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CARTERET COUNTY NEWS-TIMES
Carter* CiMt/i N?w>p?|Mr
EDITORIALS TUESDAY, DECEMBER 90, 1958
'Resplendent Dawn'
Robert Lee Humber yesterday made
hi* 18th annual report in Beaufort on
the World Federation Movement.
At the close of a year, one glances
backward as well as forward. Fifteen
years ago, an editorial on Mr. Humber's
report appeared in The Beaufort News,
Miss Amy Muse, editor. The editorial,
pertinent today, follows:
Some seventy years ago, Gough
wrote, "It is the minority that have
stood in the van of every moral con
flict, and achieved all that is noble in
the history of the world."
For two years now we have had the
privilege of listening to Robert Lee
Humber make his Annual Report on
the World Federation Movement be
fore the small group of humble citizens
here who were present'when the Move
ment was launched three years ago.
Each meeting has been characterized
by simplicity, but each time we have
felt strangely that we were having a
part in something significant.
World law in a world order pattern
ed after our own union of states is Mr.
Humber's theme. It is not given as an
absolute panacea for all the evils of
the world but as a stabilizing influence
the world needs.
There have been times in our own
union when the principal of law has
met with difficulties; there have been
Huey Longs, there has been organ
ized gangsterism, seventy odd years
ago we even had a Civil War, but after
160 years, law is still on top, and all
those who listened to Mr. Humber
Wednesday afternoon caught some
thing of his faith in a "resplendent
dawn in the history of mankind" when
there will be a world order and world
law.
Happy New Year
As the years go by, as age begins to
assert itself, many look upon a new
year with the same reluctance as they
do another birthday. Another door has
closed, they say, and they find them
selves pushed nearer that state where
they feel old and useless.
But youth, ah, that is different. To
be young and carefree, they say . . .
and if they were only 20 years younger,
then life would be worth living.
Human beings have many failings.
Though we have the power of memory
we tend to remember, as the years
pass, only the pleasures we have
known. Tragedies and disaster are re
called, but they are not tucked away
in memory and later pulled out to be
dwelt upon with pleasure.
And youth is carefree and has no
worries? Almost everyone can recall,
if he tries, the fear he felt as a child
when he committed an act his parents
specifically warned him against. In
school it was worry about "passing",
in adolescent years the agony of get
ting a date for the special super-duper
dance. Six or sixty, there is no "care
free" age.
1969 is another year, but it is a prate
swinging open, not a door closing. It is
not a year in which each one of us will
merely age or one in which the oldest
of us will find nothing but misery in
being pushed out of the swim of things.
As long as a human being lives, there
is a need for him here. When he be
gins to believe he is of no use, only
then will he actually become useless,
for he thinks only of himself.
1959, as any new year, offers the
opportunity to put to use that vast
amount of experience accumulated in
the years that went before. Why shun
the opportunity?
Wishing others a "Happy New
Year" is not a trite and empty senti
ment. But making the wish come true
lies mainly with the recipient of the
greeting. And he who wants to make
this new year a happy one is most like
ly to experience it as such.
The Poet Laureate
(From Greensboro Daily News)
Most of the news stories and edi
torials on the death of Alfred Noyes,
poet laureate of England, emphasized
the popularity of his poem, The High
wayman.
Certainly it was popular. Back in
the days when schools had annual
"declamation and recitation" contests
? the boys declaimed and the girls re
cited ? The Highwayman was a fav
orite. "The highwayman came riding,
came riding; the highwayman came
riding," we remember those dramatic
lines to this day.
No one will ever know how many
young ladies committed the rollicking
ballad to memory and delivered it, with
appropriate gestures, before judges ?
and to the delight of audiences that
loved - something familiar.
But for our taste The Barrel Organ
was Alfred Noyes' best. The other
night we got down our old Modern Ly
rics, carefully saved from the seventh
grade, to see how that poem went It
begins: "There's a barrel organ carol
ing across the golden street, in the city
as the sun sinks low . . ."
The poet uses the movie technique
of focusing on various people who are
making their way home as the barrel
organ grinds and "La Traviata sighs
another sadder song" and "II Trova
tore cries a tale of deeper wrong."
