOME FIELD 199 the extent of his religious activities in a public capacity. The bishop had told him the other day that they were thinking of putting him in as president of the Mutual as soon as the season opened. He- would have, or at least should have, enrolled the boys who frequented the saloon and the little fellows who tick-tacked Shoemaker Jacobson's window. He realized full well that here was a problem equally as difficult as any he had ever had in the foreign mission field. It was this problem which became the burden of Wentworth Jones' meditations not only that evening but days and evenings after that, until he had evolved a plan of action which he imme- diately set out to try. Opportunely he met the bishop of the ward on the street one day when his plans were well matured. "Bishop," said Wentworth, "I want you to let me have the use of the old meetinghouse." The bishop looked at the young man in wonder. "What in the world do you want the old meetinghouse for?" he asked. "Well, it's somewhat a secret, but I don't mind telling you that I want to try an experiment with the bunch of boys who spend their leisure time in the saloon." "Something ought to be done, sure," said the bishop, "but what use will the old house be ? The boys broke nearly all the windows, so we had to nail up boards. It's not an ornament to our main street, I'll admit." "You give me the key and full right to use the room." — "Why, yes, if it can be of any use but what? — "Never mind now. I promise you, bishop, I'll do my best with the boys in this town. You said I was to be the president of the Mutual next season and I want to try a little preliminary work, to sort o' get my hand in. Another thing I desire, Bishop I want ; you to trust me. If you think I'm not doing just the right thing, I want you to suspend judgment for a time. I can't say just how long but six months, anyway." The bishop promised, as a matter of course. The returned missionary could surely be trusted not to do anything rash or wicked and the boys needed looking after. All his sermons from ; the pulpit seemed to be of no avail. The young people were get- ting worse and worse, beyond the control of parents and all au- thority, both civil and religious. Let the young man try his scheme, and have the old meetinghouse, if he had any use for it. Wentworth walked along with the bishop to his home, the key was given him, and that same afternoon, he inspected the disused house. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling. There was litter in the cor- ners, but the floor was in a fairly sound condition. The boarded windows fitted in with his plan. The old stove could be set up 200 IMPROVEMENT ERA and used when the nights became uncomfortably cold. "Splen- did," said Wentworth, as he looked around. For the past three months Taborton had officially declared that each Saturday should be a half-holiday, but as there had been no concerted action on the part of those responsible for the move- ment to provide something to do for the boys thus set free from labor, the net results so far had been a larger attendance at the saloon and more tick-tacking and other devilment by the smaller boys. It was on a Friday evening that Wentworth Jones called on Will Smith, just as he was getting ready to go out for the evening. They went out of the gate together. "Say, Will," said Wentworth, "I want to show you some- thing." "Well, where?" "In the old meetinghouse. It's a sort of secret, you know." Will was willing. They went to the house, and Wentworth opened the door with the key. He struck a match and lighted a lamp hanging from the ceiling. The floor was swept and some benches were arranged around the walls. Wentworth opened a box in the corner and brought out two sets of boxing gloves. Will stared in wonder. "You see," said Wentworth, in explanation, "when in the mission field we elders used to take physical exercise, after a day of hard study. I had a pair of gloves, and when I was in the city the other day I bought another pair. Here, put them on and let's have a try." We haven't a room large enough at the house, and I got the bishop to let me use the old meetinghouse." "What, for boxing?" "I didn't tell him what for, Will —now, look out for your nose." They sparred, not very scientifically. They soon came to the rough and tumble stage and Will was making too much noise. "Not so loud, Will," admonished the other. "We don't want to draw a crowd." They went at it more quietly. "Say, this is great," remarked Will. "Fun, isn't it?" "Sure There, I landed you a good one." ! They sat down to rest. "Bring the bunch in tomorrow after- noon," suggested Went, "and let's see what they can do. We'll have to be careful, though and not make a rough house." The missionary looked carefully over his home field, decided he had made a good beginning with Will, so he made a definite ap- pointment with him to bring the "other fellows" along the next afternoon. They were all there. The meetinghouse stood well back from the street, so that a fairly jolly scuffle would not be heard by anyone passing. The young men took turns at the THE HOME FIELD 201 gloves, the others sitting around on the old benches greatly enjoy- ing the fun. Between