North Carolina Newspapers

    Page 2.
The Hilltop
Plain Living and High Thinking
Published by the Students of Mars Hill College, Mars Hill,
North Carolina.
Entered as seeond-class matter February 20, 1926, at the Post
bff'ce-at Mars' Hill, North Carolina, under the Act of March 3, 1879.
I.sfue ’emi-lnonthly during the college year.
Su's ’•intion Rate Year $1.00
:EH o in-Chii Sigsbee Miller
; As • ' e Editor Ed Long
:Mana’-'ng Editor Peggy Chesson
Sports Editor (Boys) Jerry Marion
Sports Editor i Girls) Louvene Jordan
Feature Editor Phyllis Ann Gentry
Busine ; Manager Dovie Tallent
Art Editor Doris Johnson
Ad''ert’sing Manager Lib Foster
A.'-sistant Advertising Manager Jean McCurry
Ci” ”'ption Manager Mary Evelyn Crook
Typist Tommie Wright
Inez Wyatt . Lois Harris . Ruth Forester . Tommy Stapleton . Betty
Weaver . Jerry Saville . Cornelia Vann . Alton Harris
Advisor Ramon DeShazo
Volume XX.
March 20, 1946.
Number 11.
An un'wrLtten but ironclad law of the fourth estate decrees that
once a year all self-respecting editors take it upon themselves to in
form their readingt public, via the editorial columns, that Spring has
come. The annual Spring opus takes on many forms. With playful
roguishness, the editor will hint, “In the Spring a young man’s
fancy, etc.’’ He who is of a particularly witty turn will lead off with
that veteran stand-by, “Spring is sprung, the sap has rizz, I wonder
where the flowers is.’’ Still another will rush the seasons to demand
ecstatically, “What fs so rare as a day in June?’’
In all probability. Spring has arrived at Mars Hill. It appears to
be well entrenched for. its formal coming out tomorrow. And all the
signs are holding true. Young men’s fancies are turning more and
more to the girls’ dorms and away from all-male sessions of cokes
and politics at Larry’s. The sap has rizz, as far as we know, and the
flowers are here—great clusters of jonquils, which grow in pro
fusion around the Big Circle but which are something of a rarity
on Faculty Hill, as midnight raiders from Sprinkle can testify.
Our cartoonist, in a fit of misanthropy and pessimism induced,
no doubt, by chilly memories of the Christmas exodus, has depicted
elsewhere on this page a not-so-pleasant scene. But with fingers
crossed, the Hilltop, on the eve of the five-day Spring reprieve, an
nounces the formal debut of Spring, 1946, and wishes you a merry
holiday in which overturned buses and snowy roads will be nothing
more than a three-months old memory. —S. M.
The Labor Problem-
Work can be fun! That is hard to believe, especially after the
week we’ve just been through, but it is true nevertheless. To appre
ciate just what is meant by this, one must understand the term work.
To most people work is what we do for a living—what we earn
money by doing, and here our work brings in grades instead of dol
lars and cents. There is something more to work than that.
Do you like to make people happy? Of course you do. Well then,
every bit of work done by each one of us helps to make someone,
perhaps many, happy. It is work for us to put out this paper, which
affords enjoyment for you. It was work, hard work, studying for
all those tests, but the teachers found satisfaction in the fact that
their efforts for half a term had not been in vain.
The plays that were presented to offer recreation for you last
students had to have just as many tests as you did. Their term papers
• Saturday evening required many long hours of diligent work. Those
were due the very same day yours was. Their study hours were given
over to rehearsals. Yes, it was work, hard work, but you found enjoy
ment, recreation from their work; therefore their work became fun
to them. Turn your thoughts to the common laborer for a moment.
Those who labor to build automobiles make it possible for people to
go places, and going places is fun. Those who dig the ditches and
build the highways on which we travel make our trips more enjoy
Then the professional laborer—the doctor and the nurse spend
hours restoring people to happy and normal lives; the scientist,
through work, shortens his own life to make life happier for someone
else; and the teacher gives everything to help fight ignorance. The
typist who types an order for goods helps to give the seller, as well
as the buyer of those goods, real pleasure. So it goes. I dare you to
think of some piece of real work, from mowing a lawn to designing
a yacht, that does not bring pleasure to someone. I doubt if you suc
ceed. So, as we work, we may gain satisfaction from the thought
that we are doing our bit to give people pleasure and to make life
a little safer or easier for others. That should be fun! —.I.S.
For the common things of every
God gave man speech in the com
mon way.
And He gave to the poet words to
The deeper things men think and
But for heights and depths no
words could reach,
God gave man music, the soul’s
own speech.
