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          <addrLine>Joyner Library, East Carolina University</addrLine>
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        <date>2012</date>
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        <p>STAFF<lb /><lb />EDITOR i Sen. oe .........Roy Martin<lb />BUSINESS MANAGER... _David Smith<lb />ASSISTANTS TO EDITOR..___"""""SJZ. Alfred Willis<lb />Junius D. Grimes, III<lb />BOOK REVIEW EDITOR. es -Pat Farmer<lb />ASST. BOOK REVIEW EDITOR. Sue Ellen Hunsucker<lb />EXCHANGE EDITOR... pi neieae Carolista Fletcher<lb />ART STAFF __ ee OS A ee<lb />Bob Schmitz<lb />Larry Blizard<lb />John Goodhart<lb />ADVERTISING MANAGER __B. Tolson Wilson, Jr.<lb />wy Pisa: ne ine Sallie Carden<lb />FACULTY ADVISOR. Oe Williams Pierce<lb />NATIONAL ADVERTISING<lb />REPRESENTATIVES. College Magazines Inc.<lb />405 Lexington Avenue<lb />New York 17, New York<lb /><lb />CIRCULATION AND<lb />Pig os eg) 5. Renee ann<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />VOLUME IV SPRING, 1961 NUMBER 3<lb /><lb />TABLE OF CONTENTS<lb /><lb />EDITORIAL = =. ee ae ae ae Swe ee 3<lb />FEATURES<lb /><lb />Interview with Phillips Russell______________ ear alee Ee<lb /><lb />No Time for Generals, CSA by Dr. Robert Ww. Williams. cats 8<lb />ESSAY<lb /><lb />Immigrants in Willa CatherTs Prairie Novels by Elizabeth Pasti______23<lb />POETRY<lb /><lb />Pieces of Memory by Denyse Draper "-___________ ee<lb /><lb />Wind Walk by S. Pat Reynolds po. eae NE aa DAY<lb /><lb />The Passing by Milton G. Crocker prren See ee eT<lb />Interim by B. Tolson Willis, Jr.__-__-____-- Sin Salles ee 27<lb />Night Callers by Sue Ellen Hunsucker________ ie a<lb />Places by Sue Ellen Hunsucker.. a ee<lb />Call Me by James Lee Quinn, ITI es oa)<lb />The Harbor by Kay McLawhon ea eee : Sa o2 86<lb /><lb />ART<lb />Civil War Series by Larry Blizard<lb />Welded Sculpture__<lb />REBEL REVIEW<lb />Book Reviews by Dr. D. D. Cinite: Dr. Virginia Wille: pe Staff<lb /><lb />Cover by John Goodhart<lb /><lb />THE REBEL is published by the Student Government As-<lb />sociation of East Carolina College. Created by the Publica-<lb /><lb />tions Board of East Carolina College as a literary magazine<lb />to be edited by students and designed for the publication of<lb />student material.<lb /><lb />NOTICE"Contributions to THE REBEL should be direct-<lb />ed to P. O. Box 1420, E. C. C. Editorial and business offices<lb />are located at 30914 Austin Building. Manuscripts and art<lb />work submitted by mail should be accompanied by a self-<lb />addressed envelope and return postage. The publishers<lb />assume no responsibility for the return of manuscripts or<lb />art work.<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />Cures WEAVER<lb /><lb />Interviewer: What do you feel can be done<lb />about the increasingly high rate of illiteracy in<lb />North Carolina?<lb /><lb />.Mr. Russell: I'd raise the economic level of the<lb />people. We have too much poverty in the state of<lb />North Carolina and poverty always leads to ignor-<lb />ance. So we have to find a better means of liveli-<lb />hood for the submerged portion of the population<lb />before weTll be sending the children to school. In<lb />some cases, they donTt even have decent clothes to<lb />wear. They are ashamed to let their children go to<lb />school daily in the same pair of overalls.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: Would you care to discuss any of<lb />the ountapped� areas in the state, insofar as sub-<lb />ject matter for fiction is concerned?<lb /><lb />Mr. Russell: Well, weTve got a whole state of<lb />untapped areas as far as fictional story telling is<lb />concerned. Of course, we have Thomas Wolfe<lb />and what heTs done for Asheville and the mountain<lb />section, and we have Ovid Pierce and what heTs<lb />done for Eastern North Carolina, he and Mrs.<lb />Inglis Fletcher. And we've had people like Paul<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />Interview With<lb />PHILLIPS RUSSELL<lb /><lb />Greene in the middle of the Piedmont section.<lb />But there are still enough areas to deserve culti-<lb />vation. The old cotton era has passed out. That<lb />has been succeeded by tobacco. Foster Fitzsim-<lb />mons of this town wrote, several years ago, a novel<lb />about the tobacco area of North Carolina; but we<lb />still have a portion like the great swamp areas<lb />down in the southwest, the high mountain areas<lb />next to Tennessee, the border counties along the<lb />Virginia and the South Carolina lines, awaiting<lb />spokesmen.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: Which writers do you think are<lb />doing the best work on the South today?<lb /><lb />Mr. Russell: Well, I think Faulkner, of course,<lb />is in the lead in portraying actual conditions; but<lb />my objection to Faulkner would be that he is so<lb />obsessed with portraying the degenerate portion<lb />of the Southern people. The South has its degene-<lb />rates, just as other sections do, but the South is<lb />on the rise now. Industry is coming in every-<lb />where"weTve got a new look, a new day dawn-<lb />ing. We donTt consist any longer of people living<lb /><lb />3<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />in decayed houses on remote plantations. Our<lb />people today are living in small and large indus-<lb />trial towns, with a whole new set of problems in<lb />front of them. I think Faulkner has done very<lb />ably for the Plantation Era"the old plantation<lb />population. But we still need some spokesmen for<lb />the modern industrial area where the factory<lb />system is coming into a clash with the old farm-<lb />ing system, and where peopleTs lives are corres-<lb />pondingly affected.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: Do you think that Faulkner has<lb />helped the rest of the world to understand some<lb />of the basic Southern conditions?<lb /><lb />Mr. Russell: Yes, I do, in that sense that he<lb />has helped to acquaint the world, and the South<lb />in particular, which does not consist of many read-<lb />ers of books. We have one of the lowest reading<lb />rates in the entire union. Faulkner has acquain-<lb />ted us with our real condition, and acquainted us<lb />with the fact that rural poverty has been a curse<lb />that the South has struggled with for years and<lb />is still struggling with. And that poverty, if<lb />maintained long enough, can lead to a terrible kind<lb />of degeneracy. FaulknerTs opoor whites�, for in-<lb />stance, are worse than the old fashioned Russian<lb />Mugjiks that used to figure in the early novels by<lb />Tolstoy and Dostoevsky.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: Do you regard the University of<lb />North Carolina as still the ostronghold� of libera-<lb />lism among Southern schools?<lb /><lb />Mr. Russell: , Among Southern institutions, it is<lb />in the lead, I think, in the liberal sense, or was<lb />under Dr. Frank Graham. I think it has lost a<lb />great deal of its liberal aspect in recent years,<lb />and has become increasingly conservative, especi-<lb />ally in the student body. The student body, some<lb />years ago, I recall, was anti-war, and adopted a<lb />liberal and even a radical viewpoint in some re-<lb />spects. You donTt find those students here any-<lb />more. They are all turning to the conservative<lb />side in regard to any utterance hostile to the pre-<lb />vailing regime as inherently suspicious. That, I<lb />think, probably accounts for the fact that we are<lb />losing a great deal of that spark that at one time<lb />did put us in the lead among southern colleges<lb />and universities.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: Do you think that communists<lb />regard extreme liberal college groups as start-<lb />ing points for their activities?<lb /><lb />Mr. Russell: As starting points, no. I donTt<lb />think that the communists, judging by their atti-<lb /><lb />4<lb /><lb />tude and behavior around these parts, are very<lb />particularly interested in enlisting the support of<lb />college students. The communists can do business<lb />only where they find poverty and ignorance among<lb />the masses. They donTt cultivate young intellect-<lb />uals particularly, certainly not in the south. But<lb />they do appear wherever poverty and ignorance<lb />are strongest.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: Do you feel that former Governor<lb />Hodges was right in regarding Eastern North<lb />Carolina as the most backward section of the<lb />state?<lb /><lb />Mr. Russell: Well, I donTt think Eastern North<lb />Carolina"the extreme eastern part"is any more<lb />backward than the extreme western part. The<lb />Piedmont, the middle section of North Carolina,<lb />enjoys certain economic advantages which put it<lb />somewhat in the lead over the other two sections<lb />of the state. I donTt regard Eastern North Caro-<lb />lina as inherently a backward area. On the con-<lb />trary, I think itTs full of promise"thatTs a rich<lb />land, Eastern North Carolina, with all kinds of<lb />wonderful resources which are only waiting for<lb />recognition and development. ITm glad to see<lb />that East Carolina College is becoming a spokes-<lb />man and a lighthouse for this area"it needed it.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: Do you envision any prominent<lb />role for East Carolina College in our general<lb />educational system?<lb /><lb />Mr. Russell: Yes, indeed I do. I think that it ig<lb />up to East Carolina College to cultivate and main-<lb />tain the creative attitude that it has gained in<lb />recent years. We have been watching it here<lb />from Chapel Hill, and we have great respect for<lb />the possibilities down at East Carolina College.<lb />We are glad to see its progress among both the<lb />students and faculty. We want to see its influence<lb />grow and its position become increasingly strong-<lb />er.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: Do you feel that North Carolina<lb />has pursued a wise policy in regard to inte-<lb />gration?<lb /><lb />Mr. Russell: I think that it has been both wise<lb />and unwise, depending on the way you look at it.<lb />I think we have been too slow"unreasonably<lb />slow"in obeying what is now the supreme law of<lb />the land. I think that we could have moved at a<lb />much faster rate. But of course our progress<lb />looks good alongside of whatTs been happening<lb />in other states. But North Carolina people, by<lb />their whole history, have shown that they are<lb />highly conservative. They move slowly, but when<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>they take up a position they are more apt to ad-<lb />here to it than some other sections that are per-<lb />haps more hasty in their actions. My belief is<lb />that North Carolina in the future has to move<lb />faster in proper observance of what is now the<lb />law of the land as laid down by the United States<lb />Supreme Court.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: What immediate developments do<lb /><lb />you foresee in the integration movement in North<lb />Carolina?<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />Mr. Russell: An increasing taking over of the<lb />movement by the Negroes themselves, which in my<lb />opinion has been highly beneficial to the Negro<lb />race. Hitherto, the Negroes have tended to wait<lb />to see what the whites would do, and to rely on<lb />white encouragement and white support. They<lb />are now taking matters into their own hands,<lb />through their sit-in movements and similar ones.<lb />I think that is all to the good, in the sense that<lb />it will help them develop their own self-confidence<lb />and their own faculties.<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />THE REBEL YELL<lb /><lb />The primary activity of The Rebel during the<lb />Spring Quarter has been the writing contest.<lb />This yearTs competiton proved to be quite success-<lb />ful, and the editors look forward to next yearTs<lb />contest with great expectations.<lb /><lb />The winners of the first two positions in the<lb />contest judging were John N. Robbins, Jr. with a<lb />short story entitled oTeddy�, and Milton G. Crock-<lb />er, the author of oThe PassingT, a poem. Both<lb />of these works appear within the pages of the<lb />Spring Issue,<lb /><lb />The Staff would like to express their apprecia-<lb />tion to all of the individuals who participated in<lb />the contest, and urge them to continue their con-<lb />tributions. Also, we would like to thank Dr.<lb />Francis R. Adams, Jr. and Dr. George A. Cook of<lb />the English Department, and Dr. Robert W. Wil-<lb />liams of the Social Studies Department, who acted<lb />as judges for the competition.<lb /><lb />The Spring Issue carries two excellent features.<lb />The first is an interview with Phillips Russell of<lb />Chapel Hill, retired instructor of creative writing<lb />at the University of North Carolina, and noted<lb />biographer. The other feature article is a series<lb />of excerpts from a collection of letters written dur-<lb />ing the War Between The States by a Confederate<lb />soldier, annotated by Dr. Robert W. Williams of<lb />the Social Studies Department.<lb /><lb />S. Pat Reynolds, graduate assistant in the Eng-<lb />lish Department, from Wilmington, N. C. and Sue<lb />Ellen Hunsucker, a freshman from Winterville,<lb />N. C. are the featured poets in this issue. Other<lb />selections of verse are by B. Tolson Willis, Jr.,<lb /><lb />Denyse Draper, Kay McLawhon, and James Lee<lb />Quinn, III.<lb /><lb />Thomas Jackson, of Godwin, N. C., former edi-<lb />tor of the East Carolinian, closes out his East<lb />Carolina writing career by presenting a short<lb />story entitled oThe Big Man�, as the other work<lb />of fiction for this issue.<lb /><lb />The other work of non-fiction is an essay dis-<lb />cussing the character of the immigrants in Willa<lb />CatherTs prairie novels, by Mrs. Elizabeth Pasti.