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Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 06
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: How a Freshman Keeps Humble RUTH Osmrws, ’34 NTERING college in the ranks of the freshman class, may have its compensa- tions, but it also has its drawbacks. I came to Augsburg with a desire to learn something, and a few things are now locked in the archives of my mind. There they shall remain...
Show moreHow a Freshman Keeps Humble RUTH Osmrws, ’34 NTERING college in the ranks of the freshman class, may have its compensa- tions, but it also has its drawbacks. I came to Augsburg with a desire to learn something, and a few things are now locked in the archives of my mind. There they shall remain till its walls crumble and de- cay. Freshman are poverbially supposed to make mistakes, but it is not necessary to make as many as I did. My brother and I were registering, when a gentleman walked up and cordially greeted us and inquired our names. My brother responded by asking him if he were one of the instructors. An interested listener hastened to tell us that we were addressing the president of the college. An introduction to him was not a bad way to start one’s educational career. Soon after this, I went to an English class, where the instructor informed us that we were to read some essays. He assigned for study, Montaigne’s “Of Friendship” and also mentioned some essays by Grace Jen- sen and Iver Olson, who, I imagined, must be some modern essay writers, of whom I had never heard. I had often been told that the best way to start out a new term was to study your lessons, at least, the ﬁrst few assignments. I was open to advice, so I pro- ceeded to the library, and asked for some essays by Grace Jensen, Montaigne, or Iver Olson; it did not make any difference to me. The assistant librarian seemed puzzled for a moment; then he laughed, and brought me the “Dial”. I still did not understand his unseemly mirth and hoped I would not have that effect on everyone. As I began to read, I discovered the “Dial” to be a college publication, and in it, I saw the names, Grace Jensen and Iver Olson, with “ ’33” inscribed beneath them. As comprehension broke through the cloud, I began to notice the tem- perature in the library. It seemed very warm and uncomfortable. I read the essays in suffocated silence, trying to concentrate on the subject matter in them, rather than to think of myself. Did all seniors have an ignominous past like mine would be? I pursued among other studies, Norwe- gian, and it was a breath-taking pursuit as far as I was concerned. Every time I at- tempted to answer a question or interpret a sentence, I could be depended upon to get the wrong meaning or roll the wrong let- ters around my tongue. Norse was the me- dium of my forefathers, but how they ever understood one another, baffled me. My in- structor was very patient and did not seem half as discouraged as I felt about my ever learning the language. Every day I became deeper and deeper en- tangled in an amazing amount of words which I neither understood nor could prd nounce correctly. The thought of an impend- ing mid-quarter examination ﬁlled me with dread. I studied the vocabulary, but the words just would not stick in my American mind. Then, those little articles before the words annoyed me. What diﬁerence did it make, anyway, whether one said “en” or “et”? Much against my earnest hopes and wishes, the mid-quarter examination arrived. I took a look at the questions and groaned inwardly, for I did not know the answers to any of them. Nevertheless, I answered every question, as I had heard that instruc-
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Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 15
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: THE DIAL 13 In those days I used to run away and pout, because my brothers would openly laugh at me. If anything is embarrassing, it is to be laughed at by one’s own brothers. I secretly hoped that they would be reprimanded. I still cherish a bit of resentment. They might at least have told me,...
Show moreTHE DIAL 13 In those days I used to run away and pout, because my brothers would openly laugh at me. If anything is embarrassing, it is to be laughed at by one’s own brothers. I secretly hoped that they would be reprimanded. I still cherish a bit of resentment. They might at least have told me, so that they could not torture me for the rest of my life. I was my father’s handy-man. When I trailed along, I would tell him all about my other father. When I helped him repair the fence, I told him that my other father would not let me steady the staples as he fastened them. Father would not let me either. He told me it would hurt my ﬁngers. It would not do to hurt my ﬁngers. I remarked that my other father had let me put them in place. Once he let me pound as he held the staple. Father laughed and looked at his hand. I wondered why he should do that. One of my favorite pastimes was playing with my father’s nose. My other father’s nose was crooked, because I had twisted it so much. I was glad my father’s nose was crooked, so that I could not make it worse than it was. My other father’s kisses tickled. I noticed later that the reason for this was his long beard. This beard had undoubtedly been the cause of many of his miserable moments. I had pulled it, twisted it, or braided it as I pleased. He must have been very patient. Father remarked once that he could never bear it. If he ever had a long beard, I should be careful about pulling it. My father had no beard. It was the lack of one that made me think I had two fathers. When mother told me that my father and my other father had always been the same per- son, I wept bitterly. I seemed to have lost a friend. I hoped for a long time that it was not true, but it was only too true. I have never had more than one father. ———<>———— A Self—Made Man Who Worship His Maker ERNEST G. ANDERSON, ’34 E have many species of self-made men, but one is outstanding: the man who is unable to forget his success. He is con- tinually lighting ﬁres at the shrine of his great god, HIMSELF, meanwhile chanting a litany of praise that is full of self-adora- tion. He never wearies of telling those un- fortunates who happen to be present when he performs his devotions how great a man he is, and how mightily he hath wrought. It becomes a passion with him that all men shall know that he is a self—made man, one who has reached the pinnacle without the help or favor of anyone. He appears to be obli-_ vious of any greater Power in the destinies of men as he speaks of his wisdom, com- mends his foresight, or applauds his master- strokes. He never fails to point out the ex- tent of his achievements nor to make invidi- ous comparisons with some lesser fortunate “So—and-So.” This, strangely enough, leads him to recount his acts of mercy, revealing the generosity of nature which prompted him to give a dime where a dollar was need- ed! There is such a remarkable mutual un- derstanding among his various parts that his right hand never fails to inform the left hand of what it has just done. This, of course, is a great and useful trait to a self- made man, for he can always be assured of full recognition for all he doeth. For ex- ample, he may have given to the poor out of his superﬂuity, and is thereby entitled to praise. If no one bespeaks this generous deed, it can be quickly made known by his
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Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 09
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: Scenes from Cathay GRACE JENSEN, ’33 HE dusty road winds onward toward the city, the walls of which rise dimly in the distance. On either side, the ﬁelds of poppy and of wheat stretch away toward the hills. A man with sandals, a plain two- pieced suit of cotton indigo, and a broad— brimmed straw...
