SONNET I He who, most loving, left our temporal state, Alone is pure volition choosing death; He who, most wounded, bade his wounds create A man, in gnostic sorrow gave him breath, Leaving himself in him, in pain, withdrew—— (How meager must our frantic lusts appear, Will for possession, raging... Show moreSONNET I He who, most loving, left our temporal state, Alone is pure volition choosing death; He who, most wounded, bade his wounds create A man, in gnostic sorrow gave him breath, Leaving himself in him, in pain, withdrew—— (How meager must our frantic lusts appear, Will for possession, raging passion through Our thwarted systems--p1agued with deSperate fear Of having and not having, blessing change) "Touches our heavy, heated human hearts, lnfusing holy serum, whollv strange, Yet therapeutic, new creation starts Made eros which delights to have and know Becomes agape at the letting—go. Why Tis true I am not good I never will be good, But can't I soothe mv soul With nourishment from others? Can’t I see the good They have, and fortify my life With hope that the world Will benefit from them? Tis true The world is not good. Show less
Her dream Went back to the day, now two seasons ago, when she had gone with her mother to the market town to see the great festival in honor of the god Krish— na. "Mother, who rides in that sedan chair? Some man of honor must have come to make sacrifice at Kantara today." "My daughter, I heard... Show moreHer dream Went back to the day, now two seasons ago, when she had gone with her mother to the market town to see the great festival in honor of the god Krish— na. "Mother, who rides in that sedan chair? Some man of honor must have come to make sacrifice at Kantara today." "My daughter, I heard yesterday from a journeying Sadhu that a prince's son has come to visit in the home of our noble lord. He is a distant kinsman of the one who lives in the palace of the lotus flowers." The milling crowd parted to let the chair bearers pass to the temple with the noble prince. With shouts of command they pushed the people back. They set the sedan down; the young lordly prince stepped out and cast a boyish smile upon the admiring crowd. Nor did his roving eye fail to see the pleasing beauty of the shepherd girl, as her eyes met his in that age-old understanding that knows no barrier of caste. One day, in the month of the harvesting, Gopini Lal rose to a new day of labor. The sound of flailing grain could already be heard from the threshing floor, but Gopini seemed to be far away. "Gopini, my child, where are your thoughts these days? Yesterday you dropped a bowl of milk, and today you seem to be walking in a dream. Can it be that my child is ill?" Gopini did not answer but went about her work a little faster. “Mother of mine, will you tell me the story again about our lord Krishna ” I remember you told it to us when we were young. You said that we must be watchful in our herd— ing because this would please our god, who came to dance with the maidens of old as they cared for their flocks. Did you not choose my name in honor of those Gopinies to whom the lord Krishna showed his favor? 0, Mother, could a girl watching her herds on the hillside still find favor in his sight?" “My daughter, though you are trying to veilyour thoughts. your mother under— stands. Can it be that my child is dreaming of another prince who one day came to worship lord Krishna at the temple? For shame, my child, to dream such haughty dreams] Are you not the daughter of a village cattle raiser? Will your father not find you a worthy man of our caste? For your very dreams we could be chastised at the temple. Know you not that caste is a river that no man ever crosses and lives? Know you not that only when your soul leaves the lowly abode of a farmer’s caste can it return to the princely mansion of marble?" Show less
