The Heritage and Promise

THE HERITAGE AND PROMISE By John Henry Evans Author of "One Hundred Years of Mormonism" Part II III "Mormonism" has always taught the Gospel of Work. Its revelations, its sermons, and its documents generally are full of con- demnation for the idler and of promises for the man who gives honest toil. And these teachings have been consistently backed up in practice. "An idle brain," says the old adage, "is the devil's workshop." Certainly it is fruitful of great mischief in boy and man, in girl and woman. Activity is man's, as it is nature's, normal condition, activity of both mind and body, and when profitable and honorable work is denied him his restless brain and muscle will find an outlet in evil. Idleness is especially demoralizing when it is accompanied with wealth. Absence of compelling motives to industry in the world's leisure class — the "unworking aristocracy" of which Carlyle speaks, a class of men that think themselves entitled to "live sumptuously on the marrow of the earth" without doing anything at all in return — has generally proved degenerating. Idleness leads to parasitism, a living permanently on the fruits of others' toil, a blood-sucking sort of life, of which a man made in the image of God should be ashamed. It is almost always attended by certain crimes — theft, lying, sometimes murder. Its general accompaniment is poverty, distress, ignorance. More than any other one thing else it is responsible for ignorance and crime. In the long run, both in the community and the indi- vidual, it spells death. Honorable work, on the other hand, is one of the most whole- some, upbuilding influences that can come into one's life. In work, says the sage of Chelsea, "there is a perennial nobleness, even sacredness. Were he never so benighted, forgetful of his high calling, there is hope in a man that actually and earnestly works. The desire to get work done will itself lead one more and more to truth. A man perfects himself by working. Foul jungles are cleared away, fair seed-fields rise instead, and stately cities; and withal the man himself ceases to be a jungle and foul, unwholesome desert thereby. Con- sider how, even in the meanest sort of labor, the whole soul of man is composed into a kind of harmony, the instant he sets himself to work!" Just as idleness is death, so labor is life. Without labor there is no worthy life. "All work of man is as the swimmer's. A waste ocean threatens to devour him. If he front it not bravely, it will keep its word. But incessant, wise defiance of it, lusty rebuke and buffet

THE HERITAGE AND PROMISE 509 of it, behold how loyally it supports him, bears him as its conqueror along." Nothing in the civilized life that can be called worthy but has come through work of hand or brain. And this can easily be lost through idleness, just as a garden or field, neglected, goes to weeds. No higher tribute can be paid a community than to say that every adult is at work on a job for which he is best fitted and for which he receives all he earns. And this ideal would go farther than any other one thing to bring man to the happiness that we have come to associate with the Millennium. Work, physical and mental and social, is a cardinal principle of the "Mormon" Church. Not only is "the laborer worthy of his hire," but "he that is idle shall not eat the bread nor wear the garments of the laborer." This fundamental precept runs like a continuous thread all through the fabric of "Mormon" thought. And like everything else that is "Mormon" it is hooked up with religion. The quotation just given is from one of the revelations to Joseph Smith. In more than one of these religious pronouncements of the Prophet, the Lord is represented as greatly displeased with idleness. "Cease to be idle," is an injunction to the early Saints, "cease to sleep longer than is needful." And to the end apparently that the worker may be ef- ficient he is admonished to retire betimes to his bed that his "body may not be weary," and to rise early that his "body and mind may be invigorated" — a precept that is in entire agreement with the ex- perience of the race. In another revelation "the inhabitants of Zion" are informed that the Lord "is not well pleased" with them, "for there are idlers among them," in consequence of which "their children are growing up in wickedness." Idleness is a sin, requiring, like other sins, the discipline of the Church. "The idler shall be had in remem- brance before the Lord." Work is enjoined as a duty. "The inhabitants of Zion shall remember their labors in all faithfulness." In spiritual matters at least, initiative and activity are commanded. "Verily I say, men should be anxiously engaged in a good cause, and do many things of their own free will, and bring to pass much righteousness; for the power is in them, wherein they are agents unto themselves. And inasmuch as men do good they shall in no wise lose their reward. But he that doeth not anything until he is commanded, and receiveth a commandment with a doubtful heart, and keepeth it with slothfulness, the same is damned." The class from which "Mormonism" has drawn its recruits is the great middle class, the working class, the class that has to make its living, instead of having it given through' inheritance or charity. As in the days of early Christianity, not many rich, "not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble" have obeyed the modern call to repentance. Nor, on the other hand, has the New Revelation appealed to the lower stratum of society — the idle, the

