Newspapers / Mars Hill University Student … / April 7, 1956, edition 1 / Page 21
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n A/T a rrli Mi ■ Hi'11 r^Hpo-P ±Ji For the month of Ms -Art Deoartment is shoiLj XXX ace oseimds She was a very little girl and few of the bustling late-evening shop pers noticed her standing quietly beside her mother before the dis play of handkerchiefs. Her dress was clean if worn, and her hair was neatly braided and tied with bows. A casual observer would suppose that mother and child were from a family of ordinary means with per haps only a few more difficulties than most families. The mother was appraising a pile of men’s handkerchiefs on sale. The child saw another handkerchief, tiny, edged with dainty pink lace and embroidered with rosebuds. It was not a thing most children would want; yet it awakened within her soul an unnamed longing to possess a thing of beauty for itself alone. "Twelve Handkerchiefs for One I>ollar. A Bargain.” "One Handkerchief for a Dollar. Handmade Imported Lace.” The two signs were designed to attract customers of all types; rich or poor, extravagant or thrifty, see ing or blind. A hoDe was suddenly conceived within the childish heart. It grew Nancy Hayes Few, if any of the busy crowd rushing home to supper took note as mother and child left the store. And none saw into the heart of pain through the hungering eyes fastened upon a tiny mass of pink until the door swung shut to blot it out. Not Wanted (Continued from Page 16) throw off suddenly our European customs and become Burmese in habit, dress, and sentiment over night? That was ridiculous for any one to expect of us, but everyone did. Though I speak Burmese like a native, I can no longer bargain with the shopkeepers or chatter with the children playing in the court; everywhere I am greeted with hostile looks. Now this hostility has brought a crisis to our lives. Daddy had worked for the govern ment since I was a baby. He was an agricultural inspector under the British and had been reappointed as a civil servant under the new re gime. Mother has just told me that Daddy has lost his job to an influ ential Burman. There is no future for us here. We are to leave for Australia in two weeks on a ship that will be filled with people like I'S—people without a country. A golden sunset fills the city with a warm glow. I can see the Shue Dagon pagoda in the distance; its gold-leafed shrine is crowned with the richer gold of the sun. From the tower of a mosque nearby a crier is calling all good Moslems to prayer. The people are peaceful. Isn t it strange how your little world can completely fall apart, while the worlds of those so near to you are completely undisturbed? I am to leave soon, and though I shall never again hear the mosaue crier or the swift patter of the feet of the rick shaw puller, life will go on here as though nothing had happened. But life will go on for me too Life is a never-ending stream of joys and sor rows, heartache and elation, A storm came and the quiet stream of my life became turbulent. I pray that in a new land the stream may flow peacefully again. HILLTOP—PAGE TWENTY Tlie Cjdfegtl and grew and in one moment of sudden courage was born into a word, a question. The mother nodded absently and waited for the clerk to come. The child could scarcely still her heart for over and over again its beating said, "It’s mine. It’s mine. It’s mine.” At last a clerk appeared. The mother handed her a bill and reached over the counter to grasp— twelve hankerchiefs, and not the one of lace. The beating heart did not die; it did not die completely, for young hearts are always strong. Yet some small part of it would never again be able to nourish hope or give it birth. Well, here I am, aflxploring was utes late, too ... I l‘e other boys ; aunt anywhere . . . Sb home. The r meet me here at 10:30atains of Maryl the right place—infori\nd West Virgi first floor, Thalhimer B)ne caves. On The entire population nd on other fr turned out today foie into a truck shopping ... I don’t 1 a cave. Son though . . . Surely, tramp rhrou season of more generouSeks and rivers Hope I get a lot this yd and likely lo( that mouton coat I wailiffs of old q\ there’s Agnes—that gii'e location of to be in my homerooin)ook in the pi Has she ever gotten fat!>ts the locatic that with her? ... I rc^ve in the sta face . . . Oh, I remembalso contains s name’s Helen . . . Nifexploring is, didn’t know her ... She mountain c hair color again. ; it is inside t There goes one of we came laden down with bundle* thirty feet, s der whom he’s playing Sreams, and ve Glad it isn’t me . . . some of th a bore . . . Where is my formations su( be her watch has stopp®^^8™it^os, flo thing . . . Her presents id cave coral, worth waiting for, thoibommer we vi here comes To Ann Mill^^^^e differei in the world is that drif^foe trips to . . . He must be seven ^^ck of equi That nose! . . . And huoave of its si; glasses ... I never thoD’ is a twenty a cute girl like To Ann si'f descended b like that . . . Oh, horro-^^ ^ narrow n introduced him to that 'lot of hard, m her brother . . . How di^ihed another p manage to get in the saf’Ok there bee . . . Where is she?? . . at the first to leave in just about returned w What is it? Who, or rascended both is that pile of fur undef of the secor strous looking h^t! TasP explo where hast thou fled! .. ‘S through tl ing around now . . . Oh came tc it’s my own dear aunt! • format! -r'rr of the pa Dot WiLTSHvith a hi^h the passage >ac; so we eek we w O for the ships that ride xploring t Or more, the wind that o mapped free; e. Within my soul, that’s howling throe If with my hands I’d fasbig them h; ,/1‘ving as an tauyiiE r mi. hnn of nm trumpeter
Mars Hill University Student Newspaper
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April 7, 1956, edition 1
21
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