--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Marsh, M. Thirl collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 31 number: 4 published: 1928-02 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "M. Thirl Marsh, “A Rough Road to College,” *Improvement Era* 31, no. 4 (February 1928): 316–320." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3104unse 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: improvementera3104unse start_page: 316 end_page: 320 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1928-02) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3104unse 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. --- # A Rough Road to College A Rough Road to College By M. Thirl Marsh Russel Brcmond was a lad of unusual character, his life thus far had been quite exemplary and he had gained the confi- dence and respect of all who knew him. He had always been a firm believer in the so- called "Mormon" Church and the training which he had received in its many auxili- aries had proved his greatest asset. His activity in the home ward, too, had played its part in identifying his distinction. But since he had been working for the railroad company things1 had seemingly changed. His fellow-workmen were of a very careless and unprincipled type. If any spiritual or moral training had been given them, it could not be observed. They were continually slurring, reviling and making light of the "Mormon" sissy. Working in such an environment had sprouted the long-withered seeds of dis- couragement which grew into hatred even against his Church, and now Russel Bre- mond's feeling of discomfort caused him to have a disregard for the boyhood plans which he and Jim Warner had made and to which they had become so endeared. He and Jim had grown up as pals and had graduated from the South Park high school together. The day following the com- mencement exercises, held at the high school auditorium where they were awarded their diplomas, they left to seek employment which would enable them to enter college in the Fall. At the railroad company's office, Jim was given a job, but, unfortunately, there was only one such position open and con- sequently Russel had to be contented for the present with a job on the construction gang. As a result Jim had escaped the undesirable factions accompanying the job of his companion. To Russel each day seemed but coals added to the fire of des- pondency. Pay-day arrived, but with it came a shadow which darkened the usual smiling countenances of a pair of life-time friends — "But Russ, don't you see how it will ruin our plans for college this Fall?" "I told you I was 'pullin' my stakes tomorrow. Anyway, Jim, what's the use? Look at old Tom Benchley down there, the richest old man in seven states and he never went to school a day in his life." Russ' answer came as an excuse, and he knew the fallacy of such reasoning. Jim Warner's inducements had always been encouraging and generally brought a favorable reaction; in fact, it was this thing which had made Russel Bremond's hard- earned high school career seem worth while. For the first time Jim's words seemed empty and carried little weight. "I'll see you in the morning before I leave, Jim," said Russel, leaving his com- panion sitting on the lawn in front of the railroad office, where both had just re- ceived their pay-checks. As Jim sat gazing at the setting sun, his thoughts came in reality with the many colors which seemed to be so inseparably blended together in the west, just as had been the lives and many experiences of himself and Russel Bremond. He re- gretted that his old pal was leaving him. but his ideals were set on the day when he would receive his degree at the uni- versity. He had hoped they might carry out their long-cherished plans together. Russel's last night in the old bunk house was a long one. Midnight found him still sleeplessly rolling about on his cot. It seemed that his whole life's his- tory had been filmed before him, and he admitted in a half whisper that Jim was his inward superior and was a leader among his mates, just as he himself had been be- fore that cruel epidemic (influenza) had taken both father and mother in the same week and left him with a heartless uncle. His parents were both active members of A ROUGH ROAD TO COLLEGE 317 the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and a wonderful couple. He re- membered how their affection had en- wrapped him. The kisses of his mother seemed as fresh on his lips as when she had sent him off to Primary. Sunday school, and finally to the district school. And his father's every act seemed to thrill and inspire him with the hope that some day he would be like his father. He well remembered his fight with Jim Warner, a newcomer at school, who now seemed more than a friend, more like an older brother, he imagined. How he had cheered his parents that night (now seven years past) with the news that he had