Lien on the Land

By Margery S. Stewart

We have not paid enough for this land
And we have forgotten the price our fathers
Gave. We are renters of their holdings,
Disdaining the soil that holds their sweat
And dreams and their blood. A man cannot buy
A country with silver, nor can he keep it
With grudging gold. The hills, from sea to sea,
Stripped of their tall trees, the plains
Robbed to their dust, they hold the imprint
Still of men who loved them. The winds
From Valley Forge blow on the self-seekers
Who would betray us, the careless who have lost
Their shields, on the rusted swords of the
Fearful. High above the nations we stand,
Garlanded with plenty. Beautiful earth!
Fairest under heaven, let us be aware
Of your richness, of your free skies,
And your rivers belonging to us all, of
Your wild lost places, your turbulent streets.
We have not paid enough in love, nor vision,
We have forgotten our children’s children.

(1950)

I haven’t searched the pages of this year’s Teachings of the Presidents manual, but I feel reasonably secure in supposing this story isn’t one that made it into that book:

George Albert Smith’s childhood home was one of financial struggle, in comparison to the homes of his neighbors and those we might consider his social equals. Their homes had lawns; his did not. Their homes had organs; his did not. “But I did have a Jew’s harp,” he recalled, “a harmonica, banjo and a guitar, and I learned to play them.”

He also learned to sing … not necessarily the finest classical tunes, or the romantic hits of the day, but comedy songs, with words that suited his somewhat comedic appearance. He was, after all, very tall, and very thin, with long arms and legs, which he could work to his comedic advantage by exaggerating their disjointed, floppy, gangliness. He also could work his face into a living caricature of himself. His mouth, especially, could be stretched and opened to an exaggerated distance.

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We’ll take a break from the serials this week with some short fiction from our cultural past. First up: Which will win out? Edna’s understandable need for the barest bit of security in life, or her ability to cope with – or even respect – her husband with his generous nature but improvident habits?

From the Relief Society Magazine, March 1938 –

Edna’s Husband

by Mary Ek Knowles

Edna Arnold sat at the big kitchen table, and counted the bills again. “Ten … twenty … thirty … forty … fifty-five … sixty-five … seventy-five … ninety-five … one hundred!” No matter how many times she counted the bills the answer was always the same. She wrinkled her pretty forehead and her blue eyes were troubled. It seemed to her that there should be more money. But there wasn’t! And that one hundred dollars represented the Arnolds’ total worldly wealth. With it they must buy feed for the chickens until they started to lay, pay for any emergencies that might arise, and if eggs didn’t bring as good a price as Edna anticipated, pay the taxes on the farm in the fall.

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Once a year my downtown Salt Lake City stake holds stake conference in the Tabernacle on Temple Square; our other conference of the year is held in the building where my ward meets on most Sundays, a short stroll from Temple Square. Because of our proximity to that historic place, I am told, the wards in my stake sometimes host interesting guests who come unbidden to Salt Lake because they believe they will be sustained as Church leaders at the next General Conference. Some of these, I am told (I’ve never actually met one), have been the Energy Queen of the Universe, the Archangel Gabriel, and enough Michaels to form their own quorum.

I’ve mentioned before, I think, an interesting Sunday School presentation from four or five years ago, where our bishop instructed us what to do as a ward if one of these people were to drop into our meetings. Assuming there was no threat of violence – and there never had been, he assured us – we should listen quietly and without reaction. Most such people, whether mentally ill or simply disaffected members or politically motivated strangers with a cause, simply wanted an audience for their statements and would leave quietly after making their claims or reading their manifestos. Certain men in the ward (he didn’t identify them, but I’ve thought of them ever since as official Ward Bouncers) had been designated to escort such visitors out, and to take more immediate and drastic action should a situation warrant it.

