Keepapitchinin, the Mormon History blog

Venus in Tahiti: 1 May – 30 May 1919

By: Ardis E. Parshall - June 01, 2014

(Previous installment)

Thurs. May 1, 1919

Gave music lessons all day long excepting for the time it took me to prepare the meals.

Fri. May 2, 1919

Busy all day with lessons. Martha and the Stuart girls came over in the evening to learn some of our hymns in the French language.

Sat. May 3, 1919

Cleaned house etc. Tuhua called.


Saturday Remix, 1929

By: Ardis E. Parshall - May 31, 2014

True to Form

Helen: “So Peggy’s new boy’s a Scotchman. How does he treat her?”

Mabel: “Very reluctantly, I believe.”


Two Maids and a Man

By: Ardis E. Parshall - May 30, 2014

From the Young Woman’s Journal, 1903 –

Two Maids and a Man

By Kate Thomas

Sue glanced at me scornfully.

“Really,” she said, “you are the most stupid man I know.”


Financial Planning, 1931

By: Ardis E. Parshall - May 30, 2014

From the Children’s Friend, May 1931 —



We Love Our Work

By: Ardis E. Parshall - May 29, 2014

We Love Our Work

Song for Relief Society Choirs.

Sung to the tune of “I know that my Redeemer lives,” or,
“Praise ye the Lord, ‘tis good to raise.”

By M.E. Abel

We love our work, we want to live
That Father’s blessings we’ll receive.
Help us to cleanse our hearts from sin,
That Thy pure love may dwell therein.

O, Father, grant us strength and power;
Our mission needs Thee every hour.
Help us in what we want to do,
That to our trust we may prove true.

We want to live our love to show
To father’s children here below.
We want to comfort in distress,
We want to give all happiness.

We want to leave no stone unturned;
We want our lesson here well learned;
We want to point to Heaven’s goal,
To help in saving every soul.

We want to show our bishops all,
We’re minute women at their call;
We want no more to speak unkind,
But good in others quickly find.

We want our lives at home, abroad,
To show that we are Saints of God,
That our good works may ever bring
Glory and praise to Christ our King.


Reading During Those Long “Blackout Hours”

By: Mark B. - May 29, 2014

Following up on the recent — well, 1942 — “Small Consignment of Books Received from Zion” is this similarly war-themed advertisement. From 10 October 1940, right in the middle of the blitz, we give you —



Grace of Deity – Sacraments of the Church – Individual Merit

By: Ardis E. Parshall - May 29, 2014

Somewhere the idea arose in Internet Mormonism that we’ve never taught, thought, or perhaps even believed in grace, that works (often put in these discussions as “praxis” or “orthopraxis”) is pretty much all we rely on where salvation is concerned. One indication that Mormon discourse has, in fact, recognized grace and our utter reliance on it comes from this 1956 adult Sunday School lesson, written by Lowell Bennion.

Grace, and the sacraments (we’d ordinarily use the word “ordinances”), and keeping the commandments (i.e., works) are all recognized here as keys to salvation.



Forever or Never: Chapter 4

By: Ardis E. Parshall - May 28, 2014

Forever or Never

By True Banheardt Harmsen

Previous chapter

Chapter 4

The story so far: John Alder returns from a mission to Holland. Louise fails to meet him. The neighbors give him a warm welcome. He stops a deer hunting trip planned by his father and brother for Sunday. Quarrels with Louise, then learns that she had made it possible for him to finish his mission. Finds her in the arms of Biff Randolph at his welcome-home party at her house. John breaks with Louise, gets his ring back, and sours on the world. He is off on the wrong foot. After four months he goes to work on the Herald, morning newspaper, in the mailroom at seventy-five dollars per month. There is an extra one Sunday, and he is forced to miss church. The circulation manager tells him to adapt himself to conditions, make friends, to find himself, to look for good instead of bad in people. He makes an attempt, and is asked to join the pressroom and mailroom gangs that night in a pie feed. Despite their violent dislike of him, John succeeds in making friends with the newspaper bunch. He has a fight with Biff and gets whipped. Red Grogan, pressman and ex-fighter, teaches him to box, telling him what to eat, and what not to eat. Just like a word of wisdom sermon. John is finding himself. Is told that he has a good chance of being assistant circulation manager, but he must marry. He wants Louise, but Biff Randolph seems to have her cornered. Shorty goes for the habitual pie and ice cream. Comes back with: “Biff is forcin’ Louise to take a drink. She’s hollerin’ for Johnny!”


This Is Why I Love to Read Old Letters: German E. Ellsworth

By: Ardis E. Parshall - May 28, 2014

German E. Ellsworth (1871-1961) spent long stretches of his adult life as a missionary. First came a four-year-mission in California. He had barely returned home to California and taken up what he thought would be his life’s work as a teacher and principal, and had begun to raise a family with Mary Smith, when he was called to preside over the Northern States Mission, with headquarters in Chicago. Seventeen years later (17!) he was released from that calling having served from 1902 to 1919. He worked for the U.S. Treasury Department for a time, until he was called again as mission president, this time to the Northern California Mission, with headquarters in San Francisco; he served there for eight years (1941-1949) – one of the missionaries who knew him then was my aunt, the Sister Missionary of a past Keepa series. He was an innovative mission president, whose techniques will be the subject of a couple of future posts.

I’ve enjoyed getting to know him recently through some of his correspondence from the early years of the 20th century on file at the Church History Library. Here’s some of what I enjoy:


Temple Square at Dusk

By: Ardis E. Parshall - May 27, 2014

Temple Square at Dusk

By Georgia Moore Eberling

How quietly the gentle dusk walks here:
On mauve-shod feet with violets in her hair
She steps among the flowers, clad in sheer
Dove-gray, as pale as star dust and as fair.
The swirling yellow skirts of passing day
Have veiled the pansy faces, in the gloom
They drop their eyes and bow their heads to pray
Where dusk shadow waves a sable plume.
Dusk creeps into the folding arms of Night
As trees stand phantom-like, serene and tall.
The full round moon above is golden-bright,
And silence dwells inside the garden wall.
Here cradled in the city’s close embrace
A spot of heaven sleeps, in moonbeam’s lace.


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