may not enter; but at dawn and sunset God paints pictures that mock the efforts of all human art. Where can we find such transcendant loveliness as appears daily in the heavens?

Yet further the ministry of Nature is a ministry of rest and healing, for deep calm is enthroned in her heart.

Fiery Phoebus makes no clatter as his burning hoofs rush through the sky, and the Lady Moon glides through the night in silvery silence. The mountains are mostly peaceful, the stars shine serenely, and plants grow and buds burst in sweet tranquility.

These restful things of Nature lend us "their own deep quiet to restore our hearts," for there is something in their unruffled calm that overawes us, and we are ashamed that the insect stings of life have power to irritate us.

Again the ministry of Nature is a ministry of assimilation.

The wide spaces of this glorious earth, the seashore, the breezy common, the immeasurable dome of heaven, make us greater, and by that subtle power by which we become more or less assimilated to that in which we delight, shape us to their moods.

Thus according to Downes, there is something more than poetry in those lines of Russell Lowell in which he imagines that each thing he loves yields him some gift peculiar to itself.

So of the oak he asks steadfastness, from the granite he begs some portion of its "stern unyielding might"; he desires to receive "pensiveness serene" from the pine, modesty from the violet, and in watching the prattling stream he fain would share its "sparkling merriment." This assimilating power of Nature, Wordsworth undoubtedly felt when he drew the dainty picture of a little maiden, educated and made beautiful by this subtle shaping power.

"Three years she grew in sun and shower,

Then Nature said: 'A lovelier flower

On earth was never sown;

This child I to myself will take;

She shall be mine and I will make

Of her a lady of my own.

Myself will to my darling be

Both law and impulse, and with me

The girl in rock and plain,

In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,

Shall feel an overseeing power

To kindle and restrain.

She shall be sportive as the fawn,

That wild with glee across the lawn

Or up the mountain springs;

And hers shall be the breathing balm,

And hers the silence and the calm

Of mute, insensate things.

The floating clouds their state shall lend

To her; for her the willow bend,

Nor shall she fail to see

Even in the motion of the storm

Grace that shall mold the maiden's form

By silent sympathy.

The stars of midnight shall be dear

To her, and she shall lean her ear

In many a secret place

Where rivulets dance their wayward round

And beauty born of murmuring sound

Shall pass into her face.""

Thus when we turn from the harassing cares of life, does kindly Nature lend us some touches of her nameless grace and infuse some of her vigor into our tired pulses.

Among other interests we are impressed by the blessed equalities of Nature. She has a voice for all, and pours forth without stint or favor all her beauty.

We turn from the oppression of the world, from the selfishness of caste, from the pride of culture, and the exclusiveness of wealth, to find real joy in the fact that sunlight and rain fall as richly on the poor as on the wealthy; that Nature does not reserve the glory of the sunset for the cultivated classes, or the fragrance of the flowers for the moneyed folks.

One Nature lover says: "Nature truly belongs not to those who own her acres, but to those who love her. The farmer or the squire may claim the field, but the landscape is mine."

The daisy and the cowslip do not avoid the meadows where cottage children play and poor men walk, nor does the sought for violet scorn to bloom for the delight of the rugged woodman.

When the lark, far away in the clouds, bursts into song, her palpitating heart recks not whether peasant or peer is listening to her music.

But although my subject is not yet exhausted, time and the patience of an audience demand my cessation. These thoughts, however, are of some of the glorious visions which impress us as we move in

"Nature's Cathedral, boundless as our wonder,

Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply;
Its choir, the winds and waves; its organ, thunder;
Its dome, the sky.

Here amid the solitude and shade we wander

Thro' the green aisles, or stretched upon the sod
And awed by silence, reverently ponder

The ways of God."

Graceland Endowment.

In harmony with the action of the last General Conference, the trustees of the college have been pushing the endowment subscriptions in rather a modest way, until the number secured now is upwards of four hundred. Saints in various branches and districts were appointed to solicit subscriptions, and cards were sent them. Some of these have done well, and have sent in a liberal number of cards signed; and some have done a little; and some have done nothing at all. Strange as it may seem, some who were among the most enthusiastic at conference and expressed their sanguine belief that we would get double the amount asked for, have not been heard from since. This reminds one that there are many who love the latter day work, and are willing to do all they can-when they are in a prayer meeting. There is no reason for complaint, however, when the work,, as a whole, is considered. Many of the Saints have done well, and have shown their faith by their works, in this department as in others; and more will do so when they properly understand the needs.

New conditions have arisen since the last General Conference. The State Board of Educational Examiners have adopted a new standard for Iowa colleges to take effect January 1, 1912, which necessitates our having an annual income of ten thousand dollars exclusive of tuition. Our "College Day Collection" yields from twenty-five hundred to three thousand dollars, so that we would need seven hundred to seven hundred and fifty endowment subscriptions at ten dollars a year to give us the requisite income. In addition to this income we must have a laboratory valued at seventy-five hundred dollars, and a library of seventy-five hundred volumes, exclusive of public documents, and selected with a view to suiting the needs of collegiate work. We should have seven departments, or chairs, the head professor of each department having at least two years' graduate work, which means that we will have to pay more salary, or else secure more professors who are Latter Day Saints, willing to make a sacrifice similar to that made in other deparments of church work.

