--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Unknown collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 31 number: 3 published: 1928-01 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Unknown, “The Road to Destiny,” *Improvement Era* 31, no. 3 (January 1928): 236–239." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3103unse 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: improvementera3103unse start_page: 236 end_page: 239 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1928-01) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3103unse publication_year: 1928 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 1928, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # The Road to Destiny SUNNY JIM CAVE Photo Courtesy, Pictorial California of the underground stairway is broken by flickering lights. The guide leads on, down and down — until the bottom, it seems the very bottom of the earth is reached, and the sunlight flashing from the waves casts its rays into Sunny Jim cave. The grin on the huge stone face that looks in from the ocean front casts fear aside and before long visitors are smiling, calling to one another, listening to the echoes ring from grotto to grotto. The guide tells the party that it is in this famous cave that many movie scenes are made, — parts of "The Count of Monte Cristo" and others. A huge rock at the mouth of the cave casts a reflection into the pool below, and the suggestion is made that photographs be taken of some mem- bers of the party. The tide will soon be in and the party must hurry up the stairs before the ocean floods the floor of the cave. We leave Sunny Jim still smiling optimistically and happy, — an inspiration to travelers. The open side of this patio sweeps into spacious lawns centered Spanish houses seem to drift into the garden. pool. The Road to Destiny By Elizabeth Cannon Porter Edgar Wells had been like one paralyzed all day: ever since his successor as principal of the high school had been announced. Of course he had known it was coming; but somehow it seemed worse as it stared out at him from the front page of the morning paper. As soon as Dirk Crane was elected county superintendent of schools it was generally conceded that he would put in his brother-in-law. O. A. Burke, as head of the high school. As a result of the election, too, the personnel of the board had been changed. In vain Wells' friends called attention to his twenty years of service; his achieve- ments, which had been notable. Their arguments were as effective as waves dash- ing against a rock wall. "The twenty best years of my life — twenty-five to forty-five!" he exclaimed ruefully. "Why, I've made this school. Now someone else will reap the benefit of my work." He had taken his troubles to his wife. The children carried their hurts to "mother," who never failed them. As her eyes rested on the greying hair of her husband, he seemed but another of her loved ones who had been wounded in his battle with the world. "It does seem too bad, Ed., with the new building just finished two years ago. and the laboratory equipment and all." Prof. Wells could have wept at the mention of the scientific laboratory, so long had he struggled for it. For its class. it was the best in the state. He had worked indefatigably for it. Science had been his subject when he had started out as a young teacher. He had classified the wild flowers of his beloved state. He knew the geology of their valley and had installed superb glass cabinets full of fossils and mineral specimens. In the many-windowed laboratory for the study of physics and chemistry, he had seen one of his dreams come true. "Burke will step in when the institution 238 IMPROVEMENT ERA is made," he exclaimed disconsolately. "I've heard of them shelving old men, but they've put me out in my prime." "Why, can't you see, dear, that it's a good thing?" "What!" "Why if you've got to make a change, that you do it while you still have your strength. Don't you remember what Emerson says in his essay on Compensa- tion, that disasters sometimes force changes upon us that ultimately result in our good. 'That what would, sheltered, have been a sunny garden flower, may become, through hardships, the banyan tree of the forest.' " "Just where would you transplant us?" he asked sardonically. "Other schools will not want Delphi's cast-offs." "I was thinking," said his wife slowly, "of that letter that we had from Ferd a while back. He said that he wished he had someone reliable, like 'good old Ed,' to take care of his office in Los Angeles while he rustled some outside business." "Insurance! What do I know about insurance?" "That's just it. It's different and would be a change." "But our interests are here — home and everything." " 'Transplanted things,' I've heard you say Ed, 'though they wilt at first, usually do better afterward in a new soil.' " He did not know that in her mother heart she harbored ambitions for her chil- dren, now budding into adolescence. A larger place would offer increased op- portunities. Edgar Wells went ahead to try out the new work. The news stirred the little town. The Wells' were going to Cali- fornia! Many regretted it for they had known the amiable professor all their lives- Mother stoically sold the house. They were burning their bridges. They had been paying for it so long that it was inti- mately associated with their lives. As she packed her furniture for shipping she cried a little but presently dried her eyes. Her