Tithe of the Land

Tithe of the Land By Mrs. Ida W. Brown As Madge Petty viewed the autumn world with its scalloped horizon from her mountain home, it seemed to her that a benign peace had settled over all the uni- verse; as if Mother Nature, knowing that her bountiful crops were garnered, had heaved a great sigh of relief and said: "Well, that's that. Now for a little rest." And at her command storms and winds and all the elements of turmoil had ceased. The flood of silvery sunshine spilling from heaven only seemed to accentuate that per- vading peace. Everywhere was peace and tranquility — and subdued sounds like prayers of thanksgiving. No wonder Madge lifted her eyes to the blue-vaulted sky as she murmured: "God, I thank thee." But uttering thanks did not put Madge's mind in complete accord with the autumn world. A little riffle of disquiet was in her mind — a sense of guilt. Ten years Madge and her husband, Wilbur Petty, had lived on Mountain View Ranch. Each year their crops had been up to their ex- pectations. The land had yielded abun- dantly; and yet not once had they given a tithe to the Lord. Madge had always been more than willing to have given that tithe, but Wil- bur always had said that they had little enough without paying tithes. Madge realized that salvation came not by merely saying. "Lord, Lord," but by serving and being willing to keep every commandment that was given. Wilbur let farm work fill his days and mind and thought little or nothing about salvation. And now viewing this glorified autumn world, with its bright splashes of red and gold. Madge felt that she and her husband were guilty of cheating the Lord. What could she do about it? Nothing, perhaps. Just one of those unsolvable problems. And yet at school Madge had loved knotty problems — she had liked nothing better than a brain twister. But this problem that affected their lives now and throughout all eternity, she had cast to one side without much of a struggle to solve it. Madge's chin went up and a light of determination shone in her brown eyes as she went into the house. For several hours thereafter she busied herself with pencil and paper. When Wilbur came in at night after having carefully attended to all the needs of the farm stock, his wife met him at the door. "Let's go for a ride, just anywhere to be out in the air." Wilbur hesitated. "If I had one o' them — there radio's, I'd tune in on PQS or some other fool station, an' you an' Russell could go ridin'. Stickin' to a sulky all day a person gets enough ridin'." "Where's your radio?" laughingly inquired Madge. "I'm goin' to have one alright an' that before long." announced Wilbur, as they walked toward the car. Eight-year-old Russell moved to the middle of the front seat and patted each side as an invitation to his parents to join him.' Madge's eyes seemed never to tire in their search for beauty, and as they drove along she pointed them out to her husband and son. The irregular plots of grain stubble in- termingled with the gray of sage made the mountain look like a giant with a crazy- patch quilt over his lower extremities, in her eyes. Wilbur smiled at this comparison but after several seconds of careful scrutiny. Russell shouted: "Where's the giant's head. Ma?" "Oh. he's a headless giant. Can't you see his shoulders, one a little above the other?" "Yes, siree," agreed Russell and his grey eyes were bulging and bright from his pleasant imaginings.

TITHE OF THE LAND 143 When they were getting ready for bed Wilbur again spoke about the radio, ex- pressing a determination to have one before winter. "You're goin' down to Salt Lake for conference, you can look for one down there. An' be sure to get a good one." But when Madge came home from con- ference she had failed to buy a radio. "I just couldn't decide on one without you along." she said, as she met the in- quiring depths of her husband's gray eyes searching her own. "We'll have to go down together, or you can go down and get one yourself. I just don't know any- thing about radios." Wilbur showed his disappointment but Madge was thinking about a certain flat parcel in the bottom of her suit case that had taken up a great part of her time while she was in Salt Lake Citv. That evening she removed the paper wrappings and took that flat something to her bedroom. She hung it on the wall opposite the head of their bed and where the first rays of morning sunlight would strike it. Then she stood off and surveyed it with a pleasant smile. The black let- tering stood out in sharp contrast to the rose and gold of the frame. From the head of the bed she could easily read it: "The world is mine, and the fulness there- of." Psalm 50:12. "And all the tithe of the land, whether of the seed of the land, or of the fruit of the tree, is the Lord's." Lev. 27:30. After Madge had read she lifted her eyes and asked in silent prayer that the message of this card might find lodgment in her husband's heart. The next morning Madge slipped out of the bed before her husband was awake. She raised the blind so that the morning light was full upon the black lettering of the card. She had not started breakfast, but was watching the great, golden sun rise slowly over the eastern mountains when her hus- band joined her. He stood in silence, until the sun had cleared the mountain rim, as if awed by the tremendous beauty re- vealed before him. Something of awe was in his voice as he inquired: "Did you have them verses framed fer my benefit?" Brown eyes met gray eyes fearlessly be- fore she answered: "Yes: and mine, too." Then she turned her eyes to the valley below with shafts of sunlight searching out its beauty as she continued: "I love to think of this earth as belonging to the Lord, and of him as the generous Land- lord who has not ousted his tenants when they have refused to pay their rent, time and time again." She turned to him with a bright smile: "He left it all in our hands, we can pay him what is due, or we can cheat him — just as we please." Before he could answer her, she had gone tripping toward the back door. The rattle of tins in the kitchen came to him before he moved off toward the barn- yard. Each morning while Wilbur lay yawn- ing and blinking himself in wakefulness, he read the verses on the opposite wall. And each day as he sat on the sulky plough, in the clean, autumn sunlight, these verses echoed and re-echoed through his thoughts. Although in his mind he argued against them and tried not to think of them, he failed. There was something in the bright, painted beauty of autumn that compelled him to appreciate the earth and its Creator, and the rythm of those verses was like a murmured hymn of praise. He began to realize that it was a fair demand the Lord had made of the peoples of the earth. The truth began to dawn before his vision that one-tenth was a paltry thing to pay in exchange for being able to be a par- taker in the earth's production and beauty. Beauty. It seemed to be a thing that one could not live and escape — this autumn world was full of it. and the sun spraying it with silvery sunbeams, added to its glory. But suddenly the sun seemed to have lost its light and the earth its beauty to the inhabitants of Mountain View Ranch. For one night in the first week of November Russell came home from school and with- out speaking to his mother, staggered to his bedroom and fell across the bed. A