Surely, music is the speech of the
soul and the speech of angels.
What other experience is there
than that of living with music
that can match or produce so
many varying moods? The lilting
strains of a waltz, the haunting
breath of a nocturne, the stirring
power of a march—these are a
few of the types of music and the
feelings brought about by them.
One can be carried far away from
time and place by the whisper of
a violin, the rolling of a drum,
and the call of a trumpet, the
sweeping harmony of an organ,
and the simple beauty of a sing
ing voice. Listen, and appreciate,
and love that thing called music.
Each part of the perfect whole
Must in itself be perfect.
And so, the master musician,
gauging his tempo
By the tick, tock, tick of the
Counts each beat individually.
Mechanically it would seem
To one who loves not music.
But can it be called mechanical
When such minute perfection
Is gilded and made more glorious
By the depth of feeling.
By the ardent, soul-filling love.
And by the passionate longing for
More beautiful than all the treas
ures ’
That earth can hold—
That only one who loves music
can know?
For to love music is to love
The presence of angels.
The soft glow of a full moon
Upon each tiny flake of freshly-
driven snow
That rests , upon the silence of the
Through gnarled branches
Of ancient, weather-beaten ghosts
of trees.
To love music is to love
The voice of God.
To love music is to live music.
To create a symphony for a smile.
And concerto from a deed of kind
A nocturne from a word of hope.
And to tune another’s ear so that
he, too.
May love music.
—Phyllis Ann Gentry..
Chapel Schedule
Mai’ch 20: Music Department.
March 21-26: Spring Holidays.
March 27: Speech Class.
March 28: Advisee Day.
March 29: Mr. Kendall.
Norma Minges
Norma Minges, Mars Hill’s
Sarah Bernhardt, was born May
14, 1926, at Gastonia, N. C. She
spent her last three years in and
was graduated from Lowell High
school in the town by the same
name, N. C.
While there she was president
of the dramatics club, and a
member of a debating team that
won second place in the state two
consecutive years. She was also
chaplain of her home room in
both her junior and senior year.
She received, along with quite a
few other young people over the
country, a high school diploma in
May, 1944.
The next fall found her en
rolled in a junior college in West
ern North Carolina, called Mars
Hill college. From the first minute
her ability was recognized, she
Was given many responsible jobs
in extra-curricular activities. She
was secretary and then vice-
president of her Sunday school
class last year, and she became
a member of the Dramateers and,
of course, the forensics team.
When that team journeyed to
Charlotte for the Dixie Tourna
ment of 1945, she came away with
seven first-place certificates. She
went to Chapel Hill last spring
with the Dramateers. She won the
Temperance Reading contest and
the Dramatics Medal. .
Since September, 1945, she has
been anniversary vicyj-^resident
of the Clios and president of the
Dramateers, with jobs such as sec
ond vice-president of her Sunday
school class and group captain of
her Training union thrown in. She
plans again to .go to Chapel Hill
in April with the Dramateers.
Jack Rhodes is to be her chief
concern of the future, for he it
:he M
“nan t
Bobby Barnes ' ®f 1
There is in our midst
meditative fellow who
glory in his own good
thoughts. He looks at
the vision of a Christiat^^ th
Barnes, another product'
tral High School of ^ ‘
N. C., came to the mout*^ the
get closer to God and to ^
the work he has been .
do. The value of his
life and spiirt has beei*'^^''
nized. He has been el* ^
President of the Classkf^'^'
vice-president of the
Conference, Secretary \
thalian Literary Society>'
urer of the B.S.U. Coui^ "u
proctor of Landers Cottsi
ing Youth Revivals he iv^^ti
M s
to us the message of
last year and this year. ^ ^
blond scalp oceans of pla*
the nerve cells of his
lobes. For instance, for
ing summer the spirit of
lust” has secreted into t jjJ
stream the fire to see
by means of his thurn*’'!
though he dislikes school^^^
tends to attain by his I^^ativ*
ance a doctor’s degree,
good lesson in ethics. In f j^g’ j
with his high ambitionSnj.j^ .
tends to go to Wake Foe
year and then to a semin*'
eyes and preaching th®
tgo luffoT* ic Vila fTAol Q Tld ^ vfj
the latter is his zeal, and'
mer is the color of his
evident that wherever h®.*^
whatever he does, he '"'o,.
success. God has made
and Bobby will fulfill it. '
y ti]
f’l •
was who slipped that
her fourth finger, left h>^^ ®
is planning a Little
group, but “the rest of ^
center around Jack,” she

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