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(Previous installment)

Monday, January 15, 1900

After we had breakfast, we went out in the fields and helped Grandpa roll some big logs, after which we walked back and packed up our grips and started out for another week. Walking about 5 miles we came to Bro. Tony Berritt’s place. He wished us to stay overnight with him. In the afternoon we went out and helped him cut and pile up timber, then after supper we sang songs and talked until bedtime.

Tuesday, January 16, 1900

After breakfast we went out with him again and helped him cut timber until noon, then we helped him make fence, staying with him again overnight.

Wednesday, January 17, 1900

We went out and helped him make fence until noon when we went over to his brother’s place where we ate dinner. Then we went out where they were rolling logs, staying overnight with Archy Berritt.

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For background, see here
previous episode
next episode (to be added when posted)

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Sea Food in Season

With a plate in her hand and a puzzled look on her face, the waitress stopped beside a table.

“Are you the boiled cod?” she asked curtly.

The customer smiled wearily. “No,” he replied. “I’m the hungry sole with an empty plaice, hoping for something to fillet.”

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Note, if you haven’t seen it, that Chapter 9 was posted yesterday so that we can wrap up this serial before the weekend.

Expatriation

By Hugh J. Cannon

Previous Chapter

Chapter 10

Nate had been called out of town on business, and Nell insisted that Jessie help entertain Dick. The three were much together. One evening under a romantic moon they were boat-riding on the lake. Being an adept with cars, the young officer received many compliments from his companions on the dextrous manner in which he handled the craft.

“Do you remember the night on Apia harbor,” Nell asked, “when you told us the story of the hurricane and the wrecking of the warships? Wasn’t it the most dramatic thing you ever heard, Jessie?”

“It certainly was. Haven’t you another one like it?”

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An adult Sunday School lesson from our grandparents’ era:

November 25, 1928

The Doctrine of Non-Resistance

“Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth: But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away.” – Matt. 5:38-42

Basal Readings

Bless them which persecute you: bless, and curse not. Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. Be of the same mind one toward another. Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate. Be not wise in your own conceits. Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things honest in the sight of all men. If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men. Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good. – Romans 12:14-21

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I’ve decided that we need to wrap up this monstrosity this week, recover over the weekend, and get a fresh start on something more pleasant on Monday. Hence, this “bonus” chapter today, with the concluding chapter noonish tomorrow. Repeat with conviction: “It’s only a historic artifact … It’s only a historic artifact …”

Expatriation

By Hugh J. Cannon

Previous Chapter

Chapter 9

Dick and Mrs. Brooke had carried a couch to the porch and laid Nell’s unconscious form upon it. The sea breeze and the solicitous attentions of her friends revived the girl, and she was by no means certain as sensibility returned that Dick had not been kissing her. He was kneeling by the couch and holding her hand. His face was radiant.

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Pictures of Juarez

By Grace Zenor Pratt

Springtime in Juarez – let me return once more –
Fragrance of blossoms, humming of the bees;
The lacy, flowering beauty of the trees. –
Apricot, peach and apple, pear flowers, white
While yards of roses quicken my delight.

Summer in Juarez – let me feel thy breath
From canyon’s shaded gloom and silver streams.
Peace dwell beside me while I sit and dream,
Rest me beside the wide-flung alamo trees,
Breathe the rain-freshened air on every breeze.

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Marba Cannon Josephson (1897-1965), a leader in the YWMIA and later a participant with Belle Spafford in some of the international women’s conferences supported by the Relief Society, was general manager of the Improvement Era when she penned this article:

Woman’s Changed World

… [C]hanges [since the founding of the Improvement Era 40 years earlier] have revolutionized woman’s sphere particularly. Where formerly woman’s work kept her constantly bent over the tub or the stove, modern conveniences have emancipated her and brought a new, hitherto unheard of freedom. Hours of drudgery have dwindled into minutes of rapidly completed work. Where in years past woman was confined almost literally to the kitchen, today she has leisure to do much as she pleases.

What is woman doing with this new-found leisure? Therein lies the secret of her success or failure. Is she frittering away her time with senseless amusements or is she employing her time wisely to benefit herself, her family, her community, her Church?

