THE DIAL 21 that characterized by those big brown spots called freckles. One dark rainy day, the type of day which makes people feel blue and lonesome, I was visiting at the home of a friend. There I met a middle-aged man who under- stood youth exceptionally well. The first subject of our... Show moreTHE DIAL 21 that characterized by those big brown spots called freckles. One dark rainy day, the type of day which makes people feel blue and lonesome, I was visiting at the home of a friend. There I met a middle-aged man who under- stood youth exceptionally well. The first subject of our conversation was my red hair. Immediately a disap- pointed expression came upon my face. It was a simple thing for me to don such a facial expression, because I had made a practice of looking disappointed when any- one mentioned my hair. He regretted his indiscreetness and tried to cheer me up by telling how he liked red hair and what nice people red-heads usually were. I looked at him with a hazy and doubtful look, but in my heart I was agreeing with him whole-heartedly. KENNETH LEE SCHMIT, ’38. North Hall . . . Funny how a fellow came to love the place. To begin with, it had seemed to be nothing but a dilapidated, huge wooden box with little pigeonholes for rooms. Now one of those pigeonholes had become his home. His books were there, in the curious home-made bookcases; his fa- vorite pictures were on the walls—over his desk, the awe- inspiring picture of Christ in Gethsemane; his clothes hung in the tiny closet, hid from the room by a brightly colored curtain; and in his trouser pocket was a key— the key to his mansion. Not that he would ever be able to call North Hall beautiful. The dormitory must have been painted ages ago, for successive layers of dust and smoke had changed the original white into a hideous brown color. Nor did the six old-fashioned chimneys add to the appearance of the building. Roger smiled to himself as he thought of the time when every room had an iron stove, and the Show less
THE DIAL 27 small mountains, but the White crests are no longer easily discernible. Near at hand the sea leaps high, but nothing in his own vicinity concerns him. Peter’s think- ing is in that distance. Being on the aft deck, he now views the ship’s wake, the far-removed waves, and be- yond, the... Show moreTHE DIAL 27 small mountains, but the White crests are no longer easily discernible. Near at hand the sea leaps high, but nothing in his own vicinity concerns him. Peter’s think- ing is in that distance. Being on the aft deck, he now views the ship’s wake, the far-removed waves, and be- yond, the still farther-removed past of Platonia. Yet the past and Platonia are very near this after- noon. For Peter is re-living the years at his Alma Mater. “What busy days they were! Work, work, work. I can still see those restaurants, those paper routes, that student provision store, the employment office. Was it .all worth the effort? What did I benefit by it? . . . Hm. . . . Did it make me too concerned about my own rights? . . . Did it make me determined to reach my goal too re— gardless of how much I pressed my own cause? . . . Did it lead to my jumping from one thing to another till I became a ‘scatter—brain’; and did that tendency invade my intellectual realm, that of study and thought? . . . Ach! “But why be a pessimist? All that work certainly gave me self-confidence, and put me on my own feet. . . . It certainly stimulated me to a more thorough self-evalu- ation. . . . And What about the inculcated desire to see a thing well done, to say nothing of the opportunity to meet the business world and its character! . . . Those were vigorous days, anyway! . . . Like this young gale! “I wish Professor Burt were here now. There’s a man with refinement and scholarship. . . . The whole crowd of them is likeable now that I see them in the distance. How different and individual they were! One of them y—he’s just as vivid as a star—those principles of free- dom and truth. . . . Another—reverence for things that .last and are beautiful. . . . . Funny how they come to mind so distinctly! . . . There he is—thoroughness, and :scientific spirit merged with spirituality. . . . And—ques- tions, piercing ones, dissatisfaction with easy conclusions. . . . Yes, and this one: open-mindedness, brilliance, con- cern for the individual, spiritual living. . . . But how about Show less
