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Articles 7921 - 7950 of 12148
Full-Text Articles in Nonfiction
Dust, Mary G. French
Dust, Mary G. French
Manuscripts
It was August 21, 1936, in the days when Kansas was a part of our country known as the Dust Bowl. The sun shone down on a parched and thirsty earth. The lawn, which should have been a beautiful green velvet carpet, was instead an ugly brown expanse of dead grass whose roots had long ago given up the struggle to reach life-giving moisture. Where no vegetation grew, the ground was cracked and broken. The trees, prematurely brown, swayed lazily in a hot breeze which came drifting in from the west. Birds, mostly boisterous bluejays, friendly robins, twittering sparrows, and …
Complex Wally, Mary Cory
Complex Wally, Mary Cory
Manuscripts
I was told at lunch by one of my high school friends that Wally wanted to see me at two minutes after two on the second floor bridge. That was Wally all right, always doing something peculiar and very exact. I was on my way to the bridge at two, and as I rounded the corner of it, I saw that the "Remarkable" was already there. He was standing tall and gangly in front of the window looking down at the street and appearing in a rather desolate and serious mood.
Garden Of Eden, Ken Skelton
Garden Of Eden, Ken Skelton
Manuscripts
The large wrought iron gates were thrown open to admit the throngs of people of which we were a part. Supporting the gates were square, Substantial looking red brick posts; winding back through the posts was a narrow macadam road, which was last among the beautiful slopes. On one side stretched row upon row of small, heavily laden apple trees. The coloring was so perfect and the spacing so uniform that it seemed like an.overdone picture.
The Quaint And Romantic City, Josephine Haboush
The Quaint And Romantic City, Josephine Haboush
Manuscripts
Ebony-skinned negroes bearing round baskets atop their kinky heads, easily balancing their loads of fruit and vegetables, make their way across the uneven stones of the old French quarter of New Orleans. Bright-hued sunbonnets, hiding the faces of dusky wearers, add color to this quaint scene.
Java's Last Night, Richard G. Finley
Java's Last Night, Richard G. Finley
Manuscripts
He might have been your neighbor, or your boyfriend, or just the fellow you see clattering along in a Model A Ford any place in the country where college boys take the gang home from football games. He might have been, but now he was no part of that former life.
Her Majesty, Maxine Demlow
Her Majesty, Maxine Demlow
Manuscripts
Zooming through the ever-changing, lofty clouds, a Lockheed Lightning Interceptor came into view, her wings outspread as a huge eagle. Queen of the airways, she seemed propelled by some forceful, hidden power, concealed from the human eye. The sun reflecting the drab olive green wings as the P-38 made a gliding left bank was startlingly blinding.
Kitchen Kingdom, June Ann Goodrich
Kitchen Kingdom, June Ann Goodrich
Manuscripts
During the summer, the kitchen was the coolest and most cheerful place to find refuge from the summer heat. In the winter, it served as a sewing room, study and game room, as its old, iron stove was in great demand after the first frost.
Retrogression, Caroline Pressel
Retrogression, Caroline Pressel
Manuscripts
Suppose that you were suddenly to find yourself twenty-five miles from the nearest town in a cabin on Bay Talaunch in the Alabama forests. How would you manage in this modern day if you were that far from civilization? After having all of the conveniences of modern life as a part of one's heritage, it is a real art to be able to live happily and comfortably in such an environment.
The Lighthouse, Max Owens
The Lighthouse, Max Owens
Manuscripts
Oh, the weak feeling I had in the pit of my stomach that first Sunday as my car came to a stop in front of Blue Lodge, a place I had rented for the purpose of a community church. Most of the dwellings in this section were given some sort of name; this one suggested the owner's name.
Winter Fairyland, Patty Moores
No Military Autumn, Mary Cory
Rains Fall, Mary Cory
To Be Or Not To Be, Betty Hawkins
To Be Or Not To Be, Betty Hawkins
Manuscripts
Personality-analysis tests fascinate me. T spend hours brooding over magazine pages entitled How Well do You Know Yourself? ... So You Think You're Smart? ... Do You Have a Sense of Humour? ... Are You Kind to Animals and Morons?
Revelation In Discovery, Kitty Denbo
Revelation In Discovery, Kitty Denbo
Manuscripts
The green and amber patches of grass stretch from the sedate black enameled fence which envelopes the front yard to the sturdy, but well-loved back yard fence. This wrought iron guardian is fancifully decorated with sprigs of greenery and a few red berries which impart to it just a touch of dignified color and give the passerby an impression of loftiness. For it is the sentinel which stands guard against all intruders who might trespass into the private domain of liquid green velvet expanse.