Show moreScenes from Cathay GRACE JENSEN, ’33 HE dusty road winds onward toward the city, the walls of which rise dimly in the distance. On either side, the ﬁelds of poppy and of wheat stretch away toward the hills. A man with sandals, a plain two- pieced suit of cotton indigo, and a broad— brimmed straw hat pushes a barrow loaded with coal before him. Always luring him on is the protesting falsetto squeak of the large wheel, a wheel which has travelled noisily over many miles. If the wind were favor- able, a sail would be hoisted to aid him on his journey, but today he must stop occa- sionally to wipe the perspiratlon from his brow. The outline of the city wall has faded in the sudden darkness. There is no twilight to foreshadow the coming of the night. Crows which have been thieving in the ﬁelds all day, ﬂy over the city wall just before the gates are to be closed, as though afraid that they might be shut out. They gather in dark companies among the trees to caw the gossip of the day, or to ﬁght for a favorable position upon a favorite branch. When their quarrelling has ceased and the rustle of their wings proclaims repose, night has come down upon the city. ‘ In the yard our friend of the road is squatting with other travellers. A circle of them has gathered about the ﬂickering light of a vegetable oil lamp and are enjoying a meal together. A bowl of noodles, with some garlic and redpepper, enjoyed in good com- pany is the right of the wanderer. Lulled to rest by the munching of the mules, twenty or more of them may sleep together on a little straw upon the ground or in the stable. If there are no bandits in the district, they will be up at dawn to travel on upon the winding road, lured ever forward by the plaintive melody of the wheel—barrow. It is three o’clock in the morning. Already ﬁgures have begun to move in the half light. Two tired missionaries’ children who, it seems to them, have just fallen asleep, are urged to get up, for it is better to travel in the cool morning than during the heated noonday. Miraculously, mother has boiled and cooled the water for the day’s supply. Father has tied a large lunch basket to its position on the rear of a cart. The drivers have, with encouraging curses, backed the mules into their places. A crack of the whip over their ears and they are off. As always the road twists and turns be- tween the ﬁelds or leads into some village. Curious children gaze at the white strangers, laugh gleefully, and call after them, “Foreig- ners! Foreigners! Foreign devils!” The winding road was intended to cause the evil spirits to lose their way. * * * In the shade of a group of trees an awn- ing has been raised and benches arranged about a table. Here an old couple sells tea and soup to thirsty wayfarers. What is your honorable name? How old are you? Where do you come from? Where are you going? How many sons have you? Are your parents living? These questions are to be answered in the same courteous way in which they are asked. For a moment the j ingling of a bell attracts our attention to the road. Two mules approach, bearing between them a rough cofﬁn. Almost losing his balance as he sways with the motion of the beasts, an hypnotic-looking rooster is perch- ed sleepily upon this box. Within him the spirit of the departed is being carried to its resting place. The owner of the mules walks unconcernedly by their side, singing an ancient tune about his grandmother.
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Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 23
Collection: Literary Journals

Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 13
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: , .25; .35., THE DIAL 11 ner. Into the making of the ﬁrst, many sleep- less nights had entered, many trying mo- ments, overcome in patience, and through it all the warfare with self had to be unceas- ingly waged. Her sister stated that she had not had one sound night’s rest in four years, having...
Show more, .25; .35., THE DIAL 11 ner. Into the making of the ﬁrst, many sleep- less nights had entered, many trying mo- ments, overcome in patience, and through it all the warfare with self had to be unceas- ingly waged. Her sister stated that she had not had one sound night’s rest in four years, having always to be on the alert for her mother’s needs, night and day. If she were a remnant, it was not due to the quality of the article, for her character and her spirit must have been of the ﬁnest type to discharge so successfully a very dif- ﬁcult duty. She was a ministering spirit to one who needed her care, and who called for spiritual as well as physical help. It meant not only keeping the tired and weak body as comfortable as possible, but also con- soling an impatient and anxious soul. Mil- ton’s verse describes very ﬁtly such hidden lives: “They also serve who only stand and wait.” Such service means often a turning from the shining path of personal hopes and aspir— ations to the long, heavy road of care and worry. It meant exchanging beautiful dreams for a hopeless, exacting reality. But there is a recompense for a faithfulness that does not waver at the loss of personal hap- piness. Around the bedside of that frail mother hovered the spirit of One who looks deeper than our human wisdom and judg— ment can penetrate. Mingled with the thank- ful utterances of the mother for her daugh- ter’s care was the sound of His voice: “He that ﬁndeth his life shall lose it; and he that loseth his life for My sake shall ﬁnd it.” We should be thankful for occasional upsets as we trundle our little cart of prejudices through the world. Here is one that spills our narrow conceptions of human happi- ness, usefulness, and beauty of life uncom- promisingly into the dust—an unwanted woman discovered as an absolute necessity in some one’s life. MW, Wintry Winds AGNES M. FREIJ, ’32 (ZSHE dusk falls gray and mystic Around my cottage small. Deep shadows press through windows While night encircles all. The wind blows weird and threat’ning; The snow-flakes strike the panes. The sounds send icy shudders Creeping through my veins. And in this lonely night time Visitors grim and cold Come singing in the wind-storm With voices loud and bold. They come in through my windows To lurk in corners gray, To make my lone heart sadder, As ’round my house they stray. Strange sounds my soul make mournful I hear them o’er and o’er, All night the wind’s sad moaning Around my cottage door.
