Issuu

Yes, experience during the war shortage taught million s the differences in cigarette quality.

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Three nationally known independent r esearch organizations asked 113 ,597 doctors-in every branch of medicine-to name

THE MESSENGER

Westhampton

PEGGY HARRIS

Asst. W'esthampton

VERDA SLETTEN Art Editor

LAVINIA WATSON

Assistant Art Editor

SETH DARROW

Hannah Barlow Wilma Lum

Alice Macon

CONTACT

Dorran

Frances Hix Hathaway Pollard Editor-in-Chief

Asst.

Assistant

McDONALD

Walt Preston

Mildred Bellows

Marion Feiber

Kathleen Mallory

As the Editor-in-Chief of THE MESSENGER, I, along with the other editors and the entire staff, wish to apologize to the student body, to the faculty, to the University and to the many friends of the University for the poor taste and lack of judgment shown by us in publishing the article called "The Richmond Collision" in the April issue of THE MESSENGER.

-FLETCHER STIERS,JR.

The Stars Come Out

The stars co11:eout upon a sky of ink And in their glory shine. The moon appears As big, as bright, as if the time were noon And 'twere the sun instead of Dian's orb. It is the time when joy begins to sink, For the arrival of visions and hopes and dreams and fears. For with the thoughts of these there comes too soon The feeling of futility. The urge To stretch, to reach, to feel the glowing sphere Is as the urge to see the fondest dreams Complete. The failure to attain the moon

Leaves in the human heart despairs which merge Into the ail consuming, gnawing Fear. The attempt ends dismally-like all our schemes.

-]. B. I. K.

The Man Who Wouldn't Kill

WE FIRST decided to kill him one night in January. Ellen and I were sitting comfortably before the fireplace, just beginn ing to feel drowsy, when we heard him upstairs. H er .fingers tightened on my arm, and she moved a bit closer to me. I knew what she was thinking; kn ew how she feared him . In spite of ourselves, we both breathed softer and listened intently. Ever so of ten above the crackle of the fire we could hear him moving about. The floors of the old frame house were rather creaky, particularly those on the second and third stories, and for the past two weeks we had been awakened nearly every night by his midnight prowls. My wife had even seen him on two occasions just outside the bedroom door; a door that remained open because of a developing claustrophobic tendency in Ellen. He never showed himself during the day. I suppose he must have eaten, but God alone knows how.

A small log fell off the fire and Ellen jumped. I squeezed her hand reassuringly and poked the fire a little. No need to put fresh wood on; it was nearly bedtime. I returned to the sofa and Ellen spoke.

" You've got to kill him Tomas-you've got to." H er voice was low and tense, and as she spoke, her hands clutched the lapels of my coat; her eyes all the while searching mine for signs of acquiescence.

' T ve stood this as long as I can, Tomas . You've got to do it for me. Do it for me, Tomas!!"

I don ' t think I really hated him. I don't think I've ever really hated anything or anybody. I certamly never thought I could kill. Perhaps it's best I say something about my life.

My father was the gentlest man I've ever known, and my mother was the kindest person imag inable. Father was a concert violinist,-never a g reat one, just mediocre. He was inseparably wedded to music, and nature, in its small, insignificant forms, was his mistress. He was happiest when he could play his beloved violin to the birds and the butterflies in the meadow just beyond our country cottage. Mother's great love was flowers, and in grace and loveliness she far surpassed the most wondrous blooming of her charg es. They lived in a dream world, and I, their son, shared it-but never fully. My painting tal-

ent was early recognized; I was told by many teachers that the touch of genius was in my stroke. When I was still in my teens I was sent to Paris, there to study in the great Academy, and later to come under the wing of the incomparable Rene de Courtier.

Looking back, I now realize that in spite of the tender ethereal love that we three had in common, my parting could not have left them completely desolate. They were hardly of this world, and my material absence must, I think, have been recompensed by added reverie.

I never saw these people again. They died while I was abroad. Sometimes I myself find it hard to believe that they were real, and not the product of my fancy, rather than I the product of their flesh and blood union.

I have been a kind man. I do not boast when I say this. "Tomas?", any one of my friends has said time and time again, "Tomas is a good man. He would not harm a fly." That is not mere rhetoric. I have been the butt of many jokes because of my sensitive nature. My absolute refusal to hunt or fish on the grounds that it was brutal had provoked much laughter at my expense. And now Ellen, my wife, whom I loved beyond all reasoning, was asking me to kill.

I was not surprised that she should ask this. Rather, I had been expecting it. She had been nervous and irritable since the baby's death,-even a bit irrational at times. The environment of the gloomy old house which had set the mood for some of her best mystery stories in the past was scarcely conducive to a speedy recovery from the shock of her recent loss.

She still awaited my answer, but I was not yet ready to soil my hands with blood. Instead,"We'll get Jacob to do it," I suggested.

She was adamant.

"No, Tomas,-you know that Jacob is too old and feeble to cope with anything but his flowers. He would catch himself in his own trap."

"The local authorities?"

"They would call you mad!"

Reluctantly I agreed that this was so, and still more reluctantly I consented to the deed.

We stayed up much later than usual that night. Ellen, who possessed a brilliant mind, laid the [ 3 J

plans, and, in spite of myself, I found my blood racing a little faster through my veins as the ingenuity that had formerly characterized her mystery stories was put to practical, personal use. Her face was alternately illumined and darkened as I fed the fire on the hearth small chunks of wood. Her eyes seemed to glow with a fiendish light as the plot unfolded.

