That Mother’s Tear

THAT MOTHERS TEAR By Carter E. Grant, Jordan L. D. S. Seminary "For land's sake, mother, I never could get any sense from that book anyway! Then, besides, I have my doubts that it is all you think it to be." He would have continued, but seeing the expression on his mother's face, he qualified a little by remarking, "Of course, I don't know much about it. Possibly it is all right, but please don't ask me to take it along." Thus spoke Clifford Bates, a strong, stalwart young fellow who had just finished his third year at the university, and was now making ready to follow two of his1 companions to the Salmon River mining district. "If the other fellows should see me reading it, or even saw it in my case, they would have a lot to say. You hardly know how people who don't belong to our Church look at such things. Then, too, times are changed considerably, mother, from when you were young. Everyone now seems different, both as to their beliefs and likes. Furthermore, no one outside of our Church group gives the book an ounce of credence. And — " "Now, son!" anxiously exclaimed Mrs. Bates, "I know if you knew more about the book, you would be more careful about what you say. You needn't let everyone see you reading it or let them know what's in your traveling bag. I have been thinking, that while you were at the mines or on the train even, you will have, oh, so much time to read. I've read this book many times, Clifford. And besides, you know this was your father's." Here the mother hesitated a little, for a lump arose, making her usually steady voice tremble. "Then, tomorrow, you know — " here she left the room and busied herself in the kitchen with her son's lunch. Returning again shortly, she continued, "Please take the book, Clifford. At least turn through it during the Summer and read the passages your father marked." Although Clifford was considerate of his mother's wishes, still he had ideas of his own about what he thought he ought to read during his vacation. He began more kindly, "For you, mother dear, it might be just okeh, and, possibly, was for father also. I liked to hear the stories when I was younger, but now, I just can't but look at things differently. I know you can't understand how I feel. I guess, though, the older children have my share of religion, at least they are sure mine's all gone. Anyway, that's the way they talk. I'll have plenty to read, mother. I am taking several good books along that are based upon the best modern thought and problems. Some- time I'll turn in and give this book a good going over, but not this Summer." Seeing that her arguments were doing no good, Mrs. Bates quietly laid the books on the supper table and returned to the kitchen; and, with

1004 IMPROVEMENT ERA heavy heart over the attitude of her youngest son, began packing her best prepared sweet-meats into his lunch-box. In the other room Clifford closed the suit case and traveling bag. And the little black- leather book still rested on the white, linen cover near his empty supper plate. At midnight, Clifford was to catch the Yellowstone Special, going as far north as Idaho Falls, and here transfer for Butte, Montana; but before reaching Butte, he had to make another change for the Salmon River country. The young man looked upon his vacation trip with considerable happiness, believing he would be delighted with roughing it for one full, unrestrained Summer. It was now 10 o'clock, and as he had promised to call Edith again before leaving, he was soon at the phone chatting gaily about his coming trip. He talked of his assurance that, once up in that neck of the woods, he would find plenty of work, if not at one mine then at another; he would find a job some place, possibly he might drop back to the Park, or even go southwest into the Idaho grain fields, "You needn't worry, Edith, I'll make it, somehow." Now as Edith talked, Clifford listened, and why shouldn't he, even though he failed to agree with his sweetheart in all her ideas. He knew, however, that her ideals of life had touched his own and had helped bridge him over many a snare that seemed waiting con- stantly for him at every turn. Again, all anxiously, she was giving him a bit of good advice. "Well, for land's sake, Edith," Clifford exclaimed half accusingly, "you're as bad as mother, both just the same; nervous, anxious, looking for something terrible to happen, believing I'm always going and never coming, that I am bound to do a hundred and one things that you hate — because it's my very nature — different than the older children — breaking mother's heart — losing the faith of my parents — only one of father's boys to smoke — and I don't know what all — ." Again he had to stop and listen. Edith's sentences were reaching the right place, for Clifford's attitude had changed entirely when he spoke again. "All right, well — I'll remember. Now, don't you fail either, drop a letter in the mail tomorrow. Just send it general delivery, I'll have it the day it arrives; yes, I'll write at Pocatello. Did you say you hoped I shouldn't find Baker and Clark? Oh, pshaw, what if they don't belong to our Church, they're fine fellows, a little rough, maybe — now, Edith, don't be silly over your religious views. All right — we'll see each othsr this Fall — have a good time but watch out for J. N. — all right, Edith — good-bye." As Clifford slowly placed the phone on the stand he commented, "Edith always did get the best of the argument. Of course, it does no great damage so long as I do not let her know that she has the best of it. I hope mother did not hear all I said, she feels bad enough as it is. Clifford arose and went to the large mirror in the dining room and began adjusting a tie that seemed unsettled about the neck of his

