Jim’s Oration: Prize Story

Jim's Oration The Improvement Era Prize Story, March Contest

BY ELSIE CHAMBERLAIN CARROLL

Jim Welker had not been to Mutual since his father's sensa- tionalwithdrawal from the Church more than two months ago, and he felt curious eyes turned upon him as he entered the door. He had come tonight to please his mother, but he had not known how much courage it would require to walk up that aisle be- tween the rows of familiar faces, once his friends, but now, to his imagination at least, only critical, curious spectators of the strug- gle going on within his soul. All the seats near the door were occupied, so he threw his head back in an attempt to assume an attitude he was far from feeling, and tried not to see any one as he marched toward the front. But by some strange power beyond his control he found himself looking into the face of Lucy Hales, and he had hoped above all that Lucy would not be there. She was sitting by Dan Clinger who nudged her and whispered something as Jim passed. Jim had seen it all from the corner of his eye and he felt the blood rush to his temples. He had also caught Lucy's smile as their eyes met, but he read in it only pity in- stead of the old time comradeship. It was so like Lucy to give him pity instead of the scorn every one else would give. But even Lucy could not be expected to have anything more than pity for the son of an apostate. Such was the thought that fleeted through Jim's tortured brain as he passed up the aisle and miserably took his seat on an unoccupied bench near the front. The president saw him and came forward with hand extended in welcome, but somehow this unusual attention only made the boy feel all the more like an alien. Soon Dick Savage and Karl Denning came in and sat on the other end of the bench. Three months ago the boys had all belonged to the same bunch, but now Jim kept his head turned obstinately away and he felt, rather than saw, that the other boys were talking about him. Presently the meeting commenced. The opening song was, "School Thy Feelings, O My Brother," and poor Jim felt that the hymn had been chosen especially for his benefit. When the members separated from class work, Jim marched quickly down

*This story won the $25 prize for March, in the Improvement Era contest, ending lune, 1915.

stairs and took his scat in the farthest corner of the room. The class leader took his place before them. "We must decide tonight, boys, who will represent the class in the oratorical tryont for our ward. It comes off two weeks from last Sunday evening. Wewant four contestants. Come now, let us have some volunteers." lie waited for a response. Hut the hoys sat whispering and laughing a little, each one- urging his neighbor to "go at it." "Well, if you will not volunteer I shall have to appoint some of you," the teacher said at last. "We shall ask the following to represent the class Harold :

— Hoover, Karl Denning, Dan Clinger" and his eye suddenly rested — on Jim "and James Welker." You will find a suggestive list of subjects in the April Era and I shall be glad to be of assistance if you need me. Are there any questions?" Again Jim felt like every eye in the room was upon him. lie was about to decline when Dan's hand shot up. "Must the subjects all be on the gospel?" he asked as he looked with open meaning at Jim. Some of the fellows near Dan snickered, and Jim was conscious of angry resentment taking the place of his bitterness and shame. He never had liked Dan Clinger, and especially since that humiliating evening two months before when his own father had openly, in ward conference, de- nounced the Church. Jim felt that if he lived to be as old as Methuselah that evening would always stand out as the most vivid thing in his memory. There had been the terrible, tragic moment when the son, with the rest of the audience, had first realized what the man had done. Then the tense, breathless silence, followed by a subdued, though excited hum of whispered comments. Through it all Jim had sat beside Lucy Hales. He at first had been only conscious of shame and remorse for his father. Then a look into Lucy's white, stricken face had suddenly made him realize that the sins of the fathers rest also upon the children, and he felt that he himself had suddenly been drawn from the circle of the Church by this act of his father's, and made a miserable outcast. The meeting had closed and he had walked out behind Lucy in a sort of daze. Neither of them had spoken a word. It was Dan Clinger who had called out, as they reached the sidewalk : "An apostate's son and a bishop's daughter." Jim's hand had clenched hard, but he had kept back the hot retort that sprang to his lips. He remem- bered that Lucy's hand had trembled on his arm and he had thought that her humiliation must be even deeper than his own. He had felt glad for the first time in his life that her home was so near. A few more of those long, throbbing, silent seconds and they stood a4 her gate.

