Newspapers / Mars Hill University Student … / May 14, 1938, edition 1 / Page 6
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Paths By Helen Crutchfield They wind in and out among woods, gfrasslands, and meadows—those narrow, twining paths. Some of them are rocky. Others are just pebbly, sprinkled with white, curiously shaped pebbles that cover the brownness of the earth and fairly glisten in the sunlight. Sometimes you see a grassy path. It may stretch al most endlessly across a deep, fragrant meadow or wind slowly up some distant hill—a slight twist, a crook, and then a firm, straight stretch, but always covered with the same cool grass. Rocky, pebbly, and grassy paths, but have you ever seen a path of pine needles? Did you riot long to throw your self bodily against their smooth firmness and with one sigh thrust out all of the heaped up longings within you, and then with one deep, eager breath let the piney fragrance of the needles creep into your very soul? Would you not feel as if you had thrust off some awful burden and taken within your being new life, power, and fortitude? I let myself do that once. I was all alone and had come over many paths. Hurriedly I had skipped over the rocky ones and stopped occasionally on the pebbly ones. For a few seconds I ran breathlessly through the fresh, verdant, grassy paths and then, as breathlessly, slipped to the ground and ran my fingers idly through the sof^ sweet blades. There among the green grasses of that path I was keenly aware of the tangled paths within me and realized my imperfectness. I knew that I must find a more rest ful place, one not quite so fresh. I thought of a very beautiful path that I had once seen. I could not remember just how it looked. In fact, the memory of it was so dim that I became afraid that I was remembering a dream, and, yet, it was real. By this time I was out of the grass and, to my intense surprise, running swiftly over another path which seemed to be of nothing but earth, soft and warm under my feet. All around me there ap peared to be nothing but space; and then, I know not how, I came upon a grove of tall, green pines. They were so lovely that I quite forgot that I was Searching for a path in which I might stop and think, really think, and try to untangle all of the mixed up paths within me. Then I looked down. Here was the path I had been looking for. The needles had dropped from the pines and formed a deeply piled carpet of brown fragrance. With a little Inward cry I dropped just where I was and there I sobbed out all of doubt, ugliness, bitterness; and all at once, the paths that had been so horribly twisted and warped untangled themselves into the peace and perfectness for which I had sought. All of the loneliness which I had thought was gone came throbbing back and with it a deeper sense of love, kindness, patience, sincerity, and forgive ness. They wind in and out among woods, grasslands, and meadows, those narrow, twining paths, and in some small way are caught up and mingled with our lives. Rocky, pebbly, grassy, and flowery paths, but somewhere along the way, there is a path of pine needles, the path that brings an understanding. The Unconquerable ■■■ : By ■ • Daphne Penny The forces of nature have always been a mystery to humanity. When one sees with wonder those forces perform their tasks, one is at once possessed with awe and astonishment. That low, rumbling noise which penetrates the calm atmosphere is the first warning of the confusion taking place among the natural elements. Nearer that noise comes and presently the air is split with a sharp crack of thunder. The heavy clouds roll in furious masses over head, accompanied by roaring thunder bolts. At intervals the dark clouds are broken by silver streaks of lightning. They appear impatient to get rid of their burdens. The results of this anxiety bring small gusts of wind, picking up a leaf here and - there, carrying it to the unknown regions. Those whiffs of wind seem friendly as they slightly stir the blades of waving grass, but gradually that unseen power causes those gales to burst into keen blasts. From playful breezes they turn to blustering and boisterous commotions. The tall, stalwart pines bow their lofty heads at the command of its power. The flowers surrender their delicate blossoms to its possession. The ocean waves gush and pour upon the beaches. All nature is obedient to the power which reveals its strength in the winds. With the clouds swelling forth, thundering and lightning, and the wind conquering all within its path, the scene is set for the showers of water to burst forth in freedom from the overloaded clouds. Within the twinkling on an eye, all vision is obstructed by the falling tor rents of water. The little creeks become raging rivers; the young plants are jerked up by their tender roots and carried away in the swift currents. The fields of grain are beaten to the earth, and all the world is drenched in rain. With the force of the wind beating the huge streams of water against the stately mansion of the rich as well as the poor, and destroying the magnificent flower gardens of the huge estates, as well as the neat garden plots in the back yards of the poor, all the world is as helpless as a newborn babe. This force (Continued on Page 7) Pace Six Queen of The West By Paul Early North, south, east and west—in each direction from the summit of Pike’s Peak, this great sentinel of strength and grandeur and symbol of everlasting nature in western Colorado, mountains, valleys, rivers, lakes, highways and even sky seem subjugated to her spell. Prom many, many long hot miles across the state. Pike’s Peak may be seen as it rises majestically and without chal lenge from the broad plain of Colorado. There in the edge of the Rocky moun tains, midget ranges surround her, bow ing, yet pointing upward toward the crown of clouds hovering around the silent queen’s stately head. Fourteen thousand and more feet she stands, every foot adding to her assured position in the West. Why then should not the far-reaching views from the snow-dotted top surpass all imagination? Winding thirty miles around, crossing and switching about like a great endless snake, the path for puny man’s vehicles of transportation finally ends on top. There is no feeling of vic tory, however, for the awe put into man’s soul by God at such a height replaces the natural feeling of conquest with one of further wonder. Then comes the culmination of all aspirations entertained as one slowly crawls up the dark red road, first through beautiful gl)ens and forests of green splendor, then more steeply on above the line of vegetation, through the bleak rolling mounds and mountain heights. All life is left behind half-way up, and since one’s eyes are kept instinctively forward lest he fail to reach the top, that first view from the rocky expanse of the sum mit takes one’s breath away. “Look there, and there, and there!” are the exclama tions in rapid succession, after which one is silent. Par to the east and down in the valley is the great expanse of forest and plain squared and drawn off by the pencil- thin, insignificant white roads. Down the slopes one sees the beginning of the for est line and life. In every direction one sees signs of many futile attempts to beautify or change nature. What can that foot-square town matter as the hills of green and brown go rolling on in serene disregard of white-marking highways and match-like rails? Disdaining the thought of even climb ing the silly man-made tower at the peak for a better view, every visitor stands spellbound, looking and marvelling at sights undreamed of. The world is at his feet, though he is only a sparrow clinging to the crown of the queen of it all, scarce daring to move in awe of such glory. Such is the magnificence of Pike’s Peak —standing forever as queen of the west, and casting a spell of awe upon all who look on her.
Mars Hill University Student Newspaper
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May 14, 1938, edition 1
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