When Flowing Tides Ebb

When Flowing Tides Ebb By Carter E. Grant, Jordan L. D. S. Seminary H, my!" exclaimed eighteen-year-old Glen Hammond, a broad-shouldered, manly appearing young fellow, "hot, Oh, my!" And he straightened up at the end of the long potato row, freely using his blue handkerchief on the rolling beads of sweat that streamed down his face and neck. "Contented! Great guns, how can the folks expect me to be contented? They can't see my point anyway. I'm tired of this mess. I can't say I ever did like farming. Now I hate it! That's all there's to it. If I were just out on a big ranch, hay ranch, cattle ranch, sheep ranch — anything is preferable to this dull, monotonous, daily grind." After a quick-eyed survey of the several acres yet to do, the young fellow continued, "I certainly meant all I said to the folks last evening, but as usual they passed it as a huge joke. Even when I declared I was going away somewhere to work, father never so much as looked up from behind his paper. I don't know just where I'll land, but I'll land, and I shan't be hurrying back, either." Glen looked at his watch, "2 o'clock, and four more hours to go. I wouldn't mind if I could be interested, but I can't! It's just the same thing day after day, and then it begins all over. Pete and Chick, when they got ready to go, they just up and left. They said they were going and went. I make up my mind, but let the folks change it. Why, I've never been out of the state! Father's being bishop makes it so that I can't step in any direction. The other fellows'll start to the University and won't have to ask their folks for a penny. That's the thing that's getting on my nerves — asking for every dollar, and then being checked up to see how it's been spent. But here I am, weeding, watering, cultivating, and then for a change milking five cows every night and morning!" The young fellow settled himself almost sullenly at the end of the row and began vexatiously jerking out the weeds on the next row as far as he could reach, "I hate the whole blamed — " "O Glen! O — Glen — O Glen!" came his mother's distant voice from the barn yard, a quarter of a mile away. As the young man slowly arose to answer, he heard louder and longer than before, "O— Glen!" Placing both hands megaphone style, he shouted, "What do you want?" "Come, go catch Judy — hitch her up for me. Hurry, I'll be late!"

WHEN FLOWING TIDES EBB 211 "Relief Society again, great Scott! It seems to me it's here every other day. Shakespeare didn't half express it when he exclaimed, 'My kingdom for a horse!' It should be, 'My kingdom for a car, potato patch and all thrown in.' We're the only 'buggy' tribe in this neck of the woods. Our horse was the only four-legged cyl- inder at Church Sunday. Now, as for me, I don't drive it again. I'll walk first!" Resolutely he struck his hoe with a smash into the rich soil. The mother, seeing no hurried movement toward the pasture, shouted, "Do hurry, Glen!" The young man, misunderstood by his parents, made his way across the cleared portion of the large potato patch. "There's a dandy crop here anyway!" he was forced to exclaim, as the thick vines struck him half way to his knees. He was soon in the little pasture and onto Judy's back galloping toward the large barn-yard. The outfit was quickly hitched and ready. As the mother drove hurriedly away, she called, "You know, Glenny, how anxious your father is about those potatoes, do keep at them. I couldn't see you any place when I first called!" What a tide now fought for mastery in young Hammond's soul! The surging, impulsive urge within "swelled like the Sol- way," but failed to ebb like its tide. "I'll surely go now! I'll go! even mother thinks I'm sloughing." Slowly but firmly he stepped back into the shade of the buggy shed. After a few moments deep thought, he settled himself on a box and began turning things over and over half tumultuously in his troubled, worried brain. "Once on a Northern ranch, the rest will be easy," he reasoned. "When father really sees I'm deter- mined, he'll let me have the money; at least he will lend it, and I can pay it back." Again he sat in silence, for there was someone else who lived a few miles distant to whom he must talk. "Well," he finally ex- claimed, a bit more contentedly as he reached down his saddle and bridle, "it won't hurt to ride over. Blamed if she doesn't under- stand me better than anyone." A half hour later, galloping at a reckless swing, he neared Edna Roe's home. Just what word he expected from this young woman was not clear in his mind. He wasn't hunting sympathy; no, not that, for that wasn't the word expressing the feeling he got when he told her his troubles. Then, too, he had been thoroughly in- troduced to the girl's high standard of things during their high school life together; and that she could help him now, he felt certain. "Luck's coming my way," he exclaimed, "there's Edna now, hanging out the clothes, at the upper end of the lot." Right through

