--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Stanford, N. Glenn collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 30 number: 11 published: 1927-09 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "N. Glenn Stanford, “A Daughter of Laman,” *Improvement Era* 30, no. 11 (September 1927): 993–1002." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera30011unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera30011unse start_page: 993 end_page: 1002 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1927-09) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera30011unse publication_year: 1927 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1927, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # A Daughter of Laman A DAUGHTER OF LAMAN By N. Glenn Stanford Far away from the usual haunts of men, in the heart of the Can- adian Rockies, there lies a large tract of land. Here the brawling moun- tain streams, broken by hurtling waterfalls, vie with the majestic moun- tains with their pine slopes in making it a veritable paradise for the lovers of nature. Because of its position and unrivalled grandeur the Canadian Government has set it apart as a national park for the people of Canada and their visitors. The park officials were equal to their task in making of it a play- ground to be envied. The guides — Swiss and Native — are the kind one reads of in story books, and the canoeing, fishing and hunting all savor of the virgin wilderness. At a table in the spacious lounge sat a pretty girl with two young men. They had just returned from an extended tour of the more re- mote parts of the park and were sipping with relish from some glasses of soda water. "Well, can you beat it!" ejaculated one of the men, and the other man and the girl followed his admiring gaze. Hurrying from table to table with a spritely step, her long black hair woven into thick braids and hanging to her waist, was a slender girl in Indian costume. "Look! Alf; I am sure she is a half-breed, at least, for she has slightly high cheek bones, and that hair isn't artificial," said the girl. Alf rapped on the table and the girl in question came over. She stood shyly by as if conscious of their thoughts; then she spoke: "I weel take the order, please." It was a musical voice with a slight French accent. "You're sure a pretty kid." The other young man drawled the words mechanically. A deep flush began to rise in the cheeks of the waitress. "The lodge guest will please mind his own beesness," she' retorted in an icy tone, and walked haughtily away. "Say, Leta, I wonder who she can be," mused Alf. "I knbw! Let's go ask the clerk." "She's a full-blood Stony Indian, and as far as we know she's an orphan," he replied to their query and calmly resumed his work at the desk. "But what makes her so white, and what is her name?" persisted Leta in an interested tone. The Clerk looked up impatiently. "Her name is Louise Bear-Paw, and as far as her complexion is concerned, I can't understand; I suppose it's her superior mode of liv- ing; but then, lots of Indians are becoming more fair nowadays." 994 IMPROVEMENT ERA As the man seemed indisposed to further conversation, Leta de- cided to become acquainted with the girl. "Louise Bear-Paw;" what a beautiful girl, and what an odd name. As Louise dusted the candy counter next morning she was sur- prised by the appearance of the young lady whom she had noticed the night before. "Good morning, Louise!" greeted Leta, chummily. "You seem to be an early riser." "It's you, Miss, that's the early bird," Louise replied, and con- tinued her dusting. "May I help you?" The words were accompanied by such a winning smile that the Indian girl reluctantly surrendered one of her dusting cloths. For half an hour Leta chatted gaily about the local happenings; but the Indian girl remained nonchallant. Finally, however, when the conversation turned to the park and it's animal life, Louise's face brightened. It was plain to see that she did not trust all of the tourists, but there was something about this girl from the city that seemed to break down her barricade of reserve and make her feel as if she was really "some one." "I do love your hair!" said Leta, with enthusiasm, after a short period of silence. "What a contrast," and she stroked her own bobbed tresses with a laugh. Louise tilted her chin proudly. "I'm an Indian, and all of our people have nice hair." "Why don't you do it up? I am sure you would look just won- derful!" "They will not let me here. The Manager, he say: "You must wear your hair like one real squaw.' Besides I do not know how to fix my hair like your women, all coily and fluffy like," and she shrug- ged her slim shoulders. "Let me help you," Leta pleaded; "Oh, I am sure it would be simply glorious." "You will soon go; in one week the summer season will be up then I shall go also." "But where will you go?" asked the city girl, curiously. "In the winter I stay with Mrs. Fletcher, down yonder, and go to school." "Have you a teacher' yet?" Leta asked, hopefully, "I am a fully qualified teacher and I would so like to stay in this beautiful country. Oh, it would be such sport!" The board of trustees did not have a teacher, and they readily accepted the offer of Leta Burridge to teach for the term; her duties to commence in one month. Two