roundings. “And what was that tragic miss?" he asked interested. “ "fivern’t a tragic miss, but the afiair was tragic," he answered as he eyed Lory from under his battered straw hat. “I’m listening,” Lory prompted. “Catfish” sighed, and shook himself straight in his chair. Knocking the ashes from... Show moreroundings. “And what was that tragic miss?" he asked interested. “ "fivern’t a tragic miss, but the afiair was tragic," he answered as he eyed Lory from under his battered straw hat. “I’m listening,” Lory prompted. “Catfish” sighed, and shook himself straight in his chair. Knocking the ashes from his pipe he refilled, and puffed slowly in quiet till a huge bank of smoke half obscured him. He sat leaning forward as though thinking out the details, and then leaned back comfortably and began. “Yup! Grandpappy sure ’nough missed once, and like I said, it was tragic, but right comical too. But mind ya, it’s the only miss I knows of. It was a few years back, about the time the Steamer Jackson got itself hung up out on the towhead there in the river. We had a sheriff, a right re- spectable sort 0 fella about that time, and he used ta live in that big white house you passed up the levee a piece the other day. It used ta belong ta old Colonel Wright, who won it from Colonel Shaffer in a game 0 stud poker in back 0 ‘Muskrat’s’- place at the end 0 the street. Seems like as if he won it from Colonel Taylor in a hoss race, and it plum near busted the old Colonel ta see that hoss 0’ his lose. Just whar he got it I can’t say, cause that was afore our time. Well, like I says, the Sheriff was livin’ thar in that house about that time. “Then thar was Hank, a big fella who was biggern you, cause you ain’t so very big. He was a trapper from back in the bayue, and he’d come ta town once in a while an’ get his self tolerably drunk, and the sheriff’d have ta store him away for a couple a days. Course he an’t got nothin’ ta do with Granpapy missin’, ’cept he was George’s partner, an he’s the fella I’m getting ta. George, he was big, too . . . biggern Hank even, but a right handsome sort 0 fella. He was what ya’d call a ladies’ man. Yup! he sure was hand- some all right, more so than Hank. Course Hank weren’t so handsome, not specially since he got them two front teeth 0’ his ajar’d loose in the settlement fight. It sure was right funny ta see him grin . . . sort 0 reminds me o a rab- 10 —THE DIAL Show less
The Escapade of 6 Cup Yesterday I was just a poor neglected cup watching the world from the kitchen shelf; this morning I occupy a place of importance on a sturdy table. You think this is a strange place for a cup to be, you say? Well, maybe so; but I over- heard the girls remark last night that... Show moreThe Escapade of 6 Cup Yesterday I was just a poor neglected cup watching the world from the kitchen shelf; this morning I occupy a place of importance on a sturdy table. You think this is a strange place for a cup to be, you say? Well, maybe so; but I over- heard the girls remark last night that they were going on a hike at six this morning, and naturally they need a cup. Hmm! it’s five—thirty now, and neither of the two have made a stir in their beds. I bet they’ll sleep right through. Whoops! What was that? It sounded like thunder. Might have known, though, that it was the alarm clock . . . and look at those girls dress. Hmm . . . guess my hunch was wrong that time. Ouch! These girls are without mercy. The idea! Stuf- fing me in a bag with a lot of other dishes! Hey! Who punctured me? Oh! it’s that fresh fork; he certainly looks malicious enough. Here we go. I’m being shifted from hand to hand, and I hope they don’t get too careless. Hope I haven’t put on weight of late. They have no reason to complain though. If they were in a bag the way I am, then I’d feel sorry for them . . . but as long as they have fresh air to breathe . . . never! “Riverside” did they say? I’ve been there before. Ah! we’re here already. But I do wish they’d be a little more careful in setting me down. I bruise easily. There’s that fresh fork glaring at me. Guess he’s never been with re- spectable people before! As if I could help that he was al- ways getting tangled up in my handle. Maybe the old flirt has forgotten his company manners. If I couldn’t remem- ber better than that I’d go stick myself into a pickle. Well, perhaps I’d forget my handle if it wasn’t fastened on me. Ah, out of the bag at last. Guess I’ll take a deep breath. Ouch! My throat! What got into it? 000, that smoke! 26 _THE DIAL Show less
Back Home An old man shuffled slowly down the narrow country road in the baking mid-morning sun. The dust rose in small clouds around his feet. Leaning heavily on an old crooked cane, he paused in the shade of some overhanging branches of an oak tree, removed his battered hat, wiped beads of... Show moreBack Home An old man shuffled slowly down the narrow country road in the baking mid-morning sun. The dust rose in small clouds around his feet. Leaning heavily on an old crooked cane, he paused in the shade of some overhanging branches of an oak tree, removed his battered hat, wiped beads of perspiration from his deeply wrinkled brow, and peered intently down the road to the main highway. He started slowly down the dusty road again. A new light seemed to brighten those feeble eyes as a car drew up and stopped at the mailbox by the highway. The mailman placed something in the box, waved a greeting, and drove on. “News from the young ones!” the old man said to him- self as he hurried on as fast as his shuffling feet could carry him. His hand shook as he eagerly opened the box and with- drew a letter. A look of disappointment spread over his face. His eagerness disappeared. The faded blue eyes seemed to grow more dim as he read on the envelope, “Re- turn in five days to Sears Roebuck and Co.” OLAF G. JOHNSON, ’39. ‘k 5:? Resignation Our faith must have a wisdom That will know God’s love though it may come Through grief and pain; He speaketh deepest when My head is low And I must listen to The silent rain. MARGARET CHRISLOCK, ’40. 32 __THE DIAL Show less
