MOOSEHEART MAGAZINE
The Mooseheart House of God
and mother. But always this man has been wanting to do something that would bind together the three,—God, mother and childhood. So in time Jim grew greatly interested in the plan of gathering many children who had not been as fortunate as he in keeping their mothers and fathers as long as he was still blessed with the dear living love of the old folks. All these things connected up in this man’s mind and heart and energy and made him dream. And out of this dream came MOOSE-HEART.
Early in the history of MOOSEHEART the Governors took thought for the religious culture of the young people. A Sunday School was organized for all Protestant children, and the Catholic children were sent down to Aurora every Sunday morning in care of their church in that city.
So in those early days of Mooseheart, when the man Jim would spend days there, he would pass the great room where the boys and girls were singing their Sunday School hymns and having their talks about God. Then he would go down to the station to see the Catholic children coming back from Aurora where they had been at their early Mass and Sunday School, and it would all remind him of the old home town, when his mother stood at the home door and watched to see whether Jim and his brothers would turn down the right street to their Sunday School.
Now in the town where Jim had lived there were several churches, and when he went by his mother’s strict orders straight to his own Sunday School he crossed the path of other children going to their particular song and Bible services. On one street corner he always met a great stream of children who had been at early Mass and School. They were Catholics. As long as Jim was growing towards manhood he of course thought that everybody who went to a different school from his went to the wrong place. Like many people still think about religion, he thought HIS Sunday School religion was the only right one. But when Jim was tossed out into the great world he discovered that God was much bigger than any one style or form of religion, and while he kept devoted to his own Sunday School, because of his mother’s faith and love for that way of thinking, he felt that somebody ought to put up a great wide spreading roof with many accommodations for all kinds of religious expressions. It ought to follow in somehow with Christ's broad declaration, “In My Father’s House are many mansions.”
Now while this man was dreaming and gathering a splendid lot of people to help him materialize his dreams, and just when Mooseheart was getting a right good start, the great war came on and the boy Jim, grown to Director General Davis of the Loyal Order of Moose, went overseas to see how his many brethren of the Moose’ were coming on. There he got further inspiration from the boys whose devotion to their mothers shone on him again and again. In the presence of those terrible scenes he learned how great God is, and how well worth it is to have faith in Him and love for Him and devotion to Him. Thus another item was added to his thought. This House of God was going to be built to memorialize the soldiers of America who made the great sacrifice
(Continued on page 18)
Story of Filial Love and Patriotism
By J. A. RONDTHALER, Dean
should have all the advantages of their religious fervor. So they, especially the mother, insisted that the family group should be extra cuffed and collared and shoed and coated every Sunday to go to Sunday School. Rain or shine, cold or heat, Jim and his brothers must go to the little church and sing their songs and con their ten commandments and their beatitudes and psalms. Somehow as Jim,—that’s the name of j yJ	the aforesaid boy,—-grew up, his love for
■	his mother grew deeper and more
thoughtful, and always when he was ^ .׳■	traveling far out, hither and yon for
’ ■Sgjij his beloved people, the Moose, when ‘ *A	Sunday came round, he managed
to turn down some street where there was a church and where he could hear the children singing their hymns as he ,״y passed by the door and win-j* ׳ dows. Then he would think (!	tenderly of his mother and
*t*•‘	remember how she tortured
his hair and harrowed his face and plunged his feet into the unyielding shoes and strapped him in his knickerbockers and shooed him off to Sunday School with his brothers. And he was thankful. Those were precious moments in Jim’s life when he heard the children in the far away cities and towns sing-\ ing their Sunday School hymns. Somehow his mother and goodness and God and childhood all merged into one memory picture, which wore itself into the man’s heart and soul and mellowed him as it sweetened the Sunday morning. All this sentiment of boy love for mother and reverence for God and thought of his own childhood made Jim wish to do something for all of them,—Mother, God and \ children.
He did much for his mother,—let that suffice. How much and what it was and still is, is a thing that is not for the public but for that unpunished detail of many and many
Some years ago a little boy was	A
growing up towards manhood in a	•ri־
rolling mill down in Pennsylvania.
His father and mother were Welsh people and very much devoted to their church and “the old-time religion.” The family was large and it was tough sledding sometimes to keep the children’s stomachs well stocked and their backs well protected. But they did it, and with all their doing they insisted that their boys and girls
devotion and to father
boy’s service