<lb /><lb />In the field of art, Al Dunkle and Larry Blizard<lb />return with their unique talents to enhance the<lb />pages of this issue. The section of welded sculp-<lb />ture was collected and edited by Bob Schmitz,<lb />Sam Platt provided the illustration for the prize-<lb />winning short story, while the cover, one of the<lb />finest in the history of The Rebel, was designed<lb />by John Goodhart<lb /><lb />During the past year, East CarolinaTs creative<lb />and intellectual life has received quite an uplift,<lb />Along with the accomplishments noted by stud-<lb />ents, the faculty has also played a prominent role<lb />in the gaining of stature for the college. Two<lb />faculty members, Mr. Ralph Knapp and Mr. Rob-<lb />ert T. Rickert have recently had books to be re<lb />leased. Mr. KnappTs work, Breaking Down the<lb />Barrier was done under joint authorship with<lb />Reiner Rodenhauser, while Mr. Rickert collabora-<lb />ted with R. A. Foakes in editing a new edition of<lb />HensloweTs Diary. Mr. D. D. Gross is the reviewer<lb />of Mr. KnappTs book, while Dr. Virginia Herring<lb />reviews the Foakes and Rickert edition of Hens-<lb />loweTs Diary. The other reviews appearing in the<lb />review section were done by staff members.<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />A WORD SAID......<lb /><lb />At one time or another during the course of its<lb />history, every college literary magazine is called<lb />upon to justify its existence. For some maga-<lb />zines, this enforced self-analysis has been a<lb />strengthening measure. For others, however, it<lb />has been a lethal blow.<lb /><lb />It has been four years since a group of indi-<lb />viduals came together and drafted plans for a<lb />literary magazine here at East Carolina College.<lb />They were dedicated people who believed their<lb />purpose essential for the fullest realization of the<lb />collegeTs potential. But only after considerable<lb />opposition were they able to launch THE REBEL.<lb /><lb />Since that time, THE REBEL has held fast to<lb />its founding purpose: The publication of credit-<lb />able student literary endeavors. While carrying<lb />out this basic function, THE REBEL has pro-<lb />gressed with each issue. Comments from literary<lb />figures in the state, such as Jonathan Daniels,<lb />Henry Belk, Sam Ragan, and Phillips Russell,<lb />have noted the general merits of the publication.<lb />Russell, in particular, has commented that THE<lb />REBEL holds more ovitality� than any such<lb />publication at the University of North Carolina.<lb /><lb />These notables are qualified critics. Those, on<lb />campus, who have been critical of the functions<lb />of the magazine are, of course, entitled to their<lb />opinions. However, we feel that the criticisms<lb />offered by those who are qualified are more<lb />meaningful and constructive in nature.<lb /><lb />Every college campus is an area of diversified<lb />interests. We do not expect THE REBEL to<lb />oreach� every member of the student body. We<lb />realize that a majority of students here are not<lb />naturally concerned with the work of a literary<lb />magazine. But there is a group of people on<lb />campus who are interested in professional writ-<lb />ing and literary criticism. These are the people<lb />generally by whom THE REBEL will be ap-<lb />preciated.<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />With such diversification of interests present,<lb />each special interest group will have its own out-<lb />let of expression. There are those here whose<lb />interests lie in the realm of drama. They have<lb />their theater. There are those who are interested<lb />in physical education, and more specifically, in<lb />athletics. They have their contests. The music-<lb />ians have their concerts. The artists have their<lb />exhibits. Does it not seem just that those who<lb />are interested in writing theories have their<lb />medium of expression?<lb /><lb />These special-interest groups are minority<lb />groups. They have, and always will exist, wheth-<lb />er at Harvard, at Duke, or East Carolina. This<lb />is true by virtue of the general interest-trend<lb />which exists on the average college campus. Al-<lb />though these groups are in the minority, they<lb />have the right to self-expression. This is a right<lb />which should not be infringed upon.<lb /><lb />These outlets of expression are learning pro-<lb />cesses. They are the production end, or practical<lb />applications of study. From the use of these<lb />media, the individual will accumulate, for poster-<lb />ity, a more basic knowledge of his chosen field.<lb /><lb />Throughout this year, THE REBEL staff has<lb />attempted to present a comprehensive view of<lb />the creative abilities of the students at East<lb />Carolina College. ~Too, we have endeavored to<lb />publish, in form, a magazine which has the ap-<lb />pearance of a mature and well-designed publica-<lb />tion. We believe that we have made distinctive<lb />progress towards this end. In future years, there<lb />will be more growth. But perhaps the greatest<lb />achievement of THE REBEL program will be<lb />the future writers it will produce. These indi-<lb />viduals will contribute to society. Regardless<lb />of the progress made by the magazine, this will<lb />be its laurel.<lb /><lb />"MARTIN.<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />NO TIME<lb /><lb />FOR GENERALS, csa<lb /><lb />Many men began their career under the stars<lb />and bars in humble rank, but emerged at warTs<lb />end with the right ever after to be respectfully<lb />referred to as major, colonel or General. And<lb />rarely, if ever, were there heroes of the lost cause<lb />begrudged a final promotion by their surviving<lb />relatives. Now in this centennial year a grateful<lb />progeny will once again swell the promotion lists<lb />and drummer boys long dead will receive the<lb />dashing yellow scarf of a colonel of cavalry.<lb /><lb />Here presented are excerpts from the letter of<lb />a most unusual Confederate soldier"one who re-<lb />mained a private during his entire term of service<lb />and withstood the temptations of rank during the<lb />times after the defeat of the Confederacy, when<lb />promotions were rife.<lb /><lb />The letters of Isaac Dunbar Affleck reveal the<lb />innermost thoughts of a young soldier whose main<lb />reaction to war and military routine was good-<lb />natured bewilderment. His words will stir the<lb />memory of veterans of any war, for here is the<lb />companionship, the boredom, the jokes, the pranks,<lb />and the ever present rumors that have always been<lb />a part of camp life. The story is familiar, but the<lb />viewpoint is refreshing and delightful, for young<lb />Affleck, who was oDunnie� to his parents and<lb />friends, writes of cavalry patrols, foraging ex-<lb />peditions, his officers, his body servants, and his<lb />comrades, with the wide-eyed innocence of a boy<lb />who was never reared to be a soldier. His letters<lb />give a humorous picture of the young and irre-<lb /><lb />8<lb /><lb />By Dr. RoBert L. WILLIAMS<lb /><lb />sponsible son of a Texas planter wrestling with<lb />the problems of war. For Dunnie these problems<lb />were largely a matter of supply. The young<lb />cavalryman was often without a horse and, very<lb />likely, lost or traded away as many pistols as any<lb />soldier on either side. The itch, a frustrated ro-<lb />mance, and a siege of boils in a spot most in-<lb />convenient for a cavalryman, also hindered Dun-<lb />nieTs contribution to the Confederate cause.<lb /><lb />The letters in the collection from which these<lb />excerpts are drawn begin with DunnieTs return to<lb />school at Bastrop Military Institute at Bastrop,<lb />Texas. The school letters show how the Civil]<lb />War came to Central Texas and to the Affleck<lb />family, and then mark the beginning of DunnieTs<lb />long, ineffectual, but nevertheless good-humored<lb />struggle with military routine.<lb /><lb />The first war letters indicate that Dunnie view-<lb />ed army service as a continuation of military<lb />school without the distraction of books and ex-<lb />aminations. He still expected to be supplied by<lb />his parents with replacements for spent horses<lb />and lost pistols, counted on the obox from home�<lb />to supplement his diet, and looked to a succession<lb />of body servants to perform the more arduous<lb />tasks assigned to him. His messages are filled<lb />with a long catalogue of requests for clothes,<lb />weapons, food and supplies of all sorts. Even the<lb />laconic comment that the obushwhackers got<lb />old Perry� was a subtle requisition for the re-<lb />placement of a body servant lost to the enemy.<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />Occasionally Dunnie was affected deeply by the<lb />drama of war and abandoned his usual tone of<lb />jovial bewilderment. His word picture of the<lb />execution of a mutinous captain reveals the sen-<lb />sitive nature of the young soldier.<lb /><lb />The harsh realities of war were brought home<lb />to Dunnie as his company closed with the enemy.<lb />He was made sick at Perryville by the sight of men<lb />oshot in two by cannonballs, some with their<lb />heads and legs shot off.� Shortly after his first<lb />combat experience he confessed that he was o~com-<lb />mencing to get real tired of war,� and that he<lb />owanted to shoot at something that canTt shoot<lb />back at me.�<lb /><lb />He never doubted that some hostility toward the<lb />yankees was required, but was unable to see any<lb />reason for unpleasantness among fellow Confed-<lb />erates. He mildly rebuked a Captain for detail-<lb />ing him to chop wood but, in a spirit of forgiveness<lb />and generosity, agreed to oallow Alex (his body<lb />servant) to go and chop in my place.� On another<lb />occasion he was oasked� to assist at a hanging, but<lb />ograciously declined.�<lb /><lb />Despite DunnieTs polite forbearance with his<lb />superiors he remained a private throughout the<lb />war. He associated freely with officers of the<lb />better sort, shared their mess, traded with them<lb />for pistols, and borrowed their horses. He did<lb />regret that the harshness of war had a coursening<lb />effect on some of his commissioned friends. oI<lb />have never seen anyone change as Gen. Wharton<lb />has,� Dunnie reported, oWhen I spoke to him he<lb />only recognized me with a nod.� But Dunnie<lb />was not one to brood over the lack of manners<lb />displayed by his superiors. He writes of this<lb />snub, oWhat it meant I donTt know nor care.� In<lb />DunnieTs army career there was no resentment,<lb />indeed no clear realization of his enlisted status.<lb />Private Dunbar Affleck simply had no time for<lb />generals, CSA.<lb /><lb />Dunbar Affleck to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Affleck<lb /><lb />Nibletts Bluff,!<lb />Sunday April 6th, T62<lb /><lb />Dear Mother &amp; Father: I mailed a letter to you<lb />yesterday evening after I got to this place. I told<lb />you I expected to get of [ommission] on Tuesday<lb />but I think we will get off this evening. I have<lb />entered into a big speculation since I came here.<lb />I bought a pony for forty dollars. I would not<lb />have done it but I could do no better, they charge<lb />thirty dollars on the stage for PerryT, so I thought<lb /><lb />1NiblettTs Bluff is located in extreme southwestern Louis-<lb />iana near the Texas-Louisiana state line.<lb />2DunnieTs body servant.<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />I would run the risk"Andrew Harris rode him<lb />through to New Iberis, I told him to sell him for<lb />any price over fifteen dollars, and if he can do<lb />that I will be making five dollars, but as this is<lb />my first speculation in horse flesh, I hope it will<lb />turn out well. We will use Andrew Harrises<lb />transportation ticket for Perry"the horse is<lb />worth the thirty-five dollars and I know I can<lb />get fifteen for him"Perry has behaved himself<lb />better than I expected"Coming up the river took<lb />care of a mans horse for fifty cents, and when we<lb />got here the fellow started off, but Perry ran after<lb />him and made him pay"-since he has been here, he<lb />has been waiting on the Hotel, I donTt know what<lb />he expects to get, I told him he might make as<lb />much pocket money as he liked so he looked after<lb />my things at the same time". To day is Sunday,<lb />but the people here carry on just as they did yes-<lb />terday"grog shops open and men drunk. ThereTs<lb />no minister and I donTt suppose there is a bible<lb />in the place...<lb /><lb />New Iberia, Wednesday, April 9th<lb /><lb />... We have just received news of a glorious<lb />victory, but you will get the papers before you get<lb />thisT. A Telegraphic dispatch is just received stat-<lb />ing that ten thousand of the enemy were killed,<lb />and a great many prisoners taken, and eighteen<lb />batteries and a great many arms, the Ten. river<lb />is too low for them to go down the river with<lb />their gun boats, and it is thought that we will cap-<lb />ture them. I regret that I was not there, but will<lb />push on as fast as possible". Harris has not yet<lb />arrived, and if he does not arrive this evening, we<lb />will not get off as we expected, I think I can sell<lb />him for twenty or thirty dollars to a man here"<lb />I donTt think we will be able to get six shooters<lb />unless we get them from Gen. Lovel in New Or-<lb />leans it is said that he has bought them all, I will<lb />try and get a letter of introduction from some<lb />one to him. The bells are ringing and flags flying<lb />in honor of the victory we have gained over the<lb />Yankies.<lb /><lb />I. D. Affleck to Mr. &amp; Mrs. Thomas Affleck<lb />Camp near Corinth April 22nd, T62<lb /><lb />... 1 think I will hire Perry to drive a wagon<lb />from our encampment to another. He will then<lb /><lb />*This oglorious victory� was the battle of Shiloh, fought<lb />on April 6 and 7, in which General Albert S. Johnston<lb />launched a suprise attack against GrantTs numerically<lb />superior forces. Although Confederate arms were partially<lb />successful on the first day, reinforcements received during<lb />the night made possible a Union counter-attack on the 7th<lb />in which the Confederates were forced to retire back to their<lb />base at Corinth. O. R., Ser. 1, X, Pt. L, pp. 384-92.