212 IMPROVEMENT ERA the back gate he galloped, curbing his steed to a prancing, jumping halt at the very side of the surprised and half-frightened young woman. "Glen Hammond!" the girl screamed as she snatched the basket of fine washed linen that was dangerously near the excited horse's feet. "Why don't you run right over me, clothes-basket and all! I believe you'd like too!" And then as she looked up, Glen, as usual, caught those big, expressive, dark eyes full in his. That alone was worth the three-mile ride. "Why, I didn't see you!" he laughed as he swung himself down all at-home-like beside the- trembling girl, "besides Cody wouldn't step in that basket of clothes if you wanted him to." "I wouldn't trust him, or you either," and then they both laughed. "Say, Edna, your face is needing no rouge today, is it?" "Now, Glen, don't be too smart, for mine's surely no worse than yours; it would be impossible." And following another little merry laugh, they stood looking inquiringly at each other. Finally, Glen broke the spell by rather abruptly exclaiming, "Well, Miss, I'm quitting the farm. Going off to work! I may be gone until Christmas." Rather stunned by such a sudden turn of affairs, the young woman stood half statue-like as she felt her heart pounding in al- most irritating thuds; then her eyes met Glen's again and for a few moments, clothes-basket, line, trees, horse, and everything vanished as the two expressed themselves without words. "You surely aren't on your way now, I hope," she finally exclaimed, eyeing his sweating steed. "Going at the rate you flew in here, you'd certainly get there in a hurry!" and then almost in spite of herself she laughed a bit at her own wit showing at so grave a moment. Then, as she looked again at Glen and his horse, a school poem flashed into her mind. "Say," she exclaimed with a tinge of mischievousness in her voice, "really, I believe you'd make an ex- cellent young Lochinvar. You remember Lady Heron's song in Scott's "Marmion?" And then, half forgetting the full meaning of her little sportiveness, she began almost vivaciously, " 'Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide border his steed was the best.' " Here she paused as if to stop. "Go ahead!" he half demanded, laughing at the color that was again coming to her cheeks. Not to be outdone she continued, " 'And save his good broadsword, he weapons had none, He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone.'

WHEN FLOWING TIDES EBB 213 "Oh, I can't repeat the next line! Let's quit, shall we?" "Quit, I should say not!" and the boy laughed teasingly. "I knew you'd started something you couldn't finish. Go on, go on. I'm just getting interested. You're just like all girls," and he laughed merrily. "I'll show you — 'So faithful in love and so dauntless in war. There ne'er was a knight like young Lochinvar, He stayed not for brake, he stopped not for stone — ' "Really, Glen, I can't remember what comes next." "We'll run down to where he invited her out, you know, 'One touch to her hand — "Oh, yes, 'One touch to her hand and one word to her ear, When they reached the hall door the charger stood near. So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung! She is won! We are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur, They'll have fleet steeds that follow, quoth young Lochinvar. " 'There was racing and chasing on Netherby Lee But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see; So daring in love and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?' " Now it was the girl's turn to laugh, for Glen's face carried the crimson. Back of that color were thoughts he dare not put into words; and, for the moment, he wondered how it would seem to have this beautiful creature for all his own; and carry her off to a ranch in another state. "For goodness sakes, Glen, stop looking at me so, and say something. Don't think I'm going to let you swing me on that horse and dash away, as much as I know you'd like to !" And again she laughed tantalizingly, at least it seemed to Glen that she was unduly tormenting him, fairly rubbing it in. "Great Scott, Edna," he finally found himself saying, "when you're bantering a fellow to try it, and still he knows it can't be done honorably, what can a man do but just stand mocked at the predicament, forgetting why he came and everything else. But I'm in for trying almost anything today! And if you'll consent to a long run, there's no animal about here that can take us in, go as they may!" "O Glen, come, let's forget Lochinvar. Really, what did you come for? Actually I'm still trembling from the fright you gave me, see," and she placed her shaking hand on the young man's broad shoulder. A remarkably satisfying thrill touched her young woman-

