North Carolina Newspapers

Page Two. THE SALEMITE Saturday, January 16, 1932.i The Salemite Member Southern Inter-Collegiate Press Association Published Weekly by the Student Body of Salem College SUBSCRIPTION PRICE $2.00 a Year :: 10c a Copy ^ITORIAL STAI-'K Editor-in-Chief ... Managing Editor Associate Editor Associate h dito, ALPHA CHI ALPHA Sarah Graves Mary Louise Mickey Feature Editor Feature Editor Feature Editor Poetry Editor Ass’t Poetry Editor Music Editor Society Editor 8po rditi Local Edito )orothy Heidenreich Beatrice Hyde Susan Calder Marion Caldwell .. Martha H. Davis Isabella Hanson Mary Absher Josephine Courtney Mary Ollie Biles Mildred Wolfe r Miriam Steve REPORTERS Elizabeth Gray Martha Binder Margaret Long Mary Miller Zina Vologodsky Elinor Phillips CONTRIBUTORS’ CLUB Kathleen Atkins Mary Drew Dalton Mary Penn Carrie Braxton BUSINESS STAFF ss Manager .. Mary Alice Beanm Bus Advertising Mgr. Asst. Adv. Mgr. . Asst. Adv. Mgr. . Asst. Adv. Mgr. . Asst. Adv. Mgr. . Asst. Adv. Mgr. . Asst. Ad. Mgr. IV Circulation Mgr. . !. Circ. Mgr. . t. Circ. Mgr. .. Edith Claire Leake Martha Bothwell Grace Pollock Mary Sample Isabelle Pollock Emily Mickey y Catherine Siewers Sarah Horton Ann Shuford Rachel Bray LITTLE THOUGHTS FOR TODAY Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to —Walt Whitman. He knew that we must all be taught Like little children in a school. —Edwin Arlington Robinson. I won’t take my religion from any man who never works except with his mouth and never cherishes any memory except the face of the woman on the Amer ican silver dollar. —Carl Sandburg. CONGRATULATIONS Last Tuesday morning: an ai nouncement of the greatest importance to Salem College, her students, fac ulty, and friends, was made in chapel by Dean Vardell. Mr. Vardell, Dean of the School of Music of Salem Col lege, announced the admission of Salem College to the National Asso ciation of Schools of Music. Membership in this association, which was formed for the pur pose of standardizing and stabilizing the degree, Bachelor of Music throughout America, is creditable to an institution, to say the least. The fact that Salem’s School of Mi ranks along with Eastman School of Music and other eminent conservato ries of Music in America should be a source of pride to all Salem This announcement will me; good deal to the students of music of this institution. Their degrees will be of as much value as any degrees of music that are offered in the country. A musical graduate of this institu tion will henceforth be in possession of a degree that she would formerly have been required to spend two years in some conservatory to gain. Congratulations to Salem College, its administration, its faculty, its stu dents, its alumnae, its patrons and friends! But congratulations ticular to Dean Charles G. Vardell and the School of Music of Salem College! Countless years of persist- effort, undaunted courage, infinite ability, and plain old “hard work’ have gone to bring about the bestowal of this great honor. Much honor and respect is due the late Dean H. A. Shirley, Dean of the Salem College School of Music for many years, who laid the foundations for this great accomplishment. SOCRATES—AT HOME Under the bed, beside the long feast table, in the spotless cellars, through the whole of the small clean house, the two children scuttled. Xantippe’s nasal voice rasping out mild curses urged them to be rapid in their search and sent them scuttling corners to turn up any piece of furniture large enough to conceal a pair of newish sandals. Archelaus was giving a dinner for their f-oolish old father, and their energetic mother was irritably forcing her spouse into a semblance of a guest-of-honor out fit. ASTRONOMY The Moon is a Pale-Goddess Who trails the umber-tinted filmy Before her sweet maturity To lure enraptured gaze Of earthly mortals. The Sun, her haughty Lord, Stands guard with flaming eye And darting beam To keep enamored lovers From her portals. The Stars, laughing courtiers. Wink down with irritating conde scension And greet Man’s hopeless passion For the Moon With distant chortles. —Isabella Hanson. PARAGRAPHICS Cramming time, and all that means, is here! Maybe, it will remove these Post-Christmas and Pre-Exam Blues that have been pervading the campus the last two weeks. Congratulations are in order! Salem College, and in particular the School of