<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />be no expense to me but will make money, I can<lb />get fifteen dollars a month and his rations that is<lb />as much as I get"...<lb /><lb />Dunbar Affleck to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Affleck<lb /><lb />Camp near Chattanooga<lb />June 11th, 1862<lb /><lb />Dear Mother &amp; Father:<lb /><lb />... The Yankeys are crossing the river above<lb />Chattanooga and a fight is expected to come off<lb />every day. We have between nine and eleven<lb />thousand men"with artillery enough to whip<lb />them"we heard here that we had fallen back for<lb />Corinth and that: the enemy had advanced and<lb />shelled our camp for a whole day before they<lb />found out that our troops had left. Before you<lb />get this I suppose you will have heard of the great<lb />victory we have gained in Virginia* and before<lb />long hear of our possession of Baltimore. There<lb /><lb />~Probably reference to JacksonTs successful Valley cam-<lb />paign of late May.<lb /><lb />is a report here that Andy Jonson was killed in<lb />Nashville a feiw days ago by a young man who<lb />shot him four times with a six shooter his name<lb />was given but I forget it must be so because the<lb />report was brought by a man who says he was an<lb />eye witness. The Yanks are in Rienza the place<lb />where I left my valiece with most of my clothes<lb />and I suppose have found them before now"the<lb />things were put in a private house about three<lb />miles from town up in the third story of the<lb />house but it makes very little difference whether<lb />they have them or not because it may be three or<lb />four months before I will get back there again . . .<lb /><lb />June 17th, 1862<lb /><lb />... The other day when they bombarded Chatta-<lb />nooga there was a great many shells thrown over<lb />that did not burst"one old fellow picked up one<lb />and took it home to examine it he called his wife<lb />and three children around him and commenced<lb />picking the powder out of it when it exploded<lb />killing him and his children and cutting his wifes<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />\<lb /><lb />leg off"My valiece gun case and all my clothing<lb />that I left at Rienza has gone up...<lb /><lb />Dunbar Affleck to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Affleck<lb /><lb />Camp near Chattanooga<lb />Sunday, June 29th, 1862<lb /><lb />Dear Mother &amp; Father:<lb /><lb />... Yesterday I went after forage about fifteen<lb />miles from here and coming back I stopped at a<lb />house to get dinner, they had finished eating but<lb />the old Lady went to work and fixed me up as nice<lb />a dinner as I have had since I left home, after<lb />I had eaten she brought out a basket of nice<lb />plumbs and another of ripe June apples and she<lb />would not charge me a cent, I wanted to pay her<lb />but she sayed she never charged a southern soldier<lb />anything. . .<lb /><lb />Monday morning"<lb /><lb />_.. We received glorious news yesterday even-<lb />ing from Richmond"We heard that the enemy<lb /><lb />~ {<lb /><lb />were retreating and destroying and burning all<lb />of their cannon and commissary stores, they are<lb />cut off from their gun boats and all communication<lb />with Washington, they have lost three Brig.-Gen-<lb />erals and over a hundred field officers prisoners,<lb />besides thirteen hundred privatesT"I saw an ex-<lb />tract from the New York Herald [ommission]<lb />were going to interfere and France at least would<lb />recognize our independence"I also saw that a<lb />British frigate had landed at Charleston is side<lb />of the blockading fleet"A great deal of other<lb />news came but I suppose that you will get it be-<lb />fore you get this"<lb /><lb />I must close as it is time to go on guard"<lb /><lb />Remember me to all"With love to Brother and<lb />you both I remain your<lb /><lb />Affectionate son,<lb /><lb />~Reference here is to the Seven DaysT Battles around<lb />Richmond in which Lee forced McClellan back to the James<lb />River. Dunnie was misinformed, however, in regard to<lb />the gunboats, as McClellan quite skillfully managed the re-<lb />treat and retired under the cover of gunboat fire to a new<lb />base at HarrisonTs Landing.<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />Dunbar Affleck to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Affleck<lb /><lb />Camp near Kingston<lb />Sunday, Nov. Ist, 1862<lb /><lb />Dear Mother and Father: .. . I think my last<lb />letter was written just before I started on the<lb />scout around McMinvill and Murfreesborough. I<lb />was in three fights in one of which we lost about<lb />thirty five men in killed and wounded in another<lb />fight one of my company was killed and one<lb />wounded. We were cut off for five days but at<lb />last got out and came to Sparta where we found<lb />the advance of Braggs army of which we were<lb />the advance guard until after the fight at Monson-<lb />ville when we were put in the rear of the whole<lb />army. When we got [torn] the Regiment was<lb />ordered out on dress [torn] Gen. Forrest made us<lb />a speech saying the [torn] [or]dered back to<lb />Middle Tenn. and that he was to take command<lb />of the State troops and that Col. Wharton was to<lb />take command of our Brigade which he commands<lb />now. When the retreat was ordered our Brigade<lb />was sent up to Mount Washington to hold the<lb />enemy in check who were advancing. We fought<lb />them for five days fighting nearly all the time<lb />from there to Bardstown where the Yanks cut us<lb />off with three thousand of their cavalry, they<lb />were in about two miles ahead of us drawn up in<lb />sections of eight in a lane which we had to pass<lb />through; we got up in about a hundred yards of<lb />them when Col. Wharton ordered a charge. Co. B<lb />was in the advance, we raised a yell and charged<lb />them at full speed one end gave way and then the<lb />whole column broke through the woods at full<lb />spread with us after them. I shot both barrels<lb />of my gun at a crowd of yankeys in a lane at about<lb />thirty yards distance. I stopped my horse and<lb />took deliberate aim at the bunch and I think I<lb />either killed or wounded some. My gun was<lb />loaded with a ball and three buckshot in each<lb />barrel. I will try and get Polks last order compli-<lb />menting the Rangers and Col. Wharton for their<lb />bravery. We had no more fighting until we got<lb />to Perryville where we found [torn] army and we<lb />understood that Bragg was going [torn] stand<lb />there the evening after we got there a division<lb />made from each company of eight men for a patrol<lb />to guard the left wing and I was one of them such<lb />relief of twenty men had to ride four hours. We<lb />went all through the enemies line and in a hundred<lb />yards of their pickets but did not fire on them.<lb />The next morning we had a fight with the yankey<lb />cavalry and whipped them; we then went to Iook<lb />for- our regiment, went up on a hill on the other<lb />side of town and remained there all day, until ev-<lb /><lb />12<lb /><lb />ening when the yankeys shelled us out we could<lb />see the fight going on all day, the next day we rode<lb />over the battle field under a flag of truice which<lb />the Yankeys sent in we took off about three thous-<lb />and arms. I saw more dead men in an hour than<lb />I ever saw in my life before about two thirds of<lb />them were yankeys they were lieing in every posi-<lb />tion some shot in too by cannon balls some with<lb />their head and legs shot off, they were killed in ev-<lb />ery position. It made me sick when I first went<lb />in but I got used to it very soon, the yankeys were<lb />so thick in some places that I could hardly keep<lb />from rideing over them I saw six yankeys in one<lb />field. We went in amongst the yankeys and talked<lb />to them awhile [torn] left, we took out several<lb />yankey prisoners we [torn] were in there with<lb />their guns. We went on to Harrollsburg and we<lb />stayed in line of battle for two days and nights<lb />without anything to eat and without sleep, we<lb />then went on to the wagons and stayed one night.<lb />I had had a fever for two days before that so I<lb />remained with the wagons but old Bragg made us<lb />stay in the rear of all the waggons about twenty of<lb />us under a Lieut., but we managed to get with our<lb />wagons again. We turned off the main road and<lb />went by Big Creek gap, going over the Mountains<lb />the oBush whackers� fired on us every day. Iam<lb />sorry to say I lost old Perry I think bush whackers<lb />got him I told him to try and get me something<lb />to eat and I think he must have turned off the<lb />road some where and got lost from us, he may<lb /><lb />be with some of our infantry but I have not heard<lb />from him yet...<lb /><lb />Dunbar Affleck to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Affleck<lb /><lb />Camp near Murfreesboro<lb />Jan. 1st, 1863<lb /><lb />Dear Mother &amp; Father:<lb /><lb />I take this opportunity of writing you to let you<lb />know that I came out safe, and unhurt from the<lb />battle which has been going on here for several<lb />days and in which we are again victorious, having<lb />driven the enemy back with heavy loss. So far we<lb />have taken about 7,500 prisoners, killed about four<lb />thousand, and wounded about twenty thousand,<lb />that is about the estimate I have made, from what<lb />I have seen and heard. Our killed and wounded is<lb />about half their number. We had a great many<lb />more wounded than killed. The Rangers suffered<lb />more in this fight than they ever have yet, having<lb />had some fifteen or twenty killed and a great num-<lb />ber wounded amongst whom were several of our<lb />best Lieutenants, Co. B. had six wounded"H.<lb />Short all the Washington Co. boys are safe, none<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />
          <lb />of them having been hurt. We went in the rear<lb />of the Yankey army day before yesterday to cap-<lb />ture a train of about five hundred wagons"Our<lb />infantry opened the fight on the left wing about<lb />day light, and we went around them while it was<lb />going on, I saw our infantry make a charge just<lb />as we passed them, they got in fifty yards of the<lb />yanks fired a shot, when they poured the heaviest<lb />voley into them that I ever saw or heard, but they<lb />did not flinch, they ran thin about four miles scat-<lb />tered them in ever direction, and we took nearly<lb />all of them prisoners"we went on and soon came<lb />in sight of about two thousand yankey cavalry<lb />and a battery of two guns, we charged them and<lb />ran them over a mile, taking their battery and kill-<lb />ing a great many, and [omission] a great many<lb />more, about a dozen of us charged through an<lb />open field where I got two shots with my gun, but<lb />only killed a horse, the Yankeys charged us in<lb />turn, and I only out run them by fifty yards, they<lb />made the balls whistle around every jump, but they<lb />did not touch me"We got behind a house and shot<lb />at them with long range guns, and then left"We<lb />rode about two miles and came in sight of their<lb />wagon train and more than our equal number of<lb />cavalry, the 2nd Georgia charged them, and were<lb />repulsed"the Rangers charged them and drove<lb />them back, and run them in every direction. I<lb />had eight shots, and killed two Yankeys, one of<lb />them, I am certain that I killed, shooting him in<lb />the back with sixteen buck-shot about ten steps<lb />from him, the other I shot in the body somewhere,<lb />with my pistol, he fell off his horse, but did not<lb />stop to see whether he was dead or not"I went<lb />on to the wagons and captured a negro, and a<lb />sutters wagon, and about fifty prisoners. I made<lb />the negro drive the wagon out in an old field,<lb />and then stopped to take out a piece of artilery<lb />which was with the wagons, it had four horses on<lb />it but they could not pull it, I made them take two<lb />mules out of one of the wagons and hitch to it, and<lb />just as I had every thing fixed and started"about<lb />three hundred Yanks came up in about a hundred<lb />yards and shot at me before I saw them, I turned<lb />my horses head towards a heavy woods, and was<lb />joined by two of our boys, who were shot off of<lb />their horses, the Yankeys shot at me thin every<lb />jump my horse made but none of them touched<lb />me or my horse although one went through my<lb />pants"I also captured a pistol and an overcoat,<lb />I could have got anything else I wanted but did<lb />not have time, the wagon I captured was loaded<lb />with everything nice belonging to a sutlers store,<lb />such as clothing sweat meats, tobacco, sugars,<lb />boots, hats &amp; ¢, it was a light wagon and had four<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />fine mules in it, it would have been worth a great<lb />deal if I could have got it to camp"My horse gave<lb />out, and I had to come to camp to get another<lb />horse and am going out again in the morning, I<lb />will close this now and finish it at some other<lb />time"...<lb /><lb />Thursday morning"... I heard good news last<lb />night, if it is true, from the North, one of boys<lb />saw in the Cincinnatti Commercial jt says that<lb />Valandagam® has been making peace speaches<lb />in the north and at one place he was received with<lb />loud cheers and the band played Dixie. It curses<lb />old Lincon for every thing, it says that the East-<lb />ern states claim to do everything, when they have<lb />done nothing, it says that the west is carrying on<lb />the war by herself and losing all of her best men,<lb />and for no purpose and that the war must seace.