Clara’s Christmas Piece Tick-tock! Tick-took! The large clock on the corner shelf slowly ticked away the moments. Little Clara danced about from room to room trying to make the time go more quickly. Perhaps time never does pass as slowly as it does when one is very small, and it is but a short... Show moreClara’s Christmas Piece Tick-tock! Tick-took! The large clock on the corner shelf slowly ticked away the moments. Little Clara danced about from room to room trying to make the time go more quickly. Perhaps time never does pass as slowly as it does when one is very small, and it is but a short while before the Christmas program at which one is going to “speak a piece” like the big boys and girls. Clara had practised and practised her piece for weeks, until she was able to say it without stumbling the least little bit. Every evening right after supper she had stood in a corner of the large living-room and repeated her Christmas story. Mother and father had sat in the farthest corner of the kitchen and listened. Clara could still remember how tired she had been as she practised speaking “loudly and clearly.” Clara could scarcely stand still while her mother dressed her. She looked at herself in the mirror and smoothed the folds of her new red dress. Her new slip- pers shone like black glass and the curls which had made her so uncomfortable during the night were very pretty now as she carefully tossed her head. Clara wanted to look nice when she gave her piece. After Mother had bundled her up in her wraps and Father had carried her out to the waiting sleigh and tucked her in among the robes in the bottom, Clara felt very, very happy, for at last she was on her way to the program. As the prancing horses drew the sleigh swift- ly over the snow, the sleigh-bells tinkled clearly in the cold and frosty air. Clara liked to listen to their merry tune. She soon heard another set of bells on the road ahead. That probably was Alice and her folks going to the program. Clara wished the horses would hurry so that she could get to the church and see Alice’s new dress. Show less
Platonia Once upon a time there was a little boy who went to college. He arrived early for football camp; fought hard, and believed, when allowed to play through the first game of the season, that he had “attained.” This Peter was a credulous, enthu- siastic Nordic. Ambition was to him the... Show morePlatonia Once upon a time there was a little boy who went to college. He arrived early for football camp; fought hard, and believed, when allowed to play through the first game of the season, that he had “attained.” This Peter was a credulous, enthu- siastic Nordic. Ambition was to him the atmosphere. It gave zest to life. Though he would have been embarrassed by admitting it, he had his mind set on nothing less than the managing of a large chain of progressive drug stores, or the en- gineering and direction of some great chemical plant; yes, he would even like to become President of the United States. Down deep in his makeup there seemed to be something crying out for expression. Ambition had always been vital to him. After a Sun- day at church he would, as a mere babe, idle away his time chanting like the preacher, and seeing visions of himself in the pulpit. Later, when Peter’s parents moved into town, Candy Kitchens, Hardware Stores, Grocery Stores, and Pharmacies stimulated his imagination. In the world of fancy he was clerk, delivery boy, and man— ager many times over. When thirteen years old, he bought his confirmation suit with money he had earned by actual work, mowing lawns for bankers and others. He also had a cow named “Star,” a pal that he called his own and almost loved. One activity led to another, so when he left home for college he left also the position of clerk in the local drug-store. 3" * * The college year progressed at Platonia. Peter played football, worked for his board and studied mathematics, chemistry, and composition. Studying lasted till one, two, and sometimes three in the morning. Especially Show less
Henrik Ibsen’ “Munich is a very pleasant place to live in,” is the verdict of Henrik Ibsen, and he is unquestionably right. Berlin is also a fine city. But take away its zoological garden and its victory column, and Munich eclipses it in nearly every other respect. Its streets, monuments, public... Show moreHenrik Ibsen’ “Munich is a very pleasant place to live in,” is the verdict of Henrik Ibsen, and he is unquestionably right. Berlin is also a fine city. But take away its zoological garden and its victory column, and Munich eclipses it in nearly every other respect. Its streets, monuments, public squares, churches, museums, theatres, pleasure grounds, palaces, art galleries and a thousand and one other means of education, refinement and luxury, justly make it the pride not only of Bavaria but of the entire southern half of Teutondom. Therefore no one needs be surprised that Henrik Ibsen has chosen this city for a residence He has gone still further: within the city itself he has picked out one of the most centrally located buildings. His rooms are on the third floor of a corner building on Maximilian street. This street is in the heart of the city, and as it is about five times as wide as Washington avenue in Minneapolis, only certain parts of it are taken up by walks and drives. Between these are rows of trees interspersed with magnificent bronze statues of illustri- ous Germans of this century. On this street are also many of the chief public buildings of