Caught by my shirt-tail On a branch jutting Out from a cliff—wall, While night is shutting. in, Can I grow so inured To my suspension That I can assure you There is no fourth dimension? A Criticism of the Above The modern age is said to be characterized by secularism. Secularism in com— mon... Show moreCaught by my shirt-tail On a branch jutting Out from a cliff—wall, While night is shutting. in, Can I grow so inured To my suspension That I can assure you There is no fourth dimension? A Criticism of the Above The modern age is said to be characterized by secularism. Secularism in com— mon terminology means "thinking and acting as if God does not exist." This poem is a mild protest against this form of existence. Throughout the poem there is a feeling of Something more than man's power. Something is holding and Sup— porting this lonely figure that we seen in the poem. The first four lines of the poem present a nice picture that many a modern newspaper would like for the human—interest, tear-jerking story that gets people aroused about declaring certain places of nature off—limits for children. These lines could picture a small child who has wandered off from his home and is now found hanging timorously just over the edge ofa precipice on a deep canyon wall. The time is night and all hope for finding the child that day has been given up. Only the parents remain looking, tearfully searching for the lost. But from the small child's view there is a power that holds him and will not let him fall from such a precarious perch. But using this image as being the entire class of men, we come to the real meaning of the poem. Man is hanging by his "shirt—tail/ on a branch jutting/ Out from a cliff—wall." Man is just hanging, with nothingness around him, These four lines give us a very defected picture of man which is brought to its fullest heights in the fourth line. “While night is shutting in," and soon it will be too late. Then the hope comes in the fifth line and continues to the end of the poem. Realizing that this suspension would be impossible without some sort of divine, power that is from a higher source, the protagonist questions his own attitude of denying the fact that a God does exist. The “fourth dimension” here is obviously faith. faith in a God that does exist and a God who is holding man from complete destruction by not letting him fall into the chasm from off the cliff—wall. 13 Show less
SEPARATION It was a gray summer day. Somehow it didn't seem any different from any other day. The house was the same, logs with cement squeezed out in hard lumps be- tWeen them, like Abraham Lincoln’s house, I thought. They were all the same: the old barn, with the long slanting roof on one side,... Show moreSEPARATION It was a gray summer day. Somehow it didn't seem any different from any other day. The house was the same, logs with cement squeezed out in hard lumps be- tWeen them, like Abraham Lincoln’s house, I thought. They were all the same: the old barn, with the long slanting roof on one side, and where it ended the chicken coop roof slanting on down almost to the ground; the orchard—-21 few apple trees——but our "orchard",'behind the barn the woods way off in the dis— tance that I had never been in because Mom was afraid I would get lost; and over to the left of the barn the deep well that didn't have any water in it, and where there were snakes, and maybe other things down in its darkness; and beyond the well the fields that burned one night, and Dad had such a hard time stopping it, and it melted the snow and burned down a tree. I looked over the winding two—rutted road in front of the house that led out through the field to the dirt road that led to town. Every day Dad went down that road driving into town, off somewhere, to do something, it’s a big place where there are a lot of things to see. And one day Sid went down that road and got lost in the woods across the way. And Mom thought she would never find him. As I looked I hoped I would not see Dad coming. And I thought, "He must not come now, not today, maybe tomorrowutomorrow he can come anytime." Againl looked as far as I could see down the road, afraid I would see his blue car with the crooked bumpers. Mom was telling a man where to put the furniture and things she wanted to take along, I thought. I hated to leave the cellar behind, and the attic. And I thought how I would never find the little car that I lost in the or- chard, because the orchard wouldn’t be around anymore. But Mom didn't seem to mind, and then I didn’t either. Show less
Then let us pray that come it may As come it will for a’ that, That sense and worth, o’er a' the earth, Mav bear the prize, an' a’ that. For a’ that, an' a’ that, It's coming yet, for a' that, That man to man, the warld o'er, Shall brothers be for a‘ that. —— Robert Burns 19
