Newspapers / Mars Hill University Student … / March 10, 1945, edition 1 / Page 2
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Page 2. THE HILLTOP, MARS HILL COLLEGE, MARS HILL, NORTH CAROLINA. Q*he Hilltop Plain Living and High Thinking Published by the Students of Mars Hill College, Mars Hill, North Carolina. Entered as second-class matter February 20, 1926, at the Post Office at Mars Hill, North Carolina, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Issued semi-monthly during the college year. The Quest Of A Soul Subscription Rate Year $1.00 MEMBER OF ASSOCIATED COLLEGIATE PRESS STAFF Editor-in-Chief Bob Chapman Associate Editor Lillian Miller Managing Editor Ted Hethcock Sports Editor Sigsbee Miller Adviser Louise Vaughan CONTRIBUTORS Helen Allen . Marian Ballard . Wilhelmina Rish . Sarah Coston Mary Sue Middleton . Eunice Smith . Jane Wright Pinky McLeod . Jassamine Davis BUSINESS STAFF Business Manager Nathan LeGrand Advertising Manager Jerry Dayton Circulation Manager Raymond Wyatt Typist Jane Wright Volume XIX. March 10, 1945. Number 10. You Do It- “In the spring—ah, well, you’ve heard it.” And we want you to do just that. Not the traditional things of “baseball and other forms of pitching.” You’ve quoted it more than one way. We aren’t dis cussing your past experiences along that “line.” Instead, we of The Hilltop staff are anticipating those days when we can plough through furrows of fresh experiences. Here, where beauty moves your heart to ecstasy, let the creative impulses flow. Take that conversation between Freddy the Frog and the Biology prof—remember that long afternoon in the lab? Put it on paper; check it for errors, legibility of script, and clever statements. Let us have your original literary work. The story you always wanted to write about the unusual characters in your hometown can be told now. Maybe you want to expound on our Oriental custom of men on one side of the church and posed women on the other. You’ve thought about it before. The mountain footpaths across the Little Circle give that section of our campus a definite bedraggled appearance. We’re in the mountains, yes, but we still need the grass. Tell that good-looking gal who is so utterly fascinating that you don’t like that habitual cold .shoulder ... We have enough cold weather in Mars Hill. No names please, but use your ability to satirize con structively ... it might help. That moon you saw the night after the good movie, and all in vain you wished it weren’t against the rules and regulations to .stroll around the Big Circle . . . with a man. Express your feelings in an individual literary style. Perhaps spring has poked a probing finger in your heart and you feel lyrical. The poem you write won’t have to rhyme; try free verse and discover how interesting it can be. We are asking you for a product of your creative ability so that others may see the talent and originality of Mars Hill students in the Literary Edition of The Hilltop, April 7. —L. M. The darkness was so deep I dared not fathom it. Not even the smallest ray of light Filtered through the black. Suddenly like a flash of lighten ing There stood before me Wisdom, Arrayed in all her enchanting glory, Offering the cup of knowledge. Drink of the cup—the secrets of the Earth will be thine. I quivered as I reached forth my hand Then almost reluctantly, I drew back. Was this what I sought? Would wisdom bring to a close This, loneliness of an aching soul. Again the darkness. I feared even to breathe. Now it was the dull gray mist of dawn. A slight movement of the air made me turn about. Was there sonieone near? I felt the presence of a stranger— Yet, I was blind to the unseen. March 10, 194® LIGHTS ON LEADERS A silvery voice seemed to whisper, “Is it fame you seek, worldly pleasure?” Something within beat against my very soul Answering, No. Fame could not open wide tbe gates That would set me free From my miserable journey. The day became night again. Then, fame vanished from sight. This silence was too great to bear. Wilhelmina Rish my A Message: Dr. Sams- It ha.s been said that the temple of art is built of words, and if that is so, then is not the temple of lives built of souls? During the past week we have heard testimonies given by Christian students on the campus; Tuesday we heard, the words of a living testimony from a personality that through these years has kept one hand in God’s and the other held out to all who would grasp it for its human help fulness. His message to us: Build a personality with all the care and interest and put into it all the beauty that David’s son planned for the temple in Moriah. Could his message have been more effective? And his words came to us, we thought with the poet that well might all “sermons be called contrabands,” when we were drawn by such an unconquerable spirit toward “that great Temple that’s not made with hands.” . —E. S. Was there none to share burden of an empty soul? I heard a knock. It was the knock of. secrets untold. Was it for me to beat Against the walls of man’s canny reason? Something seemed to answer, you will.” —Alwayne McCluz-e. the yet As Out Of The Mail Bag (Editor’s Note: The members of the editorial staff thoroughly enjoy the traditional tussle with dozens of mis-spelled words, times when the whole “she-bang” apparently goes “hay-wire”—not to mention the staff—but the pause that refreshes which comes not from the manufacturer’s of Coca-Cola, but in well written letters—words spelled correctly— from students who once dodged puddles of rain on Fridays and gave out with a sigh, not of sea longing, when the aroma of fish drifted from the dining hall on Wednesdays. Such refreshment was personified in a letter recent ly received by the editors . . . we think you’d be interested in reading the opinion of this former Mars Hillian.) Box 