the city. It has been stated that Henrik Ibsen is rather curt towards reporters, autograph fiends, etc. I therefore felt rather uneasy when I yesterday knocked at his door at eleven a. m. sharp, his fixed reception hour. His Ger- man servant girl told me he was not at home and advised me to call again at two p. m. From past experience I was inclined to construe “not at home” into “he does not want to be bothered.” At two p. In. I knocked again and was told that he wanted to see me immediately. Upon entering his room I was met by a man of medium size, but of a strong physique. Every movement betrays a vigorous body knit together by a still more vigorous mind. And What a tremendous head! It seemed as if " Interviewed at his home in Munich by the North’s correspondent. Show less
20 THE DIAL of my life been so stubborn that I have had to sufler for it in numerous ways afterwards. Then after I get over the ill effects of it, I am still stubborn enough to go ahead and do the same foolish things, making it necessary for me to go through the same miserable experiences. Up... Show more20 THE DIAL of my life been so stubborn that I have had to sufler for it in numerous ways afterwards. Then after I get over the ill effects of it, I am still stubborn enough to go ahead and do the same foolish things, making it necessary for me to go through the same miserable experiences. Up until a short time ago I was so obstinate I would not admit that I was stubborn. I have found from ex- perience that this is in certain ways a harmful charac- teristic; but it may be exceedingly helpful, also. Many times I attempt to do something which proves to be diffi- cult and puzzling. I am sure if I were not stubborn I would start such questionable undertakings, but never finish them. It hurts me to have to drop anything I have begun, and I am disappointed in myself when I have to ask someone to help me solve problems with which I am confronted. Of course, it would be a wonderful thing for me if I could rid myself of the noxious in my stubborness and keep its beneficial elements, but try as I have, it is one problem I cannot solve. I am sure if I asked anyone for help with such problems he would be just as uncertain about the solution as I am. We often classify people according to their national- ity. Every group has many things in common. Nationals have many identical habits and are alike in a remarkable number of other ways. Whenever I think of the red- heads as a group I classify them into one nationality separate from any other. They are all somewhat alike, so I believe I am justified in thinking of them as belong- ing to a single nationality. They all have different per- sonalities and characteristics, but that is true also of the people in any national group. Red-heads share another possession, which I almost neglected to mention. They all have an exceptionally tender skin which causes them many troubles. During the hot summer days very few of them are seen out in the sun without shirts; because they have a skin that will sunburn a hundred times a year, but will never be- come tan. The only tan I have ever been able to get is Show less
Several days had passed since the celebration of Chanukah, the Hebrew feast of lights. It was a cheery, gener- ous season, and its kindly influence might still be observed in some of the most earnest followers of Moses and the most ardent admirers of the Macabees. It was such a man who on this... Show moreSeveral days had passed since the celebration of Chanukah, the Hebrew feast of lights. It was a cheery, gener- ous season, and its kindly influence might still be observed in some of the most earnest followers of Moses and the most ardent admirers of the Macabees. It was such a man who on this night was seen swinging joyously homeward along the roughly paved streets. His long, fringed robes proclaimed him a Pharisee; his free, manly stride showed him a vigorous, alert gentleman of high birth and up- right character. As he went, he sang an old Hebrew hymn of praise: Thou art mighty and glorious, Creator of Heaven; Who is like Thee? Thou art surrounded with majesty. Who is like Thee? Thou rememb'reth Thy covenant and art kind Who is like Thee? Thou forgivest sin, and art clothed in truth, Who is like Thee? Thou art most exalted, King of Kings: Who is like Thee? Redeemer, deliv’rer, Thou rulest in glory; Who is like Thee? Thou art nigh unto them who call upon Thee Who is like Thee? Thou dwellest in Heaven and supportest the just; Who is like Thee? Suddenly the glory of the music was hushed as the man met another young Rabbi. “Shilom,” was the ready greeting. “Shilom, Rabbi,” returned the other. - arams:smmmmmsmm Show less
