Art and Design Commons^™

Americana, Doris Daley

Manuscripts

I ride over the hills and I see the sun rise on America. I see a vast continent through the purple haze. I see the deserts and the jungles - the summer sun and the winter snow. I see the people who live in this country - as they came, different a!' the corners of the earth they left, and as they are today, one and indivisible - the lifeblood of the land. I see their farms and their great cities. I see them alone and in milling crowds, and I hear the tramp of their marching feet.

Album Pieces, Elizabeth Calkins

Manuscripts

There are many scenes in my life which I shall never forget, though I have no tangible reminders. There is one which must have taken place when I was very / young, for the chief character is my great-grandma Smith, who died when she was ninety-eight, and that Was shortly after my third birthday. I can see her standing, as stern and straight as her unbending words, on the walk that led down to the street in front of the house. In the background there Was a corner of the porch with the side street vanishing behind it, for the …

A New Formal, Margaret Brayton

Manuscripts

The girl stood in the narrow doorway a moment before she went, slowly, into the living-room. She did not speak to her mother who was sitting in the dingy, brown leather chair by the window, did not seem to notice the anxious, gray eyes staring at her through old-fashioned, horn-rimmed glasses. She walked aimlessly about the room, then stopped to peer out of the window. "Mother," the girl began, still looking through the window into the cold, December twilight.

They Flash Upon That Inward Eye, Helen Fleischer

Manuscripts

Of course we never want or intend to forget the dear loved ones with whom we have lived and learned - those who have enriched our minds with their wisdom, beliefs, and interpretations of life, and have given us a gallery of happy memories which have a permanent place along with our ever increasing store of knowledge. However vivid these personalities may seem to us, yet, a few turns of the pages of a photograph album can bring their faces back again without any effort put forth on our part. Allow me to open this priceless book in order to …

Three Stages In My Mother's Life, John Whitaker

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

The Case Of The Pearl Necklace, William S. Mclean

Manuscripts

I had been teaching a class in psychology at Turner College for four years, when an incident occurred that threatened to bring the taint of scandal on the whole school. A member of one of the sororities reported the loss of a valuable pearl necklace, which, she thought, had been stolen during the dinner hour. The college officials made every attempt to discover the thief with little success. Suspicion's finger pointed to a young man by the name of Henry Stewart, but there was no tangible evidence upon which to make an accusation. Then Dr. Klinger, the president, asked me …

Grandpa's Story, Mary Margrette Schortemeier

Manuscripts

Grandpa was coming in. Leaning on his cane, she thought. She'd look around and see. Yes, leaning on his cane. And ready for his lunch. Noon meal was always dinner to him, though, even if it was only a cheese sandwich and a glass of milk.

Non-Conformist, Jeanne Gass

Manuscripts

Once Upon a time there was a little red horse. Not a real horse you know, but a wooden horse - a Merry-Go-Round horse. He was a nice little horse with a well developed personality and but one defect- he was red instead of gray. The One who made him had made a mistake, you know. Instead of making him gray with red spots he made him red with gray spots. Upon discovering this terrible mistake he ran to another of the Ones who make horses and confessed with averted eyes,

Lynch, Gwen Hayes

Manuscripts

"That's Lynch up there," volunteered Duke. Tom peered through the darkness up the tracks towards a jeweled spot at the end of the long narrow valley. The lights looked like children being dismissed from school, marching up the sides of the two mountains at first in neat rows outlining the terraces, then the few ahead, forgetting discipline in the sheer joy of freedom, scattering over the mountains in disarray. That one highest up is like I am, Tim thought, gladdest to get away from school.

Front Matter

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

The Will Of Villon, Joan Fuller

Manuscripts

On a fall evening in 1462 the grey began to creep up the narrow twisting streets of Paris and filled with blackness the carved mouths of the leering gargoyles which danced on the lower wooden stories of the houses. As the boy Jean called "Bon soir," to his master, the keeper of the hot baths, he could see over the roofs the pointed towers of Notre Dame, tinted scarlet by the setting sun. Paris was settling for the evening, the criers, like himself, were folding their wares and setting off for home. The streets were filled with bourgeois in cloth …

Volume 10, Issue 3: Full Issue

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Injustice, Helen Wells

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Moonlight Mood, Samuel Smith

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Checkmate, W. S. Mclean

Manuscripts

Six men sat around a table. They had been sitting there for two hours. The ash trays gave evidence of the intensity of their thought. The glasses had been emptied and refilled, and now, they were empty again. The silence of the room was as thick as the cigar smoke. The grandfather's clock in the corner counted off the seconds with a heavy tread. The hour was past midnight.

"What I Believe", Ruth Hoppe

Manuscripts

Life is an experience not to be missed. There are the rough spots in life of course, and then there are the smooth stretches when one is at peace with the world. One fine solution for the feeling of depression, insecurity, and futility is to stop and think, "Would life be full if it were a life of ease; would life have depth?"

A Disruption In The Family, Marjorie L. Swartz

Manuscripts

Flavius Germaine cocked his short, little leg over his knee, loosened his yellow polka-dotted tie, leaned back in his chair, and prepared to read the market reports. He tried to concentrate on the rise and fall of stocks, but the bang of a piano and wild shriek of a clarinet distracted his poor, befuddled brain. The noise ceased; within two seconds he heard the pad, pad of two pairs of rubber soles on the hardwood floor.