months later found the two girls in Louise's little attic bed- room. They both stayed with Mrs. Fletcher and already they had be- come fast friends. Leta had found her work very interesting. Her A DAUGHTER OF.LAMAN 99 5 classes consisted of five white children, three Indian boys and one little Japanese boy, the son of the Hotel cook. Louise was her oldest pupil and proved to be very bright and receptive. Indeed, now that the tan was leaving "her face, Leta found it hard to believe that she had any Indian blood in her at all. "Do you think my hair suits me this way?" asked Louise, glanc- ing sidelong into the mirror. "It makes my head look so large." Leta was busy adjusting a narrow belt about Louise's shapely waist. She finished by smoothing down the skirt, then arose to view her handiwork. "I am afraid your head will grow still larger, if I continue to flatter you; but really, you do look sweet; one would think you had just arrived' from Montreal," and Leta sighed with admiration. "I hope Fred likes it,' for he said he was going to take me out where his people are; and, Oh, Miss Burridge, he says that my people were not always dark but that a long time ago they were a 'white and delightsome people;' yes, those are the very words he used." That night when Leta found Mrs. Fletcher alone in th'e kitchen she asked her about this strange young man who took so much interest in an Indian girl. "He's a guide who has charge of the longest route in the park; I've only seen him twice. I suppose he met Louise at the Hotel. But then," she added, "all the young men are attracted by her." "Well, I don't see why he should deliberately raise false hopes in the innocent girl's heart by lying to her," Leta snapped back, and rushed into the other room. As she came through the door she almost bumped into a young man who was standing with his back to her. He was talking with Louise, complimenting her; and she was looking up at him with such adorable eyes. He wore riding boots, and spurs, and his hair which needed cutting badly reached to the collar of his buckskin jacket. Louise introduced him as Fred Clayson, and, for the brief mo- ment that Leta's hand rested in his, he looked into her eyes; and she looked back. Acquaintances are easily formed in the mountain country. It isn't customary to question a person's business or character in the land of the big snows. Many a rancher and hunter there was who had started life anew and was trying to live and forget. And so, fifteen minutes later they were seated before the big grate. Fred seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of thrilling stories, and his experience as a guide had made him very proficient in telling them. Leta eventually saw her chance. "You just mentioned some Indians; please tell me what your opinion is, regarding the origin of their race." The young man looked at Louise. She, too, leaned forward as if interested. For a moment he gazed into red embers of the fire as if in their fiery glow he hoped to find an answer. Finally, he pulled 996 IMPROVEMENT ERA himself into a more comfortable position and looking at the Indian girl tenderly, began: "My personal opinions are not some of my own formulation. They are included in the tenets of my religion, and I believe them just as I believe that I- live. Louise's forefathers were at one time a chosen people of the Lord; they were of the Seed of Abraham and, therefore, were heirs to the promise. But I will start at the beginning." For an hour Fred talked to them in smooth measured tones. He told them of the departure of Lehi from Jerusalem, of their journey across the waters to America and of the merciful way in which God dealt with this favored people. He told of the dissension which arose among them, and how one faction was cursed with a dark skin; how they builded cities and inhabited them; of the visitation of Christ after his crucifixion; and, while they listened, breathless and wide-eyed, he related the story of the last great battle in the land of Cumorah, which terminated in the destruction of the fair skinned Nephites. "But these dark survivors were promised that if they would again turn unto their God and keep his commandments, their skin would again become white and the curse would be withdrawn from them. This is happening today, and it fills me with awe as I watch our dusky brethren reclaim their heritage, and as a result become more fair. You see," he added, "I am a 'Mormon.' "A 'Mormon'!" for the space of a second the coquettish Leta sat speechless with surprise; then, cleverly mastering her amazement, she cast him a little side-long glance; slowly her lips quirked into an amused smile and she regarded him curiously. "I've always been looking forward to the time when I would meet a real live 'Mormon,' and," she added, "do you konw, I am really disappointed. I had imagined so many things that I would do and say when that eventful day should arrive, but instead, I have been sitting here like a credulous school-girl, blissfully absorbed in a most enthralling story; and what is more," she confessed eagerly, "I really believe it — every word." Louise's eyes were joyous. "I am so happy," she breathed. Slowly the rugged mountain youth arose to his feet, and, cross- ing to his pack bags in the corner, removed a well worn leather bound book. "It is