146 IMPROVEMENT ERA hasty examination of him revealed the fact that his little boy was burning with fever. Doctor Fosby, from a nearby town, was hastily called and gave out the dread de- cision: "Scarlet fever." Followed frenzied days and sleepless nights for Madge and Wilbur. Through- out the house was the smell of disinfect- ants, and daily the number of bottles in- creased on the oblong table by Russell's bed. On Thanksgiving day Doctor Fosby called and told them they might expect the crisis that night. After the doctor's departure Madge and Wilbur stood in the sick room facing each other, terror stricken. Crisis. That meant that their fight was soon over, one way or the other. Madge was the first to speak: "If only we were living so as to merit the full blessings of the Lord. We have neglected many of his command- ments, but one we have utterly disregarded — that of tithe paying. And now we are asking the Lord to pour out his blessing on us — We're not worthy — " Tears were streaming down her face as she looked in her husband's troubled eyes. She tottered and must have fallen had he not caught her in his arms. "Sweetheart — Russell's goin' t' git well — he must — We'll promise the Lord to do better if only he'll spare our boy. There — you'd better go to him — he's throwing the covers." Madge hastened to the bed and felt of the head and hands of Russell. "Bring me the liniment and olive oil. While I rub him you can try to keep him covered. The doctor said above all things we must not let him get cold tonight." So on through weary hours they worked. At time9 Madge felt incapable of making another move so great was her fatigue. Her eye-balls were like coals of fire. At midnight his fever lessened, but still they dare not leave the bed. For one minute with the strength of delirium he would throw covers and make attempts to get out of bed muttering incoherences; possibly the next minute they could scarcely distinguish a spark of life within him. So through long hours they fought and prayed. At five o'clock a change came. His breathing became natural and his sleep peaceful. "He's better, daddy — he's better." Madge's eyes were bright with happiness as she spoke. Wilbur bent over the sleeping child for several seconds. "Yes, he's better, Mother — and now you must get some sleep." "But I can't leave him — oh, daddy. I'm so thankful." "But you must," Wilbur insisted. I'm goin' t' stay right here 'til morning an' you're goin' to get some rest. So Madge was soon in bed and having the first untroubled sleep she had had for weeks. Before a month had passed, life at Moun- tain View Farm had resumed its normal trend. Russell was gaining in strength daily, and happiness, too, for Christmas was only a few days away. Madge was a little sad these days in spite of Russell's improved health. Wilbur had never mentioned tithe-paying and she was beginning to fear another year was going to pass with their obligations to the Lord unpaid. Of this she was thinking as she sat in their cozy room busy with mending. Sud- denly Russell rushed into the room. "Here, Mama, take this paper and write your letter to Santa. Me an' daddy have got our's all wrote. We're goin' to send them up the chimney." Without hesitation Madge wrote: Dear Santa: I would like to have enough money to pay my tithing. Noth- ing could give me more joy. Best wishes for a happy Christmas. — Madge Petty. Madge was folding the paper prepara- tory to putting it in the stove door when Russell slipped it adroitly from her hand. "I've got to let daddy read it," and before she could make protest he had dis- appeared from the room. A few moments later Wilbur stood be- fore her with the letter in his hand, his gray eyes smiling as he spoke: "Mother, this is one Christmas you're goin' to git your present a bit previous. Bishop's set-

