(In our last number we produced an excellent poem from Joaquin Miller-- God's Pity.  In the current number we fortunately have a companion poem from the gifted mind of Ella Wheeler Wilcox, which we are pleased to publish following an expression from the author eulogizing the early Mormon family life.--Ed.)

    ELLA WHEELER WILCOX, the distinguished poetess and writer, refers to the "Mormons" in the columns of the New York Journal as follows:

    "I have looked into the eyes and the hearts of women who were and are plural wives, and I have arrived at positive
convictions regarding all of these interesting people--for interesting they most certainly are, and cultured and refined.
* * * "The men and women borne of polygamous mothers, in the upper classes of Salt Lake City, are superior in physique and in mental endowments to the same members selected at random in other cities I have seen.  A little investigation will prove the truth of my statement.

    "I believe this to be explained by the great desire of the men to propagate healthy children and the consequent care given
to the expectant mothers, and by the willingness of the women to accept the cares of maternity.  * * *  Wherever children are
wanted and welcomed, wherever men and women regard the office of parentage as sacred and desirable from any cause, the offspring will excel physically and mentally.  * * *

    "Before we cast any more stones at their (these polygamists' children's) ancestors, let us weed from the ranks of our own
churches and our own fashionable society, all the unwelcome and fatherless children, all the deserted, betrayed girls, and stand them in a row, and practice upon them as targets, in order that we may have a surer aim when we stone the polygamists again."--Fruits of Mormonism, p. 1.

    A Negro woman was relating her experience to a congregation of color, and among other things she said she had been in
Heaven.  One of the ladies asked her, "Sister, did you see any black folks in Heaven?"

    "Oh, get 'out!  S'pose I go in de kitchen when I war dar?"

    "If you would not have affliction visit you twice, listen at once to what it teaches."

    He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city.  --Solomon.

    Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow; He that would search for pearls must dive below.  --John Dryden.
 

[23]                  THE REVEALING ANGELS
                     By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Suddenly and without warning they came--
The revealing Angels came.
Suddenly and simultaneously, through city streets,
Through quiet lanes and country roads they walked,
They walked crying:  "God has sent us to find
The vilest sinners on earth.
We are to bring them before Him, before the Lord of Life."

Their voices were like bugles;
And then all war, all strife,
And all the noises of the world grew still:
And no one talked; And no one toiled, but many strove to flee
away.
Robbers and thieves, and those sunk in drunkenness and crime,
Men and women of evil repute,
And mothers with fatherless children in their arms,
All strove to hide.

But the Revealing Angels passed them by,
Saying:  "Not you, not you,
Another day, when we shall come again
Unto the haunts of men,
Then we will call your names:
But God has asked us first to bring to Him
Those guilty of greater shames,
Than lust, or theft, or drunkenness, or vice--
Yea greater than murder done in passion,
Or self destruction done in dark despair.
Now in His Holy Name we call:
Come one and all;
Come forth; reveal your faces."

Then through the awful silence of the world.
Where noise had ceased, they came,
The sinful hosts.
They came from lowly and from lofty places;
Some poorly clad, but many clothed like queens;
They came from scenes of revel and from toil,
From haunts of sin, from palaces, from homes,
From boudoirs, and from churches.
They came likes ghosts--
The vast brigades of women who had slain
Their helpless, unborn children.  With them trailed
Lovers and husbands who had said, "Do this,"--
And those who helped for hire.
They stood before the Angels,
Before the Revealing Angels they stood.
And they heard the Angels say--
And all the listening world heard the Angels say:
"These are the vilest sinners of all;
For the Lord of life made sex that birth might come;
Made sex in its keen, compelling desire
To fashion bodies wherein souls might go,
From lower planes to higher.
Until the end is reached (which is beginning.)

They have stolen the costly pleasures of the senses
And refused to pay God's price.
They have come together, these men and these women,
As male and female they have come together
In the great creative act.
They have invited souls, and then flung them out into space:
They have made a jest of God's design.
All other sins look white beside this sinning;
All other sins may be condoned, forgiven
All other sinners may be cleansed and shriven;
Not these, not these.
Pass on, and meet God's eyes."
The vast brigade moved forward, and behind them
Walked the Angels,
Walked the sorrowful Revealing Angels.