214 IMPROVEMENT ERA ly soul as she felt the strengthening manhood of the one that stood so near her. "Edna! O, Edna!" came the older sister's voice through the trees in the direction of the back porch. "The telephone wants you. Oh, is that you, Glen? No wonder Edna hasn't returned for more clothes. Won't you come down to the house!" "No thank you, Nell! I must be going now in a minute. I'll wait here." As Glen stroked his steed's sweaty neck, and intwined his fingers half nervously in the animals well-kept mane, he exclaimed, over and over to himself his feelings of love and deep respect for this girl who seemed to mean more than all the world to him, "Some day, — some day — " he murmured, and then he turned his eyes toward the distant mountains and gazed far off in silence. All through high school these young people had been friends together, but the last year "Glen and Edna" became proverbial. "Edna Roe" was found on more than one page in most of young Hammond's school books. "Edna Roe" was lettered on the top board of the pasture gate. "Edna Roe" was regularly in the young man's thoughts, and sometimes, remembered in his prayers. Even Glen's parents knew that when their son was out with this particular young lady, that the gang element and their indulgences, had no appeal for their boy. There seemed to be no particular reason why they shouldn't love each other. Both seemed exceptionally gifted with worthy physical qualities, while deep in each countenance could be read the reward of a carefully ordered life. As the cherishing of honor always leaves its reward, it had not failed here. And as the great Master put it, "Men cannot hide their light under a bushel." At the last ward party, Uncle Joe, had exclaimed to his wife, "I'll swear, if it ain't a joy to see those two youngsters together!" "You're right," added Aunt Jane, "I've been watching 'em all the evening, but then, you know, they're just children yet." "I don't know — I don't know about that, Mother! They don't act very childish to me!" And Uncle Joe set his mouth and squinted his eyes a bit, feeling that he had really said something. "Well," began Edna on her return, "we're going to give a big M. I. A. party two weeks from Friday night. The president of the young ladies was just calling asking that all the officers meet with the young men officers this Friday night. Do you think you'll be back for the 'Big Do?' " "Now, Miss, none of your jokes! When I go, I stay — stay at least, as I said, until Christmas. I may return for the second quarter at the University, or I may make up my mind and stay until spring."

WHEN FLOWING TIDES EBB 215 "O Glen, don't talk so! But even if you were so foolish, what do you expect me to do all that time? I'll surely be stepping out a bit, shall I?" "Shall I?" he half echoed, "most emphatically, no! Why, I wouldn't go a step if I thought any other fellow was coming to take you out." After a long talk and some rather satisfying understandings. Glen Hammond swung lightly into his saddle, and, with a touch of his hat and a wave of the hand, was again speeding over the dusty road toward home and the neglected potato patch. It was a few minutes past five when eagerly he picked up the hoe from the place he had plunged it three hours before. "I know I feel better," he told himself as he moved rapidly forward down the long potato row. When the shadows were growing long with the red summer sun well set, the young man left the field for chores and supper. During the evening, Glen, waiting his chance, followed his mother into the other room requesting, "Mother, will you ask father to step in here a minute, I'd like to talk with you both. Mrs. Hammond thoroughly amazed at the frank request, went for the questioning bishop. With the door closed the three stood facing one another in supreme silence. The young man, still determined to leave, delivered his longings and desires and requests, not now in the attitude of an ultimatum, as he had thought early in the after- noon to do. He declared he wanted a chance to get away, get out and make some money, be like the other fellows. He frankly con- fessed his dislike for farming; in fact, now that he had such an attentive audience, he completely unwound and ended with, "You remember what the speaker said at the meeting last week, I saw you writing it down, 'The chief business of the child is to under- stand, but the chief business of the grown-up boy is to be under- stood.' I've wanted to tell you all this for a long time." "Well, well," finally began the father in as calm a tone as possible, "what's put all this into your head so suddenly?" "So suddenly," exclaimed the boy in amazement, "why father. I've been thinking about it for at least two years, and especially every day this summer." "Why, son," began the anxious mother, "this very afternoon our subject was, 'Why young men leave home.' It was the farthest thing from my mind, that you would ever want to leave." And she lifted her apron to brush away part of her emotion. Neither of these parents present nor sister Roe knew of the little life drama set and played at the clothes-line that very afternoon. It seems that in the tragedies of life the fox is cunning or the hounds can't see, and, that many ills spring from small misunderstandings.