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Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 19
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: The Block BEATRICE HELLAND, ’31 S I sat studying one day I looked out the window and saw a score of co-eds coming out of East Hall, bound for the board- ing club. Would it not have seemed strange, I thought, to have seen such a group on the campus ﬁfteen years ago? In those days Augsburg was...
Show moreThe Block BEATRICE HELLAND, ’31 S I sat studying one day I looked out the window and saw a score of co-eds coming out of East Hall, bound for the board- ing club. Would it not have seemed strange, I thought, to have seen such a group on the campus ﬁfteen years ago? In those days Augsburg was strictly a gentleman’s insti- tution. Folks had not yet realized that there was something worth training beneath the feminine coiffures. West and East Halls were then “den gamle 0g den nye professorboliger.” The Nydahls, the Harbos, the Lilleheis, and the Hendrick- sons were among those who called Augsburg “home”. I do not know how well our parents liked this arrangement, but we, the younger generation, found it ideal. The students would perhaps have prefer- red the co-eds to the contingent of “P. K.’s” (professors’ kids), one or more of Whom seemed to be always under foot. They had, very likely, their deﬁnite ideas about us, but I wonder if they realized just how carefully they were being watched and judged by those campus “brats”. I still have a deep feeling of respect and admiration for a certain student who car- ried me home from church on his shoulder during a raging blizzard. I have fond me- mories of students who were “child-minded” enough to stop and turn the rope for us when we were engaged in that most fascinating of springtime activities, jumping rope. I have vague recollections of a more imaginative scholar who used to take me upon his knee and tell me wonderful stories of chocolate houses and mountains of ice cream. Even now as I go from room to room in West Hall, memories come crowding back. Here is where I fell down the long stairway and mother had to come and kiss the “hurt ;" here, the parlor where I used to sit and practice my piano lesson and watch the clock; there, the alcove where father always performed the mysterious rite of decorating the Christmas tree. Then there is the sidewalk behind the Main which is especially good for roller- skating; the entrance which makes such a grand fort for snowball ﬁghts; the old, spreading cottonwood tree which was always the goal for our favorite games of Run Sheep Run and Stillwater. Each time I walk down the Seventh Street driveway I think of it as the old slide down which we coasted, skiied, and rolled until we looked like an army of little snowmen come to life. I am afraid we did not appreciate the efforts of our more sensible elders who sprinkled sand on the driveway to make it more safe for pede— strians. Every morning we lagged through Mur- phy Square on our way to the Monroe school, but as soon as we were dismissed we came skipping back to “The Block”, for there all our interests lay. It was our world. Recollections of childhood scenes are al- ways attractive. Others may scoﬂ" at the drab appearance of our campus. They may think it inadequate and uninteresting, but, somehow, its shortcomings are hidden from our eyes. To us it is a place of beauty, for in every nook and cranny dwells a memory of the days when we lived and laughed to- gether on “The Block.”
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Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 04
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: 2 THE DIAL easily subdued were the most uncertain in the matter of a yield. I came to love certain portions for their faithfulness in respond- ing to our care, but for others I had a dis- trust: they accepted every care and atten- tion, but deceived us at harvest time. it t t # With this new...
