Page Two
THE HILLTOP. MARS HILL COLLEGE. MARS HILL. N. C.
Nov. 13.1950
The Hilltop
PLAIN LIVING AND HIGH THINKING
Published by the Students of Mars Hill College, Mars Hill, N. C.
Entered as second-class matter February 20, 1926, at the Postoffice
at M :vs Hill, North Carolina, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Pub
lished 3.mI-monthiy during the college year.
Suascrlpacn Rate Year $1.00
Ed.tor-in-Ch;ef Ilda Lide
Associate Editor Nancy Craig
-Exchange Editor Freida Stiles
i ta^urc Editor Frances Willingham
'.Managing Ed.tor Gene Roberts
Sp-rls Editors Ruth Ellen Monroe and Jim Martin
Circulation Manager Tom Simmons
Advertising Managers Bernice Limer and Jimmy Niedemyer
-Assistant in Sports Kenneth Anders
Assis ant in Circulation Glen Holt
Typist Margaret Morgan
Faculty Advisers Nora Wills and Collie Garner
CONTRIBUTORS
Winnie Luff man, Sue Eller, Brooksie Me Gee, Louise Norwood, Jo-
Anne Schwab, Tom Curtis, Hartford Lennon, Elizabeth Bridges, Bar
bara Ellis, Carolyn Winberry, Bobbie Jean Nicholson, Zoe Harmon,
Luther Mann, Dale Torrence, Betty Young.
Volume XXV November 13, 1950 Number 4
The last strains of music died from the air, but the
heart-stirring melody of our national anthem refused to
leave my mind. As I pondered over the significance of
that immortal song, I realized that it is a prayer, a
prayer that the fiag of free men will always wave over
this land of ours. My mind continued to dwell on the sub
ject, and I was aware that this great prayer is unanswer
ed on our campus. Our flagpole stands naked in the sun
like the skeleton of a prayer that is dead.
We have broken faith with the great men who have
given their lives to preserve our flag. Unselfishly they
gave their lives that it might be flown. Yet, we are un
willing to take the time and trouble to fly it. Can we call
ourselves Americans when we do not honor our flag and
the things it stands for? The men who rest in foreign
soil, the men crippled by war, these are Americans, be
cause they have done something for America. We are
merely unappreciative people who, by the grace of God,
were fortunate enough to be born in this land. These men
love the stars and stripes; they glory to see them flutter
in a breeze. DO YOU? —G.E.F.
QpiMiuats-
Courage is definitely not something an individual is
born with or without. Courage can be cultivated. Un
fortunately, though, some folk have deeply-instilled in
hibitions that can very easily hamper wholesome develop
ment of any nature, let alone that of courage. Intelligent
fears should be a part of one’s jud'gment, while ground
less fears form an anny to defeat every endeavor of him
who has them.
Each of us has the ability to do something that to
someone else would seem courageous. Probably the only
reason we do not realize this fact is because some demon
strations are more public or more obvious than others.
When someone performs a feat of daring, it is character
istic of the average observer to brand him immediately
as one possessed o*f courage. Mr. Average Observer would
never guess that this same daring fellow might “burn up
a pair of shoes” to avoid meeting his mother-in-law face
to face, or cringe miserably in the presence of a puffed-
out police uniform.
The tight-rope walker did not take his first walk on a
rope forty feet high with no net beneath. He started at a
safe height with the aid of a good instructor and the pro
tection of the safety devices necessary for his preserva
tion. If he had found after repeated attempts that he had
not the balance needed in the profession, his fear of
walking a high rope over cement would be an intelligent
one indeed. To attempt to walk a rope under these cir
cumstances would be as good a method of self-
annihilation as one can think of.
On the other hand, the skilled rope walker has to
guard continually against his thoughts dwelling on the
improbable. If he does not, fears will develop to distort
his balance, unsettle his nerves and lead to disaster.
