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Page Two. THE SALEMITE Saturday, November 25, 1933. ^alemite Member Southern Inter-Collegiate Press Association Published Weekly by the Student Body of Salem College SUBSCRIPTION PRICE $2.00 a Year :: 10c a Copy EDITORIAL STAFF Editor-in-Chief Susan Calder Assistant Editor Sarah Lindsay Assistant Editor Miriam Stevenson Associate Editors— Mary Penn Gertrude Schwalbe Mary Absher Cortlandt Preston Mary Oliie Biles Kathleen Adkins Martha Binder Elizabeth Jerome Elizabeth Gray Mary E. Reeves Special Reporters— Virginia Garner Cora Emmaline Henderson Sunshine Kirby Eugenia McNew Elizabeth Torrence Jean Patterson Martha Moore Sara Ingram BUSINESS STAFF Business Manager Isabel Pollock Advertising Manager....Jane Williams Exchange Manager .. Ruth McConnell Susan Rawlings Margaret Ward Darothy Courtney Ruth Dickieson Agnes Brown Ann Taylor Circulation Manager.Martha. Schlegel Asst .Cir. Mgr Florence Ledbetter editorial” Last week Mr. Higgins very kindly cons(^ted to talk to the Business staff of the Salemite. We felt that some pointers from one who really knows advertising and college con nections with the business world would do us some good. It did. Thank you, Mr. Higgins. The Salem girls appreciate your interest in their various activities. Well, the banquet tonight closes the hockey season. It has been a success ful one in some respects, and an un successful one in others. We haven’t been attending practices as we should. Many were the afternoons when we were disappointed because there were n’t enough girls to make two full teams. Yet those of us who have played enjoyed the practices and the ffames. Can’t we start basketball off with a bang? Let’s try to have so many girls at practice that we can’t all play- You will notice on the calendar that December 1 is Mrs. Alice Coun cil’s birthday. She is Salem’s oldest alumna, being 101 years old. It is hoped that many gjrls will remember to send her congratulations. Sing a song of Hockey a big crowd standing by. While two and twenty Salemites make the green grass fly. And when the game is ended everyone will say. That Hockey is a grand sport to make a happy day. When night flaunts a chilly snap, when the moon looms orange as a big pumpkin in a midnight black sky, when dead leaves trip the light fantastic, when clear air echoes laughter and song, when the hockey games have been played and won, and the turkey has come to rest on the victor’s table— it’s harvest time! TO MRS. RONDTHALER To the one who always recognizes everybody, to the one who is never, too busy to visit with anybody, to the one who makes Salem the place loved by all, we give our most heart-felt welcome. For the old girls Salem has not seemed the same till now. To the new girls, Salem wil be a differ ent, a homier place to live in from Mrs. Rondthaler, you can never re alize how glad we are to have you back. Just to know that you are with us seems to make things run more smoothly. Salem girls and Sal em friends welcome you most loving ly- HOCKEY It Began In Fairyland Once there were two rival queens in Fairyland; Hadley and Schwalbe, who were rulers over two adjoining domains. Queen Hadley was a white fairy and her rival was a red;, one. The White Fairy envied Queen Schwalbe’s charm|ng red suit and youth, and the Ted queen was jealous of her opponent’s knowledge and dig nity. One day Lady Hadley had a meeting and gathered together eleven of her white and yellow fairies and sent them over to Lady Schwalbe's dominion to secure the five dollar of ficial ball of gold that had caused many quarrels between the two realms. So off to the other side of th&sriver tripped the eleven white and yellow fairies on a mission to please their queen. On reaching the other side of the river, however, they found opposition in the person of eleven red and black fairies, who fought to re tain the official golden balls. There were fairies everywhere, scrambling after the ball and hitting air and deli cate fairy shins with their sticks. A little Brown fairy with a little brown tam tripped to and fro watch ing the combat. She whistled every time a dainty toe kicked the golden ball, or a' graceful body flitted be tween a fairy and the ball. Poised alertly behind the scrambUjfng line were two red fairies transported from the north. Squealing