the rests a number of them began wrest- ling. "Say, fellows," proposed Wentworth, "let's have some reg- ular wrestling stunts also. The floor's pretty hard, but I can get an old mattress and some of you can get others, and we'll rig up a dandy mat, and here's room for bars and rings." "What'll the bishop say?" Whereupon Wentworth Jones "took the floor" and made a confidential talk to the boys. He told them how he had got the bishop's permission to use the old meetinghouse, and that if the boys would help him he proposed to turn it into a dandy gym- nasium, where they could come Saturday afternoons when nothing else was going on, or on evenings for a jolly good time among themselves. When the cold weather set in, they would warm the room with the stove. There would, of necessity, be a little ex- pense which could be met by forming a simple organization and issuing admission cards. In this way undesirable characters could be kept out and order be maintained. What did the .fellows think of the scheme? Were there any suggestions? That was the beginning. Before a month had passed fifteen of the young men of the village were in the "Gym Association," and they were spending a good many evenings of the week in the old meetinghouse. The smaller boys, having learned of what was going on, pleaded to be admitted and the older of them were allowed to join on conditions of accepting some strictures ex- plained by Wentworth Jones, but which they readily accepted. Meanwhile the Mutual season began. Wentworth was president, but he said nothing to the big boys about their enrolling and at- tending the regular sessions, although most of them naturally fol- lowed their leader in this as well as in the athletic sports. The small boys, however, were organized into scout patrols, and turned over to the training of a scout master, and the "Gym" was used for many of their activities. There was now no time for tick-tacking or other street-corner mischief. In fact, the ceasing of all such "foolishness" as Wentworth called it, was one of the conditions he imposed on the small boys to retain membership with the big boys in the "Gym Association." One evening at the "Gym" Wentworth said "George, I : heard you singing at the Mutual the other night. I don't know whether you are aware of it or not, but you have a fine voice. — And you, too, Sid and a lot of you fellows can sing. What do you say to forming a glee club and doing some practicing right here — where the girls can't hear us? Mother said I may have that little old organ and we'll bring it over here. There's a lot of good music in it yet.' Given half a chance, and the proper encouragement, any boy 202 [MPRI >VEMENT ERA will try to sing.Here was the ideal spot for the backward boy. Under the lamp by the warm stove in the deserted meetinghouse, where they were by themselves, far away from critics, these young fellows opened their mouths and exercised their lungs; and W'entworth called it "line." I le selected the songs with care, songs that were easy, and that had vim in them. He taught them to sing the parts, and that was certainly interesting to them. And thus the hoys boxed and wrestled and did "stunts" on the horizontal bars and sang their songs. Everything went smoothly for six weeks before the first snag was encountered. Ill Little Sammy Johnson came home one afternoon with a bloody nose. He certainly looked a sight, with the gore of battle smeared over face and shirt. The mother was indignant. "What in the world are we coming to!" she exclaimed, as she peeled off the boy's waist and told him to wash his face in the ditch. "That's what you get from your 'Gym' lessons, as you call 'em." "It wasn't in the Gym." "Well, you learned it there. What were you fighting over?" "We wasn't fighting. Hen just hit a little too hard. He didn't mean to, he said." Just then the bishop came driving by. He had been away for a month on his dry-land farm, and was not familiar with the doings of his ward and people during that time. Mrs. Johnson would inform him. "Bishop," she called "you are just the man I want to see. Come here a minute, can you ?" The bishop stopped his horses, got slowly out of his wagon, tied the team and came to the gate where the mother and the boy were awaiting him. Sammy had gotten most of the blood from his face, but the mother waved the stained garment, as she said "It's a good thing, Bishop, you got home to put a stop to this foolishness that Wentworth Jones has got a going in the old meet- in' house. Here's a sample. He's teaching the boys to fight, and they're up to all kinds of capers. I've heard tell." — "What what is it?" asked the bishop. Whereupon Mrs. Johnson poured into the astonished bishop's ears a tale of terribleness about this "Gym business." The bishop listened patiently, indicating his attentiveness by, "Is that so?" "Well," "Hem!" during the woman's pauses. Then he drove on down towards his field. Just as he was in the act of letting down the bars to drive through, he saw Wentworth Jones coming along the road. He would ask him about what he had just heard THE HOME FIELD 203 "Well, Bishop," greeted the young man, "I'm glad to see you home again. How's the dry-farm?" — "Nicely, thanks, nicely