<lb />The same paper says that in the Kentucky legisla-<lb />ture two thirds of the members voted to take Ken-<lb />tucky out of the union if Lincolns Proclamation<lb />to free the negroes on the first of Jan. went into<lb />effect and I think they will do it"The Yanks ac-<lb />knowledge a loss of 30,000 in the fight here at<lb />Murfreesboro with two Generals killed four<lb />wounded and three prisoners they also lost thirty<lb />six pieces of artillery...<lb /><lb />Dunbar Affleck to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Affleck<lb /><lb />Camp near Fairfield<lb />March 5th, 1863<lb /><lb />Dear Mother &amp; Father: ... I have just sent Henry<lb />out in the country after something to eat, but donTt<lb />expect he will be able to get anything, the country<lb />is so nearly eaten out. Chickens sell for $1. eggs<lb />59 cts., butters 75 cts., turkeys $2.50 and every-<lb />thing else in proportion, we draw corn meal and<lb />bacon in camp and you see what we have to give<lb />in the country for extras, but we have to buy them<lb />or our camp fair will make us sick. When I get<lb />home again I think I will be able to put up with<lb />home fair especially in the eating line. I would<lb />rather sit down at the table at home to night<lb />to supper, than receive $100. in gold at this<lb />minute, but it canTt be so I will say no more about<lb />it. There is to be a large ball at War Trace to<lb />night, Gen. Wharton and Staff were invited, and<lb />are going, it is given to some Gen. up there and<lb /><lb />*Clement L. Vallandigham, a Democratic politician from<lb />Ohio, was the leader of the strong anti-war faction in the<lb />Midwest. Vallandigham, who contended that the war was<lb />needlessly prolonged by the Lincoln government for the<lb />liberation of the Negro and enslavement of the whites, be-<lb />came so outspoken that he was placed under military arrest<lb />in May 1863, and eventually banished from the Union. He<lb />later returned, however, and played a key role in the<lb />election of 1864.<lb /><lb />13<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>_s<lb /><lb />none but officers are invited I would like to, but<lb />canTt. I think I can stand it through this war,<lb />then my turn will come I think for good Liveing,<lb />I understand that some one is making six-shooters<lb />in Texas at sixty dollars a piece I wish you would<lb />get me a pair, and send on to me as I am without<lb />one now, and pistols have risen since we moved up<lb />here and I donTt think I shall buy another one<lb />soon, the pistol I had only cost me forty-five dol-<lb />lars, and I donTt think I could get another like it<lb />for less than a hundred...<lb /><lb />Dunbar Affleck to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Affleck<lb /><lb />Unionvill, Tenn.<lb />March 25th, 1863<lb /><lb />Dear Mother &amp; Father: .. . Our Generals are<lb />getting very strick with us here, we have a half<lb />doz. orders read out to us nearly every day, a man<lb />that is absent from three roll calls in succession is<lb />published as a desirter, and if caught more than<lb />a mile from camp without permission from proper<lb />authority is to be sent to the rear in irons or with<lb />his hands tied, and then put in an infantry regi-<lb />ment, those are two of the orders issued by Gen.<lb />Wheler. It will give you an idea of what kind<lb />of a man he is, another cruel order that a man<lb />seen going off the field with a wounded man is<lb />to be shot by the first officer that meats him, I<lb />think he had better not try to enforce that order<lb />because he might get himself into trouble, he<lb />will never get me to ride over a wounded friend. I<lb />would not hesitate, not even if he was by my<lb />side...<lb /><lb />Dunbar Affleck to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Affleck<lb /><lb />Houston, Texas<lb />Jan. 7th, 1864<lb /><lb />Dearest Mother, and Father: . . . Well to com-<lb />mence I will begin by recounting my troubles of<lb />which I have several, the greatest of which is a<lb />very sore, and ugly -boil in a very inconvenient<lb />and disagreeable place"Which prevents me from<lb />either sitting, lying or standing, and in either<lb />position it give me the greatest pain immagin-<lb />able...<lb /><lb />Mrs. Thomas Affleck to Dunbar Affleck<lb /><lb />Glenblythe, Texas<lb />July 13th, 1864<lb /><lb />My Dear Son: ... I fear Dunnie you have spoken<lb />too often of your having that Loathsome eruption<lb /><lb />14<lb /><lb />the Jteh"which naturally make persons, free from<lb />anything of the kind"avoid it, for fear of in-<lb />fection"There is great virtue in always ospeaking<lb />the truth�"but a true &amp; good maxim is that owe<lb />need not tell everything that is true.� Policy should<lb />govern very much when in such a mixed asemblage<lb />as an army--so you always act well your part--and<lb />there will be no room for others to fail in theirs<lb />to you"Except in point of education (and that<lb />I do most heartily deplore)"your standing de-<lb />rived from that of your parents, is as good as any<lb />in the southern country ; do you make sure, that no<lb />act of yours, cast a stain or shade on it." and<lb />you are entitled to any position in the army that<lb />a brave man can win"so cheer up and with youth<lb />and I hope health win oLaurells for your brow�"<lb />and long life and happiness", by learning and<lb />practicing early self denial...<lb /><lb />Dunbar Affleck to Mrs. Thomas Affleck<lb /><lb />In camp 20 miles from<lb />Monticello, Arkansas<lb />Sunday, Sept. 18th, 1864<lb /><lb />Dear Mamma: ... I donTt think I shall show my-<lb />self at Hd. Qrs. again for some time at least. I<lb />went up the other day, yesterday morning it was<lb />to mail my letter, but I got very few of the Staff<lb />to take any notice of me, and when I spoke to Gen.<lb />Wharton he only recognized me with a nod. What<lb />it meant I donTt know, nor care ; I would not speak<lb />first to any of them except two or three, to save<lb />them. If Gen. Magruder had been at Montecello<lb />I should have gone with him again but he had<lb />gone to Camden, and unless we go up there on our<lb />march I may never see him. I never have seen<lb />any one change as Gen. Wharton has, since I left<lb />the company he is not the same man at all. There<lb />he would speak and shake hands with a private,<lb />but here they are beneath his notice and heTs as<lb />crabid as an old bear...<lb /><lb />Dunbar Affleck to Mrs. Thomas A ffleck<lb /><lb />In camp on the march<lb />October 18th, 1864<lb /><lb />My Dear Mother: ... This morning I was de-<lb />tailed to chop wood and burn coal something I<lb />have never done in my life before, and I told the<lb />Captain that I could not do it, but was willing to<lb />allow Alex to go and chop in my place; he saw<lb />I was determined, and he told me to send Alex<lb />there...<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /></p>
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        <p>From dirt farms and dirt backlands they<lb />came; from homes and families and loved ones<lb />long forgotten by us now. Over dusty country<lb />roads and through countless sun-blistered after-<lb />noons they marched; and in a thousand hellish<lb />valleys they fought"and died"and a million<lb />stagnant roadside puddles from Big Bethel to<lb />Appomattox held their blood.<lb /><lb />Today, their sacrifice is remembered mainly<lb />through flowery speeches at well-manicured<lb />battlefield parks, beery renditions of oDixie�,<lb /><lb />and lead statues in front of sleepy courthouses.<lb /><lb />"tLarry Blizard<lb /><lb />we)<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>"-s<lb /><lb /><lb /><lb /><lb /><lb /><lb />I went to live with my oGr<lb />six. he lived in a little, olde Bre<lb /><lb />from<lb /><lb /><lb /><lb /><lb /><lb />You couldnTt hardly<lb />oold mimosa trees<lb />Be 3 d real good and<lb />ir bie Title humming birds<lb />nnyTs house had a tin<lb />where it stuck out over<lb />hd when it rained,<lb /><lb />x<lb /><lb /><lb /><lb />the aie of the f 3<lb />boyy-you.just sat t. pac ligte ned Ttill you went<lb />right fo. aie It'always made e feel real good<lb />all over.T I like Pain ai dud I liked to hear it beat<lb />down on that old roof. The other sound I liked<lb />was the squeaky Tole swing on the front porch,<lb />It had a soft cushion on the seat so that you didnTt<lb />hang through the slats and it smelled a lot like<lb />oSmokey� (thatTs GrannyTs cat). Granny finally<lb />had to cut a hole in the screen door for Smokey<lb /><lb />to goin and out. Some flies and other things went<lb />in there too.<lb /><lb />On the inside I guess the thing I liked best was<lb />GrannyTs big bed. Boy, you could bounce to the<lb /><lb />16<lb /><lb />JOHN N. ROBBINS, JR.<lb /><lb />be Mochting on that oldmattress; and fate, would<lb /><lb />ad<lb /><lb />*<lb /><lb />I<lb /><lb />fs<lb /><lb />hit the ceiling too when she caugh (you. She<lb />would always say she wasnTt worried about the<lb />bed (you couldnTt hurt the bed) but it was Teddy<lb />she worried about. Teddy was my cousin and<lb />Granny took him to raise when he was a baby<lb />~cause his mother and father didnTt love each<lb />other any more (like my mother and father too<lb />I guess except TeddyTs father ran away when he<lb />found out about Teddy). Teddy wasnTt like me<lb />and the rest. He was twice as big as me and I<lb />was kinda scared of him. I donTt know why cause<lb />I could always outrun him. When he tried to run<lb />he got real tired and he got all red in the face and<lb />thatTs when it would happen; I mean his eyes<lb />would get real big and then they would roll back<lb />and he would act sort of crazy.<lb /><lb />He would start chewing his tongue and making<lb />a terrible noise and I would get scared and run<lb />and get Granny. She would come running with a<lb />spoon and a wet towel. She put the spoon in his<lb />mouth so he couldnTt swallow his tongue and<lb />then she would rub his forehead with the towel<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />and say, oThere, there, GrannyTs here. Every<lb />thing is going to be all right.� ThatTs when Granny<lb />would always hate me and love him. She would<lb />always whip me so I didnTt do that much, I mean<lb />pick on Teddy and get him to chasing me like that.<lb />It always happened.<lb /><lb />When we ate, Granny made us sit on the bench.<lb />Well, this bench had four wobbly old legs and they<lb />were all right under the center. So a lot of the<lb />bench stuck out over the legs on each side. Some-<lb />times I would jump off real fast like and whoever<lb />was sitting on the other end would go banging to<lb />the floor; like on a see-saw when you get off and<lb />leave somebody hanging up in the air. I did lots<lb />of things like that and they always made Granny<lb />hate me. Mostly Tcause I usually did them to<lb />Teddy.<lb /><lb />Teddy wasnTt so bad though. He could do lots<lb />of things. Granny always let him cut the wood<lb />for the stove and feed the chickens. He was real<lb />good at jobs like that. He really loved those<lb />chickens. He had names for all of them and one<lb />day when Henry (that was his favorite chicken)<lb />had some little babies, he made a special little<lb />house out of a cardboard box. Smokey lived there<lb />a while too when she had babies. I could always<lb />tell when she was ready to have some cause she<lb />would start rolling around in the grass and, boy,<lb />you couldnTt get near her; she would scratch and<lb />claw and all.<lb /><lb />Anyway, I used to hold the piece of wood while<lb />Teddy chopped it with the axe until one day when<lb />he cut off my finger. That was the finger I used<lb />to lick and turn the pages in magazines and things.<lb />So I just started using the next one. It took me<lb />a little while to get used to it. Teddy didnTt mean<lb />to do it and he cried more than I did about it Ttill<lb />Granny came out. She was real worried, but this<lb />time she didnTt hate me. She fixed my hand and<lb />she cried a little. (She didnTt make a sound, but<lb />her eyes got all watery.)<lb /><lb />Well, the day finally came when we had to go<lb />back to school. I had already been before and I<lb />didnTt like it too much, but Granny said if I acted<lb />excited about it Teddy would want to go too. This<lb />was his third time around and he was still in<lb />the first grade. Teddy wasnTt very smart. I mean<lb />it was hard for him to hold a pencil good enough<lb />to write. He would drop it or bear down too hard<lb />and the lead would break. Things like that.<lb /><lb />Well, we went that first day. There were lots<lb />of mothers there and they all patted me on the<lb />head. One nosey old lady kept asking me about my<lb />folks and about Teddy and then she said o~IsnTt it<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />a crying shame?� to this other lady who looked<lb />at us and smiled. She gave us a piece of fudge<lb />and then she tied TeddyTs shoes for him. Teddy<lb />couldnTt do lots of things like that cause nobody<lb />ever gave him achance. I didnTt mind doing them,<lb />but I always felt kinda silly Tcause he was so much<lb />bigger than me.<lb /><lb />I guess lots of kids knew Teddy from last year.<lb />I was new and they didnTt like me. Anyway, the<lb />funniest thing happened that day. The teacher<lb />was being real nice and asking us all our names<lb />and addresses. She smiled and said she knew<lb />my father. Well, when she got around to Teddy,<lb />she said, ~o~And what is your name, young man?�<lb /><lb />Teddy just sat there and didnTt open his mouth.<lb />I guess she thought he didnTt hear her so she said,<lb />oYoung man, I wonTt know what to call you if you<lb />donTt tell me your name.� Teddy just sat there<lb /><lb />~and looked down at his desk. I figured ITd better<lb /><lb />tell her: cause I knew him well enough to know<lb />that when he made up his mind not to do a thing,<lb />nobody in the world can make him (except<lb />Granny).<lb /><lb />oHis name is Teddy Langley,� I told her. Teddy<lb />gave me a real hard look.<lb /><lb />oTheodore Langley?� and she looked real puzz-<lb />led. oI donTt have any name such as that on my<lb />list. Just a moment.� And she left the room. I<lb />could tell right then what was wrong, and I looked<lb />over at Teddy. He looked real sad about some-<lb />thing and he kept running his finger up and down<lb />that little pencil trough.<lb /><lb />Yep, pretty soon she came back and went over<lb />to old Teddy. Her voice sounded like she was real<lb />sorry. oITm afraid youTre in the wrong room,<lb />son. I just talked with Miss Richardson and she<lb />says that you are supposed to be in her room again<lb />this year.�<lb /><lb />Well, Teddy didnTt budge. He just sat there and<lb />looked down at his desk, so she took his arm like<lb />she was going to lift him up. He grabbed ahold<lb />of the sides of the desk and nothing could pull<lb />him up. ThatTs when she looked over at me and<lb />I could tell what she was thinking. I didnTt know<lb />what to say. I promised that if she would let him<lb />stay in her room, I would help him every night<lb />until he could read and write. She said that she<lb />would have to see the principal about it, and she<lb />would let us know tomorrow.<lb /><lb />Pretty soon the bell rang, and we were free<lb />to go home. We only went a half-day that first<lb />day, so it wasnTt so bad. We were just coming<lb />down the front steps when this crowd of boys came<lb />up tous. They were gigling and poking each other<lb /><lb />17<lb /></p>