But the part that used to stir the
blood wts these swinging lines of the
refrain, printed in italic :
Come down to Kew in lilac time, in
lilac time, in lilac time;
Come down to Kew in lilac time (it
isn't far from London!) ;
And you shall wander hand in hand
with love in Summer's wonder
land,
Come down to Kew in lilac time (it
isn't far from London !) ,
An even greater favorite in Modern
Lyrics was Sea Fever by John Mase
field. Reciting it, you could almost
feel the spray hitting you in the face.
In case we'd forgotten, it's easy to
tell the poems we learned by the pages
darkened from much handling by
sweaty fingers. Jest 'Fore Christmas
by Eugene Fields ia one. The Soldier
by Rupert Brooke is another ? "If I
should die, think only this of me ; That
there's some corner of a foreign field
That ia forever England." So was the
first one in the book, Memory by
Thomas Bailey Aldrich, which is 10
lines long and all one sentence, and
begins with the famous, "My mind lets
go a thousand things like dates of
wars and deaths of kings . .
Significantly the page most be
grimed, and the volume practically
falls open to it, bears the poem Books
by Emily Dickinson. We can hear it
now, as one after another seventh
grader stood up and struggled to say:
There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry . . .
Carteret County News-Tim?s
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PIKSS ASSOCIATION AWABDS
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b; >lwwlwfi $7.00 cm y?r, $100 dx
DO YOU RtAUlt ? ?
DUMN& THC
SPUTNIK AMD >
smce agc /
OUK NATIONAL \
SECURITY \
BUDGET HAS \
BEEN IHCREASEPl
BY !
-OUT
PURIN6
THAT 5AME
PERIOD or
"TIME ?
Merry
By E. J. HITTER JR.
He wis ? small white dog of no
particular breed and no remark
able beauty. He waa cold, and to
day he walked a little lame from
the weariness of his Journey.
His name was Beat-It. At least,
everyone called him that. But he
knew it was not a real name, for
he had never belonged to anyone.
And belonging. Beat-It knew, was
that proper state of doghood that
Involved a master, a home, and
a name.
Except for those few weeks in
the spring when he had lived with
hit mother in the packing case
where he had been born, Beat-It
had been alone. Beat-It missed his
mother when first she disappeared,
and he searched the alleys and
the streets, whimpering a little,
for days. But soon the problems
of eating and finding shelter, and
dodging kicks and traffic, drove
her from his mind until now she
was forgotten.
When it began to grow eold,
Beat-It became strangely restless
and lonely. One day he heard about
the Star.
Two boys on a street corner
talked about it first. It was hard
for Beat-It to understand every
thing they said. But he did realire
that in a few days a wonderful
transformation would occur in the
world that would make each man
love his neighbor more, and show
kindliness o< spirit which was often
concealed on other days through
out the year. There would be ting
ing, and friendliness, and giving
of gifts. A symbol would be the
Star.
Beat-It did not quite understand
about the Star? where it would
shine ? or Just when. And there was
no one to tell him. He only knew
he would have to find the Star, or
the wonderful time might pass
without his knowing it had been.
But ia the city, the buildings hid
the sky. 60 Beat-It headed for the
country, scanning the heavens for
the one SUr that would shine so
brightly that be would know, "That
is the one!" On he ran along the
open roads and across the fields
through the towns dotting the way.
He slept by day and ran by night,
searching the sky for the light
that would tell him the time had
come.
Had it not been for the voices,
he might have given up. Always
they whispered to him? In the
wind, "Go on and find the Star."
And on Beat-It went, footsore, be
draggled, his coat matted with
mud and burrs, his brown eyes on
the night sky, his ear listening to
the voices in the wind.
And then there came a cold
night, the coldest Beat-It had
known. It was snowing, and there
were ao stars overhead at all. Ex
haustion filled his legs, cold blan
keted his thin white body.
Suddenly the urging voice that
was In the wind stopped. The galea
still blew, but Beat-It no longer
heard the words, "Go on!" The
new silence frightened him. He
felt alone and lost.
