--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Grant, Carter E. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 31 number: 5 published: 1928-03 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Carter E. Grant, “The Secret Divulged,” *Improvement Era* 31, no. 5 (March 1928): 408–410." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3105unse 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: improvementera3105unse start_page: 408 end_page: 410 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1928-03) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera3105unse 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 Secret Divulged The Secret Divulged By Carter E. Grant, Jordan L. D. S. Seminary "Nope!" declared the prosperous Dry Farmer positively, "I've never even talked about it to the wife there. Be- sides, I've come to notice that bunches of things happening for teaching lessons are meant pretty well for the receiver himself and no one else. And then, you see, the other fellow is kept from check- ing on your doings, exclaiming all the while, 'See, I told you so!' " "That's Aaron, over and over!" de- clared the trim figure of a middle-aged wife, as she continued across the large porch, carrying a well filled butter-bowl. "If he's something he's wishing to keep, you'll have a time getting it! You surely will. You might as well try sprouting the wheat they're drilling in those dusty fields yonder. It takes a bit of coaxing — a little rain and sunshine. That's how it is, Mr. Weston. And then, after that, it's generally shooting and green before you think it's hardly sprouting. Aaron's just that way. You see, he's lived with the wheat a good many years now." At this, the woman disappeared down the cement steps, leading into a large dairy- cellar. As warned by a good house-wife, the enthusiastic farm journal correspondent, knowing how frail his write-up would be without Mr. Ball's story of things, pro- ceeded more carefully. "How long did you say, Mr. Ball, you struggled against odds here before you be- gan pulling things your way?" "Well, it was five years to the very fall. And, as I was telling you, they were long, hard ones, and mostly cloudy. If the sun broke through at all, it seldom stayed long enough at a spell to make us notice it. You see, until we turned farmers we'd had some sort of wages, at least every month, but after being here a while we got nothing but debts and dun- ners. But we're forgetting those days now, sir — just setting 'em aside, thank goodness!" And the owner of the great stretches of well tilled soil arose, and, step- ping to the side of the porch, gazed in- tently across the large field with eyes set toward the rising dust from his drills and tractor. The journal writer, looking well to- ward his own interests, suggested to him- self, "I believe I'm making it all right. That kodak's bulging with telling shots about the ranch here; now, if I can just get this man's story as to how it was ac- complished, the whole think will sell like hot cakes." A second later Mr. Ball turned testi- fyingly as he reached his wide-rimmed white hat, "I'm sure I've sacked up every- thing for you but the chaff! Your paper isn't so blamed interested as you think in my business, I'm sure of that. Hear that tractor down yonder? Doesn't sound just right to me!" And then both men pro- ceeded down toward the motor shed. As the drilling outfit was now at the farthest end of the field, the conversation again reverted to past crops, weather, successes, etc. "Well," exclaimed Mr. Ball, finally, "surely you're persistent! I guess I may as well tell you right out how we kept going and saved the farm. The incident back of it seems more forceful to me, possibly, because I've never shared the tale with any- one! I seem to be a sort of believer in the old adage that there's bushels of virtue in the secret what's known to thyself alone. At least, that's how I've settled it. "That particular fall I have in mind," continued the man with the broad hat, whose face and eyes talked expressively, "we just seemed backed into the farthest corner of emptyness! For a fact, that's how it appeared. Being discouraged, hard- ly expresses how I felt. Many and many THE SECRET DIVULGED 409 a time when I got my mail I went out to the stable to read the letters for they were all of the cloudy sort. As time wore on, every turn seemed flanked by dis- appointments, mortgages, and creditors. At times I felt we were staked out. and had reached the last dead halt of the rope's end. Mary and I again started looking toward the old tedious working-man's life. Already we were dreading the loss of what freedom we'd had. for the wife and chil- dren and I had spent many happy hours together, in spite of our ups and downs. "What you seem to be after, though, happened fifteen years ago this very fall — just such a day as this. I was down on that big field yonder, drilling the very last speck of grain we could rake up. That very morning, rather anticipating failure, I protested to the wife, 'No need seeding this wheat, Mary! We'll never be staying for the harvest. The most sensible thing to do is to turn it into mush and flour for the family, making sure of something at least until I can find a job.' But, as usual, Mary insisted on going as far as possible; so down to the drilling I went. "As we had but little rain that year, things were dry and dusty. But I had kept the harrows going, leaving a dandy mulch on top. During the afternoon, while giving the horses a puff, I climbed down from the drill and lay stretching myself for a moment in the warm autumn sun. "Very nearly worried to death, I began turning things