a more detailed history of the wanderings of the people whom we have just discussed," he said in answer to their questioning looks, "In it you will find an account of the events associated with their lives as they actually happened. It is called the Book of Mormon and is the publication whence our nickname is derived. You may read it if you care to." "Oh, let's read it together!" cried Louise, impulsively; and Leta readily assented. Before giving them the book, Fred turned to the back of it and with a stubby pencil marked a passage. "It is the admonition of Moroni, the son of Mormon, who wrote the concluding chapters of the A DAUGHTER OF LAM AN 99 7 divine record. I call it my testimony," he continued, huskily, "be- cause I followed the advice given there and the divinity of the record was so deeply inscribed on the fly-leaf of my soul that I can never again doubt it. In the months that followed, the two girls perused the whole volume. They took turns 'at reading* and even the Fletcher family became so engrossed in the strange narrative that they forgot their winter's supply of novels in the crude book case and joined the girls by the fire in their nightly class. Spring came, and then Summer. The two young women had de- veloped burning testimonies of the truth to be found in the pure un- adulterated principles of Christianity as taught by the Latter-day Saints. Leta informed her parents of her intentions regarding baptism, and after an extended investigation of the "Mormon" doctrines, they reluctantly consented. She contracted to teach until Christmas in the next Fall term and then prepared to spend her vacation with parents and relatives in Vancouver. The parting scene between the two girls was touching. Louise was a forlorn looking little figure as she gazed wistfully up at her friend leaning from the carriage window. Her coiffure was perfect, and her raven hair — waved and shiny — lent a pallid light to her clear cut features. There was a little note of pathos in her voice when she spoke; "I am so happy — and yet very sad. It seems that I have known you always." "I am sure that we have known each other always," replied Leta, sagely. Then she smiled from sheer happiness. "I, too, am happy, and yet sad; but remember, I will be back in six weeks. While I am away I am going to be one of those missionaries Fred speaks of." She laughed mischievously and produced a well thummed bible from her hand-bag. When the School Teacher returned from her vacation she was simply bubbling over with suppressed excitement and information. "Mother and Daddy are tremendously interested!" she exclaimed, when all of the embraces and formalities incident to her arrival were over and she was left alone with Mrs. Fletcher and Louise. "And now I am going to spring a surprise; I am sure you could never guess in ages, so I will just let my tongue ramble until I am run down. Well, to begin with, I visited our Temple at Cardston, and oh, Louise, it is just grand. They are just completing it so we all went through. It is simply gorgeously decorated, and outside they have fountains and pools with the dearest little colored fishes in them. Away back in the dis- tance the Big Chief mountain looms up like a guardian angel and makes one feel so insignificant in its majestic presence. For a time I was tempted by some of the most ridiculous paganistic impulses; I could have prostrated myself in obeisance to the demigod of nature. But, of course, I regard the temple as a divine edifice, and really, one feels 998 IMPROVEMENT ERA imbued with so sacred a feeling as one stands in the shadow of its awe- inspiring walls." Louise was rapturous; her hungry soul was fairly feasting on the enthusiasm of the other, and her dark eyes were sparkling. "Oh Leta! and is it standing like a sentinel on a hill? Are its walls all white and shining, like Fred said they were?" "Its all of that and more," the city girl replied, and then she pro- ceeded to give a detailed description of its location as well as its interior. "I would have been baptized, had we not decided that we would have the ceremony performed together," and she smiled lovingly at Louise. Again, Autumn came with all its joy and fears, and again, like a bird of passage, Fred returned from the other side of the mountains. Leta was assisting the Indian girl with her first year high school, al- though she was obliged to do her studying at home. The two girls no longer visited the opening in the forest where it was their wont to study gospel doctrine. Time would not permit. But, together, the three at- tended the periodical dances and celebrations given at the big hostelry and their friendship grew until it was evident that something, must happen. It is not customary for mountain women to be fickle. Their sentiments are not influenced by the wine and merriment found in the social whirl of modern civilization. But even in the back woods men and women love, and that love becomes a part of their very existence. . And so, in this secluded mountain resort, when the pleasure seekers were cuddled about their fires in the city and the air was becoming chill be- fore the dread advance of Winter, there was enacted an odd human drama; a drama involving strange psychological phenomena. It re- volved about the eternal triangle — the love of two for one; two inti- mate