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"Good night," he said in a voice that sounded strangely un- familiar. "Good night," Lucy had responded in a whisper that was a unsteady. He had turned and started dowa the street. little "Oh, Jim !" Lucy had called, and there was a catch in her voice. He had gone back to where she stood at the gate. The moonlight shone on her face and revealed the tears glistening in her eyes. She tried to speak but something seemed to choke her, so she held out her hand. Jim thought he understood. She wanted to tell him not to come any more. He took her hand and whis- pered hoarsely, "Good bye, Lucy," and hurried away. The next morning he had gone to his uncle's ranch up in Provo canyon and had not been back until today. And this, and the struggling hours he had spent in the mean- time, came before him like a flashing panorama now. Suddenly, out of his resentment against Dan's open antagonism came the thought, "I'm as good as he is if my father is an apostate. I would not stoop to as mean a thing as he is doing now," and Jim de- cided that he would not decline. He would win over Dan Clinger, or make a mighty effort in the attempt. The class leader. had answered Dan's question a little sharply, for he evidently saw its intent :"Of course the subject does not need to be on the gospel. Any good, moral, inspiring subject will do." And he began on the regular work for the evening. When the class work was over and the members reassembled for dismissal, Jim found a seat near the door. Karl and Harold came in behind him and tried to include him in a whispered dis- cussion of good subjects for orations. He knew that they were trying to let him know that they were still his friends and he felt grateful, but he had built up such a wall in his imagination be- tween himself and his old associates that he did not know how to break through it now. He made a weak attempt to meet their ad- vance but felt that he had failed and was almost as wretched as when he first entered the meeting. As soon as the benediction was through he hurried out. Be- fore he had gone a block he heard a crowd of boys behind him. As they passed, Dan Clinger sang out, "Got your subject yet, Jim? P>etter take, 'Honor Thy Father.' " The hurt of this taunt was soothed a little with the thought that at any rate Dan was not walking home with Lucy Hales as Jim had supposed. When he reached home he found his mother waiting for him. Her quick, loving eyes read his face. She knew something of the struggle going on within the boy's soul, but she was afraid to try to help him. She would not have him lose his natural respect and love for the father who had always been his unquestioned ideal until that night two months before, and yet she wanted above all

that he should remain true to the faith which had led both his grandfathers across a trackless plain. "Well, son, did you have a good Mutual?" she asked pleas- antly. "O, it was all right." Then after a pause, "They want me to give an oration in the tryout for our ward." Jim saw the light that leaped into his mother's face and he was glad he had not declined. "I am very glad," she said quietly. "Did they assign you a subject?" "No," and Jim smiled grimly as he recalled Dan's taunting suggestion. He would not tell his mother about that she had ;

enough to bear already. — "I'm so glad," she repeated again thoughtfully. "I've been dreadfully worried about you since father " She did not finish the sentence. Her voice choked, but she brushed aside the tears and went on calmly, "You must not pass judgment upon father, James, no matter how wrong we both know he is. You are too young to under- stand just what influences and pressures were brought to bear against him. He was not himself that night nor for a long time before. I have good reasons to believe he is more sorry than we can know now, for what he did, and my hope is in you, James, to bring him back. No," she went on musingly, "father was not himself. He was trying to be an imitation of someone else, and now after what had happened he still lacks the courage to be his true self and right the wrong impression he has given out. We all suffer. for it, but we must try to have the courage to be our true selves no matter what we suffer and what people may think or say. That is why I'm so glad you went to meeting to- night, and glad again that you are going to take part as you have always done. You had to break the ice tonight. It was hard, I know, but you have done nothing unworthy and should not permit yourself to feel like an outcast, and I have hopes that through you we can bring father back to the Church." This was the first time Mrs. Welker had discussed their trouble with her son and they both felt better for the confidence. Soon they fell to discussing suitable subjects for the oration and before Jim went to bed he had decided to take "The Habit of Success" and with his mother's help he had gone through the library hunting material. He made out a brief outline, then bade his mother good night and went to his room, happier than he had been for many days. After he had gone to bed he lay thinking of his father as he had done every night during the past weeks. He thought he knew the influences to which his mother had referred. A brilliant mis- sionary companion of his father's, a man high up in authority in