been chosen president of the deacon's quorum and elected leader of the eagle patrol in the special scout meet- ing called immediately after priesthood meeting. And then that awful time when ven- geance came under the name of influenza and made its attack. "And Jim bravely helped me bear it all, and now I am shattering the plans we held so dear," Russ was thinking. Morning found Russel Bremond care- lessly weighing out his last bits of con- sideration. The thought of going to work that morning brought back more recent memories of the old grind, and seemed to chill his whole body. After a disgusting look out of the window at the large, half- completed railroad bridge, a smile came over his face as he exclaimed. "My vaca- tion has won!" With valise in hand. Russ made his way to Jim's room to bid him good-bye. Together they walked a little distance down the track toward the station, a half mile to the south. With hands clasped tight, each met the other's glance, and as their eyes moistened, both were impressed that their separation would be a brief one. Russel's "good-bye" was forced through a lump in his throat. "So long, Jim, boy." "May God guide us both," returned Jim as he started back toward a ringing break- fast bell. The last words of his companion gave Russel a momentary thrill. It had been some time now since he had even thought seriously of that great Being to whom he had often prayed in his younger life: the God who had comforted him in times of distress: had assisted him in his acts of righteousness, and had been his heart's companion when confronted with those never-to-be-forgotten boyhood problems which then seemed almost insurmountable hills of failure and defeat. "Yes — and He — still lives and will always be ready to help fifty-fifty." The shrill whistle of a train replaced in his mind other thoughts, and told him he must quicken his step, for the station was still almost a quarter of a mile ahead. Russel bought his ticket to Silvcrton. where he would visit Frank Hearne, his cousin, and then go on to California, where he hoped to work no more than enough to sustain himself and enjoy a few of the pleasures afforded by the California he had read about. Aboard the train, he found the soft plush cushions much more comfortable than the wooden benches of the old bunk house. But this rendered ease only to his body, his mind was crowded with ques- tions for which there seemed no answers. He took another seat. and. glancing out of the window, he saw the hot, sandy desert sparsely decked here and there with bits of shrubbery; a vivid picture often described in western stories. But it was too lonely, too desolate, deficient of any- thing that might dominate his former thoughts. Once he almost decided to re- turn— "but there was uncle" — no he would go on. A few hours' ride brought him to the home town of his cousin. Here Russel got his first glimpse of a large mining town — peculiar in its setting, and yet with many of the modern facilities of the up-to-date American city. Silver- ton had always been a thriving, busy town with plenty of money in circulation and well filled with happy, care-free, typical westerners. But today there was some- thing unusual — Russel had already noticed several large groups of men gathered here and there who — from the tone of their rough voices — seemed to be discussing a subject of great importance. From his cousin that afternoon. Russ 318 IMPROVEMENT ERA learned that the Silver Hill Mining com- pany had just struck a bonanza, and the evening paper revealed the plans of the company to put on one hundred extra em- ployees and raise their wage scale to six dollars a shift. It was quite an attraction for the new- comer and he sat for over an hour think- ing— his countenance, darkening now and then, revealed little obstructions entering into his again revolutionizing plans. At last he reached a conclusion: "I can save my money and (recalling Jim's words) God will guide us." Russel knew practically nothing about a mining camp, but the liberal wages made such an appeal that he needed little en- couragement from Frank to respond to the call made for reinforcements at the mine. Early next morning, with renewed de- termination, Russel went to the mine. It was a long climb to the shaft house and several times he stopped to catch his breath and look back down upon the town nestled in the bottom of the little canyon. Arriving at the shaft, he eagerly watched several cage-loads of men descend into the dark depths of the mine; this gave him a sudden feeling of discomfort. Bracing up, he entered the next cage and as it quickly submerged he was seized with fear and uttered a sharp yell. This was enough to tell his fellow-workmen that he was a new hand at the mining job and you may guess his initiation was embarrassing. Change day came on Sunday and Russel rather dreadfully anticipated the two-weeks' night shift coming on. With little time to make friends. Russel