heart friends, yet rivals in love, but both rejoicing in the happiness of the other. Louise's heart was torn between its conflicting emotions. Her regard for the new found gospel was too great and divine to allow re- sentment to spring up in her heart towards her friend. She loved Leta, and, after all, did the two not belong to each other because of their birthright? For the first time she cursed in her heart the fate that had made her a descendant of Laman. She could not understand the interest Fred took in her friend and wrongfully interpreted it as love. But then, who could help loving the loyal, attractive Leta? In her depression she forgot the horse-hair bracelet that Fred had given her as a symbol of his fidelity; she forgot all else but that she was in the way, and that she owed them so much. With this in mind, she mounted her pinto pony one morning and, leaving behind her a hastily scribbled note, turned its face toward the West — where dwelt the powerful Stony nation, the people of her father. For miles she rode, blinded — disheartened. When her tired mount ceased to respond to her booted heel she cut him again and again with the ends of the rawhide reins. Finally she reached the belt of pines A DAUGHTER OF LAMAN 999 her Sanctum. It was the only synagogue she had ever entered and its roofless domain had become holy to her because it was associated with her new-found creed. Here, surrounded by the vast solitudes and whispering pines, she fought for strength; from her heart she cried out to the God of her adoption: "Is there no hope for such as we, is our heritage of no value!' Has it been decreed that my people should suffer for all time!" Overcome by emotion, and shame because of her lack of faith, the impulsive Indian maiden slid from her spent horse and, falling to her knees beside it, nestled her cold brow and raven hair against its sweet- coated fore-leg. For several moments she knelt thus, then, with a peaceful heart she mounted and rode silently away. Fred carried the penciled note to the school house and with a heavy heart desired Leta to read it. As her eyes wandered over the lines, so loving and pathetic in their brevity, they filled with tears. She looked up into Fred's tell-tale face. "I understand, and I, too, love her," she sobbed. A cruel ice-bound Winter spent amid stinking wickiups, dying horses, and starving countrymen, — countrymen, who in their mad- ness for food were rendered unreceptive to the message which she brought them, dealt harshly with the sensitive emotions of Louise, leaving her spirit scarred and careworn. She looked at the past happy years down a long misty aisle of yesterdays, beclouded by the shadows of subsequent events; seeming vividly unreal in their nearness, and yet distractingly far away. To her devoted mind, the man she loved had become a vague, elusive phantom; at times very close, then fading quickly away, according to her moods. At last the pain of it all became unbearable. She must find the ones who shared her knowledge of the gospel. Accordingly, one sweet balmy morning when the snow was fast melting and there was a tinge of Spring in the air, she arranged her hair about her head in coils, patted it into position with loving hands and, after dressing in the riding at- tire which she had worn at her arrival, she mounted her gaunt horse and betook her way eastward, toward the land of her former happiness. Throughout the ages the skilful touch of the artist's brush has worked scenic miracles on the canvas. Thousands of people yearly for- sake their city homes to wander in freedom among the nameless mount- ains of the west. They invade with awe the treasure house of nature, admiring more rapturously each new scene that opens before them. But Louise was unaware of the picture she made as she sat silhouetted against the western sky on a late afternoon. Her worn horse was the picture of dejection as it stood with its tired muscles relaxed and its nose almost even with its fetlocks. Yet, in spite of the trying journey, the petite figure of the Indian girl sat the pony gracefully — a grace which even a breaking heart could not alter. Far below her the wild turbulent waters of the river dashed, its foam-crested waves merciless and forbidding in the throes of a spring flood. Louise saw all of this 1000 IMPROVEMENT ERA but the fierceness of the elements did not frighten her. Many times her stout-hearted pony had carried her safely through the selfsame current, and she delighted in the swish of the water about her hips as her swimming horse snorted and blowed and almost sank from sight. A curious rabbit hopped from behind a neighboring bush and eyed her blandly. A gentle breeze, fresh from the snow-drifted mountain re- cesses, swayed the pine tops. Spring was1 coming! The wind whispered of it. The animals tried to show it by their actions; the bursting leaf buds lent a pungent frangrance to the mountain air. But Louise's thoughts were far away from such common-place things. Her eyes were misty and her face was turned in the direction of the little school house, far down the valley. Suddenly, from out a ravine, a lone horseman appeared. The girl's eyes shone with an imitation of their old luster. There was no mistaking that horse, nor the rider; and even while she watched, the approaching horse quickened