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the Church, had apostatized a short time before, and had written a number of sensational magazine articles against the Church. Jim had known how wrought up his father had been at the time, for the apostate had always been looked upon as a sort of oracle by Mr. Welker. Then had followed a long correspondence be- tween the two men, and Jim could see it was as his mother had said, father had tried to be an imitation of the other man and not himself. The boy fell to thinking along this line. It did take courage to be one's self in a little thing that came along every day. He had lacked that courage himself and had been a miserable coward since his father's mistake, afraid of the boys and of criti- cism in general. A new resolve came to him. No matter what it cost he would try to be his own natural best self in the future. He would not shun the boys. He would even be friendly with Lucy, though of course that was all he dared hope ever to be now, for she was the bishop's daughter and they might well sup- pose he would follow in the footsteps of his father. He would have to prove himself, and maybe, as mother had said, they could win father back. It was with thoughts like these that at last Jim fell asleep. More than a week had passed and Jim had his oration well under way. He felt well satisfied with the result of his effort. It was Friday afternoon and as Jim had no pressing work, he took his speech and went on Temple Hill to practice it. As he turned the corner of 6th East and 8th North he met Dan Clinger. "Hello, Jim. Got your oration?" Jim could not help notic- ing the unusual friendliness in Dan's manner. "Just about," he answered, looking at the manuscript in his hand. "Have you?" "No, I never can do anything until the last minute," and Dan passed on, while Jim turned into the trail at the foot of the hill. He went directly to the grove north and east of the campus. Here he felt absolutely free and in no danger of being disturbed, so began at once to practice. He went through it several times, feeling more satisfied with each rehearsal. At last he put his paper into his pocket and practiced it once more for good measure, then home, deciding to go through the fields east of the grove started and down past the old gravel bed where he had had so much fun when a youngster. As he jumped over the fence which separated the grove from the first field, he was surprised to see Dan Clinger rise up out of the tallgrass along the head ditch. Dan looked confused, but called out with his characteristic carelessness. "You haven't seen my cow around her have you?" Then before Jim could answer he continued, pointing at the place from which he had just emerged.

674 IMPROVEMENT KRA "The queerest little animal you ever saw just ran in a hole right there.I was trying to dig him out but couldn't find him. Wonder what it could he." "There arc lots of gophers in these fields," Jim replied. "O, that was no gopher," protested Dan, then added hastily, "Well, I've got to find that cow. Johnny let her get away when he was taking her to the pasture this morning," and he leaped a knee and disappeared on the other side of the hill. Jim walked on, somewhat irritated at the possibility of Dan's hiving- heard him practicing. Sunday afternoon Mr. Welkcr came home. His business kept him away a good deal. Jim had not seen him since that night two months ago, and he was filled with surprise and pity at the man's haggard face. There was no doubt that his father was suffering for the rash step he had taken. Each member of the family was conscious of a painful constraint. The father was unusually quiet while Mrs. Welker made a visible effort to keep the tension clown and make the atmosphere of the home what it had always been before. When evening came and Jim was getting ready for joint meeting, Mrs. Welker turned to her husband and said, "James is in the oratorical contest tonight. Why don't you go and hear him ?" Mr. Welker gave her one long, surprised look, which made her add in confusion, "Or would you rather

tay with the baby and let me go?" "I've got to see Beesley," the man replied a little sullenly, taking his hat and starting toward the door. He stopped and turned to Jim. "What is your subject?" he asked, his voice betraying the emotion he was trying to conceal. Jim told him, and he took another step toward the door, then after a moment's hesitation he turned back and said, "You had better go through it for your mother and me. It will be good practice." When Jim had finished he said simply, "That's pretty good. I hope you win," and left the house. "I wish you could go," the boy said to his mother, his heart going out to her because he had seen her futile effort to get his father to attend. His resolve to help her strengthened. He did not know just how he could do it but he would try, and he breathed silently" "O God. show me how to help bring father back." He did not know how soon, or strangely that prayer was to be an- swered. He hurried to the meetinghouse. It was filled with people. The Mutual contests had become very popular, and no doubt the fact that Jim was to be one of the contestants had added not a few to the numbers there. The other contestants were all pres-