walked alone down one of the streets near the business section of town. A little "Mormon" Church house into which people were gathering caught the young man's eye and he was quickly aware of a feeling of buoyancy within. Changing his course he gayly walked toward the little brick building and upon entering was greeted happily. It was a real treat for Russ; and the prominent part he took in Sunday school class that morning was not unnoticed. The lessons learned in Primary and Sun- day school, together with those taught him by a devoted and sainted mother, now made him appreciate his privilege of again as- sociating with people who were sincere in their religious investigations, and dis- cussing with them the principles of salva- tion. A feeling of happiness permeated his whole being and he became conscious of an awakening of his former self. One by one his fruitless, empty, imaginations of a vacation were replaced by firm resolutions to serve his fellow-men and become in- strumental in making the cause of right- eousness universal. At the time, however, Russ had again discovered an undesirable working ele- ment, but time was going fast, pay-days came regularly and by working overtime his checks were unusually large. His fore- most desire now was to live and do right. and ever in his mind were the words, "God will guide us." As Spring arrived, came the welcoming messages of twittering birds, warm rays of sunshine. The fragrance of flowers scented the air, and filled with gladness the hearts of all nature-lovers. But it was something greater than the call of nature that carved the smile on Russel Bremond's face and made his heart swell with joy — it was the call of God — a call to the British mission. All winter long a secret had been con- fined in Russ' heart — why had he not written to Jim — no, he hadn't forgotten his old pal, but, on the contrary, had spent hours pondering over their many expe- riences. At times he had even started to write him a letter; but each endeavor was outweighed by his increasing desire to sur- prise him with the news that they could still live in reality their dreams of college life so long and fondly cherished. But now, what would be the reaction, it would no doubt be a big surprise to Jim, but would it be one of envying happiness or an angry disappointment? Knowing as he did Jim's mental and moral qualities, he was quite positive of the former. The farewell party was grand. The excellent program and the many courtesies of well-wishers, all blended with a spirit of love, made his happiness so replete that only tears could bespeak his appreciation. On his way to the Mission Home, in A ROUGH ROAD TO COLLEGE 319 Salt Lake City, next day, Russel called at South Park to bid his former friends good- bye. His first call was at the home of Jim Warner. At the door he was greeted by Jim's mother. Her words came like an answer to his prayer. "Why, Russel, how well and happy you look. Jim tried so hard to find you before he left for his mission." "'Mission!" broke in Russ. Alpine, Utah. "Yes. he left four months ago for the British mission and he" — she got no further for Russ could wait no longer to tell his story. Conceivable only to imagination was the beaming expression on the face of Russel Bremond. Had one been present, one might have heard these words: "God did guide us both, and to a college greater by far than any headed by mortal man." "Prove It" By Orton Mitchell Not infrequently the elders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, after they have borne testimony to the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon, receive the poignant challenge — "Prove it." You have made your assertion of what you deem to be facts, now the burden of proof falls* on you. "We're from Missouri, we must have concrete evidence." When I was a small child. I remember having heard stories by old trappers and prospectors, who frequented the deserts of Utah, Nevada, and Arizona, of men who were able, by the aid of a forked stick, to locate water when their supply had run out and their lives were in jeopardy from thirst. That seemed strange indeed to me, and I couldn't help regarding such tales with a little suspicion. Not long ago my companion and I were making some visits to friends along the Hudson river, in the state of New York. One of the friends was a very kind min- ister, a Reverend Rice, whom we had met some time before. He has a country home in Vermont, he told us, and a piece of property of considerable size, in which it is located. It is situated in a rather moun- tainous district, a very beautiful spot, but it has one draw-back. The only spring on the place is in an awkward place, at quite a long distance from the house. A certain man. a native of Vermont, who was improving the property for the Reverend, suddenly dug a hole in the ground at a place where there were no visible signs of water (apparently a very good way to waste time) but, to the