24 We Bay’s PM I know that I’ve been bad today, I feel it way down deep. So I just thought I’d tell you this Before I went to sleep. I jerked the kitty’s tail, I did it twice today! I tied it in a knot And then I ran away. She didn’t seem to care so much, So maybe it’s all right. Don’t think I... Show more24 We Bay’s PM I know that I’ve been bad today, I feel it way down deep. So I just thought I’d tell you this Before I went to sleep. I jerked the kitty’s tail, I did it twice today! I tied it in a knot And then I ran away. She didn’t seem to care so much, So maybe it’s all right. Don’t think I really hurt her, ’Twouldn’t tie so very tight. I pinched my sister while she slept, Hardly a pinch at all, But how was I supposed to know That she’d wake up and bawl?! And then I had to play with her. I always get the blame! Things looks as though it’s mutiny, I think it’s all a shame! But since I'm awful sleepy, Guess I’d better say ‘goodnite’. God, bless my Mom and Daddy, . . . . . . Sister too, cause . . ., she’s all right. RUTH ERICKSON, ’41. iii“? What a pity we spend our lives trying to convince our- selves we are doing good. MARION LUND, ’39. 30 __T H E D I A L Show less
Just \X/e Two It was at sunset. We walked alone, together, just God and I. I had asked Him to go with me. We had no de- finite destination . . . we wandered on. We held hands. He looked down at me and smiled. Nothing was said—there was no need to say anything. We chose a river path. It was not... Show moreJust \X/e Two It was at sunset. We walked alone, together, just God and I. I had asked Him to go with me. We had no de- finite destination . . . we wandered on. We held hands. He looked down at me and smiled. Nothing was said—there was no need to say anything. We chose a river path. It was not wide enough for two -—He bade me walk ahead. Listen! It was His feathery flock. “My God, how wonderful Thou art.” He placed His hand upon my shoulder as we listened—I had no strength to walk on, it was too delicately sacred. The new born blades of grass bending—brushing, against one an- other lulled forth in nocturnal tenderness a hymn of hushed, whispering hope. The hallowed air was pregnant with that Inner Presence. We moved . . . closer. The birds were en- circled in the branches of a little pine tree. The setting western sun had cast an auburn halo around the choir, for it was such as they continued to sing, the heavens wept, gently. The rain was falling reverently, in tenderest sobs. The breeze moved with caressive compassion to wipe the tears away. After the concert was over, they asked Him to lead in Scripture reading and prayer. He chose my favorite pas- sage, Psalm 46:10, for He knew it was such. “Be still and know that I am God.” And we were still before Him. Utter silence . . . deeply Reconsecration. Our helpless- ness . . O, Lord, have mercy. For I knew that He was God. There was a silent benediction. And we walked on . . . together, just God and I. * Times flies, but why should I? RUTH ERICKSON, '41. 28 —THE DIAL Show less
And now Floppit was dead. . . . A month ago when Daddy had said, “We’ll have to kill the kitten Joe gave you, dear. He can’t eat yet," the child had taken him in her arms and fed him with a spoon. She had prepared a tiny bed for him in a box, and every night she saw that Floppit was snug before... Show moreAnd now Floppit was dead. . . . A month ago when Daddy had said, “We’ll have to kill the kitten Joe gave you, dear. He can’t eat yet," the child had taken him in her arms and fed him with a spoon. She had prepared a tiny bed for him in a box, and every night she saw that Floppit was snug before she slept. It was she who playfully named him Floppit. He had become a play- mate and a friend for the lonely child. Tenderly she cared for him, and joyfully they played together. The parents marvelled, and rejoiced to see the child so happy. Then came the day when she complained, “Mother, Flop- pit doesn’t want to play with me.” And she noticed re- proachfully that his lovely white coat grew matted and dirty, and Floppit cared not at all. Tearfully she begged, in vain, to eat. When mother said gently, “You must not handle Floppit, dear. He’s sick, you see,” her soft brown eyes filled slowly, and her lips quivered, but she said nothing. She knew. After that she never touched him when they were near, but when she was alone with him she held his little form close and whispered passionate words of comfort and love. At night she said her usual prayer and added, “And God, please make Floppit be well tomorrow.” But tomorrow found Floppit more haggard. Finally, unable to raise his head he lay still. The child’s plead- ing he answered With a dull look. At sundown he was dead. 22 ___THE DIAL Show less
