--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - J. M. Sjodahl collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 19 number: 9 published: 1916-07 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'J. M. Sjodahl, "Eight Dollars’ Worth," *Improvement Era* 19, no. 9 (July 1916): 786–794.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1909unse 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: improvementera1909unse start_page: 786 end_page: 794 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1916-07) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1909unse publication_year: 1916 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 1916, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Eight Dollars’ Worth The mercury had risen to the vicinity of the proverbial "ninety the shade" when Frederick West and Will Richards merged from the little, one-horse post cffice each bearing a readdressed letter in his hand. Smiles wreathed their hot, perspiring faces as they walked down the road impatiently tearing the ends from the envelopes. "It's a letter from home," Will said, as he glanced once more at the address. "Mother's writing, sure." "Mine, too, comes from home, but it isn't mother's writing," West replied, as he drew the neatly folded letter from its linen envelope. — They were elders of course, you guessed the moment the post office, the re-addressed letters, and the temperature, were men- tioned, — but then, I wished to make doubly sure that you knew these boys. That they were elders you would have guessed had you seen them, just as the aged postmaster did when he handed out those two tell-tale letters. The elders wore the regulation garb which was also an index to their occupation, but they wore that garb in such different ways that one might not have noticed that their clothing was at all alike. Frederick West was tall and slim and straight, and had a sort of thoroughbred atmosphere about him. He was good looking, as neat as a long walk on a hot day would permit the most fastidious to be, and wore glasses. He was young, city bred, and educated. His companion was almost his antonym in all these things, except that he, too, was young. — Will Richards was not city bred, was not educated in the book- sense, — was not good looking, and that "thoroughbreds" ever existed would not have been suggested by his gait. Somehow his clothes, though substantial, seemed to be out of joint somewhere. Besides, his derby hat was pushed back on his forehead in a manner that suggested maple-covered foothills and endless miles of sage-covered flats, open air, freedom. His hair was light, luxuriant, as it swept away from his tanned and somswhat freckled face in damp, glistening waves. His eyes were blue, and around them were tiny suggestions of myriads of laughing wrinkles which aided somewhat in redeeming the rather homely face. Fastidious EIGHT DOLLARS' WORTH 787 was not in Will's vocabulary, to the great mortification of his more careful companion. "Glory, glory," Will cried out, as he drew his letter from the envelope, "here's a real, live, full-blooded ten spot! Surely the ravens came in the hour of my extermity. Now I can have a pair of trousers and will not have to depend so much upon a bounteous coat tail for protection." He held the greenback up before the eyes of his companion. "Good for you," Frederick replied, as he glanced down at the well worn trousers of his friend. "I believe you do need a new pair rather badly." "It is from mother," Will replied, as he glanced up from the written page, an added glisten in his eyes. "She says she earned that money all herself by doing some washing for a gang of men who are surveying near home. It's almost like the water from Jacob's well. What ought a man not do for his mother!" He resumed his reading and the two walked slowly down the road, side by side, the Thoroughbred and — — what shall I say the Belgian. The sun was almost down when they drew near to their destination. The day had been extremely warm and they had walked far. The clang of the bells and the screech of the whistles in the railroad yards were plainly audible, although the muddy waters of the mighty Missouri rolled between them and the city. As they reached the stream they could see far out near the mid- dle of the railroad bridge a man sitting on the projecting ties. "I wonder if we can cross this bridge? There's a man wav out there. If he can, we can. It would save us nearly a mile's walk," Richards said, as he started out upon the bridge. "What if a train should come along while we are out in the middle?" West asked, pausing where the good old earth cease 1 to reach up through the ties. "Oh, we could lie down beside the rails and would not get hurt. Come on, let's cross it. What do you say?" "All right,' go ahead," his companion answered, "a mile looks big to me tonight." They started out, picking their way carefully over the ties, the muddy water far, far below surging and swirling underneath the bridge. "Ticklish job, this," Richards suggested as he glanced back at his companion who was exercising great care in his choice of steps. "I should say as much. I can feel a sort of dizziness now," West replied. "The water down there reminds me of a laugh- ing, gloating shark that is about to grab one. I'm glad these ties are so close together." As they approached the figure on the bridge they could see 788 IMPROVEMENT ERA that it was a man sitting dejectedly near its edge. As they drew closer they could