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For you who have given up on our awful serial, here’s something a little different.

From the Relief Society Magazine, September 1932 –

A Day in Bed

By Estelle Webb Thomas

The doctor was grave. “Yes, a complete rest is what you need, Mrs. Carson, but you absolutely must learn to relax in any case. Whenever you feel one of those nervous attacks coming on spend a day in bed!”

“But Doctor –” began Anne Carson, weakly.

“Oh, I know all the reasons why you cannot possibly take a day off and spend it in bed,” the doctor interrupted briskly. “Nevertheless, it is necessary unless you prefer to spend a year or so in a sanitarium.”

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Expatriation

By Hugh J. Cannon

Previous Chapter

Chapter 8

The visit of the Redfields and Jessie was made shorter than had been anticipated. An unexpected demand was made for the judge’s services at home, but, though important, this call alone would perhaps have remained unheeded except for the fact that the tropical climate did not agree with Mrs. Redfield who was advised by the local doctor to return to the States as soon as possible.

In vain Nell was urged to accompany them, but they all were forced to acknowledge her good judgment in determining to remain until after Nate and Jessie were married and away for Egypt.

The most trying of all farewells are those said to loved ones who are leaving on board ship, the pain of parting is so greatly prolonged. As the vessel steamed slowly out of the harbor of Pago Pago, to which place the travelers were obliged to go because through steamers do not touch at Apia, the dispirited Nell felt as one who, after tasting of heavenly bliss, has suddenly been cast down to infernal darkness.

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The Church’s decades-long operation of Beneficial Life
meshes with mid-century ideals of middle class
family values in this series of advertisements from 1958 –

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Cardston’s Jubilee

By Helen Kimball Orgill

O Cardston fair, with glowing pride, we greet thy natal morn.
All hail to thee who fifty years ago today was born!
With hearts in tune, we’ll sing the praise of stalwart sons and true
Who built in faith with vision bright, built better than they knew!
Unwavered by the tempest’s blast, cold winter’s hoary hand,
They proved unto the doubting ones, this is a favored land.
And Heaven looking down upon the sacrifice they made
Beneficently smiled and said, “Thy glory shall never fade!”
And Truth and Justice from that hour have held unbroken sway,
O’er hearts that beat in unison, down to the present day.
O Canada, we gaze in pride across thy land far-flung
And view achievements great as e’er were told by mortal tongue;
And as in vision bright, we see the future loom in sight,
Across the eastern horizon in rainbow colors bright.
It is for us to keep the faith, our emblem e’er to wave,
And trust in One who ever has been strong and sure to save,
To lead us past the reefs and rocks that lie along the way
While darkness brooding o’er the land, shuts out the light of day,
Our heritage we will hold dear, attuned our minds will be,
Until our love of country will be felt from sea to sea.

(1937)

Part 1 here

In the 1820s and 1830s a great wave of Southerners moved to Indiana. Perhaps the most famous of these were Abraham Lincoln and his family. One young couple, John Jeter and Elizabeth Coleman Crosby, joined this migration. Their family later became influential in the early history of the church.

John was from an old South Carolina family and Elizabeth was from an old Virginia family. Their parents and grandparents served in the Revolutionary War. Elizabeth’s parents moved from Virginia and settled in Union, South Carolina. [1] Elizabeth married John Jeter Crosby and they went to settle in Indiana.

The Crosbys had six children: William, Ann, Susan, Syntha, Elizabeth, and Nancy.

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Lucky you! I just discovered that I hadn’t typed the last two installments in this series (did I lose heart at some point?) — there are *ten* chapters to this tale! O, frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! That much more of this to appreciate!

Expatriation

By Hugh J. Cannon

Previous Chapter

Chapter 7

Mail from the United States did not reach Apia often. Frequently a month would elapse between these interesting periods, but when it did arrive it invariably caused great excitement. Strange it was how eagerly men and women, native and white, waited at the post office though some of them had never received a letter in their lives and had no reason to expect one.