over and over in my mind again, trying to convince myself that it might be possible, in spite of everything, to get enough seed to do the planting, and that somehow we could live through another year. As I raised upon my elbow, I happened to notice a little red ant, struggling with amazing energy; carrying, pulling, and half dragging a plump kernel of wheat along. At first as I gazed at its rapid shifts and maneuverings, I sup- posed the little fellow was excited at my presence; but as I watched more closely, I found that this alertness was a sort of native characteristic of the tiny fellow's working methods. Never pausing for an instant, it just kept its burden moving slowly and surely forward, and always in the same direction. " 'Where on earth do you think you're bound?' I half demanded, as my eyes carefully scanned the level field ahead of it. 'When you really find the job you've tackled,' I continued, 'you'll soon be off for new picking!' "As I was rising to leave, my eyes caught sight of another little tribesman, coming like a 'bear for honey.' 'A fight for sure!' I exclaimed, leaning closer, very determined that the refereeing job should end in proper rewards. 'If that stranger's too much for this original possessor or attempts any "rough stuff," it'll surely hear from me!' And I emphasized the thought by determining the punishment of the rival, should it prove the stronger. To my great surprise, both little red bodies tackled the wheat together and away they hurried. Now, one worked backward, then the other, then both moved side- wise, switching, turning, twisting, push- ing as they proceeded toward their destina- tion. 'I'll bet that new-comer is the first party's wife,' I announced half jocularly. "Scanning the ground on every side as I stepped out in the direction the ants were traveling. I found no sign of hill or hole; cellar or granary. Then I stood looking doubtfully across the large field towards the sagebrush-fence line. As a marker, I dropped my handker- chief and climbed upon the drill and was off. By the time I returned, I was in- tensely interested. After a little careful search, there were my friends again. But what do you think I saw? Well, each tiny little 'red-pepper' now had a kernel of its own! There they were, a few inches apart, working laboriously yet anxiously for- ward. I was plum disgusted; and could they have understood plain English they would certainly have changed their manner of 'carrying-on.' Once more I hurried past them on a trip of inspection, but found no sign of winter-quarters. "Again I drove away saying, 'How on earth do those little red specks of bony shell and legs know where they are going? Who tells them that these short days and cool nights are hurrying on toward the 410 IMPROVEMENT ERA long winter? Something certainly puts it into their tiny heads that only by in- cessant labor can they cherish hopes of surviving.' Then, as I scanned the field on every side, I wondered how many other little red scouts were at that very moment returning tediously toward some appointed rendezvous. "The autumn evening was settling cold and dusky as I leaned down to watch the little couple a minute before bidding them good-night. As far as I could interpret matters, the fence line some ten hours away was their destination. Then, as I drove homeward, again and again I re- peated, 'When will those little folks give- up or give-out?' And then I added per- plexingly, 'Can it be possible they mean to go all night?' "You know, Mr. Weston, from then until now, when I have thought of the ants, I have been angry at myself for not getting a lantern and following those bits of per- sistency to some satisfactory ending. At least I could tell my friends something about ants that I have never seen written in a book. "That evening as I did my chores, the lesson taught by those sturdy little red bugs gripped itself upon me. So force- Sandy, Utah. fully was it, that my own mountain- like trails hid themselves in the back- ground; especially so as I began consider- ing my superior judgment, intelligence, and reason. You know, I felt that those little creatures were showing persever- ance and endurance beyond anything I had ever known. "That very night the tide turned; no one ever heard me telling my trouble any more. The family marveled at my sud- den change, and as I'd never discuss the reason they all had it down in black and white that I'd had some strange apparition cross my pathway. Little did they realize how lowly were the messengers. "My creditors, being overwhelmed by my new stock of persistency, came through with enough help that I secured plenty of seed and a year's grist besides. "That's about the whole story, sir! Only that we all kept moving until that seeding was finished. Some of the fellows down the line swore that I was drilling too early, but a storm was brewing and we were determined to finish before it broke. By the time winter set in. our fields were beautiful to look at — green as spring pastures! Those busy ants did it." The Seed of Love A wee little seed in my garden grew, Where it came from I did not know. It lay cold and still the long winter through. Frozen and covered with snow. The spot where it lay was kissed by the sun. And the seed to a flower grew; It trembled and smiled as it burst into bloom— A blossom of wonderful hue. A wee spark of love J found in my heart. When it entered I cannot say; It burst into flame as your lovely form came Smiling so sweetly today; Then I knew why the seed in my garden fell, Why 'twas kissed by the sun and grew, 'Twas the flower of love; it come from above: I will pluck it and give it to you. Elko, Nevada. GEORGE J. FOX