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          <lb />in the ribs.<lb /><lb />One boy was in front of the rest. His name was<lb />Jeff Clark, and I recognized him cause his mother<lb />worked down the road from GrannyTs at the mill.<lb />She walked to work every morning, and lots of<lb />times he was with her. He would throw rocks<lb />up on our roof. They would roll back down and<lb />make a lot of noise, and Granny would come run-<lb />ning out on the porch and give that boy a piece<lb />of her mind.<lb /><lb />Anyway, this Jeff went up to Teddy and grabbed<lb />his shoelace. oHello, Theodore, have you learned<lb />to tie your shoes yet?� and he yanked the shoelace<lb />loose. All the boys laughed and he untied the<lb />othér shoe. This really made old Teddy angry and<lb />he swung, and he swung around like a thrashing<lb />machine. Well, then this Jeff acted like heTd been<lb />hit, and he fell down on the ground and began<lb />rolling around saying, oOh Theodore, you, you<lb />have killed me for sure this time. I am dying.<lb />Why did you have to kill me? I was only kidding.�<lb /><lb />I guess old Teddy really thought he hit Jeff<lb />*cause he went over and apologized. Then the<lb />boys really laughed when Jeff jumped up and yell-<lb />ed, oStupid, you never touched me.� They all<lb />started singing a song about Teddy and ran home,<lb />turning around to throw a couple of rocks. One<lb />caught me on the leg, but I was too busy trying<lb />to calm Teddy down to care much.<lb /><lb />We started home and, as soon as we were out<lb />of sight of the school, I tied his shoes for him<lb />cause he was stepping all over his shoelaces. I<lb />was afraid he would fall down and have a spell.<lb /><lb />By the time we got home he had cooled off, so<lb />I didnTt tell Granny about Jeff and the other boys.<lb />I knew it would worry her.<lb /><lb />School went along all right that year. The<lb />teacher let Teddy stay with me and by Christmas<lb />he could print his name and add a little bit. He<lb />could say the LordTs Prayer and the twenty-third<lb />psalm. He got some of the big words mixed up<lb />but the teacher said he was doing fine. He never<lb />caused any trouble at school except one day at<lb />the Valentine party he had a spell, a pretty bad<lb />one. I knew what to do for him, so it didnTt last<lb />long. Boy, did it ever scare that Jeff Clark when<lb />he saw Teddy have that spell. He never came<lb />near Teddy again.<lb /><lb />The funny thing is that Teddy kept getting big-<lb />ger and bigger. Granny couldnTt lift him any<lb />more. I never could. I just stayed about the same.<lb />He could cut two cords of wood without stopping<lb />and never get tired. One day, the milkmanTs truck<lb />got stuck in the yard. Well, old Teddy lifted up<lb /><lb />18<lb /><lb />the whole rear end of that truck.<lb />weighed about a ton.<lb /><lb />Soon it got summertime again and we started<lb />going to the river. There was a good place to<lb />play down below the mill. Sometimes we went<lb />swimming. Sometimes we fished (Teddy always<lb />caught the most). And sometimes we looked for<lb />oBuckeyes� and things.<lb /><lb />Teddy was real good at finding Buckeyes, Indian<lb />pipes, and May pops. Lots of times we brought<lb />wild lettuce home. Granny would fry the lettuce<lb />in bacon grease. That tasted real good and es-<lb />pecially when Granny would give me a little coffee<lb />to go with it.<lb /><lb />Finally school was out for the summer. I pas-<lb />sed and so did Teddy. He was real glad, (Now<lb />we could work in our garden. We had corn, po-<lb />tatoes, beans, tomatoes, and our specialty"cucum-<lb />bers. We had so many cucumbers we sold some<lb />and started a pretty good business. We saved<lb />$7.00 in one month. Granny would shell beans<lb />and put them in fruit jars. One jar sold for 50¢.)<lb /><lb />In July oBible SchoolT opened for the summer.<lb />Teddy liked oBible School.� It wasnTt like real<lb />school, cause they gave you drinks and cookies at<lb />noon every day and there was always a big picnic<lb />at the end of the two weeks. They give out real<lb />pretty pictures of Jesus and all those people in<lb />the Bible like Moses, and God, and Sampson (he<lb />looked like Teddy). We made lots of things; like,<lb />last year we took strips of old newspaper and<lb />soaked them with water and flour. Then we turn-<lb />ed a cardboard box upside-down and cut little<lb />windows and doors in it. When the paper strips<lb />were real gooey, we stuck them all over the box.<lb />When it all dried, we painted it white, and we had<lb />a little house like the one Jesus lived in (except<lb />it was littler).<lb /><lb />When it got too hot we went outside under the<lb />tree and the teacher gave us all a fan. My fan<lb />had a picture of me shooting Teddy with a sling-<lb />shot. It made me laugh. On the other side was<lb />a picture of the preacher. I never saw him up<lb />close Tcause he stayed mostly in his study room.<lb />He had one of those Tlectric fans that sits on the<lb />floor and looks around and you have to sit and<lb />wait for it to come back around your way.<lb /><lb />We sang lots of songs. Teddy liked to sing and<lb />he sang real loud. Sometimes he didnTt know<lb />the words so he made up words about little baby<lb />Jesus and Granny and me and lots of things. I<lb />liked the lady who played the piano, cause she was<lb />real pretty and she let me pick a song. I always<lb />chose, oOn Your Christian Shoulders.� It was<lb /><lb />I guess it<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>sort of a marching song and it made me think<lb />about going off to fight in the war. ThatTs what<lb />Teddy and I planned to do as soon as we were<lb />old enough.<lb /><lb />Well, it was there in oBible School� that it hap-<lb />pened; TeddyTs real bad spell, I mean. One day<lb />it was real hot, and while we were singing I hap-<lb />pened to look over at Teddy. I noticed his face<lb />was getting very red and he was sorta leaning<lb />against the chair in front. I took his arm and we<lb />went outside for some fresh air. The rest just<lb />kept on singing.<lb /><lb />When we got outside, Teddy lay down under<lb />the tree. I would have gone and gotten a spoon<lb />and a damp towel, but he said he didnTt want<lb />them. His eyes didnTt roll all back like they usual-<lb />ly did and he didnTt make that funny noise; he<lb />just sort of rested like heTd been on a long journey.<lb /><lb />I could tell that the spell was about over, cause<lb />his face was real cool. I guessed he got too ex-<lb />cited about the picnic or something.<lb /><lb />What I didnTt know was that old Teddy had<lb />had his last spell for good. He would never have<lb />another one, nor would he ever go off to fight with<lb />me in the war, or hunt Buckeyes down by the<lb />river. Teddy died right there under the tree. He<lb />just lay down and died, like that was the best<lb />thing to do, and everybody says it was a blessing.<lb />They said he was much happier where he was<lb />now.<lb /><lb />I guess they were right and Granny doesnTt<lb />worry so much any more except when I get hurt<lb />doing something stupid, like trying to fly, or some-<lb />thing like that. I guess I missed old Teddy, cause<lb />I.got bored sometimes and he could do lots of<lb />things better than me.<lb /><lb />Pieces of Memory<lb /><lb />Behind me the white-flecked mountains<lb /><lb />Rising<lb /><lb />to meet the smooth, smooth sky...<lb /><lb />In front a restless ocean of dusty gold"<lb /><lb />waves of ocher wheat<lb /><lb />caressing each other<lb />with endless love...<lb /><lb />There is a brook"<lb /><lb />a little whirlwind of water<lb />dancing by the roots of trees<lb />and underneath their limbs,<lb /><lb />then<lb />bumping<lb /><lb />to a stop into an ever-widening<lb />pool of tranquility ...<lb /><lb />Pieces of memory,<lb />Pieces of life.<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />"DENYSE DRAPER<lb /><lb />19<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />S. PAT REY!<lb /><lb />I<lb /><lb />Which wishful way do the w<lb />And journey sockets cover tk<lb /><lb />O vast and powerful streame!<lb />Billowing crests of rich gold<lb />The morning webs are covere<lb />The quilt covered with grass<lb />Lounging on the wet warm e<lb />Tender to touch and wistful |<lb /><lb />For the fullness of the earth<lb />Is the chancy taste of hot bre<lb />And the thrilling thirst of go<lb />The crumbs and the drops<lb />Tinkle and tremble over the<lb />Of the new-born puppy.<lb /><lb />Why singing soft the finger |<lb />And bearing naked the old re<lb /><lb />O strong, hidden gated garde<lb />Floating over red-bricked ws<lb />The tuft-boarded walks are st<lb />And toes-touching corridors «<lb />Lying, waiting to be crushed,<lb />Brittle and sensible to walk o:<lb /><lb />For the wonder of this garde<lb />Is decaying leaves and dying<lb />And the marveling voice of hi<lb />Drooping sadly and lovingly i<lb />Of the fleeing goose.<lb /></p>
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        <p>II<lb /><lb />Gently<lb />He walked<lb />And rocked<lb /><lb />/ k On his haunches;<lb />a Over and above<lb /><lb />The rollicking waves<lb /><lb />ry He came in marvel.<lb />Children<lb />With wonder<lb /><lb />a And smiles<lb /><lb />Of his coming,<lb /><lb />(NOLDS Again and again<lb /><lb />Laughing, dancing,<lb />They ran to his walking.<lb /><lb />I seek you and others<lb /><lb />He said<lb />~ And passed them by walking.<lb />winds blow Slowly<lb />the earth? He walked<lb />And rode<lb />ers On his heart-head<lb />d and turbid gray, Over and above<lb />~ed pockets, The ridging heights,<lb /><lb />3S<lb />earth,<lb />1 to wallow in.<lb /><lb />He came in secret.<lb /><lb />h , III<lb /><lb />ea<lb /><lb />rood spring water" I have loved you a life,<lb />She said<lb /><lb />e tongue And stayed before him<lb /><lb />Chanting the evening before night.<lb />I have not forgotten you.<lb /><lb />leaves blow In spring I remembered<lb />roots lie? And the soil rumbled under my feet<lb />And lifted me<lb /><lb />len So that I touched a white wisp of air<lb /><lb />valks, And moved with it.<lb /><lb />stony paths But I was not alive<lb /><lb />; of leaves, With the dirt and the wells<lb /><lb />cd, ? Because there was no seed in me.<lb /><lb />on.<lb /><lb />len ~ I have loved you a season<lb /><lb />¢ stems She said<lb /><lb />him who dies with it" And fell down before him<lb /><lb />y in the threat Speaking the glimmer of the moon.<lb />THE REBEL SPRING, 1961<lb /></p>
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        <p>I have not forsaken you.<lb /><lb />In summer I stood by<lb /><lb />And the sea lapped around my feet<lb />And offered me<lb /><lb />Such love I was a fool to forego<lb />And reject it.<lb /><lb />But I was dead then<lb /><lb />With the salt and water<lb />Unpreserved inside me.<lb /><lb />I have loved you a day<lb /><lb />She said<lb /><lb />And rose up beside him<lb />Sighing the tint of the night.<lb /><lb />I have not removed you.<lb /><lb />In autumn I remember<lb /><lb />And this tree offers his arms<lb />And wants me<lb /><lb />That I will have a bare branch<lb />To comfort me.<lb /><lb />Still I have no life<lb /><lb />To color his bark<lb /><lb />And we cannot meet.<lb /><lb />IV<lb /><lb />Morning, way over brick paths<lb /><lb />And the first flush of night here.<lb />Leaves and acorns ready to walk on,<lb />Bread and water waiting to taste of,<lb />And years, seasons, days to stop him.<lb /><lb />Remembered and remember.<lb />Seedless, beautiful,<lb /><lb />Unfertile, loving.<lb /><lb />But the stones are heavy in the path<lb />And the moist of evening glitters<lb />And the dog barks<lb /><lb />And the flutter of wings call overhead.<lb /><lb />Vv<lb /><lb />WhatTs to keep a man from walking,<lb />From dancing over oceans of grass<lb />Ready to drown in the frost?<lb /><lb />WhatTs to keep a man from running,<lb /><lb />From jumping over fordless streams<lb />Ready to burst from their banks?<lb /><lb />Roads and paths and running deer,<lb />Walls and gates and hopping toads,<lb />Wells and canes and digging ants,<lb />Seas and streams and swimming eels,<lb />Wood and sand and working men,<lb />Steel and nail and hard machines,<lb />Home and hearth and boiling pots,<lb /><lb />School and church and skipping child,<lb /><lb />Age and chairs and coming cold.<lb /><lb />VI<lb /><lb />O which ways do the winds blow?<lb />Whispering among the trees<lb />There where I left her,<lb /><lb />Or bugling over the earth<lb /><lb />Here where I wander?<lb /><lb />O the gate gleams in twilight<lb />As I look back now.<lb /><lb />O the gate hangs still open<lb /><lb />As I turn back now.<lb /><lb />O the gate calls me back there,<lb />O the arms sing me back there,<lb />But the moving stones<lb /><lb />Want me further down<lb /><lb />And the crackling leaves<lb /><lb />Need my crushing heel.<lb /><lb />O which way do the winds blow?<lb />Violently among the thorns<lb />There where I left her,<lb /><lb />Or softly over the field<lb /><lb />Here where I wander?<lb /><lb />O this way the winds blow<lb />Fuller and fuller,<lb /><lb />Lusty and robust,<lb /><lb />Manly and thrilling<lb /><lb />Here where I wander.<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /></p>