encouragement to her more timid companions one black fairy made for the goal. And so from that day unto this, the fairies have been struggling for the golden ball. THANKSGIVING Today I am glad, God. You have given to me so many things for which to give you grace; Little Things that come to be Big Things. In the early morning I am thankful for the swift ■scuttle of my roommate’s bare feet across the floor as she closes out the cold air that sweeps across my bed, and for. the popping of radiators as they begin slowly to warm our room. I am thankful for the brisk walk to the post-office through a crisp wind that slaps my cheeks to pinkness and leaves that rustle at my every step. (Once they had hot, smoking cereal at breakfast when I got back from across the street and I sat all alone and ate it slowly and read mother’s let ter as I ate.) There is a class too I want to thank you for. It makes me feel like studying, God, because I * want to learn—not because I must.! And the teachers lets us out in time to be first in the lunch line. In the afternoon I am thankful that I have friends who like to go to all kinds of picture-shows and are not ashamed to go to a coffee shop and order waffles and coffee—20c. (The waitresses glare at us for they have ' heat the waffle iron.) At night I am thankful for the beauty of a crescent moon guarded by a fat, opalescent cloud and for the seven stars I have counted every night now for seven nights. I am thankful for the chatter of girls who are propped on my bed when I come in and for the bell which means the end of study hour. I am thankful to You for being so tired I can flop into my cot with already closing eyes. And last of all, God, last of all these things— I want to thank You for the moment sometime in the night ^ the watchman’s lantern light flashes on my wall and I wake and think of my mother. SONGS Sing, sing,- sing a song To our faculty You are loved by everyone And that is plain to see. Clap, clap, clap your hand For our faculty They’re the best in all the land And they will always be. Grin, grin, grin a grin At the faculty Their favor then you'’ll surely win They’re cute, as they can be. Laugh, laugh, laugh a while With the faculty Your winning smile will spread a »iile Ha, ha, ha, hee, hee. Winter and springtime, winter and fall Who is our teacher of all kinds of ball? ■ Nobody else but our own dear Miss “At.” Tliough we were “softies” in days of old, She Ci She’s “At.” When for pleasures we are singing, And we don’t know what to do. She can set our cares to flying With a Rip-Ray-Rah and a Sis-Boom- Bah! She’s a good comrade, she’s a chum She’s always cheerful, never get’s glum That’s why we sing to our own coach. Miss “At.” MORE THANKSGIVING Above the horizon in the East floated a soft yellow balloon; in the West sank a glowing ball of firey red. Roseate ray and a golden glow softened the surrounding countryside with a peaceful mellowness, and was refleeted on the sleek sides of my mount as he ambled down the coun try lane. Far away in the distance farm yard animals were sounding grateful thanks for’their evening meal. At a nearby farm a small rosy faced boy ran out into the orchard to bring in an armful of apples as red as his cheeks. Farther down the road a thrifty'' farmer was pitching onormo'ug yellow pumpkins into wagon load . of dried cornstalks. Under a walnut, tree by the side of the path, a frisky gray squirrel, also utilizing th^ last rays of light, scampered back and forth packing nuts into hte pouchy month with lightning like speed. At the next barn yard an arrogant turkey strode haughtily around his enclos ure unaware of an impending ax. There was a strange contrast be tween this peaceful harmony and the world of unrest I had left be hind an hour agp. The calmness was inducive to thoughts other than economic problems, and instinctively my mind turned toward Thanks- He’s a staunch and stately president of Salem, Salem, Princely to the ladies all the time, When he walks round and round upon the campus, campus Bells up in the tower start to chime. Now, Hear that wind a-howling, snow is failin’ fast,,' Says our prexy sniilin’ “Spring is here at last!” What a royal chap with cane and cap, We love him, love him, Best of anybody,' anytime. What’s a song without a tune? Oh-h what’s a night without a moon? And