Photography Commons^™

Great Books Discussion On Artistotle's Politics

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(We are pleased to present a transcript of a recent Great Books meeting conducted by Dr. Clide Aldrich and Dr. Clarence Efroymson. Betty Cramer, Sue Higginbotham and Nancy Dye, members of the Advanced Shorthand Class, took the transcript. The contents of the discussion on Aristotle's Politics have been condensed.)

Free Enterprise, Jim Sullivan

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The Veterans Administration had given me an unusually fast job. It had only taken them eleven day s short of a year to get around to giving me the dental examination I had requested. I seated myself in a chair in the dentist's reception room and picked up a magazine.

Autobiography Of The Late J. Harrison Peabody, Richard H. Jowett

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WHY I am walking today I do not know and bleached rain stained stones are rough against my feet but I am calling on a friend he sits in a tower and to him come men with questions come the people yes to ask him what he says...

To A House That Is Loved, Verse Forms Class

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No abstract provided.

Atlantis, The Lost Continent, Judy Johnston

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(We are printing Miss Judy Johnston's complete source theme The Lost Island of Atlantis, not only because of its universal interest, but also because of the aid it may offer to those students who are preparing work along the same lines. We recommend it as interesting, informative reading.)

Vincent Van Gogh's Personal Possession, Bill Dewitt

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I am an amatuer artist, so when I was in Arles in southern France, it was nat­ural. for me to want to see all the places thereabouts that the famous Dutch painter Vincent van Gogh had been concerned with when he lived there in 1888.

Not Very Much, George W. Coffin

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MAGGIE Malone tucked number in t 0 her shabby purse and goodby to Dominic. Each evening he gave her a ride home from the department store where she worked as a seamstress in the alterations room. Tonight, Dominic had sold her a quarter chance in a pool sponsored by the Italian churches of the city; he had sold the chances all along his vegetable route. At first Maggie argued that she just couldn't afford it. Why, she was behind on her rent as it was, and if it weren't for the kindness of old Mrs. Ruben, she'd be without a …

Night Town, Lost Time, Louise Retherford

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No abstract provided.

"Noon Edition", Richard J.O. Greene

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NANNY Martin sprawled against the corner of the building and stared directly into the brilliance of the street light. He felt like crying - the champagne had made him feel like crying, and the little gold statue in his hand made him feel like crying.

Sanctuary, Rosemary Ronsheim

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HAVING wished for a moment that the pink heat behind the isingless door would him instead of burning the sales of his shoes, the boy jumped to his feet. He had pressed hard against the short, iron skirt of the round stove and the burning leather vias scorching. At the same time, Mr. Dorty had called "Sixty." Mr. Dorty was night operator for the District Telegraph Company, and the boy was "Number 60 of the DTC." The operator instructed him to go to "325" for a message. No time was lost in putting on a coat, since this was an …

Jesu Maria 1960, Allyn Wood

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The massive bell, resting on the rug in their living-room amid its travelling - wrappings, was much larger than they had expected. The girl and her mother felt their cottage grow smaller like a rock surrounded by rising tide. They were not inclined to discuss the bell in its presence, lest their minds turn on them with salty and even rude criticism from the inanimate thing's point of view; but they noticed for the first time how poor was the view from their windows, which did not look to sea. It was a great iron bell, with rust scoured thin …

Front Matter

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No abstract provided.

Volume 14, Issue 1: Full Issue

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No abstract provided.

The Last Word, The Editor

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No abstract provided.

The Departure, The Vital Storm, Frances King

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No abstract provided.

Lady, Jack Averitt

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In a little mound of dirt about two miles south of Kwanghan, China, lies the remains of the best friend the 425th Bombardment Squadron ever had. Her name was "Lady" - a name that was symbolic of her character, a name that became synonymous with luck in the only heavy bomber outfit in China.

Futility, Anonymous Author

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We stood in bread lines. We slept on "trustee" mattresses, drank "trustee" powdered milk, ate "trustee" canned corn--beef, wore "trustee" shoes and clothing, lived in "trustee" houses, burned "trustee" coal. We existed. We are today's young men and women. We were yesterday's children. We carry the scorch of the depression. Our parents knew what they were fighting. We knew only what we heard in the muted conversations of our parents, the look on our father's face when he came home from tramping the streets all day looking for a job or just sitting on the Court House steps.

A Country Rhapsody, Beverly Mussawir

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The water was so clear that I could see the bottom at the deepest point. Bright shafts of sunlight shone through the branches of the trees and pierced through the water to the bottom where they glistened on the brightly-colored pebbles, transforming them into shining jewels.

My Room Is Mirrors, Jack Wilkins

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No abstract provided.

On Solitude, William T. Edwards

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In the early months of World War II, I had occasion to spend six months on the construction of a refinery in the northern reaches of the Yukon Territory. Because of the inaccessibility of the location, men hired to build the refinery were flown in by airplane. A more remote spot is not to be found on the North American continent than this particular region. The entire Yukon boasts of only two small towns, Whitehorse and Dawson- cities that came into being during the gold rush of 1898. The only other points of human habitation are a small number of …

How I Got My Name, Andrew Sutton White

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During the last days of slavery, my grandfather was a child on a plantation in Mississippi. He, being the son of a favorite household servant, was given the privilege of studying with the master's children under an efficient tutor. Gratefulness for this opportunity and eagerness to learn caused him to advance rapidly.

Secret, Lester C. Nagley Jr.

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For weeks we have been sitting here in this position. The camouflage nets have been draped over each vehicle, looking like a nightmare out of the Arabian Nights, for weeks now. Everything has a harried, slovenly look, but maybe it's because this is a "secret" position. When we were ordered up here, it was under the heaviest cloak of secrecy. All identification was removed from the trucks, each man was inspected for any signs of which outfit he belonged to; they went through our clothing for addresses or cards. This was big, we had been told. We were to cross …

I Have A Rendezvous, George C. Tyler

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There was no light in the compartment, unless you want to count a dim red night lamp at the base of a bulkhead as light. For a moment the red glare confused him, but when he rolled over, a carbine butt struck his forehead and he knew exactly where he was.

Going Home, Anne Morgan

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We retired early, although sleep seemed a waste of time as we were so anxious to start, but rest was needed for the long day ahead. When the soft gray violet light of dawn peeped out of the East, we scrambled out of bed. The first faint call of the redbird floated through the window, and the song of the neighborhood oriole seemed sweeter than ever, because we were so happy. The rest of the world was hushed. It was for the moment ours and ours alone.

Leaf By Leaf, Wendell D. Phillips

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A Tree in Autumn is a lovely sight. One tree alone can concentrate the beauty of a whole woodland, leaf by leaf and branch by branch, as one flower can give the essence of a whole garden.

Lady Of The Sky, Glenn H. Fisher

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THERE among the sunlit spaces you came to have a talk with me. I saw you first standing on a sunbeam with your head thrown back and your hair streaming in the wind. On tiptoe you were--laughing--and your laughter was a harmony to the wild, strange music of the sky. How lovely you were--Iike an angel who had showered in the goldust of the sun.

Let's Call Them Glimpses, C.P. Hopkins

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No abstract provided.

Afternoon Piece, Mary Alice Kessler

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I sat down in the gray and green chair

And crossed my legs with retrospect,

The stem of the shining creme de menthe glass

Quivered between his long white fingers.

Doors, Edna Hinton

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No abstract provided.

Maybe Tomorrow, C.P. Hopkins

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HARRY, I wish I had a typewriter. If I had one right here now, I'd sit down and write a story. No, I don't think it would be a short story. It'd be closer to a novel. Yes, I'm sure it would be a novel.