Where Angels Fear to Tread

<r? Where Angels Fear to Tread" By O. S. Johnson "That's all right, Pete, but it won't work out. It's like that gold mine old Tom found once, that would have made millions for him had there been any gold in it. Your idea would be wonderful if it would work out, but it won't." "Did you ever try it? Did any one you ever heard of try it?" "No. But that doesn't prove that it's no good." "Don't, eh? Well I'd like to know how you're going to prove it then. If you'll tell us that perhaps we'll try out your scheme and see if it'll work." "The only way there is to prove a thing is to try it. When you've tried it and found it a failure, or even found anyone who has tried it and found it a failure, then I'll give up." "Well, when you tell us the use of trying when all the "best" men of the country say it's no good, then we'll go after it and try it ourselves." "Well, just because some of the most 'prominent' men say it's not good, that don't prove it isn't. How do they know any more about it than we do? They've never tried it according to some of their own words, but there are those who have tried it. And I'm one of them. You've all tried it, and it was suc- cessful. But you're too much wrapped up in yourselves to acknowledge anyone's help but your own. Do you know what happens to such people? Read your books that have been given to you for guides. Read the Book of Mormon, or any other of our Church works." "How do we know they tried what they say they tried? We never saw any of them try it." "Yes, but we know that they did try it. We have seen peo- ple who saw them try it and who say it is true themselves. Let's take the men of this town. I'll bet the ones who have done it are more successful than the ones who have never done it, and I'll go farther and say that the ones who are trying it now are still more successful, and farther yet and say that I can pick them out without asking them." There was a kind of silence — the kind that comes amongst a bunch of boys who have just heard one swear unusually hard. A little bit awed, but still a bit of surprise mixed with

WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD 425 it. A silence that gives the one who secured it the floor until the others get their breath. Pete had the floor. The dozen loafers in the store were ready to listen then, and he made use of their willingness, or perhaps not so much willingness as dazedness. Pete was a collector of hides. All kinds of hides, and a bit of a philosopher into the bargain. He had breezed in that morning, and as he always had been, was in a hurry. He had time, however, as he always did have, for a mental skirmish with the loafers. He liked to daze them once in a while, and once in a great while he made them think. But he consid- ered them mostly as a bunch of fools that rushed into any kind of an argument, and sometimes it was not the cleanest kind. It had been so that day. One of them had said something about praying for a stick of candy. Pete was not the kind to let an opportunity pass to leave them with as near a clear idea on any subject as was in his power to do so. Prayer was one of his hobbies. It was about that that they were talking. It was about that which he had challenged them. It was that particular subject that he had succeeded in putting forth in such a man- ner as to produce that peculiar kind of silence. And with a merry, satisfied twinkle, he viewed their dazedness, proceeded to make his purchases and turned to go. "Hold on, Pete, let's get this thing right. You say that you can pick the prayers out without asking them if they pray, by their looks?" Pete turned. It was not often that he met real intelligence in such a place, but he had struck it this time, and turned with the joy of battle in his eye. The joy that proclaimed him a victor even before the fight. He hid that joy in his voice by calmly admitting, "Yes, boys, that's what I said. And that's what I meant." The speaker, Lije, looked over the room, frowned in a way that plainly showed he was trying to hide a smile, and said, "Do you see any of that brand here?" "One," calmly without even glancing around. "There are one or two who have attempted it at times, but one only who really prayed for something that was worth having." He looked around then, as if daring them to ask him who. And it so sur- prised him when it did come that he almost shouted, "You for one, Bill Davis. And I can tell you what you prayed for, and it's a God's blessing that that prayer was answered or you would have been the worst good-for-nothing in this part of the world. Do you want me to tell what you prayed for?" Bill was almost white, and it was noticeable that he shook a little as he took a match from his mouth, which he had there