what’s a banquet without you, Mr. President? Better get your black dress out, ’Cause Salem’s on the out and out Calamity! ’Spose he would not come. Everybody’s grouchy, and we’re all ! sad and blue. What’s the matter here? We’re scared he won’t be with us, and we’ve lost our cheer. What are we to do? Heart-broken! What’s a king without a crown? What’s an up without a down? And what’s a bahquet without you! Tie the golden grain heads Into shining sheaths. Beautiful their colors As the autumn leaves Pick the rosy apples Pack away with care. Gather in the harvest Gleaming everywhere. Now the fruit is gathered All the grain is in. Nuts are in the attic, Corn is in the bin. giving Day and its meaning. There seem to be more opportunity for thanks this year than during any recent years. The day falls naturally into a sequence of events which are gradually decreasing in tension. More hearts and thoughts, now than ever before, should open for one day to express soul-deep thanks to the Creator for the oscape from perilous conditions and for the guidance of a worthy leader, who has been the cause of many personal thanks givings already. Thus, I concluded, this day should be more national in, spirit than heretofore the gratitude uals for favors bestowed on a people of a nation lather than of individ- rather than on personalities. And under the soothing influence- of a benevolent nature, I stopped my mount in the face of the setting sun and reverently offered my share of the united thanksgiving. SALEM PLAY HOUSE by Annie Secret Willdoo “CIRCU^N THE MOON” Place: The Glimpfgash Circus tent— on the moon. Characters: Chuggellaf—a clown. Glop—the peanut and popcorn i Hipansholdumsquirl—the tight rope dancer. Hujestuf—the elephant. Time: 15-100 o’noonish (that’s moonish for 12 o’clock). The Glimp/gash Circus tent has been put up in one of the rat-cheese val leys on last night’s Harvest moon. (You know, of course, that the moon always changes from green cheese to rat cheese in the Autumn, so it can look yellow to the harvesters and lov ers of nature (yeah, nature) below. Mr. Glimpfgash, who owns the cur- cus tent, also owns the circus. He stands before his own and shouts, “Effelpettiskirts and Burmashaf-^ fers,” which, being interpreted, “Ladies and Gentlemen,” After the audience has thus been welcomed to the circus by the black whiskered Mr. Glimpfgash, they scut tle inside the tent and are welcomed by Chuggellaf, the clown. Chuggellaf: “If you’re descretish, You’ll all be sweetish, And grab a seatish.” (You will notice that the sound isk ^ characteristic of the Moonish Lang uage, and crops out in all the old lyr ics and ballads of the natives.) Now feeling thoroughly welcomed, the excited people all grab seatishes and begin to buy stomach aches froin Glop, the peanut and popcorn man. Glop sings: “I fry flshish, hot and dandy, I make swell molasses candy. But don’t be funny, if you got no money, That’s all I want to know.” At this point the circus begins. Hujestuf, tlie elephant comes tiptoe ing in with guess who? on his back. None other than that graceful little dancer, Hipainsholdumsquirl. She bows to the audience from her place on the end of the elephaint’s ni which is really quite a long way fi the beginning of his nose. She sings. Her voice is a triple treble, which is so sharp that it pricks Hujestuf’ nose, and he sneezes her right ont her downfall. Her song was: (before the catastrophe) “My name’s HipanslK)ldumsquirl. My dancing is a lovely sight. And tho’ I’m quite a lovely girl, I make the most convincing Tight Rope Dancer in the world.” (Only the evil minded will catch the significance of the next to last line.) All the moon people become upset over the spilling and spelling of Hip ansholdumsquirl. They begin shout ing. All of a sudden, the moon rises, and upsets the circus tent. Pandemonium reigns. Pandemonium, by the way. t the r B of 0 f the E people, but just a good old English custom, which breaks out every day at the ringing of the 1:00 o’clock bell. After it has reigned for several min utes on the moon, it rains for several more on the people below, who are looking at the moon, (harvesters, lov ers of nature, etc.). This brings on the grand finale. Chorus sings: “O, what is so rare as noon or And who that ii ti the n e expects r At a signal from Glop (He’s the