see that he was ragged and dirty, a typical box- car tourist. He sat looking down at the waters as if fascinated. As they passed on their tedious journey he looked up for a mo- ment, his bleary, discouraged eyes deadened with dissipation. The two elders looked at him closely. He seemed so for- lorn, so low, so worthless, as he sat hunched over on the ties. However, there was something wistful, something sad in his face as he watched the vigorous, clean young men pass. Once he im- pulsively half extended his hand, then let it drop dejectedly at his side as he turned back to the river with a gesture of despair. When the elders had gone a short distance, Richards stopped and waited for his companion to catch up. "Poor kid," he said compassionately. "Looked awfully dis- couraged, didn't he?" "Oh, he's drunk. He'll soon be all right." "Yes, he's sure drunk. Poor kid.— Isn't over twenty, is he?" "I think not," West replied, as he took up his labored walk once more. "We'd better be getting across this bridge be- fore a train comes." "I wonder if we could help that fellow," Will said, as he stood looking back at the stranger. "I'm afraid he'll get run over if he stays there." "Never fear," the city man answered, "can't kill such as he; besides, I don't know that he would be missed much. Come along." "You can never tell how much he'd be missed. Why, he's only a kid, like each of us." He remembered the letter tucked away in his inside pocket with that precious ten-dollar bill, a feeble ex- pression of a mother's undying love, wrapped in it. "Maybe he has a mother and father somewhere who are missing him, right now. I'm going back and see if I can't get him off of this dan- gerous bridge," "Pshaw, he won't come he's a drunk. Don't be so senti- ; mental," West called back over his shoulder, never slacking his pace as he made for solid ground and safety. Richards walked back and gently touched the ragged man on the shoulder, "I beg pardon, sir," he said politely, "but you seem to be in trouble. Can I help you ?" It was a frank, boyish offer of good fellowship straight from a frank, boyish heart. "No," the other replied shortly and somewhat thickly. "It's rather dangerous to remain here. . A train might come along any moment and there is none too much room. Won't you come with me? I'll help you." The stranger turned and looked at the young westerner for a moment in sodden surprise. Richards was more determined than : EIGHT DOLLARS' WORTH 789 ever to get the fellow safely off from the bridge, for he could see that he was younger than he at first thought, not over eighteen and there was something about the lad that distinguished him from the ordinary tramp. He was not by birth a "low brow" at any rate. As he looked into the somewhat bloated face of the young- ster the tears began to trickle down the grimy cheeks. "Go wan," the forlorn one commanded in a tear-choked, drunken voice, "I don't need no help." "But you might get run over by the train, or you might fall off the bridge." "What if I should ?" the other replied sullenly, as he resumed his original attitude."Nobody'd care, not even me." "Oh, yes, somebody would care," Richard replied coaxingly. hoping to touch the liquor-soaked brain in some way. "Your mother, too, what of her? Don't you think she'd care? She's probably wondering where you are right now." At the mention of his mother the lad leaned his head against his ragged arm as his body shook with sobs. That's why I'm out here," he replied, brok- "That's just it. enly, "I'm not fit to be wondered about look at me." ; He turned and faced the young elder. "Look at me," he reiterated, "what mother would want me? I'm a disgrace to her and to myself. I came out here to end it all. I was just ready to jump off when you came along so I waited until you passed. Now, go on and leave me. You see danger is what I'm looking for." "You have a mother, then?" Richards asked, catching at the one thing that might succeed in winning this lost sheep away from himself. "Where does she live?" "She lives up north." "Why not go back to her ?" pleadingly. "Like this? No. I love my mother, stranger; my, but she's been good to me all my life. She used to be proud of me, too, before I came to this accursed city. No, I couldn't go back like this," he added brokenly, "it would break her heart." "But suppose, friend, you carry out your intentions. What of your dear, old mother then? If they find your body and she hears of your awful death, do you think she will be pleased? Her son a suicide! The boy whom she had loved and nurtured for so many years, a coward, a disgrace! And if they do not find you, think of the heart aches, the sorrow of all those coming years while she is waiting for your return, wondering where you can be, and why you have neglected her so. Surely von could not be so cruel." "What can I do? I can't go back like this, I cannot remain in this accursed place." "Where is your home?" 790 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Way up in Minnesota, — St. Paul, Minnesota." "You come with me, I have a little money. You go home to your mother." "I can't. I could not disgrace her so. She would be ashamed of me." "You're mistaken. Your mother would welcome you with out-stretched arms. There is no depth so low that cannot be reached by a mother's love. Come on." He gently took the lad by the arm and half led him along the bridge. When they reached the shore, they found Elder West waiting for them. West looked at the ragged lad in illconcealed