THAT MOTHER'S TEAR 1005 new army shirt. As he gazed into the glass he saw past himself, out through the open door to the table where he had eaten his s-upper. There, in the glow of the pink shade of the standing-lamp, stood his mother, book in hand, slowly wiping her eyes as she read the in- scription on the fly leaf. Clifford would have turned and approached, making some explanation regarding the telephone conversation, but when he saw the book he hesitated. "I guess the whole thing, my leaving and all, is harder for mother and Edith than I can just see. Possibly my college work has made me a little critical, but I don't mean anything by it. I am tickled to think Edith is like mother. I'll tell mother just what I meant." Even from where he stood he could see that the darker shades of hair were about replaced by the silvery ones. It was no longer "silver threads among the gold." As the young man left for the kitchen, Mrs. Bates, not thinking that she had been seen, stepped softly into the other room and put the book back in its usual place. Cliff had seen his mother leave and knew where to find the book. "For her sake, I'll slip it into my coat pocket," he determinedly exclaimed to himself, "even if I don't read more than a few passages, it can't hurt anything." Then as good as his word, Young Bates, all unobserved, took the book from its place and on his journey. The time for departure had come. Before the open front door, Clifford set down his things fully to respond to his mother's affec- tionate good-bye. She hugged the robust boy that was now larger than herself, the last one to leave home; then she wept on his shoulder. As he kissed her she took both his cheeks in her two hands and looked him squarely in the eyes, requesting, "Come home as soon as you can, Clifford. Write often. I'll pray for you." As the young man walked hurriedly toward the car corner, he saw the light from that open door behind him still shining out across the sidewalk and on into the darkness beyond. An hour later, comfortably seated toward the rear of the car. Clifford Bates and his huge train were speeding swiftly northward. Thundering over the down grade through Woods Cross, Centerville. and Farmington, they fairly flew. No stops short of Ogdcn, all tracks were cleared. A string of freight cars on a siding, fairly swept by the open window. A half-hidden street light in the distance told where nestled sleeping villages, which in a moment were far behind. Due to the wind that whipped in, all windows were closed. On they flew. Cliff looked about him, saw no one in the car he recognized; in the one seat back of him was a gentleman with a kind appearance. The young man looked at the older traveler twice before he was sure he had never seen him before. Their eyes met, but neither felt inclined to speak. With the closing of the windows, the outside world vanished. Cliff settled himself in his seat to think. Just then from the open door of the smoker ahead, the smell of tobacco came floating

1006 IMPROVEMENT ERA back to the young man's sensitive and susceptible nostrils. "Whew," he half whistled, "that goes right down to the very bottom of my appetite. Talk about a desire — why, it's a regular craving or passion for the stuff." He tried to think of home, mother, Edith and every- thing but his cigarettes. But it was of no us:. Even the latest magazine failed to change his mind. "I've got to have one smoke," he declared as he looked toward the smoking car and, at the same time, thrust his hand into his side coat pocket. Then in place of a package of cigarettes, he half drew forth something else, a book he had forgotten was there. "Great Scott," he exclaimed as he looked about and produced the mysterious volume, "this is the first time I've looked this over since — since father died five years ago." As he hesitatingly opened the fly leaf he read: To my husband, John Clifford Bates, on his 40th birthday, from his loving wife — Sarah W. Bates. "Well, well, so this was fader's! Maybe that was part of the reason mother was so anxious for me to bring it along. Just about a year ago, on his last birthday, she gave me his watch." Uncon- sciously he put his hand on it, making sure it was not forgotten. As his eyes went a little farther down on the page of writing, he saw the date of giving, June 13, 19 — . Then things began dawning upon him, one after another." The 13th of June — father's birthday — today is the 13th sure enough — 12:45 a. m. — three-quarters of an hour into the day." He gazed amazingly at the hand writing. "This was what she was reading when I saw her in the mirror. Here sure enough was the place." Then he raised the book a