Page Two.
THE SALEMITE
Friday, May 14, 1937.
Published Weekly By The Member
Student Body of Southern Inter-Collegiate
Salem College Press Association
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THANK
YOU
We tliank you, Lecture Committee, for introducing the
student body of Salem College to Christopher Morley, Louis
Untermeyer and Julien Bryan all in one year. We Salemites
appreciate the opportunity of hearing these prominent thinkers,
writers and lecturers of this world of today in our very own
campus chapel. We thank you, Mr. MeBwen, Miss Blair, Jlev.
Walser Allen, Miss Grace Siewers and Miss Elouise Sample for
helping us to keep abreast of the times.
—A. H.
So much has been said about peace, but until the time
comes when wars are no more, enough has not been said.
Many people think that war is inevitable, that it is an
integral part of the cycle of history. Fortunately, however,
fhere are others who believe world peace is a future possibility.
Those who share this latter belief are not the hopeless idealists
that they are accused of being. For the most part they are
serious, earnest, thinking young people, willing to face both
difficulty and reality. Their enthusiastic fight for peace is not
startling, perhaps not even very effectual yet; but it is growing
and every day more students are joining the ranks of the na
tional student peace movement.
At present world peace is only an ideal. However, all
great reforms were once ideals and all great reformers were
accused of foolish idealism. Once, to be bitten by a mad dog
was certain and inevitable death, then Pasteur came along
and dreamed of saving the unfortunate rabies victims. He was
laughed at and ridiculed and called a hopeless idealist. But
he made a reality out of his ideal!
Unfortunately war cannot be prevented by so simple a
thing as an inoculation. It calls for a more complex serum.
However, if each generation of young people can be sufficiently
inoculated with a fear and hatred of war, aijd a realization
of the fallacy of the “war to end war” idea, and if each gen
eration of young people can be taught to see through the fake
glamour of warfare, there can be hope for peace.
Too much is at stake to risk another war. Time was
when war was an aid to progress and world development. That
time is past now. War must not be accepted as inevitable. War
In each of the following issues of
“The Salemite” an article by a
member of the faculty will be pub-,
lished. This is in answer to many
requests by students.
By Dean Vardell
Tomorrow, my sanguine friend,
you will see London for the first time.
I am wondering whether, after years
of deKghted anticipation you are in
for a disappointment. Being a pas
sionate reader, and something of a
sentimentalist to boot, are you pos
sibly a little afraid that London may
npt come up to specifications? For
I know that you have specifications,
and I likewise know that your ideas
are both definite and infinitely com
plex. Will you find in the roaring,
sprawling city of today any atmo
sphere, or even any single impression
that will fit into your imagined
scheme of things*
Do you recall your first London?
Shall I rather ask whether you can
ever forget it? You are twelve years
old, and are shivering beneath your
bedclothes with an illicit nightlight
beside you and a forbidden volume
of Conan Doyle six inches in front of
your nose. The center of London, or
more accurately the center of the
universe, is a suite of shabby bach
elor diggings in Baker Street, where
lives the inscrutable Sherlock and his
faithful Watson. A London of ter
rible and fascinating crimes, where
every footprint is a clue, and where
a casual look from the great de
tective fathoms instantaneously your
residence, your profession, your hob
bies, your habits, even your friends
and enemies. A London of shabby
villas in the Brixton road, in one of
which will duly be disco)vered a
corpse with the snarl of violent death
on its pallid lips. A London where
old ladies swing up behind myster
ious cabs, changing their disguises
as the vehicle turns the corner. From
beneath the bedroom door of a
shabby-genteel lodging house a nar
row stream of blood may presently
issue. And lurking in every shadow
lies the sinster threat of Professor
Moriarity, mastermind of the under
world, withdrawn behind a screen of
impenetrable mystery, fit adversary
for even the master himself.
Then one afternoon a different
London swam, like Keats’ new plan
et, into your ken. Your friend was
chuckling over a book in a quiet cor
ner of the school library. To your
curious gaze he unfolded the im
mortal scene where the old gentle
man in groy worsted small-clothes
comes a-wooing down Mrs. Nickle-
by’s chimney. Now your metropolis
takes on the black-and-white-and-
grey tones of a Cruikshank illustra
tion. Angelic heroines and their'
black-clothed, faultless young lovers
Weave their way through impossible
plot-cojnplications to an inevitable
marriage and six children. London
becomes a maze of gloomy mansions,
red-curtained inns, debtors’ prisons,
thieves’ kitchens, and bridges where
one gazes longingly into the mid
night wliirl-pools of Father Thames.
A place peopled with Pickwicks, Sam
Wellers, Sairey Gamps and Bill
Sikeses. A not too refined locality,
where even the gentlemen use tooth
picks, where everybody eats and
drinks almost ceaselessly, and w-here
to be respectable is to be uninterest
ing.
Did John Galsworthy obliterate
this picture for you? Does your
imagination dwell in a London of
Forsytes? Can you see them driv
ing in the Park, or sitting down to
a shoulder of mutton in some irre
proachable neighborhood? Does the
word “Property” appear in in visible
letters over every door? Do you re
pair of a Sunday to the mansion of
your maiden aunts, and there ex
change interminable family gossip in
an atmosphere of green plush, stuffed
birds and doubtful works of art? Or
(Continued On Paga Four)
AT KANID'DM
SARA TEASDALE
Reveals Why "Bessy Bell” was Forced to Wait
I hid my heart in the wind,
In the cool, young wind of May;
For I knew that my love would find
And carry it away.