It may be readily seen from these facts that we need, not only this ten thousand income, but more, in order to put us in shape to meet the state requirements. Why should we not have a thousand of these subscriptions? Why should not every Sunday school and every Religio carry, at least one, some could carry more, which would give us means to provide the necessary improvements? It seems, when one thinks of it, that this would be a very natural thing to do. The college is for the young people, and is being built not alone for the present generation, but for generations to come, and if the children and young people in our Sunday schools and Religios acquire the habit of thinking about Graceland and working for its support, there will be no question about the choice they will make when the time comes for them to select a school where they will attend, and we will have an institution second to none.

There is no Sunday school or Religio society that could not carry

a subscription of ten dollars easily. The amount could be raised by one entertainment, or one festival or supper, per year, or even by personal contribution when public sentiment might be against the other methods of raising money. The writer is fully convinced that the whole college proposition could be financed by the Sunday schools and Religios alone were it necessary to do so.

The college authorities are alive to the fact that the first step to be taken toward meeting the state requirements is money, and arrangements have been made to put Prof. Roy V. Hopkins in the field, who is a genuine Saint, and who knows the college situation from beginning to end, outside and inside, having been one of the faculty and dean of the men. He is authorized and qualified to represent the college and its needs. He is a thorough Religio and Sunday school worker, and also a preacher, and will do the young people good wherever he is privileged to meet them. Ask him to tell of the spiritual work at Graceland. We bespeak for him a cordial reception wherever he may go among the church people, and a hearty response to his appeal.

Now, is there a genuine Saint who does not, want to see Graceland succeed? While it is a fact that our principal work is not to prepare students for the university or some other institution, but on the contrary to build character, to develop true manhood and womanhood, and fit them for usefulness in the world; yet, so far as this can be done and affiliate with the other institutions of learning, well and good. It would be a lowering of our ideal to bend everything to meeting the demands of the state standard if in doing so we should lose sight of our real mission. But we do not think there is danger of this being done. The time for an education comes once in the life of each individual, and that time should be improved to the best possible advantage spiritually and morally, as well as intellectually. Is it asking too much that there shall be found within the church the possibility for this to our sons and daughters? J. A. GUNSOLLEY, Acting President.

Opportunity.

What is opportunity? It is a fit or convenient occasion favorable for some purpose. It makes no difference what that purpose may be, if one neglects a favorable time to put it into effect it may never be obtained. It has been said that "it is fatal to miss opportunities, culpable to refuse them, and criminal to abuse them."

And when that favorable occasion comes around it is our privilege to take the advantage it offers. It may seem inconvenient, at the time, to start in on something else, though it does look prosperous, when one has already all he can manage. But still we can't go ahead and work out our ideas and plans without considering anything else, for if we do, we will be disappointed. In other words, we can not be independent. A man may have plenty of

money and not have to work to support himself, yet if there was no one to make and grow the necessities of life that he could not make and grow, he would probably be like the old king in Greek mythology, who after doing a good deed was told by one of the gods that he could have anything he wished. He immediately fell on his knees and prayed that everything he touched might become gold. The god told him the wish was granted. Eager to try his great gift, he pulled a twig from the branch of a tree which instantly turned to shining, yellow gold; when he sat down to his meal everything he touched turned to gold. The wine trickled from his mouth a fluid of gold, and the meat turned to golden bricks as he tried to eat. Now he went back to the god and asked that the gift, which proved so inconvenient as not to let him satisfy his natural appetite, be taken back. The god bade him wash in the river if he no longer wished to be in such conditions. So you see we can not be independent.

Even the farmer requires things that he has not the skill of making. All of us are dependent on the rest of us. Opportunities can be made. It is misrepresented that opportunity knocks but once in a lifetime at each man's door, and if not accepted passes on never to return. It does, however, if we want it. We can make it return by putting ourselves in its way. If it will not come from one way, we can get it from the other, but the last opportunity will

come.

On a wild coast of Britain, there are tall and craggy cliffs, which overhang the ocean. The people residing near make their livelihood by gathering the eggs of the rock birds. An iron is fixed in the cliff above; a rope is attached, and the adventurer lowers himself until he arrives at the ledge of the rock. Once a man found the rock to overhang so much that he was obliged to swing himself to and fro so as to gain his foothold on the rock. He succeeded, but in doing so lost the rope from his grasp. The rope swung to and fro, its vibrations becoming less and less and each time more and more distant. The man stood and quick as a thought reasoned thus with himself: "That rope is my only chance of life. In a little while, it will be for ever beyond my reach. It is nearer now than it will ever be again. I must lay hold of it or die!" So saying he sprang from the cliff as the rope was next approaching, caught it and as safe. The rope was that man's last opportunity. It is a duty to make use of these opportunities.

WILL GRAINGER. (Read at Second Kansas City Institute, November 13, 1910.)