Page two COLUMNS November 25, 1943 COLUMN VOLUMK HI N'UMBKR 2 Published by Louihucro Coi-lbge STUDtnsTs eight times during the collegiate year STAFF Composing Editor-in-Chief (in absentia) Eatc.v Hoi.den Acting editor-in-chief Mary EijzABfrrn Midyette Associate editor Charlotte Usher Managing editor Barbara Thorhon Assistant managing editor Mariam Shearin News editor MiiJ>Rrai Parks Assistant nei/M editors Marcki.ij: Kiko, IloBi'atT Wiixii'wu Literary editor Edna Moye Feature editors Vivian Ciu:ech. Arneta Joynek Hxchange editor Ei.iZAi»nii Harris Sports reporters Lucy L»;e Braxton, FRta) Davis Religious reporter Maroahct Ann Hughes Social reporter Virginia Ann Goi»ton Assistant social reporter Tiixy Eakes Bt:siNi'>(s Business majiager Biu.y Lewis Make-up manager Ruth Pegram! Assistant make-up managers Mary L«; Hodges, Joyce Mft.kinh Photographic manager Bob Brown Circulatirm managers Saiiah Bam., Douoi.as Bryant Copy reader Mary Strowd Ward 1‘roof readers IJOROTIIY Harris, Annk WnmriiEAD P}iiMOND Harrison Typists Roiiekt Andrews, Cei.ia BARKi'nT. Mahguehite Ci.ement Tai maixie Lancast1';r, King Moore Wii.i.is Subsorlptlon rates for non-residents: for colleRlate year, $1; single copy, 15c S(!UII’TUKK VERSE How beautiful ui)on the mountains are tlie feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that ])ublisheth peace! Tsaiah 52:78. Be Thanhs Givintf Kven though moat of the nations of the world today are at war, yet Americana y>auae in the midst of this turmoil to give thanka to God. Years ago the I’uritan Fathers paused in the midst of settling a new land to off(T thanks to (iod. They wore thankful for this new land in wliich they hoped to find ]>eace and freedom and therefore hap])inesa. They were searching for freedom of worship, freedom of speech, freedom of press, freedom from fear. In their dejtires they were not unlike generations before them, but perhaps they w(?re more daring and jwrsistent than any before them. Men for ages had been searching for freedom. For tliese precious freedoms the first Americana had to fight. And tiirough their brave efforts a democratic nation waa established witli the ideal of freedom for all. Today like other generations of true Americans the nation is seeking to preserve these rights — rights that men have fought for through the ages—rights that are dearer than life. Surely there is cause for national and individual thanksgiving even in this time of war: We arc part of a great democracy that has showered unique blessings upon ns. Let u^ thank (Jod for all of these. Yes, let ua thank Him even though this Thank.sgiying is a different Thanksgiving. Nations arc at war with nations. Man is fighting man. Men of America stand with, or against, other men on the battlefronts of the world. Some may hardly have time to remember that Thanksgiving ia here. Yet let ua be thankful for the worthy ideals for which they are fighting. Ixit tis, then, at this special season be in a deepened sense—thanks giving. Honesty Is More Than the Best Policy For several years now Louisburg College has offered students u service scholar-ahip to help them meet col lege expenses. Though there is a supervisor of all such work, it should never be necessary for a check to be made on the hone.sty of the stndent in his work nor his truthfulness in rejM)rting his time at work. It should not, however, l)o necessary for the work to be supervised bo closely. Boys and girls old enough to enter college should possess the traits of character that would qualify them for resjx)nsibiHty in an honorable manner. The task to be done should be faced with understanding and with the determination to make the best of the opportunity and to do the task in as effi cient a manner as {K>ssible. Sliould not each student on a service scholarship ask himself whether he has yet learned this sense of honor able responsibility in his assigned tasks. Some seem willing to accept an hour’s credit for work that has hardly taken an ounce of real energy. Certainly, giving honest measure to others will pay double dividends, giving to the task an honest measure and quality of flcn’iee and giving to the student him self the satisfaction of work well done. Only in this way can the system of student self-help honor any col lege or any student who accepts such help. Salute to Alumni in Service To former boys of Louisburg College now in service this issue of Columns is dedicated. In former years the.se boys were carefree youths on the college campus; today they are men giving them.selves in service to protect the rights and freedoms of all peoples. Many of them— . . took the khaki and the gun I Instead of cap and gown.” I By those still enjoying the college privileges that I are being denied these men in service only one just tribute can be paid—a tribute of new devotion and dedication to those high and noble values of life that make a civilization worth fighting for. Behind the fighting lines battles of far greater seriousness can be lost or won than any fought on the field of battle— the battles to establish loyalty, unselfishness, truth, and honor. It is these battles for character values that students still on college campuses can dedicate them selves to fight, and it is such battles that will best honor those in service. Grouping Pains One quarter of the college year has passed. Students, especially first-year students, have gone through a step of realization during the past few we*ks—realization by some students of just how little they have been doing. No doubt ideas have changed since the begin ning of the school term; that is, it is now' realized by a larger number than before perha[)s that there exist.