Nonfiction Commons^™

Front Matter

Manuscripts

Front matter includes: front and back covers, table of contents, and masthead.

Volume 4, Issue 2: Full Issue

Manuscripts

Full issue of the January 1937 issue of Manuscripts. Includes work by Wayne Hill, Margaret Pierson, Elizabeth Messick, Margaret Kendall, Mary Burrin, Grace Ferguson, Betty Richart, Charles Aufderheide, Dorothy Steinmeier, Mars B. Ferrell, Cathryn Smith, Ruth Marie Hamill, Phillipa Schreiber, Robert Ayers, Marguerite Ellis, Wilbur Elliot, Margaret Parrish, William Steinmetz, Glenn White, Jack Howard, Richard Joyce, Anne Horne, Dave Craycraft, Charles Hostetter, Ralph W. Morgan, Louise Ryman, Norman Bicking, Dorothy Schilling, Mildred Barnhill, and Marion Swann.

The Hill Church, Marion Swann

Manuscripts

Approaching the main traveled road, we turned a corner and saw, over the hill, the white shiningness of the country church. It nestled cosily in a slight hollow, gleaming brightly against the somber background of a cemetery so old that the whiteness and blackness of polished stones had merged into a general greenness, highlighted by two or three new white stones.

My Three Years In Europe, Mildred Barnhill

Manuscripts

Life on an ocean liner is a lot of fun as one becomes initiated into the many devices for whiling away the idle hours. After being at sea for four or five days, seeing nothing but the broad expanse of water, it is very thrilling to sight another vessel. Warning that land will soon be seen is first given by the sea gulls, flying out sometimes great distances from the shore. The first land seen is the Scilly Islands, then the amazing chalk cliffs of southwestern England.

Dill Pickles, Dorothy Schilling

Manuscripts

What completes a delectable vision of swiss cheese on rye? What relish is most popular on a wiener-roast? What is the complement for potato salad on a luncheon plate? What is a picnic without dill pickles? There is your answer -- dill pickles. The majority of vigorous, healthy people have a tendency to reach for a pickle. One seldom stops to credit the warty little green vegetable with its due rights.

Pittsburgh -- Slightly Wet, Norman Bicking

Manuscripts

Pittsburgh's Great Flood of 1936 was the most perfectly staged catastrophe it has been my misfortune to witness. Only one being could have been capable of such a deed, and that being none other than Old Mother Nature herself. She planned it, and provided the characters.

Mistake By Noah, Louise Ryman

Manuscripts

It might have changed history -- but it didn't.

Noah was happy. A home-loving body was Noah, content with his lot. He had his wife, and he had his pigs. He had his garden an a house full of in-laws.

These Three: Beauty, Power, Knowledge, Ralph W. Morgan

Manuscripts

It is fitting and natural that I, who was born and have lived most of my life in Indianapolis, should think that this city is one of the most beautiful communities in the United States. However, if all of the other beauty spots of Indianapolis were excluded, the World War memorial plaza in the heart of the city would still give me a reason for a belief in the abundant beauty of my birthplace. Concentrated in this comparatively small space are the representatives of three of man's highest attainments: the DePew memorial fountain is esthetic beauty, the World War memorial …

Apples And Glass (A Comment On Picasso's "Pomme Et Verre"), Charles Hostetter

Manuscripts

"No, Junior, the picture is not hung upside down."

"How does Mother know? They don't hang pictures upside down."

"The picture is called "Apple and Glass."

Shapes In The Night, Dave Craycraft

Manuscripts

People are shapes, and things are shadows; places a blur, and faces a blank. All people sleep sometime, but cities never -- and never all people at once. The city's roar is a decrescendo from midnight on, but it never dies down to silence. Most windows are dark; most lights are out, but never all.

Prologue To Autobiography, Anne Horne

Manuscripts

The guests had arrived for the christening. A steady stream of admiring relatives and close friends filed past the ruffled bassinet wherein lay the object of all eyes -- the baby. Last in that long line came the eighty year old great-grandmother, whose still clear eyes told of that indomitable spirit contained in her tiny form. With bated breath the rest of the family watched her stoop over the baby, catch her breath, and straighten up with an inscrutable smile on her rather thin lips.

Moving Into College, Richard Joyce

Manuscripts

I'm here, so what? All the years, and all the letters of "wish you were back," all the homesick hopes, and all the train fare can never bring me home again. College is my story and I'm stuck with it.

Autobiographical Recipe, Jack Howard

Manuscripts

A Recipe for a Short Autobiography:

2 parts paternal ancestry

2 parts maternal ancestry

3 parts your own personal characteristics

3 parts predictions regarding the future

4 parts candor

Seasoning of clever phrases, punctuation, capitalization, and fresh ideas to taste.

The Curse Of Being Clever, Glenn M. White

Manuscripts

Stephen Leacock mentions in one of his essays the horseman who "leaped into the saddle and galloped off madly in all directions." It would take a clever horse and a clever rider to do that, but Leacock was not necessarily being clever when he wrote it.

I Hit My Mark, William Steinmetz

Manuscripts

The hunt was ready to start, but only after a hunting ground was secured. Since I was one of a polite party of hunters, as hunters go, I left the car to ask a farmer's permission to hunt on his property.

Indianapolis Times, Margaret Parrish

Manuscripts

It is growing dark swiftly now. The slight mist that hovered around the Monument is getting heavier. Lights blink on to make the War Memorial Plaza a distant fairy land. (Only half the lights went on. That is good. Otherwise it would look like a Power and Light Company advertisement.) The pigeons on the Circle are quieting down, and Christ Church is gray with shadows.

Tangible Evidence, Wilbur Elliott

Manuscripts

Young Kipling Wiley silently inserted the key, and turned the knob with the greatest of caution. As he closed the door behind him, it gave only the merest hint of a squeak. Kipling mentally congratulated himself on the mouse-like quiet of his entrance, and then started across the floor on tip-toe.

Soft Answer, Marguerite Ellis

Manuscripts

Mr. Hughes was downcast. In fact, Mr. Hughes was pessimistic. It was not the fact that it was Sunday -- Mr. Hughes was not a church-going man -- but simply that the view from the big front window of his newspaper office was neither scenically inspiring nor financially hopeful.

Woodcut, Robert Ayers

Manuscripts

Abstract woodcut illustration.

Fate, Phillipa Schreiber

Manuscripts

Clacking little wooden beads.

Moved by stronger will than ours.