Music of Salem College, is to be congratulated on its last, and perhaps greatest, achievement — becoming a member of the National Association of Schools of Music. Last year Salem became a member of the American Association of University Women; this year she has become member of the N. A. S. M. We wo: der what Salem will do next. Another set of congratulations seem to be in order. We congratulate our neighboring institution, N. C. C. W., Greensboro, on its new priv ilege of smoking on the campus, temporary or trial arrangement, like Salem’s, we predict a successful solv ing of the campus smoking problem. CONCLUSION I stumbled Fell and staggered up— Eons of that Then plaudits Cheered achievement. In the dazzle of the heights I basked—false flame! Fame cheered— And then in treachery He flung me down The other side! With some general remark lauding the adornment of wit and damning the adornment of the person, Soc rates, flatly and somewhat loudly, had refused to add more than a paii of sandals to his usual smudgy white costume. Even now he was standing barefoot in the street in front of his home discoursing in a masterful way the foppery of gaudy dress. Xan tippe’s inevitable contradictions play ed a shrill accompaniment to the deep monotone flowing steadily on in de fense of simple dress and bare feet. Short and stout, the grotesque looking little man stood with his back to the house, his powers of self-control al most exhausted. His prominent eyes appeared to bulge from their sockets, and his snub nose with it; broad nostrils seemed to spread ovei the whole of his sallow face. Socrate; exasperated and a little weary, and the thought of shoes made the stone bruise on his left heel smart and burn. If he could only escape from this well-meaning shrew, he could think again; he could teach or talk for hours^—but, Olymphian Gods! Why were women made thus? The wrangling jerked to a forced halt. Megare, the young slave of Archelaus, was running down the street toward them, waving something brown in his right hand, and cheer fully shouting greetings to Socrates, ‘Archelaus has sent me to thee with I gift of shoes. Thine old friend sends the message that he knoweth thy reason for delay to be always this ne one, and that he desireth thee t on his sandals and come along th me, for the feast is prepared and the guests are waiting.” Socrates’ mouth stretched in a wide grin as he buckled on the sandals he had forgot bring home from the last banquet of Archelaus, and as he shuiTled awk wardly away beside Megare, the wise old fool thanked the young man for furnishing him shoes without furnish ing the demon in his home grounds for persecution by exposing ;-mindedness. Then out of fading Splendour shone—yo Ah, now I know. You had not left m( Only your steadfast glo Dimmed in the blazing Lightning of Success. Enough — Success shone just to teach That there is nothing else i But Love. Fame’s hand is cold Achievement’s heart is hard But Love, With you I dare to Rest And know that none Shall ever take my place 1 —Isabella Hanson. 1 Life THE FACTS “A very nice pool you have here. Is it not?” mused Professor Bullfrog. “Well, yes and no,” answered the confident Mr. Bullfrog whom he had addressed. “The latest reports of :he Pool Investigation Committee ihows that this pool ranks thirtieth from the bottom.” But just the same, pu seem to have an abundance of insect food,” laid Professor Bullfrog snapping at 1 mosquito. “You speak erroneously, my dear professor. If all the insects in this pool were laid end to end they would only reach half way to California. Now, Mr. Bullfrog had never been outside of the small pool, but he took all the journals and statistical reports and dared scorn the judgment of any one—even an illustrious schol ar like Professor Bullfrog who had traveled all over the w'orld and was famous for his deep studies. The Pro fessor was not used to having his opinions contradicted and he moved uneasily on his lily pad. “One must have a great deal of time for meditation here and for read ing all the ancient classical works of the famous Bullfrogs,” said the Pro fessor trying to change the subject. “I have never read them,” said Mr. Bullfrog, “but I can tell you this: the latest report of the Anti- Classical Investigation shows that ninety percent of these books by people of abnormal tality.” I should judge that they have in spired many