A Point Of View, Jean Pittenger
A Point Of View, Jean Pittenger
Manuscripts
For many years I had the distorted idea that a large back yard was a luxury to be desired since ours was comparatively small. I had gazed with envy at spacious, green lawns, edged with even, neatly trimmed hedges, with perhaps a row of rustling popular trees at one end, and carefully tended rock gardens at the other, rendering it a scene of symetry and color; yards with rose-covered trellises or graceful bird baths.
Epitome Of New York, Alan Markum
Epitome Of New York, Alan Markum
Manuscripts
Rushing, surging, tough - roaring, overfed, rough. Hard as steel. The cultural and financial seat of the world; the leading port of America; Noisy, moving, ever-changing. The greatest melting pot of the globe; the home of the common man. That's New York!
Poems, Joan Fuller
Shadow Of A Cube, Janet Jarrett
Geometry Of The Greek, Janet Jarrett
Saturday Night Date, Mary Chappell
Saturday Night Date, Mary Chappell
Manuscripts
She adjusted her hat and stuck in the pin which held it securely to the back of her head. He would arrive any minute now, and, she thought philosophically, whatever else she was, she was punctual. She admired herself in the mirror - a nicely proportioned figure in her little suit, good legs, and dark red hair that hung loosely beneath her black hat. Under her short veil her face was peach-colored and smiling. She whirled about playfully in front of the mirror. No wonder he was proud of her! It amused her to see him try not to smile …
D.M. Greer, Sportsman, Lucy Kaufman
D.M. Greer, Sportsman, Lucy Kaufman
Manuscripts
David McCawley Greer extended a tanned and exquisitely proportioned hand to the gleaming silver cigarette box and withdrew a cigarette with the casual facility for which he was so admired. Then to complete this remarkably adroit gesture he smiled a particularly disarming smile, with only the barest trace of a sneer in it, at Mrs. Celia Haven Morsell, who after countless endeavors had at last succeeded in engaging David in conversation and whom he intensely despised. The fortunate dowager, ecstatic at being so favored by such an enviable and esteemed young man, reciprocated with an expression which might also have …
Yearning, Ione Colligan
Concerning Mr. Mundy, Janet Jarrett
Concerning Mr. Mundy, Janet Jarrett
Manuscripts
Mr. Mundy lived on Seventh street. Seventh street lay between Sixth street and Eighth street which was the only way Mr. Mundy could tell that it was his street. Otherwise the three streets were exactly alike; they had the same houses and the same trees and the same square green lawns. There was no way you could tell them apart except that Seventh street lay between Sixth and Eighth.
To The Margin, Joy Higdon
To The Margin, Joy Higdon
Manuscripts
The castle was a huge gray mass of stone, high on the hill. Once it had been the splendor and austerity of Tintagel, castle of King Arthur. Now, a bleak gray ruin, the splendor and awe-inspiring quality persisted.
The Chord, Joan Fuller
The Chord, Joan Fuller
Manuscripts
The train moved into the reflection of the dawn. Paul opened his eyes and looked out at the grey-black silhouettes of telephone poles stalking by, and the slowly rounding land. For a moment in the dawn, they looked like half-remembered poles and fields moving in a dream. But then he was awake and knew he was awake and California was ahead.
Volume 10, Issue 4: Full Issue
Things I Am Curious To Learn, Marylouise Miles
Things I Am Curious To Learn, Marylouise Miles
Manuscripts
Like every other child I started out with a burning curiosity. At five that unextinguishable fire was a horrible thing. Horrible, that is, to those coming within hearing distance. "Why" was the only word in my vocabulary, and every moment made me more masterful in its use. Why do ants build their houses like that? Why is grass green instead of some other color? Why are you dusting, Mama? Why do I have to wear my coat today? Why? Why? Why? Of course those sentences, are exasperating; so was I.
Just For Fun, Tom Stump
Just For Fun, Tom Stump
Manuscripts
The first book that I remember having read for myself was A. A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh. I read and re-read this book many times, as well as its twin, House at Pooh Corner. Whenever I grew tired of reading one of these books, I would skim through the pages and look at the winsome little pictures of Pooh, or Ear, the donkey, or Kanga, the kangaroo. Although as I grew up I soon considered myself above such juvenile literature, I was amazed not very long to find that I still enjoyed reading about the exploits of Pooh, the amiable …