To his right, Just off the road,
a light filtered dimly through the
snow. limping toward it, Beat-It
?aw a small white house. Beside
it yawned the open door of an un
painted shed into which be dragged
himself, and he collapsed in the
corner out of the (reeling, snow
swept night. And there he fell
asleep
It was a strange sound that
awakened him to the pate dawn
of a new day. A little boy, filling
? wood box from a sUck of fire
wood before him, was sobbing
heartbreak into the frosty air.
Always before, Beat-It had fled
from humans. He knew the sharp
pain of stones flying from the
hand* of little boys. But now he
was not afraid. Curiosity, toUrest,
and a warm, unknown emotion
Hooded his small franc.
Beat-It gathered hla safe stiff
muscles and stood up. He shook
himself and barked.
The dark, boyish head turned
toward the corner. The sobs broke
off In a gasp. Then, slowly, the
boy stretched his hand and rested
it on the bedraggled white head.
It was the first time Beat-It had
ever felt a caress. It was the first
time he had ever been touched
with tenderness and love. His tail
wagged wildly; his pink tongue
darted over the grubby hand; his
heart was filled with a bursting
ecstasy.
Beat-It was suddenly gathered
into two young arms. Two swift
feet dashed through the snow and
carried dog and boy into the white
house.
"Oh, Mother! Mother! Santa did
come? he didn't forget me after
all! He brought me a dog? a white
dog with funny ears and a long
tail. Only Santa made a mistake
and left him in the shed instead
of in the house!"
The tired face of the woman
standing in the kitchen was star
tled, doubtful? then it softened.
"I can keep him, Mother, can't
I? He won't eat much? see how
little he is? And I'll clean him up
and brush him every day, and
we'll have such good times to
gether! And he likes me, Mother
truly he does. I'U call him Merry,
because it's such a Merry Christ
mast"
"All he'll get will be scraps."
The woman's voice was hesitant,
but the look on her face was a
prayer of thanks for a little boy
saved from Christmas heartbreak.
"He looks awfully tired," she said.
"Of course, Mother! It's a long
way from the North Pole, even in
Santa's sled."
Her worn, rough hand was gentle
as it touched the dog's bruised
paws. "He must have done most
of the pulling. Well? he's probably
hungry. I'll see what I can find."
She disappeared through the pan
try door.
Beat-It, whose new name was
Merry, put his small white head
on the little boy's knee and gazed
up in adoration? into the eyes in
which he saw the warm, bright
brilliance of the Star.
?Sunshine Magazine
Stamp News
By 8TD EXONISH
The Republic of China has com
memorated the 10th anniversary
of United States aid in rural con
struction work on Formosa by is
suing four new stamps. This is the
first time a foreign government
bas issued a stamp honoring a
IIS aid program.
The four stamps are identical
in design but range in price from
20 cents to $3 in Chinese currency.
Featured is a Chinese farmer
plowing with a water buffalo.
The background shows a com
bined land and aea scapc high
lighting a railroad and rural elec
trification line. A fishing boat is
offshore.
The Sino-American Joint Com
mission on Rural Reconstruction
works primarily in the field of
agricultural development be' it
also has programs in land reform,
rural health, fisheries and educa
tion.
Ike Philippines has issued a new
5 cent stamp to mark the inaugu
ration ?f the newly reconstructed
Manila Cathedral in Intramuros.
The Cathedral forms the central
deaign.
Once a Year
How seldom Christmas comes ?
only once a year; and how soon
it is over? a night and a day! If
that is the whole of it, it seems
not much more durable than the
little toys that one buys of a fakir
on the street corner. They run for
an hour, and then the spring
breaks, and the legs come off, and
nothing remains but a contribution
to the dust heap.
But surely that need not and
ought not be the whole of Christ
mas? only a single day of generos
ity, ransomed from the dull aervi
tude of a selfish year? only a sin
gle night of merry-making,, cele
brated in the slave-quarters of ?
selfish race!
If every gift is the token of a
personal thought, a friendly feel
ing, an unselfish interest in the
joys of others, then the thought,
the feeling, the interest, may re
main long after the gift ii for
gotten.
?Henry Van Dyke
Smile a While
The two Waves were being fol
lowed by a lone sailor.
Finally one of the gals could
stand the suspense no longer, and
turning to the sailor, ordered:
"Either quit following us or get
another sailor."