great deeds,” humbly put the Professor. But Mr. Bullfrog smiled conde scendingly upon the learned Pro fessor. “My dear, would you place mere judgment above the actual facts, tHe visible figures?” “But listen, Mr. Bullfrog, I’m afraid you don’t get my point.” “There is no point,” said Mr. Bull frog and his tone was final. Professor Bullfrog said nothing more for there was nothing say. If he had been a combination of Sophocles, Shakespeare and Aristotle he would have done the same thing. Hopping noiselessly under the pro tection of a bullrush he beg£ meditate, starting like this: “If all the fools were laid end to end—” the professor’s mind wandered TO THE PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT BUT WILL BE When I am dead and gone Into the endless vacuum of eternity n I have stepped the last time Thru the door of 'Will Not But You Must” I shall be lying there— Beneath the earth And what was once my face Shall be impotent, immobile and stark Staring w'ith eyes that see not At the sky Listening with heedless ears your swift steps Above my prison house of 'Are No More.” Ah, You who then will pass Above my head And think not of the dust beneath Your feet Where are You now? Who even thinks of You? And who will die because You cry ALPHA CHI ALPHA This entire page consists of original writings of Salem stu dents. Most of them were con tributed by members of the Nar rative Writing course which is offered to Juniors and Seniors; some of them were contributed by individual writers, poets and essayists, on the campus who were inspired by Calliope, the Muse of Poetry, or by some oth er of the Muses. Lambda chapter of Alpha Chi Alpha, the national journalistic sorority of Salem, is sponsoring a monthly page in the Salem ite. Not only may members of Alpha Chi Alpha, but also mem bers of the student body, may contribute to this page. All in dividual and original writings will be wi'lllingly, yea joyfully, accepted by the organization. This is a cordial invitation to all would-be writers to see their “brain-children” in print! M. A LETTER A small white envelope of standard A square stamped with the brand of Uncle Sam. I handle You, give You a gentle Striving to pierce your half-mysterio You look so innocent, clothed thus White; with the blood-red seal that takes you on. Still—do I doubt. I have a s You hold a secret I alone can ci What’s in your heart sage do you hold ? White Mystery, I fear What r break yo beneath that tra Perhaps the quil fold, A sorrow—or a Horror—an Appeal! Your fragile littleness controls my Fate. I open you—my car! The payment’s late! —Isabella Hanson. For life? 1 ask it of the heavens And they smile With all the knowledge Of Infinity. And the green trees bend down Beneath their mirth The mocking wind sweeps Past my waiting ear Cold laughter in its tones— It knows! It knows! ‘Why do you wish to know— You little thing Of moulded earth and dust That moves but once When animated by the Maker’s foot As He walks by—and then Returns again To non-existence and dumb fixed- —But I am made immortal By His touch— Protests—a freezing chill Has dulled my voice— What of the thousands who have gone Before ? What do they know of Immortality They who Have Been Not, lo. These many yearsj Ah, You who hammer at the Doors of Life Lit will not be admitted ill I leave Remember me as one who Thought of You Before the God of All Things Touched and spoke Thus waking you to Rapture And Despair. Remember me—I lived, I loved, I dreamed My eyes have shed the tears Which you will shed My ears have thrilled to music You will know. And even when you face The swinging gates That beckon on to solve the Mystery Just think again—why, I have done the same. The greatest singer of them All will come After the earth has Swallowed up myself And they have yet to print The greatest book When I have not the life To comprehend. But, You Who Will Be, You will think the same So I have no regrets for Living now. Oh, seize your life, and laugh And sing and play. Too soon will we be silenced. Clay to Clay! —Isabella Hanson. Probably ought to extend that moratorium to include Leap Year. First the depression gets a man down, and then the women Leap on him. —High Point Enterprise. BARGAIN There is a compensation here for me In the frank beauty of your exstacy. Your eyes beg and I kiss you laugh ingly. It gives you pleasure—7 escape ennui! —Isabella Hanson.