« on the campus, not a playhouse but an educational institution. Some students have been disappointed in the first half-semester reports for the simple reason that many grades are surprisingly different from high school gi’adea. Since some of these stages of realization have passed, it has l>ecome an evident fact that greater effort must be exerted to obtain a grade in college than was exerted in high school to match that same grade. The ])oint of view has enlarged greatly by this time. About five w'eeks remain in thia semester. Here is a challenge to all to use these weeks to creditable advan tage and bring these firat reporta up by the ])roceas of more concentrated and more prolonged study. Stndent Interlndes A TRIP TO ORAIS A balking donkey in a crowd ed street; clanging, filled street cars; fly-covered custard and dates, sold to hungry natives as our “pea nuts, popcorn, and candies”; hun dreds of small .shoe-shine boys with their limited, dirty English : “* ! ?—* it—. Let’s go soldier—shine !” A few modern stores; the reckless hacks and cabs and their narrow misses; flies and still more flies; a madly happy French soldier telling us in excited French that Italy had just surrendered; a cool bookshop with almost empty shelves where I Iwught a book; hundreds of allied posters upon the walls; the beautiful Opera building; two small girls with whom I talked in my poor French—“Please, America Soldier—chewing gum?” (one waa six, one seven) ; lovely .so- l)histicated aloof French girls of the higher class; lack of I’eau pot able; wine shops; the smell from the door of a pharmacy mixed with the animal smell of the city; soldier natives, flies; the coolness of coming fall just before twilight—thus was Oran on the evening of September 8, 1943!—PI de CC, North Africa. 3>ea^ ^amihf Dear Mom, Please forgive me for not having written sooner. As you know, our exams have been keeping us busy. Mom, I really did study, even though I made one B, ;? f;’s, and 2 l)’s. By the way, they told me, if 1 worked harder, I could go into Phi Theta Kappa. I don’t know' what it means, but 1 bet it means 1 am making one of the highest grades. Why didn’t you tell me that Sadie Hawkins’ Day was the real stuff? We had one here, and I came out in 4F. I never have run so fast. I finally got pulled in—man, oh, man, those women folks really do know b.ow to run ! Mom, you know I didn’t know how thankful I sliould be until ])eo])le started makina; little talks around. You know' it makes me feel mighty little. It’s funny how I’m thankful for college, and at the same time colleg(> makes me more thankful for home. You know I’m always thankful for you. Mom. I’m studying trig, so hard that I’m getting equation- minded. Here are three equations that sound good; only they ain’t (I mean, aren’t) true, but I really wish they were: What ought to be = what is. What r should do = what I do. How much I need to study = how much I do study. I could give you a few more, hut that laat one has me about beat. Well, Mom, I guess I had better close and study be cause I want to make Phi Theta Kappa. Your loving married son, Willie. P. S. By married I mean I got caught and hitched by Marrying Sam. Sto*te> (Exchange Column) Don’t we all find it hard to be Christians in war times? Have you stopped to think what a student could do in regard to this task? “The Christian does his own job well. Accept your share of the disagreeable work. Maintain your own physical and mental alertness. Give yourself to your training with full devotion. That is your part in the hastening of victory.” —The Intercollegmn. Do you agree ? “The man who wrote ‘Home, Sweet Home’ must have been in college.” —Creek Pehhles, Campbell College. Here’s a wise bit of advice: “If you don’t like the impresaion you’ve made on othera here, now’s the time to start changing it.” —Greek Pehhles, Campbell College. W^ould this not apply to Louisburg College also? “Every new girl wants to feel that she is a part of Meredith and really belongs, and every old girl w'ants her to feel that way. Take part in the activities of the college and ywu will soon feel as if you alw'ays belonged.” —The Twig, Meredith College. A TRAIIS APPROACHING IM THE DISTANCE A man, a crouching, cringeing fig ure in the dim moonlight, cautiously crept across the low stubble field somew'here in Holland. While he crept forward, as every stick, stone, and piece of tawny grass tore at his old clothing trying to hold him back, he thought of this field