ters." He made the pledge, and he told me in the presence of my wife that they had discovered, when they opened me, that I was in the last stage of blood poisoning.

An Assurance and a Miracle

When he wert out of the rcom, did I serd for my clerk? No, I did not. Why? Because, after I had made that bargain with the doctor, my wife, whose body now lies in the tomb, visited my home, and promised my wife who lives, that I should not die, ro matter how sick I was. So when the doctor said I had to die, I had absolute and perfect faith (ard perfect faith casteth out all fear) that I should not die.

Why did I not die? Only a short time before I was operated upon, the ex-United States Marshal, Frank Dyer, was operated upon in the same. hospital, for the same trouble, appendicitis; his condition was not as bad as mine, but he died. Dr. Allen Fowler, the chief surgeon in the Catholic hospital, said to President Joseph F. Smith, who stood by me as I was being operated upon, "Mr. Smith, you do not need to discuss the possibility or probability of that man's recovery; he cannot live. Why, if he were to live, it would be a miracle, and this is not the day of miracles."

In the last conversation of a serious nature that I had with President Smith, except on the day before he died, he referred to this experience, and he said, "Heber, write out that statement of the doctor, as he made it to me, and let me sign my name to it." I said to his son David, after we came out, "David, you write that out, and let your father sign it." I felt a little delicacy as if I were preparing a document before his dea h, for I knew how sick he was, though I never gave up in my feelings

ad in my heart, until the day before he died, that Joseph F. Smith would ro live.

David did not get the statement, but the fact remains that Allen Fowler said those words to Joseph F. Smith, who was with me all night long, the night before I went to the hospital in the morning, ard during the operation, as was John Nicholson and others of my friends. When it was said that I had to die, Brother Nicholson, afterwards, told me that the testimony came into his heart, "He shall not die; he shall live."

The Law Must be Obeyed

When the visitation was made to my home with the promise that I should not die, I knew that it was from the Lord, for I remembered a promise made to me many years before the operation, by my wife, before she died, that I should live to pay all my financial obligations, and hat I should lift up my voice in many lands and in many climes, proclaiming the restitution to the earth. of the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ --the plan of life and salvation. I had never been upon a mission at the time that I was operated upon for appendicitis. Let me say right here, to all young Israel, that, notwithstanding the promises made to me by my wife, through the gift of tongues, that I should live to pay my debts, and to proclaim the gospel in many lands and in many climes, since "there is a law irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of the world, upon which every blessing is predicated," had I failed to fulfil the law, I would have failed to obtain the promised blessing; my heart would not have had the power to beat steadily for an hour and three quarters. That doctor said, "Mr. Grant, the great pumping machine in the great city of Chicago which

There are eyes and eyes. There are blue eyes, brown eyes, grey eyes, and green eyes. But as we look into them do we think only of their color or of their size? Do we not rather notice the sparkle in them, the joy, the sadness, the weariness, or the hopelessness, as the case may be? Instead of regarding the mere abstract color, we are almost unconsciously looking deeper, searching for a glimpse of the thing that is behind, vaguely endeavoring to learn the feelings, the thoughts, the character. We are eager to see the soul.

"The eyes are the windows of the soul." When people look into the windows of your soul they do not see your thoughts, they see only your feelings; they do not see your ambitions; they do not see what you would like to be; they do not see what you will be; they do not see what you have been; they see the sum total of all these: what you are.

This you is like a piece of modelling clay. It remains unchanged only as long as the sculptor's tools-your thoughts and experiences-allow it to remain so. The use of one tool, some experience, or thought, changes it so that it is never the same again. So, each day, people see a somewhat different behind you "winyour dows." But are you going to let experiences alter you, as if your soul were sand? Or are you going to govern the changes? Are you going to control your experiences so that each one adds a definite beauty, so that each means progression? That is one of the offices of thought;

to interpret your experiences so that they are character builders. Do your thoughts do that? Do your experiences broaden and beautify your scul so that the you that people see is worth while?

eyes

Do you cringe and shift your eyes timidly about in the attempt to meet the of others? If so, you canrot expect to be entirely trusted. You do not give an impression of stability. On the other hand, can you look your fellowmen squarely in the eye, fearlessly, proudly, with the invigorating knowledge that you are doing your best, that you are progressing? If so, then people feel that you are worth while. They are interested, ard friendship and good will are the result.

"Soul-windows" serve as your declaration of worth, as it were. They are reliable indicators which place you in the class to which you belong.

The value of your eyes to you is inestimable. They give you sight and knowledge. But they are only the mears to these. It is the mind which understands and utilizes the offerings of the sight, which obtains and makes use of the knowledge. This is all colored by your feelings, your attitudes, by relation to experience. If your feelings are fine and discriminating, your attitudes unprejudiced and defiLite, your experiences well utilized, then your knowledge and your un derstanding will be intensified and clarified, your "soul-windows" clear, unafraid, straightforward.