Where does a poem come from? God or Pedition or Fantasy? No, whatever is in the pitcher is what must pour out. There is a difference between water and wine, however. "UGSBERG (1013.575 ARCHEVES 3 3
I Saw God in the Mountains i saw God in the mountains and He was painted in hues of glad birds singing brooks sparkling blossoms smiling i saw God in the mountains and He was painted in hues of good trails winding trees whispering Thickets wandering i saw God in the mountains and He was painted... Show moreI Saw God in the Mountains i saw God in the mountains and He was painted in hues of glad birds singing brooks sparkling blossoms smiling i saw God in the mountains and He was painted in hues of good trails winding trees whispering Thickets wandering i saw God in the mountains and He was painted in hues of grand peaks thrusting pines tOWering passes tunneling. i saw God in the mountains. The Place Called Due Melancholy at times, but more than this, sad, as the bluest wine bottle that decorates one of its many shelves. Still happy, for within its boundaries no mood is king, a melting pot of emotions, and this is the place called Due. On the outside, it is a weathered old mansion from the prohibition era, lavishly decorated with the proceeds of a basement still. The green undraped figure of a girl, shooting water from her mouth, stands guard at the entrance. Pinched be— tween the flashing neon of Chicago's near north side, it remains isolated with a simple rusting iron fence enclosing the square. What inhabits the upper portion of the structure, continues an enigma, for the steps to the Due lead down. A long girl, with long back hair, stretched tight to a knot in the back, a long black dress, body hugging. directs the patrons to a table and they sit. There is no incandescence, only candles, aided by the glowing embers of various forms of tobacco. Empty wine bottles serve the support to the wax cylinders, one on every table. And there are people, artists, poets, actors, students, and spectators. Some sit in little cliques, clacking over the strokes of Goya and Matisse, cooling their debate with occasional sips ofwine. Others sit quietly, interrupting their thoughts with a sampling of food and a nervous scribble of their pen on a soiled napkin. Some, with elbows growing out of the table, and heads resting in cupped hands, gaze into the eyes of another in like position, seated opposite them. Some just watch. While the flickering shadows play their tricks, time stops. at the place called Due. ll Show less
I TEIVII/IOZ The house looked awful funny with some of the furniture gone. The two men I hadn't seen before :wueefmmg‘xmoimaxifiasiseeomamfim bud been digging in when he walked in his sleep one night. But the funny shaped couch and the clock that told Mom when to do'fnhiflgsnmzaydd... Show moreI TEIVII/IOZ The house looked awful funny with some of the furniture gone. The two men I hadn't seen before :wueefmmg‘xmoimaxifiasiseeomamfim bud been digging in when he walked in his sleep one night. But the funny shaped couch and the clock that told Mom when to do'fnhiflgsnmzaydd whbrkithmmefleedcééw one of the cats sliding over the window and I shivered when I thought how mad [)ad would be if he taught a Li“ inthexhousewand'hmghsd bhdlntmcwnw‘ailmlflaxcads to the barn be- fore he got home at night. And in the barn was "boss" and I wondered who would take care of her tomOm‘ow andffieedxheomdr, mflkohgmiltlmhght of the grain bin and the stories of kids who died after sinking out of sight into the grain. And I thought of the corner-.wherefwe‘finel1y founflrthefrkitttinsgthatsode cat had hidden. Up in the havloft was the nail that Sid fell on when he came running to the house bleeding, and Mom L'an'down thetroad-tO'getIadocmret/lmd/mém to the barn was the dirty (hit ken COop with all the noise and the air hard to breathe. m :‘ ~ ' “I: '- r «7 ‘11-} flu" But the Chickens weren't anv different that summer dav. Thev Went right on pecking and-:holdd-th-heix heads up.and clucking. But something was different. livervthing looked the same, but everything seemed different. The barn. the house, the rain barrel; emerymiagxfeledifierent. And sudderllv time seemed so short, and each movement like it was the last. And then it was the last and the truck bumped and growled-downvthe‘ road-like indidnTt care'a't all. u,‘ Jen-4m Show less
