meetings in the different settlements. When we had got fairly out of this little Ragtown and away from the probability of being interrupted, the captain called a camp and counseled with the company on the subject. S. The result of the council was that the three best animals could make Washare valley, where the President in charge of the mission lived, by the time needful-a distance of eighty-five miles, and it was then near noon. C. Dalton, Peter Cownover and I were picked to ride, all night again, which we did, and reached Genoa a little after sunrise and while the family were eating breakfast. As soon as we had eaten we changed animals and rode to Genoa in Carson valley, twenty-five miles, before meeting, and by that time I had all the ride I wanted for once, having ridden two hundred and twenty miles in fifty-eight riding hours. Robert Walker, now of the firm of Walker Bros., and Henry Brizzee were in the employ of William Nixon, merchant in Genoa. They were dispatched to San Francisco to purchase a quantity of ammunition and other goods to more fully carry out instructions from Salt Lake. In about a week Cownover and I went over the Sierra Nevada to a small mining town called Murphy's Diggins in order to co-operate with Walker and Brizzee in carrying out business held by them. We went by way of the "Big Trees" and had a good view of their wonderful size. I have never read too strong descriptions to meet my appreciation of the "Big Trees." Walker and Brizzee, after very intricate and careful management, succeeded in getting 1,000 pounds of powder, with caps and lead to match, mixed up with a little stock of winter goods and got them safely to Murphy's, where we had in waiting hired teams suitable for transporting them over the mountains. [TO BE CONTINUED.] FEATHERS, ETC. LULA. POOR little birdie! silent and dead! I shudder to look at the ostrich plume, And think of the huge bird's cruel doom; The heartless, barbarous plan, Devised, but for pitiless pride and pay, A glory and grandeur to steal away, God gave to the bird, not the man. Daughter of Zion! Repent and turn Which will make thee "as bad as the thief." Her splendor, so cold, so brief! To Zion's daughters, such pow'r and skill They may wear the most comely dress; Their garments plain, all the trimmings and bands, And beauty, the work of their own fair hands; Costing thousands of dollars less Than the feathers, embroidery, ribbons and lace, Brought now from abroad, their forms to grace. Kindly and wisely to scatter around, I have an ornament, bright and fair, A strip of cloth and same glue; And if feathers are liked most of anything, THE OAK AND THE IVY. M. E. TEASDALE. , AGREE with the writer who said that a man would progress faster if he had "able, intelligent assistance instead of so much clinging dependence from his wife." The oak and the ivy expression sounds very romantic, but put to the test in this practical world of ours, it proves a failure. It would be all very well if every ivy could be assured that the oak upon which it leans would stand the storms of winter and never be felled to the earth, but would stand firm and immovable as long as the ivy lives. But how often is the oak stricken down in its prime, leaving the ivy helpless and destitute of support! Every girl before she leaves her father's roof should be taught a trade or profession whereby she can sustain herself and those dependent upon her if adversity comes and she is left to fight the battle of life alone. Every girl should face this question squarely: What can I do to support myself if I should have to do so? dependent upon their husbands that they seem really to let them think for them and when you converse with them they never tell you what they think upon any subject, but they tell you what their husbands think about it. When misfortune comes to such women and their support is taken from them, they are almost crushed by the blow. When they are compelled by the force of circumstances to learn by have learned before to use the faculbitter experience what they ought to ties with which they were endowed and learn to think and reason for themselves, to be brave and womanly. It is an acknowledged fact that it is a great blessing for a man to go on a mission; it is the making of a young man, I say. I go a little farther and wife to be left alone while her husband say that it is as great a blessing to the goes on his mission as his mission is to him. The experience she gains is inand it is a school wherein she learns valuable; she has to plan and think, many practical lessons she never would learn with her husband constantly by her side. Her executive faculties are developed and she is surprised in finding thought herself incapable of performherself able to accomplish objects she ing. Her spiritual nature is also cultivated and developed; as she feels the lack of wisdom in herself she goes beseeches Him for wisdom and strength humbly to her Father in heaven and tains her and fills her with joy and and He gives them to her. He suscomfort. Woman should be a helpmate to her husband and have an interest and a voice in all matters pertaining to the welfare of the home and family; and when the husband asks her what is best to be done, she should have an opinion of her own and be able to tell in some useful branch of industry that I say to the girls, qualify yourselves why she thinks so, and not say, "Oh, I don't know, do what you think and if you are never required to make will enable you to be self-sustaining, best." Some women are so utterly | particular use of the knowledge, it will not hurt you. Do not imitate the ivy, but rather the oak, in being firm and steadfast, that you may be pillars of strength for weaker ones to lean upon, and qualify yourselves to be in deed and in truth, helpmates to your husbands, and not burdens for them to carry. KINDNESS TO MOTHER. RUBY LAMONT. LISTEN to mother, sister, Age with its snow hath kissed her, Once we were small and helpless, Holy, unselfish, true, Listen to mother, sister What though her words upbraid? Think of the heavy burdens We on her heart have laid! Sickness and toil and sorrow Ever for us she bore, Shall we today, tomorrow, Add to these o'er and o'er? Only the loving Savior Loves us as she hath done, True, she is only mortal, F Let the wee baby, sister, Listen to mother, sister, Brighten her path with flow'rs, LIGHTS AND SHADES. [CONTINUED FROM PAGE 159.] ☐ ANNY basted the chickens roasting in the oven, filled up the pudding boiler from the tea kettle, and then seated herself by Gwyn, and taking one of her hands affectionately in her own began the story Gwyn wanted to hear. "There is no credit due me," she said, "for my not having suffered in plurality, as many of my sisters have done. The Lord has blest me beyond degree, and we owe our success thus far in life entirely to Him." "Don't you think