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ent, and when Jim joined them Karl and Harold both looked up with a greeting, but Dan sat poring over a book and pretended not to see him. "Well, I guess we are ready, boys," said the president, com- ing from a consultation with the judges. "James, the boys drew for places before you came in, and you got last." The meeting commenced. Harold Hoover was the first or- ator. His subject was "Loyalty" and was handled in an inter- esting way. Karl was the next. He had chosen, "What is Means to Put Your Name on the Mutual Roll." His material was good, but he lacked preparation. Next, Dan was called. He seemed a little confused as he arose, but by the time he had reached the stand he had regained his usual bold 'assurance. He announced that his subject was "Success." Jim looked up in surprise. He had understood that Dan's subject was "The Value of Spare Moments." His surprise grew as the orator went on with his introduction. It was almost word for word like his own. Jim leaned forward in breathless excite- ment while Dan proceeded in a clear, confident way, his dark, handsome eyes looking over the audience with convincing earnest- ness. Sentence after sentence came familiarly to Jim's ears, and soon he "leaned back with a smothered groan, crushed with the hitter realization that Dan had stolen his speech. This explained his presence on Temple Hill that day. How could even Dan have stooped to such a thing? Of course, he had felt confident that Jim would not expose him and that he would win the contest with his rival's own speech. Jim closed his eyes in utter misery. Then suddenly came the thought that in less than ten minutes his own name would be called. What could he do? Give the same speech or make some excuse and remain out of the contest. The latter seemed the only possiblity. And yet he rebelled at the thought of giving up to this boy who was so openly his antagonist. Nothing would suit Dan better than his withdrawal. If there were .

only some way to win, even now. Of course he might explain, but he recoiled from the thought. Besides, would they believe him against Dan? He — was an apostate's son. O, the torture of the seconds that seemed to press down upon him. The audience was very still. Dan's speech was making a pro- found impression. And poor Jim had wanted so much to win, to redeem himself from his father's mistake. If only he could take some other subject and win yet. The thought flashed wildly through his brain. But his mind seemed like a blank. He thought of inspiration. But with that thought came the memory of those burning words of his father on that terrible night: "The gospel Reaches us to be a lot of ignorant, blind fools when it has us con- ceive of a God who is going to listen to the individual prayers of

a hundred million people at the same time and minutely direct a hundred million acts that are unimportant to anyone except the petty individual who prays for such guidance." If only God would hear and inspire him now, it would be a testimony against his father's denial. "O, God," he pleaded in his soul, "inspire me! Put some- thing in my mind to say !" Then he sat very still and waited. It came like a flash! "The Courage to be One's Self." He grew suddenly calm. His mind had never seemed so clear. He remembered all those things he had thought of that night after his mother had said those words. He began to formulate an outline, an introduction, a body, and a conclusion. He glanced at the clock. Three minutes remained. He would try. He might not win, but God had answered his prayer and he would do the best he could. He thought no more of Dan and his treachery. He for- got the audience, and in those few remaining moments he centered all the forces of his mind upon that one subject, "The Courage to be One'sSelf." Soon Dan took his seat and Jim's number was called. He took his place experiencing a feeling he had never known before. It was as if he had reached out to the Father in his weakness and the Father had taken him by the hand to help him over this diffi- culty, just as his earthly father had often, when he was a little fel- low, taken his hand to help him over a hard place in the path. Jim faced the audience. Nearly a thousand pairs of eyes were raised expectantly to him. For one brief moment he was almost overwhelmed with the thought that he was standing there without preparation. Then he felt the reassurance of the Father's hand again. "The Courage to be One's Self," he announced and there was not a waver in his voice. "Every day we see examples of great courage. Sometimes it is physical, more often it is moral courage. We hear stories that thrill us with inspiration. It may be of the soldier who faces the cannon's mouth for his country it may be of the fireman risk- ;

ing his life for his fellowmen or of the mother rushing into the ;

jaws of death to save her child. On every hand we find great cries being met by men and women of matchless courage. "We may not all be called upon to exhibit the courage re- quired for some particular crisis, but we are in need, every day. of a courage just as essential in the world, the -courage to be our selves. Did you ever stop to consider how many lives are lived in quotation marks?" . The boy was growing more and more filled with his subject. Unexpected analogies and illustrations crowded his mind. He saw interest in the faces before him and this gave him added inspira- tion.