426 IMPROVEMENT ERA in place of the customary cigarette. He couldn't smoke in the store. Pete with a kind of sneer, that didn't mean to be a sneer, looked at his discomfiture. "Don't eh? Well I don't blame you, and anyway it was only a sort of trial. You're not one of the prayers. Not the one I spoke of. He keeps still, and I know he's not ashamed of it. See that young silent fellow over there. Do you know how successful he is, any of you?" They all stared their negative reply. "Neither do I, boys," and his voice sank lower, "but God does. And Sam, don't you let this little discovery make you blush so, you'll be a hero in a few minutes." But Sam was not the blushing kind. He merely smiled in an appreciative way, and went on listening. Pete watching him, smiled in a way that said, "I know you. You're the real thing all right." To the audience he said, "Bill here was afraid to have me tell what he prayed for, because he was afraid someone would look as if it were a joke. And he was afraid that if anyone looked like that, he would hit him good and hard. I don't blame him for feeling that way, for if anyone looked the least bit like they were thinking lightly of anything that was half as important to me as the answer to Bill's prayer is to him, I'd come very near go- ing too far with my fists, feet and other members of my anatomy. "Sam's different. He knows that what people think of him doesn't matter as long as they just think, and people rarely say anything slighting about an answer to a prayer. They have that divine part of their being, and it gets riled up when they start to thinking about such things. They feel like they are not certain just what would happen if they said what they think, so they are silent, when on any other occasion they'd split their mouth wider talking." He stopped for breath, and after getting a supply of it, waited to see if there were any who wanted to have their say. Finding nothing but a silence of curiosity he proceeded to prick the bubble by announcing that if there was anyone in the room who had never prayed he dared him to acknowledge it. Not a sign rewarded the dare. "Just as I supposed. All of you have prayed at sometime in your lives. Lem, tell me honestly when you were the freest from worry." Promptly the reply came, "When I was a kid." "Just so. You know why, don't you? Not because you prayed. No, no. Not because you never thought serious thoughts either. But because you trusted. You hadn't ever been beaten in a knife trade. No one had ever threatened to

WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD 427 cut your worthless hide to ribbons if you didn't stay off the premises. You thought the world was a fine place. People in general were good to you, and you always had a feeling that there was a power around you that was very sweet and secure. Isn't that true?" Lem nodded. So did several others. Lem's eyes got a little bright, but the glitter died. Pete saw it and a warm sympathy enveloped him. "Lem, let me tell you how to get the good feeling again. Don't you remember that you were mostly busy them days? Well just you try getting a good job for a month, and while you're working, just as a little experiment, pray God to send you one happy moment, in order that you may know the real feeling when it comes. He'll send it, Lem. You just try it. And then when you get home again, don't spend your Sundays thinking how you're going to beat Bill out of old Topsy, spend them in church. Ask the Bishop to let you go round with one of the ward teachers. You'll be so surprised to find that a busy brain has no time for fault-finding that you'll keep clear of the loafer's corner for ever after. It's only the idler that kicks. "It's the idler that complains about how the big men spend the tithing. The same fellow who finds fault with his neighbor's way of raising hay. You never heard a full tithe- payer kick about the way his money was spent. You never heard a farmer say that his neighbor was a lazy dog. That old story about the Devil taking possession of all empty places is about right. Let ideas begin to get scarce in your heads and he gets in there mighty quick. And he's the most discontented cuss in the whole Universe. He never was pleased with the way things were going, and he never will be. But he's a mighty idle fellow and likes idlers for company." Pete had delivered his shot, and knowing that it would bear some kind of fruit seemed willing to wait and see what sort. With a hearty, "Try it out, fellows, it's the only road to happiness," he passed out of the store into his waiting Ford and was gone. Out of the whole group, not one seemed to be communicative. Sam smiled a quiet good day, and left them. He was not one of them. As Pete had said, he was a prayer, and prayers are always workers. Lem shortly followed him, and applied to Sam's father for a sheep-herding job. He got it. No need to say that he was going to test the theory. But no doubt he knew the outcome. For as Pete had said of him, once he had been happy. And he knew that Pete was right. Bill left in a slow, almost melancholy silence. He was the only one who could have told why there was a sort of sadness in his leaving. He went directly home, and when his good wife came in

428 IMPROVEMENT ERA with an armful of wood, he kissed her in a manner that quite surprised her. "God gave you to me Jennie, and I've been a fool. To prove that I've awoke, I'm going to present this whole carton of tobacco to Old Jones across the way, who really will get more joy out of it than I ever had. But not as much joy as I will in getting rid of it. Why dear, don't cry. I'm not going to be away long. Just a few months, in order to get a start. Perhaps you will be able to come with me later." And they awoke to the fact that each was really of value to the other, and in a way they realized that they had missed a great deal. It is likely that Bill had hopes of making it up. In his hopes they will both be happier than before. Other members of that gang took Pete's advice seriously, or tried to, But the majority only smiled and went on being phil- osophers. Pete summed up his idea for the case when he got home. "Well, dear," this from his wife, "Was it a good day?" "Fine. Had a good chance for some missionary work, if I'd had time." "What sort of missionary work, dear?" "Oh it was a case of "Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread." "And you, I suppose, were the angel. I'll bet you acted your part poorest of all." To which Pete chuckled and re- lated the incident as he knew it. Of that which he knew noth- ing, however, he said nothing. And yet it was by far the most important part. Cannonville, Utah Uphold the Right To chase the darkness out of night, Uphold the right; To bask the soul in purest light, Uphold the right; And when grim weakness sadly sighs, Just choke all doubt until it dies, Uphold the right. When sadness settles thick and sore, Uphold the right; When sweat is dripping from each pore, Uphold the right; And when you feel that death is nigh, Or that 'twould be real sweet to die, Uphold the right. J. S. Dudley, Jr.