The next two days I spent constructing a huge trap I was quite competent at carpentry ; it had l ong been my favorite hobby The finished product was a credit to my artistry. When sprung, a heavy keen-edged blade descended with force enough to cut any man in two. A six-ounce force was all that was necessary to spring the trap, and the resultant action was trigger quick.

Carrying the trap from my workshop in the basement to the corridor on the second floor was a task that taxed all the strength of my frail form. I set it in position, a scarce six feet from our bedroom door, just as darkness was falling on the second day. I had to rest before I coiled the spring , even though a small system of pulleys diminished the force necessary to do so.

That night we sat before the fire in the living room until nearly dawn,-waiting, waiting,-listening, listening Nothing happened. As usual we heard sounds which by now we could easily identify as issuing from the third floor, but the trap remained intact. The same was the case the next night. The third night I qn never forget. I am sure that even death can never erase that hideous memory

The early part of the third night WiJ.S indistinguishable from the preceding two, except that our nerves were more frayed, our bodies more weary ; yet sleep was never farther away. The hours passed slowly .' We spoke but little. When the old clock in the hall stru ck one, we again gave up our wait. I remember how grotesque and giantlike were the shadows cast on the wall by my flickering kerosene lamp as we ascended the old staircase, hand in hand We gave a wide berth to the trap as we passed it. I'm sure we both shuddered violently, and I wondered that I could have created such an ill-app~aring thing.

~re were both exhausted from our three nights ' vigil, and Ellen soon qr,opped off to sleep. I , however , was not so lucky as she. I heard the old clock strike two and, later, three. I remember that it had just begup. to rain softly outside when I saw him. He was in the room , a vague shape emerging

from behind Ellen's dresser. I lay there petrifi ed. Perhaps I am a coward , I don't know. I watch ed agonizingly as the huge ' thing-much greate r in size than I had expected-ran quickly across the room to Ellen's side of the bed.

"Ellen! " , I shrieked, "He's here. He ' s in the room!"

She started up and screamed as she saw him She tore from my grasp and ran screaming through the door.

"Ellen!" I shouted, "The trap, the trap! "

But I was too late. I heard the snap; her screams were cut off in mid-air, and I could even hear the descending blade sing before it cut her bod y in two My mind snapped completely. I ran screaming from the room I must have run past her body and the damnable trap, but I don't rememb er. I remember nothing after the trap was sprung , and I realized that Ellen, my wife, was dead.

Jacob, the old gardener, found her the n ext morning He found me that afternoon alm ost a mile away in the woods. My head was bru t ally cut by a rock. I judge that I must have fallen and struck my head in that ghastly flight. It was days before I regained consciousness. The doctor u n der whose care I had been placed then informed me, as gently as possible , that I was being held un der suspicion of murder. The police were not all owed to question me, because I was not yet well en ough. I was , however , shown a copy of the coron er's report , which concluded with these lines: ". Examination of corpse reveals pre sence of several bites in the region of the arms, breasts, and legs. These bites are of an animal variety Chemical tests show saliva conte nt of animal to be identical with that of ord inary house rat, but size of bites indicates a rat l arger than any heretofore known to man ."

My physical and mental condition was not such as to withstand this added shock. I lapsed int o a coma that continued for several days. At th e conclusion of this, I was sent to a rest home in ne ar-by Illinois. I soon learned that the authoritie s had given the old house a thorough rodent exter mination treatment but that no trace had been fou n d of an oversized rat.

I had been at the rest home two weeks wh en I found . tl:iat it was really a sanatorium, that I was considered quite insane . I was astounded . Although there were times when strange things hap· pened to ,me, when I heard Ellen's voice, or fancied I saw her, I was really quite sane. Except for [ 4]

nights. That is, in th~ beginning I thought something was wrong with at nights, but later I found out it wasn't my imagination. You see, the rat lives in the sanatorium now. He followed me here. Just like in the old house, he never is around during the day. But I see him at night. Every night. As soon as the lights are out he comes into my room. Sometimes he jumps on the bed and I kick and scream and holler. The guards come then and the rat goes away. The guards don't believe he wa s there. They laugh at me and tie me to the bed and warn me to keep quiet. Sometimes they stuff a gag in my mouth before they leave. Then the rat comes back. He never comes on the bed then. He just sits on the floor and looks at me. He's waiting for me to die, but I'm going to fool him. I'm going to kill him! Yes, I am, I'm going to kill him and I know how to do it! I'll run away from here and go to the old house and he'll follow me ther e and I'll burn the house down, yes, I will. Tomorrow I'll leave and tomorrow night I'll burn the old house down and the rat will burn too. Yes I will!

T he fire was still burning viciously, lighting up the entire countryside, as Inspector Sweeney finished reading. The small circle of men felt strangely chilled in spite of the heat being generated near by .

"T hat's the last entry, dated February 16,-yesterday. I guess he dropped the diary before he entered the house.-The poor devil," he added, glancing at the charred corpse the fireman had just brought out.

Th e cub reporter shifted his feet nervously and

asked with forced levity, "Do you guess he killed his rat?"

Sweeney scowled at him, but didn't answer. Lieutenant Foster spoke quietly.

"This is a strange case, Sweeney. What do you make of it?"

"They were crazy as bed bugs, both of 'em!"

"Was there really a rat?", Foster asked thoughtfully.

Sweeney looked at him in amazement.

"Nick, are you nuts, too? Of course there wasn't any rat!"

"What about the coroner's report on the condition of his wife's body. Those rat bites-you saw them yourself !"

Sweeney was getting irrit2ted.