SOME ADDITIONAL WORDS OF COMMENDATION
A Non-Mormon Friend in California Writes:
    I was pleased to receive copy of TRUTH which you sent me, and after its careful perusal I am confident that your vocation is well chosen, and will prove a lasting monument that time cannot efface.  I am especially impressed with the comment of Ella Wheeler Wilcox relating to superior children in Utah which fully substantiates my conclusion of years ago and of which I have referred to many times in the interval.

WOMAN'S OPPORTUNITY
                      Ella Wheeler Wilcox

    The greatest opportunity to better the world which can come to any woman is through the experience of maternity.

    The power of prenatal influence which a mother possesses is awe inspiring to realize.

    It has been said upon excellent authority that Napoleon's mother read Roman history with absorbing interest during the
months preceding his birth.

    Think of the nations and the centuries influenced by that one woman's mental [143] concentration!  The geography of the
world was changed by her power of focused thought.

    In all probability Napoleon's mother did not know what she was doing; she was not conscious of the destiny her mind was
shaping for her unborn child, nor of the law governing such conditions.

    Women have been strangely ignorant of this vital truth; until recent years it has not been considered a "proper" theme
for tongue or pen, and today the great majority of young women marry absolutely uninformed upon the subject of prenatal
influence.

    Men are equally oblivious of any knowledge regarding the matter and consequently make no special effort to keep the
expectant mother of their offspring happy, hopeful, or free of anxiety and worry during this period.  Often they do not strive
to aid them in their own attempts to bestow a desirable temperament upon the unborn child, but heedlessly and needlessly
aggravate or grieve the mind which is stamping its impress upon an unborn soul.  * * *

    There is the old law of the continual falling of the drop of water upon the stone to be verified in the spiritual plane.
Continual assertions of a mother that her child will be all that she desires it to be, will wear away the stone of inherited
tendencies, and bring into physical being a malleable nature wholly amenable to the after influences and efforts she may
bring to bear upon it.

    It is a tremendous responsibility which rests upon the woman who knows she is to be a mother of a human being.

    A hundred ancestors may have contributed certain qualities to that invisible and formless atom which contains an immortal soul, yet the mother's mind has the power to remake and rebuild all those characteristics, and to place over them her own dominating impulse, whether for good or ill.

    Surely, if success in the arts or the sciences is worthy of years of devoted attention and interested effort, the molding of
a noble human being is worth eight or nine months of concentrated thought and unflagging zeal of purpose.

    Every expectant mother should set herself about the important business God has entrusted her with, unafraid, and
confident of her divine mission.  She should direct her mind into wholesome and optimistic channels; she should read
inspiring books and think loving and large thoughts.  She should pray and aspire! and always should she carry in her mind the ideal of the child she would mother, and command from the great Source of all Opulence the qualities she would desire to perpetuate.

    And they will be given.

   Observe the words of the gifted journalist, Ella Wheeler Wilcox.  "The men and women born of polygamous mothers, in the upper classes of Salt Lake City, are superior in physique and in mental endowments to the same members selected at random inother cities I have seen.  A little investigation will prove the truth of my statement."  This law practiced in accord with the word of the Lord, as given to their Prophet Joseph Smith, is conducive to moral clea nliness, because the union of the sexes is only indulged in for the purpose of procreation and is regarded as sinful if not controlled during the time of
pregnancy of the expectant mother.  Abuse of the organs of regeneration is always destructive whether in monogamy or
polygamy and the restrictions placed upon this people are greater than monogamy has ever known.

THE POET'S THEME

     ("What is the cause of the strange silence of American poets concerning America's triumphs on sea and land?"
     --Literary Digest.)

Why should the poet of these pregnant times
Be asked to sing of war's unholy crimes?

To laud and eulogize the trade which thrives
On holy holocausts of human lives?

Man was a fighting beast when earth was young
And war the only theme when Homer sung.

Twixt might and might the equal contest lay
Not so the battles of our modern day.

Too often now the conquering hero struts,
A Gulliver among the liliputs.

Of old, men fought and deemed it right and just;
Today the warrior fights because he must.

And in his secret soul feels shame because
He desecrates the higher manhood's laws.

Oh, there are worthier themes for poet's pen
In this great hour than bloody deeds of men.

Or, triumphs of one hero (though he be
Deserving song for his humility.)