little. One of mother's tears had blurred the writing a little just next to the name, "John Glifford Bates." Like a flash the whole thing dawned upon him. Mother had tried to tell him, but he had cut her short. How unkind he felt he had been. "She had double reason for feeling as she did. I didn't have enough sense to listen. I know I wouldn't have cut off a stranger as I did her. I must write her from Pocatello, explaining all. I thought it was she who was cranky over religious views, but I guess I was more determined about my own." After thinking for some time, he finally reasoned, "I wish I could be a little more like I was a few years ago. Now-a-days, it seems that I just can't get interested in religious topics. If I could, mother and Edith would both — ." "Ogden! Ogden," sharply called out the conductor. "Change cars for all points West in Nevada, and on to San Francisco. Change cars for all points East — Evanston, Rock Springs, Cheyenne, and Omaha." A few moments later Cliff felt the grinding of the brakes and noticed the speed of the midnight flyer begin to slacken. Into his pocket went his book, as dark buildings, line after line of freight cars, then open spaces showing various red and green lights, wrecking machines and hissing engines, all slipped dizzily by him. Along the

THAT MOTHER'S TEAR 1007 tracks, everywhere, things were moving, men, with lanterns in hand, made up and unmade trains, as orders were handed out by the night foreman. "Think of it," the young man commented, "night, after night, year after year, this same thing is going on while the city beyond lies sleeping. One has to get out in life a bit in order to appreciate what he possesses." At the station a few passengers entered, none of whom, however, came to the back to molest him or his friend behind him. A half- hour later, the dozen or more coaches were winding their way through the Ogden yards, picking up speed as they hurried forward toward Bear River canyon and Cache Junction. Now that all the buzz and whir and bustle and almost tumult of the noisy yards were behind them, Clifford settled back into his seat declaring, "I think I might better follow the rest of the people and try sleeping a bit." A few minutes later, he raised up and looked down toward the smoker, "Good heavens! I wish they would keep that infernal door closed. I stand myself pretty well until they let in a room full. Then that craving comes haunting me like Marley's Ghost after Scrooge, it just knocks and drags its chains in with it." For the second time he began the fight. "I'll eat!" he exclaimed. "I'll fill myself so full there won't be room for a smoke desire." Eat he did: Chicken sandwiches, pickles, potato chips, egg and vegetable salad, cake and banana all went out of sight. Then after he had gone to the end of the car and had a good drink he felt "much im- proved," as he said to himself. Not for long did he rest. The after-dinner craving seemed to be worse than the empty craving, at least he felt so. Try as he would, it wouldn't go. He moved about nervously in his seat. He felt ashamed to think he, a college man, should be so attacked. "Were it a human enemy," he declared, "good Lord, what a fight we'd have. But this miserable longing, constant, persistent thing, growing greater every minute — great scott, I can't stand it!" He finally made Up his mind. "I'll quit gradually. I'll take a smoke only when I get where I can't endure it longer. I'll have to quit the thing gradually." So saying, he started through his pockets again for his package of cigarettes. "Sure enough, they're in my other clothes, in my case there." Just then the news man passed up the isle, "Here, you, here! Bring me a package of cigarettes. Double quick!" A moment later with his cigarettes in his left coat pocket, he fixed his belongings together on the seat and prepared for the smoking car. He knew what a bunch of gay young fellows often rode there, and as he tied up his lunch box neatly, the smoker door opened, he caught bits of familiar songs in company to the jazzy pickety — pick — pick — tump — tump of the banjo. "Yes, they are there! And what a time they are having!" he exclaimed to himself. His young college blood began pulsating as if he were preparing for a football game. All his former splendid thoughts seemed gone. As he turned a bit, he

1008 IMPROVEMENT ERA noticed the gentleman behind him was terribly interested in all he was doing. Especially so, since he had made his recent purchase. "I guess he has never smoked," Cliff assured himself, "for if he had, he wouldn't seem so surprised at me." As young Bates was ready to leave, he unconsciously thrust both hands into his coat pockets. "My scott! What do you know about this combination," he spoke half aloud, "cigarettes in the left hand, Scripture in the other." At other times he would have made it a huge joke, written it to Edith, had lots of fun out of it; but now, as he hesitated, he saw himself, for a moment, at the mirror, and the vision of a few hours previous' danced before him. His finer, in- stinctive self riveted him to his place. Again he felt the throb of his mother's breast as she leaned on his shoulder and exclaimed, "Come home, as soon as you