216 IMPROVEMENT ERA Glen felt that, at last, he was understood, or, at least the folks knew his desires. After some minutes of deep study and many counter proposals, all of which seemed to fail at changing the boy's tide of mind, the father finally asked, "Where do you think you want to go, and when?" "I'd like to go up into Idaho and leave this Friday evening; I can finish the weeding by then. A big ranch is the place where I want to land." When they finally separated it was agreed, "Glen was going away to work." Friday evening young Hammond galloped away from the Roe home in time to meet his father and mother at the train at 9:07. A few minutes before the long flaring head-light of the limited shot into view, the three entered the station. As the agent handed out a return ticket, the young man exclaimed, "Here, I don't want a return! I just asked for a one-way." "It makes no difference in the price, as the regular annual summer excursion is on, round-trip's the same as one-way." "I'll never use it, but if there's no difference in price, I guess I can hand it to some one coming this way." As they stepped out onto the platform, everything was aglow from the glare of the great race-horse that was rushing toward them. Out hurried the agent, lantern in hand. Two vibrant, shrill shrieks from behind the flood of glaring light announced that the signal had been accepted. In another instant the huge form of the engine with its lofty head-light, grind of wheels and brakes, and sputter of steam, came to a slow-down; and before the boy realized the hurry of things, off swung the conductor with his lantern. "All-a-board, all-a-board," he shouted, and at the same time waved a hurry-up signal to the already puffing engine. There was no time for cere- mony. Hurriedly Glen kissed his father, then taking his mother full into his large arms, he pressed her lips to his as only a son can. A moment later, with suit-case in hand, from the lower step of the car, he waved back at the folks in the darkness. For the first time the young man felt a lump stirring in his throat. Then a warm tear dropped from his cheek. He waited in the entrance a moment before stepping into the brilliantly lighted train. The Green Valley Ranch proved a busy place. Rough, too, for in the bunk house were a dozen men from all parts of the country, most of them anxious for yarning off their various expe- riences. Questionable stories, that ground on Glen's sensitive nerves, these men took as matter-of-fact — western life. Night and morn- ing the men milked a regular herd of cows. The "new-comer" was

WHEN FLOWING TIDES EBB 217 given "Mixey," "Spot" and several other known outlaws as his share of the dairy problem. Then came breakfast at 6:30, followed by long, hard hours in the wild hay and "fox-tail;" supper at sun- down; then the cows again, and the separating, and last of all the smoky bunk-house and hard beds. As the place was nothing but a northern hay and cattle ranch, there was no pretense at raising any vegetables, or anything else to which Glen had been accustomed. The meals tasted greasy and can- like, no fruit but what was brought now and then by the cream truck that visited them Tuesdays and Fridays and then hurried off again to the railroad some thirty miles distant. A week dragged by! Glen's job was on the huge stack, some- times with a helper, but generally alone, but always up to his waist in the loose, wild hay and fox-tail. As the expert forker with exceptional facilities had made his brag, "No outfit waits on me," the great loads dropped onto the stack rapidly, and at times, almost furiously. "To thunder with the wants of the stacker," exclaimed the forker, "it's my business to put the hay up there! If he needs more help, let him get it." And so things moved forward, Sunday the same as any other day. "Let's see," began Glen as he lay stretched at full length on his bunk bed in the dim light of a dirty, flickering lantern, I've been here twelve days. Great Scott, it seems a year! Only heard once from Edna and the same from mother. Each promised to write almost every day. That blamed milk-truck calls at the office when it hasn't anything else to do. Surely Friday will bring a bunch of news." "Say, Hammond, how do you like this infernal south wind?" exclaimed one of the fellows as he entered and pushed the door shut quickly to keep out the dust and dirt that came pouring into the dingy room. "How do I like it? Great guns, if you were up on that stack, you'd like it! Even with a helper today, things were bad enough. I told Mr. Daniels tonight that it was practically impossible to keep the loose stuff from rolling off at times." As the pitchers, the loaders, and the forker now took up the theme, there was no reason why Glen should do any real cussing, for they were attacking things in no mistaken sentiments. Thursday morning brought little change, unless it was that there was more wind and thicker dust. To continue the hauling was impossible. The foreman came out and sent all hands several miles up the sand ridge to run a line of barbed wire fence. Of all beastly days, this was the worst! The gale fairly whipped the dirt and sand with stinging rashness into eyes, nose, and ears. Even