popcorn, peanut man) This nonsense we’ll stop. And bring Hipansholdumsquirl out of her swoon. But let us all sayish, (There’s that eternal old “ishing” again) E’re we finish thish playish, (The “thish” from the Tight, coming to in the rain) Come on, Thankish-givingish, With apologies to whoever wrote the originals of the first and last lines of this foolish flourish to our moonish drama-ish. SOCCER GAME On Monday afternoon the Academy played their final soccer "ganie. Both sides played a hard-fought game and succeeded in keeping the score a tie, 0-0. The soccer banquet was held Fri day night, Nov. 24. Y. W. C. A. Y. W. C. A. and Y. M. C. A. cab inets of about thirty colleges in North Carolina will be represented at a •meeting in Greensboro, Sunday, Nov ember 26. The Salem Y. W. C. A. will be represented. READ THIS There wil be no Salemite next Thursday as most of us wil be home for Thanksgiving. May we take this opportunity to wish all of you the happiest day ever? Those of us who go home and those who stay here can all spend a profitable and enjoyable day. THE BIG BOLD BURGLAR Those of you who are familiar with the story of the burglar bold who was unfortunate enough to select aS his scene of burglary the boudoir of an old maid — unavoidably — who had made up her mind to marry the next man or gentleman who capie along, should be intensely interested in the following version of the story. The French version written by Mrs. Simpson, who has expressed herself very cleverly, and the story will in terest everyone who has even the slightest knowledge of Franch. II est entre par la fenetre aussi fur^ tif qu’un souris Et s’est trouve une place au-dessous d’un lit En pensant a Tor qui le rendrait riche H attendait, pour voler, un moment tres propice A neuf heures presises—dois-je vous dire Ce qu’il a vu?—de toutes les choses le pire. Une veille fille a I’air desespere S’approchait de ee lit pour se coucher. En pensant que tout y marchait a merveille Elle ne se donnait pas la peine d’y jeter un coup d’ oeil. Elle a mis sur le commode ses grands dents faux; Ensuite a ote son oeil de verre-tres 1 tete se sont elisses Et u Notre cambrioleur voyant jcombien elle etait affreuse (x) Battait I’air de ses mains et mourait de peur. Ne pouvant attendre que la vieille fille dormit II a essaye de se souver sans fair* de bruit. A la derobee il est alle a quatre pat- tes Vers la porte ouverte pres de sa ca- chette. Mais il n’avait pas de chance, le pauvre voleur Car la vieille fille n’avait du tout au- Elle n’a pousse ni cri, ni mot, ni son Mais s’est felicitee d’avoir trouve un homme. Dans un din d’oeil a-t-elle bien tire Le pistolet qu’ elle gardait sous son oreiller. “Monsieur,” a-t-elle dit, “ne craignez Car grace a dieu vous etes le mien. Donnez-moi la promesse d’etre mon Et en echange de cela je vous donne la Le brave cambrioleur qui ne voulait pas mourir J^ttanjt un (petit coup d’otSR prie “Madame, tire.” THESE PRACTICE TEACHERS Time wears on, but there is no who began the work in the height of end to teaching. Some of the girls spirits are now drooping around like roses after a storm. And it is a storm too. Standing before forty children who ought to know more than they do is no fuii after ao long a time. The end of the first six weeks brought a change in some of the young teachers. Some were urged on to new goals by the good grades that they received; others felt that there were six more weeks to bo lived through. “How glad I’ll be when Christmas comes! ’ ’ says one girl. Another says, “I’ll hate to leave my children. They are dears.” Still another one says, “I hope that I’ll get a box of candy again. That at least is some encouragement.” One girl wonders why she was put with, the Mr. Man. She’ll have to captivate him as. well as the pupils for a gobd grad«.' Another girl has her children make a dress for her. 'I4iey cut the skirt crooked and the jiraist straight when it should be bias. She’ll wear the dress any way rather than tell of her mistake. One young teacher gets poems from one of her pupils. Maybe she is the kind of person to inspire poetic thoughts. Well, there are some good things in teaching after all. The children are rather responsive, even if in the wTong direction sometimes; the teachers are usually human. But ’t we be glad when the fifteenth of December comes!