Show more2 THE DIAL easily subdued were the most uncertain in the matter of a yield. I came to love certain portions for their faithfulness in respond- ing to our care, but for others I had a dis- trust: they accepted every care and atten- tion, but deceived us at harvest time. it t t # With this new contact and affection for the soil came strange thoughts and fancies, dim gropings after wispy solutions to the mysteries of life, which somehow seem united with the soil and our relations to it. What was this mighty indwelling force that could transform a black ﬁeld into a carpet of green almost over-night? What reposed un- derfoot, unfelt and unseen, yet able to send a frail crocus through the hard surface of the prairie? I began to sense something of the reality of God, not in deﬁnable terms or clear—cut experiences, but as the answer, someday to be vouchsafed, to all the per- plexing and mysterious questions of life. * * * O I noticed that the soil was also the cause of tremendous changes in human lives. It would arouse ambitions in men’s breasts un- til they seemed almost possessed in their urgency to become rich through the soil. It gave freely but exacted a tribute from these pitiful creatures that included every- thing from the loss of friendship with their own kind, to the loss of mental powers and life itself. I heard the story of Olle Skulstad. He lived alone on his big farm, except for an extra man at the busy seasons of the year. He would not spare his body or even stop to give it the food it needed. They told of the moldy bread dipped in black coffee, the hurried gulping of some cold, canned vege- table, and then his rush to be out in the ﬁeld again. He died alone from a blow given by his horses. 1! SI I! t The soil was often a handmaid of romance. Hopes, fond expectations, and plans were nourished upon its promise. Vows were made that could be kept only on condition of its fruitfulness. Men were eager to show the starry-eyed, yet clear-minded, woman of their choice what two strong arms and the soil could bring forth. The eternal round of replenishing the earth was kept going be- cause one hundred and sixty acres of rich soil held forth the key to the house of hap- piness for two trusting human beings. # i i t She was a woman who had sinned griev- ously, but she had also paid for her moment of pleasure with her life. Tongues wagged, heads nodded knowingly over gossipy cups, while whole boneyards of skeletons were locked up by these self-complacent souls as they hurled their cries of “Unclean! Un- clean!” at the lonely woman on her death- bed. But a kindlier friend awaited her when they cast her out, for the sheltering arms of mother earth accepted the poor, withered body without a murmur or re- proach. The words, “Dust thou art; to dust shalt thou return” fell upon our hearts like the shovels of earth upon the coffin; we had proved ourselves less than dust in sympathy, in forgiveness. * *‘ * II The young lady in the seat ahead tired of the card game. She raised the shade and looked out upon the prairie, now gray and mysterious under the evening shadows. “What a terrible place to live in!” she ex- claimed, “nothing but endless acres of bar- ren prairie. I pity the person that has to live here all his life.” “And yet there are men who make this desert bloom,” returned her partner. “What you think is dreadful is to them a paradise of wheat, cattle, and broad pastures.” “Yes, that may be all true, but no doubt these same farmers are just as stupid as the cows they milk, and as blind to the ﬁner things of life and culture as the dirt out
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Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 03
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: THE DIAL VOL. III DECEMBER, 1930 N0. 1 Soil ERNEST G. ANDERSON, ’34 S the fast transcontinental train swept westward into the prairie lands, and nearer home, I lost interest in my book and feasted my eyes upon the welcome and fa- miliar landscape, now fast graying under the approaching twilight....
Show moreTHE DIAL VOL. III DECEMBER, 1930 N0. 1 Soil ERNEST G. ANDERSON, ’34 S the fast transcontinental train swept westward into the prairie lands, and nearer home, I lost interest in my book and feasted my eyes upon the welcome and fa- miliar landscape, now fast graying under the approaching twilight. Two passengers in the seat ahead also glanced once or twice at this, to them, apparently new country; then pulling down the window shade with a shiver, one of them, a young lady, picked up a deck of cards and invited her companion to take part in our national indoor sport. I sank into a reverie. Was it all so fearful, this country of prairies, of rolling sun-kissed hills, of plains bursting with rich soils? I knew it did not matter what these strangers thought of my country, but why was it con- sidered so fearful that our lives should have the tang of the soil? The Soil! I was fas- cinated by a thought that our lives are moulded and affected by the inﬂuence of the soil. * a: a: a: I was conscious of it very early. It en- tered my life ﬁrst as a playmate, later as a taskmaster, and ﬁnally as a well-loved friend. There was nothing quite so satis- fying as soil when we sought our games. It served admirably as a medium of expression for our life in miniature, an imitation of all that we observed. In it caves were dug, dams were built, harbors deepened for our Armadas; and when Romulus and Remus altercated, it served as a weapon of offense and defense. During this time it was all rather impersonal; except for the discom- fort which accompanied periodic removal of particles which persisted in clinging to us. The soil had not as yet awakened any deﬁ- nite reaction within me. I remember, though, how pleasant the wagon tires sounded on the gritty road, and the thick, puffy clouds of dust which sprang up around the horses’ hoofs as they stepped along the loose track. * * * * Our stay in the make-believe world is short, and soon I had to take my part in reality’s sterner games, and my old play— mate left me. When we next met, it was as opponents in an ancient combat, man’s struggle with the soil—for his bread. It became my taskmaster, and how I chafed under the new-found yoke! How my body ached after a long day’s work in the dusty ﬁelds! The soil became insolent in its tyran- ny, placing stumbling-blocks to my weary feet in the form of large, hard lumps of clay. When evening came, I walked home with an air of defeat, depressed at the thought of a life-long struggle with the soil, of stumbling over chunks of earth. * It * * As I grew physically better ﬁtted to per- form the heavy farm work, almost unawares to me, a change took place in my attitude to- ward the soil. I learned to love it, and be- gan to perceive in a dim way that it re- sponded to love. It was anxious, I felt, to return our labor, our care, and our seed with an abundant harvest, if we would but be loving and honest in all our work. Not all the ﬁelds were equally valuable. The most
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Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 11
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: Character Sketches The Cynic GERALD SVEEGGEN, ’34 A cynic is a disillusioned idealist or an atheistic thinker who sees beneath the tinsel of his existence with its beckoning mirages and tantalizing desires into what he thinks is the root of life. He sees and thinks more clearly than does that...