can, Clifford. Write often. I'll pray for you!" Then something seemed to suggest, "Possibly she is awake and praying for you even now, praying that the Lord will help you in the hour of temptation." At such a thought Cliff resolutely dropped the tobacco. Little or no faith, out came his left hand from his pocket, but the other, vice-like, stayed firmly in its place while the young college man fought one of life's greatest battles with no crowd shouting approval, or banners to assist him. Up to right now he had never really set the time for quitting his tobacco. He had never declared, "I'll smoke no more." Neither did he then, but he did know that part of his very manhood would slip away if he gave in. "At least right now, I can't and must not smoke. With every puff, I'd cuss myself. I'll be blamed if I'll do it. That infernal tobacco!" he exclaimed as he reached for it, and then, almost forgetting what he was doing, he whirled in his seat and holding it out half demanded of his friend, "Say, do you smoke?" The gentleman, as surprised as Clifford by the unexpected turn of affairs, finally gained self-possession enough to read in Clifford's face the inward agitation, he rather encouragingly replied, "No; young man, I don't smoke, but I'll take care of those cigarettes, if you wish." "Thank you, thank you, sir!" Clifford exclaimed as he dropped the unsealed package into the man's outstretched hand. "You may think me foolish," continued Cliff, "but I'm determined not to smoke today — father's birthday." As their eyes met, there seemed to be "an understanding more fruitful than many words. Clifford turned quickly and settled himself in his seat, wondering all the while who the stranger could be, knowing that, at least, one person in the car knew more about him than he was in the habit of telling. "But, that was a funny thing for me to do. It's a good thing I didn't stop to reason, that time," he added; "I had to take some forceful, determined plunge or the smoker car surely would have had me. Thank goodness the tobacco is gone." "This book," he remarked as he drew it forth again, "mother

THAT MOTHER'S TEAR 1009 wanted me to have." Pulling out his fountain pen he wrote, "From mother to Clifford, June 13, 19 — " Turning to the first chapter, he read: "I Nephi, having been born of goodly parents." This was underlined by Clifford's father. "Yes, I, too, was born of goodly parents." The marking in the next chapter attracted his attention, "And it came to pass that I, Nephi, being exceedingly young, neverthe- less being large of stature, and also having great desires to know of the mysteries of God." Clifford repeated, "Great desires. Have I ever had great desires to know of the mysteries of God?" He read again, "wherefore, I did cry unto the Lord; and behold, he did visit me, and did soften my heart that I did believe all the words spoken by my father; wherefore, I did not rebel against him — and it came to pass that the Lord spake unto me saying, blessed art thou, Nephi, because of thy faith for thou hast sought me diligently with lowness of heart." The young man read it again, pausing on the strong words. The third chapter was marked, but especially this verse, "And it came to pass that I, Nephi, said unto my father, I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no command- ments unto the children of men save he shall prepare the way for them, that they may accomplish the thing which he hath commanded them. And it came to pass that when my father had heard these words, he was exceedingly glad for he knew that I had been blessed of the Lord." Then Clifford exclaimed, "Nephi surely wrote those words for me! Tonight they seem to make a personal appeal. Still I can remember that I heard them when a boy." Again he turned the pages, reading anxiously here and there as he found in verses marked. "I know what I'll do." he finally resolutely declared, "today — father's birthday — I'll read every passage he marked. Then, when I write to mother, I'll tell her what I've done." Reso- lutely and determinedly, as was his nature, he settled down anxiously with a real man's job before him. "If I do all this today," he finally declared," I certainly won't have time for the smoking car." Then he read, and it seemed to fit his case, "For God is the same yesterday, today and forever; and the way is prepared for all men from the foundation of the world; if it so be that they repent and come unto him — for he that diligently seeketh shall find, and the mysteries of God shall be unfolded unto him by the power of the Holy Ghost, as well in these times as in times of old, as in times to come. Therefore remember, O man, for all thy doing thou shalt be brought into judgment. Wherefore if you have sought to do wickedly, in the days of your probation, then ye are found unclean before the judgment seat of God: and no unclean thing can dwell with God." "These quotations seem to burn right in," he declared. "Let's see, I've had college English No's 1, 2, 3, 6, and 87, but with all these five courses. I remember no writer with such instilling senti- ments, have found no bards or sages flashing more brilliant gleams for a higher life upon the soul of another than do these former Americans.