14 THE DIAL briefcivilmatters. Buttheflfthcaseread: ‘Hia Majes- ty, the King‘Empei-or vs. Kalu Baskey.’ That would come up about two o’clock that afternoon." "When court reopened after noon two sirdim came leading the lad up to the dock. A chem brought the files of the casein from Court Number Four... Show more14 THE DIAL briefcivilmatters. Buttheflfthcaseread: ‘Hia Majes- ty, the King‘Empei-or vs. Kalu Baskey.’ That would come up about two o’clock that afternoon." "When court reopened after noon two sirdim came leading the lad up to the dock. A chem brought the files of the casein from Court Number Four. As I picked up the files, my hands became soiled with brown earth that stuck to the under side of the bottom file. I made a mental note to issue an order that files be kept in better condition.” Again the Commissioner paused to shake oi! ashes from his cigar. Then he continued, “Kalu had not been able to hire a lawyer to defend him. On the other hand. I saw that the prosecuting lawyer was being assisted by one of the local valcils, a hard fellow, concerning whom I had had previous occasion to know that he stopped at nothing to win his cases. Where there were no wit- nesses, he bought them; and how he had sometimes ob- tained confessions was a notorious matter around the courts. In his hands I knew that Kalu was in for a bad time.” “The court chaprassi announced that all were present, and the court was called to order. The prosecuting vala‘l arose and briefly outlined the case. It seemed that they were ready to prove that Kalu had killed his wife and disposed of the body by floating it down the river. It was in the rainy season, and the current was swift. No trace of the body had been found, but he would produce witnesses who had seen Kalu at the river in the dead of night. Furthermore, he would depend his case upon the signed confession of Kain, which, he added, was now in the court records. “I tried to open the files to find the confession, but was unable to separate the covers Without a sharp pull. As they opened, my desk became littered with wet, brown soil of the kind we just saw on that backstop pos ." He indicated the post where the mali had just been destroy- ing the white ants. “The prosecuting attorney was standing near me, Show less
10 THE DIAL And they stopped to converse a moment before con- tinuing on their way. “Do you know, Rabbi,” said the first, “there is one passagefromthescrolloftheProphetIsaiahthathu stayed by me longer than any other. I have often read it before and thought of it long, until now it rarely leaves me... Show more10 THE DIAL And they stopped to converse a moment before con- tinuing on their way. “Do you know, Rabbi,” said the first, “there is one passagefromthescrolloftheProphetIsaiahthathu stayed by me longer than any other. I have often read it before and thought of it long, until now it rarely leaves me." “Which one?” “This one: ‘Unto us a child is born; unto us a son is given, and His Name shall be called Wonderful, Coun- sellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace. The government shall be upon His shoulders, and of the increase of His government there shall be no end.’ " The Rabbi instantly replied, “It is no wonder that you should remember those words. They are full of hope and promise, and there are times when I feel that they are very near their fulfillment. But speaking of marvellous things, have you noticed anything strange in the Heavens? For two nights now a new star has appeared, seeming to move in the direction of Bethle- hem.” “Is that so unusual?” the other asked. “You forgot to mention that the star was one of the largest and brightest ever seen in our skies.” He stopped abruptly as if listening for some faint sound. “Hark! what was that?” “What? I heard nothing!” “I thought I heard strains of wondrous music from far away across the plains." Both men stood listening in rapt attention, for there was no longer any doubt of the sound which had stirred their interest. It seemed to them the most beautiful mu- sic they had ever heard. And as they listened, a heaven- ly radiance shone ’round about them, a benediction of glory. The Daystar had arisen. God had sent His light to lighten the Gentiles, and to be the glory of His people, Israel. ELISABETH THOMPSON, ’36. Show less
18 THE DIAL She knew it was blue because Alice had whispered that much to her in school the day before. It was hard for Clara to see anything over the top of the sleigh because of all her wraps; but by twisting her head in a certain direction she could see one bright little star twinkling in the... Show more18 THE DIAL She knew it was blue because Alice had whispered that much to her in school the day before. It was hard for Clara to see anything over the top of the sleigh because of all her wraps; but by twisting her head in a certain direction she could see one bright little star twinkling in the early evening sky. This made her think of her piece, and Jesus with His mother. Suddenly she sat up very straight. She couldn’t re- member the first line! Her heart stopped for a second; her throat felt dry; her head seemed tight. All at once, however, the familiar lines came back. Of course. she couldn’t forget those words which