The rights of many--not the worth of one--
The coming issues, not the battle done;

The awful opulence and awful need,
The rise of brotherhood--the fall of greed;

The soul of man replete with God's own force,
The call "to heights" and not the cry "to horse!"

Are there not better themes in this great age
For pen of poet or for voice of sage,

Than those old tales of killing?  Song is dumb
Only that greater song in time may come.

When comes the bard, he whom the world waits for,
He will not sing of war.  --Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

LORD, SPEAK AGAIN
                     By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

When God had formed the universe he thought
Of all the marvels therein to be wrought.
And to his aid fair motherhood was brought.

"My lesser self, the feminine of me,
She will go forth throughout all time", quoth he,
"And make my world what I would have it be.

"For I am weary, having labored so,
And for a cycle of repose would go
Into that silence which but God may know.

"Therefore I leave the rounding of my plan
To motherhood:  and that which I began
Let woman finish, in perfecting man.

"She is the soil, the human mother-earth:
She is the sun that calls the seed to birth:
She is the gardener, who knows its worth.

"From me all seed, of any kind, must spring.
Divine the growth such seed and soil will bring,
For all is me, and I am everything."

Thus having spoken to himself aloud,
His glorious face upon his breast he bowed
And sought repose behind a wall of cloud.

Come forth, O God!  Though great thy thought and good
In shaping woman for true motherhood.
Lord, speak again; she has not understood.

The centuries pass, the cycles roll along,
The earth is peopled with a mighty throng;
Yet men are fighting, and the world goes wrong.

Lord, speak again, ere yet it be too late.
Unloved, unwanted, souls come through earth's gate.
The unborn child is given a dower of hate--

Thy world progresses in all ways save one.
In motherhood, for which it was begun,
Lord, Lord, behold how little has been done.

Children are spawned like fishes in the sand.
With ignorance and crime they fill the land.
Lord, speak again, till mothers understand.

It is not all of motherhood to know
Creation's pleasure, and deliverance's woe.
Who plants the seed should help the shoot to grow.

And motherhood is not alone to breed
The human race; it is to know, and heed,
Its holiest purpose and its highest need.

Lord, speak again, so woman shall be stirred
With the full meaning of that mighty word,
True motherhood.  She has not rightly heard.

A REVERY IN THE STATION-HOUSE
                     By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Last night I walked along the city street
And smiled at men:  they saw the ancient sin
In my young eyes, and one said, "Come with me."
I went with him, believing my poor purse
Would fatten with his gold.  He brought me here
And turned the key upon me.  In an hour,
I shall be called before the judge and fined,
Because I have solicited.  How strange
And inexplicable a thing is law--
How curious its whys, and why-nots!  I
Was young and innocent of evil thought
A few brief years ago.  My brother's friend,
A social favorite to whom all doors
Were open (and a church communicant),
Sought me, soliciting my faith and trust,
And brushed the dew of virtue from my lips;
Then left me to my solitary thoughts.
Death and misfortune entered on the scene;
I was thrown out to battle with the world.
And hide the anguish of a maid deflowered.

I left my first employer because
He, too, solicited those favors that
No contract mentions, but which seem to be
Expected duties by unwritten law
In many business-houses.  Soon I learned
That virtue is, indeed, its own reward.
And often finds no other.  My poor wage
For honest labor and a decent life
Scarce kept me fed and sheltered.  Everywhere
In office, boarding-house, and in church aisles
I met the eyes of men soliciting.
They supplemented pleading looks by words,
And laughed at all my scruples.  Finally,
The one compelling lover had his way,
And when he wearied of me I began
The dreary treadmill of the city streets,
Soliciting whoever crossed my path
To take my favors and give me gold.

Somehow, I cannot seem to understand
Why there is law to punish me for that,
And none to punish any of the men
Who have pursued me with soliciting
Right from the threshold of my childhood's home
To this grim station-house.

My case is called? Well, lead the way, and I will follow you.

THE BIRTH OF JEALOUSY
      (From the Poems of Progress, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox)

With brooding mein and sultry eyes,
Outside the gates of Paradise,
Eve sat and fed the faggot flame
That lit the path whence Adam came;
(Strange are the workings of a woman's mind.)