510 IMPROVEMENT ERA shiftless, the class to whom the world is said to owe a living. If any of these have by the merest chance drifted into the Church, they have quickly drifted out again, and not by chance. "Mormonism" is a religion for the worker, not for the shirker. It is distinctly not a fair- weather church. If anything were needed to confirm this fact, it will be found in the hard conditions under which the "Mormons" have generally found themselves. Almost from the beginning they have been pioneers in a new country. Missouri and Illinois were on the frontiers. In western Iowa they were in a wilderness without roads. And in what has come to be called Utah they made their home in the very bosom of the Great American Desert, a thousand miles from the edge of civilization. This has meant, of course, that they have been compelled by the sternest necessity literally to work out their temporal salvation or starve to death. They could not therefore have chosen, individually or as a people, to follow the ways of idleness without endangering their very existence. In the time of Brigham Young hard work of both hand and brain was the policy consciously adopted by that great pioneer leader. He set the example himself by working with his hands, even after the necessity for it had disappeared. He built his own houses, he assisted in setting type for the first paper money issued by the State of Deseret, he took a contract to build ninety miles of the first railroad into the Territory. Over and over again he used to affirm that he had accepted nothing from the Church for his services, but had earned everything he owned. And he saw to it that every one else in the community worked for what he got. Once, during a session of the legislature, he learned that a large number of men seemed to have nothing else to do than to watch the law-makers. He sent his secretary to take their names. In a day or two these men found themselves preparing for missions to colonize new valleys — five with their families to this place, ten to that place, and twenty to some other, each one according to his capability. Instead of doling out charity to the needy, but able-bodied, men in the community, and running the risk of lowering permanently their self-respect and of bringing on continued pauperism in them, he wisely provided them with work. In this way was built the old wall around parts of Salt Lake City, although there was no great necessity for it. Presi- dent Young believed strongly in the education of the hand as well as of the head and the heart. And this idea, one which has since been generally adopted in education practice, he embodied in the charters of the Church schools he established. Nor have recent years brought any modification of this "Mor- mon" ideal. The leaders of the Church since Brigham Young's time, while without the means of enforcing their ideas possessed by that powerful man, have nevertheless laid the same stress that he did on

THE HERITAGE AND PROMISE 511 the absolute necessity for work. Work in the shop, the factory, and the office, in the home, the Church, and the state — this, it is safe to say, will always be one of the basic teachings of the "Mormon" peo- ple, for it is grounded in their religion and philosophy of life. Thus we have this element in the atmosphere in which the "Mormon" youth grow to maturity and which they breathe all their lives. So bitter has been the experience of the Latter-day Saints from lawlessness in one form or another that they have come to believe passionately in government and the orderly processes of law. Not only their experience, but their religion, has taught them this, and they have endeavored to carry out the precept in practice. No nation, no community, can long exist without a decent respect for law. That is an axiom of history. Sometimes, as in an absolute monarchy, this respect comes from fear; sometimes, as in a simple democracy, it springs from a love for orderly life. But what- ever its source, regard for law lies at the basis of all society, whether primitive or advanced. In a democracy it is absolutely necessary not only that the people obey the law, but that they obey it through love of right, not through fear of punishment. The reason is plain. Democracy rests, not on government from without, but on government from with- in. Its very