disgust, then he turned to his companion, a look of inquiry in his dark eyes. "I'm going with this boy to the station to see him off. He's going home," Richards said, answering the other's look. "Well, I'll meet you at the palace, then," West replied, as he started to walk away, "I don't believe it is necessary for me to see your friend off." Richards attempted to cheer his companion as they walked along in the direction of the station. The lad was dejected, al- together miserable, and sick. But what was worse he could not but see the look of pain in his mother's eyes when she should see hi"- condition. His self-respect was almost nil. As they entered the business section of the city, Richards said, "Now, we'll find a restaurant, clean up a bit and have a good dinner, after which we'll go to the station and get your ticket." It was dark when the two entered the union station. The strange lad was almost a new creature. His face was clean, his clotheswere brushed, and his eyes, though somewhat bloodshot, were steady and almost clear. Richards stepped up to the agent's office and asked for a ticket to St. Paul, Minnesota." "How much?" he asked, as the agent stamped the ticket. "Eight dollars." Richards handed over the change. "Here you are," he said as he gave the stranger the ticket. "This will take you home." The lad grasped the elder's hand warmly, "God bless you," he said, huskily, "I never can thank you for what you have done for me. I hope we shall meet again." "I hope so," Richards answered. "Kiss your mother for me. You be good to her. Here's the train." "Good-bye," the stranger said earnestly, as he shook his bene- factor's hand once more. "Good-bye," Richards called, as the lad entered the train. When the last car was lost in the darkness and only the red EIGHT DOLLARS' WORTH 791 signal lights looked back at him, the elder turned to seek his com- panion. It was nearly ten o'clock when he found the rooming house where they were to meet. Elder West was sitting by the dresser writing when he entered. He looked up from his paper with a smile on his face. "Well, Elder Richards, what did your experience cost you?" lie asked, sarcastically. "About eight dollars," Will answered. "Expensive, wasn't it? I'm surprised that you would allow yourself to be caught by a tramp in that fashion." "He wasn't an ordinary tramp. W'y he was only a kid, and I felt sorry for him." "Do you think you got your eight dollars' worth of satis- faction? What about those new trousers now?" "Can't have them," Will replied ruefully, "I'll have to have a tailor fix these up tomorrow. I suppose he'll have a pair I can slip on while he does it." "Willie, you're a lamb," his companion bantered. "That was a. nice little fleece that our friend of the box-car relieved you of. I think I'll go to bed." Richards opened his grip and took out his writing material, and before retiring wrote a letter to his mother. "Dear Mother I received that long, precious greenback today, : also the sweet letter that came with it. Do you know, mother dear, a letter from you is better than a full meal to me. I devour it bodily — -Oh, not the paper and ink, you know, just the tender words. Don't you know, when I read of how you obtained that greenback I just — couldn't see the page for a moment you're such a dear, dear mother I thought of David of old when his friends brought him his long desired water at such a great risk, such toil and sacrifice on their part, and I almost felt as David did. The money was not really ten dol- lars — it was far more precious. It was the outward expression of a great love. "I suppose you'll think me very foolish when I tell you that I gave nearly all of it away, but I hope you won't think me ungrateful or unappreciative, I saw a young fellow on a railroad bridge. He looked so forlorn, so dejected, and discouraged that I got him to go to the station with me, and I bought him a ticket and sent him home to his mother. The ticket cost eight dollars. My companion asked me if I got my money's worth. What do you think? "I needed a pair of trousers rather badly, but I couldn't bear the thought of spending that money on such ordinary things as trousers, anyway. I'll have my old ones mended; they'll last me a long time yet. "I hope you'll understand, mother dear, good-night. "Your loving son, "Will." Three months' later Elder Richards was transferred to a con- ference away up in Minnesota. He was growing in faith and 792 IMPROVEMENT ERA power day by day. His great heart and his earnest desire to help all humanity had made him one of the best elders in the field. The bigness of his own dear mountains was in his soul. One night he and his new companion selected a favorable corner in St. Paul and held a rousing street meeting. Nearly four hundred people assembled and listened respectfully to the words of truth that fell from the young elder's lips. Elder Richards spoke last. His earnestness and his natural eloquence touched the hearts of those who listened. After the dismissal of the meeting several men gathered around the elders and shook them cordially by the hands. Elder Richards was pre- paring to leave the corner when a well dressed young fellow elbowed his way through the crowd and seized his hand. "Oh, I'm glad to see you!" he exclaimed heartily, his face working with emotion. "I've been praying that you would come here." "Young man, I'm glad to meet you," Richards replied, "but really you have the advantage of me. I think we have never met before." "Oh, yes, we