but you're just the man I want to see. Sister Johnson has been telling me a startling story about you and your doings in the old meetinghouse. I hope it isn't true." "Well, of course, Bishop, I can't say what she has been telling you, but we have been doing something, sure enough." "Little Sammy came home with a bloody nose, and he was a sight." The two men leaned on the top rail of the fence as they con- versed. The bishop explained a little further about the bloody nose, so that Wentworth got the story straight. "I'm glad Sammy wasn't hurt," said the young man; "but, letme say, Bishop, it's better that Sammy should have a trifle of a bloody nose now than that his mother later should have a bleed- ing heart. Boys will be boys. They are full of life and activity, which is not to be repressed but to be directed. The boys in our town have had no one to direct them in their play." "Play," said the bishop. "When / was a boy there was no time to play. / had to work, and I think that's the best thing a boy !" can do ; but now it's play, play Wentworth knew the bishop's views on work and play. He did not want to antagonize him, for he wanted his assistance in the demonstration which he was making. "Sure, a boy ought to work," agreed Wentworth ; "but a boy will do something which he calls play, but which we often call dev- ilment." "That's true.'"' "A boy will work hard all day until you would think he is tired out ; but get a bunch of them together and an hour of day- light, and they'll play ball and run races until dark." "I've noticed that. It's the funniest thing — "It's just as natural for a child to play as for that calf out there in the pasture to kick up his heels. A child is close to nature, and to God, so we are taught. Christ himself set up a child as the example for older people to follow. I think the Master meant a natural child, not a wooden doll. I think we shall have to acknowl- edge that a child should play at something part of his time. As the child gets older and loses some of his innocent ways, he will do things that are not so good, if he is not directed. The trouble with the boys of this village is that they have been left to run wild too much, no one having taken them in hand and provided the proper activities for them. And that's what I have been trying to do in connection with the Mutual." The bishop had no ready reply to this little sermonizing. "It's this way," continued Wentworth :"The gospel is the power of God unto salvation, not only to the grown-ups, but to the 204 IMPRl >VEMENT F.RA young folks therefore, what will save the young from evil ways ; and manners is just as much the gospel as faith and baptism. Tsn't that true?" "Y-e-s," said the bishop. "You know that when you were on your mission you had to get at the people where they lived that is, you had to make ; your first appeal lo them on the subjects that interested them. So with the boys and girls. You can't drive them into the straight and narrow path. You must lead them, and the leading strings must not be made of material that chafes and makes sore. But I must be going. Come over and see our Gym tomorrow night; see just what we are doing, will you?" "Why, yes, I'll be glad to" said the bishop. IV. It was the "Gym" night in connection with the Mutual. It was not necessary as yet for the boys of Taborton to belong to the Mutual in order to have the privileges of the "Gym," but the Mutual officers had arranged their plans so nicely that much of what was done in the "Gym" had its origin in the regular Mutual meetings. The boys, therefore, attended Mutual to get "all that was coming," as one boy put it. Wentworth Jones had been busy all the afternoon getting ready for the bishop's visit. The scout master had gathered the boys after school and had put them through some of their drills for evening exhibition. The older boys were well prepared, as Wentworth had had the bishop's visit in view for some time. The young leader called the bishop up by telephone, early in the after- noon, and reminded him of his promise, at the same time urging him to bring his wife, as also his counselors and their wives in ; fact, "the more the merrier," he said. The bishop and quite a following came in good time. The good man looked curiously about the old meetingroom of pleasant memories, and rubbed his hands before the glowing fire in the stove before he took the seat of honor provided for him. The boys had even had the electric lights installed, and the room was very pleasant and comfortable. In a short time there was quite a gath- ering of boys, and Wentworth took charge. He made a little speech of welcome to the visitors, telling them that they were always welcome and that they would see for themselves what was being clone in the much-talked of "Gym." The boys sang their best selection and then they had to give another. Some "gymnastic stunts" were then given, much to the interest of all. The floor was cleared and a game of basketball was played. Wentworth introducing it by some explanations of the game. Before it was over, the bishop was shouting with the THE HOME FIELD 205 rest. Then, while the larger boys were resting, the scouts gave an exhibition of what they were learning in the