Show moreCharacter Sketches The Cynic GERALD SVEEGGEN, ’34 A cynic is a disillusioned idealist or an atheistic thinker who sees beneath the tinsel of his existence with its beckoning mirages and tantalizing desires into what he thinks is the root of life. He sees and thinks more clearly than does that general class of people who live in a state of placidity, never bothering to probe beneath the surface of their systematized lives. He realizes that the everyday hopes and disappointments with which we are plagued are but natural sequences in the order of things, and that we are merely puppets on the ever shifting scenes of our lives. He sees that every being is endowed with a certain proportion of good and bad, and that our customs, our conventions, and our habits are only superﬁcial attributes which attempt to cover our naturally worldly minds with a false standard of perfection, and that only a few puppets are lifted above the milling masses of humanity. He laughs at the folly in his own life, at his feeble attempts to gain riches and glory, and at the same hopes in the lives of the people about him; and he looks down upon and sneers at his brothers who are pursuing ideas and hopes that they will never reach, for idealists are his favorite objects of ridi— cule. He knows that the happiness pursued by all will not come through satisfying his worldly desires or gathering riches. Such happiness is a snare set for those who do not realize that they are nothing but scintillating bubbles, which burst into nothingness at the touch of our groping, ever clutching hands. He feels no joy of living. He does not realize that, pitiful as it might seem to him, this brief period in the span of eternity is a path to a ﬁnal justice. All this he thinks, but the more he thinks, the more he realizes that, despite his callous attitude, he is pursuing the same vain hope of peace and happiness that he derides in his fellow men; but he cannot ﬁnd it, and so, in bitter desperation, he laughs. ————<¢a>>—-#— An Old Minister FRITJOF MONSETH, ’34 N old minister is the personiﬁcation of understanding and the incarnation of adaptability, a piece of humanity that can automatically ﬁt into any situation or envir- onment. He is interested in and acquainted with every profession and occupation in life. When he visits a farmer parishioner who is especially fond of horses, his liking becomes the same. He follows his friend to the stable and very ably discusses the merits and de- merits of a horse. He knows all the horses by name and walks along the alley to see if they are all in the barn. His host follows behind and very enthusiastically talks about his plan of trading off the old mare for a younger one. The minister suggests that he secure a mate to the blocky animal by the door. After a discussion of this nature, the
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Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 05
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: THE DIAL 3 there.” With this dictum she picked up a gaudily-covered magazine with its special number of “The Unfaithful Wife, or Love in Gangland”, and was soon absorbing Amer- ica’s culture, oblivious to the rest of the world. A huge moon arose, showering a cascade of silvery light upon the...
Show moreTHE DIAL 3 there.” With this dictum she picked up a gaudily-covered magazine with its special number of “The Unfaithful Wife, or Love in Gangland”, and was soon absorbing Amer- ica’s culture, oblivious to the rest of the world. A huge moon arose, showering a cascade of silvery light upon the plains. The wheels clicked a hurrying, eager tattoo to the roar of the speeding train. And outside, under the moonlight, was the soil, locked in the icy arms of winter. gas»;— Sonnets EINAR R. RYDEN, ’29 IV CZQHAT pain! Excruciating, endless pain! I have forgotten all, all, all but self; I have all virtue in my being slain; I strive but for the power of gold and pelf. How could I through my years of life be blind To usefulness, to fellowship, and love? I’ve been a parasite on humankind, Forgetting fellowman, and God above. And yet I live. Perhaps I can atone To some degree my selﬁsh, mad desire— I turn to Thee upon the heavenly throne And Thou in me a new life will inspire. My sins are great. Thy love is greater still, And I submit myself unto Thy will. V (Zé)HEN I my thoughts review in serious mind And think upon the days that used to be— Then, I was guided by a heart so kind That not the slightest harm could come to me. How often I did grieve that gentle heart And cause deep sorrow where but joy should reign. Yet in my childish cares she took my part, I would repent and be forgiven again. A mother’s level—fresh as each new-born day, Pure as the moonbeams in the darkest night— I would, in all I do, somewhat repay That love which serves in sadness and delight. So now I shall, that I might happy be, Return that love so freely given for me. VI HE constant progress of the modern mind Continues with its search to learn the laws Of all material things, to know the cause Through scientiﬁc skill, and thus to ﬁnd Life’s ﬁnal purpose; then, with life deﬁned In all its aspects, there need be no pause To contemplate—for, knowing, nothing awes. But can the facts be seen with soul stone-blind? We love and hate; we live and die; the chain Of sin still holds us fast as in the day When Faith’s own children tempted were to drain The cup of Love and thus, for self, betray Man unto Death. But Faith will yet sustain The one who can both Faith and Love obey.
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Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 01
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: u. 3, >74 «LC/>313”, “1.!” H, the many hours PUBLISHED BY THE LITERARY ORGANIZATIONS OF AUGSBURG COLLEGE MINNEAPOLIS, MINNESOTA

Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 22
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: 2"."99‘4 —g.;.-- 20 THE DIAL EDITORIAL STAFF MATHILDA SAGENG, Editor-in-Chief LITERARY EDITORS BUSINESS MANAGERS MANLEY GJERDE OTTO Ron'rvmrr OLETTA WALD CLIFFORD Sum-m (Gable of Gontents Soil ,,.,.,V.V.._,.,,_.,H____.,,__,_______.Ernest G. Anderson _.,....-___._-_- l Sonnets ,,,,,,,, .V V Einar...
