We have the following telegram from Eugene K. Mangum, first counselor in the Phoenix West Stake: "At Phoenix, Arizona, 590 priesthood holders thrilled at messages over direct wire." Thousands can say the same.

I had in mind saying a word suggested by a visit to two fathers in this room—the two fathers of these two boys who have done so well tonight, and the pride in their sons which they had, the pride which every father has in his sons. My object in doing this was to make boys feel the responsibility of sonship.

Instead of referring to that, however, I am going to follow the thought mentioned by Brother Brown of keeping your manhood clean and unsullied. I do not know whether I can remember the lines or not, but I shall just refer to them and leave the reason of it to each of you.

I said I would have my fling,
And do what a young man may:
And I didn't believe a thing
That the parsons had to say.
I didn't believe in a God
That gives us blood like fire,
Then flings us into hell because
We answer the call of desire.

And I said "religion is rot,"
And the laws of the world are nil;
For the bad man is he who is caught
And cannot foot his bill.
And there is no place called hell:
And heaven is only a truth,
When a man has his way with a maid,
In the fresh keen hour of youth.

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

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

I married a girl with health
And virtue and spotless fame
I gave in exchange my wealth
And a proud old family name.
And I gave her the love of a heart
Grown sated and sick of sin.
My deal with the devil was all cleaned up.
And the last bill handed in.

She was going to bring 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 me was blind
And crippled and weak and sore!
And mother was left a wreck.
It was so she had settled my score.

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

    ("The Price He Paid" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.—Courtesy Rand McNally & Company.)

Men and boys of the priesthood, every member, the admonition of the Lord is ". . . be ye clean, that bear the vessels of the Lord"  Isa. 52:11