Augustine,” and was hopping about with the teakettle in one hand and the stove poker in the other until Grand- pappy told her to stop. Then she trotted off to the guest parlor to bring out some ice-cold chairs for us to sit on. All at once she remembered it was time for dinner and began lamenting... Show moreAugustine,” and was hopping about with the teakettle in one hand and the stove poker in the other until Grand- pappy told her to stop. Then she trotted off to the guest parlor to bring out some ice-cold chairs for us to sit on. All at once she remembered it was time for dinner and began lamenting the fact that she had only nine potatoes on boiling. She and Grandpappy had had chicken for Sun- day dinner and all through the week, but unfortunately it was all gone now. Then the old black cookstove wouldn’t heat, and when she was going to fire in more fuel, Grand- pappy remonstrated, “No, no, then I only have to go and haul more coal.” Next the table leaves had to be carried down from some remote convenient place, and Granny’s best tablecloth brought out; this called for an historical account on her part. While there was much mathematical computation as to how old it was, the nine potatoes happily boiled away on the stove until they had lost all signs of any individuality. After much bustling about, dinner was ready and all was peaceful until after the blessing had been asked, when up bobbed Granny—she never could sit still and eat when she had company. The nine potatoes had no more been passed than she started them off on another merry chase around the table. “My goodness, ‘mine kind,’ you must eat some- thing,” she would keep on saying even after the third help- mg. Finally she sat down as if to at last begin eating; but no—she began an expostulation on how she had caught cold in her neck while hanging up clothes on washday, and how Grandpappy had lost his hearing in the same enter- prise. He not being able to hear naturally couldn’t dispute her word, but could very nicely carry on his owu conversa— tion at the same time. He was complaining about his twelve hens who never sat on the nest to lay eggs, but to keep their feet warm. Granny, immediately rising to the de- fense of the hens, bobbed up again to bring in a small bas- ketful of eggs from the pantry. Grandpappy vowed she had either been saving them up on the sly or had borrowed some from the neighbors. THE DIAL 5 Show less
Of Education I believe that education is the process by which one learns to live effectively and harmoniously with one’s fellow be- ings. True education is not learning the chemical formula for sulphuric acid, the relative importance of Milton, and the functions of an obtuse triangle. These... Show moreOf Education I believe that education is the process by which one learns to live effectively and harmoniously with one’s fellow be- ings. True education is not learning the chemical formula for sulphuric acid, the relative importance of Milton, and the functions of an obtuse triangle. These things are valu- able only if through them we are able to live a life that is of some value to others. Learning how to live is really of far greater fundamental importance. If we do not give others a share in that which we have learned, We might just as well have stayed ignorant. What value is that knowledge which we acquire and then store back in our brain cells some place where it has not an op- portunity to enrich and to ennoble life? If we discover something beautiful and then show it to others, not only will they benefit from it, but we ourselves will gain a bless- ing. What use would some of Edison’s ideas have been, for instance, if he had not shared them with the world? Our ideas may not be so great that they will revolutionize the world, but they will in all probability benefit ourselves and others if we express them. A golden rule policy may be applied in the field of knowl- edge as well as in other phases of life. It is more blessed to give than to receive. It is a wonderful experience to learn, but it seems more wonderful yet to be able to share with others something that we have acquired along life’s highway. I believe that we even receive more out of open- ing some one’s eyes to a particular beauty of nature, for in- stance, than that person himself gets out of the new revela- tion of life. There is a certain undeniable joy and satis- faction in the assurance that we have aided some one in his search for life. Why do we go to college? Probably all would answer unanimously, “To get an education.” What then is an edu- cation, and are we accomplishing our purpose? Certainly THE DIAL__—_ 15 Show less
v-vw Granpappy A ‘Eale of the £ower (River If one didn’t know better, one would certainly believe that the huge yellow moon was going to set itself in the middle of the lazy river. But knowing better did not re- move any of the romantic powers it possessed. In fact, all of the Shanty folks were... Show morev-vw Granpappy A ‘Eale of the £ower (River If one didn’t know better, one would certainly believe that the huge yellow moon was going to set itself in the middle of the lazy river. But knowing better did not re- move any of the romantic powers it possessed. In fact, all of the Shanty folks were out on their floating porches en- joying the quiet and cool of the beautiful summer evening. It was the mysterious quiet, and the magnolia scented cool- ness that can be found only along the Southern bends of the South Mississippi. With the Shanties tied up close un- der the flowering Cottonwoods, the River Folks could hear the giant bull frogs booming loudly back in the bayue, and the sound of the sleepy breezes stirring among the willows, and they thought this was the most glorious night they’d ever seen. Now and then the low ripple of laughter would mark the progress of some courtship, or the low murmur of voices, and twanging rattle of a Banjo drifted from floating struc- tures told of the peace with which these people lived. Every- one was out sitting. The women sat and knitted as they talked of the latest gossip that came up from New Orleans or Natchez. The men were sitting too, smoking or chew- ing, but mainly doing both, . . . nodding their heads now and then to affirm a wife’s or sweetheart’s statement. Up at the head of the row lay Granpappy’s shanty. Like Old Man River himself he sat out on the porch chewing, 8 ____THE DIAL Show less