way of knot tying, making camp, rescuing persons from drowning or from a burn- ing building. After this the scout master made a little speech, somewhat as follows "We are just beginning in this scout work for the boys. We want the bishop here, as well as all our good people to understand, that this is not merely another way of wasting our time. These boys are better boys now than they were six weeks ago, and six months from now, we assure you, they will be much better still. I mean better in all good things. I hold in my hand the official handbook for the scouts called 'Boy Scouts of America.' Every boy should have this book. It is full of good things. For in- stance, here is the scout promise which every boy must take before he becomes a scout. These boys are not scouts yet, in the true meaning of the word, but they are in training to become such. This is the promise : 'On my honor, I will do my best 1. : To do my duty to God and my country, and to obey the scout law 2. To ; help other people at all times 3. To keep myself physically strong, ; mentally awake, and morally straight. The scout law which the boys promise to observe is summarized as follows: '1. A scout is trustworthy. 2.A scout is loyal. 3. A scout is helpful. 4. A scout is friendly. 5. A scout is courteous. 6. A scout is kind. 7. A A A scout is obedient. 8. scout is cheerful. 9. scout is thrifty. " 10.A scout is brave. 11.A scout is clean. 12.A scout is reverent.' During this recital the boys were as quietly listening as the older people, which fact did not escape the bishop's observation. The little fellows always had been a trial to him, because of their disorder in meetings. "The scout is taught to take care of himself in every way," continued the scout master." This is what our text book says on tea, coffee, alcohol, and tobacco : 'Should a boy drink coffee or tea? This is a question often asked by boys. Coffee and tea are the greatest stimulants known. But does a strong boy need a stimulant? What is a stimulant and what does it do? A stimu- lant is a whip, making the body do more at a given time than it ordinarily would. It doesn't add any fiber to the tissues, doesn't add any strength, isn't a food, but merely gets more out of the tissues or nervous system than they would ordinarily yield. Of course, there is a reaction, because the tissues have had nothing to feed on. Herbert Fisher says that Peary's men, who drank lots of tea on their voyage north, during the most trying time of their trip showed it in their haggard faces and loss of tissue. Their own tissues had turned cannibal and fed on their own material. Stim- ulants are not foods. They add' no strength to the body. They exact of the body what ought not to be exacted of it. There is always a reaction, and one js always worse off as a result. Grow- 206 IMPROVEMENT ERA ing boys especially should have nothing- to do with tea, coffee, nor any other Stimulant. Alcohol is not a stimulant, but is really a nar- cotic that is very depressing. It dulls rather than stimulates. The same is true of nicotine in tobacco. No growing boy should use either. The first athletes to drop out of a race are usually drink- ers, and all trainers know that smoking is bad for the wind.' Bishop, how is that for a word of wisdom?" "And now, I had better explain to the Bishop our 'good turn daily.' A scout rule is that he should do some good deed, small though it may be, each day. Our boys are making a good beginning in this, which explains why Widow Benson's cow is driven to and from the pasture every day by one of our boys; why, while Brother Hansen was laid up with a broken leg, some — boys our scout boys. Bishop, supplied him with water and kind- ling. In short, our scout 'good turn daily' will explain many of the little good deeds which have lately been done to the mysti- fication of our good people." . The Bishop was quiet. "Three rah's for the Bishop," said the scout master. The boys gave them with a vim. "Now for the counselors," and three more were given. "Now we'll show how we bandage a wound and how we make a stretcher out of our coats." There was movement again after the few moments of quiet, but there was no unnecessary or unpleasant noise. The boys moved and stopped at given commands they were learning to ; obey, without complaint or whine, and what a blessing if that could be carried out in church, in school, and in the home ! The Bishop looked and listened and thought. He would have some- thing to say to his counselors, and to the people of the ward, after a while for this Bishop, though somewhat slow, was wise and ; shrewd in his old-fashioned way. As the evening entertainment was about to close, the Bishop motioned to Wentworth. "We haven't seen any exhibition of — of boxing," he said. "No," explained Wentworth "we are not doing any of that ; now. Boxing, when carried out properly, is good exercise but ; there are objections to it; and as we have now so many other, and, we think, better things to do, we have gotten out of the notion ourselves. However, we can show you. Boys, the Bishop would — like to see a little of the manly art of self defense all right, you. Tom and Jack, you're about the best, put on the gloves for a couple of