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Page 28 text:
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By Rose Marie Letten, '45
THE actual finding of a bargain, an
advantageous. purchase, is seldom
the result of the tiring experience of
bargain hunting. Bargain hunting
may well be defined as a transaction
or event involving good or bad conse-
quences , usually involving the lat-
ter. For examplei let us consider the
experience of a certain Mrs. Jones.
Mrs. Jones rises one bright spring
morning without even the slightest
notion of what is in store for her
that day. Drowsily she picks up the
morning news and scans its pages
with herhalf-opened eyes. She is in
the midst of a very wide yawn, when
suddenly something catches her eye
'which immediately stirs her interest.
those words which always bring a
thrill to the hearts of economic house-
wives- Big Bargain Sale .
Thought after thought goes buz-
zing through Mrs. Jones's now wide
awake brain as to when the store
opens, how long it will take to get
there, whom to get to stay with the
baby, and how much time she has.
After quickly glancing at her watch,
she heaves a sigh, for that glance'
has told her she has but forty-five
minutes. Her mathematical mind be-
gins functioning and in a few seconds
she has conceived that she has to al-
low at least twenty-five minutes for
the ride to town, leaving the slight
sum of only twenty minutes to get
The rush is on! She dashes to the
phone and after getting the wrong
number. and the busy signal several
times, she finally gets in touch with
the girl next door, who agrees to
stay with Junior. To help matters,
Junior begins to cry' and after run-
ning back to his room, Mrs. Jones
finds him on the floor, where he had
fallen trying to climb out of his crib.
When she has sufficiently soothed
him, she hurries to dress. Finally
she is ready and dashes out of the
house, giving Mary Jane lastminute
instructions on how to care for
Junior. ' ' '
Mrs. Jones, half lrunning, half
walking, makes her way' to the car
line. Just as she reaches the stop,
a car goes whizzing by, leaving her
6 ,,,,, ,.,,, ,
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standing there a bit disgusted. After
a few minutes' Wait, 'she catches the
next car. Nervously she glances at
her watch every few minutes, won-
dering whether or not she will arrive
in time. On and on the street car
creepsg Mrs. Jones has reached town.
Hurriedly she makes her wav down
the crowded street, dodging this per-
son and running into the next, until
she reaches the store which is having
the sale. .
Just as she reaches the entrance of
the store where hundreds of other
bargain hunters are waiting to cnt-er,
the bell rings and the doors swing
open. As a fish is drawn into a
wild, spinning whirlpool, so Mrs.
Jones is drawn into the even wilder
crowd. She elbows her way through
as best shecan saying, Excuse me ,
in her most polite manner when she
has jabbed someone in the ribs fac-
cidentally, of coursej.
Since the shoe sale, the one which
she is interested in, is on the second
floor, she has the perplexing problem
of getting into an elevator. Several
times just as she is about to step into
an elevator, the operator calls out
in a very sweet tone, Next car,
please ! At last Mrs. Jones success-
fully makes her way into an elevator
and feebly says, Second floor,
Having reached the second floor,
she peers around for the shoe tablesi
She has now arrived on the outskirts
of the crowd surrounding what she
has found to be the shoe tables. Since
she cannot see the shoes for the
crowd, she decides to shove her arm
through and grasp whatever shoe she
can get her hands on. '
After many unsuccessful attempts
to and quite a few embarrassing sit-
uations, our Mrs. Jones finally gets
hold of a shoe. On examining it she
finds it to be her size, the color she
wants, and the right style, just the
thing for her Easter outfit. But, oh,
my, Mrs. Jones then realizes that she
has but one shoeg the other must be
found. The struggle with the crowd
is on again. Attempt after attempt
is unsuccessful, but to Mrs. Jones's
delight, she finally finds the mate
Now there remains but one prob-
lem, that of getting someone to wait
on her. What a problem it is, with
so many people and so few sales-
girls! Mrs. Jones waits, and waits,
and waits some more, until finally,
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just before she collapses from sheer
exhaustion, a salesgirl comes to her-
aid. In a few seconds the package
is wrapped and handed to her Kmaybe
thrown at ,her would express it bet-'
'Wearily our Mrs. Jones makes her
way out of the store, carrying her
precious bundle and for the first time
in ,hours breathes in some good fresh
Having stood up all the way on
the street car, Mrs. Jones at last
reaches her home in most exhausted
condition. Feebly she opens the door
and throws her weary self down to
rest on the lounge. After relaxing
for a few minutes, Mrs. Jones decides
to take a good look at her prize pack-
age. As she opens the wrapper,
thoughts of the wonderful bargain
she has found, and how lovely the
shoes will look with her new outfit
float through her mind.