TITHE OF THE LAND 147 tlin' tithing down at the Church, get your coat an' hat." Bishop Farnsworth and his counselors were surprised when Wilbur walked up to the little table by which they were sitting and took from his pocket a roll of bills. As he laid them on the table he said: "Here are two hundred and thirty-five dollars, my full tithing for the year — my first tithing, but I hope it won't be my last." The three ward officials shook hands with Wilbur and Madge and congratulated them for being able and brave enough to pay a full tithing at the first attempt. Both felt proud and thankful as they walk- ed down the aisle toward the door. Just as Wilbur opened the door the Bishop called out: "We wish you all a merry Christmas." And that was just what the Petty family had — a merry Christmas. As Madge stood by Russell's small tree on Christmas morn- ing Wilbur came and put his arm about her. He stood for a few seconds before speaking: "I was tempted t' spend the tithing money for a radio but I'm glad I didn't. I never felt so humble an' thank- ful before in my life. I believe I know now the spirit that Christ would like us to have in our hearts at Christmas time.' "Spirit of sacrifice," murmured Madge, happily. Pocutello. Idaho The Miracle of Joseph Smith By Frank C. Steele One hundred and twenty-two years ago was born Joseph Smith, the greatest re- ligious teacher, the Savior excepted, this world has known. As a restorer and prophet, as an organizer and a law-giver, Joseph Smith will be known to all the world in all ages. In truth, thousands now recognize his pre-eminent position; mil- lions are impelled to deny him such recog- nition, through ignorance and prejudice. But the day is fast approaching when this man, whose life and work combine to form a miracle of the ages, will be ac- corded his place among the world's im- mortals. Let us swiftly scan the wonderful career of Joseph Smith, a career that stands out among the mysteriously great in human annals Born in the backwoods of Ver- mont of honest but lowly parents, his limitations were many. His schooling was meager, fragmentary, although his very life under hard, pioneer conditions taught him many of life's important lessons. Then, too, like the great Lincoln, young Joseph had a mother. Lucy Mack Smith, whose influence on her son of destiny has given her a glory which will never fade. Later, when Joseph is yet a boy, the Smiths leave the stony Vermont homestead and locate in western New York. Poverty drives them to make this move; the wrench at leaving is hard, but in the strange com- bination of events, that very hardship is a step in the ladder of success for the thoughtful Joseph trudging with his kin- folk across country to a new home. Again the picture changes. Kneeling in a grove not far from the rude cottage of his family this remarkable boy is absorbed in prayer. He is only fourteen years of age but his soul is torn with uncertainty. He pleads for light and, pressed by faith, the gates of heaven are opened and God the Father and his Son come down to earth and commune with the humble suppliant. Eager to inform the religious world, confused and divided on questions of doc- trine and practice, of his great revelation, Joseph makes known to a select few the circumstances of his vision. He meet', re- buff and persecution and is soon branded a half-wit, an idle visionary and other cruel nicknames that might have discour- aged and embittered a spirit weaker than his.

148 IMPROVEMENT ERA Unyielding in his testimony and un- moved by the waves of abuse that break upon his young brow, he stands alone in the crowd, comforted only by his faith- ful parents. Years pass and again to the chosen Joseph, now reaching young man- hood, come heavenly messengers bearing new blessings and new responsibilities. Among these responsibilities is numbered the plates of a sacred record — the Book of Mormon — which the boy, by the gift and power of God translates and publishes, another witness for Jesus Christ in all the world. From that time forward his work multi- plies as do the visitations of mobocrats and evil designing men. Sublimely he meets and shatters these attacks, rising from every Slough of Despond with a new courage and a new vision. Schooled by the holy Spirit and dis- ciplined by the Deity himself, Joseph Smith continues to serve his fellowmen. From him pour wisdom and virtue and truth and those acts of his divine calling that lead to the establishment of the kingdom of God upon the earth. His mysterious growth of soul and intellect, reading and writing much, pondering eternally, com- muning with angels and with God, cheer- ing and organizing his people — these are features of his life before which we bow our heads in awe and reverence. Such wisdom, such vision, such compassion! His poise, the perfection of his restraint in the midst of stress, the fine control of the mighty powers that were his to com- mand, these are all elements of greatness unfolded in this remarkable life. As a child he had emerged from the forest fastnesses to take up his stupendous task; as a man, surrounded by thouands who love and honor him yet withal much alone and much misunderstood, he now moves on to that fate, gathering like a winter cloud above his head. But a divine Power has endowed him against that dreadful hour when he is led away to death and martyrdom. In the agony of that moment of supreme testing, torn from wife and children, friends and followers, home and possessions, the Church he had founded and the city he had built, he wavers not. His testimony he had declared without fear in life; in death he makes it binding with his blood. With peace upon his brow, and charity in his heart, he receives, like the great Lin- coln a decade later, the shot that sends his spirit to God. To our crude mortal senses Joseph Smith is dead, yet, in the extraordinary sense of spirit life, he is alive. And above and through the all-embracing work which under divine guidance he established, the spirit and influence of this Prophet and Seer still moves. That ministration cannot be stayed. And so it shall be until the task is done and the hosts of men go forth to meet their Lord. Lethbridge. Alta, Canada. Finis When we have reached the end of the last long mile, And the grim, black shadows of the night creep down. Will the sunset hover o'er our staunch glad smile. Or must darkness spread her wings to hide our frown? Will all we ever hoped to be abide the crucial hour When wistfully we view the closing day, Our pomp, our pelf, our little meed of vaunting pouar. Will these cherished monuments survive our mortal clay? Oh. may our hearts be brave until the twilight fades. That closes on our last triumphant deed, And when our lamp goes out and we slip into shades. Heaven-bound, worthy, let courage be our creed. EZRA J. POULSEN