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He told them how the lack of this courage was shown in the matter of dress, in the way homes were furnished, and in the man- ner of living in the homes. He said that many a girl had started on the downward road simply because she lacked this courage to be herself and sold her most priceless possession that she might wear gowns and jewels like someone else. He said that many wives sent their husbands to bankruptcy because they must live and dress as some envied neighbor did, and that scores of boys had been enticed into saloons and gambling halls because they lacked this courage, while their fathers accepted bribes and grafts because they wanted to make the same show that their friends made, and lacked the courage to stand by their own manhood. And so Jim continued without a pause or break, his face glowing, his voice vibrating with earnest conviction. Dan Clinger was listening in utter amazement. The boy then gave inspiring examples of men and women who had not lacked this courage, and so had given their very best individual selves to the world. He drew from the lives of Tolstoi, of the Pilgrim fathers, of Joseph Smith and of Christ. Then he began a strong plea for each one to make the most of the indi- viduality God had given him and not submerge its possibilities into a weak imitation of some one else. A movement near the door revealed the face of his father. For a second he wavered, then went on with more strength than before. He reached a brilliant climax, holding the audience spellbound. The eyes of his father were upon him until the end and Jim felt a strange new bond be- tween them. When he was through there was a tense silence in the room which reminded him of that other meeting. He went mechanically to his seat. Suddenly he felt timid. He could not remember what he had been saying and thought with humiliation that he must have made a wretched spectacle of himself. After the first silence there was a sound of whispered comments. He looked toward the door, but his father was gone. The president asked the judges to confer. Someone gave an instrumental piece, then the judges came forward and there was silence again. "The orations were exceptionally good," the chairman, com- menced, "and we wish to commend them all. We are unanimous, however, in awarding first place to the last orator." Jim seemed more dazed than ever. Surelv he had not heard aright. But Harold and Karl who were sitting on either side of him extended, ungrudgingly, their congratulations. The president made a few remarks and the meeting was dismissed. In a moment Jim was surrounded by groups of his old friends. A warm glow crept over him. The bishop pressed his hand and gave him some pleasant words of encouragement. And Jim saw Lucy standing behind her father waiting to speak to him. Her

hand trembled as he took it, and he read something in her eyes he had never hoped to see there again. It gave him courage to keep hy her side as they were pushed along with the crowd toward the door, and take her arm when they had reached the outer steps. Jim felt a touch on his arm. He turned, and the electric light revealed the remorseful face of Dan Ginger. "May I speak to you just a moment, Jim?" Jim excused himself to Lucy and stepped aside with Dan, who seized his hand and whispered brok- enly, —— "No one but you knows what a dog I've been. I I can't — ask you to forgive me, but it would kill mother if she knew." "O, don't worry about that, Dan," said Jim filled with pity at the other's remorse. "No one shall ever know from me." "I can't thank you nor tell you how ashamed and sorry I am, and I won't ask you even to believe I'm going to be a man until I've proved it —but I'll do it." Jim pressed Dan's hand and hur- ried back to Lucy. "You were splendid," she said proudly, then when they had reached her gate she invited him to come inside. "Maybe I can tell you tonight the things I wanted so much to say the last time you were here and could not," she said, with a slight pressure on his arm, which revealed her sympathetic understanding. When Jim left Lucy an hour later he did not think anything could add to his happiness, but he was very much mistaken. As he entered his own gate he was surprised to find his father waiting for him there. Mr. Welker took his son's hand and held it as they walked up the path in silence. When they reached the porch the father said, "Tell me how you did it, son?" "I prayed, father," Jim answered simply, looking into his father's face. "And you were not alone," the response came low and full of feeling. "Father?" There was mingled doubt and hope in the boy's tone. "Yes, son, I prayed with you, and both our prayers were answered. Yours in the inspiration' that gave you your subject, mine in its message which revealed myself to me. You were right, my boy. We cannot successfully be an imitation of someone else. Sometimes when we try, we see hell in a way we have not expected. You've helped me find the courage to undo the wrong I've done." And the next Sunday in fast meeting, Jim sat proudly thrilled as he listened to the most powerful testimony he had ever — heard from the lips of his father.