"I don't know all the answers!" he exploded. " Maybe somebody's hungry hound dog got to her body before the gardener did !"

A sudden shout of warning arose from one of the firemen.

"Look out, there she goes."

With a mighty roar the massive roof tumbled into the inferno, crumbling the greater portion of the walls along with it. The flames licked out anew . The glare and heat forced the little group back farther. As they turned toward the conflagration again, they saw an animal-like figure, ablaze, race madly from the burning building across the side yard and disappear into the darkness. The men looked at one another in astonishment. Sweeney was the first to find his tongue.

"In all my fifty-eight years," he said slowly, "that's the first hound dog I ever heard squeal!"

-BOBBY LUMPKIN.

To ThePoets

Beauteous Keats, my Wordsworth kind \Vould like thee that I might find The beauty of my humankind To lie in sweetest sounds and utterances clear , Lucid as a purling stream That winds its way down through the mean Of Life-and there in ocean vast and deep Mingles, yea, stays Engulfed to live if but for a day.

-GAY FITZGERALD.

[ 5)

The Girl With Jim Colson

HE HAD stopped in with some of the boys from the office to have a couple of beers before he went home, but they had talked a bout Jim Colson and about what he had done , a nd he left as soon as he could because Jim had been a pal of his He had stayed with them just long enough to miss the car that he usually caught , so he walked do,vn a couple of blocks and waited for the next one . When it came along he squeezed onto it When they got to Fourth St. he found himself watching her as she got onto the car. Still he watched her as she pushed her way back through the crowd in the car until she was able to grab onto one of the black leather straps that hung down from the little white rail over her head She must be in her late twenties , he thought, but he never had been very good at guessing ages. She was wearing a tight light blue dress that looked g ood on her. And her hair was blond, the bottle kind that you can spot for a mile off. It curled slightly at the ends and was cut very short. Her lips were thick with red , and were very heavy , and he also thought that she was wearing too much rouge . Her eyebrows had been freshly plucked away and they had been penciled back, but just the same she didn ' t look cheap in the least. Then he edged his way through the thick aftern -oon crowd towards her. He stood close to her for only a brief moment and then, just as the streetcar jerked to a stop, he pushed . " Excuse me ," he said. " Sorry about that," he added when she looked at him .

" Okay ," she said.

"It's sort of crowded in here , ain't it? "

" Yeah ," she answered him. Then the car jerked again as it started up from the stop where the light had caught it. " It always is at this time of the day. "

"Say, " he asked. " I think that we've met some place before. Ain't we? "

"Maybe we have ," she answered, "but I don ' t think that I really could say for sure ."

"Well, I think we have. Say, didn't you used to date Jim Colson? "

"No, " she answered very quickly. "No, it won ' t me. I don't even know a guy by that name."

"Oh, " he replied, " well, I really thought that you was the girl that I seen him out with just the

other night. Say, are you sure that you didn 't date 1mJ. 1"

"Sure, I'm sure. It won't me that you saw with him ."

Then he thought for a moment , carefully , before he went on with the conversation "It re ally was too bad about Jim, won ' t it? Poor old boy!"

" I told you that I don't know anyone by that name!"

"Well," he began again, 'Tm sure that I've seen you some place, and I thought that you was with Jim. " Then the streetcar jerked again to a h arsh stop . " Yes , sir , it was too bad about poor old Jim, won't it? "

" Yeah? Was it? What happened to the gu y?"

" Don ' t you read the papers? "

" Yeah , but I don't think that I read anyt hing about him in them. What happened? "

"It was there! In all the papers! "

"Well what happened to this guy?"

" Jim? Jim shot himself, that's what happ ened. Last Wednesday night. It was in all the p apers. His room was right over mine, and I hear d the shot. It was almost midnight when I hear d it. Then I rushed up with some of the others tha t live there in the boardinghouse, and there was Jim, laying sprawled out on his bed Naked as a jay bird! And there was a bullet hole in his head. Jim was dead as anything could be! Too bad , too. Jim was a pal of mine ."

" Say, that's too bad. Why did the guy d o it?" He did not think that she really was surpri sed at what he had said.

' TU be damned if I know ," he answered . T hen he added , ' Tm sure that I've seen you about some place or the other. I really am."

" Well, you might have seen me, big boy . I get around quite a bit. Yes I do!" Then the streetcar jerked again and he caught her befor e she could fall. " Thanks," she said, and then she ran her fingers through her hair and pushed it back into place "Now, big boy. Just where was it that you thought that you saw me?"

" Why, it was over at Tony's," he exclaimed suddenly. "That is just where it was! You know the place, don't you? Out there on the River Road? I think that is where I saw you, and you was with Jim Colson. Are you really sure th at it [6]

won' t you? Jim was a good pal of mine. It was last Monday night, that is when it was!"

"W ell," she began, "I might have been out there on last Monday night, but I won't out there with anybody by the name of Jim Colson. No, I won't."

"Was you out there last Monday night for sure?" Then he thought for just a brief moment before he added quickly: "Were you out there late last Monday night?"

" I was, but it won't so late."

" Say, do you work?"

"What do you think, big boy?" She laughed, "I don't look like no millionaire, do I?"

"I don't know about that," he answered, "but you look okay to me. I thought that maybe your husband wouldn't let you get out and go to work." It was the best way that he knew to find out if she were married or not.

"How did you know that I'd been hitched? "

" Ain't you?"

" Yeah," she answered. "I was. But when it comes to him, though, he goes his way and I go mine! I've got my friends and I guess that he has got a couple of his own!" The streetcar turned off Mai n St. and began to climb up along Burgos Hill. "Y es, sir, he goes his way and I go mine. Th at is the only thing that I can say that I like about being married. Yes, sir! We ain't lived together for over a year. My dear old hubby just ain' t no good at all!"

