Illustration Commons^™

Trilogy, Mary Alice Kessler

Manuscripts

The curtain rose with a threatening, quiet swish,

Like the brush of a dove's wing on a whitened face,

And dullard drums were married to the heart

In softly steady beat of skin near skin.

The Lost Children, Allyn Wood

Manuscripts

The children passed Mrs. Sibling's window as she was having supper. The corner lamp had just gone on, and no one had passed on the street for a long while. They straggled across the window, which she faced like a companion across table; one family, she thought, poor and dignified -for Mrs. Sibling, although retired, never would cease to be a social worker-all different sizes, of whom first one and then another took the lead in a pseudopodic motion from the mass, only to draw in uncertainly. They progressed as slowly as the littlest boy who dragged his feet and …

Baguio, Frederic A. Gronau

Manuscripts

Being operations officer in a medical supply depot in the Philippines was one job I thoroughly enjoyed, for it kept me very busy keeping a check on all the depot's operating activities. In order to do this, I had to make frequent visits to all parts of the installation to see first hand how the work was progressing. It was during one of these trips that our civilian chief storekeeper, Manual Picardo, stopped me, pointed to the sky and said, "Baguio."

Speak Of The Devil, Rosemary Browne

Manuscripts

OsKar Castlereagh, a man well past the middle age, sat on a large sofa with his wife, Jeanie. Around them were gathered men from his profession, all musicians, most of them talented and a few hanging on to still cherished illusions. Castlereagh was obviously the prominent figure of the group, according to the number of eyes focused upon him. He sat forward with his elbows propped upon his knees, holding a cigarette between two long slender fingers. A spiral cloud of smoke was drifting up past his face to the ceiling making his eyes squint. His narrowed eyes made one …

London Tower, Charles J. Hornbach

Manuscripts

I could hardly say that I was disillusioned as at last we stood outside and viewed for the first time the famous Tower of London, for I really didn't know exactly what to expect. From stories I had heard I knew that the Tower couldn't be just that-a tower; but what else? The name is misleading.

The Bogy Word Will Get You, Jack Hayes

Manuscripts

(Honorable Mention, Essa.y Division, 1946, Butler Literary Contest)

Writing in the British publication, "Left," Major Lyall Wilkes, M.P., states that political labels mean nothing. Labels have about the same meaning in the United States. Every politican in this country claims he believes in democracy. And every politican does, for everyone in the United States does believe in democracy. And politicans being part of the people must believe in democracy.

Poems, Louise Retherford

Manuscripts

(Honorable Mention, Butler Literary Contest, Poetry Division)

Sweat, David Craig

Manuscripts

(Honorable Mention, Short Story Division, 1946, Butter Literary Contest)

Sweat boiled from under the rim of the soldier's helmet and dropped in his dust reddened eyes. He pulled up his ammunition belt and groped futilely for his handkerchief in a tight-mouthed pocket, gave it up, and wiped his face on the sleeve of his fatigue jacket.

Three Moods From Childhood, Edna Hinton

Manuscripts

(Honorable Mention, Butler Literary Contest, Poetry Division)

The Most Unforgettable Character I'Ve Met, David Craig

Manuscripts

(First Place, Essay Division, 1946, Butler University Literary Contest)

The most unforgettable character I've met was my stepfather. In general stepfathers aren't very popular with their stepchildren, but he was an exception in this respect as he was in so many others.

The Wilted Petal, Mary Alice Kessler

Manuscripts

(First Place, Short Story Division, 1946, Butler Literary Contest)

Edna lifted the wilted wild rose petal from the dusty, little table and looked at it carefully as if it were some lovely, cherished thing. She turned slightly as she heard the uneven step of her father on the porch, and then she smiled slowly.

Poems, Allyn Wood

Manuscripts

(First prize, Butler' Literary Contest, Poetry Division)

Front Matter

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Volume 13, Issue 3: Full Issue

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No abstract provided.

Vignettes

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No abstract provided.

A Typical Little Boy, Anne Sellers

Manuscripts

Tumbling from a bright school bus, a tousled-headed boy shoots imaginary bandits as he gallops up the driveway and into the house. He illustrates the typical school boy of eight or nine returning from a day in school.

The Attack, William E. Laycock

Manuscripts

A slight salt spray came over the bow and dampened my face. There was; a fresh breeze and I could see whitecaps on the rolling blue sea. It was the Pacific ocean and I was standing on the bridge of the U. S. S. Bashaw, a submarine of the United States Navy.

How Important Are Grades?, Sam Newlund

Manuscripts

There is no accurate, concrete method of measuring academic achievement. It certainly cannot be done by issuing grades at certain intervals throughout the course of our formal education. This practice, it seems to me, has certain limited values, but its importance is greatly overemphasized by students, and even by instructors.

Ascent Into The Blue, Claris Dake

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No abstract provided.

Compulsory Military Training, Robert Hays

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No abstract provided.

Compulsory Military Training, John L. Walton

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No abstract provided.

Home Again, Laverne Price

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Love And Hate, Janet Blatt

Manuscripts

Love and hate are the two most violent, turbulent emotions, known to mankind. Although at first it seems that the two emotions are poles apart, after careful analyzation many outstanding similarities can be found.

The Average American Student, Martha Chevalier

Manuscripts

The average American student is too little concerned with the academic phase of his education. I believe that most American students continue their higher education for one of several reasons: to respect their parent's desire that they go to school; -to continue in that pursuit of hedomism which graduation from high school has temporarily terminated; or in the case of some, to further their knowledge and stimulate their minds.

Birth, John E. Joyce

Manuscripts

In James T. Farrell's memorable novel, A World I Never Made, there is a scene in which Jim O'Neill's wife tells him that she is pregnant. They already have five children and are so poor that they have been forced to ask a relative to raise one of the boys. Jim realizes that this new child will probably know nothing save the misery of poverty and yet he cannot help but feel a certain pride in the fact that he is to be a parent once more. This is typical of fatherhood.

How I Learned To Ride A Horse, Lee M. Honts

Manuscripts

My first day in the corral at Ft. Riley, Kansas, "World's Largest Cavalry Post," was one filled with apprehension and dread. Learning to ride a horse was the objective of each rookie in the troop that day. The animal I was assigned to ride appeared like an elephant in size, with a reverse hump in his back. But that, the drill sergeant informed me, was the saddle!

Maggie And Jiggs, Marilyn Mitchell

Manuscripts

Every daily and weekly newspaper has a section devoted to "comic strip operas." Some people are extremely attached to certain comic strip characters ..They refuse to buy a newspaper which omits a blow by blow description of the daily lives of their particular favorites. Of all the famous comic strip characters now living on inside pages of our great newspapers, two of the best-known and best-loved are Jiggs and his nagging, fault-finding wife, Maggie.

Home Again, Joseph Zimmer

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Buddy, A. T. Blocker

Manuscripts

My most unforgetable character is a Polish forced laborer that my platoon picked up near Leipzig, Germany. I was not long in finding out that we had quite a character on our hands.

First of all, I had better tell you how we acquired "Buddy," as our friend came to be known. Who gave him the name, I don't know, but he seemed to respond to it so well, we let it stick.

A Trap, C. W. Bockstahler

Manuscripts

Just after I was discharged from the Army, my parents and other people often asked me what I disliked most about the Army. Was it the regimentation, the food, the officers, - what was my pet peeve? My reply has been very consistent: the pockets on Army fatigue pants.