218 IMPROVEMENT ERA before quitting time most of the men were assisting to hitch up the horses, ready for shelter. That evening, while the wind roared across the country, send- ing dust and dirt a-plenty into the milk pails, the cows backed, stepped, and kicked, while tired, red-eyed men cussed and swore. Glen's "Mixey" was no exception to the rule. "Watch out for settlings!" one of the fellows down at the separator room shouted. "I've only got about half my regular sum!" put in another. "If I get that much," exclaimed Joe Bird next to Glen, "I'll consider myself mighty lucky." "Great heavens!" began the big red-haired foreigner, "my stuff's thick enough without the separator!" That night as young Hammond pulled some letters from his coat pocket, a stub of a return ticket fell into his bed. "Well, well," he exclaimed as he examined the date, "tomorrow, Friday the 22nd and then it's no good." With the ticket still in his hand, Glen threw himself upon his bunk to try and think. "Say," began Scott Leonard, the only reader of the crowd, handing a piece of paper toward Glen, "here's a clipping I got some- time ago from a church magazine. I thought you might like to read it." Hammond read, "One day the Master said to his hired servant, I am going away. As the corn in this large patch is just coming into the milk, it must be thoroughly watered or it will blast and die. "Left to himself, the servant became neglectful, choosing to do other things rather than following closely the will of the master; even leaving the field to further and satisfy selfish desires. "Much water was left to do damage and to be wasted. Before the field was more than half watered the turn was over. A week later the Master returned. Upon seeing the master's displeasure, forth came the repenting servant, praying forgiveness for his ir- reparable injury. The Master finally forgave the servant and kept him in his employ. "At the close of the month, when the pay-check was received, forth hurried the servant, 'I thought. O Master, thou didst frankly forgive thy servant. You have held out the day for which I was forgiven. Shouldn't I have full pay?' ' 'My servant,' quoted the Master positively, 'I frankly forgave you your trespass; and will stand the loss at the harvest, but I cannot pay you for work left undone.' " Then followed the editor's note, "How well this 'Corn Story' might be applied in each life. Some men have been known to turn

WHEN FLOWING TIDES EBB 219 from their assignments into bypaths, making money, it is true, but often losing what money cannot buy. Then, too late in life, praying for forgiveness and unearned rewards, they meet disappointment. Young men, especially, should anxiously grasp opportunities before the door-way is obstructed, remembering that every one has a 'watering-turn.' " "Thank you, thank you," exclaimed the young man as he returned the clipping. "That strikes me mighty hard. You must have known I needed it." Before Glen closed his eyes that night he had taken a complete "summer-sault" in his determinations. "Why not go home on this ticket?" he reasoned, "I know I should do it! The very last thing father said was, "Now, son, remember, we'll share the potatoes if you change your mind; there's plenty for all our needs." Then Edna in her letter said that mother felt terribly over my going. As the boy lay meditating, while the wind swept across the wild coun- try, his younger boyhood life began panoramically to unfold before him. With astonishing freshness he lived through one scene after another, even coming right down to the potato patch, the clothes- line, the long and almost rebellious talk with his parents, the parting with Edna and his parents, the past two weeks' work, the terrible windstorm, and here he was, now needlessly away off here spending his days almost in prodigality and his evenings and nights in a bunk- house pandemonium. "But I said I wouldn't return until Christmas," he reasoned, "and I've already thought of stepping in on the Eve and playing Santa Claus." As he tried to think of staying, a feeling of anxiety that was almost distressing depressed him. "If I really had to stay, it would be different," he reasoned. "With the going of the milk-man in the morning, I'll leave these troublesome vexations behind. I'll not wait, Christmas or no Christmas! I'm sure it's my move. I know I'll always be sorry if I fail to go. That corn story certainly helped to settle the matter." Long after the other fellows were breathing, heavily, Glen turned things over, time and time again. Finally, feeling that he had clung to the darker side of doubt long enough, he exclaimed almost aloud, and not apologetically either, "It's settled. I leave this detestable ranch in the morning! I wouldn't trade our place for the whole blamed thing, cows, hay and all!" "Now fellows," exclaimed Mr. Daniels, rather positively, as he came into the eating room next morning, "we're sure in for a storm! The clouds can't hold up many hours. By noon she'll be coming from the northwest in great style. If so. there'll be nothing doing for a few days at least; possibly a week — anyway until the hay dries a bit after the storm. If any of you fellows are leaving for

