An Effective Diary

An Effective Diary By William Henry Peterson

"A majority of hands are up," said ex-Bishop A. "That means that you will all be here tomorrow morning at' eight o'clock, ready to go to work." "Is it necessary that we work tomorrow?" asked Clifford Benion. "Times are hard," responded the ex-Bishop. Prices on farm products are going down, wages and taxes are high, and I find that three hundred and sixty-five days in a year are hardly enough in which to earn a living." It was Saturday night. The men and boys to whom the ex-Bishop was talking were tired and hungry. They had been working hard all day on his farm, after which they had ridden to town on one of the farm wagons. The sun was down; night was fast approaching, and a cold wind was blowing dead leaves through the streets as the workmen left the ex-Bishop's home. Slowly and laboriously they plodded their way homeward. "You are going my way, Brother Hansen. I will walk with you and help you carry your sack of grain," said one of the workmen. For a time they walked in silence. "Three hundred and sixty-five days," muttered the old man. "I was thinking of the same thing," said the young workman. "I don't understand how the boss could say that three hundred and sixty-five days of each year are hardly enough in which to earn a living. Everybody knows that I need money a thousand times worse than he does, but just the same, I would rather not work on Sunday. "Why did you not vote that way?" asked the old man. "If an ex-Bishop can work on Sunday, so can I," was the reply. "Besides, he told some of us that the work he had to do was so important that unless we were willing to work on Sundays we could consider ourselves 'fired,' and he would get other help." "He may fire me if he likes," said the old man, taking his sack of grain from the young man's shoulder, "but for me, I am going to do my duty. Here you see my humble home. I haven't very much of this world's goods, but I have a conscience void of offense to God and man. Tomorrow is the Sabbath day, hal-

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lowed and set apart as a day of rest by our Creator. I, for one, shall observe it." "You are right, Brother Hansen, and if I hadn't promised to come back to work, I would do just as you are going to do." There was another workman who did not approve of working on the Sabbath. It was Clifford Benion, a boy of high ideals and noble aspirations. He had been taught the gospel of Jesus Christ from his infancy, and he had learned to honor it as God's greatest gift to man. Now he was being asked to break one of the greatest commandments. He remembered that the last Sunday's memory gem was:

"And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made. "And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it: because that in it he had rested from all his work which God created and made."

Clifford waited till the workmen had gone, then he addressed his boss: "Mr. A.," he said, "I would like to be excused from work tomorrow." "What's the matter, my boy, are you sick; or have you some work of your own you would like to do?" "Neither," was the reply. "Tomorrow is the Sabbath, and I—" "Never mind any explanations," interrupted the ex-Bishop, raising his hand. "The work must be done, and you're no better than the rest of us." For a moment the boy did not know what to say. After a moment's thought he replied: "I am no better than you or the other men, but I think we are all too good to desecrate the Sabbath." It was now the ex-Bishop's turn to hesitate about a reply. He had at one time been one of the best bishops in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The members of his ward loved and respected him for his diligence and uprightness. As time passed, he became wealthy, and his great ability, which had wrought wonders in the service of the Lord, was gradually but completely directed toward making money. Finally he resigned his position as bishop. The light of faith, which had burned so brightly in his soul, dwindled down until no perceptible radiance came from his being. So engrossed had he become in gathering wealth that, like Midas, his great and only desire was to obtain more gold. How should he answer the boy? Callous as he was, he knew the boy was right. He had dulled his conscience, but he had not been successful in entirely crushing it. Righteous and noble sentiments, which, during the past number of years, had been

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crowded into the background of his soul, tried to express themselves in speech and action. His baser desires crowded them back, and after a short, tense, mental struggle he said: "I have made arrangements with the men to work tomorrow. I cannot change that now. You must do as iey do, or I must get other T

help." "Will you give me time to talk it over with father?" asked the boy. "It is now 7 o'clock," said A "I will give you until 8:30 1