As no mail boat ever reached port without having something for Nell Redfield, she was always an early caller at the post office. A few days after Lieutenant Hawley’s last visit, she was handed more than the usual quota of letters and papers. A bulky one from her father was the first to be opened. After recording a number of unimportant items, it went on to say:

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When Wilford Woodruff and others did the temple work for the Eminent Men and Women, the list of those who had their temple work done included three Irish politicians, John Curran, Henry Grattan, and Daniel O’Connell, and their wives.

During the lifetimes of these men and women, the Catholic population of Ireland lacked basic civil liberties. Curran, Grattan, O’Connell and others helped Irish Catholics regain the ability to practice their religion, attend school, own personal and real property, belong to various professions, and hold public office.

It is little wonder that Wilford Woodruff, who had experienced decades of hardship as he and other members of the Church were forced to flee home after home and plead with an unheeding government for basic rights of life, due process, property, and government representation, would find the story of O’Connell and his compatriots so fascinating.

Daniel O’Connell is known as the Great Liberator. He is one of the national heroes of Ireland, complete with grand monuments built to his memory.

It is only in the past few years that attention has turned to Daniel’s wife, Mary. Her hundreds of existing letters have revealed an affectionate woman, highly invested in her husband’s career and their personal, social, and professional relationships.

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V.

Can You Face Life Squarely?

“Don’t pay any attention to Sally, she always sulks when she doesn’t get her own way.”

“Tom surely has a temper. You never can tell when he’s going to fly off the handle over some little thing.”

“Oh, that’s just one of May’s excuses. She’s good at thinking up reasons to get out of doing things.”

“Jill turns on the tears like water out of a tap. I don’t think she feels so bad; she just seems to cry for effect so we’ll sympathize with her.”

Did you ever hear remarks such as these? They aren’t very flattering and they aren’t very kind, but they indicate how easily we fall into habits of behavior and how our friends soon learn what to expect of us. They also show us the importance of learning to meet little difficulties ina grown-up way.

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So I didn’t get this finished in time to post early, but here it is anyway …

Lesson 4: “The Things Which I Saw
While I Was Carried Away in the Spirit”

1 Nephi 12-14

Purpose: To help class members understand Nephi’s vision of the future and how the warnings and promises in it apply to us today.

Introduction

We pick up the narrative of the Book of Mormon today where we left off last week: in the midst of Nephi’s vision, which he received in answer to his prayerful desire “to know the things that my father had seen” (1 Nephi 11:1). As a reminder of the setting for these events, Lehi and his family are still very near Jerusalem. After Lehi had led them out of the city, they had traveled three days into the wilderness, to the place that Lehi had named the Valley of Lemuel, where he builds an altar of stone and sacrifices to the Lord. That is where they have been all this time. It is from that base that Nephi and his brothers were sent back to Jerusalem, first for the brass plates, and again for the family of Ishmael. They are still there in the Valley of Lemuel when Lehi has his vision of the Tree of Life, and still there when Nephi receives his vision. So despite all the events that have taken place in the first dozen chapters of 1 Nephi, the fact recorded in 1 Nephi 2:15 is still relevant to our lesson today:

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(Previous installment)

Friday, December 22, 1899

The weather was cleared off a little in the morning. We began to stroll around a little but still stayed with Bro. Huffman.

Saturday, December 23, 1899

Bro. Huffman went into town to help in one of the stores. He told us to stay here with him, the weather looking very bad. While he was gone Elder Dean and I went out and chopped up his woodpile. When he came home he was quite surprised in seeing his woodpile all chopped up.

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For background, see here
previous episode
next episode (to be added when posted)

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(more…)

In Ye Good Old Days

Squire: “Did you send for me, my Lord?”

Launcelot: “Yes, make haste. Bring me the can opener; I’ve a flea in my knight clothes.”