All the while that she spoke, he watched her and when she had finished, he said, "You know what? I'd be willing to swear to it that it was you that I seen out there at Tony's last Monday night with Jim Colson!" Then he thought about it for a moment; maybe Jim hadn ' t told her his right name! Maybe he had taken another name because he was sure that she was the girl that he had seen and he was sure that she was the girl that he had heard Jim talk about before. Then he began again: "Jim was a tall blond fellow. About twenty-seven, guess. He was a big fell ow with a good build. Jim used to play some pro football about. I guess that a woman would say that he was kind of good looking. But Jim was a swell fellow. He was a pal of mine. I got mad with him once. I had a girl, but he met her and took her away from me. I wanted to fight him I was so mad , but he wouldn't fight me. Jim said that I could have her back, but then I didn't want her, and we were pals again, but I never forgave him

for doing that to me. She was a swell kid until she met him! Jim used to always go around with good-looking blonds like you. Lots of times he would get me dates , but they never were as good looking as his."

"Say," she said, "maybe I should have known that guy. I go for men like that." He laughed briefly, and then she went back to her speech and added as almost an afterthought, "but your type ain't bad."

He looked at her, and then he looked at her still once again, and he looked at her very carefully the last time that he did. It was the same girl. He knew it. He had heard Jim talk about her. This just had to be the same girl. It had to be! "Say, you ain't got a twi~ around any place, have you?"

"No, no I haven't," she answered.

"Once Jim got drunk, and he hurt me and I had· to go to the hospital, ·but he was drunk and didn't mean to hurt me. I had to stay there for a week. He came to see me every day."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Then Jim used to take me out and get me good and drunk and get me to do all sorts of crazy things, and then the next day he would tell me all about it. He got me to go swimming on Christmas Eve in the lake! Then one time he got me drunk and put me on the train for Atlanta. I didn ' t wake up until I got to Charlotte and I didn't have a cent. Jim had taken all my money. Once he took my clothes and put me in an elevator that went down to the lobby, we were in a hotel. ... "

"Say, you must have been dumb. You sound like his fall guy."

"Like his what?"

"Nothing. Why do you call him a pal of yours?"

"I don't know, I guess that I liked him. Sometimes I hated him because of the things that he would do to me. Jim was a funny guy!" But he knew that it was the same girl, now he was almost sure of it. It was the very one that he had seen with Jim out at Tony's! It had to be because no two people could look that much alike. Hadn ' t he heard Jim talk about her? Why Jim had told him all about her, and she looked just the way Jim had said, and she looked just the same that she had that night that he saw her out at Tony's. "Well," he started, "I had had a couple of drinks that night. Maybe I wasn't seeing things so straight, [7} I

but I would be willing to swear to it that you were and out into the almost as crowded suburbs th at the one that I saw with Jim." seemed to be just as hot as the city had been. The n

She looked like she was getting a little mad at he began to wonder when she would get off th e what he had been saying. "Say, big boy! You car. "Well," he began again, "she sure was some must have had more than just a couple of drinks looker, and you look just like her. Baby, you sure in you that night! I was there, but I won't with do!! Are you sure that it really won't you. Say, that crazy pal of yours!" maybe it was a good thing that I missed my reg u-

"Don't you call Jim crazy!" lar car tonight."

"He sounds like he was."

"Jim won't crazy!"

" Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, so he won't. But I won't with him " "Say, how many drinks have you put in you t his Then the streetcar turned down along old afternoon?" she asked. Battle Street, and it began to make its journey "Maybe one, maybe two, maybe more," he anacross Burgos Summit Some of the people on the swered. "Just enough to cool me off a little. O ne car got off, but just as many seemed to get on, and or two more would fix me up just right!" they still had to stand. Everyone wanted to get 'TH bet that it would!" home as quickly as they could from downtown. It "Maybe we could get off of this thing and go had been a very hot day, and as evening came on it and get a few drinks in us, just you and me. Say, didn't seem to want to get any cooler at all. The what do you say about that? Huh?" girl hung onto the leather strnp and swayed as the "No thanks. I've got to get home." car stopped and started all along its journey. He "Got a date tonight?" only wished that he could have known her about "Maybe " five years before. She must really have been a "I thought that you said a little while ago that good looker then, but when he thought of it, he you were going for a little walk in the park torealized that she still wasn't bad at all. Jim had night," he answered. "What about that?" gone out with her, and he never went out with "Well, what about it? I ain't heard about a l aw anyone that wasn't good looking, he thought. that says that you've got to walk in the park by "Say, it is hot, ain't it?" he asked. He had yourself. I've got an apartment on the top floor already taken off his coat and tie and they hung and it gets mighty hot. I can go for a walk in t he over his left arm. With his other arm, he hung park with anyone that I want to. Say, what is onto the leather strap over his head that was next wrong with you?" to the one that she was holding onto. He didn't "Nothing." sway as much as she did. "Well," she answered, "that is good and I'm "Yeah," she answered, "I think that maybe I'll very glad to hear it. Well, this is the place th at I go for a walk in the park tonight." get off of this thing." She rang the bell, and then

''Ah, the park ain't no good at all. Too many she moved to the front of the car. There was an people there. I like to go out to Harvey's Lake on empty seat and he grabbed it at once. The stop hot nights like this. Have you ever been out light caught the streetcar at the corner. As he sat there?" there, he watched her go across the street and t hen " Not in years." go into the small apartment house on the corner.

