This post has nothing to do with Keepa’s usual topic. I’m merely using Keepa as a place to park this information, in hopes that Google might eventually bring the right person here.
Louis James Claude (1825-1893) was a civil engineer, born in England, who was involved with the mechanics of locomotives, steam-driven ships, and similar engines. He obtained several patents in the 1840s. In 1851 he emigrated to the United States, and after short stays in Ohio and Kentucky, settled in Sauk County, Wisconsin. He married Elvira Ward in 1856, and was the father of two children – one of them, Louis Ward Claude, because a noted architect.
I am in possession of the 1843 notebook of Louis James Claude, which records the specifications for numerous engines, some general information on calculating diameters and lengths of various engineered parts, and the estimates of costs of some engines. There are a few sketches (not many) of mechanical parts, with measurements given.
I Think of My Savior
By Samuel B. Mitton
I think of my Savior, His mercy and love,
I think of His most humble birth;
How He left His beautiful mansion above,
To dwell among men on the earth.
I think of Him, too, as with tender caress,
He took each dear child on His knee,
And said, as each brow felt His lips’ gentle press,
“Let the little ones come unto me.
Let the little ones come unto me.”
I think of His sorrow, His anguish, and pain,
Of how His life’s blood freely ran,
When He on the cross was so cruelly slain,
To give life eternal to man.
O may I be worthy to see Him above,
And share His sweet love freely giv’n,
And hear His kind words said in mercy and love,
“For of such is the kingdom of heav’n.
For of such is the kingdom of heav’n.”
Samuel B. Mitton also wrote music for this hymn.
A glimpse at the trusses supporting the roof of the Salt Lake Tabernacle:
The post I got up early to write is just not working, so I have to fall back on some filler this morning. Sorry — I’m trying to do more of what so many of you said you wanted, more original writing and fewer transcribed documents, but some mornings I’m just not ready for that.
I loved Richard L. Evans “sermonettes,” read during the Choir’s Sunday broadcast. Here’s a sentimental and reassuring one from 1951, for your morning history fix.
Journey for the Future
By Richard L. Evans
When we have lost those who have meant much to us in the past, and when we have lost with them a pattern of life that we have lived and loved in the past, there is often also a loss of interest in the future, and often a tendency to let down in discouragement and doubt. In short, the person who does not feel sure that there is going to be an acceptable tomorrow, does not usually trouble himself to plan too much for tomorrow.
And so, in time of disappointment and sorrow and uncertainty, there is a tendency to live from day to day, mentally and physically and spiritually, and creative interests and activities seem to slow down, and when they do the world and all who live in it are losers. Furthermore, the loss is permanent. In a sense we can never make up back work, because each day brings its own fulness of time and of opportunities and of things that could or should be done.
From the Relief Society Magazine, 1960 –
The Rich, Full Years
By Betty Lou Martin
The wind was blowing slightly, ruffling Emma McDowell’s silver-gray hair. She smiled bravely as she walked toward the car where Sarah Drake was waiting to take her home for the last time. She paused for a moment to take one last look at the place where she had spent thirty years of working days of her life. An empty, lost feeling swept over her, and, in spite of the hot summer day, she felt chilled and shuddered in the sunlight.
“We’re going to miss you at the factory, Emma,” Sarah commented as they drove home. “It won’t be the same. Ten more years and I guess that they will give me my walking papers, too. It is a funny thing about age sixty-five. They think that upon your sixty-fifth birthday they should stamp you too old and file you away somewhere.”
From the August 2015 Friend —
From the June 1960 Children’s Friend —
Most of these questions from 111 years ago are, I think, more interesting for what they tell us about how the Church has changed in all that time than for the surface information they carry. What do you think?
1. Speculation about the content of Church meetings “in the meridian of time” is really just that – speculation. There may be scriptural basis for a few of the details, but those scriptural references are not given. The ancient Church is made to appear as nearly identical to the modern Church as possible. On the other hand, maybe this isn’t really such a change – Daughters in My Kingdom may not have gone quite this far with quite this level of details, but the implication in that book is that today’s Relief Society is the current model of a women’s auxiliary that existed anciently.
2. Marching in Sunday School is something we’ve talked about before, and a link to the earlier article is provided in that paragraph. It’s been years since I’ve been in Primary – Is there anything today that attempts to regulate the exuberance of children moving between class time and Sharing Time?
3. I am still astonished by the number of articles I see from a hundred or more years ago that are concerned with sons of perdition. In my experience, this is something that just doesn’t come up today, or if it does it is limited to a few sentences in a plan of salvation lesson or an appropriate Doctrine & Covenants lesson. Why do you suppose the sons of perdition were of such fascination to earlier generations with their identity, condemnation, and ultimate destination such frequent topics of discussion?
Keepa’ninny Rachelle has written in with the story of the involvement of one part of her family with the Order of Aaron, mentioned the other day in this post featuring letterhead from that organization. She was sensitive enough to my preferences to send me her comment privately rather than simply posting it – thank you, Rachelle. And then when I thought it was important to correct my introductory comment on that post, she has allowed me to post this as a separate post rather than burying it in the comments of an aging post.
The correction is that I referred to polygamy as one of the tenets of this group. Jeffery Johnson challenged that last night, and Rachelle gives additional information to refute that charge. I’ve gone back to read my documents on this group and realize that my impression comes from the charges that were made at the time, in the mid-1940s, which Maurice Glendenning, leader of the Order of Aaron, disputed at the time. Rachelle’s history mentions an experiment in communal living; perhaps that, or vintage Latter-day Saint assumptions that all apostate groups must of course support polygamy, accounts for the charges made in 1945. In any case, those accusations came from people with some hostility to the Order of Aaron. We should let people speak for their own beliefs, and I apologize for my misunderstanding and misdirection. Plural marriage was not, from the evidence at hand, a tenet of this group.
Here’s Rachelle’s note:
Next Page »
Two Newspaper Women
Ruth M. Fox
Two women sat in the church one day,
One was shabby and bent and gray;
Why didn’t the old woman keep out of the way?
The other, they said, was a lady born,
Of gentle mien and lovely form;
She had fairly taken the city by storm.
One sat there alone, none called her name
Or gave her a smile — ’twas all the same —
She knew nothing better, the poor old dame.
One was surrounded by friends not a few,
Wealth and fashion made much ado;
Ah, I wonder if their hearts were true.
The tones of the organ lulled one to sleep,
For all day long her tired feet
Had traversed the pavement — the same old beat.
For the other, the melody rose and fell,
Thrilling her being with its spell,
Winging her soul to where angels dwell.
One wrote for the newspapers, winning fame,
Stirred men’s souls with her rhythmical vein.
The press of the country extolled her name.
The other sold newspapers for daily bread;
Such is life with its toil and dread;
Through heat or cold, it was tread, tread, tread.
She read that day that the lady fair
Would list to strains of music rare
In the far-famed church, so straightway there
She wended her way. On the lady’s face,
Lit up with intellectual grace,
She gazed and wondered, but kept her place
As a poor old newswoman always should.
She might be bad, she might be good;
Did any one care? Alone she stood.
Yet each walks the path marked by His rod,
‘Twas a lowly path the Master trod,
And each is owned — a child of God.