IX.-LIGHT AND SHADOW

As the days passed and Cosma remained interested in her workstrawberries had given place to raspberries, but she still supervised the patch and formed the habit of going to meetings at least once every Sunday, Lael's hope that she might regain the testimony Taylor had shattered, before she met him, grew in strength. She never mentioned Mr. Smith any more and because her face darkened instead of brightened when a question was asked about him, her mother wondered if they had quarreled.

One Sunday afternoon, the Bishop created a sensation in meeting by calling on Cosma's employer to preach. The young farmer had never been on a mission, and though he was faithful in performing religious duties, had never been upon his feet before an audience. They could see the deep tinge of red under his tan, as he walked to the stard, and his knees were shaking. But when he faced them ard caught the expectant smiles on the faces of some of the young men who krew him as a confirmed joker, a look of determination tinged with defiance settled on his countenance.

Without apology for being unpre pared, he addressed them and began soberly:

"When I was growing up," he continued, "I worked away from home and roomed with a fellow that was always reading queer things and preaching them to me. As soon as he finished a book he'd forget it for the next one. But I took things more serious. And when he started in on a book by Bob Ingersol that was written to prove there wasn't any God, it got under my skin. I couldn't leave it alone and so I read it all, and got to believing that there wasn't any God and religion was just bunk, you know." Again he took a drink. and the Bishop quietly refilled the glass as he set it down.

Cosma's eyes were wide, and she was leaning forward, listening intently.

"So then I stopped praying and thought I might as well have a good time while I was alive because when I was dead, I'd be dead for a long time. I took to going out with the girls pretty often. After a while I settled down to going with Cora s'eady and pretty soon I up an' got courage to pop the question. When she said she wanted to go to the Temple, I told her what I thought about it all. Well, we had a lot of talks, and I knew she was praying for me. It seemed like everything in the world was upset and unfair and wrong, and I was pretty miserable when I was alone, but sometimes I'd remember that she was praying for me, and it helped, for all I didn't thirk so. Well, at last she persuaded me that it wouldn't hurt for me to pray to know if there was a God, because if there wasn't I'd not be any worse off, and if there was one, maybe I'd feel better

to find it out. So I made myself get down on my knees and ask. I didn't have any vision or nothing like that, but all in a minute it seemed like something picked me up and lifted me out of a black blistery hell-hole where everything was backward into a place where things were quiet and peaceful and right. Nothing else happened, but I knew there was a God when I got up from my knees, and I knew He was the kind of God Joseph Smith said He wasthe kind that takes a personal interest in everybody and fixes things to help them find Him if they'll give Him a ghost of a chance.

That is

all He wants just a chance to keep in touch with us. And I made up my mind that I'd keep honest with my neighbors and do the things I knew was right and get down and tell Him when I needed help-that I'd just keep on giving Him a chance to keep me happy and satisfied like I was then. I don't know very much about the Gospel, but I know that if I do that, I'll keep on learning, and I hope I won't ever forget. And I hope the same for you."

The rest of the meeting was a blank to Cosma. The speaker's words about giving God a chance to keep in touch with us were ringing over and over in her mind. It seemed to her that under the surface of things one part of her subconsciousness was battling with another part. The lessons of her girlhood, the bitterness of the past year, the faith and the doubts; these were struggling for supremacy over each other, and Lael, praying silently for her friend, and afraid to say anything, could see the varying triumphs and failures of the two powers in the changing expressiors that flitted over the face of her friend. Cosma said nothing until she bade Lael good night.

Then she stood a long time hold

ing Lael's hands and looking in her eyes, as though she sought from her the final spark of courage she needed. At last she said softly, "Lael, do you remember what Brother Jones said?"

"Yes." It was the first time Cosma had called anyone Brother, that sum

mer.

"I-I'm going to give God a chance. If there is a God-I need Him."

As Lael stood at her window and looked out at the grand mountain whose silent influence had helped her so often, she knew that in the room next to her the girl she had tried so hard to help was groping from the depths of spiritual darkness for the switch of prayer that would turn on the light of faith. She knew that somewhere in the same valley a young man was crying out in sorrow that he might find the girl whose light he had quenched and atone with a life's devotion for a moment's mistake. And she knew, too, that though with all her heart she prayed that both might have their desires, the granting of her prayer for them would leave a long unhealed hurt in her own life.

It was long before Lael slept, and with the sun streaming in at her east window, she woke to the strains of "Lead, Kindly Light." It was Cosma's method of announcing that her bitterress had turned to peace.

Re

The week that followed was the pleasantest one of the summer. ligion, so long tabooed from the conversation, was discussed joyously between the three, and music and smiles marked every hour. Lael's enthusiastic interest in the big hike to come at the end of the week was contagious. By the assistance of her brother-in-law and two or three of the

er-in-law and two

girls whom she had induced to climb the year before, others from the