The White Clouds

THE WHITE CLOUDS By Samuel Fletcher Clouds of gray, of crimson, of black, of white, Harry knew them all. In fact, he was something of a connoisseur of clouds. In his mind was a black cloud, with possibly a silver lining. Over his head drifted the white clouds of springtime. From his fingers trailed a gray cloud of cigarette smoke. Singly, by twos, by groups, the people were returning from church. It had been months since Harry had attended any kind of religious service. Places of worship no longer seemed attractive; for since he had begun to smoke, religion had been steadily de- generating. It seemed that his senses had become keener, for he could now see flaws and discrepancies where but a few mon.ths previous he could see only the perfect order of God. Why didn't these people open their eyes? How could they help but see the glaring1 ab- surdities that were thrown in their faces? He scrutinized them as they passed along the walk. Most of them seemed intelligent enough. There was Mr. Howe, the banker, and John Wilson, a leading merchant. Both were shrewd and exact in business. But evidently they accepted their religion as it was handed out to them from the rostrum. Even Ora — he saw her coming along the walk — she, too, "swal- lowed" it all. She was a school teacher, home on a week-end visit, She smiled to him as she approached. He threw away his cigarette butt and strolled down the path to join her. "The gallant gentleman begs to be allowed to see the fair damsel to her home," he greeted. "It seems," she smiled, "that the gallant gentleman doesn't venture far from the shade of his apple trees, or perhaps, at this time of the year I should say the sunshine of his own back porch." "Truly an unfair judgment since I didn't know you were home," he replied as they walked on together. "You seem to have wandered into the bywavs," said Ora. "I haven't seen you at meeting for ever so long. Surely you're not deserting to the foe?" "Oh no. Not really deserting. Just watching the fight from the hilltop. You see there one gets a much better view. But, seriously, I have lost interest in the Church. I've found that re- ligion won't stand careful inspection." They walked on in silence for some time. He watched her through the corner of his eye and envied the sunshine and wind that were kissing her hair. His hand went unconsciously to his pocket and brought out a cigarette. He felt awkward when he

THE WHITE CLOUDS 645 noticed it, for he had not intended to smoke in Ora's presence. "With your permission," he mumbled as he put the cigarette to his lips and began to search his pockets for a match. Ora nodded. "It seems to me," she said after a pause, "that one should be unable to see clearly enough through a haze of tobacco smoke to judge correctly." "Oh, much to the contrary," he answered glibly. As they stopped before the gate of Ora's home, Harry gave her hand a squeeze. "Only another month, he said significantly. Then after a pause he added, "You don't seem very enthusiastic." "I was just wondering," she said, "if the black cloud of un- belief in your mind and the smoke from your cigarettes would smother your love for me as it has for the gospel." "Oh, no. Hardly that bad," he laughed uneasily. "I don't know. You promised when I was home before that you would give them up. What if I should keep my promises to you in the same manner. Why should you expect me to keep them?" He felt he could give no adequate answer. His mind seemed slow and numb. The cigarettes were failing him when he needed them most — just when he wished to appear his best. "Sorry I can't ask you in," Ora said abruptly, "but I must get ready to go back to my flock of kiddies. School in the morning, you know." She hurried into the house leaving Harry to stare stupidly after her. Why had she left him like this? he wondered. Did she really have to spend all afternoon getting ready to leave or was she dis- gusted with him? Had she meant what she said about breaking her promise? He turned and walked slowly toward the outskirts of the town. He still held the cigarette butt between his fingers. He held it up and looked at it as though he had just seen it for the first time. What a silly-looking thing it was for a grown man to be carry- ing around! A little poison wrapped in a little piece of paper for a budding god to suck to keep up his courage! A toy that he might make little gray clouds of smoke! And yet he, who needed a "pacifier" the same as a baby, had set himself up to judge the way of God. He threw the cigarette butt down and ground it into the soil with his heel. Then, he climbed a fence and wandered out through the fields. Ora was right. He had been looking on life through a haze of tobacco smoke, while a black cloud of doubt gathered in his mind. He had accumulated a lot of snap-judgments and in his stupidity had imagined them to be weighty facts. Abruptly he stopped. He seated himself on a ditchbank and took from his pocket his package of cigarettes. He arranged them slowly and carefully into a little pyramid and applied a lighted match

646 IMPROVEMENT ERA With a glow of triumph he watched the gray smoke writhe about like a wounded snake in the agonies of death. Slowly it grew thinner and weaker until nothing was left but a little mound of gray ashes. Then Harry knew that the black cloud in his mind had a silver lining. He turned his face toward the white clouds of springtime and asked God for strength. And he knew his prayer would be answered. Preston, Idaho The M. I. A. Slogan Honor thy father and mother, Israel's children were told When the Lord spoke unto Moses, From the mount in days of old. Ever give love and reverence To those who gave thee birth, Then will the Lord reward thee And lengthen thy days on earth. Honor thy father and mother, Make it your motto each day; It is the Lord's commandment, One that we must obey. Unto your parents ever Go in your time of need. Twin Falls, Idaho. To their advice and counsel Listen and always heed. Honor thy father and mother, Go to them now and say : Father, Mother, I owe you More than I ever can pay. Honor and love I'll give you All my days shall be spent In the endeavor to bring you Happiness and content." Honor thy father and mother. Thy parents who gave thee birth, Then shall thy days of living Be lengthened upon the earth. S. A. PURRINGTON. We Want, We Long to do the Right We want the right, oh, Father dear, Be worthy of thy Father love; We come with humble hearts sincere, Hear thou our pleadings from above, Guide us ,away from tempting snares; And, Father, hear our suppliant prayers; Keep us by day, and hold by night; We want, we long to do the right. We thank thee for thy love divine, For teachings brought us, old and new, For beauties found in field, on hill, Grant thou our acts shall prove us true. Though thoughtless oft, we try to live Conforming to the laws you give. We strive to serve with all our might ; We want, we long to do the right. Deweyville, Utcih. M. Dewey.