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Page 27 text:
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Page 26 text:
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TRAVEL A TRAGEDY IN THE LUNCH ROOM To see- The fairyland of cherry blossoms, Moonbeams on snow-capped Fujiyama. To hear- The incessant jargon and chatter, Silver temple bells a tinkling. To see, to hear- japan. To view- The Nile, pyramids, ancient temples, Vast stretches of sand meeting the golden sky. To experience- Curiosity for musty ages, Thrill of mysterious atmosphere. To view, to experience- Egypt- To visit- Ivy-grown manors with rolling lawns, Grim, staunch, old castles of bygone times. To know- All poets in Westminster Abbey, London from Temple Bar to Soho Square. To visit, to know- England. But first to roam- Fields, woodlands, rivers, mountains, cities, The States from Maine to California. To walk- Wall Street and Fifth Avenue in New York, Each Main Street in little one-horse towns. And always to roam, to walk- The United States. GLADYS KOEHLER, ENG. viuc TWENTY-TWO WENTY-TWO. My time had come! Trembling from head to foot, I walked to my fate. I heard nothing, I saw only the wall where it was to happen. I became weaker, and my knees failing me alto- gether, I slid limply down, blindly groping for a sup- port. My searching fingers found something or other projecting from the wall, and I dropped thankfully upon it. No one noticed my actions. No one cared as to what was happening to me. Was there no mercy? I took one glance at the batteries trained upon me and resigned myself to my inevitable fate. I dimly remember, Lift up your headlv Yes, I thought, I will take it like a man. Then- Ready? the same voice inquired. Repulsing a demon- ical urge to laugh, I stiffened, threw up my chin, mois- tened my lips, and nodded, Yes. Moments stretched into hours. Would he never shoot? Next. Twenty- three. Oh, girls! wasn't it just too thrilling though, and really, my dear, wasn't that photographer cute? ROBERT STONE, ENG. vmc E WERE sitting at a crowded table in the old lunch room. The usual lunch-hour noises-the metal- lic clatter of trays, the rattle of dishes, the scraping of wood against concrete, the chatter and hum of carefree conversation, merry laughter-met our ears, but my companion did not hear them. He stared down at the tray before him with eyes that saw nothing. His face wore a look of worried, puzzled concentration. His eye- brows were drawn down, as were the corners of his mouth. His left elbow was propped on the edge of the table, and his cheek lay against his fist. With his free hand he toyed with the straw which protruded from a small milk bottle, now empty. His shoulders drooped, his legs were drawn up under his chair. What's wrong, old fellow? I asked, consolingly. Lessons worrying you? Naw,,' he muttered. Can't decide whether to eat pie or ice cream first. N OSES ooo noses are my hobby-probably because I havenft one. They have always been objects for speculation at any gathering, social or otherwise. Even study halls furnish a variety of specimens. Ar present there is a very long, irregular, prying, blonde nose in the seat in front of me. It gives me a profile view quite often inferring that it is really worth- while. A Roman nose several aisles to the right is slight- ly bent over Tennyson. When that individual frowns, which he does frequently, the nose becomes more Roman. If I judged people by noses, and I do, I would have a great dislike for the blonde nose. My judgment would denounce the person as shallow and as a follower of the line of least resistance. The other nose is not quite so disgusting in my estimation, for sullen people quite often are justified in their sullenness. The nose of my ideals is straight, neither broad nor thin, humped, curled, or turned up. It fits a balanced face with regular features. I see it every day, but even if it were mine it wouldn't fit my face. MADELINE SANDER SUNSET HEN the day is gone And the setting sun Sinks deep In the golden west, When cares are done, Your treasures won, And the birds Have gone to rest, You, too, will find In the twilight time Sweet peace and happiness. JANET K. WISCHMEIER, ENG. vinc E241
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