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        <p>IMMIGRANTS IN<lb /><lb />WILLA CATHERTS PRAIRIE NOVELS<lb /><lb />By ELIZABETH PASTI<lb /><lb />Willa Cather celebrates the legend of the immi-<lb />grant pioneer, a legend of man against nature<lb />and society in a strange land. Her immigrants<lb />are not wholeheartedly happy to be transplanted<lb />into this country, nor is their success here assured.<lb />Immigrants from Bohemia, Scandinavia and<lb />France are forced to struggle for their very sur-<lb />vival. In Miss CatherTs appraisal of their strug-<lb />gle the heroes are affirmatiye, intelligent women.<lb />After nature is conquered, the imaginative immi-<lb />grants must revolt against the village. The immi-<lb />grants, long sheltered by the traditions of an old<lb />culture, face a struggle with a nature that is<lb />older than any tradition. They fight to master<lb />the soil, a new language, and to establish a set<lb />of working ethical doctrines.<lb /><lb />O Pioneers!, The Song of the Lark, and My An-<lb />tonia have for their setting the rugged prairies of<lb />Nebraska and Colorado and the small towns of<lb />those prairies.<lb /><lb />Some of the immigrants succeed, some of them<lb />fail; some are weak and some are strong. This<lb />essay is concerned with the forces which shape<lb />their lives, the conflicts between the Old World<lb />and the New World, and between the first and<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />second generations of immigrants, and their re-<lb />lationships with the older stock Americans al-<lb />ready gathered in the dusty prairie towns dotted<lb />along the railroad tracks. The best of the immi-<lb />grants symbolize for Miss Cather the greatness<lb />of America.<lb /><lb />O Pioneers! has as characters only immigrants.<lb />Though the opening scene is in a town, its inhabi-<lb />tants have been driven to shelter by a raging bliz-<lb />zard so that we do not meet them as characters<lb />either then or later. Miss CatherTs cast of char-<lb />acters are the Scandinavian, Bohemian and<lb />French settlers along the Divide. The heroine of<lb />this book, Alexandra Bergson, is one of Miss<lb />CatherTs archetypes of successful pioneers. As<lb />the story begins, her Swedish father lies dying<lb />after eleven years of no notable success in turn-<lb />ing the prairie sod into productive farm land.<lb />John Bergson is one of the several immigrants<lb />in Miss CatherTs fiction who are unable to make<lb />an adjustment to the New World.<lb /><lb />The relationships between the Old World and<lb />the New World is a recurring theme in these<lb />novels. John Bergson, like Herr Wunsch in The<lb />Song of the Lark, and Mr. Shimerda in My An-<lb /><lb />23<lb /></p>
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          <lb />tonia, are elderly uprooted Europeans, trying un-<lb />successfully to live on their memories of their<lb />former life, their former place in another culture.<lb />He fails because he has tried to find in this country<lb />a substitute for the place he has lost by leaving his<lb />homeland. He hasnTt known how to meet this<lb />country on its own terms. There is no real hope<lb />here for elderly daydreamers.<lb /><lb />In the children of these men is the complex<lb />merging of cultures and backgrounds. On the one<lb />hand is their strong European heritage; on the<lb />other is the American West, challenging and ex-<lb />citing, full of possibilities for those who are adapt-<lb />able. From her father Alexandra absorbed the<lb />Scandinavian traditions, and a vision of what<lb />could be made of the land he owned. Alexandra,<lb />a pioneer in the epic sense of the word, has faith<lb />in the land, and the determination to make it<lb />come true.<lb /><lb />Her willingness for self-denial is contrasted<lb />with her brotherTs selfishness in the lean years fol-<lb />lowing her fatherTs death. Her promise to her<lb />father and her sense of tradition give her a special<lb />pleasure in holding the land on which her father<lb />was the first settler. Her steadfast vision of the<lb />possible future of the land led her to increase her<lb />acreage rather than join her brothers and neigh-<lb />bors in their retreat to more tillable land. She<lb />loves the wild land itself with poetic appreciation.<lb /><lb />Her two older brothers have less imagination<lb />than she, and seek an easier way to make their<lb />living. These two brothers, and those like them<lb />in other works of her fiction, represent for Miss<lb />Cather that greater part of the second generation<lb />immigrants who, without vision or imagination,<lb />without the integrity and moral fiber of her<lb />pioneer prototypes, become readily assimilated<lb />into the fast growing, materialistically oriented<lb />prairie towns, where they assume as rapidly as<lb />they are able, the plumage and manners of the<lb />townspeople. As little admired by Miss Cather<lb />as by Sinclair Lewis, these townspeople are nar-<lb />row-minded, conventional to the point of stuffi-<lb />ness, self-conscious, and mediocre; they are what<lb />our sociologists call other-directed.T�T These broth-<lb />ers reject their European heritage so completely<lb />that they are cruelly intolerant of the traditional<lb />customs practiced by some of the older immi-<lb />grants.<lb /><lb />It is to AlexandraTs house that these older peo-<lb />ple must come to practice their customs without<lb />censure. Alexandra is deeply rooted in her heri-<lb />tage, but not held back by it. She forges ahead,<lb /><lb />24<lb /><lb />and experiments with unconventional farming<lb />methods. Marriage, so important to most women,<lb />is of secondary importance to her, to be entered<lb />into only after her farm prospers, after she has<lb />gained a manTs kind of success in the world. To<lb />succeed in her dream is of primary importance to<lb />her. To gain what she considers the best life, she<lb />must lose, or at least delay, part of her life.<lb /><lb />AlexandraTs liberal judgment allows her to en-<lb />joy the ways of other ethnic groups which have<lb />settled along the Divide. She is extremely fond<lb />of her warm-natured, impulsive Bohemian neigh-<lb />bor, Marie Shabata, with whom she has little in<lb />common. She enjoys the spontaneous fun of the<lb />French settlement fétes, and sometimes attends<lb />the French Catholic church. She is pleased that<lb />one of her fatherTs children, her favorite younger<lb />brother Emil, can cope with the outside world,<lb />and can have a personality apart from the soil.<lb />Her contacts outside of her own austerely heroic<lb />struggle gives her a wider frame of reference and<lb />a deeper appreciation of lifeTs meaning. Such a<lb />widened horizon is important also to the develop-<lb />ment of Antonia and Thea, heroines of the other<lb />two novels under consideration.<lb /><lb />Emil represents another type of the second gen-<lb />eration immigrant in Miss CatherTs novels. She<lb />treats him sympathetically as she does Car] Lind-<lb />strum, AlexandraTs admirer, Lena Lingard and<lb />her friend Tony in My Antonia, all of whom leave<lb />the prairie to make their lives elsewhere, but she<lb />in no way suggests that their lives are as fully<lb />satisfying, or that they come close to the self-<lb />realization of her heroines, Alexandra Bergson,<lb />Antonia Shimerda, and Thea Kronberg. It is not<lb />their ilk that made the West great.<lb /><lb />My Antonia is set both on the farm and in town.<lb />As in O Pioneers! the elderly immigrant father<lb />dies near the beginning of the novelTs story. Mr.<lb />Shimerda tries unsuccessfully to transplant his<lb />native culture onto his quarter-section of Ne-<lb />braska. This sensitive, intelligent man, whom the<lb />priests back home often sought out for good con-<lb />versation, has no conception of either the life or<lb />the language of the prairie. Clinging to his old<lb />ways, to his homesick memories, and to his violin,<lb />while his helpless family nearly starve in their sod<lb />cave, he soon loses the will to struggle and com-<lb />mits suicide.<lb /><lb />He, like Mr. Bergson, fails because he is bound<lb />too tightly by his heritage; he is unable to meet the<lb />land on its own terms. His wife is a weak, con-<lb />stantly complaining woman who whines her way<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /></p>
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        <p>into moderate well being through the kindnesses<lb />of her neighbors.<lb /><lb />Again it is one of the children who succeeds"<lb />again it is one of the daughters rather than the<lb />son. Antonia was her fatherTs favorite among his<lb />children, and from him she absorbed much of his<lb />European heritage, which she continues to cherish<lb />for the rest of her life. The memory of her fath-<lb />er strongly influences her, and seems more real<lb />to her than many of the people she comes to know<lb />after his death. She symbolically returns to her<lb />heritage by marrying a Bohemian, and in their<lb />home of fourteen children speak Czech more<lb />fluently than English. On their farm she nur-<lb />tures a grape arbor such as her father had remem-<lb />bered in the old country.<lb /><lb />Though her father has hoped for her to have<lb />a good American education, this dream dies with<lb />him; her back is needed for full-time labor on the<lb />farm in order for the family to survive. Like<lb />Alexandra she endures extreme physical labor for<lb />years and is deprived of the kind of adolescence<lb />that the town children enjoy. Like AlexandraTs<lb />brothers, AntoniaTs brother, Ambrosch soon be-<lb />comes greedy for material success, and develops<lb />into a less admirable character than either his<lb />father or Antonia. He joins the ranks of the<lb />second generation immigrants who are insensitive<lb />to their heritage and to the possibilities of the<lb />present.<lb /><lb />A middle section of the book takes place in the<lb />town of Black Hawk, whence come Antonia and<lb />many of the Scandinavian girls to be hired help<lb />in the homes of the respectable older stock Ameri-<lb />cans. Miss Cather clearly thinks that it is the<lb />imaginative immigrants rather than the conven-<lb />tional Americans who are .responsible for this<lb />countryTs greatness. The American villagers are<lb />dull, self-conscious, imperceptive and unimagina-<lb />tive. Few are aware of the value of anything<lb />outside of their own narrow bourgeois culture.<lb />There is Wick Cutters among them, and Mrs.<lb />Cutters, and men like the one who seduces Antonia.<lb />Their boys discover that the hired girls are lively<lb />and fun and marvelously spontaneous dance part-<lb />ners, more fun indeed than their own schoolmates.<lb />Though one of Jim BurdenTs friends becomes more<lb />than slightly infatuated with one of these open-<lb />hearted girls, he lacks the nerve to break the<lb />social norms and marry her. Neither is Jim him-<lb />self forceful enough to alter the pattern. He dates<lb />Lena Lingard, but only far away from the prying<lb />eyes of his home town, and is easily persuaded to<lb />break off their affair. He is struck by the relation-<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />ship of these girls like Lena, Antonia and their<lb />laughing generous friends with VirgilTs poetry.<lb />He suddenly understands that girls like these are<lb />the inspiration behind much of the poetry of the<lb />world. His idealization of them, and particularly<lb />of Antonia, makes him disgusted with respectable<lb />Black Hawk society.<lb /><lb />After AntoniaTs railroad-conductor boy friend<lb />seduces and deserts her, she returns to the country<lb />and the farm. She needs to be close to the land;<lb />it is her salvation. Deep-seated maternal instincts<lb />make her accept and love her illegitimate infant<lb />without a qualm, make her accept the burden of<lb />mothering her fourteen children as her real place<lb />in life. Her proper function is as mother and<lb />housewife, and she appears to Jim Burden years<lb />later as a beautifully fulfilled woman. Though<lb />battered by time, she is a rich well-spring of life<lb />like the founders of early civilizations. Her life<lb />contains a fruitful blend of nostalgia and am-<lb />bition, memories of the Old World and dreams for<lb />the New World. Acting with instinctive feeling<lb />rather than by intellectual processes she had de-<lb />veloped and achieved her potentialities.<lb /><lb />The land is tamed; the heroine of The Song of<lb />the Lark struggles not against nature, but against<lb />the Phillistine spirit suffocating her in the town of<lb />Moonstone. The townspeople are mostly older<lb />generation Americans; there are no immigrant<lb />farmers in this story. Moonstone, like Black<lb />Hawk, is filled with the kind of people that Miss<lb />Cather dislikes, those bounded by their provincial<lb />conventions. Thea, daughter of the Swedish<lb />Methodist minister, feels from childhood that<lb />there is something very different about herself.<lb />Unintellectual like Alexandra and Antonia, she is<lb />able to feel but not understand this difference.<lb />Like them she uses imagination and determination<lb />to achieve her success. Her fulfillment is as a<lb />Wagnerian opera singer.<lb /><lb />Almost all of her relationships with people in<lb />Moonstone emphasize her difference from them,<lb />even from the members of her own family, all of<lb />whom become assimilated into Moonstone ways.<lb />Her mother, her friend Dr. Archie, and her ad-<lb />mirer Ray Kennedy are the few townspeople who<lb />like this sensitive girl. Each of them realizes that<lb />she is unusual, but they are too imperceptive to<lb />know why. Ray Kennedy, an earnest young rail-<lb />road man, represents the best marriage prospect<lb />for Thea should she decide to remain in the Moon-<lb />stone world.<lb /><lb />Like Alexandra and Antonia, Thea gains know-<lb />ledge and understanding of life by her contact<lb /><lb />25<lb /></p>