Happy I lay — and dumb;
Held in the sun’s warm clasp;
For I knew that my love would come,
And see it there, and grasp.
I saw him stoop and start;
And then — oh, day turned black —
My love picked up my heart
And brought it safely back.
X
This is a parody from “Selected Poems and Parodies
of Louis Untermeyer.”
PERSONALITIES
JANE DUART
MACLEAN
Perhaps it is because Janie is
rather quiet and reserved by nature
that the longer her friends know
her the more they learn to love her
and to appreciate her true value.
Her college record of extra-curricular
activities is proof of her increasing
popularity. She was a member of the
Student Council in her freshman
year; class secretary and a member
of the basketball varsity in her soi>h-
oniore year; assistant basketball
manager, captain of her class bas
ketball team, a member of the bas
ketball varsity, a student council
representative, and a member of the
history club in her junior year; and
in the spring of this year, she has
been elected president of next year’s
senior class.
Janie is proud of her Scotch an
cestry. She was born in 1917 on
the Pamlico river that she “loves
better than “most anything in the
world.” She moved from “Little
Washington” to Washington, D. C.
when she was a senior in high school,
and graduated from Western High
School in Washington City. When
Janie left Washington in 1936, she
moved to Raleigh where she is now
living on Carr Street.
Her full name is Jane Duart Mac-
Lean, but she is affectionately dub
bed “Cleo. ” One of her friends
went so far as to call her ‘ ‘ a typ
ical Cleopatra.” We will admit that
Janie is unusual in appearance with
her large, dark blue eyes, heavy
lashes and occasional bangs — al
most exotic, but her disposition is
hardly that of the original queen.
“Cleo” is retiring, gentle, and
conservative in taste. She is quick
tempered and can give you a forbid
ding look when she is angry, but her
temper is usually short lived, and
she has a sweet disposition. Loyalty
is one of her outstanding qualities.
She is very tidy. She takes pride
in her personal appearances and in
the appearances of her rooms. Her
roommate declares that “believe it
or not, she sweeps up on Sunday
mornings! ”
Janie “adores “The Blue Dan
ube.” “I like to read better than
“most anything,” she says. She
likes novels (not “sissy novels”)
and magazine stories. She admits
that “Good Houseikeepiiiig” and
“Cojmopolitap” are her favorite
magazines, and that she reads first
the comic strips in newspapers. As a
history major, she is interested in
government and politics.
‘ ‘ I like to play solitaire with Cor
nelia and “Tweak,” she says. “I
is not inevitable. Peace and international friendship are the
most precious things which nations can possess, and true pa
triotism is shown, not by a willing answer to the call to arms,
but by a willing answer to the call to peace.
—H. M.
like to play basketball, and go to
the movies, and go to Raleigh” —
especially when Billy Carter is
there, too, we might add, and Janie
confirms, “I like lawyers.”
“Cleo” is an “early to bed, late
to rise” girl. She can eat a pint
of chocolate ice cream and relish it.
Other of her favorite dishes are oys
ters, steak, and chocolate cake.
She has definite likes and dis
likes as to people. She is devoted
to her three sister.s, her nephew, and
her niece. She likes tall boys who
are rather serious and “not too
3^oung. ’ ’
.Tanie plans to go to Europe next
summer. “Then I’ll probably take
a business course, “she says, “and
I might marry Billy — I wish I
thought I could.”
Comments from her friends are:
“right sweet old crutch;” unusual
eyes;” “unique in appearance and
perso/iality; ” person who grows on
you;” “one of the finest;” “Look,
I think she’s wonderful;” “a very
loj-al friend;” “quiet but force
ful.”
MRS. J. A. DOWNS
It is natural that Mrs. Downs’ fav
orite section of the country should
be Georgia. If you have ever heard
her pronounce girl as “guhl” and
world as “wuhld,” with her soft
Georgia drawl, you will understand
why she says: “I love the red clay
thatshe likes the South; she loves
hills of Georgia.” We may supj)ose
Chapel Hill and received her Master
of Arts degree there. ,
I know you are already looking for
I>et aver.sions” and “secret am-
bct two secret ambitions; one is to
bet two secret ambitions: one is to
speak French so her husband will
not laugh at her, and the other is
that she has always wanted to be
a doctor. There is one thing she
hates, and that is to get in the car
just to ride around.
It is difficult to believe that one
who leads us so beautifully into the
fairyland of Shelley and the oriental
dreams of Coleridge, can be a good
fisherman. She says: “I like to
fish and I’m a good fisherman! “Be
sides fishing, she likes golf and par
ticularly swimming. Strangely
enough she “loathes radios” and
does not care for movies, although
she likes Frederick March.
As one might expect, Mrs. Downs
has very definite likes and dislikes
with regard to literature. Her fav
orite literary period is the Middle
Agos. She loves everything in the
Middle Ages, including its gothic
architecture. ■ She likes celtic litera
ture and thinks that nearly all high
ly imaginative literature finds it
roots there. (Incidentally she does
not like Tennyson’s treatment of the
Authurian material.) Carlyle is one
of her favorite authors — she likes
his philosophy and thinks it is sound
Mrs. Downs loves all literature that
(Continued On Page Fourt