His giant shade preceded him,
Along the pathway green and dim;
She heard his swift approaching tread,
But still she sat with drooping head.
(Dark are the jungles of unhappy thought.)
 He kissed her mouth, and gazed within
Her troubled eyes, for since their sin,
His love had grown a thousand fold.
But Eve drew back; her face was cold.
(Oh, who can read the cipher of a soul.)

"Now art thou mourning still, sweet wife?"
Spoke Adam tenderly, "the life
Of our last Eden?  Why, in thee
All Paradise remains for me."
(Deep, deep the currents of a strong man's heart.)

Thus Eve:  "Nay not lost Eden's bliss
I mourn; for heavier woes than this
Wear on me with one thought accursed:
In Adam's life I am not first.
(Oh, woman's mind, what hells are fashioned there.)

"The serpent whispered Lilith's name;
(`Twas thus he drove me to my shame.)
Pluck yonder fruit, he said, and know
How Adam loved her, long ago.
(Fools, fools, who wander searching after pain.)

"I ate:  and like an ancient scroll
I saw that other life unroll;
I saw thee, Adam, far from here
With Lilith on a wondrous sphere.
(Bold, bold, the daring of a jealous heart.)

"Nay, tell me not I dreamed it all;
Last night in sleep thou dids't let fall
Her name in tenderness; I bowed
My stricken head and cried aloud.
(Vast, vast the torment of a self-made woe.)

"And then it was and not before
That Eden shut, and barred the door;
Alone in God's great world I seemed,
Whilst thou of thy lost Eden dreamed.
(Oh, who can measure such wide loneliness.)

"Now every little breeze that sings,
Sighs Lilith, like thy whisperings.
Oh, where can sorrow hide its face,
When Lilith, Lilith, fills all space?"
(And Adam in the darkness spake no word.)

THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY
                     By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Man has explored all countries and all lands,
And made his own the secrets of each clime.
Now, ere the world has fully reached its prime,
The oval earth lies compassed with steel bands!
The seas are slaves to ships that touch all strands,
And even the haughty elements sublime
And bold, yield him their secrets for all time,
And speed like lackeys forth at his commands.

Still, tho he search from shore to distant shore,
And no strange realms, no unlocated plains
Are left for his attainment and control,
Yet is there one more kingdom to explore.
Go, know thyself, O man! there yet remains
The undiscovered country of thy soul!
 

                      NOT MINE, BUT THINK

All those who journey soon or late
Must pass within the garden's gate;
Must kneel alone in darkness there,
And battle with some fierce despair.
God pity those who cannot say:
"Not mine, but Thine"; who only pray
"Let this cup pass", and cannot see
The purpose in Gethsemane.  --Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

The world has a thousand creeds, and never a one have I;
Nor church of my own, tho a million spires are pointing the way on high.
But I float on the bosom of Faith, that bears me along like a river;
And the lamp of my soul is alight with love, for life, and the world, and the Giver.
--Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

Mind is the master of the sphere;
Be calm, be steadfast, and sincere;
Fear is the only thing to fear.  --Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

Unto each mortal who comes to earth
A ladder is given by God, at birth,
And up this ladder the soul must go,
Step by step, from the valley below;
Step by step, to the center of space,
On this ladder of lives, to the starting place.
In time departed (which yet endures)
I shaped my ladder, and you shaped yours.
Whatever they are--they are what we made;
A ladder of light, or a ladder of shade,
A ladder of love, or a hateful thing.
A ladder of strength, or a wavering string;
A ladder of gold, or a ladder of straw,
Each is the ladder of righteous law.
We flung them away at the call of death,
We took them again with the next life breath,
For a keeper stands by the great birth gates;
As each soul passes, its ladder waits.
Tho mine be narrow, and yours he broad,
On my ladder alone can I climb to God.
On your ladder alone can your feet ascend,
For none may borrow, and none may lend.
If toil and trouble and pain are found,
Twisted and corded, to form each round,
If rusted iron or mouldering wood
Is the fragile frame, you must make it good.
You must build it over and fashion it strong,
Tho the task be hard as your life is long;
For up this ladder the pathway leads
To earthly pleasures and spirit needs;
And all that may come in another way
Shall be but illusion, and will not stay.
In useless effort, then waste no time;
Rebuild your ladder, and climb and climb.