Eagerly she opens the lid of the
box, folds back the inside paper, and
--1 Mrs. Jones sinks down
against the back of the lounge, heav-
ing a sigh of woe, the tears about to
roll down her forlorn face.-1
She has been given the wrong pack-
The Art Of
Marie Louise Tureau, '45 .
THE joy of seeing the cool, clear,
water shining like diamonds under
Diana's gentle beams: the lucid sands
of numerous colorsg the dull green
sea weed that playfully clings to
your legs 3 the empty flounder-beds
that mark the once temporary home
of that fish-those among' other
things are the pleasures of flounder-.
ing. In competition with the moon
above, I carried the glowing death
torch of the flounder-the light that
will lead the way to the hiding place
of my prey. The sharp spear, pa-
tiently awaiting the sight of its vic-
tim, glitters wickedly under the
watchful eye of Venus and the Big ' g
Bear. The waters part at my every
step, revealing schools of fishes hur-
rying as though 'they were going to
a bargain sale. At closer observation,
I saw orange luminous lights, ,darting
through the waters like greased light-
ning. It is these shrimp that are pur-
sued by masses of leaping mullets
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Page 27 text:
41 3, ,
.R . x l-r, Mx,
atedl now for over a year, and it's
such a task to have to write all he
wants to say.
But now let's take 'a look at poor
Benq Ben is one of those rare per-
sons who in their spare moments,
further obligate their friends by
sending added news in an unreadable
scrawl. Never a day goes by that
Ben doesn't write a letter, but seldom
are his friends as quick in answering
him. Because his love of letter writ-
ing is known so well, his friends
never think of answering him until
they have received three or four let-
ters. Some, like the person about
whom we've just spoken, never
answer him at allg but this never
bothers Ben. He knows how hard it
is for some people to write letters,
and how all people love to receive
them, so he keeps on writing. There
aren't very many people who really
appreciate Ben, but the few who do
treasure his letters and write to him
as often as they can.
While I have dissertated upon
the two extremes in letter writing,
I've not mentioned the person who
is in between. There really isn't
much to say about him, for this per-
son, if given enough time, will gen-
erally answer all the letters he re-
ceives and loves to make new friends
numerous to mention in this paper.
so that heican write to them ffor a
little while at leastl. This character
is the average letter-writer, and there
we shall let it rest, for every person
has his idiosyncracies, which are too
In addition to the few general
types of letter writer given above,
there are many special styles. Many
persons, in fact, are in, a class by
themselves, but there isn't room in
this paper to mention them. I But in'
closing let me say that this essay
has made me more conscious of my
own letter writing, and that of my
friends. I wish we could see one
an'other's faces, and watch the chang-
ing expressions as we read our let-
ters. I'm sure it would be a sight
to behold. Next time you receive
a letter, remember your reaction, and
when you meet your friend, compare
notes with him as to his reaction
when he received one of your letters.
I imagine that there would be many
surprises if we really did such a
thing. And, it might make us more
careful of what we say. K V
Barbara Terry, '45.
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By Anne Gulledge
IN the spring a young man's fancy
lightly turns to thoughts of love,
but a young boy's fancy turns to
marbles. When the March winds
come roaring and capering through
the towns, theitrees are covered with
verdure, and the dainty spring flow-
ers sprightly nod their bonneted
heads at each passerbyg a young
boy's pockets are' filled with many
things-tops and kitestring, but, espe-
cially marbles. What a reverie of en-
chanting thoughts comes to your
mind of those miniature balls of mul-
tifarious colored marble, which are
not really marble, but glass. Breathes
there a man in these United States
who has never played an exciting
game of marbles, or does not even
proudly boast that he once played
Of course, everyone knows that
the object of this thrilling game is to
knock the marbles out-of the ring.
