Outlines for Scout Workers

582 IMPROVEMENT ERA

His well-built neck and long, pointed, strong bill suggest ability to cope with struggling prey or defend against intruding enemies. Stories are told of the bittern standing off and even overcoming small dogs with the skilful use of his dagger-like bill. His wings are shorter than are those of the heron, and in consequence he is less graceful in flight. Ordinarily his journeys are of short duration from place to place among the swamps. He is a true hermit of the marshes, and lives alone except during mating season. Then he and his mate seem happy together "in the responsibilities of married life." Their homenest is rudely constructed of rushes, grass, weeds, and sticks upon the ground in close proximity to water. The eggs, numbering from three to six, are of a brownish drab color. As a rule, his presence among the reeds is detected with considerable difficulty. His huffish brown plumage, almost the color of the surrounding vegetation, is surely a decided protection to him. For hours at a time he stands motionless among the shielding rushes and grasses in wait for unsuspecting prey or to enjoy the pleasures of midday slumbers. If disturbed through cause of fear he thrusts his bill straight up and silently watches until the intruder has disappeared. It is said that his protective habits are so remarkable that if the reeds among which he is standing are swaying the bird will swing back and forth in unison with their motion. This, of course, makes his body appear as rushes in the wind and the upturned bill as nothing more than a stiff, pointed blade projecting above a common brown clump. A few years ago bitterns were somewhat numerous among the swamps of our state, but through incessant activities of thoughtless gunners and inroads of noisy civilization, they are at present comparatively scarce. In consequence of this our interest-giving marshes are sadly losing one of their distinctive charms for students of literature and lovers of nature. It is difficult to imagine a complete picture of one of our summer sloughs without its lonely bittern. Green vegetation and rise in temperature are not alone sufficient to convert a winter's swamp into one of summer. Rob the scene of its birds and you scourge it with German "kultur." "Where bird-life touches ours we feel an uplifting influence. We are better fitted for the service which it is our privilge to render to the world. Our horizon is broadened beyond the self-interest, the egoistic, to the altruistic conception of life. We cannot live in the presence of these creatures so full of life without being spurred to more earnest effort ourselves. When we fail to see in the world of nature about us what it is our privilege to see, we are losing that much of life. Let us open our eyes to all the influences that may shape our lives toward best living."

Copyright by Underwood & Underwood, N. Y. SPARTACANS VS. GOVERNMENT TROOPS IN BERLIN Revolutionary tendencies were at a high pitch throughout Germany in early March. In the above photo German soldiers and sailors of the Government are being fed by German women. The soldier, it might be remarked, carries a hand grenade in his belt, and the sailor is of the late lamented "Westfalen," surrendered after the Armistice was signed. In the lower photo Spartacan and Government troops are seen discussing the possibilities of a cessation of hostilities in the streets of Berlin. As a flag of truce, the man at the left has utilized a white, lace curtain.

How Elsa Came From Germany By Annie D. Palmer

This is not a war story, but the terrible suffering of the war-time has intensified by many degrees the appreciation and gratitude, for having been led to the Valleys of the Mountains, in. the days when peace was in the land. And as Elsa now reads with tear-dimmed eyes the story of her war-stricken country, she often wonders why the hand of God should so have guided her, while her friends are left to partake of the sins and sorrows of her native land. Let men say it was chance, let women declare her a daughter of fortune —to those who know the gospel of Christ, she is literally one of God's chosen children. We may not know what noble work was hers, what songs of praise she sang, what words of love she uttered; but this we — know her spirit lived before it came to earth; in the spirit world it was in harmony with the will of God; and when it left the heavenly courts to gain the experiences of earth life, God gave his angels charge to keep close watch upon its wanderings. Elsa's father died when she was very young, and her mother had gone into business in the big city of Dresden, the business of a flower vender. Elsa had lived with her grandparents in a pretty little village among the hills. Here she had gone to school and read the books that other German children read, and played the games that other German children played. And the fresh air and sunshine had brought roses to her cheeks and sparkle to her eyes. And the loving care of the grandparents had kept her honest and truthful and innocent. So when, at the age of fourteen, Elsa came to the city to live with her mother, and to arrange the vases and baskets and floral designs, there was not a blossom among them all that was more perfectly formed or more beautiful to look upon than was she, the flower of the Meisen valley. Her mother was exceedingly proud of her, and took her to relic halls, to picture galleries, to grand operas, to every place where friends and acquaintances might see and admire. But always, the mother guarded her child carefully, lest her youth and inexperience should lead her into evil ways. And the little girl was taught to hate flattery and to be very distrustful of the

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fine looking men who came to purchase nosegays and asked her to arrange their purchases properly in their buttonholes. In those happy days there was between mother and daughter but one secret. The mother, unknown to Elsa, was investigating a strange creed. How little did she dream, as she sat poring over the fascinating pages of the Book of Mormon, that that creed should become their strongest bond of union, as well as the cause that should separate them for life! "What do you think, mother dear?" Elsa said excitedly, as she ran in from school on a stormy afternoon, "what do you think? Edith Kjer's father and mother have joined the 'Mormons!' Oh, mother, I shall never like Edith any more, never! How could they do it? They were such nice people, too!" "What do you know about the 'Mormons,' Elsa?" asked the mother, deeply hurt, yet wondering what her daughter really had heard. — "Well not very much, mother; only all the girls in high — school say they are low and wicked and they can't get a hall to preach in— and the magistrate has ordered every one of them sent to jail." "Does my daughter remember that when the Savior was on the earth the rulers of the land not only had him put in jail, but that they had him put to death as well?" "But, mother, he was perfect and these 'Mormons' are wicked." "We do not know that they are wicked, and I do not believe they are." "Why, mother! Surely you have not joined them, too!" "No, I have not. But I have read some of their books, and I think I have never read anything better." "But you will not join them, mother! You could not! Why, all the girls and boys would hate me, and I could never go to high school any more, and nobody would come to buy flowers, and maybe the man who grows the roses would not even sell them to us any more." "If what the 'Mormon' elders teach is true," the mother answered, as she folded the trembling girl in her arms, "it is worth every sacrifice, even though it should be life itself. But do not be alarmed. We shall pray about it, and we shall be led aright." "I shall never pray about it, — mother unless I pray that you will never be a 'Mormon.' Mother dear, I love you so! I love you so!" The girl burst into hysterical sobbing. It was the first real sorrow of her life. And as yet she was only half aware of the hatred and scorn that so surely followed the converts of the unpopular faith.