? USCG Magazine
As the salesman signed the reg
ister in the Mississippi hotel lobby,
he noticed a mosquito crawling
across the register.
"I've been in a lot of hotels," he
said, "and I've seen a lot of mos
quitos, but this is the first time
they ever came down to see which
room I was getting."
. r* *rwa
Words of Inspiration
YOUR JUNK BEAT
Junk something every day, luiiuti a philosopher Junk your (can.
Junk your worries, Junk your anxieties, junk your Jealousies, envies, and
hatreds. Whatever interferes with your getting up and getting oa in
the world . . . Junk it!
Every night before you go to sleep, put upon the Junk heap all your
disappointments, all your grudges, your revengeful feelings, your malice.
Junk everything that is hindering you from becoming a strong, vibrant
person. The trouble with most of us is that we have no Junk heap of
this sort. We pull all our discouragements, our loaaes, our troubles, and
worries and trials along with us. That consumes more than SO per cent
of our vitality and energy, so that we have only the smaller amount left
for the great talk of making a life a success.
EACH DAY
To those who live in never ending fear
Of what may come with every passing year,
I, in blissful ignorance, pause to say,
"If I can live the life that comes each day,
And bravely face its share of Joy and sorrow,
Then I will be content to wait, and never fear tomorrow."
Every day is a little life, and our whole life is but a day repeated.
Therefore live every day as if it would be the last. Those that dare Tom
a day are dangerously prodigal; those that dare misspend it are de?
perate. ? HalJ
BETTER TO HAVE POOR BILLFOLD THAN POOR SOUL
A greater poverty than that caused by lack of money is the poverty of
unawareness. Men and women go about the world unaware of the beau
ty, the goodness, the glories in it. Tbeir souls are poor. It is better to
have a poor pocketbook than to suffer from a poor soul.
? Thomas Dreier
QUOTES
Live one day at a time. You can plan for tomorrow nnd hope for
the future, but don't live in it. Live this day well, and tomorrow's
strength will come tomorrow.
If you blow out another man's candle, it will not light your own.
Character is what a man is while on vacation.
Be not simply good ... be good for something.
The only preparation for tomorrow is the right use of today.
"When wealth is lost, nothing is lost;
When health is lost, much is lost;
When character is lost, all is lost."
? German Proverb
The most delightful persons we know arc those who are both wise
and gay.
Nothing ages men more . . . actually shortens their lives . . . that
helpless and hopeless adherence to the belief that they are old and do
crepit. The will to live and to do is the greatest asset which any mat
may carry into old age.
Some philosophers have even said that old age is largely a matte)
of will.
From the Bookshelf
Word* Are Stones: Impressions
of Sicily. By Carlo Levi. Translated
from Italian by Angus Davidson.
Farrar, Straus and Cudahy. $3.73.
Gale to The Sea. By Bryber. Pan
theon. $2 75.
From nearby places rich with
an abundant historical store, both
these writers? Levi the Italian in
essays and Bryher the English
woman in a short novel ? draw
from the past unexpectedly com
parable lessons that are pertinent
to the present.
Three of Levi's articles are col
lected In this book about Sicily?
a quick hop across the lower Tyr
rhenian Sea from Bryher's ancient
Paestum. He writes about the visit
of former New York Mayor Impel
littert to his Sicilian birthplacc,
and then his own trip to some
struck sulphur mines; about the
Mt. Etna region; and finally about
Captain l-Unry ?
Sou'easter
Aren't the Christmas decorations
pretty?
Some friends took us to ride the
other night just to see them. In
the middle of the 400 block of
Pollock Street is a most unusual
Christmas scene.
Pictures from the life of Christ
are illuminated with colored lights
and the oblong arrangement is
topped with a star.
Of course, the little tree on
Pivers Island is back again this
year, glittering in air and water.
Don't know why I get such a boot
(we used to say "kick") out of
seeing that tree, but I always look
for it. It's like welcoming an old
friend back year after year.
Over in Morehead City, the Car
teret-Craven people have their
electric star up on the radio tower.
Most of the churches have nativ
ity scenes. Dave and Jerry Bev
eridgc, in Hancock Park, like the
prancing of tiny hooves on their
roof. Santa is in his sled with the
reindeer you-know-where.