that this was once a liVe, a breathing. a thinking, a feeling, a loving. a hating human being?" He looked like a bearded, wild—eved Bols‘hevik as he gesticulated widlv with his hands while screaming at the red fated man. Several men had bowed their heads in embarrassment during this stirring... Show morethat this was once a liVe, a breathing. a thinking, a feeling, a loving. a hating human being?" He looked like a bearded, wild—eved Bols‘hevik as he gesticulated widlv with his hands while screaming at the red fated man. Several men had bowed their heads in embarrassment during this stirring soliloquv in defense of human dignity. "He'q right," I thought, "man is more than just a bag of bones. He's more than just a piece of meat." Mr. Turnquist continued in a softer tone, his voice cracking at times, “This boy was once someone's son, someonc's brother. someone's lover or husband. He is now dead, but vou should respect him in death as you should have in life, as a man.” He turned and picked up his stretcher handle. We continued the rest of the way down the mountain. As We approached the road leading to the mountain we saw three ambulances waiting. Thev Were "crackerbox” ambulances, big, square bodied, with vivid red crosses on the sides, top and rear. AS we laid the stretchers down, a clean shaven youth dressed in clean dun- garees came toward us. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth.I could see by his insigne that he was a Navy medical corps'man. "All right,” he said, "just pile 'em in the meat wagon." 22 Show less
Sometimes I get tired Sometimes I get tired—— Like now. Sometimes I wish I Could empty my Soul Of all the musty-dusty—rot That’s in it And really live. Sometimes I do. But 1 don’t remember how—- Now. The Cardplayer Ashes fell as he took several vigorous puffs on his cigaret and let it hang limp... Show moreSometimes I get tired Sometimes I get tired—— Like now. Sometimes I wish I Could empty my Soul Of all the musty-dusty—rot That’s in it And really live. Sometimes I do. But 1 don’t remember how—- Now. The Cardplayer Ashes fell as he took several vigorous puffs on his cigaret and let it hang limp on his lip. With nervous deliberation he slammed down the jack of spades, pounded the table with his fist at the same time. He shifted from side to side, suspiciously eyeing his opponents. Then his glinting eyes focused sternly on his partner as he spat words of prompting and coaching. As his partner’s card fell he stiffened, his eyes nervously oscillating from one opponent to the other, his face expressionless and waiting. Then, before the last card could settle, his face broke open with a grin and he shrieked. As he laughed he breathed a heavy sigh and mopped his brow with the back of his hand in a gesture of relief. Then possessively be swept the skewered pile of cards toward himself. 16 Show less
A PIECE OF MEAT s 1" entered the bunker, stooping low. The"squd" that followed told had straightened up The last time that I had heard that. “squd” was rmelon fell off a truc ack home. ,; ie nant Turn . i\l.C.," I thought to myself, "the man who - " nter ' bunker \ his head against the ceiling."... Show moreA PIECE OF MEAT s 1" entered the bunker, stooping low. The"squd" that followed told had straightened up The last time that I had heard that. “squd” was rmelon fell off a truc ack home. ,; ie nant Turn . i\l.C.," I thought to myself, "the man who - " nter ' bunker \ his head against the ceiling." I looked up in time to ' . his head. "I avavs do that," he said. “The ceiling’s alwa w,‘ _ I _ "Are you all right 1 61}? hé’ asked. 