--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Nelson, N. L. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 21 number: 1 published: 1917-11 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'N. L. Nelson, "Amateur Short Stories," *Improvement Era* 21, no. 1 (November 1917): 55–59.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2101unse 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: improvementera2101unse start_page: 55 end_page: 59 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1917-11) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2101unse publication_year: 1917 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 1917, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Amateur Short Stories — Amateur Short Stories* I —Porridge and Paul's Advice; II—The Advent of Fritz / Porridge and PauVs Advice The two elders hesitated before a primitive log cabin at the foot of a Virginia hillside clearing. "Shall we take the plunge?" asked the younger, stopping to brush the dust of a long day's travel off his trousers and shoes. "Why not?" asked the other. "My stomach has reached a mood where it refuses to draw the color line." "I could eat a horse, saddle and all," replied his more fas- tidious companion. "But a nigger's cooking! I think it would take another day of fasting to make me relish it." The two young men had struck one of those hard, uncom- promising, bigoted neighborhoods, occasionally met with in the south, having been refused entertainment over a stretch of fifty miles, during which time their only fare had been the green apples overhanging country lanes; and, as suggested, their hu- man entertainment along the way had been greener and rawer still. "Yes, sah! Pleased to have ye; walk right in, gent'men. Take dat stool; here's a bench for you'uns. Got nuthin' but porridge, but you'se welcome to dat." Aunt Dinah was already bustling about, to start a fire in the hearth, and glancing furtively every little while at the finely-dressed ministers of the gospel who had deigned to honor her humble home. As the fagots began to blaze, the elders beheld a rotund figure surmounted by a face like a full dark moon, with well preserved rows of ivories, and eyes opening wide and white in contrast with the dusk of their surroundings. "Law me! I wish my ole man wuz alive to meet ye! He's been asleep under dat big tree down yonder fur ten years." Aunt Dinah took down a black pot from a hook on the wall and waddled out of the doorway down toward the spring near the big tree. They could presently hear her heavy footfalls *Dictated by Prof. N. L. Nelson to his English classes, in illustration of how to develop the sketch or short story. 56 IMPROVEMENT ERA mingled with the wah-wah! choru9 of a thousand frogs in the spring and brooklet of which it was the fountain. Having hung the pot over the blazing fire, Aunt Dinah, after waiting a little while, filled a gourd cup with yellow corn- meal from a barrel in the corner, and stirred it briskly into the steaming water with a broom made of willow twigs. For awhile the interest of the visitors centered in the curious figure bending over the fire; then their eyes followed the fitful beams as they fell on walls and ceiling. The interior decorations were surely unique. The room was bare of furniture, save for the stool and bench before men- tioned, and a rude table, the top of which had been worn smooth and white by much scrubbing. The floor also was fault- lessly clean. A sickle, a scythe, a grubbing hoe, and an ax hung against the logs on one side. The picture of Abraham Lincoln, framed by a wreath of autumn leaves, was tacked above the rude mantel. Aunt Dinah's bed brightened one corner of the little room with its immaculate bolster and counterpane of pieced blocks. A ladder in another corner led to the loft, where the elders knew there would be a fine spare bed. All other sensations merged, however, into one of keen ap- petite, as Aunt Dinah presently poured the steaming contents of the pot into two good-sized wooden bowls. After a greatful blessing the elders began eating; nor did they stop to conjecture the spoons they used had perhaps served Aunt Dinah and her man for forty years. The light of the last fagot had changed to the red glow of embers, as Elder Morgan reached something suspiciously soft and pudgy at the bottom of his bowl. "What is this?" he asked, prodding the object with his spoon. " 'Eat what is set before you, asking no questions for con- science sake,' " quoted Elder Peterson with an inward chuckle. He laid down his own spoon, however, with the remark that his appetite was completely satisfied. "Exactly," replied his companion, testily, " 'for conscience sake.' But Paul never comtemplated meat of this kind, and only par-boiled at that," and he proceeded to lift out the oozy morsel by one of its clammy claws. "Got a frog, have ye?" said Aunt Dinah, awakened by the conversation. "Spring's full of the pesky things. Dat's de fo'th time I's cooked 'em dis summer." "Better than green apples, savage dogs, and Pharisees, any way, isn't it?" said Elder Peterson, punching his compan- ion in the ribs, as ten minutes later they sank into the fragrant depth of the spare bed in the loft. — AMATEUR SHORT STORIES 57 // The Advent of Fritz The last forkful of meadow hay had been fed to old Brock a full month ago. Since then she had lived on straw, some of it mouldy at that, until now her backbone was a sharp ridge, and her ribs dropped off into distinct furrows on both sides. She continued, however, to fill up on the coarse provender in meekness and thankfulness, as befitted a pioneer cow; but her food did not seem to digest very well, and the pathetic part of it was that she was eating for two. Conditions were not much better within the little log cabin. The flour bin had been empty for months. Bran and shorts, with a decided preponderance of the coarser meal, formed the basic ingredients of the staff of life. The other ingredient was water; and the means whereby the miracle