David sayi he has to tie up the
Beveridge every Christmas season
because Jerry take*, all his line to
use for reindeer reins.
You folks who received pearls
for Christmas might ponder on
this comment from Mrs. Horace
Havemeyer, 19th century Ameri
can art collector: "I prefer to
have something made by man than
to have something made by an
oyster."
Before I'm with you again, a new
year will be here. 1958 had its ups
and downs, but it could have been
worse. The first mate and I came
through rather well. I hope that
1999 sees all your fondest dreams
come true.
You, yourself, help those dreams
along a little bit, and they will I
m THE GOOD OLD D?TS
THIRTY YEARS AGO
Four traffic accident! killed four'
Carteret County men during the
Christmas holidays.
Fire crackers popped all Christ
mas Day, despite the weather
which was northwest wind and a
drizzling rain.
Beaufort bad ? community
Omrtmu tree for the second year.
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO
Charles W. Thomas Jr. of Till
sonburg. Ontario, Canada, had
been made vice-president of the
company for which he worked.
Th* marshes in the county were
to be drained. Tbe 230 men used
in this project would bring the
number o ( people working oa fed
eral projects ?? no.
, ???(,?* ,
TEN TEAM AGO
Dr. L. A. Eakin, chiropractor,
had opened offices in Morehead
City.
W. E. Adair of Beaufort had
started conatniction and remodel
ing of the house next to his home,
and would make it a funeral home.
Heavy aeas off Cape Hatteras
broke the Argentine tanker. El
Capitan, oa Sunday.
FIVE TEAM AGO
Food and clothing were given
a More head City family whoae
home waa destroyed by fire Christ
mas Day.
The March of Dime* would open
tU drive this waak.
the Mafia killing of the peasan
leader Salvatore Carnevale.
Levi's people, however poor the]
were, recognized the author a
"Christ Stopped at Eboll." Conse
quently they talked to him (reel/
He appreciates that they are ac
customed to want and hardshi(
but not resigned.
He records the trip, petty but
triumphant, too, of New York's
mayor; he -gives a stunning ac
count of Carnevale's brutal mur
der, and the way the heroic mo
ther learns of the tragedy that has
struck her home.
Bryher rolls time back to the
fourth century B.C. when the bar
barian Lucanians have enslaved
the civilized Greeks of Paestum
in Magna Graecia? photos of the
ancient center's majestic ruins il
lustrate the text.
Their priestess Harmonia re
mains faithful to them and to their
goddess Hera, but sees little hope
for the future. Her brother Archias
has gone mad and may no longer
be alive; the aged Lykos and his
wife Phila will be "ucky if they
can get the poison hemlock to take
them out of their misery.
But the missing Greek leader
returns and the story concerns the
flight of a desperate band to thef
shore and the ship that can set
them free.
Almost two and a half miller*
iurns separate the materials thai
are of primary interest to thesl
writers? Bryher the remote paj
which has inspired other books
hers, and Levi the immediate
crushing and inescapable present
You will read them here again f<*
the unique virtues already f am ilia*
to you, but there ia more.
He writes about Italians in whi
was once a part of Greece, at
about Greeks in what haa now b<
come Italy, and they draw ainsils
morals and depict similar charai
ten.
Change was brewing in Sicil
while Levi collected the incident
for this book, as it was, too, 1
the Paestum of the Greeks an
Lucanians.
In Catania, Levi noticed the
Greek nature of the people, the
presistent Greek tradition and
even, he suspected, the contloua-t
tion of age-old modes of speech.
The oppressor, an industrialist
in the 2Mb Century, was a vic
torious lord or noble ia Paestum;
and as the Injured child was pen
alized for his injury by the modern
mine-owner, the injured slave was
due to lose his life when he lost
his useful! ness.
Tbe peoples of olden times as
well as today looked to a higher
power, god or goddess, for succor.
And all of them together had as
their food goal the "freedom and
equality" which helped to expUfo,
as the welcoming Italians told Im
peilitteri, his own great personal
successes In the New World.
? W. G. Rogers
Speaking straight from the shoul
der ia okay ? but be sore It orig
inate a little hither up.
?The Canter
... ^ - sm