'g his time it "Yes, sir,” I replied, “How many came 7 "Headquarters reported about three hun ed artillery a ‘ hundred and fifty mortar shells in the hour and a half. That' e worse we've e - stretcher which I used to sleep on. Mr r 'rnquist now seated hims_-wearilv on the stretcher. He stretched his feet Wget them as close as possible ‘3 which glowed a warm and cherry red invitation, He hunched the upper .» _ back and his head agajrfsghe diggiwall. But most of his weight was on his : After a few minutes htggoy t'li’uJook on his face. It was a sad look, i e that Lincoln had' when carnvingilthélimefihgpf the Union on his shoulders. I hanseen this look before on hfs’face anticlinfiwwh‘at‘vvas coming next. In order to stallqiit egg} asked, "1‘ avevacumof coffee?" "Sure," he answe‘regfijpifikly. I made?!) “ligfiwof rummaging through a card; board box looking" for sefiié’ifiofigderedvgfiffe ’ I found these too soon and. then beganfigfé curse mys 'fggfor‘khaving I‘éfigl m «3‘ of water-on the stove" which w ““Ktill hot. In a minu'teséhe had his large-We =1 7 - _ curled around a hot cup offioffee. He slurped his coffé’e);_for_ a momefi'fitbe “mgr dflpeared. It was replaqééa with a look of contentment. Hfifegaeasppeneda‘fi‘tl‘wg and his lower lip [game back‘ftojits normal position. "3 "“* ‘a a secgngl‘,l.t§pught, “Good to the las drop." Then I thoag :D'He “3:5 as cofitented afi‘, 3% ylixéishire cat. I wonder if hJe’; , ugggg; ,VBut onlv [‘1’ Vent. J—le quiclekyire~ "(’ggf'ne‘d his solemn countenance. .33» 'flvselfflaf'figs to}? come. ; $1; a 'figsi'de him on the stretché'r, - kfilthy-feet and; gan saga-rat me fMdIl’Cq This timéax, am a littiléi‘di'ffetgé‘igfifiifhan. minpte. When he‘spoke‘lh’fs words weré’slow fimeasured. s5 Hézasked, "Have you ever read Aloo'r‘E’s'tflopia?" 5’... "Np, sir, I never even heard of it." ‘A‘t-a, “Dan-z; you know what it’s about?" “No."s1-J;.” “Let me‘putzit this way," he started. "Are you a Christian?" “I think so,"2 :I'answged." “Good. Then vou ‘rfi‘u t; ' ' Highs; there is something wrong with all this killing. Certainly you can’t blame ‘afimgggg. I’ll tell you whose We ' It’s man’s fault. Do you know that thirty menimggs afternoon T ’_ menl By this time his voice had reached a itch that ends: lfiiig‘a'shrieking crescendo “Take: it easv;'fsir,’:7'; I. implored 1 00d get excl over it.".7s. * "a . .‘ 7 a a . .:;'25Excited.»1'_ he: \vail'ed. "Coffeela— : ; this?! fter ,‘n, screaming to Jesus and their mothers t r it h efihnk— ing coffee.".'n. ‘ a. .3 .: - _- s ':«. . h v 4 ‘ He begansa furiousefI-ortto’cbntrol his = ‘ Slo ‘ he bega " again. “Loo‘K, yowk’nowlthis is wrongilylen haue'got to stop 5 uing m , 1 "Susne,”el*agreedg:“butfirsmlou have to figure‘oap y deli "You're wrong," he said. “It's deeper than that. It' erns ' an’s whole re- lationship to his ‘fellow man. It’s not justa matter of killing. It seems to me, and it must to you, if you are a Christian, that man is by nature greedy. He'll get all he can out of his neighbor by book or by crook. Eeven if he has enough, he's got slurp my k ~ 4‘ ' -. al. He “It won't do 2O Show less
An Awakening Betwixt the Memes sweeping by ' Containing thoughts that naught conformed, I stood and caught the prudish cry Which echo'd from the few who mourned. "Away! Your slanderous words stray far From wisdoms whence weld dare not wean. Who're you to doubt tradition's par; To break the crutch... Show moreAn Awakening Betwixt the Memes sweeping by ' Containing thoughts that naught conformed, I stood and caught the prudish cry Which echo'd from the few who mourned. "Away! Your slanderous words stray far From wisdoms whence weld dare not wean. Who're you to doubt tradition's par; To break the crutch on which we lean. Your gall indeed becomes a stench. Your thoughts but thorns to irritate. What right have you to discontent And doubt the popes who daninate?" And yet while zephyrs turned to gales I did not shriek and turn in flight. For save one man each being fails, There's none on earth to judge who's right. Richard Husfloen Show less
MISSHOCK In the first grade. everybody loved Miss lauch. The second graders didn't like ' her, and the fourth and fifth graders crossed the street so they wouldn't have to meet her because they said she always acted like they were babies. But every— body in the first grade loved her. (When kids... Show moreMISSHOCK In the first grade. everybody loved Miss lauch. The second graders didn't like ' her, and the fourth and fifth graders crossed the street so they wouldn't have to meet her because they said she always acted like they were babies. But every— body in the first grade loved her. (When kids talked about her, especially first graders, her name got pushed together so that it came out "Misshock." "Misshock" was wonderful. She played the piano and when she hit a wrong note she just went on as though nothing had happened. She always wore a bracelet and