N^orth
I Colh
?“taix
in Business TInsnatchable
m y' fourteen years old, my
J *^o the moon was an ex-
ivhich I shall take with me
ing oveiit life, jg
that sht age is most impression-
in to go the trip was something
brought; ordinary. When one of
Ellen as who was quite wealthy
of a slight chance that his
have to^ht let him take a guest on
aned to the moon, I put
, but out of my mind with
or too st^^oeration because I doubt-
> would ever happen; how-
^e begun' .^^^oths later, I was seek-
ice then^^^^^°'^ ftom my parents to
id with f ^tiy and night on a
e eyes. ^ o^oon. After securing
Kay Madison
-j
really
)out it
A hant
her inn
;d at travel to our closest
^ns an experience in itself,
and ^ inside of the
: be hot. f before, but I never had
1 X\/r\nU 1 t
worry
jL ilcvwj. ixav^
^ould have the oppor-
girl haStelv^ f ^ ^
first id^wirK^^n ^^ip
th all the latest ultra-
' ^nnons. Although we were
J in a practically vertical
ty whickenH ^inios, I could not tell it.
s to co^ide o?
the petk;„ ^bip was connect-
1 makes theS °nter layers of
‘,i «ine
What is fog? Yes, it is a cloud
like mass of minute globules of
water, but just how can fog be
summarized? How can it be
handled as a substance? Fog is an
evasive little creature—so evasive
that one has no control over its be
havior!
Fog does exist. One knows that.
It is a shunning material. It dodges
and baffles a person. It emanates
from nowhere; it disintegrates into
nowhere. It disappears suddenly,
but where goes the formerly opaque
existence?
Can fog be a mirage? One never
holds fog. One sees fog, but it dis
appears as one approaches. Is it an
illusion? Perhaps it is, or is it pos-
' sible that fog is just a vaporish
nymph instigated by fanciful imag
ination?
Let us state facts. Fog is mod
erately wet. It is found in the at
mosphere, on one’s glasses, and in
some minds. It is odorless and has
a humid, untangible existence. It
that I swin'“^"’-compartmeni
= “yAmost fevd
‘b fo^neinp atom-pow
*Jagki
ROE
E Powers
can be stifling and suffocating.
This questionable existence is
hard to lay hold upon, or, shall we
say, unsnatchable. It is a powerful
existence. It controls the vision and
human activities at times. Yes, it is
opaque and trouble-making, but
what can a person do about the sit
uation? The human race truly is a
victim of fog’s mischievous ways.
Have you ever tried a game of
grapple with fog? You run, you
leap, and you grapple. What? You
did not catch it? Where did that
elusive little obscurity of a cloud
go? Oh, you say you can’t retain it
in your hand? For shame. Now
you have let that little bit of
opaqueness slip through your fin
gers. You haven’t caught it yet?
Well, that is inevitable, because you
will never catch the little nymph!
Yes, fog does exist in the atmos
phere, on the glasses, and in some
minds. It is odorless and unsnatch
able. It is baffling and shunning.
In more ways than one does a per
son seem to have a touch of this
obscurity when he endeavors to de
fine this darkened state, whether it
be in the atmosphere or on the
cerebellum!
Lost In FirC'^Pldij
snt, for neinp „ ' atom-pow-
into knn smooth that I
n life tbeven ° k taken
giarif and ir
ents asPsee thm because I
ut I h%at T ^ telescopic wm-
:d thatfove. we were on
ly indo^'ina u tio strain in
recisiofl ^as compart-
but u% motor
; will br the sh;f oxygen—
a to rri^hich ^ P fot our oxygen
in’s ci^i be used later,
popular^ontinued to Page 18)
tst; unfl
his sh^
A poet loses himself in the fire-play
Of a candle gleaming in a darkened room
Until the fire becomes words
And the words become fire
And lambent flames play on the tarnished dre^.
—Shirley Oakes
Path To The Qoal
- « * t t
Within the dismal blackness of my melancholy tnhid.
Where saddening thoughts are born and kept, I find
That, though my heart is saddened—rooted deep in this dark sod,
It struggles upward, outward toward its God.
And when, in simple blessings’ soft remembrance, I am glad.
Content in the assurance I have had
A part in coaxing to some childish face a joyous smile.
My heart is closer drawn to God the while
On, onward! Ever farther must thou reach and grasp, my soul;
And joy and peace await thee at thy Goal.
Faith, love, and hope; these mark the path Christ tr^;
Through sadness, joy, or chilling storm I
HILLTOP—PAGE SEVENTEEN
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