202, Meredith, Raleigh, North Carolina, February 15, 1945. Dear Bob: Not a month has passed this year that I didn’t receive a copy of The Hilltop, and I can honest ly say that I look forward to that more than any other mail I get. Every issue has been just won derful, but honestly the one I re ceived this morning just “topped” them all. Now that it is getting to be so much like spring here in Raleigh, with the flowers beginning to bloom and the grass turning green, there’s a little something in the heart of a Mars Hillian that makes him homesick for “the Hill.” When you can’t stand on Edna Moore Hall and look at Bailey as it clothes itself in the dress of spring, when you can’t sit in the Little Circle and see those lovely trees shading paths that have been “worn thin” by so many past “Hillians,” and even when you can’t sit in church there and watch the patterns the sun makes as it shines through the windows, that is when you really get homesick. The little article, “Mars Hill Is A Place Where . . .” in the Hilltop was one of the finest de scriptions, and I would almost say the finest tribute, I’ve ever heard paid to “the Hill.” Just don’t ever forget that Mars Hill is all of that and more, and that the students coming there after you leave are depending on you to pass that spirit to them. Thank you. Hilltop staff, for making it possible for me to take a trip every month to Mars Hill through your Hilltop! Best wishes for one who will always be a Mars Hillian; Frances Pope. Blonde, business-like, efficient, and thoroughly delightful is what we call the owner of the face above this bit of biography. She’s a devotee of Hugo’s works—high school French influ ence doing its bit. Just to prove she’s “sharp” on her other fiction authors she possesses a fond admiration for W. Sommerset Maugham’s The Razor’s Edge. “To be frank; No!” she doesn’t care for poetry a great deal. White Cliffs of Dover is an ex ception, however. Instead she dramatically persists — not haughtily—that she enjoys por traying the ‘“snub-like, haughty women” behind the footlights. Her interest in mythology has a definite culmination—Clio the muse of history. She’s been historian as well as treasurer of her society. Her ability of excel lent portrayal resulted in her being selected president of the Dramateers. Her lovely person ality, definite efficiency, and thoroughness have succeeded in j placing the following honors on her excellent record: Internation al Relations Club president. Hill top staff reporter, Sunday school superintendent, and college mar shall. Ronald Hill ?as :he This tall, broad-shoulde(^u Hillian paused long enough ft*®^ the relation of his corney J jea int about the Wac, the Wave, and a: “Woe” to tell us that si^t} procedure is one of his favtftas pastimes. He runs like the bit” to Roy’s because he’s of these faithful “three a d* nts ohi people—not apples minus doctatj —milk shakes instead. n otl He’s the ninth of ten—chil4 m] this time—and he thoroughly le joys the practice he received^st conversation and association. likes “people” and aren’t we -,ffte P.S. The retiring Clio preside is glad too! e v nd ORIGINAL PLAY (Continued from Page 1) urer, were also installed. Miss Bonnie Wengert, director of the club, is considering the production of several one-act plays for classwork and for pre sentation at Dramatics Club meet ings. Her interest in Moore General is more than general, we insist. How can we help drawing cer tain conclusions when she admits that she enjoys the archery of Cupid . . . “Tonight We Love” and “In dian Love Call”—yoo-hoo, Cupid; where art thou?—are close con- testors for first place in her choice of a favorite song. She’s walking in the wake of other students in making plans for entrance into Wake Forest college next year. From there her aspirations lead to Louisville Seminary and mission work. It’s time for her to write a Rtter—her general interest . . then go hiking off in the com- H:s ability of simple stateni*jg and his Christian principles 'e into practice meant much to ut” Youth Revival. He’s studying the ministry; he has visionsf*®*^ han further service at Baylor 'jay, from there to regular pastobr ( work. lake osse His affinity for poetry cai>(a^| summed up as “anything i'f Robert Frost,” Browning’s “K\icce Ben Ezra;” and in the reaWf fiction he casts his vote for Robe. B( A Quest the My mind searched among willows and found No answer there. It dug deep in autumnal leaves and sobbed To find no peace. This native of Spindale sp* very little time spinning thd of leisure. He is the prei B.T.U. director, he was vice P* dent and chaplain of the Phis and Anniversary terms reS tively. He “arguebates” on negatU'e side of compulsory * tration of labor disputes in Forensic Council. To prove agility as negative debater cently emerged as the leading*'— representative in debate for c s N mencement finals tell time % He likes music—something^ and dreamily pensive—for 3 . . . He also likes the eruJg of the Scriblerus Club andS story of Swift. 3 It walked on stones of sharpened hate and thrust A fear within my heart. It gazed into the meditation of a sinking sun and grasped A tiny beam of pensive peace. of It flowed in lonely streams thought and quenched Its thirsty soul. It probed in mists of human tears and voiced A pleading prayer. —Lillian Miller. We’re sure his family is S he’s a Hill, and we’re just aSJ he’s a Mars Hillian. § pany of . . . tomato sand"'ifl chocolate pie, and milk. 5 We’re sure you’d enjoy 13 along—she’s one grand » panion! it FORENSIC SQUAD .3 (Continued from Page lor; Women, Evelyn Brool^ Norma Minges. After ^9 Speakers, Men, Thomas Ronald Hill; Women, Lillia*’Bfi^ ler, Evelyn Brookshire.
Mars Hill University Student Newspaper
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March 10, 1945, edition 1
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