two years ago: dancing tulij)s gently bowing and curtseying as they bloomed up on this now untilled rugged field that was his land. With the coming of that horrid horde, the tulips had gone, to leave only thia ugly field. When those men of Mars came, he had joined a guerrilla band. He had been sent by this band back to the place that had been his home, before the enemy came. Tonight he must creep across this rough field, his field, and blow up the tangible security of his life—his dike. There was an air drome near his home, the home that he must destroy to help his country. As he neared the dike, he saw a sentry. He froze into the colorless ground, fearful that he might now be discovered when he was so near, yet possibly so far. The sentry looked around and slowly passed on. He sprang forward and placed the charge that the next train would set off. As he slipped away, he painfullv passed for the last time over the field of his youth, where he knew every nook and crannied place. In his exhaustion, how'ever, every thing around was now growing less and less familiar. The rude ground l)lurred before his dimming vision. Now' that W'ater soon would flood the airdrome, he knew that some day tu lips would bloom here again. Losing the will to fight the torpor threaten ing him, he heard a train approach ing in the distance. —Margaret Ann Hughes. MY PRAYER Dear God, keep vs through this night; Show w tomorrow the way of light; Lead w,s to say, "Thy will he done” That worthy victories may he won. Dear God, Mess all who are at home While here tve’re striving to reach life’s dome; May memories of home bless us each day And help vs along the vpward way. Dear God, in lands north, south, east, west May ovr hoys in service hy Thee he hlest; Keep them aware of thy presence and care— Dear God, this is my earnest prayer. —Amen. —Robert Willi p'okd. WARTIME BUS TRAVEL In my opinion a war-time bus can he easily compared to a filled sar dine can, with only a particle of con trast. So difficult is the situation that I am frightened at the prospect of traveling without a full .suit of ar mor. It is quite a risk of one’s life. Arriving at the bus station scarce ly ten minutes before the bus leaves, the war-time traveler finds that the end of the ticket line is just outside the front entrance. Finally crossing the multitudinous seas of trunks, travelling bags, baskets, boxes, bun dles, pets, packages, and human be ings, he purchases a ticket and hur riedly stumbles outside where his bus is supposed to be waiting. Somehow he notices that the crowd is consid erably thinner and that the track his bus formerly occupied is now' va cant. He has been left behind! Trudging back into the bus sta- THE OAKS The oaks are pvt here for us all to see Hov) God mvst have wanted our own lives to he. *ls upright and sure in our purpose each day Of the things to be done in our tuork or our play. -l.s their acorns disperse and fall down to seed. May our deeds te so scattered to find those in need. With our arms outstretched like the limbs of each tree, We should symbolize love for hu manity. ■ Lv the wind bends the boughs arch ing over our hill, 11 e too should respond to the Mas ter’s will. We must make our lives as His word comrnands : Deep-rooted, steadfast—as the oak free stands. —Lola Windsor. tion, the traveller inquires about the next bus going to his desired destina tion, only to learn that he has six full hours to wait. Six W'eary hours pass and with their passing, another bus. The traveller quickly gathers his belong ings and runs w'ildly to a certain track. Before the bus has come to a full stop, he has planted himself directly and firmly in front—in front of the door. Like a herd of animals rush the other travellers from within the bus station—crowding, lunging, pushing—and crowd around the traveller. He has a faint notion that the bus is grow'ing farther and far ther away. The notion becomes a realization! The crowd has pushed him ten feet aw'ay from the door, and the distance is still growing. He musters up all the courage he can and shoves straight towards the door, but to his amazement he is shoved a couple of feet farther back by the elbow of a big, husky fellow with football shoulders. Being a bit tim id, the traveller remains fixed. After a period of seemingly indefi nitely waiting, he steps up to the door, and seeing a space about a foot square, climbs aboard. Still clutch ing his articles, he leans against the rod just back of him, finding that someone else has already had the same idea. He learns, too, that his coat is caught in the door and he has to remain in one position The war-time traveller learns an other thing; buses have one of two temperatures—too hot and too cold. Arriving at his destination with bruised feet, an aching head, extraor dinarily heavy bundles, and a de pressed spirit; the traveller firmly resolves not to travel again for the duration. —Vivian Creech. What we do today will have an influence upon others that will live on tomorrow. —Kathleen Wooten.

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