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to decide. On or before that time you must let me know what you are going to do." The boy found supper waiting. His parents, because they did not want to partake of the evening meal until they received information as to what was detaining their son, were sitting by the dining-room stove, patiently waiting. Nothing was said about the lateness of the hour until after the blessing on the food had been asked. "We had a splendid stake priesthood meeting this afternoon, Clifford," said the father. "As I sat there enjoying the peaceful influence of the Spirit of the Lord, there was only one thought that disturbed my mind and caused me any sorrow." "May I ask what that was, father; or is it something you do not care to tell me about?" "I do not think there is anything in your father's life of such a nature that he needs hide it from his son," said Sister Benion, passing some hot rolls to Clifford. The boy looked surprised. Then an expression of sympathv and love came into his face as he said "I had no such thought :

in my mind, mother. I asked the question before I had really given it any thought. If I have offended I — "Wait," said the father; "a man of honorable deeds can have no objection to answering a straightforward question. The thought that caused me pain was about you." "Me!" exclaimed the boy. "In what way?" "I felt guilty to think that I was in the house of the Lord enjoying a spiritual feast, while you were out working to support your mother and me." "You worked for me a long time, father, while I was too little to work for myself. Now you are crippled. You are not to blame because you were injured in an automobile accident. I am only too glad for this opportunity to show my gratitude, now that you can't help yourself." "It does my heart good to hear you say so, my boy. Although it is impossible for both of us to attend the monthly priesthood meeting, which is held on Saturday; yet, if you will be diligent about attending your meetings on the Sabbath, I am sure your spiritual development will not be neglected."

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"That is just what I want to talk to you about," said the boy. i

"Your spiritual development?" asked the father. Clifford explained the situation in which he found himself, and asked his father's advice. Brother Benion was a man who had a strong testimony of the gospel. He believed that his first duty was to serve God. His advice to his son had always been: Seek first the kingdom of God, and then all else will be added. To him the Sabbath day was a holy day, set apart and hallowed of the Lord as a day of rest and worship. Much as he wanted his son to observe the Sabbath, yet he did not believe in forcing him to do so. He believed in teaching his son correct principles, and then letting the boy govern his own actions. "This is a matter you must decide for yourself, Clifford," he said. "Consult your own conscience, and do as it dictates to you. We need the money you are earning, and I do not know of another place where you can get employment for the present. However, do not let that influence you. We will get along somehow. I'll be able to go to work again in a month or two, and then I want you to go back to school." "Do you think I should talk to Mr. A. over the telephone, or do you think I ought to go to his home?" "Go down to his home, lay the matter before him, and give him your decision," answered the father. "I am confident you will do the right thing." It was a difficult matter for Clifford to decide what to do. He did not want to work on Sunday; and yet, if he refused to work, he would lose his job. Due to the unfortunate accident in which his father was hurt, the Benion family had been left with no source of income except what Clifford was able to make. The boy studied the problem from all angles as he walked to the ex-Bishop's home. He didn't want his parents to suffer, nor did he want to break the Sabbath. Before reach- ing the A. home, however, he arrived at a definite conclusion. "Well," said the ex-Bishop, leaning back in his large easy chair, and staring indifferently into the glowing fire, which crackled as the sparks, one after another, or in groups, skipped up the spacious chimney, "I suppose you have decided not to work, or you would have telephoned me." "Before giving you my answer," replied the boy, "I would like to talk to you." "Go ahead," said the man, but there was very little interest expressed, either in the tone of his voice or the expression of his face. Clifford had been thinking over a great many things to