WHATEVER IS--IS BEST

I know as my life grows older
And mine eyes have clearer sight--
That under each rank wrong, somewhere
There lies the root of Right!
That each sorrow has its purpose,
By the sorrowing oft unguessed;
But, as sure as the sun brings morning,
Whatever is--is best.

I know, that each sinful action,
As sure as the night brings shade,
Is somewhere, sometime punished,
Though the hour be long delayed.
I know that the soul is aided
Sometimes by the heart's unrest,
And to grow means often to suffer--
But whatever is--is best.

I know there are no errors
In the great Eternal plan,
And that all things work together
For the final good of man.
And I know when my soul speeds onward.
In its grand eternal quest,
I shall say, as I look earthward,
Whatever is--is best.  --Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

Don't look for the flaws as you go through life;
        And even when you find them,
It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind
        And look for the virtue behind them.
For the cloudiest night has a hint of light
        Somewhere in the shadows hiding;
It is better by far to hunt for a star,
        Than the spots on the sun abiding.

The current of life runs ever away
        To the bosom of God's great ocean;
Don't set your force against the river's course
        And think to alter its motion.
Don't waste a curse on the universe--
        Remember it lived before you.
Don't butt at the storm with your puny form--
        But bend and let it go o'er you.

The world will never adjust itself
        To suit your whims to the letter.
Some things will go wrong your whole life long,
        And the sooner you know it the better.
It is folly to fight with the Infinite,
        And go under at last in the wrestle.
The wise man shapes into God's plan
        As the water shapes into a vessel.  --Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

Mrs. Ella Wheeler Wilcox, the distinguished poetess andwriter, referring to the "Mormons" in the columns of the New
York Journal, as follows:

     I have looked into the eyes and the hearts of women who
     were and are plural wives, and I have arrived at positive
     convictions regarding all of these interesting people--for
     interesting they most certainly are, and cultured and
     refined.  * * *

     It is always my habit, when in any country or community
     different from my own, to look for things to praise and
     emulate.

     In Salt Lake City I did not need to look in vain.  The men
     and women born of polygamous mothers, in the upper classes
     of Salt Lake City, are superior in physique and in mental
     endowments to the same members selected at random in other
     cities I have seen.  A little investigation will prove the
     truth of my statement.

     I believe this to be explained by the great desire of the
     men to propagate healthy children and the consequent care
     given to the expectant mothers, and by the willingness of
     the women to accept the cares of maternity.  * * *
     Wherever children are wanted and welcomed, wherever men and
     women regard the office of parentage as sacred and
     desirable from any cause, the offspring will excel
     physically and mentally.  * * *

     They are essentially a peaceful and industrious people.
     Their sufferings have been manifold, their industrial
     achievements in the desert of the west marvelous.  Their
     young men and young women lead beautiful and wholesome
     lives. Before we cast any more stones at their ancestors,
     let us weed from the ranks of our own churches and our own
     fashionable society all the unwelcome and fatherless
     children, all the deserted, betrayed girls, and stand them
     in a row, and practice upon them as targets, in order that
     we may have a surer aim when we stone the polygamists
     again.

SECRET THOUGHTS
                     (Ella Wheeler Wilcox)

I hold it true that thoughts are things
Endowed with bodies, breath, and wings,
And that we send them forth to fill
The world with good results--or ill.

That which we call our secret thought
Speeds to the Earth's remotest spot,
And leaves its blessing or its woes
Like tracks behind it as it goes.

It is God's law.  Remember it
In your still chamber as you sit
With thoughts you would not dare have known,
And yet make comrades when alone.

These thoughts have life; and they will fly,
And leave their impress by and by,
Like some marsh breeze, whose poisoned breath
Breathes into homes its fevered death.

And after you have quite forgot
Or all outgrown some vanished thought,
Back to your mind to make its home,
A dove or raven, it will come.

Then let your secret thoughts be fair;
They have a vital part, and share
In shaping world's and molding fate--
God's system is so intricate.

I said I would have my fling,
        And do what a young man may;
I didn't believe in a thing
        That the preachers had to say.
And I didn't believe in a God,
        That gave us blood and fire,
Then flings us into hell
        Because we follow the call of desire.

And I said, Religion is rot--
        And the laws of the world are nil;
And the bad man is he who is caught,
        And cannot foot the bill.
And there is no such place called hell,
        And heaven is only a truth,
Where a man had his way with a maid,
        In the fresh keen hours of youth.