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          <lb />with first generation immigrants. Her first music<lb />teacher Herr Wunsch recognizes her extraordi-<lb />nary talent, and teaches her that every artist must<lb />make himself be born. But more than that he<lb />cannot do; homesick and unable to cope with life<lb />in this country he is slowly drinking himself to<lb />death. The German immigrant tailor and his<lb />wife, kind to their fellow countryman Wunsch,<lb />are kind also to Thea. They have created in the<lb />prairie a small bit of their homeland complete with<lb />a linden tree in the garden. Surrounded by their<lb />warm kindness, their good German food and con-<lb />versation, Thea feels comfortable. Their sons<lb />are typical of Miss CatherTs second generation<lb />boys: they reject their heritage and are ashamed<lb />of the alien ways of their parents, and prefer to<lb />buy ready made suits from Denver rather than<lb />wear their fatherTs ohome made� suits.<lb /><lb />In the Mexican part of town, which is avoided<lb />by other respectable townsfolk, Thea finds warm-<lb />hearted spontaneity and acceptance. There is<lb />great contrast between the whole-hearted gaiety<lb />at the impromptu concert of the music-loving<lb />Mexican immigrants and the stuffiness at the Sun-<lb />day School concert on the other side of the tracks<lb />at which the music is less important than the<lb />amount of applause received by rival proteges.<lb /><lb />Like Alexandra, Thea doesnTt lose sight of her<lb />goal. She rejects living in Moonstone as a suc-<lb />cessful piano teacher in order to study in Chicago.<lb />She rejects marriage until her artistic success<lb />is won. In her voice study she reacts instinctively<lb />rather than intellectually. She is stubborn and<lb />determined and self-assured, though she is crude<lb />and awkward by Chicago standards.<lb /><lb />Ali three of these heroines love the natural phe-<lb />nomena of the plains. Thea makes special trips<lb />out of Moonstone to see the sand hills, and it is in<lb />the glorious golden canyons of the Southwest,<lb /><lb />amid the ruins of the cliff dwellers that she finds<lb />a renewal of purpose. The combination of the<lb />natural landscape and the sense of tradition she<lb />feels among the relics of the ancient people have<lb />a potent effect on her will toward success.<lb /><lb />Miss Cather shows that the best in the Ameri-<lb />can pioneer is a synthesis of European traditions<lb />and the challenge of a new environment. The<lb />great pioneers, whether in nature or in art, mingle<lb />the memories of the old with the dreams of the<lb />young. The three heroines, with roots deep in the<lb />past, meet the opportunities of this young country<lb />with curiosity, instinctive passion, courage, vital-<lb />ity and imagination. With these tools, they make<lb />the most of the experiences that life offers them<lb />and live up to their potentialities. They feel life<lb />deeply, without philosophizing about it, are pas-<lb />sionate rather than intelligent, and are superbly<lb />self-confident. Miss Cather echoes EmersonTs em-<lb />phasis upon the importance of the individual, an<lb />individual who meets the unique challenge of this<lb />country with a great and fitting response. Miss<lb />Cather writes in O Pioneers!, oThe history of ev-<lb />ery country begins in the heart of a man or a<lb />woman.� It is the hearts of women such as Alexan-<lb />dra, Antonia and Thea that give their time and<lb />place in history its stature.<lb /><lb />They rise in stature high above the elderly immi-<lb />grant failures whose sensitivity and nostalgia<lb />keep them from meeting the challenge with an ap-<lb />propriate response, high above the second genera-<lb />tion immigrants who succumb to conformity and<lb />greed, and high above the old stock Americans<lb />of the villages who are bound by narrow intoler-<lb />ance and unimaginative materialistic respectabil-<lb />ity. Miss Cather admired most of all a philosophy<lb />of living which is instinctive and spontaneous, and<lb />full of love, enterprise, and courage, as practiced<lb />by these epic daughters of the immigrants.<lb /><lb />26<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /></p>
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        <p>THE PASSING<lb /><lb />(Contest Winner)<lb /><lb />And did you think again<lb /><lb />of the meaning of Rimbard,<lb /><lb />of the early morning rain,<lb /><lb />and the passion of Li Po,<lb /><lb />as you went down the singing<lb /><lb />path, where early Springing<lb /><lb />little flowers grow?<lb /><lb />(saying, oSeek the meaning of RimbaudTT)<lb /><lb />Did you think of red wine<lb /><lb />from the vaults of Rome,<lb /><lb />or the Springing flowers fine<lb /><lb />in rolling hills of home,<lb /><lb />and how the Springing winds did bless,<lb />and how the lilting winds carressed<lb /><lb />you, to the very bone?<lb /><lb />(saying, oSeek the meaning of RimbaudTT)<lb /><lb />And did the brown eyes see,<lb /><lb />and show the way to guide you home,<lb />show the way to guide you free,<lb /><lb />see into the hills of home,<lb /><lb />the way to bear you there,<lb /><lb />where Springing winds are fair,<lb /><lb />and leave us here alone?<lb /><lb />(to seek the meaning of Rimbaud)<lb /><lb />And would you truly go<lb /><lb />and leave your books behind,<lb /><lb />and the passion of Li Po,<lb /><lb />and the Springing flowers fine,<lb /><lb />and leave us here alone,<lb /><lb />leave us here to moan?<lb /><lb />(saying, oSeek the meaning of RimbaudTT)<lb /><lb />"NMILTON G. CROCKER<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />INTERIM<lb /><lb />Evening waits<lb />restlessly<lb /><lb />In the anteroom<lb />Sunset wanders<lb />serenely<lb /><lb />in the courtyard<lb />night creepers<lb />stretch"sigh<lb />Longingly<lb />Farewell<lb />Stoop-shouldered day<lb /><lb />"B. TOLSON WILLIS, JR.<lb /></p>
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          <lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb /><lb /><lb /><lb /><lb />Welding provides todayTs sculptor with a direct freedom and<lb />flexibility never before available. It offers a wide range of<lb />technique, lending itself to a classical treatment as easily as to<lb />an approach in which the material insistently declares its own<lb />existence and has occasioned the assembly of discarded objects<lb /><lb />and materials as a new sculptural form.<lb /><lb />The following illustrations present some of the possibilities<lb />which welding, with its myriad textural and color possibilities,<lb /><lb />makes available to the artist.<lb /><lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />NIGHT CALLERS<lb /><lb />The night callers come.<lb /><lb />Across the plain a lamp burns,<lb /><lb />Caught in a small, dusty window pane<lb />Where candleflies swoop down to the light<lb />And catch in the heat to die the<lb />Instantaneous death they live for.<lb /><lb />The wind, unwelcomed, unchained<lb />Against the clouds,<lb /><lb />Moans its curse of no place to rest,<lb /><lb />Pants its odorless breath against the earth,<lb /><lb />Then catches in spring branches to die<lb />Its way to peace.<lb /><lb />The silence presses down and<lb /><lb />Takes the crackling fire in its grasp<lb /><lb />To muffle sound and warmth and pleasure<lb />For those who huddle there<lb /><lb />With babies cradled in their arms"<lb />Tiny babies who sleep and dream<lb /><lb />And never know night callers come<lb /><lb />And then, in the day, are gone.<lb /><lb />32<lb /><lb />SUE ELLEN HUNSUCKER<lb /><lb />PLACES<lb /><lb />In lonely places<lb /><lb />People meet and touch<lb /><lb />And little bits of life crumble about them,<lb />Never lived, never shared.<lb /><lb />In quiet places<lb /><lb />Moments are spent<lb /><lb />And prayers are made in watchful silence<lb />Never spoken, never kept.<lb /><lb />In wildly beating hearts<lb /><lb />Dreams are born<lb /><lb />And nourished and grow old<lb /><lb />Never weaned, never known.<lb /><lb />In cities life fills up<lb /><lb />And screams and dies<lb /><lb />While signs flash red and green<lb /><lb />And trains roar by<lb /><lb />And people sleep.<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /></p>
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        <p>THE BIG MAN<lb /><lb />by THOMAS JACKSON<lb /><lb />One of the biggest houses in Savage is about<lb />three miles from the school house, at the Corner.<lb />The reason why I mentioned this house is because<lb />one of the biggest men in Savage lives there. At<lb />least ITve always been told that he was one of the<lb />biggest. Now I donTt mean big like old fat Lester<lb />Hall is big, but big in what people think of him.<lb />You know, a kind of a oramrod�, or obig wheelT.<lb />owell-thought-of� kind of guy. ITm talking about<lb />L. C. Marshal.<lb /><lb />As far as obig,� in the way people usually think<lb />of it goes, L. C. isnTt really very big. As a matter<lb />of fact, heTs not over five foot six or seven, al-<lb />though he is a little chubby around the middle.<lb />He has a round baby - like face thatTs us-<lb />ually red and sweaty and his hair is light brown<lb />and kind of thin. HeTs almost bald in front.<lb />ItTs kind of hard to tell you what he looks like<lb />in the face. His nose is short and a little flat and<lb />his ears are little. His face is not real good look-<lb />ing and itTs not ugly. ItTs just the kind of face<lb />you donTt remember. L. C. is usually smiling like<lb />a politician the day before elections and when he<lb />frowns he donTt look mad, he just looks like he<lb />smells something that he donTt like.<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />He is very particular about how he dresses. In-<lb />stead of wearing cotton pants like everybody else<lb />he always wears gabardine or wool, except in<lb />summer, then he wears searsucker and pale sport<lb />shirts. In the winter he wears a white shirt and<lb />one of those wide, hand, painted neckties. He has<lb />one with a picture of a pointed bird dog and two<lb />flying birds on it that he wears almost all the<lb />time. Even when he is working L. C. dresses like<lb />this. You can see him in the yard piddling<lb />around in his azaleas, or cutting the grass, or down<lb />on his hands and knees in his pansy bed with those<lb />blue-grey gabardine pants on, the sleeves of his<lb />white shirt rolled up to his elbows, and his neck<lb />tie swinging to and fro.<lb /><lb />Now the reason that L. C. is so well thought of,<lb />I reckon, is because he is in so many things at<lb />one time. He belongs to lots of clubs and groups<lb />thatTs always working on some project or other.<lb />HeTs the Worthy Grand Leader, or the Grand<lb />Worthy Leader, or the Worthy Worthy Leader,<lb />or whatever they call it that is the head of the<lb />Grange Club. HeTs a hard worker in the PTA<lb />and is on a whole lot of committees, he is a Mas-<lb />on, a Deacon in the Church, a Sunday school<lb /><lb />33<lb /></p>
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          <lb />teacher, a school teacher, Vice President of the<lb />United Mens Christian Brotherhood Association,<lb />and is in a lot more things that I canTt even name.<lb /><lb />L. C.Ts wife is the same way too. She teaches<lb />school, teaches a Sunday school class, is in the<lb />PTA, the Grange, the Garden Club, the Home<lb />Demonstration Club, and is one of the leaders of<lb />the Womans Committee to Clean up Savage Com-<lb />munity.<lb /><lb />Between the two of Tem they go to everything<lb />that happens in Savage. One or the other of<lb />Tem plays the piano at church every Sunday and<lb />sometimes they go to two different churches in<lb />one Sunday. They go to all the church suppers<lb />and fish frys and fund raising things. ITve never<lb />been to the Lake when there was a fish fry or<lb />chicken fry or anything like that when they wonTt<lb />there, unless, of course, it was a group from a<lb />way off in Martinburg or something. They go to<lb />all the PTA meetings, the class plays, the speeches,<lb />and programs at the school house.<lb /><lb />L. C. sells tickets, or cards, or sign plates, or<lb />whatever the church happens to be selling. He<lb /><lb />34<lb /><lb />makes speeches, writes letters, and talks for all<lb />his clubs. He even goes out in his Buick and<lb />rides around all over the community sometimes<lb />when one of his organizations is pushing some<lb />project or another especially hard, but he makes<lb />them pay for his gas.<lb /><lb />Now most people think that L. C. frowns on<lb />drinking, but I know for a fact that he takes a<lb />little snort now and then hisself. You see I was<lb />over at Samp PurvisTs house one night buying a<lb />pint and I had sit down talking to Samp for a<lb />while when this new Buick pulls up in the yard<lb />and stops. Well, Samp is kind of cautious of cars<lb />that he donTt know real good so he peeped out the<lb />window before he went to the door. Samp didnTt<lb />know who it was so he called me over to the<lb />window and ask me if I knew the car. About the<lb />time I got to the window the man in the car tooted<lb />his horn right light a time or two and then got<lb />out and started to the door. Well I told Samp he<lb />better take it easy because it was L. C. Marshal<lb />(everybody knew how L. C. was). When I said<lb />this Samp laughed great big and said that there<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /></p>