"You sure look like that girl that I saw with That was where Jim had told him once that she Jim last Monday night. You sure do. Honest. lived 1 Maybe, sometime when he didn't have anyAre you really sure that it won't you?" · thing lined up, he could go and look her up. A fter

"Look here, big boy. I'm getting sick and tired all he knew where she lived, and she had told him of this wack-wack of yours about me. Can't you that her apartment was on the top floor. He wonget it through that skull of yours that it won't me dered why she had lied about not being with Jim ? that you saw out there at Tony's with your pal? Then he suddenly knew that Jim had shot him self You might have seen me out there, but I won't because of her. He wished that he could have m ade with him. I've told you that a hundred times, I Jim do it! Then the streetcar started up wit h a have. I won't with no Jim Colson!" quick and sudden jerk that almost threw him The streetcar began to work its way out of the from his seat. overly confused maze of !he almost unplanned city -FLETCHER STIERS,JR. [ 8}

Creation

Out of the dark

Where the stars are whirling And the earth is only a flickering light, I hear a mystic music swirling, The song of the stars, cascading, hurling. Its white gold echoes into the night.

Deep in the pulse of me, Deep, it is pounding, Tearing my heart, yet making it wholeThe song of the universe, faintly pounding, The song of the stars and the worlds surrounding. The white gold echoes are caught in my soul.

-PAT BALLAGH.

Escape In Death

THE trees were slowly swaying in the breeze while the blazing sun sank lower in the sky. Beneath these trees lay Pardu, a native of Borneo He was lying there unable to move. Only upon close inspection could one tell that this human being still lived. His body was burnt with fever. His skin was slashed by thorns. One of his legs was twisted like a corkscrew. He lay there in a semiconscious state of mind. The pain from his leg was unbearable. His parched throat caused him such severe pain that he could not even swallow. His tongue was so swollen that he could hardly close his mouth. As he lay there, Pardu hazily recalled the events of the last week.

Pardu had been working in the sugar fields of his master when he broke the plow that he had been using. He remembered the severe beating that he had received several weeks ago for committing a similar offense. Rather than face the same punishment, he decided to hide in the jungle surrounding the plantation. When dusk came and the other workers returned to their huts, Pardu cautiously crept into the underbrush.

Darkness had just settled over the island when Pardu heard bloodhounds coming in his direction. He realized that his absence had been discovered. He knew that if he was now caught, he would be unmercifully beaten and probably crippled for the remainder of his life. Therefore, in order to escape capture, he went deeper into the jungle.

The night was pitch dark. The moon was obscured from view by thick clouds. Pardu could not see where he was going. He was struck in the face several times by low hanging branches. He stumbled and fell on the moist earth, the stench of which filled his nostrils. He pulled himself erect and blindly pushed bis way forward. The jungle resounded with the many noises made by the many animals and insects which prowl at night. Nevertheless, the sound of his advance seemed to be multiplied tenfold. Pardu stopped several times in order to hear if the bloodhounds

entire night. Finally, the first light of dawn appeared.

Pardu stopped and listened, but he could n o longer hear the dogs. However, he was afraid to stop and rest because of the possibility that th e dogs might still be on his trail. If they found him now, the chances of his making good his escape would be very small.

The sun rose in the sky. For the first time , Pardu realized that he was hungry. He looke d around him, but he could not find any bushe s which bore edible fruits. He had to plod his way through the water and mud. He got into heav y growths of roots and had to slowly squeeze hi s way through the underbrush. His face became covered with blood from the constant biting of swarms of tiny bugs which hovered around him . The bugs were all over his body. They covered his eyelids and hindered his sight. It did no goo d to kill them because there were always thousand s of others to take the place of those few that wer e killed.

He tramped through the jungle all day. H is throat became parched and sore. His clothes wer e in shreds. His shoes were caked with mud. Hi s feet became heavy. Exhausted, Pardu fell in a half-dry spot. He took large handfuls of black mud and smeared it over his face, neck, arm s, hands. and legs. Still the insects tormented him The mud smelled so foul that it almost became unbearable for him to lie there. In spite of th e most unpleasant conditions, Pardu dozed off int o a fitful slumber.

He was awakened the following morning by the dripping of the trees on his face. His body w as so exhausted and his senses were so dulled th at he was not even disturbed by the terrific rain which had faiien during the night. The jungl e was slowly shedding its watery cloak under th e rays of the blazing sun.

Pardu tried to get up. His muscles wouldn 't respond to his desires, and he helplessly fell back on the ground. His entire body ached with sorewere still on his trail. Always there was that ness. Since he had been lying all night in a curle d baying of the clogs to spur him on forward. position, his limbs were stiff, and they pained him

Pardu's shirt was torn. Although his muscles when he tried to straighten his body. He painfull y ached, he continued to push his ~ay through the pulled himself upright and straightened his sore underbrush. He advanced in this manner the body.

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Pardu looked around him for something to eat. He was afraid to eat the unfamiliar things he saw for fear of being poisoned. Still he had to eat something or starve. He did not know what he would do for drinking water as there were only swamps and marshes around him

The fear of death by thirst and starvation spurred him on. His sores and scratches were again opened by the sticks and thorns which brushed against his body. His face was swollen and sore from the bites of the many insects. His eyes were half-closed , and he walked in a dazed state of mind.