foundation is self-restraint in its individual citizens. Where this is lacking, the spirit of democracy is absent; and where the spirit of democracy is wanting, there will presently grow up external power, then revolution, and after that democracy will have to begin all over again. There are very grave signs today that democracy in America is failing. It is perceptible in a growing tendency on the part of many people, particularly the rich and the socially influential, to dis- regard such laws, both national and local, as are not to their taste. A notable instance of this is the general attitude of these persons to- ward the prohibition law. Infractions of this enactment are so numerous and flagrant as to be a national scandal. This may be only a temporary slipping of the American mind. It may be one of the results of the late war. And then again it may prove to be a symptom of a national disease. At any rate, unless the spirit of law- lessness is soon checked, it will spread, as it already shows signs of spreading, to a disregard for other laws, till no law will be sacred any more. And then — the abysmal depths! This is why the thinking class in America are becoming alarmed for the safety of democratic institutions, and are sounding the trumpet of battle against these anarchistic forces. Against this sort of thing the Saints have always set their faces. "Governments," says the Prophet Joseph Smith, "were insituted of God for the benefit of man, and he holds men accountable for their acts in relation to them, for the good and safety of society. No govern-

512 IMPROVEMENT ERA ment can exist in peace, except such laws are framed and held inviolate as will secure to each individual the free exercise of conscience, the right and control of property, and the protection of life." Such men "as will administer the law in equity and justice should be sought for and upheld by the voice of the people. All men are bound to sustain and uphold their governments, while protected in their in- herent and inalienable rights by the laws. Sedition and rebellion are unbecoming every citizen thus protected. Every man should be honored in his station" in the government. The "Mormon" people are committed to a democracy by the very terms of. their religion. Only this form of government can carry out perfectly their ideals of "the free agency of man." Free agency is absolutely fundamental to "Mormonism." The spirits in heaven were free. They had their individual "rights," and were protected in these rights. As a matter of fact, the contest between Lucifer and Jesus in the ante-mortal state turned upon the question, whether men should be free in their earth-life. Satan's plan was to take away man's agency; Christ's, to leave him in possession of it. And our Savior's plan prevailed. Without free agency there can be no real growth in the individual. Or, to put it less dogmatically, there is always more development if the spirit is left free to choose between two alternatives than if it is fettered in any way from without. And this applies to civil government as well as to life generally. In the "Mormon" belief the American nation was founded under divine guidance, for the express purpose of establishing freedom in human government and the rule of the people. This declaration is made in the Book of Mormon and in the Doctrine and Covenants. Columbus and the Puritan fathers were led thither by the Spirit of God. "It is not right that one man should be in bondage to another." And to this end God "established the Constitution" of the United States, by "the hands of wise men," whom he "raised up" for the purpose, and "redeemed the land by the shedding of blood." The "God of the land" is Jesus Christ, and the nation is warned to "serve him" in humility and truth on pain of losing its independence. Democracy as represented by the American nation is therefore part and parcel of the religion and the life of the Latter-day Saints. No people are so unalterably committed to this form of government as they are. They are therefore patriotic in a very deep sense, be- cause, if they keep the commandments of God, they "have no need to break the laws of the land." Where incidents in their history seem to be in contradiction of this statement, they are so in appearance only and not in reality. It is safe to say that there is no more loyal Community in America than the Latter-day Saint§, (To be continued)