Show more2"."99‘4 —g.;.-- 20 THE DIAL EDITORIAL STAFF MATHILDA SAGENG, Editor-in-Chief LITERARY EDITORS BUSINESS MANAGERS MANLEY GJERDE OTTO Ron'rvmrr OLETTA WALD CLIFFORD Sum-m (Gable of Gontents Soil ,,.,.,V.V.._,.,,_.,H____.,,__,_______.Ernest G. Anderson _.,....-___._-_- l Sonnets ,,,,,,,, .V V Einar R. Ryden.._.._._-..*e~_._ 3 How a Freshman Keeps Humble .................... ,.Ruth Osterhus __._-__.~____-_-_- 4 An Episode from Life ____________________________________ ,.Luthard Gjerde __ 5 Prayer __________________________________________________________________ "Anna Pederson ..................... -. 6 Scenes from Cathay ............................................ ..Grace Jensen ________________________ _- 7 My Kikung Hills ____________________________________________ ,,Grace Jensen .......................... .i 8 The Cynic , _ _ . . . A A , _ _ _ _ _ _ . __ Gerald Sveeggen ...~..__..~.___,___e__ 9 An Old Minister Fritjof Monseth ___________________ _i_ 9 An Old Maid." Ernest G. Anderson ..................... __ 10 Wintry Winds Agnes M. Freij ........................... __ 11 A Village Constable __________________________________ _-_Bertha Lillehei _________________________ -_ 12 On My Other Father _______________________________________ __Martha Rossing _______________________ or 12 A Self-Made Man Who Worships His Maker____Ernest G. Anderson _________________ .- 13 The Depths , _ e , _ _ _ . _ _, Grace Jensen ............................ __ 14 Music Hath Charms _______________________________________ .MVIaurice Helland ............... _.- 14 On Inferiority Complexes _________________________________ «Mathilda Sageng -._.,.,_e_~-___r__- 15 Caritas Dei _____Lawrence Bueide ...................... -_ 16 The Block Beatrice Helland _______________ __; 17 “Midas” ..... ,. Ingvald M. Norum _______________ -- 18 The Higher Learning ______________________________________ _.Manley Gjerde _________________________ __ 19 Published semi-annually by the literary organizations of Augsburg College, Minneapolis, Minnesota.
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Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 16
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: 14 THE DIAL tongue in speech, or by his hands in writing. Thus a great man is properly praised, even if he has to do it himself. There is, however, one thing which is an abomination to the self-made man, and that is any criticism or personal reﬂection directed against himself. So high and so...
Show more14 THE DIAL tongue in speech, or by his hands in writing. Thus a great man is properly praised, even if he has to do it himself. There is, however, one thing which is an abomination to the self-made man, and that is any criticism or personal reﬂection directed against himself. So high and so exalted is the opinion which he holds of himself that it would be quickly and indignantly resented. Like the medieval kings, the self-made man can do no wrong. ___r_.<$_$>> .__, , ,i , The Depths GRACE JENSEN, ’33 I cannot lift my heart to pray, So deep my care. My lips need form no words to say, Since Thou art there. I cannot lift my voice to sing, So deep my joy, Bat Thou hast ﬁlled the hidden sprth Naught can destroy. I cannot lift my heart or voice In joy or care, But Thou hast made for me the choice, And Thou art there. _#‘<$_$>,__._f Music Hath Charms MAURICE HELLAND, ’33 (((ZQHE little tyke is a born musician,” 9 agree the members of the fair sex who are gathered in an awed and admiring circle about the crib of the youngest twig on the family tree. But the men, remem- bering their own youthful days, predict no such misfortune for the helpless infant. To be a musician, according to their opinion, is to be something effeminate. “The little tyke” will probably begin his musical career almost as soon as he can re- tain his balance on a piano stool. He will probably submit to taking piano lessons as a lesser evil than learning to play a “ﬁddle;” but there will come a time of revolt unless the “little tyke” really is a born musician, which is quite unlikely. I imagine most of us have been given a dose of music at some time or other and have survived the ordeal with few ill—effects, despite our momentary grimaces. Unless this period has left too deep a mark on our personalities, we go through life with a passive interest in music. We may suppose that we could get along just as well without it, if necessary, but I wonder.— Of course I enjoy hearing others sing, too, but to be frank, I think I get more enjoy-
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Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 20
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: “Midas” INGVALD M. Karma, ’34 HEN we were small boys, my two brothers and I had many light duties to perform; one of these was to feed the calves This constant contact brought about a special afﬁnity between us and these young quadrupeds. In spite of the fact that there was quite a number of them...
