--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Barnes, Claude T. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 22 number: 7 published: 1919-05 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Barnes, Claude T., "His Return," *Improvement Era* 22, no. 7 (May 1919): 626–628.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2207unse 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: improvementera2207unse start_page: 626 end_page: 628 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1919-05) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2207unse publication_year: 1919 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 1919, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # His Return 628 IMPROVEMENT ERA to know who it was. Has anyone gone crazy in town?" "Only me, I suppose," answered Maurice. "Why you?" "Well it's a little secret, you know." "I think I can guess it," said Frank quietly, as he played in the water with a willow. "Alright, try." "You are going to get married," and Frank still looked into the water. "You are right," said Maurice, "but how did you know?" "Oh, one of the fellows told me." "I didn't know it was out," replied Maurice. "In fact I didn't want you to know just yet, Frank." "Why not me?" inquired Frank guardedly. "That I can't tell you just now. Have you seen Mary yet?" "No, I haven't," said Frank carelessly. "Well, she can hardly wait to see you." "Yes-s?" eaid Frank incredibly. "Why, you act as if you don't want to see her?" said Maurice, frankly puzzled. "I should like to see her, of course, but not particularly," replied Frank, a little puzzled himself. — " 'Not particularly' you mean that you and she have had trouble," quickly inquired Maurice, as if much surprised. "That's a great question for you to ask, when you and she are going to get married." At that Maurice rolled over with laughter. "What are you laughing at?" shouted Frank, completely ronplussed. "Why you, of course. Who the deuce ever told you I was going to marry Mary?" "Fred Riley," said Frank. "Well, well, well, this is good," said Maurice, "I'm going to marry Katherine — Katherine Burton, who lives at Walton. She has been visiting Mary, and I have taken her and Mary to "»-. Oh this is good," and he roared with laughter. "Well why did you say that you didn't want me to know yer, then?" said Frank, very much embarrassed. "If I must tell you the secret, I must. Mary figured that — perhaps when you got back, that well we just figured on a double wedding, and now you've spoiled it all by your crazy insistence." Just then a weird, demoniacal laugh came from the other end of the pond. "What on earth is that, Maurice," said Frank. " T t's a loon, Frank." "I see — a loon, Say, Maurice, let's go home!" — — Mother's -Day Blue skies and wild winds, sun, and scent, and May, Robins nesting in the trees, bees among the clover; Green vistas through the park and babies there at play. Sabbath day and Mother's day all the Country over, Quiet groups along the streets, hand-clasps and greeting; Music from a distant band, a child's laughter gay But mother's face an April face, with eyes full of visions, For the bonny lad who brought her flowers is far, far away. Hardening in the training camps; ready for the trenches; Sailing high above the clouds, or convoyed out to sea; Struggling over battle fields of nameless sounds and stenches, Gas and smoke and blood and flame wherever he may be. Dangers lurking in the dark of kinds we never dreamed of; Wounded, starved in prison camps and sighing to be free; Others' mothers crucified and children pierced and dying O the sights that pierce our boys' dear eyes are what we mothers see! Yes; pray for mother's fortitude, but pray for her defenses, The Hope of her declining years that sails across the sea; For when for him baptism of fire and shock of shell commences, She walks with anxious, bleeding heart to her Gethsemane. The trials of the passing years seemed nearly all behind her; She looked for her reward, and lo! this great unmeasured grief, And yet she struggles on, and still the multitudes will find her A patriot at prayer, "Lord, I believe, help thou my unbelief." Sarah E. Hawley Pearson. Ogden, Utah The Contact By Nephi Jensen Frank had returned home from an eastern college a few days before. This clear, spring evening, he and his octogenarian father were standing upon an elevation overlooking the city at their feet. The brilliant rows of electric lights, streaking the town with their "white ways," was an inspiring view. As the two turned and walked towards the metropolis, the father broke the silence. "That is a most beautiful sight." The young impressionable student, just from the shrine of the Godless Science, did not see the aptness of the adjective "beautiful." He thought of another. His response carried a note of homage to his new found divinity. "Yes," said he, "it is one of the splendid triumphs of modern science." But he was not quite sure that his father, who had never been to college, saw the full meaning of the student's tribute to the achievements of modern man. So he elaborated. "In the single field of electricity, alone, science has almost succeeded in satisfying every human want. It has made electricity bear our burdens, warm and light our homes, and carry our messages to the furthermost ends of the world." "Yes," said the father, "it is truly marvelous what man's ingenuity has accomplished with the spark Benjamin Franklin snatched from the clouds. But there are a great many of man's deepest needs electricity cannot supply. It can fuse into one two pieces of the hardest steel, but it cannot knit together two estranged hearts. It can pull our heaviest trains up the steep mountain summit, but it cannot break the chains of a single evil habit. It can brilliantly light our houses, but cannot send the faintest ray to the dark recesses of a despairing soul. It has brought the continents next door to each other, and yet the race is as far from God and the real heart of things as it was two thousand years ago. All the modern marvels about which men so justly wax eloquent are confined to the realms of the forces of nature. They only minister to man's physical comforts and needs. None of them touch or tame the wild, pulsating human spirit. The terrible trinity of evil, war, lust, and narcotics, still devastates, blights, and corrupts human society. What the world now most needs is a power that will give it the same mastery over the forces of evil that science has given it over the forces of nature. Onlv