"HE THAT WOULD BE GREATEST" By Mary H. Woolsey I Where the blue waters of the fair river Ylom curl gently about the foothills of the green Kolethian mountains, coursing through grassy pastures, cool woodlands and fertile brown farms, there lies the tiny kingdom of Tivrania, in position and politics quite apart from the surrounding nations. On three sides rise the mountains, and since it is neither great enough nor wealthy enough to attract many vis- itors to itself, and since there are easier routes around it than through it, strangers seldom appear there. Wisely kept out of entangling alli- ances with other kingdoms or provinces, Tivrania kept on its ac- customed ways when its neighbors were torn by war, and knew only vaguely of the desolation and terrors that lay beyond its beloved Kolethians. Yet there came one day, into this haven of peace and modest prosperity, one called Arad; fleeing, if he had wished to tell it, from scenes where he was becoming too well known as an enemy of order and justice. Hustled from place to place, Arad came at last into Tivrania and was amazed at the undisturbed prosperity that he found. Cattle and sheep grazing in the meadows; peasant girls singing in their little gardens, and men behind their plows and oxen in the fields; for the spring had come to Tivrania, and these simple folk were glad to be out and at their toil. Outside the royal estate, called Varna, Arad paused to admire the well-built stone walls, the gray palace, and the smaller houses round about; the broad driveway with its border of evergreen trees. And with his admiration came envy, and a coveting of all he saw. At dusk he reached Urtutz, largest and most important ol the Tivranian villages, and was directed to the little brown old inn at its center, and when he had rested awhile and had supped generously, he felt very gay and good-natured, although his mind was already busy with scheming. Soon the men gathered at the inn, as was their custom, to while away the hours with song and story, and to drink now and then of the mild rich wine from the Tivranian vineyards. Over it Arad smacked thick lips, and proceeded to ingratiate himself with the vil- lagers by telling them stories the like of which they had never heard before. Tales of the seas, of the tropics, of deserts, of polar ice fields; of perils in the jungle, of adventures in unknown mountain fastnesses. The peasants listened with mouths agape. "Man, he tells a better tale than Shumla himself!" exclaimed Zoiran, the cobbler, and a general murmur of agreement arose. Arad's laugh, softly boastful, was interrupted by a voice at the doorway; "Who is this that tells so fine a tale?"

514 IMPROVEMENT ERA The merrymakers turned quickly with shouts of welcome. "Shumla! 'Tis Shumla! Welcome, comrade!" And '"Tis high time you should appear, you jolly vagabond!" And they made place for him with many expressions of good fellowship. Arad, for the moment entirely ignored, watched this good-look- ing newcomer through narrowed eyelids, and listened while the men plied him with eager questions: where had he been since last he left Urtutz? Whom had he seen? What learned? To all of which Shumla answered not at all, but laughed and said they should per- haps hear some other time. Then, banteringly, "But you have been listening to better tales than mine, anyway. Who is this that tells them?" All eyes turned toward Arad, who lowered his eyes and shrug- ged disparagingly. "Merely one who wanders into strange places and far corners of the earth and has a way of getting into many sorts of scrapes and out again," he said with fine carelessness. Shumla looked at him for a moment, more closely, perhaps, than anyone realized; then suddenly glancing around, he asked: "Where is Lago? Why is he not here?" "Oh, Lago!" chuckled Datmir the inn-keeper. "Lago, prob- ably, is at the house of Misivri, no doubt becoming expert at holding soft skeins for Misivri' s daughter." "Ah, yes — the fair Amadra," Shumla joined in the low laughter. "Well — when Lago comes home he will find something beside his fire," and in spite of protests, Shumla took his leave. When he had quite disappeared, Arad asked a few cautious ques- tions regarding him, which no one seemed able to answer intelligently. Shumla was Shumla, — no more; he spent all his time wandering, they thought; came to Urtutz occasionally, helping the peasants willingly and well, asking nothing in return save food and companionship; shared bed and fire of Lago — who, it seemed, was his warm friend; and presently would be gone again, none knew exactly where. The stories he told? Legends, mostly; sometimes he spoke of Poland, or Rumania, or Bulgaria, or Austria. But he had not seen such far, won- derful places as had Arad — and there they began begging for more stories, and yet more; until the young moon hung low above the mountains, and they strolled homeward with words of the morrow's tasks awaiting. Lago, leaving the house of Misivri, the merchant, walked slowly through the soft misty moonlight, his thoughts dwelling tenderly on the rare sweetness of Amadra; and what a lucky dog he should be, if — had he seen, or merely imagined, a softer, lovelier expression be- neath the mischief in her dark eyes? How the thought of her thrilled him, quickened his blood, made him drunk with the wonder of liv- ing! Thus his thoughts ran on, until he became aware of bright fire- light flickering through his house windows, and hurried faster to investigate.