rounds." And so they did. The Bishop enjoyed the sport, for the boys were good-natured about it and were not rough. "Here," shouted the Bishop, at the close of a warm round. "T can beat that — He was about to forget himself so far as to get into the ring THE HOME FIELD 207 himself, had not his wife pulled him down into his seat again with a warning, "Behave yourself." V The Taberton Mutual closed its season's work with a big field day inwhich the boys and girls, big and little, took part. The good people of the ward said it had been the most enjoyable day they had ever had. Everything was home made, even to some of the "stunts" which were pulled off, and which Wentworth Jones only, knew originated in the brain of the Bishop. What a new lease of life comes to gray-haired men and women when they take part in the games of the children In the evening of the clay, Wentworth Jones sat on the porch again, thinking, thinking. There was now no gloom in his medita- tions as there had been six months ago. As he looked back on his half-year's work among his own people in his own village, a sense of genuine satisfaction took possession of him. He had to acknowledge that he had accomplished more during the last six months in the home field than he had during the same length of time in the foreign mission field. This his native village, beauti- ful for situation, with the grandest mountains around it, clear skies, pure water, smiling fields, contained a host of young people. These people were strong and sturdy and beautiful somewhat; crude, no doubt, lacking the polish of older and larger communi- ties, but diamonds in the rough they were. And how these boys and girls had longed for an opportunity to give expression to the inborn need for social intercourse with each other ! The young men had recourse to the saloon, the little fellows to the street corners and their pranks the girls ; — well, there was the occa- sional dance, and that was about all for them. He knew girls too old, they said, to go to school, but who milked cows, washed dishes scrubbed floors and then went to bed and then got up next morn- ; ing to repeat the same thing, until some rascal of a man came and played havoc with them. The young people were not lacking in life, but it had been dormant, or repressed, or misdirected. Some- one was needed who understood, and with wise, firm hand would direct the activities of the young into the right channels — and there was some satisfaction in the thought that he, Wentworth Jones, had made a successful beginning in this great work. Someone shouted, "Hallo," from the sidewalk to Wentworth. It was Shorty Staler, just getting home. Shorty and his chums had taken an active part in the sports of the day. Only last sum- mer, they who had been so diligent in tick-tacking on Shoemaker Jacobson's windows, on learning of the old man's illness, as one of their "daily good turns," chopped him a big pile of wood. Wentworth stopped Shorty and told him that the last time he 208 IMI'ROVKMKNT ERA and the boys had been to the "Gym" they had left it untidy. Would they clean it up, properly? "Sure," said the boy, "tomor- row -we'll do it." This old meetinghouse "Gym," as Wentworth thought about it, had certainly been a help. From the singing had grown three male quartets, thin a double quartet and then later, when the ; qirls had been invited, a big mixed double quartet, which had given a concert. Then a dramatic society had been organized and they had put on two plays. Sometimes the "Gym" had been turned into a parlor, and social parties had been held. There had been a lot of fun, without any silliness, at these parties. Went- worth had even attempted a "literary evening" with a moderate degree of success. Perhaps the crowning event of the field day, just closed, was when the bishop had gotten up in the meeting and pro- posed that they build an amusement hall in connection with the new meetinghouse. How the crowd had clapped their approval Yes, the home field was all right. The clock within struck, which awoke him from his reverie and reminded him that it was time he was going for his partner to the dance so he walked slowly down the street towards her ; home. She was at the gate, waiting for him. She knew his desire to be on time, even to a dance. They stood for a moment by the gate. "Have you noticed what has happened to the saloon?" she asked. "No; what has happened?" "Can't you see that the corner is dark tonight?" He peered down the street where the bright saloon lights usually shone out into the street. "It's dark," said he. "Yes the saloon has closed quit business." ; ; "How do you know?" — "The Bishop went past a few minutes ago and told me, and she laid her hand on his arm and looked up into his face "and — he told me further that one Wentworth Jones was the chief cause of the saloon man's having to close up and move away. It's true the saloon man admitted it to the Bishop. my wrap, then we'll go." She ran up the path. —Just a minute till I get Was it the girl's touch, was it the look in her face, was it the news of the big victory over the saloon that made Wentworth Jones' heart sing for joy as he bowed his uncovered head and breathed a prayer of thanksgiving?