she had repeated so often. They had become almost a part of her. The church was reached at last. Many other teams were standing about in the churchyard. The horses were all covered up with blankets and were hitched to short posts. As Clara entered the door, she found Alice waiting for her. They hurried to the front of the church to take their places with the other boys and girls. Clara looked about her with eyes full of wonder and delight. At the front of the church stood the tall Christ- mas tree with its branches nearly touching the ceiling. At its top was a great big shiny star and around the foot were piled the gifts, big and little boxes. Across the front of the church were the glittering words: “Glory to God in the Highest . . .” “Why,” thought Clara, “that’s my piece. The words look just like those of the angel’s song turned to silver.” The program, the minister’s voice as he read the Christmas text about the shepherds and the angels, the songs and the exercises all entered Clara's little brain as whispers in a dream. When she heard her own name called and knew that it was time for her to give her little piece, she became cold and shaky all over. It seemed like such a long way from her seat to the platform. The church looked large and filled with strangers. Clara felt Show less
32 THE DIAL Laughing Boy. By Oliver LaFarge. Houghton Mifl’lin Company. 302 pages. 1929. This story about some Navajos is built around the theory that white civilization and religion have disturbed and destroyed native Indian happiness. There are a number of realistic touches which come close to... Show more32 THE DIAL Laughing Boy. By Oliver LaFarge. Houghton Mifl’lin Company. 302 pages. 1929. This story about some Navajos is built around the theory that white civilization and religion have disturbed and destroyed native Indian happiness. There are a number of realistic touches which come close to the truth of things among the Navajos as related to encroachment: of civilization, enough, perhaps, to justify the bestowal of the Pulitzer Prize upon this novel that year. How- ever, its proof of the old romantic theory of the good fortune of the “noble savage" is far from convincing. The story is interesting and well told. It centers in the tragedy of Laughing Boy’s unfortunate love~exper~ ience, unfortunate because of white influence and inter- ference. The method of entering the stream of conscious- ness of this Indian and seeing things from his point of view is largely used and managed well, so that much that is real in the life of the Navajos today becomes an in- tegral part of the life of the character. The style is po- etic and picturesque. Although valuable as an interpretation of certain phases of Indian life, including even some of the deeper and more serious tribal religious beliefs, one finds, in looking back and weighing the whole matter, that the sympathy of the author for these latter beliefs shades his interpretations with a very strong shadow of the old sentimental idea that savages are far happier if left alone with their own ancient racial beliefs and ideas of life. These are so much better for them than Christianity— a radically false religious conclusion. In spite of such a serious defect, this Pulitzer Prize story should be worth reading for values that are there concerning Indian life. Balance it with Cooper’s “Path- finder.” P. A. SVEEGGEN. Show less
26 THE DIAL though he soon had an appointment, he would try his hand at guessing and summarizing. “In the first place, I’m not yet far enough removed from it to know just what the trip did to me. Perhaps I never shall be, either. But a few impressions I know it did make on me. “I was made... Show more26 THE DIAL though he soon had an appointment, he would try his hand at guessing and summarizing. “In the first place, I’m not yet far enough removed from it to know just what the trip did to me. Perhaps I never shall be, either. But a few impressions I know it did make on me. “I was made startlingly aware of my being only a little bee in a great big hive. Yet I saw in a measure how I compare with the other bees and how we can make honey. “I never realized the world was so full of differences. And neither did I dream that it was so interrelated and unified. “I saw how habit enslaves men. Each in his group, he has gotten into a rut and there he often remains. So with nations and races. As their forefathers, so they live and think. Yet a radical leaven is trying at present to burst the enslaving crust. “I discovered that people are not going to change their opinions or lives because I argue that they ought to. But if I help them to find what they really seek or need. I may accomplish something.—I have a presentiment telling me I may not always abide by that discovery when the rebel in me rises. “And men! I used to be optimistic about them and consider them inherently good. But they are more sham than reality! “But I said I had an appointment. That reminds me—I wonder how I’ll ‘make out’ tonight. These stu- dents are a puzzling bunch. They seem to live in a dif- ferent realm than I do. In many respects we don’t see the same world: confusion would separate us. Oh well, that condition can’t continue; one or the other of us will weaken—But I’m late already.” * i 0 Out on a turbulent North Atlantic a ship is careening about, steadily ploughing toward Europe. On its upper deck in a reclining chair is Peter, his face to the breeze. He gazes ofl" into the horizon. Even there the waves are Show less