of the staff ap- peared was a certain iron pot hanging from the chain over the fire. Occasionally this meal of pioneer pottage was enriched by a little handful of "with-it" laid by the side of each wooden bowl; sego bulbs which the children had gathered in the sand- hills nearby. There were six little Hansens in this family group, besides the mother; the father having escaped interesting hardships of this kind by taking his last long sleep under four feet of earth back on the Plains. That sad event occurred three years ago. The funeral had taken place on the same night that he passed away, and the next morning the company had moved on; Mar- tha Han«en drawing the handcart containing the two-year-old Hans and the baby; Peter, Jacob, and Martha, the elder chil- dren, trudging by her side, and four-year-old Hilda walking and riding, as the tiredness of her sturdy little legs and the slope of the road happened to determine. How the bereaved family reached the Valley and managed to live for three years during grasshopper days, is a most inter- eetin ! 58 IMPROVEMENT ERA straw, gathering and munching only the chaff. Pretty soon the long winter hair came off in tufts, and Peter squeezed from the patient back scores of grubs, which had been feeding there all winter. The diet of the family was also improving daily, by vari- ations of greens from the salt-weeds, the water-cress, and the first tender shoots of flags and bullrushes. Tempted by the bunch grass under the sage brush, the old cow would wander miles away from home; and at nigh Nf all the family would sit before the feeble evening fire breathlessly lis- tening for her bellow or the shrill whistle of Pete, whose busi- ness it was to find her and bring her home. So passed another month. "Goody, goody!" shouted little Hans one morning as he shook the horn and emptied out the last pebble. It was so late before the eldest boy came home lhat night that the joy of the family had been turned to deep anxiety. What if old Brock had been mired, and the wolves had killed and eaten her! At last the boy came, driving a very unwilling cow. "She's had a calf, mother," said he, "but she wouldn't go to it. I was afraid to stay there all night, so I brought her home." "But, Peter, my boy, think of the little calf out there alone What if the wolves should find it!" "Oh, dear, I didn't think of that, mother." The suggestion was, indeed, a terrifying one, and all of the little Hansens set up a chorus of loud weeping. The calf had been a pet in their imaginations for months. "Let's all go back, mother, and try to find it now!" begged Hilda, a proposition that the other children eagerly seconded. "But what shall we do with Louise? She's asleep now, but it may be sunrise before we return." "I'll carry her on my back," said Peter. "And I'll help," said Jacob, sturdily; "I can carry her just like fun." Old Brock had not stopped to listen to this interesting dis- cussion, but was already making her way, with many a loud bellow, toward the Corner, which was the name given to a little valley formed by the angle of the eastern mountain range. A lantern was out of the question in those days. The cow was already too far ahead to be seen; but the little family, clinging about the mother, and urged alike by hope and anxi- ety, took up the trail, with only the stars and the recurring bel- low of the cow to guide them. Martha and Hans grew brave as they struck the wagon road and chased onward. "We've found her," they shouted back ten minutes later. "Hans is holding her tail!" AMATEUR SHORT STORIES 59 Pretty soon the rest of the family caught up ; but apparently old Brock did not relish the attention she was receiving, for she refused to go further ahead on her own account, but stopped to crop the grass here and there by the roadside. "I am afraid we shall have to hide, children, or she will never go to her calf." The little group, scantily clad, retired to a clump of big sage brush. While the excitement and anticipation of following the cow had lasted, they had not felt the chilliness of the night; but now, as the children crouched about the mother, they all shivered and the younger ones began crying because of the cold. Thus passed two hours. Old Brock had gone only a short distance. No doubt she was still aware of their presence, by hearing if not by sight. "What shall we do, Peter?" said the mother anxiously. "We cannot stay here longer without a fire." Then the boy remembered that during the previous day Tom Miller had been cleaning some land a half mile distant and had burned the brush. "Maybe there'll be some live coals in the ashes." "Come on, Jake!" and the two boys, glad of a chance for exercise, ran toward the clearing. A half-hour later a blaze was started which soon increased in brightness to such an extent that the cow's white face and anxious eyes became visible as she looked around on the now rather jolly pioneer family. "Mean old thing; if she wouldn't go before, she won't go to her calf now. What shall we do, mother?" asked Martha. "Better wait and enjoy this fire, don't you think, dear? At least until it is light enough to search. See, the sky is already getting pale in the east." Just then, not two hundred yards away, there suddenly broke loose an unearthly ky-yi, as of a dozen coyotes. There were only two, however. Louise was still asleep in her mother's arms, and little Hans and Hilda ran with speed for the protection of the mother's skirt; and then the unexpected happened. "Ma-a-a-a-a," sang out the terrified calf; and with a loud, menacing bellow old Brock started for the hiding place of her baby. The little flock of Hansens broke camp at the same time and made for the spot where the calf was calling for help. Jake and Peter had enough presence of mind to seize, each of them, a brand from the fire, and soon led the way. The rest of the chil- dren were content to march behind their mother. Old Brock had, however, reached the battle-ground first, and was now anxiously licking a little red ball of bunting bo-