"HE THAT WOULD BE GREATEST' 515 Shumla lay drowsing on a fur rug before the fire; he turned sleepy eyes as Lago entered, then sprang up to greet him. "Shumla! Ah — but I am glad to see you, old friend!" ex- claimed Lago. "And I to be here with you, Lago. You've kept me waiting, too. Was the skein then so long?" He was amused at Lago's dis- comfiture. "A fine lover you are — to blush so easily! But mind, Lago, I'd willingly be in your shoes myself — being not unaware of the maiden's charms." Early the following morning, before the sun had yet scattered the low-hanging mists, they walked side by side to the meadows where Lago's sheep — the finest flock in Tivrania, it was said — had been guarded during the night by the great shaggy dogs. As they walked along, Shumla spoke of Arad. "I like not his eyes, Lago. They are not eyes I should trust, I think." "Why is he here, Shumla?" "He would not say — except that he is an habitual wanderer and adventurer, constantly seeking the far corners of the earth." "Well, then, that has he found — a far corner; quite the coziest corner of all, to my notion," laughed Lago. "Still I doubt if Arad is our friend. — The flock grows and grows, Lago." They had passed over a little knoll and the sheep were in full view; Lago smiled in pardonable pride. "Seven score new lambs there are, Shumla, and all as pretty as one could wish." The dogs came bounding to meet them, and they stroked the shaggy heads and then threw down the packages they had brought, laughing to see the dogs tear away the wrappings to get at the meaty bones within. "Lago, Lago! Do you know how lucky you are?" exclaimed Shumla, drawing a deep breath of the dewy air. Lago did not an- swer, for he knew that no answer was expected. They stood there gazing over the peaceful country-side: field after fertile field, some showing pale green with the early grain; others brown, as yet unsown; to these two, who had looked upon the scene a thousand times, it was a never-ending delight. "Can you not stay here, Shumla? There will always be a place for you," urged Lago; but even as he spoke, he knew what the an- swer would be, for he had heard it many times before: a sigh, and the words, "No — soon I must be away to look after my business." Lago said no more, for experience had taught him that further speech on the subject was unnecessary and unavailing. All that day they spent in the meadow, now among the sheep, now lolling on the soft grass, now sitting on the green banks while the blue Ylom slipped softly past. When the sun set, they gathered the sheep together in a sheltered place, set the dogs around, and went back to Lago's house at the edge of the village.

516 IMPROVEMENT ERA That evening, dressed in their best, the young people gathered at the inn to dance, to the music of Olgetz, the fiddler — strange, weird music, and dancing wild but full of a lithe grace and interesting flashes of color: the men in white blouses and trousers and richly ornamented waistcoats of bright hue, with here and there a glint of gold or silver thread; the maids in long white smocks, vivid jackets and embroidered aprons. Arad at first stood apart, envious of the welcome accorded to Shumla, who joined the dancers from the first; but presently growing bolder, Arad begged a dance of Amadra — thereby gaining, besides the dance, the suspicious dislike of Lago as well. "He is no mean dancer," declared Amadra, and Arad was im- mediately adjudged eligible to dance with any girls he wished, while their lovers looked on jealously. But he so busied himself with ways to win their good will that little by little their suspicions were melt- ing away; and Arad knew, cunningly, that soon he would be liked by many as well as Shumla was — although Shumla and Lago assumed no friendliness toward him. The next day was the Sabbath, and the villagers gathered at the little mossy stone church to pray and listen to the teachings of the venerable blind priest, Father Saghra. And the next day, back to their toil for the week — for this was life in Tivrania, filled with simple wholesome duties and joys, enriched and mellowed by good fellow- ship and contentment. Throughout