Suddenly, Pardu stumbled and fell into a shallow ditch. As he fell, his leg buckled under him. T he full weight of his body came down on his leg. He lay there for several minutes, stunned and unable to move. After trying to stand, he d iscovered that he could not put any weight on his right leg . Pardu once again sank on the ground and lay there in much pain . He examined h is leg and found that it was broken at the ankle. T he bone was trying to break through the skin. H e didn't know what to do. He then realized that his chance of escape had indeed lessened a gr eat deal. He could only wait for the end.

In desperation, Pardu crawled over to a tree an d picked up a strong branch which was lying un der it. He supported his bad leg on the stick an d tried to walk. He made only little progress when he was seized with terrifying pain. He sat down for several minutes, desperately trying to catch his breath and gain control of himself. He tr ied to crawl forward , but this he was unable to do. He just lay back and tried to relax. His broken foo t, which was now swelling and turning blue, seemed as if it were on fire.

Pardu turned around in order to pick up his improvised crutch. He was startled to see crawling towards him a hideous looking snake He painfu ll y rose on his knees and prepared to defend

himself. He picked up the stick and waited for the snake to come within striking distance. The reptile slowly advanced and coiled itself in preparation for the attack. Pardu gripped the stick tightly and lunged forward in the direction of the snake. He struck it with all of his strength and continued to beat upon the snake until there was no strength left in his arms. He then lay down on the ground, gasping for breath.

It was quite some time before he sufficiently recovered himself to decide what he would now do. His leg was hurting him more every minute. He crawled forward about ten yards and then found it necessary to lie down and try to regain his strength. Exhausted, Pardu fell into a deep slumber.

When Pardu woke up, his entire body was covered with large ants. They crawled all over him. He tried to knock them off of his body, but they stuck to him as if they were attached with glue. As soon as he cleared one part of his skin from the pests, they would crawl right back. Finally, after rolling over several times in the dirt, Par du succeeded in ridding himself of these annoying creatures

The night and day thus passed. Pardu was unable to move He lay in one spot. His mind was dazed and in a delirium. His entire body was covered with cuts and blood. His lips were dry and his cheeks were swollen. His foot was the size of a small tree. The bone had broken through the skin, and his flesh was exposed.

The stars were bright that night , and the wind whistled in the trees. With one last effort, Pardu tried to raise himself on his elbows. He half rose and then fell back-dead His body lay still. The sound of his breathing no longer disturbed the quiet of the night.

Pardu had made his escape No longer would he suffer.

-MANUEL 0. JAFFE.

The Word

Only a word between them And a goodly word at that, Only a word between them , So so£t on his lips it sat.-

She couldn ' t have minded it, surely, That sweet, kindly, fond little word. Her heart slipped out of his hand And died; quiet as a wounded bird

-VERDA SLETTEN.

[ 11 ]

A Chinese Student on an American Campus

WITH no attractive color on her face, and no embellishments on her hair and fingers, or around her neck and wrists, she looks like a faded milestone, flat and dull. Her eyes are always gazing and wondering, with her ears highly lifted to listen to every unfamiliar foreign word in classes and in meetings. She is trying to be aware of every expression, action and custom of these very different people. As it is not her custom to say "hello" and "good morning" to you but rather to bow her head sometimes, trying to do this instead of the other she manages to do neither of them to greet you, or both of them in a strange manner.

She takes everything seriously, even when she is reading Chaucer's Poems. If you play a joke on her she will stare at you with her wondering eyes and your good joke is spoiled. She seems to be unfriendly and lonesome and does not care to associate with others. Yet, who knows whether she is picking up her friends by observation; whether she is having a good time in her studies? Sl1enever refuses anything which she can do to help. No matter how busy s11e is, she smiles and takes pleasure in helping people in a friendly manner.

Although she does not look like an active, lively girl, yet she jumps, runs, and plays in games vigorously , not inferior to any other. Against her very nature, her short legs always rush around t'.'.e hilly campus and dash up and down the stairways in the dormitory in order to save time.

You may have seen her coming out from the classroom a minute ago, but by the time you arrive at the dining room, she is already sitting there thinking which hand is supposed to handle her fork. While the others rush away, gulping their food and swallowing their coffee, she enjoys her food, eating slowly and peacefully like an old cow chewing her grasses after labor. In the meantime, her wandering mind will recall the good smell of Chinese food and the enjoyment of drinking slowly the hot fragrant tea. Unlike the others, she used to be very ungenerous to the garbage can, scraping her plate until there was nothing edible. Then with satisfaction, she leaves the c!ining room. Passing through the most disagreeable smoke, as she thinks, around the girls, she clashes back to her room and studies again.

If vou ever catch a chance to talk to her, you

will find out nothing from her but a few words such as "fine," "busy," "I never can finish my homework," or "English is my hardest subject." When you show her your beautiful necklace or ring, you will be quite disappointed to get no reaction from her but a smile and a nod. She has not become accustomed to say sweet, admiring, and flattering words like "How wonderful!", "How Lovely! " , or "Oh! How Sweet! I love that!" in a dramatic manner. When she is hugged by arms of emotion she is shocked, standing like a cold stone and knowing not what to do. You can never hear her screaming or exclaiming. Good grades and high honor, delicious food and pretty dresses cannot stir up her emotion. The only time when she gets excited is when she receives a good letter from her faraway home. Her heart will beat a little bit faster while she is holding the letter tightly.

Instructed in an education by Confucius, she does not seem to be interested in young handsome boys. Although she does not favor Confucius ' moral concept that boys and girls should not touch each other , yet she has no intention to imitate the sc cial custom here. When she sees a boy holding a girl in his arms to show his great love for her in a pu blic place, she dares not look at them more than a min u te; ot h erwise, she will feel ashamed of them. She always wonders what Confucius would th in k if he were still alive.