A great majority of the American
youths play the commonly known
game of ringers, but there are ap-
proximately twenty-Hve other varia-
tions of this 'popular game. There are
a number of rules, which are often
quite as complicated as those in foot-
ball, but they vary from time to
time, therefore, there is no reason
either to confuse or bore the reader
here with any complicated instruc-
tions on how to win a marble tourna-
ment or how to play marbles. You
may secure the principal rules from
any school boy.
We have heard from some old
legend, which was told by an an-
tiquated yarn-spinner, who is now
both obscure in our memory and
moldering into dust, that George
Washington and Thomas Jefferson
M omin g
Dorothy Brisbi, '45
The first morning .runbeams slipped
b through the trees,
As :be sky in the east turned gold.
.Rosy-edged clouds in splendor proclaimed
The beauty of God for men to 'bebol:l.
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ranked among the best
players of their time. Forthis, reason
many Americans probably believe: -fl'
that marbles are just as American
as the corner drugstore andthe sun- .,
dae, but this is not true. The child-'1 -
hood game of marbles dates backito'
antiquity and is common to all peo- 'A
ples. Although the origin is shadow-K fi g,
ed with doubt, we 'often find a clue, W
if we search diligentlyfand far enough A 'F
back into history. ,
Some have the firm opinion' that - A
it was a marble, instead of a pebble, V il
that little David used in his celebrat-I ,gigs
ed clash with the giant Goliath. Per- K H-if
haps this is true. Who can be the 94
judge? Marbles have been found in if
the time-defying pyramids of the
Egyptian pharaohs. When the Colon- f '31-1
ists landed at Plymouth Rock the .--1-.ig
elusive Indians were playing their 'F
version of marbles with round stones s
in the cool, green depths of the shady
forests. Their game was strangely '
similar to the one which our fore- A,
fathers had played in merry England ' '31 R,-
for an unknown number of centures.
Yet, we cannot give the English the ' '
credit for marbles. We do not know 1
who brought the first marbles to . Q
Britain, but it could easily have been ,
the stalwart Romans, who were lured '-
to Engiand by the white chalk cliffs'
in fifty-five B. C. In the highly
advanced and civilized 'Roman nation
nuts were frequently used for mar-
bles. However, we must not assume
that the ancient Roman was the
father of marbles, because the Mound
Builders in the New World placed.
marbles, along with their other valued
possessions, in their mounds in order
to still possess them when they ar-
rived at the Happy Hunting Grounds.
We, likewise, have proof that the
Aztecs of Mexico and the Mayas of
Yucatan and Guatemala played mar-
bles. You may argue that scientists
generally think that the ancestors of
the Indians originally came, from
Asia, crossed the Bering Straits to
Alaska, and gradually roamed and n
drifted southward somewhere be-
tween twelve thousand and twenty
thousand years ago.
Every man must have his own
opinions, therefore, I merely 'place
these crumbling bits of evidence, at,
your disposal in order that you finay '
weigh and consider them, and, after'
much consideration, make your own -
decision concerning this age-old
mystery. ' 'al
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Page 29 text:
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and golden-tinted croakers. Such are
the night, time and place where my
floundering trip occurred. -
Of course when I go floundering,
I always wear clothes and shoes
'fwhich have seen better days , be-
cause I sometimes do not see those
empty flounder-beds, some of which
are pretty deep and mucky, and I
actually come up from them, wet to
my knees. Some people, I know, love
the idea of going floundering bare-
footed, but I do not recommend that
to beginners in the delightful sport,
since my friends, the flounder-beds,
sometimes contain tiny sand-crabs
and homeless fish. X
'To distingush the flounder from
the stingray beds, indeed requires
skill beyond just knowledge of flovun-
dering. Although I do have my spear
to defend myself, I never forget that
the stingray has two ends with which
to attack, while the only protective
power of the poor little flounder is
his ability to speed away from his
After years of walking, I finally
come upon something that resembles
the picture of a flounder that I have
once seen. Cautiously, groping my
way through the black night, I creep
up to the flounder, scarcely breath-
ing with fear that I might frighten
him away. It seems at this moment
of the game, I hear all theunocturnal
noises that might cause me to miss
my first flounder of the night. It is
not, of course, the fish of the fish-
erman's story ,.but just the idea of
seeing the ounder buried in the
sand runs a tingle of excitement up
and down my back. My thoughts race
back to the particulars a friend had
told me about catching a flounder:
Feel your way to about one foot
from his tailg then with all your
strength, spear him, right between
the eyes. With every care and cau-
tion, I take the final step, the step
that means the difference betwen
life and death, lof the flounder, I
meanl and plunge my spear in the
After the ruffled sand calms down
and the water changes its color from
white foam to a velvety smooth
greenish-blue, I can clearly see the
resultof my night of preparation.