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Expatriation

By Hugh J. Cannon

Previous Chapter

Chapter 6

Awaiting Nell in Apia, after her return from Fiji, was a letter form her mother. As usual it was full of expressions of love. The tender heart of Mrs. Redfield yearned for her daughter and no effort was made to hide the fact. One paragraph in the communication made the young lady sit, silent and oppressed for a long time. It contained information that Nate had been going out frequently with Jessie Dean and occasionally with other girls.

“Of course no one knows why you went away, except the Everetts and Mr. Gray, and they will never reveal the secret. Your friends all imagine you and Nate had a lovers’ quarrel and that rather than subdue your pride you broke with him and went to the Islands to visit your birthplace, as you have often said you were going to do. Naturally they think you will soon be coming back and that makes all of them, except Jessie, anxious to capture Nate quickly; for it is apparent that he loves you better than anyone else. He is doing well in his business, has at present a large engineering contract which your father says will make him money and a reputation as well, and is looked upon, therefore, by young ladies and enterprising mothers as a desirable catch.”

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Expatriation

By Hugh J. Cannon

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

Nell told her story simply. It was the more pathetic because of her efforts to leave out of it all tragedy and personal heroism. The young fellow listened with less astonishment than she had anticipated. Before the account was entirely finished he broke in impetuously:

“But there’s not a thing in this history to keep me from saying what I came from Ellice Island to tell you. I love you and want you to be my wife. You can make me as happy as an admiral and at the same time solve your own troubles.”

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Uintah Stake, Utah
Fathers and Sons Outing

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If Joseph Came

By Anna Musser

If Joseph came to see now
Our Zion in the west,
The city we have built to him
Against the mountain crest, –

How many things to show him in
This valley of our peace.
The seed we sowed in pain and want
Has yielded rich increase:

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What questions were the girls sending Catherine Hurst of the Young Woman’s Journal in 1917?

—oooOooo—

“Nettie” – The “Rosary” is oftentimes sung in meeting.

—oooOooo—

“Mrs. T.B.” – If you still bite your fingernails, try dipping the ends of the fingers in a quinine solution or bitter aloe solution. Visit the manicure parlor once every two weeks for a time, until the nails begin to improve, after which manicure them yourself. Dip the finger tips in warm olive oil and rub, nightly. Wear canvas gloves when sweeping, dusting, etc. Use a good white soap or milk in the dishwater. Milk tends to soften the hands and nails. Oatmeal water will also improve the hands and nails.

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From the Relief Society Magazine, March 1955 –

The Legacy

By Ora Pate Stewart

I would probably never have known about the old, round-topped sea chest in the attic of Grandmother’s house, if it hadn’t been that a big chain store company needed that particular corner for a supermarket. Grandmother had been gone for many years. She never would have stood for selling it, nor did Aunt Elon want to move. She was living alone in the big house at the time. She was a widow, and all her children were married and gone.

“My roots are here,” she persisted; and she wouldn’t budge until finally a lawyer came out and told her that the property was going to be condemned, and she’d do well to sell and get out while she had a good chance.

“Condemned, my foot!” Aunt Elon ejaculated. “They don’t build houses like this today. Adobe walls nearly two feet thick! My father made those adobe with his own two hands. Of course, we had it faced over with brick at the turn of the century for the golden wedding; and then two years ago I had it stuccoed. But I was born in this house, and I’d hoped to die in it!”

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Expatriation

By Hugh J. Cannon

Previous Chapter

Chapter 4

The tropical sun had scarcely arisen from its bed in the sea when Nell and her friend started for the cemetery where John Terry and his wife reposed. There was a burial place much nearer the town than this one, but it lacked the beauty and picturesqueness of the spot which, as Hawley remembered the story form his parents, had appealed to Mr. Terry and where he, anticipating an early death, had chosen his final resting place. Though the unceasing roar of the surf and the musical whispering of palm branches would fall on cold ears, he was sure his sleep would be sweeter if these familiar and loved sounds floated over his tomb.

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