place was by her husband's side. The Wells family became active mem- bers of the branch of the Church in their new location. They were wafted on by the boom in the coast city. An avenue swept by the first house that they bought and overnight turned it into business prop- erty. They sold the lot for a store and moved the house to another piece of ground. Soon the city crowded it so they rented it and built them a more capacious home farther out. It basked in sunlight this New Year's day like a jewel in its setting. The sur- rounded landscapes divulged, besides a curved driveway of fan palms, the silhouettes of tropical-looking dates flanked by the pinion pine, Italian cypress and Monterey cedar. From one neighbor's miniature Japanese garden floated the murmur of a waterfall; the tinkle of windbells. On the other side blazed a row of belated red and gold cannas; a splash of purple bougainvillea against a yellow wall. All night in their own garden the night- blooming cereus had burdened the air with its perfume, but, with the coming of the day, gave place to the scent of Chinese sacred lilies. Poins«ttias lent their regal beauty to the holiday: everlasting flow- ers bloomed in lavender immortality. There was the tender green of Scotch broom. Mother Wells flitted about the house, arranging bowls of crimson McArthur roses and purple pansies. Her dreams of her children had come true. Parley was a ship's officer on a large liner that plied to the Orient. Isolde, who had a distinct gift of design, was already a successful interior decorator. Motts, in the high school, played the saxophone| and was fitting himself to become an auto mechanic, ( though he secretly hoped that they'd be running airships by the time he was through.) They and their friends would all be home today. Mother felt a little flutter of excitement. What would come of the meeting of her older boy with Angie Reed? They had not seen each other for five years. Angie was from their home town of Delphi and was visiting Isolde for the holidays. Parley was a man's man, little interested in girls, but Mrs. Wells had THE ROAD TO DESTINY 239 hoped that when he chose a wife that he would pick a Utah girl. There is a delicacy about the mountain-bred girls, — and Angie was so much the real thing. Mother donned her rose-colored gown and ensconced herself behind the silver chocolate pitcher to dispense hospitality. The table stood in the sun parlor, which was floored with yellow and black tile and decorated with Donatello flower boxes filled with Boston ferns. Two bright spots burned on Mrs. Wells' cheeks. "You look like a girl," apostrophied her husband, strolling in. He, too, had grown younger in appearance. Business competition demanded that he "keep fit." "I'm expecting Parley today. The Mauretania Maru was expected to dock this morning. Mr. Wells consulted his paper. "Sure enough," he said. Motts, with some fellow tennis raqueteers, arrived. They devoured the little cakes and made hilarious allusions to the burial of the old year at Venice the night before. "Great time," explained Motts, "con- fetti, costumes, real, live elephant. Every- one invited to take a ride." Isolde and Angie came in glowing. They had been to the tournament of roses at Pasadena. As they doffed their coats and poised their chocolate in dainty cups they de- scribed it. "Yes, lots of roses — Irish Killarneys, French Maman Cochets, German Frau Druschis." "And the costumes," exclaimed Angie to whom it was all new, "Padres and Spaniards. Indians and Colonial Dames, world war veterans and English fox- hunters." Kent Crawford, a movie celebrity, ar- rived in his foreign-built car. Isolde had met him in Hollywood while designing a set for a picture. His distinguished pres- ence lent eclat to the occasion. Right after him came Parley, who blus- teringly embraced his mother and sister. "How are you, father?" he put out his hand. Gravely he appraised Angie, — the curved grace of her, — her ash-gold hair and honest gray eyes. "This is a surprise!" "Motts, old boy." "Glad to see you, Kent." Then he remembered his belated Christ- mas gifts in a sandalwood box redolent of the Orient. He poured them out: a Chinese dragon on black satin, a kimona embroidered in morning glories, slippers, a necklace of mother-of-pearl, a tiny ivory hand on a long stick which he facetiously informed them was "a back-scratcher for pa." Isolde fastened the necklace around Angie's white throat. Mother Wells turned off the radio, which had been voic- ing a New Year's sermon, and put on the record, "The Girl from Utah." After a while the younger boys went out to feed the green parrot that kept screeching. "Grandma," from the sycamore tree. Isolde and Kent strolled out to look at their own and each others' images in the "gazing globe." Angie stopped to admire an Ingalls statuette of a baby by the pool, but Parley took her over to a cedar tree, plucked a branch and thrust it at her, say- ing simply, "It means 'I live for thee.' Mother and father Wells' were left alone in the gathering twilight. A feeling of content enveloped them. "Do you remember, Ed, when you lost your position at the Delphi High that you thought that the end of the world had come?" "Well, I've generally found that when one door shuts, two open." "Yes. and sometimes men are pushed by circumstances into other work where they would never have the courage to make a change if left to their own initia- tive." He reached out and found her hand where it lay on the wicker arm of her chair.