the next fortnight Shumla remained at or near Urtutz, lending a helping hand wherever he went, speaking words 01 cheer, and listening to the plans and hopes of the peasants. Without exception, they opened their hearts to him, told him their joys and their sorrows, as they would have told to no other. Arad, too, remained to make himself popular — but his method was the way of the gold or silver pieces which he scattered generously, and the fascinating tales he told, which made him seem such a hero in the eyes of the unlearned peasants. * When a month had passed, he announced that he had no intention of leaving so delightful a place as Urtutz. Then, one day, word came that the young King Maros would visit Urtutz. How the village was thrown into a state of joyous ex- citement! Arad's lips curled scornfully as he watched the hustle of preparation — the cleaning, the setting to rights, the evident pride of the people in their monarch. He stood among them as they waited to do homage to their king, in an attitude of contempt which no one noticed, so absorbed were they all in the approach of the royal pro- cession. A handful of soldiers; the king, wistfully handsome, alone; the few nobles of his court — all on horses gayly caparisoned with silken banners and trappings decorated with gold and silver and semi-precious jewels. No wonder Arad laughed in his sleeve at the miniature dis-

"HE THAT WOULD BE GREATEST" 51? '• play of pomp and splendor! But to the Tivranians it was their king and court, glorified in song and legend as old as Europe itself ana consequently a worthy object of admiration and pride. Not until the visitors had been feted and feasted, and honored to the fullest possible extent, and were on their return journey to Varna, did anyone pay the least attention to Arad. Then, "Is our king not wonderful, Arad?" "Oh, so-so. I have no interest in kings." The peasants gasped at that, and formed in a group close around him, demanding explanations. He chose his words carefully, and spoke in the most casual manner, as if entirely disinterested. "Ah, well! The day of kings and emperors is past. They are selfish; they take the best and finest of all the land can produce, and give nothing in return save a pretty sight for worshiping eyes. So at last the people rebel, and in place of a king, select a premier or presi- dent or minister from among themselves — one who can know their needs." Immediately there arose a storm of protests: King Maros was not selfish, not proud; he came among them at their homes to inquire of their well-being; gave to them trinkets and sometimes gold, and sweet- meats for the children; and at times invited them all to Varna for celebration and festivals. And did he not carefully attend to the wel- fare of his people? Arad laughed — a whithering gust of scornful merriment. Gone now was his careless manner; he spoke impatiently: "Ho! 'the wel- fare of his people!' How does he know your needs? — When he speaks to you, you are so fluttered with delight that if you were starving, you would yet answer, 'All is well!' He, sheltered in his palace, surrounded by his lazy nobles and his idle soldiers — living on the fat of the land!" "But the soldiers are not idle. They keep the brigands away, if nothing else. No one in Tivrania has been robbed for many years," spoke up Lago, his face livid with resentment. "But why?" retorted Arad. "Think you it is for you? What have you to tempt robbers? A few sheep? An ox or two?* A few yards of homespun linen? A picture painted on a mud wall with the juices of berries? Think of the jewels your nobles wear, and their silks! Of the art treasures within the palace! If robbers carried away your sheep, there would be less mutton for his majesty's table!" "But he gives us — " began Lago, to be interrupted by Arad's swifter, sharper tongue: "Yes — he gives you — a few silly baubles to buy your goodwill!" Poor, loyal, slow-witted Lago! In his heart he knew he was right, and that Arad was wrong; but he was no match for Arad's fiery arguments. He fell into moody silence, hurt by his failure before his friends, and most of all by Amadra's apparent disappointment.