1010 IMPROVEMENT ERA They certainly possessed divine inspiration. I guess Edith is right. I have ceased cultivating the spot of religious ground given me to till. I have let higher culture purposely deaden my desires for sacred things, needlessly so. I am beginning to see it all. I remember Emerson's thought on this subject, 'It takes a divine man to exhibit anything di- vine.' I am sure that my every attitude of life has been intensely human. I have courted that which I have willed to master, and in so doing, I have striven to leave God out. Others could see and warned me kindly, but nevertheless I forged on recklessly, giving heed only where it best suited my own selfish ambitions. I can now see that strict con- formity to society's strong, enticing hand is but an act of conspiracy against one's manhood. Even tonight, and now, as we speed through the dark country, yonder smoking car, its gray mist and half-witty yarns, is reaching toward me, beckoning, supplicating, urgi'ng enticingly that a worthy cause be set aside, that I come join the crowd. Such apologies have ever disturbed any desire toward religious sentiments." With each new passage as he read his book, there came flooding before him the various forces that stand responsible for present-day society and its culture. Page after page he hurried forward, reading soul-striking thoughts from the pen of men who knew how to touch the better part of their fellows. He began to feel, more and more, that the forks of the road of life were at hand. This night he must make a choice. He saw plainly the higher road, saw its upgrade, but also felt the joy of attainment; he saw the shallow and swiftly fleeting pleasures of the other and read with concern its final ending. He knew he was not mistaken about his present desires, but what would they be on the morrow? Just then the words of Emerson came pounding into his ears, "It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude." "Cache Junction — Cache Junction," called the conductor. Great guns," the young man exclaimed, as he caught the dim outlines of the mountains in the darkness, "I was to try and see Bear River canyon, and here we are past it." The stop here was very brief, then on they hurried, crossing Bear River and steaming toward Pocatello, past fertile valleys and rounded mountains. Again Clifford read, "And my soul hungered, and I kneeled down before my maker, and I cried unto him in mighty prayer and supplication for my own soul; and all the day long did I cry unto him; yea, and when the night came, I did still raise my voice high that it reached the heavens. And there came a voice un- to me saying, Enos, thy sins are forgiven thee, and thou shalt be bless- ed." "I wonder," Clifford reasoned as he found whole groups of un- derlined declarations, "I wonder why, when I do go to Church, I never hear any of this material read by the preachers? If when I return, they

THAT MOTHERS TEAR 1011 should happen to call upon me, I'm sure I could at least read some of these quotations and say, Amen!" For the next two hours Clifford read on and on,' marveling at the insight of his father to pick so choice material. "Mother declared she had read the book several times; and Edith was reading it last winter, and often seemed brimming over when I called and tried to explain how she felt, but I only laughed at her foolish emotions. Women certainly have the patience of Job," he declared. "Pocatello — Pocatello. Change cars for American Falls and all points west. This train leaves here for Yellowstone at 8:45 a. m.," the conductor announced. Clifford pulled out his watch, 5:42 a. m. — "And leave at 8:45 a. m. — let's see — Great Caesar — three hours! I was told they lay over, but had no idea they stayed over. Well, I'll read some more and then I'll write the folks." Sometime later when Cliff looked about, the gentleman from the rear seat was gone, but as his case and other things were there, he was sure to return again. For some reason or other, young Bates felt glad his friend was returning to continue the journey. His hope was that they would be together at least to Idaho Falls, where he himself changed for the North. Cliff now dug into his lunch box again. That terrible feeling