Any individual should stop, think and dominate his
groundless fears in order to investigate the obstacle be
fore him intelligently and in proper perspective. He can
then decide whether his attempt to conquer it is ad
visable.
Again, courage can be cultivated; nobody is defeated
at birth. Some necessary elements in the process of culti
vation are intelligent introspection, self-confidence (prop
erly evaluated in the light of previous experience), and
the desire to accomplish. —Ted Haggai.
You Just fynWia
Getting out a newspaper is no picnic. If we print jokes,
people say we’re silly. If we don’t they say we’re too se
rious. If we stick to the off’ice all day, we ought to be out
hunting material. If we go out and try to hustle, we
ought to be on the job at the office. If we don’t print con
tributions, we don’t appreciate'genius; and if we do print
’em, the paper is full of junk.
If we edit the other fellow’s writeup, we’re too critical.
If we don’t, we’re asleep. If we clip from other papers,
we’re too lazy to write them ourselves. If we don’t we’re
stuck on our own stuff.
Now, like as not, some guy will say we swiped this from
some newspaper. We did.
From the Wake Forest Old Gold & Black who swiped
it from the University of Miami Hurricane who borrowed
it from the University of Houston who swiped it from
The Daily Texan who swiped it from Texas A & M who
swiped it from someone else.
ia tUe
This article is designed along the lines of a lemon
party—that type of party where everybody gets together
and tells everybody else what is wrong with them and
nobody gets mad. Its purpose is self-improvement. Your
roving reporter wandered among the students to find the
opinions of the different sexes toward each other, and
following is the question, asked and the responses of a
few girls.
Question: What do you think is wrong with the
fellows?
Here are the answers:
Many of the fellows are too loud and boisterous. No
girl likes to be knocked over each time a boy comes
along.
Some boys think if you date them once or twice you
are going steady.
Certain fellows would be beititer liked and appreciated
if they frequented a barber shop, acquired a little more
neatness, and dressed up for concerts and other gala
occasions.
Some of them think that every girl who smiles at them
has a crush on them.
They’re either too shy or too bold; they’re either too
serious or not serious enough.
Boys do not realize that everything on campus is free—
shows and meals—when on a date. Why don’t they wake
up and take the opportunity to use these privileges?
All too many of them are too bashful to ask a girl for
a date.
Most of the boys take girls for granted too much.
Numerous boys act like “mama’s little darlings.”
They’re silly!
They should treat a girl with all consideration and
courteousness instead of acting as if she is lucky to be
dating such a big wheel.
Some young hopefuls should ask a girl for a date ahead
of time instead of just being around to eat supper and
walk up the hill.
A good many of them are too indiflFerent. They
shouldn’t expect more than they can give.
All too many of them think they can date a different
girl every night and have them all remain true to him.
The trouble with the boys is that they don’t trouble
me enough!!
0. K., Fellows. There it is, and it wasn’t censored,
either. Take it or leave it, and in the next issue you’ll
get your chance to gripe.
As the sun begins to quit the sky and another day
fades into night, man longs for a power stronger than
his own to guide him safely through the night. Others at
the close of the day are compelled by their joyful hearts
to give thanks unto the One who so graciously lends us
our very breath for that day.
Throughout the years we have seen man create a beau
tiful picture as he kneels at the close of day in his corn
field, on the broad prairie, in a fishing boat, or in the
solitude of his own home.
Whether we come to the end of a perfect day or a try
ing day at Mars Hill, students find themselves lifting up
their eyes 'unto the hills from whence cometh their help.
Truly their help cometh from the Father who made hea
ven and earth as well as the day and night.
Each evening we thank God for His daily mercies, yet
once a week we as a campus are fortunate to have the
opportunity of coming together and in one body raising
our praises to our Caring Father. Vespers each Thursday
has become a treasure chest of minutes containing stu
dent speeches, music, guest speakers once monthly, and
most of all, precious moments of communing with God.
This bountiful treasure chest is a personal gift to each
Mars Hill student who will take advantage of the Thurs
day evening vesper services.