28 THE DIAL that good, grand-fatherly concern plus emphasis on scholarship and individuality? . . . “Whew! look at that whale spewing forth his ‘Old Faithful.’ Wouldn’t it be thrilling to shoot harpoons at those lubbers! “Talking about ‘spewing forth.’ I was almost wishing I could do that in a... Show more28 THE DIAL that good, grand-fatherly concern plus emphasis on scholarship and individuality? . . . “Whew! look at that whale spewing forth his ‘Old Faithful.’ Wouldn’t it be thrilling to shoot harpoons at those lubbers! “Talking about ‘spewing forth.’ I was almost wishing I could do that in a final and conclusive Way with some of those disappointments. unnecessary frustrations, cheap and idle talk, and unsolved problems that entered the life at Platonia. . . . Yet, I suppose that even the nega- tive is needed to help furnish content to life. . . . One can’t think about those things out here on this vigorous ocean, under that vast dome of shuttling blue. He's got to be strong and positive! “ ‘Well, Mr., what did Platonia deposit with you?’ If those inquisitive ladies at my table should ask me that question tonight, how would I answer? . . . Hm . . . Might not be amiss to think about that. . . . Did Platonia teach us how to think? . . . Maybe so. But what about? . . . ‘Whatsoever things are true, . . . honest, . . . just, . . . pure, . . . lovely, . . . of good report, if there by any virtue, . . any praise, think on these things.’ . . . It would be difficult to forget those words. . . . Platonia did believe that some things endure and have value. . . . And the foundation of those, she said, is Christ. . . . So that was Platonia! . . . Hm. . . . I guess I never thought that out very clearly before. “What was the counsel we received graduation night when President Page handed us those diplomas? . . . In Life the Highest Aim is Truth. . . . Truth, he has always maintained, will make one free. I believe we all seek liberation, at that. . . . But to get a glimpse of that truth is certainly an obstac1e~filled assignment. What was it termed by that friend of mine?—An excruciating as- signment! . . . But the perception of that truth in its complete form. . . . I Wish I were capable of that! Also, what should be said about putting that truth into prac- tice? . . . And then some people imagine they have noth— ing to do in life! Show less
THE DIAL 15 Editorially Speaking MONG the worthwhile books that repose upon our library shelves undisturbed ex- cept for the stackboy’s occasional visit in their vicinity We find Ernest Dimnet's “The Art of Thinking." I read this with delight during last summer’s enervating weather and found that... Show moreTHE DIAL 15 Editorially Speaking MONG the worthwhile books that repose upon our library shelves undisturbed ex- cept for the stackboy’s occasional visit in their vicinity We find Ernest Dimnet's “The Art of Thinking." I read this with delight during last summer’s enervating weather and found that the suffocating heat of a Minnesota sum- mer was not equal to separating me from its sparkling passages. I commend this book to all who are not only interested in cultivating that part of their lives which we call the in- tellectual, but who are also interested in prac- tical intellectuality. This book diagnoses the obstacles to thought, then offers a remedy, and finally, presents a discussion on “Crea- tive Thought”. It is not a treatise written for literary people, but a method by which high- principled men and women can strengthen their thinking capacity and broaden and deepen their influence. it t It This leads us to another thought. Can the college parasite think? One wonders at the ingenuity involved in escaping from the in- stitution's requirements and still maintain a rose-petal like innocence. Surely a lot of na- tive capacity and ability is misdirected! The doubt has arisen in my mind because as much labor is involved in getting out a task as in performing it. But we ought to pity the poor fools who spend four years and several thou- sands of their parents’ hard-earned dollars in becoming parasites. There is a close affinity between moral qualities and thinking capacity that we often refuse to acknowledge. Jesus stated a profound educational truth when He declared that Truth has the power to set the personality free. The parasite ’can think, but through choice he prefers rather not to, and the repitition of this