had returned with the fresh smell of tobacco. But so determined was he by now, that this time he came through easier. "I'll make it," he declared. He had just finished his lunch when his friend returned. They exchanged opinions about the morning, the yards, the growing city, the outlook for work and a number of other matters. Clifford liked the man's self-reserve and frankness. They talked about the past night but not the tobacco incident. Young Bates learned that his friend was just returning from a June M. I. A. Conference at Salt Lake City. "Are you off for the Park?" he finally requested of Cliff, who as yet said nothing of his own destination. "No, I'm on the way to the Salmon mining country," began Clifford, feeling now that he had a right to let the gentleman into more details of his life. "I just finished my third year at the university and am out after enough money to return and graduate. You see, mother is a widow, and I must pretty well pay my own way. I thought by coming off up here, I'd be able to save much more than if I stayed in Salt Lake City. Now that I know you are a 'Mormon,' why — I am, too, but I guess, it would be more correct to say my folks all are. Since father died, five years ago, I seem to have lost out — " "But," threw in his friend, "I have seen you intently reading the Book of Mormon all night. You must be a better Saint than you give credit to yourself!" "No, I'm not. Well — I am more of a Saint today than I was yesterday. The book and mother and — a young lady friend are re- sponsible for my change. This book certainly is wonderful! I sup- pose you have read it?" "Yes, yes, a number of times. It has had the same transforming

1012 IMPROVEMENT ERA influence in my life as you declare it is having in yours. Have you ever read the promise in the last chapter? Let me see your book, and I'll read it to you. I have put the verse to a test; it was while I was in England on a mission. Well, here it is, 'And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost; and by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.' " "No, I hadn't read that. Let me see. Has father underlined it? I should say he has. It seems perfectly good doctrine, doesn't it?" So Clifford and Mr. M — , for they now surely were acquainted, talked on. Finally the conversation returned to Clifford and his work. "I own a big ranch on the stage line out of Idaho Falls," began Mr. M — , "I shall soon be, in fact I am now, in need of one or two men to help with the hay. But during the heading period, I have a regular crew. I'll give you a job if you want it, beginning tomorrow. I don't know how you will take to such a proposition, but I am sure by Fall you will come out with as much money as if you go to the mines." The pleasant thought of so splendid a change in affairs, almost overcame Clifford with its abruptness. "Want it?" he half echoed, "I should say I do. And if you feel to try me out, you'll find me doing my best. Then, moreover, I can get a little needed help from you along other lines. If I go to the mines and find my old chums, why — well, it surely would tax me to the utmost, regarding my resolur tions." The deal being closed, Clifford Bates swung off the car hurriedly. At the station he wrote a brief synopsis of the past night, letting mother and Edith into the very secrets of his heart. A moment later the letters /ere safely in the mail car of a train that was just ready to speed for Salt Lake City. "I'm rather lucky all around. The buying of my ticket on the excursion rates to Idaho Falls was just right. I have saved the mileage on the other one hundred sixty miles. Then the meeting with Mr. M — , getting a ranch job — good home-cooked meals all Summer — Sundays off — time to read my book, for I certainly will test it out." As he walked happily toward his car, he felt a "new birth of free- dom." He seemed to be the center of all that was worth while. "I see life from a new angle," he assured himself, "and the force back of it all is that book — mother's tear — Edith!" Give Us Vision Our God, give us vision and wisdom in viewing Our trials that loom mountains high, E'er to know 'tis the furnace that's wielding To make riches no money can buy. Helen Kimball Orgill