"Take care that you judge no life by external evidences, The sources lie so deep that only the loving, sympathetic, helpful eyes of the Father may penetrate so far. And sometimes the loveliest flowers of development are hidden, for the time being, in an outer envelope as unattractive as the screen of the pond-lily, before it pushes its way into bloom and fragrance. Frequently the golden-hearted, the most beautiful characters, have a season of forcing through such bitterly hard conditions, that the stress may very easily awaken repugnance in the minds of those observers who do not understand." "In time to come all the people of the nation will be college graduates. Must we not then as now eat, dress, have places of shelter and methods of keeping clean? The old idea, and the idea which prevails to some extent now, that a man with a college degree cannot take up one of the socalled common tasks is leading the nation to civil strife. We must teach from the beginning that there is dignity in socalled common tasks, just as in the professional tasks. "There is no more divinity in looking at the stars or healing the sick than in hoeing a row of potatoes. We must get the idea of industrial education into the grade schools and begin there to overcome some of the false ideas which now prevail about the common tasks of life."-Dr. John A. Widtsoe. We stand alone and as it were blindfolded, surrounded upon all sides by unknown thresholds, afraid to hope, afraid to fear, knowing only this, that at each forward step the doors are opened for us; ways are made, our burdens are lifted by some great unknown law or power whose purpose we are powerless to fathom. And here upon this threshold we wait for the doors to open, feeling that the load is too heavy, helpers too few, sometimes discouraged, when our grief is strong, and our joy weak, and years and days are so long. And yet we know that the changeless laws of the Almighty will come to our relief, and good will take the place of ill; and knowing this, the words, "Not as I will" grow sweet and still sweeter each time our lips or our hearts repeat them. And when this blessed thought steals over us like a whispered voice to bless and calm all the loneliness and unrest of our souls, we feel to say, even more and more earnestly, knowing that we but follow One who has trodden the path before, "Not our will but Thine be done."-George D. Kirby. A WONDER-SPOT IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS, NEAR AFTON, WYOMING (See Editors' Table in this number of the ERA.) IMPROVEMENT ERA VOL. XVII JULY, 1914 No. 9 The Parable of the Owl Express A Recollection of Student Days BY DR. JAMES E. TALMAGE During my college days, now more than a quarter of a century past, I was one of a class of students appointed to fieldwork as a part of our prescribed courses in geology, the science that deals with the earth in all of its varied aspects and phases, but more particularly with its component rocks, the structural features they present, the changes they have undergone and are undergoing the science of worlds. A certain assignment had kept us in the field many days. We had traversed, examined, and charted, miles of lowlands and uplands, valleys and hills, mountain heights and canyon defiles. As the time allotted to the investigation drew near its close, we were overtaken by a violent wind-storm, followed by a heavy snow,— unseasonable and unexpected, but which, nevertheless, increased in intensity so that we were in danger of being snow-bound in the hills. The storm reached its height while we were descending a long and steep mountain-side, several miles from the little railway station, at which we had hoped to take train that night for home. With great effort we reached the station late at night, while the storm was yet raging. We were suffering from the intense cold incident to biting wind and driving snow; and, to add to our discomfiture, we learned that the expected train had been stopped by snow-drifts a few miles from the little station at which we waited. The station was but an isolated telegraph-post; the stationhouse comprised but one small room, a mile away from the nearest village. The reason for the maintenance of a telegraph-post at this point was found in the dangerous nature of the road in the vicinity, and the convenient establishment of a water-tank to supply the engines. The train for which we so expectantly and hopefully waited, was the Owl Express-a fast night train connecting large cities. Its time-schedule permitted stops at but few and these the most important stations; but, as we knew, it had to stop at this out-of-the-way post, to replenish the watersupply of the locomotive. Long after midnight the train arrived, in a terrific whirl of wind and snow. I lingered behind my companions, as they hurriedly clambered aboard, for I was attracted by the engineer, who, during the brief stop, while his assistant was attending to the water replenishment, bustled about the engine, oiling some parts, adjusting others, and generally overhauling the panting locomotive. I ventured to speak to him, busy though he was. I asked how he felt on such a night,-wild, weird, and furious, when the powers of destruction seemed to be let loose, abroad and uncontrolled, when the storm was howling and when danger threatened from every side. I thought of the possibility-the probability even-of snow-drifts or slides on the track; of bridges and high trestles, which may have been loosened by the storm; of rockmasses dislodged from the mountain-side;—of these and other possible obstacles. I realized that in the event of accident through obstruction on or disruption of the track, the engineer and the fireman would be the ones most exposed to danger; a violent collision would most likely cost them their lives. All of these thoughts and others I expressed in hasty questioning of the bustling, impatient, engineer. His answer was a lesson not yet forgotten. In effect he said, though in jerky and disjointed sentences: "Look at the engine head-light. Doesn't that light up the track for a hundred yards or more? Well, all I try to do is to cover that hundred yards of lighted track. That I can see, and for that distance I know the road-bed is open and safe. And," he added, with what, through the swirl and the dim lamp-lighted darkness of the roaring night, I saw was a humorous smile on his lips, and a merry twinkle of his eye, "believe me, I have never been able to drive this old engine of mine, God bless her! so fast as to outstrip that hundred yards of lighted track. The light of the engine is always ahead of me!" As he climbed to his place in the cab, I hastened to board the first passenger coach; and, as I sank into the cushioned seat, in blissful enjoyment of the warmth and general comfort, offering strong contrast to the wildness of the night without, I thought deeply of the words of the grimy, oil-stained engineer. They were full of faith-the faith that accomplishes great things, the faith that gives courage and determination, the faith that leads to works. What if the engineer had failed; had yielded to fright and fear; had refused to go on because of the threatening dangers? Who knows what work may have been hindered; what great plans may have been nullified; what God-appointed commissions of mercy and relief may have been thwarted, had the engineer weakened and quailed? For a little distance the storm-swept track was lighted up; for that short space the engineer drove on! We may not know what lies ahead of us in the future years, nor even in the days or hours immediately beyond. But for a few yards, or possibly only a few feet, the track is clear, our duty is plain, our course is illumined. For that short distance, for the next step, lighted by the inspiration of God, go on! PROVO, UTAH Papa's Treasure Freckled face and tangled hair, Language that is crude and coarse, Starlight dances in his eyes, Search the world, from east to west, God protect my darling boy, May his mind be bright and strong, If he cannot bless my name, Bid him leave his childish play, In thy mansions fair above, ALFRED OSMOND |