518 IMPROVEMENT ERA • "But, Arad," said Datmir, "think you that we should rise against our king?" Before Arad could answer, the stern, displeased voice of Father Saghra, whose approach no one had noticed, interrupted: "For shame, my children! Know you not the voice of evil counsel? For shame, Arad! Is this why you came amongst us — to stir up discontent among our happiness?" They scattered before him like children caught in mischief; but the seed was sown, and Arad was content; while the old blind priest, left quite alone, shook his head disapprovingly as he walked up the street to his little church, his stout stick rattling the loose stones be- fore him. Yes, the seed was sown — and Arad knew it would grow. For where is the place, the condition, so perfect that you cannot find im- perfections if you search for them? A careful phrase, fraught with double meaning; a hint of luxuries possible under other political ar- rangements; a finger pointing out a new short-coming of their govern- ment— these were sunlight, air, water to the weed of discontent. Once started, the dissatisfaction crept from village to village, until all Tivrania was seething with unrest. Lago, during an evening at Misivri's house, when Father Saghra was present, spoke of the impending insurrection. "Why should Tivrania rise up against the king?" he cried. "We are not oppressed, not tax-ridden; we have plenty for our simple needs. What more would we wish?" "Ah, that is not the trouble, Lago," answered the priest. "It is a sad thing to be in actual need; but one suffers hardly less just to think one's self in need. These people have plenty, but think they should have more; and Arad has made them believe that it is the king's fault that they have not." "Arad tells only the bright portion of the consequences of revo- lution— not the half of it," spoke up Misivri, who was usually quiet and backward. "I saw the other in Austria — stealing, killing, starv- ing; farms turned into battle-grounds. It is enough to make war when it is forced or justified; but for the sake of fancied grievances — bah! it makes me tired." "Tell them, Misivri — tell the people what you have seen!" beg- ged Lago. "What — I?" gasped Misivri. "I — speak to a crowd — when away from my own fireside I become a stuttering fool or a dumb clod?" "'Twould be useless, too," said Father Saghra. "They would not listen." And the three fell into silence. Amadra, sitting a little apart, near her mother, heard little that the men said. She was thinking of how Arad had swung her in a glorious dance, adoring her as if she had been a goddess; of how he had told her of satins and jewels that would set off her rare beauty;

"HE THAT WOULD BE GREATEST" 519 of a silken scarf and a topaz necklace which he had begged her to accept as his gift to her; wondering what her father would say if she should openly encourage Arad's attentions. It would be fun, no doubt, to make Lago jealous; he was too slow, too sure — the rogue! But Lago was not slow to see, not sure where Amadra was con- cerned. He knew well that Arad was seeking Amadra' s favor; he feared lest the slick tongue might win too much. In his unhappiness he grew more and more silent, withdrew to himself; and the girl said to herself hotly, "He does not care!" Lago wished that Shumla would come; but when he did come, in late summer-time when haying-tasks were at hand, he seemed so ill at ease, so unhappy in the unfamiliar atmosphere of disconttnt and sullenness, that Lago was miserable for him and felt relieved when Shumla had gone again. Then came a day when a blooded stallion broke away from the royal stables and charged off and away over the country roads; head high, nostrils wide in the joy of freedom, mane and tail flying, peb- bles clattering beneath his thundering hoofs. The peasants, at work in their grain-fields, gasped in amazement and fear, and some pursued in the hope of capturing him before mischief should be done. Faster and faster he came, growing wilder with every effort to increase his speed. Into the narrow street in Urtutz he galloped; the children scat- tered in terror before him. And amid the confusion, the screams, the cries of horror, the little son of Olgetz, the fiddler, stumbled and fell directly in the stallion's path; crying out in agony as a heavy hoof struck squarely upon him. The animal sped on as if the child had been merely a stone. When the old doctor had come and eased the little fellow's pain, but had muttered that he would never walk again, panic and tears changed to uproar and curses. Arad seized the chance: "Why does not the king look after his beasts? See how little he cares for your safety or your lives!" Unreasonable? — Yes — and he knew it. But it was the torch to already kindled fires of passion, — the passion that takes no time to reason nor consider. Arad took charge; sent messengers to other villages with orders to arm and march against their heartless king. The iron was hot, and Arad knew when to strike. All night, by the light of huge bonfires, they worked feverishly to make ready their rude weapons: heavy old muskets, swords, clubs. For the first time, Father Saghra's pleadings were entirely ignored, and tears welled up in his sightless eyes as he wandered miserably about. As for Lago, when he ventured to suggest that they should be calm and not act in rash haste, he was jeered wildly — for was it not well known that he was jealous of Arad's friendship with Amadra? So Lago, wretched in the extreme, slipped away to the field and spent the night in loneliness and despair. (Part II in May Number)