its pace; the other, too, had seen and understood; only Louise could sit a horse like that. The girl wheeled her horse quickly about. She must get away! What would Fred think if he found her here! Madly she quirted her horse toward the river, her only escape, and drove him headlong into the raging flood. She laughed bitterly and thrilled as she felt her pony begin to swim. The water was swift and numerous ice-floes did not make the passage easier. She had reached mid-stream when, without warning, came a sickening thud, and she experienced the peculiar sensation felt when a swimming horse stumbles. Wildly she grasped the mane. The courageous little animal, one fore-leg shattered by some floating ice, strove blindly to carry 'on, but, powerless in such a current, it swayed slightly then rolled completely over. Louise's weak emaciated form was no match for the ice cold water; as her grasp on the reins weakened she" heard an alarmed shout from the bank and saw Fred spur his 'big black mount into the water; then a drowsy darkness eased her chilled bones and the ache in her heart. Fred emerged from the water with the dripping form of the girl he loved in his arms. After he had applied first-aid he built a huge fire. As the flames leaped heavenward and their heat penetrated the wet clothes about her, Louise made a feeble attempt to rally, but lapsed again into uncounsciousness. Fred looked down at the blanched face against his heart. He admired as of old the fine sensitive features. Her raven hair lay in glorious profusion over his arm. "Louise," he murmured, "why did you leave, my love? I needed you so much." He raised her wan face to his but before their lips met a pair of dark eyes opened. How different were those eyes. The innocent childish look had departed from them. Louise was no longer a simple Indian maiden — a daughter of Laman, only. She had gone away a girl, A DAUGHTER OF LAMAN 1001 but these were not the eyes of a care-free child; the young man saw in them the soul of a woman, tried in the fire of self-sacrifice. "Where is Leta?" The voice was strange and toneless but Fred loved her the more for the words. "She is gone, my wild flower of the forest. By now she is amongst the fascinating bright lights and glamour of the city. She is a hothouse flower, but how easy to transplant in the loamy mountain soil; she is waiting for you down there, Louise, and there is a far-away look in her eyes, a look which you only can drive from them. It is you I want, little one, but God knows we were all so happy." The girl was gazing vacantly at a distant hilltop; a slight tremor ran through her body. "Fred, I am going away; not to the Happy Hunting Grounds of my people, but to the Paradise of our God. You have made me very happy, Fred — so happy it — it h -hurts; please do not worry; I — I am not afraid, now." Her eyes closed and when she opened them again they were shin- ing; for one swift moment her spirit arose, buoyant and gushing as of old. "You will find Leta, and, Fred dear, you will tell her that Louise loved her and is happy because she is happy; then you will ask her to marry you, for she loves you — even as we love these mountains and forests of pines." "Please do not talk so, Cheerie, my beautiful," pleaded Fred, huskily, "I have found you again and we will be wondrously happy." But even as he spoke the dread reality of her words forced itself upon him, she was fast slipping. He looked at the blanched face through a film of tears; slowly her lips moved: "You are so good — so kind, but it could never be. What would your people think? You were meant for somebody else." Her voice was weak but calm when she continued: "Fred, when you are married and happy again, will you do something for me?" "Oh, yes, I would do a million things for you," he sobbed. "Please go to our temple at Cardston, the one you have told me of, and that we used to talk and dream about — the one that is all white and beautiful, and have those ordinances performed that are necessary for my salvation, for I want to be one with you — with you and Leta." "I promise," he. murmured, and held her close. Slowly, but without hesitation, her arms encircled his neck and with all her remaining strength she raised her lips to his in one last caress, the sweetness of which was as pure and unsullied as the gurgling springlets from which she had drunk since a child. "Lest you forget," she breathed, then her arms slowly relaxed and her head fell limp upon his arm. It seemed, to the humble forest guide, as he sat amid the surround- ings that they had both loved, with the thing he cherished most in life taken from him, that life was cruel — brutal in the extreme. He 1002 IMPROVEMENT ERA raised a haggard face and cried to the ruthless waters that rushed past: "Oh, why have I found her only to lose her again?" Then, above the shrieking of the maelstrom and the subdued roar of the cataract in the distance, the voice of the "Great Silences" answered back: "What thou hast found thou canst not lose, for the works of God are eternal." Stavely, Alberta, Canada. BOOK OF MORMON GEOGRAPHY This map properly should have be.'n placed on page 9 79 of this number of •he Era, but was; by error, omitted. It will help to clarify the text. — Ed. BOOK Alma Suggested Key T o OP MORMON GEOGRAPHY 22:27-54. Between 90 and 77, B.C.