Infl uen ced by Confucius ' philosophy of toleration, endurance, and love, she can sit still in front of her desk for hours and write her theme word by word patiently, tolerating the great noise coming from the hall. When she is waked up at midnight by the giggling of some girls, she never gets up to g ive them warnings but covers her ears with the blankets. She thinks about that famous Chinese poet who found his life so short and dear that he dared not sleep at night and let the time slip by She remembers also that he used to hold a candle in his hand and walk around in his garden to compose his great poems. Do these girls also find their lives so short that they have no chance to use up their energy? She answers her own question and turns back to sleep. Life is short for her. She dares not waste her time in warning the others as she has a long hard road to travel.

-ELIZABETH Hsu

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WE ARE HERE to decide between the quick and the dead." So spoke Bernard Baruch at the United Nations Conference upon p resentation of his report on the control of atomic en ergy. The flicker of one small mistake stands between happiness in this world and oblivion . Who can guide us ? Can we not reach back to th e recognized minds that have gone before, to g ra sp one ray to light our way? Our primary fear is the one of making mistakes. Why do people fu mble and err? One Franciscan monk had analyzed the causes of human error. He was Roger Bacon. Let us now examine these thoughts of l ong ago and see if they can help us now.

Somewhere between the years 1210 and 1215 , in the ancient English community of Somersetshir e, was born to this world one of the greatest minds of all time. Such mind was harbored in the substance of Roger Bacon, Franciscan Monk, Philosopher , Scientist. Physically, a man of his day; spir itually, a man of our day.

Unfortunately, humanity was blind to the beliefs of Roger Bacon, was intolerant of his effo rts for the betterment of man. It is with a tinge of sa dness that I quote here from the words of H enry and Dana Lee Thomas: "He did not cause a g reat stir in the world of his contemporarie s. He was one of nature's stepchildren as judged by the yardstick of personal success. He lived to a disillusioned old age, having failed to see any of his d reams come true. And when he died no one noted the day of his passing. " But it is with an elated spirit that I here put forth: "Roger Bacon at last stan ds revealed as one of the greatest of the many men of genius born of the gifted English race: " [ W m. Romaine Newbold]. Of the ridicule he suffered, and of the injustice done to him, this summary [from Thomas' Living Biographies of Great Scientist] will well suffice: " .. . the adulation heaped upon him after his death was as ridiculous as the disrepute inflicted upon him while he lived. The living scientist had been little more than a clown; the dead 'magician' was little less than a god."

I t is not my purpose at this writing to relate all the specific ins t ances Roger Bacon was tormented by h is contemporaries because of radical ideas and actions. Let it be enough said that he was well

familiar with the touch of the inside of a prison cell. Imprisonment for him, however, changed cynical contempt to philosophical aloofness. [Thomas says of him): "Little by little the conviction grew upon him that his confinement away from the bulk of mankind was more than merely physical. It was the outward symbol of a spiritual cleavage between the man of original thought and the world of superstitious dogma. The real prisoners of life were not the thinkers whose bodies were locked behind the bars of iron, but the dogmatists whose minds were chained behind the bars of prejudice. He pitied his jailers for the confinement of their souls." He was not without some friends , however, and toward the remaining lingering days of his confinement he was permitted the privilege of talking to his pupils. He did not divulge to them his scientific secrets, but tried to make clear to his listeners his formula for peace which was to guide the human race toward a sympathetic understanding between man and his brother What a sensation of spiritual cleanliness must have been felt by this ostracized man as he said from his prison window :

I believe that humanity shall accept as an axiom for its conduct the principle for which I have laid down my life-the right to investigate. It is the credo of free men - this opportunity to try, this privilege to err, this courage to experiment anew. We scientists of the human spirit shall experiment, experiment, ever experiment. Through centuries of trial and error , through agonies of research. . . Let us experiment with laws and customs, with money systems and governments, until we chart the one true course-until we find the majesty of our proper orbit as the planets above have found theirs. . And then at last we shall move all together in the harmony of our spheres under the great impulse of a single creation--one unity, one system, one design.

It is a remarkable and awesome thing to think about. This mind of Roger Bacon. He might have been of this, the twentieth century, instead of the thirteenth century. In speaking of the age in which Bacon lived, William Romaine Newbold says, "In that age Bacon lived, but he was not of it. He belonged rather to our own time." Again, I say it is a remarkable and almost eerie thing to think about'. Each time the full impact of what Roger Bacon saw comes to my mind, I am astounded anew. I can only wonder. I call him a genius.

The Opus Majus of Roger Bacon. A rather

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stuffy-sounding book, but rather a book of sound stuff. It is from this volume of knowledge, written for Pope Clement IV, who never received it, with the consequence of the manuscript being lost for four hundred and fifty years, that I extract Bacon's four basic "Causes of Error," or, as stated in his message to the Pope: " ... there are four chief obstacles in grasping truth, which hinder every man, however learned, and scarcely allow any one to win a clear title to learning, namely, submission to faulty and unworthy authority, influence of custom, popular prejudice, and concealment of our own ignorance accompanied by an ostentatious display of our knowledge."

Roger Bacon knew the frailties of the human species. He also knew that without these four errors, there was hope for man. Let us now view these obstacles to unity as applied to our day, our international problems, our chance of life, our destruction.