Show more“Midas” INGVALD M. Karma, ’34 HEN we were small boys, my two brothers and I had many light duties to perform; one of these was to feed the calves This constant contact brought about a special afﬁnity between us and these young quadrupeds. In spite of the fact that there was quite a number of them, we found it possible to name them all. We took a great deal of pride in the appelations which we attached to the patient animals. I think that one already realizes that Midas was not a king with a golden touch, but simply a calf who received his name from that source. He was born late and was, therefore, in a way, a calf by himself. It was only natural, then, that at the end of a big season we should turn to stories in our readers for his name. We found none more suitable than Midas, so Midas he was. As summer wore on, he grew to be a large calf and was of a very docile nature. While we were fond of all the young kine and neg- lected none of them, we were always ready to give special attention to any one showing particular aptitudes toward becoming a pet. The result was that, before the summer was over, Midas would follow us about the place as much as we desired and sometimes more. A loud call of that magic name would start him at a jump, and keep him going at full speed until he reached the spot from whence came the welcome sound. It mattered little whether there were one or more fences in his way; he was little detained on that ac- count. The fact is, that he was out of the pasture more than he ever was within. It was not unusual to ﬁnd him nibbling at the things growing in the garden or to see him walk indiﬁ'erently over mother’s ﬂowepbeds. And strangely enough, it did not seem to bother his conscience in the least. Winter brought a long conﬁnement for our pet, but, like everything else, it also had an end, and with it came liberty once more. As soonasschoolwasoutsothatwehadmore time for play, we decided that Midas had great possibilities as a draft animal. The ﬁrst important step in this direction was to obtain something that might be fashioned into some sort of a harness. Father was ap- proached on this subject, and was ﬁnally persuaded that it was all right to let us have the desired materials. After these had been procured, it was not long before we had the young mammal arrayed in a marvelous en- tanglement of knots, rivets, ropes, and straps. The sled which daddy had made for us was deemed a better vehicle than the coaster wagon for this ﬁrst venture, as it was very strong and there would be no dif- ﬁculty about short turns. Midas was soon securely attached to this winter-rig to take one of us for a “summer-ride.” This was a new experience to him, and it took a long time to convince him that he ought to go for- ward. Our methods of persuasion were many and varied. When our constraint be- came too vigorous, he made one great launch forward, coming down on all four feet at once, and remained in that position. How- ever, in a remarkably short time he learned his lesson with no greater casualties than a number of additional knots and strings on that contraption which we called the har- ness and some minor repairs on our sled. Midas was now a trained ox, and would do our bidding very willingly. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it. We made a large cart which was quite serviceable for hauling pur- poses. Thus we combined work and play. The only exciting experience which I am re- call after that happened one day when my two brothers went out in search of thrills. Our ox presented himself, and with the sight of him came the idea of hitching him to the coaster wagon. As soon as this was accomp- lished they started for a ride, but the prog- ress was too slow to thrill young Americans. They, therefore, invited Rover, the collie, to
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Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 02
Collection: Literary Journals

Title: The Dial December 1930, Page 12
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: 10 THE DIAL minister takes his leave and goes to visit Mrs. Anderson. She immediately invites him to come in and have a cup of coffee. He accepts the offer, and, before she has occa- sion to give him a second cup, he politely re- quests a little more. He inquires about her rheumatism and listens...
Show more10 THE DIAL minister takes his leave and goes to visit Mrs. Anderson. She immediately invites him to come in and have a cup of coffee. He accepts the offer, and, before she has occa- sion to give him a second cup, he politely re- quests a little more. He inquires about her rheumatism and listens eagerly as she un- folds her past history and present troubles. The minister makes his next call at the dairyman’s. He goes with his friend to the dairy-barn and observes the milking proce- dure with great delight. He numbers the cows and returns to compare his ﬁndings with those of his host. When the skimming of the milk is begun, the minister very cheer— fully oﬁ'ers a helping hand. He engages in a conversation with the hired man until the task is ﬁnished. Then he returns to the house and, upon coming into the kitchen, reminds the Wife of his friend that they have much for which to be thankful. During the sup- per hour he discusses the conditions in the synod with his host. who is a deacon. After- wards he retires to the parlor where he par~ ticipates in spirited singing with the young people of the home. He knows the young men in his parish personally, and during the winter frequently goes with them on ﬁsh- spearing trips. He is also acquainted with the children in his parish. The only time he has difﬁculty in causing them to obey him is at Christmas programs when he pleads with them to keep their candy bags closed until they get outside the church. He takes great pleasure in calling upon college and seminary students to address his congrega~ tions. When the student appears to have made a failure, he promptly rises and selects a statement made by the speaker, and cla- borates on it at length. In all my observa- tions of the old minister I have noticed this outstanding trait: sympathetic considera- tion for all his fellow-beings. An Old Maid ERNEST G. ANDERSON, ’34 IS popularly and superﬁcially deﬁned as a remnant on the matrimonial bargain- counter. The same authority which is re- sponsible for the deﬁnition has sought to ex- plain her unfortunate condition in various ways. It has been pointed out that she was too particular; others, dissenting, said she was not particular enough. Appearances have a great deal to do with our success in life, so it has been averred that she was too thin, and here again we have a deplorable lack of agreement, for this, too, has been denied by some who maintained she was not thin enough. Many other possible reasons could be cited to demonstrate the futility of arriving at a solution of the problem: why is an old maid? We shelve it by concluding in our astuteness, that a woman unmarried is a woman unwanted. But occasionally we discover an old maid living such a self-sacriﬁcing life that we are shamed into silence. Our backyard philoso- phy will not ﬁt such a case. One I remem- ber in particular. I had been asked to visit an old lady who had been bed-ridden for a number of years. Her advanced age and feeble condition demanded constant and per- sonal care, and this duty fell to her daugh- ters. One had a profession and thereby sup- ported all three, but it kept her away from home, so the care of the invalid fell to the lot of the other sister. The atmosphere of that sickroom testiﬁed to the spirit in which she served, and its appearance to the man-
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Title: The Dial December 1930
Collection: Literary Journals

Title: The Dial 1931, Page 20
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: “Midas” INGVALD M. Karma, ’34 HEN we were small boys, my two brothers and I had many light duties to perform; one of these was to feed the calves This constant contact brought about a special afﬁnity between us and these young quadrupeds. In spite of the fact that there was quite a number of them...