choice, continued long enough, will render him incapable of thinking. ll! * i The “Jazz Era” is about over in the world. The stock market debacle in 1929 has had some very far-reaching disturbing effects upon so- ciety, but it did serve to bring us somewhat to our senses, and now we can look back upon that period with a shudder as we see how close we were to the abyss. The picture of 7,500.000 ‘ jobless men provides a dangerous background for bacchanalian feasts, for somehow we can- not get over the uncomfortable suspicion that we are our brother’s keeper. There is enough darkness in this night of depression to subdue the most blazing of our flaming youth. And it is on the dark nights that the lights of home bring most assurance to our hearts. * t :0! For nearly a year I have gazed at the back of Will Durant’s The Story of Philosophy and looked forward to the time when I could settle down peacefully in a comfortable chair, with- out any disturbing elements without or with- in, and establish an acquaintance with the thought of man. I often yearn for an educa- tional system that would allow one complete freedom in reading what one likes and still maintain a high standard of scholarship and mental discipline over us. There is always a struggle between that which is useful and that which is liberal, or enjoyable. For the useful bears fruit, and the enjoyable “accrues no- thing of consequence beyond the using." To read Durant now would be enjoyable—to read him later in a philosophy course would be use- ful—but not enjoyable, yet it would then be useful to have read him when he was enjoy- able—Oh, what’s the use! O O i “The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones”—so it shall no doubt be with the Dial. We hope that our readers will be merciful and overlook its many shortcomings and that some “good” it may contain may remain uninterred. “Interpretation” THREE men watched a sea gull fly. One noted with a practiced eye Its genus and its family And classified it instantly. The second thought; ’Tis like a soul That, soaring o’er life’s tossing sea, Rests not until it gains its goal The other shore—eternity. The third still keeps in memory A white bird wheeling gracefully Above dark waves that vainly try To reach the cloud-flecked azure sky. MAURICE HELLAND. Show less
You and I The you of you is what the I of me Sees in that soul-light of your eyes Which sometimes breaks through mist to seek its prize, 01' in a joy-clear pool of gladness lies. The you of you is what the I of me Feels in that pressure of your hand Which answers surely all my weak demand With... Show moreYou and I The you of you is what the I of me Sees in that soul-light of your eyes Which sometimes breaks through mist to seek its prize, 01' in a joy-clear pool of gladness lies. The you of you is what the I of me Feels in that pressure of your hand Which answers surely all my weak demand With words unspoken, for you understand. The you of you is what the I of me Hears in the loved tones of that voice Which, singing, speaks, and, speaking, sings those choice, Aureate words, that make my soul rejoice. The you of you is what the I of me Finds in that wonder of your face Which holds the tranquil light by which I trace The lowly beauty of your spirit’s grace. The you of you is what the I of me Knows in that beating of your heart Which makes my own with throbbing pulses start, For we are two, yet each of each is part. GRACE JENSEN, ’33. Show less
22 THE DIAL studentshadtochoptheirownwood. Hemreminded of Rolvaag’s grand phrase, "There were giants in the earth in those days.” the soap boxes; a row of mirrors of various shapes and dimensions; a worn strip of linoleum on the floor. That was all. And yet, what a pleasure it was to get down... Show more22 THE DIAL studentshadtochoptheirownwood. Hemreminded of Rolvaag’s grand phrase, "There were giants in the earth in those days.” the soap boxes; a row of mirrors of various shapes and dimensions; a worn strip of linoleum on the floor. That was all. And yet, what a pleasure it was to get down there in the morning and to talk lightly and jokingly with the rest of the fellows before beginning the day’s work. That was one of the things he liked best of all—-liv- ing with so many young men, associating with them, be- ing friendly with them. It was fun to have them come into one’s room to chat a while or to sing lustily while someone played the old, wheezy organ. What a grand feeling it was to be alone and independent, an equal among equals, a man among men. . . . Roger leaned back in his chair and looked out across the green campus. A sense of deep contentment swept over him as he watched the vast, fiery sun sink slowly behind the gables of West Hall. J OHN STENSVAAG, ’36. Despair. . . Gray dust of pain That burned itself to ashes, Thus. Pale remnant of A crimson hope that flashes Once, Like roseate fire, burning, yearning, Across life’s sky— To flame and die. GRACE JENSEN, ’33. Show less
