Illustration Commons^™

Rhyme For A Volume Of W. H. Hudson, Allyn Wood

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No abstract provided.

Pastorale, Mary Alice Kessler

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CHORUS:

We chant of an age

A trim, nervous

Time Squared into precise line,

Sheer mathematics, a flawless steel claw.

This is the time of soaring monuments

This is the time of formulae pyramids

This is the time of shining mechanism

This age is dwarfing its sire.

Front Matter

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No abstract provided.

Volume 13, Issue 2: Full Issue

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No abstract provided.

Vignettes

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No abstract provided.

The Village Store, Bill Osborn

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I sometimes wonder if my great-grandfather would recognize our village store. To be sure, the size and general shape of today's shop would differ little from the one he knew, but might he not be surprised to see the fire-engine red of the Coca-Cola signs plastered abundantly over the dark brown clapboards?

Grandmother Looks On, Rosemary Ronsheim

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Pretend for a little while that you are seventy or eighty years old. Put yourself in the position of your grandmother who has come to live with you since grandfather died. It is seven-thirty in the morning and you are sitting in the living room. You have probably received a brief "good morning" when you stepped into the kitchen and may have been brushed aside as someone leaped to save the burning toast. You very sensibly have announced, "I'll go away until the children are off to school."

Teeth Tales, Virginia Rodman

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False teeth and the fashion of filling teeth were known even by the ancient Egyptians, but the science of dentistry is a fairly recent one. Just as far back as colonial days when life was centered in New England, the care of teeth was very crude as compared to modern methods.

My Father, Kathryn Alfs

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My father is five feet eleven inches tall. He has large grey-green eyes, a somewhat too-large nose, a medium sized mouth, and a very square jaw. His physique is typically middle-aged. After being teased to destraction about being built like a butter-churn, he now wears. a corset with the fond delusion that it pushes his stomach into his chest and looks youthful. Aloud he swears it is for his posture. He now resembles a top-heavy butter-churn.

Gentlemen, Be Seated, William Miller

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I'm a little devil. Every morning I walk a block to the bus stop preceding the one in front of my house so that I can get a seat. I feel sure my neighbors give me icy stares as I sit comfortably with my nose in a book. I never see them. Yesterday morning I was too late to walk -to the other stop, so I stood while the lady next door sat in my seat and smiled at me with sarcastic little daggers throughout the fifteen-minute ride. She probably thinks I have no conscience, but I do and I …

The Incident Of The Apple, Jeanne Mccoy

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For the last five years, Pa had babied and coaxed this pet tree of his. It was healthy and well-developed, but never before had there even been the slightest excuse of an apple.

Kelly's "Rock Of Gibralter", Barbara Barth

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"Kelly, Kentucky! Stop here three minutes. Next stop Hopkinsville." A town like a million others. Hay, feed and grain shed and a dinky little station. A small boy, whose pants were patched with flesh, and a dog mooching on the platform. Everyone on the day coach gives Kelly one look and one sigh and pulls in his neck. Just another three-minute stop.

The Blades That Severed Two Lives, William Hardman

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The snow was still falling as it had done during the past three days. The wind was gaining momentum as the flakes glistened in the light of the shell-bursts. This was a new obstacle for the men who had fought through the rain and mire of France and Belgium. Although the defensive position was just inside the land boundary of Germany, the climate had not changed with the borderline. Winter had set in.

Sleigh Bells Ring, Joanna Jennings

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"Jimmy! Jimmy! Come quick! It's snowing again." Immediately two freckled noses were pressed into mere buttons at the window, as two pairs of eyes gazed rapturously at the whitening world.

Autobiography [Part Iii], Irene Brown

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Before graduating from nurses training, I started serving in the capacity of Supervisor of Nurses of the Eli Lilly Research Clinic at City Hospital. Here we had both an in-patient and an out-patient clinic where we were doing research on blood dyscrasias and hypertension. In this position I continued on at the hospital with the Lilly Company until my marriage, April 4, 1941.

Mrs. Harper, Marjorie Little

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Mrs. Harper came to keep house for Grandma many years ago when everyone in the family was ill. Grandma had about given up hope of any answers to her advertisements asking for help. One day a taxi drove up in front of the house. A small, bird-like woman hopped out. Her hair was pulled tightly back into a knot at the back of her neck. She wore a gray dress and a funny little hat perched on top of her head. She paid the driver and came lightly up the steps. Ever since then Mrs. Harper has belonged to us …

The New Recruit, William T. Sharp

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The new recruit has just entered a completely different phase of life in which he immediately becomes extremely insecure. He has no idea what is coming next, and this insecure feeling is so radically different from the security of the average American home that he suffers a considerable amount of anxiety until he is able to make an adequate adjustment to service life. He is no longer allowed to say what he pleases when he feels the urge to do so, and the resulting suppressed emotion often makes him irritable toward his fellow cohorts.

Winged Suicide, Jack Demlow

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With every flight you become more convinced that a combat mission in this ship is nothing short of suicide. This :suicide ship is the Army Air Forces' CG- 4A Cargo Glider, commonly referred to as the "Whisper Ship," "Flying Coffin," "G-Bird," or "One-way Johnnie." Just looking at the glider, crouched in its own grotesque manner on the runway, makes you say to yourself, "How will it ever stay in one piece during the flight-not to speak of the landing shock?" Approaching the ship, you can not help noticing the flimsy fabric, the wooden skids beneath the repulsive, stubby nose, and …

The Hand Of Fate, Muriel Holland

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Anita Colby ripped open the yellow envelope in her hand and devoured its message in one hasty glance. "Jan!" she screamed. "Jan! You'll never guess what!" Her roommate emerged from the depths of a wardrobe trunk long enough for a curious "What's up?"

Une Belle Jour En Normandie, David Craig

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The two soldiers lying on their bellies in the slit trench tried desperately to burrow their bodies deeper in the slime. Bits of wet grass and broken twigs were imbedded in the oozing mire which covered their helmets, raincoats, leggings, and clodhoppers, giving them the protective coloring of their muddy surroundings...