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ay to his boss, but when he was given the opportunity, he found it very difficult to express his ideas. "I hardly know where or how to begin," he said, "but I do want to say that I want to keep on working for you. I need the money more at this time than I have needed it at any other time in my past life. I like to work for you because the pay is prompt and sure. At the same time, my religion teaches me that I should not work on Sunday. Do you see how I am placed?" "Exactly," was the reply. "What have you decided to do?" "Before I give you my answer, I would like to have you answer a question, and then read this." He drew from his pocket a note-book which, although in fairly good shape, was old and somewhat worn. "You are recognized as being fairly well-read in science," went on the boy. "I was told in M. I. A. last winter that nature's laws remain constant. Is that true?" The ex-Bishop threw off his lethargy, as he would an old coaL His features and voice became animated, and, turning in his chair, he said: "There is no question in my mind about a law of the universe being the same today that it was yesterday. We must not, however, confuse theory and law. Truth is basic; it does not change. Theory may or may not be truth. Inasmuch as theories are found to be untrue they change. Note, for example, the movements of the earth, the moon, and the sun. These enormous bodies move through the immensity of space with an exactness that appals the human mind. Our conception of truth changes, but truth itself remains constant. Does that answer your question?" "Yes, sir," answered Clifford. Looking inquisitively at the boy, the ex-Bishop asked, "Why did you bring that question to me?" • "Six years ago," replied the young man, "I started to keep a diary. At that time I was in the deacons' quorum. One night, according to my diary, our teacher was absent, and you taught the class. Would you like to read what I wrote in my diary on that particular day?" The ex-Bishop held out his hand. "I am sure it will be a pleasure," he said. He took the diary and read in a low tone of voice, as if talking to himself. He read rapidly at first, but as he progressed, his reading became slower. It was evident that he was reading a great deal between the lines, and seeing many pictures besides those expressed in the diary, which was written as follows: January, 1914. Climbed out at 6:30. Cold as blazes. Had hot milk for breakfast. Spilt mine. Father says I am as handy as a cow. Professor Jenson laughed at me in school today. We were having grammar class, and the lesson was on feminine and masculine gender. I don't see why they have such cranky names. Mr. Jenson asked William Stringham

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to give the feminine gender for baron. "Baroness," said Will. Then my turn came. "What is the feminine gender for duke?" asked Mr. Jenson. I hadn't studied my lesson very good. I was stuck. "Come, Clifford,"snorted Mr. Jenson, "try it." I had no way of judging the future but by the past. Will added "ess." I did the same. "Duckess," I cried. Mr. Jenson and the whole class laughed, and I felt like ten cents. It is now 10 o'clock, and I have just returned from priesthood meeting. — We had a fine meeting. Bishop A was our teacher. Our regular teacher, Brother Wells, is sick. Our lesson was about keeping the Sabbath Day holy. We learned that it is wrong to work on the Lord's day. Brother — A is a great man. I hope I am like him when I am grown. He had us memorize a piece from the Doctrine and Covenants. He said we should try to remember it, all the days of our lives, and if we would do as it told us, we would always be doing right. Before closing for today I am going to try to write it from memory. Here goes: "And that thou mayest more fully keep thyself unspotted from the world, thou shalt go to the house of prayer and offer up thy sacraments upon my holy day; for verily this is a day appointed unto you to rest from your labors, and to pay thy devotions unto the Most High; nevertheless thy vows shall be offered up in righteousness on all days, and at all times; but remember that on the Lord's day, thou shalt offer thine oblations and thy sacraments unto the Most High, confessing thy sins unto thy brethren, and before the Lord."

For several moments after reading the diary, neither man nor boy spoke. "I begin to understand," said the man, struggling with his emotions. "I did not appreciate your position. There is only one thing for you to do." "You think my first duty is to my parents," responded the boy. "However that may be, I have decided that I will work tomorrow, rather than lose my job. The money I earn on the Sabbath, you may dispose of as you see fit. I do not want it If that is satisfactory, I will be on hand at 8 o'clock in the morning." Clifford arose to go. A. raised his hand. "Wait," he said. You do not have to come to work tomorrow, and I am going to call up the other men. They may stay at home if they like." "Hurrah!" shouted the boy. "I— I—" "Sometime ago," interrupted the ex-Bishop, "you spoke about leasing a piece of ground. I refused. I have changed my mind. Come down next Tuesday night and we'll arrange a contract." "Thank you, Brother A.," said the boy, extending his hand. "I am going home with some good news. Good night." "Good night," answered the ex-Bishop. "God bless you." Monti, Utah.