she kept her hankie stuck under the bracelet so that it would be handy, and she made all the first graders sit in nice straight rows with their hands folded and she knew lots of songs and stories. Every year, “Misshock” and the first graders gave a program for the school. Everybody was there, even the "high— schools". The "high—schools" were the big kids and "Misshock" never let us first graders leave the room when the classes were passing, because we Were so little and got in the "high—school’s" way. This year I was a first grader and lhad to be in the program. "Misshock" gave me two parts to learn because I was the best reader. Oneofthemwas about a dress and I had on a new pink dress that my mother made especially for me to wear when I said my poem. Another one was about a bonnet and I wore a bonnet that belonged to another girl. It was an old—fashioned bonnet and had a flower on it and it tied in a bow under my chin. When it was my turn to say my poem about my pretty new dress I got mixed up and put on the bonnet and when I tried to get it off, my fingers got mixed up and I couldn't get it off and the bow got to be a knot. l was afraid that "Misshock" would be mad because I couldn't get the bon— net off and I wouldn't go out on the stage , even though it was my turn and every- body was waiting. Finally "Misshock" came and told me to go out and say my poem and she didn’t say anything about the bonnet on my head when I was supposed to say the poem about my dress and so I~stopped trying to get it off and went out on the stage. The stage was big and when I looked out I saw all the grade kids and all the high schools and all the teachers and even some mothers and fathers. lwas scared for a while. Then I looked down and saw my pretty pink dress and re— membered my poem and I said it and curtsied like “Misshock” had showed me and went off the stage. Then after awhile I had to go out and say my other poem, the one about the bonnet. This time "Misshock" didn't have to tell me to go on the stage. Somebody else told me and I went out and this time I didn’t even look at the “high schools" and the grade kids and the teachers and the mothers and fathers. I just said my poem and went off the stage. After that, all the first graders sang a song about a house that had a spook in it and another song about George Washington and then we all marched off. the stage and that was fun. I still couldn't get the bonnet off, though, and we finally had to break the string that went. under my chin to get it off. But "Misshock" still didn't get mad. "Misshock" was wonderful. 12 ...é_.-.___.‘ _... __ ._._._.., , l Show less
only empty loneliness and unreality? From the corner of my eye I could see her husband's lips moving, as if in prayer. What was he thinking now? was he sorry, now it was too late? And what did I really know about their life together; how could I judge? How could I help but pity him now he had... Show moreonly empty loneliness and unreality? From the corner of my eye I could see her husband's lips moving, as if in prayer. What was he thinking now? was he sorry, now it was too late? And what did I really know about their life together; how could I judge? How could I help but pity him now he had lost her? Again I saw the glitter, the sparkle as of a thousand myriad flashing lights. Sapphire and silver, ruby and gold, in the dim darkness. And my pity was swallowed up in bitterness. There I stood, wretched and dirty, with thrice- mended boots and patched coat. I was less than human. Hunger gnawed at my stomach and I shuddered, thinking of the night to come. I was fit only to mingle with the stale odors of the dead, with the bones of forgotten men and the ghosts of those now long departed. I shared the long nights with the smell of cattle--with the memories of the past and the thoughts of tomorrow. But I would know where she lay buried. I would dig her grave and lower her softly into it. She had been the star by which we set our sights, the sun which illuminated our day. She had been good; she had been kind. She had spoken to my little children out on the village street. She had given them shoes for their bare feet. And when they, so young, yet too weary and not strong enough to struggle, when they died, she wept--she wept tears of pity. In desperation, I would have followed my loved ones to the grave, but she looked on me in pity, and I remained alive. Yes, I remained alive, and she lay there, dead. She was no longer human. She was a dead body, like the dead bodies of the others I had buried who lay rotting and withering in the damp ground. I would know where she lay. I would not bury her deeply. The ground would eager her coffin lightly. 1 Show less