He would bless others as abundantly if they were all as humble and strove as earnestly to keep His Spirit with them?" Gwyn asked. us. "I cannot tell about that," Fanny replied, "I only know it has been with In the first place, the true nobility of my husband's character, his honesty, uprightness and purity in every way gave me such confidence in him that I knew he would not wrong me, no matter how many wives the Lord might give unto him, and he would take none that were not given of God. Both Andrew and myself felt that we should be condemned if we entered not into plurality of wives, for the Lord had condescended to reveal the principle unto us in its sublime purity; and you know the revelation plainly states that if the Lord reveals it to any, and they receive it not, they shall be condemned. I believe, Gwyn, that some of our people enter into that sacred order without due reflection or preparation and before the Lord has actually revealed it to them; and so they make failures of it." "The very thing I was just thinking myself," answered Gwyn. "It is preached to thousands who do not comprehend it; to some it may look reasonable, though they understand it not, and, as you say, they venture to try it, even before they seek to the Lord in fervent prayer to have the way made plain for them." "But we did not go into it in that way," continued Fanny. "We had all three of us been praying about it for years; and the Lord had softened and prepared our hearts, as He only is capable of doing. Ida's mother is one of the truest and best women I have ever known. She has taught her daughters, by example as well as precept, how to live in plurality as well as out of it. "When Ida came from the other valley' to spend a few weeks with friends here, we soon found out, the three of us, that we were well suited to each other; and we all three wrote to her parents, asking their consent for the Bishop to marry their daughter. Ida wished me to write to her mother and state my feelings regarding the matter. So I did. And as I felt real well and hopeful about it, I expressed myself in that way. The answer I re ceived to that letter did me so much good; I shall never forget it, I hope. One line in it reads, 'Dear Fanny, if you continue to cherish the kind, humble spirit in which you have written to me, I promise you, in the name of the Lord, that you shall never know sorrow because of entering into plurality, the holiest order of marriage.' When Ida went to visit her mother for the first time after her marriage I remember of telling her that she could say to her mother for me that I was holding to that beautiful, sweet promise she had made me; that so far it had been fully realized, and I should trust it for the future. But you wanted to hear about our mistakes, and I am telling you only of our successes. "A short time before her marriage, after it had been arranged about what date it should take place, Ida was going home to visit her folks, and was to return to us in due time for the wedding. " The summer weather was growing hot and somewhat unhealthy, and we decided after counseling about it that a change would do both myself and my nursing baby good, and that I might as well accompany Ida to the 'other valley.' "We were at the supper table the evening before we were to start. Two or three others were present who would make the journey with us, and a lively conversation was going on. I do not remember what all was said, nor who said it, but somehow the Bishop was led to make this strange remark, 'The rest of you can stay as long as you like, if you will send Ida back.' "I cannot tell you just how that sentence made me feel; I could scarcely believe it was my husband that spoke it, it was so unlike him. One thing I was certain of, he did not mean it in the way it sounded. No one else ventured a reply to it, so after a moment's thought I said jestingly, 'Perhaps Ida better not go, for fear she might not get back by the appointed time.' "Again Andrew spoke, this time in real earnest, 'Oh, yes!' he said, 'Ida must go and see her mother; I want her to do that, but she must come back according to agreement.' "The conversation then turned on other subjects, but that strange remark of my husband's still sounded in my ear, and gave every now and then a peculiar twinge to my heart. I could not understand it. After a while all hands were through with supper and through with work and off to bed and asleep except the Bishop and myself. He was away from home on business, I purposely sitting up to speak with him on his return and at the same time completir.g arrangements for my own and baby's journey and visit. "It was after ten o'clock when the Bishop came in. He began gently chiding me for not having retired, saying I was so much in need of rest and would have to be up so early in the morning. , ""Yes, I replied, 'I know it, but I wanted to speak with you before going away, and feared I should find no opportunity for so doing in the morning; besides, I did not feel like going to sleep until I could tell you of something you said at the supper table.' ""Something I said! Did I say anything wrong?' the Bishop asked in surprise. ""No,' said I, 'I do not think it was wrong, it only sounded strangely, and I do not understand it.' I then repeated to him the words I have mentioned. "He did not laugh at me as some men would have done, did not call me foolish and jealous, neither did he try evasively to smother over the thoughtless expression or its effects. He was true as ever, and prompt with a reasonable explanation, which perfectly satisfied me. "Taking me in his arms and calling me by some endearing title, he said, 'Oh, how shall I be careful and guarded enough to avoid any word or action that could trouble you! When I spoke those offending words I was thinking more than anything else of how much good a summer's rest would do you and the baby. Never for one moment has the thought entered my mind that the presence of any other woman could fill your place with me or make my life complete without you. Oh, no, my faithful wife! because I love Ida is no reason why I should forget the love you have given me, the good you have done me. Remember this, Fanny, that while you and I both avoid sin, nothing can separate us or cause the love we have given each other to grow cold.' "I knew that my husband told me the truth, and my soul was satisfied. That was the first mistake and its settlement. And that is the way we settle all our difficulties. If a word is dropped or anything done or left undone that creates the slightest disturbance with any of us, at the first favorable opportunity we take the matter under careful consideration, have it thoroughly examined and explained, and it always amounts to about the same thing, no harm is ever intended, no harm is ever done. This example is sufficient for you, Gwyn; I need not |