Such is public sentiment in fashionable society in our cities, and yet
the highest type of the world's creation is a pure, sweet mother with
a babe in her arms, and another holding her apron strings. I think it
would be a blessing to home life if an avenging angel should go
through this country, smiting every English pug and poodle dog bought
to take the place of babies. In their places I would put bright-eyed,
rosy cheeked children to greet fathers when they return home from
their day's labor.

Battle for the right, remembering that far better is a fiery furnace
with an angel for company, than worshiping a brazen image on the
plains of Dura.

Some young man may now be saying in his mind, "For me to always stand
for the right would be to meet difficulties at every step of the way."
Don't get alarmed over difficulties. Half of them are imaginary.

I made my first trip to California thirty-five years ago. One morning
I stood on the eastern edge of the plains with a sleeping car berth at
my service and a through ticket to San Francisco in my pocket, while
the iron horse stood there all harnessed and ready for the journey.
Wasn't I in good condition for the trip? Yes, but I saw trouble before
me. One can always see trouble who looks for it. I had never been
across the plains and before the time for the train to start I walked
to the front of the engine and looking along the track as it reached
out across the prairie I saw trouble. What was it? Why, six miles
ahead the track wasn't wide enough. Yes, I saw it. Then on six miles
more the rails came together, with my destination nineteen hundred
miles away. Soon the train moved and as we neared the difficulty, the