Three Reasons Why, Ted Lemaster

Manuscripts

The United States is a great nation not because of its natural water ways, acres of timber, acres of wheat, corn, oats, rye, mines of iron, coal, copper, tin. It is the people who man the water ways, level the trees and run the mills, sow the crops and reap the harvest, operate the mines who make the United States so great a nation. The people of the United States have made this a nation to be proud of because they have kept it growing, kept fighting, and kept the spirit of competition alive.

Elmer's Evolution, Maryann Mclaughlin

Manuscripts

Spring is here! Can't you hear the rumble of skates as the children zip by the house in their youthful glee? Can't you hear the mingled chatter of the spring birds? Can't you smell the sweetness of the pure, clean air - such a relief from that choking smog of the long winter? Can't you see the first buds as they peep through the small gray tips of the dismal twigs? And can't you see Elmer - his beautiful red hair and his bright eyes gleaming as they catch the ray of the warm, mellow sun? Can't you see him? …

There's A Soldier, Donna Hoffman

Manuscripts

As the peircing north wind blew his icy gusts around the corners and swept the streets with his broomlike blasts, the people stamped their feet and drew their coats more closely about them. It seemed as though Wind and Sun were having a terrific argument and Wind was doing his utmost to win this battle. The crowd was beginning to lose a little of the feverish excitement that a military parade always seems to cause. Suddenly the strains of the national hymn were carried to their ears; and, forgetting the cold, the crowd cheered and sang as the band marched …

Americanism, Herbert Eaton

Manuscripts

Americanism. This is not a new word to me; in fact, it is one with which I have been familiar for several years. Yet it has not been long since I have come really to understand and appreciate it.

The Cathedral Of Our Lady, Betty Alice Hodson

Manuscripts

Just one block from the central plaza of a small Mexican town, on La Calle de Las Rosas, stands a small Cathedral, built in 1830 by the hands and the sweat of peones who labored on nearby haciendas. It is built of limestone and marble, and is one of the finest Cathedrals in Northeastern Mexico, even though it is small, and seen by few but the townspeople. I shall try to show how it is seen through the eyes of three different people.

Team Fights Team, Robert L. Zinkan

Manuscripts

On a cool brisk Saturday afternoon in the late fall of the year, thousands sit watching two teams warming up to engage in a fierce battle scheduled to be raged long before by the coaches of the opposing teams. They have been practicing, putting themselves into condition for months, maybe years, in order to be prepared to defeat any team which they come up against. Later in the dressing room the coaches try to rouse their tempers by speaking strongly against their opponents. After making their blood boil with hate, he reminds them not to lose their heads because strategy, …

Tribute To "Bessie, The Jalopy", Bill Freeland

Manuscripts

"Bessie" was a good old Ford, even if she was of the 1924 vintage, with old-fashioned clincker tires and all the out-of-date accessories that made her comfortable like an old, old shoe.

In Fond Remembrance, Arthur Graham

Manuscripts

The late Rupert St. James, whose violent, tragic death created. heartfelt repercussions throughout the literary world, was born May 1, 1915. Rupert; although he early showed signs of poetic genius, did not come into his own until after the still unsolved disappearance of his father, himself a versifier of ability, in 1929. Graduating from Harvard in '34, Rupert had already written two volumes of poetry, On scholarship funds he did post-graduate work at Oxford, the University of Paris, and the University of Prague, all the while producing in an ever increasing flow the verse that was to characterize him as …

The Second Gull, Mary Margrette Schortemeier, Lucy Kaufman

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

The Legend Of Laughing Jack, Jack Kilgore

Manuscripts

Long before the starched, clean stiffness was gone from their striped denim work aprons, the greenest boys at Herr Grosskopf's wholesale house were familiar with the Legend of Laughing Jack. They heard it from the wrinkled and gnomelike Isenhorst; they heard it from the wrinkled and deaf Shmidt; they heard it from Schneider, Fischer, and Schultz; but the most terrifying accounts were those given by Sam, the colored janitor. Only Jones of the shipping department never talked of it, but then Jones was different.

The Gates Of Jerusalem, Arthur Hollander

Manuscripts

Far away, in the eastern part of the land, by the banks of the Jordan, the Lebanon mountains raise themselves up. On the slopes of the mountains a valley streeches out. There are fields and vineyards, orange groves and forests. In this valley a small village is built. In this small village live simple farmers. Among the farmers lives an old man, ninety years old, and his old wife, eighty-two years old. The old farmer and his wife live in their small, simple tent. The stable in which their white ass stands is built by the tent. By the stable …

Not One Of Them, David Craig

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

The Shadowed Vale, Joan Fuller

Manuscripts

The setting sun was reddening with its last fiery glow the walls of the great castle at Blois where it stood on a rising slope above the skirts of the town. It tipped the carved and traceried windows of the roof and gleamed vermillion on hilts of swords and pour-points and slashed trunk-hose as officers and men-at-arms bustled to and fro in the yard.

But though their faces were long and they bustled nervously, often they stopped in excited knots to whisper and cast curious glances at the windows of the royal suite. For the Dowager Queen lay dying in …