220 IMPROVEMENT ERA good, I should know it. A full house will be needed when we start afresh." The men eyed one another. They already had guessed as much. The foreman continued, "Those of you what's wishing to chore about are welcome to your grub and bunk. I never turn men off entirely." "I guess I'm hitting the trail South this morning, Mr. Daniels," Glen declared determinedly. "Made up my mind last night! I'm going home to be ready for the University when it begins." "Well say, how often do you change your mind, anyway? Only about three days ago you were in for staying until Christmas. Anything gone wrong, Hammond?" and the foreman pulled his pipe from his mouth in his characteristic style when he was anxious to get at the heart of things hurriedly. "Not a thing wrong, Mr. Daniels. I just feel I should go, so have made up my mind." Two hours later as the storm broke, young Hammond with a $40 check in his pocket, stepped from the milk-truck to the station platform. "Well, Benson, what's the damage for the ride?" "Two dollars, sir! But Old Daniels up at the ranch paid it, laughing with all the fellows as he did so. He said he reckoned he owed you that much extra. You know — but I guess you don't — you're the only fellow up there as has stuck with Mixey and the spotted heifers. Seeing the boss hire you that first morning, the bunch then and there knew which critters you'd be in for stripping. They's almost disappointed as to how well you got along. The boss rather kidded them all while you's at the bunk house this morning, for your case." "Oh, those infernal wallopers! I'll get even with the bunch! You tell them for me, that I've cancelled that crate of fruit I was to send. Or I'll send a case so blamed green that it won't ripen the rest of the summer." It was just sundown when Glen's train thundered across fields and pastures that stirred his very soul with their familiarity. And then he heard the two, short signal whistles answer to the con- ductor's pulling of the rope. "I really believe I'm excited," Glen testified to himself, as he made his way down to the door-way. Stepping from the car, the young man came face to face with the fact that he was not the only one remembering the "return ticket." Just a few rods above the moving train was his mother and little six-year-old sister, seated in that "destestable," but now sacred, rig. Out the occupants scrambled even before Glen could reach them, and into his open arms they

WHEN FLOWING TIDES EBB 221 fairly flew. And now that he was safely returned, he could not tell exactly just why all cried a bit, himself included. "Mama just knew you'd come!" the little girl began eagerly as they started homeward in the red glow of the western sky, "so we just hitched up old Judy all by ourselves and drove up to meet you. When the train came scooting so swiftly around that bend down there, Mama exclaimed, 'I'm afraid it won't stop.' And then all at once it went toot — toot! and I jumped and clapped my hands, cause I knew you's coming for sure then. And when I looked at Mama she's almost crying, wasn't you Mama? But say, wouldn't it just been the terriblest thing if it hadn't been you?" And as she sat on her big brother's lap she hugged his arms as they drove forward. After a silence made venerable by familiar gardens, orchards and fields, and last but not least, the clapping of Judy's feet and the rattle of the rig, the little tot began excitedly, "O Glen, Miss Roe called over the phone just as we's leaving. My, but she'll be tickled! She asked mama if she really expected you. And then they talked about the big party tonight. And beside, guess what's happened now? Well, I'll tell you. Old Trilby's got twins! The cutest calves you ever saw. And best of all, they both is she's; and look just like their mother, spots and all. Say, I just bet all the cows and every one else will be tickled you didn't stay until Christmas." Joy The purpose of all that lives and dies. For all that moves and feels and breathes, The meaning of earth and of Paradise — Is Joy, the Joy that Truth bequeaths. The depths, the heights of a soul subdued. The end, the all, the blessedness, The fulness of each Beatitude — ■ Is lo! the promise of happiness. The rite and rote of philosophy, The ultimo of text and song, Religion's troth to man must be — A thing of Joy, or its theme is wrong. An angel fell, nay a God came down To turn the key of mortality, That Faith should bide and Joy encrown To the furthermost posterity. And the stars that swung to their glad employ. When the earth was new and life was young — The Stars of the Dawn that sang for Joy Are singing yet at the feet of Truth! Mesa, Arizona. BERTHA A. K.LEINMAN