Show more“Midas” INGVALD M. Karma, ’34 HEN we were small boys, my two brothers and I had many light duties to perform; one of these was to feed the calves This constant contact brought about a special afﬁnity between us and these young quadrupeds. In spite of the fact that there was quite a number of them, we found it possible to name them all. We took a great deal of pride in the appelations which we attached to the patient animals. I think that one already realizes that Midas was not a king with a golden touch, but simply a calf who received his name from that source. He was born late and was, therefore, in a way, a calf by himself. It was only natural, then, that at the end of a big season we should turn to stories in our readers for his name. We found none more suitable than Midas, so Midas he was. As summer wore on, he grew to be a large calf and was of a very docile nature. While we were fond of all the young kine and neg- lected none of them, we were always ready to give special attention to any one showing particular aptitudes toward becoming a pet. The result was that, before the summer was over, Midas would follow us about the place as much as we desired and sometimes more. A loud call of that magic name would start him at a jump, and keep him going at full speed until he reached the spot from whence came the welcome sound. It mattered little whether there were one or more fences in his way; he was little detained on that ac- count. The fact is, that he was out of the pasture more than he ever was within. It was not unusual to ﬁnd him nibbling at the things growing in the garden or to see him walk indiﬁ'erently over mother’s ﬂowepbeds. And strangely enough, it did not seem to bother his conscience in the least. Winter brought a long conﬁnement for our pet, but, like everything else, it also had an end, and with it came liberty once more. As soonasschoolwasoutsothatwehadmore time for play, we decided that Midas had great possibilities as a draft animal. The ﬁrst important step in this direction was to obtain something that might be fashioned into some sort of a harness. Father was ap- proached on this subject, and was ﬁnally persuaded that it was all right to let us have the desired materials. After these had been procured, it was not long before we had the young mammal arrayed in a marvelous en- tanglement of knots, rivets, ropes, and straps. The sled which daddy had made for us was deemed a better vehicle than the coaster wagon for this ﬁrst venture, as it was very strong and there would be no dif- ﬁculty about short turns. Midas was soon securely attached to this winter-rig to take one of us for a “summer-ride.” This was a new experience to him, and it took a long time to convince him that he ought to go for- ward. Our methods of persuasion were many and varied. When our constraint be- came too vigorous, he made one great launch forward, coming down on all four feet at once, and remained in that position. How- ever, in a remarkably short time he learned his lesson with no greater casualties than a number of additional knots and strings on that contraption which we called the har- ness and some minor repairs on our sled. Midas was now a trained ox, and would do our bidding very willingly. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it. We made a large cart which was quite serviceable for hauling pur- poses. Thus we combined work and play. The only exciting experience which I am re- call after that happened one day when my two brothers went out in search of thrills. Our ox presented himself, and with the sight of him came the idea of hitching him to the coaster wagon. As soon as this was accomp- lished they started for a ride, but the prog- ress was too slow to thrill young Americans. They, therefore, invited Rover, the collie, to
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Title: The Dial 1931, Page 02
Collection: Literary Journals

Title: The Dial 1931, Page 12
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: 10 THE DIAL minister takes his leave and goes to visit Mrs. Anderson. She immediately invites him to come in and have a cup of coffee. He accepts the offer, and, before she has occa- sion to give him a second cup, he politely re- quests a little more. He inquires about her rheumatism and listens...
Show more10 THE DIAL minister takes his leave and goes to visit Mrs. Anderson. She immediately invites him to come in and have a cup of coffee. He accepts the offer, and, before she has occa- sion to give him a second cup, he politely re- quests a little more. He inquires about her rheumatism and listens eagerly as she un- folds her past history and present troubles. The minister makes his next call at the dairyman’s. He goes with his friend to the dairy-barn and observes the milking proce- dure with great delight. He numbers the cows and returns to compare his ﬁndings with those of his host. When the skimming of the milk is begun, the minister very cheer— fully oﬁ'ers a helping hand. He engages in a conversation with the hired man until the task is ﬁnished. Then he returns to the house and, upon coming into the kitchen, reminds the Wife of his friend that they have much for which to be thankful. During the sup- per hour he discusses the conditions in the synod with his host. who is a deacon. After- wards he retires to the parlor where he par~ ticipates in spirited singing with the young people of the home. He knows the young men in his parish personally, and during the winter frequently goes with them on ﬁsh- spearing trips. He is also acquainted with the children in his parish. The only time he has difﬁculty in causing them to obey him is at Christmas programs when he pleads with them to keep their candy bags closed until they get outside the church. He takes great pleasure in calling upon college and seminary students to address his congrega~ tions. When the student appears to have made a failure, he promptly rises and selects a statement made by the speaker, and cla- borates on it at length. In all my observa- tions of the old minister I have noticed this outstanding trait: sympathetic considera- tion for all his fellow-beings. An Old Maid ERNEST G. ANDERSON, ’34 IS popularly and superﬁcially deﬁned as a remnant on the matrimonial bargain- counter. The same authority which is re- sponsible for the deﬁnition has sought to ex- plain her unfortunate condition in various ways. It has been pointed out that she was too particular; others, dissenting, said she was not particular enough. Appearances have a great deal to do with our success in life, so it has been averred that she was too thin, and here again we have a deplorable lack of agreement, for this, too, has been denied by some who maintained she was not thin enough. Many other possible reasons could be cited to demonstrate the futility of arriving at a solution of the problem: why is an old maid? We shelve it by concluding in our astuteness, that a woman unmarried is a woman unwanted. But occasionally we discover an old maid living such a self-sacriﬁcing life that we are shamed into silence. Our backyard philoso- phy will not ﬁt such a case. One I remem- ber in particular. I had been asked to visit an old lady who had been bed-ridden for a number of years. Her advanced age and feeble condition demanded constant and per- sonal care, and this duty fell to her daugh- ters. One had a profession and thereby sup- ported all three, but it kept her away from home, so the care of the invalid fell to the lot of the other sister. The atmosphere of that sickroom testiﬁed to the spirit in which she served, and its appearance to the man-
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