utter astonishment of the clergyman, a cool spring of water gurgled forth. Upon being questioned as to just how he knew the spring was there, the man simply pro- duced the traditional forked stick. The reverend was interested. "Can you locate water near the house?" he queried. "Wal, I reckon I can if theye's any there," replied the native. So the two men walked leisurely toward the house, the native calm and bearing an air of preoccupancy, the minister pro- foundly interested and not a little excited. When the house was reached, the man from Vermont grasped the forked stick by the two prongs, and, holding it firmly, the single end projecting in front of him, began a circle of the house. At first it looked as if the experiment was going to be a failure, for the man wore a puzzled expression and continued his groping. But suddenly, witji no ap- parent cause, the instrument pointed down- ward. As if impelled by a cord in the indicated spot, the two men dug a hole. They found water. Not content, however, with the single exhibition, the employer had the workman perform the feat again and again in spots which he indicated. No water was found 320 IMPROVEMENT ERA in many of the places, where they dug without the indicator's help, but every time the stick indicated it, they excavated and not once did they fail to find water, and reasonably close to the surface. Mr. Rice then requested that he be shown how to use the instrument. Where- upon he was instructed to hold it a certain way and just let it guide him. At first he got on very clumsily, and didn't seem to be making progress. But presently he began to feel the rough oak stick twist in his hands as if the power of gravity were impelling it downward. Again they found water. "This is phenomenal." ejaculated the clergyman, and next day he dictated a lengthy correspondence to an eminent pro- fessor at Harvard, explaining in detail the extraordinary experience he had had and asking the scientist if he would ex- plain to him how science accounted for such phenomena. After a brief interval the professor's reply came. Science, he said, could not account for such a prodigy. So far as it was concerned, in fact, such a phenomenon did not exist. It was an innovation. Said the Reverend: "Now. if I wish to prove this thing, which I know to be a fact, to the professor, I must demonstrate the accuracy of the process a vast number of times under widely varying conditions." "And then," he mused, as if lost in specu- lation. "I wonder if they'd believe me?" I answer, "Yes." Any reasonable per- son would believe, for seeing is believing. But there are a lot of people who wouldn't accept such an innovation. The burden of proof was on the side of the affirmative. He could give them evidence, his demon- Bos ton, Mass. strations could not be accounted for by scholars, but to prove it, he was helpless. A man once tried to prove his existence and went crazy in the attempt. Let us apply this little parable, if we might call it that, to our own predicament when challenged to verify our claims. Can- not we give evidence in abundance? Can- not we show forth fruits of a character which will vindicate our claims? We can, and, furthermore, we can put the honest seeker of the truth in possession of the forked stick which will indicate the place where he can excavate and find oceans of living water at the divine fountain. We can give him the key; nay, he needs but to knock and to him shall be opened a well of wisdom and great treasures of knowledge. And, if he will drink thereof, "he shall never thirst again, but the water that shall be given him shall be given him in a well of water springing up unto ever- lasting life." All this we offer to do for an inquirer after truth, but we can prove nothing be- yond the statements of scripture and the realm of experience and reason. Our forked stick has four prongs instead of two. All th'e better to get hold of. They are: "First, faith in the Lord Jesus Christ: second, sincere (repentance; third, baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; fourth, laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost." "For the promise is unto him, and to his children, and to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call." And if he will but grasp the stick firmly, having been given the Comforter, it will lead him into all truth, and he may "prove all" things and hold fast that which is good. Out of the darkness, Out of the gloom: Out of the valley Up to the moon: Up to the stars, and Up to the sun, Up to the goal Of a race well-run. Chicago, Illinois. Hope Come from the shadows, Come from the pall; Come from the fearings Out through the wall, Dut in the sunshine. Out in the blue, Out where life's joys Can come tumbling through. Far from all worry, Far from all hate. Far from all smallness, Make your soul great! Make your heart happy, Make your thought fine, Make your life part Of heaven — divine. Lorenzo B. Summerhays