One of our pressing international crises is the use of ·atomic energy. One almost automatically attaches a question mark behind "atomic bomb" -there is that much dubiety present. How much does the world actually know about this latest invention of man? How much do they know about the bomb that is actual truth, with no deviations? Very little. Why is this so? It is because people are submitted to "faulty and unworthy authority." Theoretically, a free press exists. But actually it is not so There are editors who are prejudiced. They must print what they feel is right, must print what their readers like to read, must print according to the interests of their particular political parties. Therefore, what is read? Nothing but a mass of popular prejudice. How very true are Bacon's words on authority and prejudice when viewed in the light of the findings of a group of thirteen men bent on answering the question, "How free is the 'freest press in the world'?" This committee of men, which was made up of the most outstanding personages of this country, spent three years and $215,000 on the project. They reported after being amazed at what they had seen: "These agencies ( newspapers, magazines) can facilitate thought and discussion. They can stifle it. They can debase and vulgarize mankind. They can endanger the peace of the world; they can do so accidentally, in . a fit of absence of mind. The press must be free ( of influences, unworthy of authority) because it is a condition of

its veracity, and its veracity is its good faith with the total record of the human spirit."

What would Bacon have done after deliberatmg the misuse of the press of our time? I believe he would have simply said, "Educate the mind." He believed in "power through knowledge." He believed that man's only salvation from the evil of warped prejudice was to prefer "the opinions of the wise to popular prejudice."

But of the mpst evil of Bacon's "Causes of Errors" is the last. The concealment of ignorance Of this vice Bacon says:

For this ( concealment of ignorance) is an extraordinary wild beast, devouring and destroying all reason, namely, the desire to appear wise, by which every man is influenced. For however little and worthles s our knowledge we nevertheless extol it; we publish abroad much of which we are ignorant, where we can hide our ignorance, making a clever display that w e may glory over nothing. Matters of which we ar e ignorant, where we cannot make a display of our knowledge, we slight, find fault with, abuse, and bring to naught, that we may not seem ignorant of any matter, glossing over our ignorance like a woman with her finery and meretricious coloring, a foul remedy. Hence we banish by this route from ourselve s and from others what is most useful, important, full of every grace, and stable in its nature. This bane , moreover, in addition to its inherent harmfulnes s reaches the crowning point in its own baseness from the fact that it is the beginning and the source of th e three causes of error ....

How many strutting peacocks are there in thi s world? The number is not a few, and the harmful things done more than a few. For each time a falsity is transmitted, it is doubled, until the truth is beyond recognition. As a way of determinin g the truth, as a way of seeing through struttin g peacocks, Bacon offers this, " ... we can conside r whether the sacred writers and other learne d men displayed certain evidences of human imperfection, in which whether affirmed or denied we should not imitate them without consideration. " We must not accept without questioning. We must dare to question, dare to doubt. Thoma s states: "Nothing that deserved inquiry escape d him." How true! He even dared to doubt th e words of Aristotle! Why cannot we, today, doub t the words of the men in "the know"? I repeat, we must not accept without questioning. For thos e men _ in "the know~'__might be strutti.rig peacocks , men who are concealing their ignorance with a fine outlay of glittering words. And if we believe those words, we may be under "much evil influence" which, in turn, might lead us to chaos. Roger Bacon dared to assert his opinion. He [ 14]

ha d the courage of his convictions. He knew that "enquiry should begin with the simplest objects of science, and rise gradually to the higher and higher." In science, spiritual and physical, his mind left the thirteenth century behind In the words of Denis Diderot [ eighteenth century French philosopher J, he (Roger Bacon) was "one of the most surprising geniuses that nature had ever produced, and one of the most unfortunate of men. " Bacon's philosophy of "Man is not made for nature, but nature is made for man" coulq be one of the arguments that atomic energy is a blessing. His urging that humanity observe things, exp eriment wi th them, watch the reaction of hum anity to them, and their reaction to humanity , could not be m9re applicable than to the series of atom bomb tests conducted by our governments.

In framing the laws for the control of the atomic bomb , these words of Bacon should surely be ri nging throughout the world: " ... laws must be framed in accordance with which in all causes and cases justice may be shown and the cases closed, so that peace and justice may be fostered among citizens." Think about that-"so that peace and justice may be fostered among citizens." D oesn't that ring to a familiar tune? What are th e peoples of the world crying for today? Peace and justice. We can have peace and justice, security an d mutual love. We can have all that if we will use Bacon's four "Causes of Errors" in reverse. He held hope for the world, as do I. As do many others who have the faith to hope. Who

have the courage to doubt. Who have love for mankind, love for Him, love for life

If the people of this nation and other nations could be spared the faulty and unworthy authority of the Bilbos, McKellars, and other petty men in positions of influence, there would be less to fear. When in turn these men are guided by bigots and masses of personal prejudices, are influenced by custom, it is frightening to contemplate ·the impending errors confronting us. Objectivity in thinking must guide our selection of those in whom we will place our trust. Let us hope that clear thinkers were responsible for the appointment of Mr. Lilienthal. He, as the guiding hand, must be free from obstacles to truth. For it is only truth that will achieve our full freedom from fear.

Roger Bacon realized, beyond a doubt, what the consequences of power, human and scientific, would be, placed in the hands of those bearing faulty and u nworthy authority, those who hid their ignorance behind an offensive display of knowledge. This is proven by the concealment of his formula for gunpowder in cipher in his manuscripts. He feared that his secret "might fall into the hands of those who would do harm with so powerful an invention. It requires, he said, not only ingenuity but intelligence to employ the principles of science to human advantage." If humanity, today, can find the way to place authority in the right hands, man will have taken a long stride toward peace and security, toward that ultimate, uplifting aspiration of one world united.

-DOROTHY TOOLE.