WUiJfen^'i, Whimi, |
Out come the scarves and gloves and earmuffs, for
Jack Frost has finally made his appearance. Now the
Florida and Georgia folks are wishing up that snow they
want to see “for the first time.”
The Hallowe’en parties were a huge success—^Charlie
Tomlinson, as the chief gypsy, proved himself as good a
song leader as a leader of school cheers. Jewel Beaufort
and Mary Mixon seemed to be “old hands” at oiperating
the House of Horrors at Stroup. Dot Rose Morgan really
worked at making the social life at Huffman tops, and
Jill Scruggs in those snazzy brown pedal-pushers was
seen rushing around like mad on the afternoon before
the big night. Don’t worry, kids, your work wasn’t in
vain ’cause we had a scrumptious time. Just think—it’s
not long till Christmas Holidays. Wonder why Barbara
Herrin is so anxious to see those ole’ stamping grounds
again? Christmas and then New Year and what next?
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Final exams—^whoa! Let’s get off that subject to more
pleasant topics.
By the way, tell me why—^there aren’t as many
“steady” couples as there were last year? Bill Bowen is
the S. P. of so many girls? Uncle Sam drafts all the cute
boys? All our work piles up at the same time? We can’t
all sing lovely as Anne Weber? Your roommate loves to
give you cold showers at such an inconvenient time? The
Gillespie twins are always late to Sunday School? Nick
hates to be called Zeh? You are all still reading this
article???
Speaking of snow and those Florida people—Phala
Jones became quite excited over the first snow of the
season as she made her first snowiball. And while we’re on
the weather, what about those unprepared girls who went
to the B.S.U. Convention with only light jackets? Re
grets were flying thick and fast in Raleigh that night
When the weather turned so cold.
Congratulations to the Marrs on the completion of var
their new home on High Scho*ol Ro-ad. Theirs is the addi- ^or
tion of another “country estate” to our own Mars Hill, fen
It is quite evident that they’re proud of it. T
Miss Caro^line was proud of Mars Hillians at the recent 'will
B.S.U. Convention. The State B.S.U. President, three of "eW
the soloists, the violinist and several others are former ®kili
students of Mars Hill. Miss Caroline had a delightful fher
trip, too. She stayed at her Alma Mater, Meredith, where ^
she was also dean of women at one time. ;cold
Winnie Luffman, Rebecca Jackson, Faye Pace and®^f*^ '
others are working hard on sandwiches for the girls to'"^*^^
buy in the play rooms on Friday nights during the break.®^°^
This is another two bits which might increase your sales,®®
girls, so what about a cut in the profits? No doubt you
are aware of how handy such things are. Th
Though it isn’t April, when those showers come your®^^*^^
way, let your smile be your umbrella. Rainy days are no,
exception at Mars Hill, but with the ideals of Mars Hill,^^'®’’
“plain living” and “high thinking” and hand and heart
lifted upward, the obstacles don't seem half so hard. TrJ
it and see!!! logy ,
Mai
jUlffe 96. WaUUuf.
Shall cannons roll in death again?
Shall humans writhe and cry in pain?
Shall tanks across our nation roll.
And blood run red on every knoll?
Shall man and wife be torn apart?
If so, when shall the fighting start?
Upon our streets shall children roam
Without a bread crust or a home?
It \
S'ho'p ;
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after
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laid.
Why must mortal man await
For the outcome of his fate?
Life is waiting, it is true,
Even now I wait for you.
—George Fleming.
Olerl
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9t^6 ^he> Jlvttle.
Each little wrong I do today.
Each time I show vain pride.
Each little sin along the way,
Reopens the master’s side.
Each little shove at fellow man,
Each time I try to be boss,
When I don’t do the best I can.
He’s nailed again to the cross.
Each little lust I yield to now.
Each kindness I leave undone,
Puts the thorn upon his brow,
God’s only begotten Son.
—George Fleming.