have," the other answered, smiling. "Don't you remember meeting a ragged tramp on a bridge spanning the Missouri?" "Yes, I do remember such an incident." "I am that man. You come with me. My old mother has been praying that some day she might meet you face to face. I told her all, you see. I have never taken a drop of liquor since that day. Come on, there's a welcome waiting for you out home such as you have not had for years." "Isn't it too late to go out tonight?" Richards asked as he looked at his watch. "It's nearly nine, you see." "Not at all, not at all," the other cried, heartily. "It can not be too late nor too early. Come on, and you and your companion may stay with us all night." It was nearly ten o'clock when the trio alighted from a car out in the suburbs. The young stranger led them to a neat little house standing a short distance back from the street. Vines twined around the window, and from the side of the path came the faint, sweet perfume of roses. "Mother's flowers," Richards mentally asserted, as he passed up the walk to the door. The stranger flung the door open and cried, "Mother, here he is at last!" Richards stepped in to meet a sweet-faced, gray-haired lady who rose from her rocking chair to greet him. "My son," she cried, in a tender voice as she reached her hands out to the embarrassed westerner. "Welcome home, my son r : : — EIGHT DOLLARS' WORTH 793 A mist came before the elder's eyes, and he seemed to see rot a stranger but the well loved form of his own mother before him. Impulsively he reached out and took the old lady in his arms. "Mother," he whispered, as he touched the gray head upon his breast reverently with his lips. Somehow the sarcastic question asked by the fastidious Elder West seemed to ring in his ears, as he stood there "Do you : think you got your eights dollars' worth of satisfaction?" He looked down at the happy, tear-stained face of the old lady who had released herself from his arms, and then over to the straight, handsome, clean, young man who was standing near. "Yes, a thousand fold !" he murmured to himself. "Ay, a thousand fold!" PRESTON, IDAHO Effects of the War upon the English People BY ELDER J. M. SJODAHL Among the leaders in the religious world there is at present some discussion concerning the probable effects of the war upon the views of the people. Many are becoming discouraged with the sectarian churches. A young English clergyman is said to have left the Presbyterian church, because he has become con- vinced that its teachings are impractical and, therefore, useless. He is quoted as follows "This world order in which war is inherent, the church exists to transform. Consequently when the church ranges itself in support of the method of war it is not only proclaiming its own failure, but it is hauling down its own flag and hoisting instead the flag of the world. It is giving its case away and 'queering its own pitch.' Christian leaders who have given their blessing to this war will be hard put to it at the close of the war to meet the arguments of the militarists. They have in this instance sub- scribed to the doctrine of force, and it will be used in evidence against them." It is claimed that four thousand young men and women in England have severed their connection with churches on account of the war, and have formed an organization of their own, called the Fellowship of Reconciliation. One of the leaders in this movement says ! 794 IMPROVEMENT ERA "What we desire is that the church may take her rightful place when the war is over, and may at last proclaim a living message with prophetic power, a message which shall direct the minds of men to those great truths in obedience to which the health of the nations is to be found. What they fear is that she may lose her chance of proclaiming that message then, because now she has not spoken with the note of reality and conviction, and because she has not dared to face the full meaning of the problem involved in this war." This sentiment is growing. Honest men and women are becoming convinced of the total failure of the churches to bring salvation to the world. They are beginning to realize that it is tiue that the churches have gone astray, though they, probably, would again crucify the prophet Joseph for saying it. We have had some talk in newspapers and magazines about the "sobering" influence of the war, and how it has driven people "to God." They have told us about prayer meetings and the distri- bution of Bibles, etc., but it is now apparent fervor has cooled. Re- pentance at the muzzle of a gun has proved as fleeting as a sum- mer cloud. A German scientist has recently said that the war had settled one thing forever, namely, the absurdity of talking about "the goodness and fatherly nature of God." Such are some of the views and sentiments inspired by this terrible conflict. Such are some of the straws indicating the direction of the wind. The Spirit of the Lord is certainly striving with the nations and causing thinking men and women everywhere to see the absurdity of building upon a foundation of sham and hypocrisy, such as that on which the churches of the world de- pend for their very existence. But the foolishness of questioning God's goodness, because man in his rebellion has brought disaster upon himself Would to God that the people of the world would embrace the gospel. That would cure all ills, and bring peace among nations, peace in industrial circles, peace in the family, and peace in the heart. LIVERPOOL, ENGLAND,