And money can buy us grace
        If it rings on the plate of the church;
And money can quickly erase
        Each sign of a sinful smirch;
For I saw men everywhere
        Hot-footing the road to vice;
And women and preachers smiled on them
        So long as they paid the price.

So I had my joy in life
        And I went the pace of the town,
And then I took me a wife
        And started to settle down.
And I had gold enough to spare
        For all of the simple joys
That go with a house and home
        And a brood of girls and boys.

I married a girl with health,
        And virtue, and spotless fame,
I gave her in exchange my wealth,
        And a proud old family name.
And I gave her the love of a heart
        Grown sad and sick of sin,
My deal with the devil was up,
        And the last bill handed in.
She was going to give me a child,
        And when in anguish she cried
With love and fear I was wild,
        But now I wish she had died;
For the son she bore was blind,
        And crippled, and weak and sore,
And the mother was left a wreck--
        Aye it was so, she had settled the score.

I said I would have my fling,
        And they knew the paths I would go,
But no one told me a thing,
        Of what I needed to know.
Folks talk too much of the soul,
        From heavenly joys debarred;
But not enough of the babes unborn;
        By the sins of their fathers scarred.

From Ella Wheeler Wilcox, the distinguished poetess and writer, in the New York Journal:

     I have looked into the eyes and hearts of women who were
     and are plural wives [18] (referring to Mormon women), and
     I have arrived at positive convictions regarding all of
     these interesting people--for interesting they most
     certainly are, and cultured and refined.  * * *

     It is always my habit, when in any country or community
     different from my own, to look for things to praise and
     emulate.

     In Salt Lake City I did not need to look in vain.  The men
     and women born of polygamous mothers, in the upper classes
     of Salt Lake City, are superior in physique and in mental
     endowments to the same members selected at random in other
     cities I have seen.  A little investigation will prove the
     truth of my statement.

     I believe this to be explained by the great desire of the
     men to propagate healthy children and the consequent care
     given to expectant mothers, and by the willingness of the
     women to accept the cares of maternity.  * * *  Wherever
     children are wanted and welcomed, wherever men and women
     regard the office of parentage as sacred and desirable from
     any cause, the offspring will excel physically and
     mentally.  * * *

     Before we cast any more stones at their ancestors, let us
     weed from the ranks of our own churches and our own
     fashionable society all the unwelcome and fatherless
     children, all the deserted, betrayed girls, and stand them
     in a row, and practice upon them as targets, in order that
     we may have a surer aim when we stone the polygamists
     again.  --Fruits of Mormonism, p. 1.

REAL WORTH

It is well enough to be virtuous,
        When nothing tempts you to stray,
                When no voice of sin
                From without or within
        Is luring your soul away.

But it is only a negative virtue
        Until it has been tried by fire,
                And the soul that is worth
                The honor of earth,
        Is the soul that resists desire.  --Ella Wheeler Wilcox.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox on 2:96
Wilcox on 5:173
Loyal Hearts (Wilcox) 7:192
WILCOX, Ella Wheeler:
        As You Go Through Life 5:120
        Being Kind 12:310
        Best Will Come Back to You, The 7:192
        Birth of Jealousy, The 3:194
        Creeds 8:167
        Friend to Saints 6:17
        Heredity 13:248
        Justice, Not Charity 10:196
        Ladder, The 5:48
        Life's Scars 10:112
        Lord, Speak Again 3:30
        Loyal Hearts 7:192
        Mind, The Master of the Sphere 4:77
        Not Mine, But Thine 4:19
        Plural Marriage 5:173
        Poet's Theme, The 2:72
        Price He Paid, The 5:285
        Real Worth 6:82
        Religion 4:37
        Revealing Angels, The 1:23; 14:223
        Revery, In the Station-House 3:104
        Saying 9:234
        Secret Thoughts 5:215
        Solitude 7:168; 8:239
        This, Too, Shall Pass Away 18:356
        Uncontrolled 7:216
        Undiscovered Country, The 4:19
        Whatever Is, Is Best 5:72
        Woman's Opportunity 1:142
        Women and War 6:274
        Words 15:28
        World Has a Thousand Creeds, The 21:63
        Worthwhile 9:36