There covered by Mother Nature's
means of protection lies a flat fish
of grayish-black hue, with two pierc-
ing eyes in his back. After much
squirming and flipping, the flounder
,,'-LJ . .'
finds his new home to be .the bot-
tom of a porous sack which I have
With a grin of satisfaction of
a deed well done, I hurry to the
beach and, literally, run home to our
cottage. To a person in this state of
mind, everything seems to be just
beautiful and supremely perfect. It
seems to me this night, the lady of
the moon is smiling at me brighter
than ever, and the stars, endlessly
winking and twinkling, also know of
my great success. Our little white
cottage is set far back among mas-
sive, stately pines of deep green and
dignified brown. What a beautiful
picture that makes is something for
a professional artist to describe. But,
back to my flounder!
Now to catch the flounder does in-
deed take skill, but to know just the
right way tocook it takes not just
knowledge, but experience. This seems
like an anti-climax to a good, spine-
tingling mystery story!
The best place to cook such a deli-
cacy is on an open barbecue pit when
all the outdoor is clean and full of
refreshing odors, plus, of course, the
less desirable ones that always seem
to tone down the smell of the spicy
pines, the feel of the cool, salty gulf
breeze, and the looks of the rich jet-
black mud. With all the care of hand-
ling a new-born baby, lay the floun-
der on the shining- grate over the
.red-hot coals. Then daub it well with
a sauce of melted butter and season-
ings. One of the most delightful
things about eating this king of all
fish, is that a flounder has only
back-bones. The rest of his priceless
meat is left free of the -piercing
milk-white spears . After. it has
been turned to a golden brown hue,
garnish it with sprays of parsley,
lemon slices and olives, and you have
a dish fit for the gods.
Spring Is H ere! X
' Edna Leer, '45
What could be fresher than the rain,
Splushing on my window pane?
It has a message to convey,
To all the lovely flowers of May.
To little flowers growing about,
It 3-gems to whisper and to shoutf
lVahe now, little flowers, have no fear,
Wake now, little flowers, Spring is here!
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W ell, Of All
,Peggy Robert, '45 Q1
ON THIS particular Saturday morn- .3
ing I had started for Biaham's ,
Butcher Shop early. At nine olclock
I boarded the bus -that would carry V pig
me to that establishment. Sitting
there I noticed' all the various types E'
of people entering this mode of ji
transportation-people as different E
as the ingredients of fruitcake. The ' 1
stout old gentleman on my right l-
greatly resembled a dried prune, but 'EL
the woman beside him reminded me ,.
of the weakest stringbean in our
victory garden. I was unable to in- QQ.
spect the rest of the passengers be- 'ggi
cause we were ,nearing my corner. Aggfff
Buzz, buzz, buzz went the buzzer
and off I got, off the cozy, dry bus f
into damp, sultry streets filled with
war workers rushing to their re-
spec-tive plants, business men dash-
ing to 'their offices, school girls, j-F
bee-lining it to the lakefront and .
parks, and--ah, yes, housewives rush-
ing to Biaham's Butcher Shop. . -A
I noticed for the first' time since
my departure from the Public Serv-
ice's conveyance, the seemingly end-
less swarm of women, hurrying .to-
ward the door of one little shop
down the block. So I, knowing it
had to be done, followed the hurry-
ing, gossiping, chattering crowd of
women. Well, -I never did like
Mabel's hat, but I couldn't tell her.
John? Why he's been promotedg he's
a colonel. Oh, I?se sorry to heah
'bout Amos' death Mirandy, but I
just got a letter fum da wah depart-
ment telling me dat -1- -- --
--- and I can get a nice beef sir-
loin with my remaining twenty
points. Yes, walking among Women,
one can hear many.bits of conversa-
But, see, I've arrived at Biaham's
safe, sound, and unruffled, well, safe
and partly sound, anyway. Gosh,
this place is crowded.
May I get through.
Would you mind using your own
feet to stand on? ,
I shall at this point digress to re-
late one proceeding at Biaham's Land
other meat markets of our day, Pm
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