"You came, Mama Lubil" “I came," she said. Then Benteke appeared in the archway from the adjoining room, held out a trembling hard to Mama Lubi, draw out one of the cushioned chairs and invited her to be seated. Through the open windows wafted in the waves of wailing, some loud and almost angry,... Show more"You came, Mama Lubil" “I came," she said. Then Benteke appeared in the archway from the adjoining room, held out a trembling hard to Mama Lubi, draw out one of the cushioned chairs and invited her to be seated. Through the open windows wafted in the waves of wailing, some loud and almost angry, others more suppressed. The monotonous drumming could be heard aecaapnnied by the thunping of bodies flinging themselves to the grmmd,... And Mama Lubi could readily visualize the dust sifting through leathery fingers onto greasy heads and bodies-~others being smeared with palm oil thickened with camwood powder, and still others being smeared with white line. Mama Lubi looked at the little body, the little girl who just a week before had cane skipping into the olassroan with her writing pad under her arm. A white muslin bormet trimmed with lace framed the ashen face and matched the lovely long dress she was wearing. Only her pink—soled feet could be seen beneath the dress. In her hands lay the Testa- ment she had only begun to read. Many more werefithe Verses which had been hidden in her memory. Benteke's face was clasped in his hands, and hot tears were Mg through his fingers. Katalina‘s shoulders shook as she found release through her sobs. Mama Lubi opened the Bible, and seeking out pass- ages of comfort read them to the bereaved parents. She tried to give them words of encouragement and together they prayed. I The wailing outside continued. Benteke picked up his heavy body and lumbered to the doorway to still ,the crowds. With a rush they came on him, and Katalina's mother, as their spokesman, said: "It is sufficient for you to build an altar to the spirits._ Only six moons have passed since the 8 Show less
dirty work?" She could have saved her breath for all the good it did her to complain. Midville made the basket and Susie stayed in the game. I was watching the game more closely after that last foul. Susie was trying every mean trick in her book to get her guard to foul. She pushed, crowded,... Show moredirty work?" She could have saved her breath for all the good it did her to complain. Midville made the basket and Susie stayed in the game. I was watching the game more closely after that last foul. Susie was trying every mean trick in her book to get her guard to foul. She pushed, crowded, blocked, said horrible things, kneed her, and scratched with that mean hard glint of hatred in her eyes, but No. five Just kept on playing. That girl was getting out of those situations like the old night crawler again—~faster than fast and silently too. No. five pushed too--and used her knees and wrapped her legs around Susie, but I could see no hatred in her eyes. * * * Wheee--‘Ho.“eleven Cushingham charged No. five Midville." Susie came out of the game and sat next to me. "I hate that gir1--she plays so rottenly..." Thu-rumpu thu-rump-thu-rump. Betty Johnson Benteke's Daughter The gravel crunched and scattered as the wheels of Yoane's bike came to an abrupt halt. Yoane drew the bike in front of a palm tree, let it drop against it for support, then ran up the walk to Mama Lubi's house. Just briefly did he glance at the beautiful flowers which bordered the walk and perhaps took note of the difference between the missionary's dwelling and his own humble hut. waiting just long enough to catch his breath, he coughed once. It saunad no one heard him, so mustering up a greatergintake of air he coughed more loudly-- twice. Then there were footsteps and presently the door swung open. Mademoiselle Lubi smiled at Yoane and said, "Mbote, Yoane! Itsis what that I can do for Show less