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        <p>was more to L. C. than most people knew. This<lb />kind of surprised me and Samp laughed some<lb />more. He said, oYeah, L. C. is one of my old<lb />friends, but he donTt tell many people that he even<lb />knows me.� Samp went to open the door and I<lb />sit back down in the dark living room (the<lb />front part of SampTs house is just about always<lb />dark at night on the inside) while they went<lb />down the hall to the kitchen at the back of the<lb />house. Samp keeps his licker in a big water<lb />pitcher in the refrigerator. I was sitting there<lb />smoking and thinking about L. C. when I heard<lb />Samp coming back. Instead of going down the<lb />hall and out the front like he came in, L. C. was<lb />walking along behind Samp to the living room.<lb />I could see both of Tem outlined in the next room<lb />when the door from the kitchen let some light in.<lb />They walked right in the living room and Samp<lb />said something about sitting down for a while just<lb />about the same time I moved to light my dead<lb />cigar. Well let me tell you, when I struck that<lb />match, L. C. Marshal almost dropped his teeth.<lb />He was so surprised that he couldnTt even talk for<lb />a minute. Then he sputtered and stammered a<lb />little and said, ~Well now, hello there Jarvis, how<lb />in the world are you?� oITm all right,� I said,<lb />oHow about you?� oOh,� he says, oITm o.k., but<lb />er, ah, uncle Jonah, my negro tenantTs not so good.<lb />The doctor came out this afternoon and attended<lb />to him for some time, but I thought a little shot<lb />of whiskey would get him on the road to recovery<lb />faster. I think it is only a bad cold, and you<lb />know a little drink of whiskey will break a cold<lb />right up. And Patty needed some wine for a<lb />fruit cake too.� Well, I knew right off that Patty<lb />wonTt cooking no fruit cakes that far from Christ-<lb />mas, but I didnTt say nothing about it. Then<lb />Samp went back toward the kitchen for a minute<lb />and L. C. said, oWhat in the world are you doing<lb />here, this is no place for a young man like you.�<lb /><lb />oOh, I got a little cold,� I said, oand you know how<lb />a little shot will break a cold right up.� Well, I<lb />couldnTt see his face, but from the way he was<lb />breathing ITd be willing to bet that he was blush-<lb />ing and blinking his eyes like he does sometimes<lb />when he gets in a tight spot. About that time<lb />Samp come back in and L. C. left pretty quick.<lb /><lb />Just out of curiosity I asked Samp if L. C. had<lb />bought any wine. oHell no,� he said, oHe got<lb />the same thing he always gets, a half a gallon of<lb />white. He gets that much ever now and then<lb />when theyTre having one of them parties.� Well,<lb /><lb />I didnTt know what parties he was talking about,<lb /><lb />but Samp told me all about it. It seems that L. C.,<lb />and Mr. Raner, and Julius Mason and a bunch<lb />of them big wigs get together down at ReynoldTs<lb />clubhouse on ReynoldTs pond ever now and then<lb />and have a real bang up party. They even have<lb />Purline McNell down there. Purline is a little<lb />high yellow whore that Ts supposed to really be<lb />hell. SheTs clean and good looking all right, but<lb />sheTs not worth ten bucks.<lb /><lb />Anyway, I saw L. C. later on one day and he<lb />started giving me a little sermon on drinking and<lb />everything. He said something about iniquity<lb />and integrity, and our clean cut youth, and a bunch<lb />of stuff like that, that didnTt seem to mean too<lb />much to me except that he was all bothered and<lb />that he knew a lot of big words. Finally he shid<lb />he was going to talk to my old man about how I<lb />was hanging out in the wrong places and all that.<lb />Well, I just looked at him for a minute and laughed<lb />and asked him if he knew Purline McNell. When<lb />I did that he started blinking his eyes and blushing<lb />something awful and ~kind of sputtered. I could<lb />tell he was mad as hell, but he didnTt say nothing<lb />else to me then and he hasnTt since. As a matter<lb />of fact he wonTt even speak to me at all any more,<lb />except in a crowd when he has to.<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />35<lb /></p>
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          <lb />i<lb />|<lb />i<lb />|<lb />i|<lb />it<lb />|<lb />|<lb /><lb />Call Me<lb /><lb />A river hurries down to the sea, a<lb />Ship sails out on the tide.<lb /><lb />A train stabs the night with a fury<lb />Of sound. Behold, the horizon is wide!<lb /><lb />A road is a route to be traveled.<lb />A town is a place to arrive.<lb /><lb />A bit of adventure, blended with fear,<lb />Is the bread upon which I survive.<lb /><lb />My home is a moving train, a ship, or<lb />A plane, or a bus.<lb /><lb />I clothe myself in the miles ITve gone,<lb />My bed is a cloud of dust.<lb /><lb />My name is spoken in secret; itTs written<lb />On every manTs heart.<lb /><lb />I am The Urge to be Free, The Desire to<lb />Roem ::. diss Call me, and let us depart.<lb /><lb />"JAMES LEE QUINN, III<lb /><lb />36<lb /><lb />1<lb />t<lb />{<lb /><lb />Che Harbor<lb /><lb />Come into me gently, quietly, softly blowing<lb />warmth<lb /><lb />Upon my body, here, now there, like hot breath<lb />upon<lb /><lb />A lighted cigarette seeing<lb /><lb />Silently moving red sparks hiding, winking,<lb />twinkling<lb /><lb />Beneath gray-white ashes, waiting, willingly<lb />losing,<lb /><lb />Burning...<lb /><lb />Come searching, finding, not finding, tasting<lb />throbbing,<lb /><lb />Sheeting, gnawing piercing pain,<lb /><lb />Smelling pungent rising heat on flesh, burning,<lb />driving,<lb /><lb />Forcing away false seeds of doubt, of fears, of<lb />sorrows.<lb /><lb />Of all tomorrows...<lb /><lb />Searing towards the stars of death black night<lb /><lb />Bursting forth, exploding, disintegrating into<lb /><lb />Unexplored depths of drowning fever, running,<lb />flowing,<lb /><lb />Hammering like rain against pulses.<lb /><lb />Surging, swaying, delaying, clinging vines<lb />entwining<lb /><lb />Engulfing, melting...<lb /><lb />Quick laughter, spinning with the spinning world,<lb /><lb />Drawn spontaneously like metal to magnets...<lb /><lb />Resting, clasped together safely, lazily, slowly<lb /><lb />Drifting into the restful, peaceful harbor.<lb /><lb />"KayY McLAWHON<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>The Rebel Review<lb /><lb />BREAKING DOWN THE BARRIER<lb /><lb />Breaking Down the Barrier (A Human Document on War)<lb />By Reiner Rodenhauser and Ralph R. Napp; Seeman, $3.95.<lb /><lb />Many individuals have attempted to justify the<lb />wages of war to men. Many others have attemp-<lb />ted to show that war is a Hell which no man can<lb />justify. BREAKING DOWN THE BARRIER<lb />is an attempt to take the Hell out of war, to limit<lb />its killing and destruction, and make it aim at<lb />peace, friendship, and cooperation instead of vic-<lb />tory (unconditional surrender). It is an attempt<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />to make war destroy itself by using war to break<lb />down the cultural and psychological barriers<lb />which cause people to go to war in the first<lb />place. It is an attempt to take both the gore and<lb />the glory out of war by using war with the skill<lb />of the surgeon, now here and now there, to re-<lb />move this or that cancerous growth in the family<lb />of nations and peoples and cultures.<lb /><lb />This oweapon of moral force� seems to have<lb />been in the mind and purpose of both Abraham<lb /><lb />37<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />Lincoln and Woodrow Wilson, but both were<lb />thwarted by men who despised this weapon. The<lb />Allied leaders of World War II also disdained it,<lb />insisting on victory in terms of unconditional sur-<lb />render. The matter remains of crucial concern in<lb />the nuclear-space age.<lb /><lb />According to this view, everything depends on<lb />the oaim� of the war, on what is meant by ovic-<lb />tory.� To have the aim, or goal, of the war clearly<lb />defined is to determine to a great extent the nature<lb />and character of every act and deed of the war.<lb />It is also to determine largely the attitude of both<lb />the combatants and the total population on both<lb />sides of the war.<lb /><lb />The German people have been accused of learn-<lb />ing nothing from their defeat in two World Wars<lb />and many people, especially in Europe, seem to<lb />fear that a reunited Germany would mean a re-<lb />newal of the old German dream of conquest.<lb />Doubtless this dream remains among some Ger-<lb />mans. One might question also whether the Allies<lb />have learned any more than the Germans. But<lb />this book, written primarily from the experiences<lb />and point of view of a wounded and defeated<lb />German solder, Reiner Rodenhauser, indicates that<lb />there is a new, vital, and constructive burgeon-<lb />ing in the GermanTs view of his place in the family<lb />of nations and peoples on the earth.<lb /><lb />The book is neither a story nor a study, but a<lb />mixture of both. It contains many heartwarm-<lb />ing experiences between prisoners of war and<lb />their captors on the one hand and a serious prob-<lb />ing of the aims of war and the relationships of<lb />peoples across battle lines on the other. The<lb />authors themselves have recognized the bookTs<lb />limitations in their prefacing statement, but have<lb />presented it in the hope that it will stimulate<lb />osome sound intelligent thought� on the whole<lb />subject of war.<lb /><lb />The book will provoke both assent and ques-<lb />tions. Most people perhaps will accept this eval-<lb />uation of World War II: oThe war had been too<lb />long, too costly and devastating to justify anyoneTs<lb />undiminished pride in his final victory, a victory<lb />that had been too total to leave room for a real<lb />peace.� A serious reader of the book will ponder<lb />such a statement as the following: oA nation that<lb />wants nothing but a just peace is free to use, in<lb />preparing for defense as well as in case of an<lb />aggression, the powerful weapon of stressing the<lb />positive (that is, ~whatever is decent, constructive,<lb />likeable and positive in the so-called enemy.T).<lb />Good is always the basis from which to attack the<lb />evil. If you destroy that basis by identifying<lb /><lb />38<lb /><lb />good with evil, you have to bear the consequences.�<lb />I was puzzled by this language of o~good,� oevil,�<lb />and oconsequences�, because no standard of ulti-<lb />mate values is presented in the book, and no<lb />sanction for these terms is offered. Professor<lb />Napp of our Social Studies Department, the co-<lb />author of the book, who become a personal friend<lb />of Rodenhauser while lecturing in Munich after<lb />his own combat service in Germany, tells me that<lb />Rodenhauser is a devout Christian of Protestant<lb />persuasion and that RodenhauserTs original ma-<lb />terial leans heavily on his religious faith. Pro-<lb />fessor Napp eliminated references to specific<lb />faiths because he felt that any single religion is<lb />only one among many and he wanted the book to<lb />apply as broadly as possible to all peoples. I<lb />agree with Professor NappTs reason for leaving<lb />out specific religious references. Apart from re-<lb />ligion, however, it seems to me that the subject<lb />of peace, friendship, and cooperation between na-<lb />tions and peoples, particularly as a goal in war,<lb />implies and presupposes some common values<lb />among men everywhere. Such a study as this<lb />would seem to make a probing for such mutual<lb />values imperative.<lb />The value of this book lies in the fact that it is<lb />a witness to its own plea. Two former oenemies.�<lb />a German and an American combat veteran of<lb />World War II, have found in friendship the de-<lb />sire and the will to join minds, spirits, and energ-<lb />ies to attempt to turn manTs barren ideas about<lb />war to fruitful ones. The book is profitable for<lb />reading, for study, for discussion, and for de-<lb />cision.<lb />D. D. GRoss<lb /><lb />A Sense of Values<lb /><lb />Wilson, Sloan. Sense of Values. N. Y.: Harper Brothers<lb />Publishing Co., 1960. $4.50.<lb /><lb />Today it seems proper for all authors to rehash<lb />the idea that success is failure. Not so much that<lb />success is failure . . . but that trimmings which<lb />accompany success cause it to leave an unpleasant<lb />taste in oneTs mouth.<lb /><lb />Sloan WilsonTs hero in this instance is Nathan<lb />Bond, a successful cartoonist, who after such<lb />traumatic experiences as alcohol, another woman,<lb />and a divorce, begins his search for his sense of<lb />values...<lb /><lb />NathanTs search becomes so boring that the<lb />reader is tempted to tell him at times"oforget<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>them, and live in unhappy oblivion.� But the plot<lb />wears on and so does the search"unfortunately.<lb />Both the plot and the characters reek of stale<lb />cigarette smoke and if one can finish WilsonTs<lb />latest morsel"he deserves a medal of honor.<lb /><lb />"STAFF<lb /><lb />HensloweTs Diary<lb /><lb />HensloweTs Diary. Edited with Supplementary Material,<lb />Introduction and Notes by R. A. Foakes and R. T. Rickert.<lb />Cambridge: At the University Press, 1961. Pp. [lix] + 368.<lb />60s.<lb /><lb />Edward Alleyn, principal actor with the Lord<lb />AdmiralTs Men, chief rival company to Shake-<lb />speareTs, and the son-in-law of Phillip Henslowe,<lb />the proprietor of the Rose and Fortune theaters,<lb />founded the College of GodTs Gift at Dulwich. In<lb />the college library repose some of the most signi-<lb />ficant documents relating<lb />to the English stage of<lb />the Renaissance Phillip<lb />HensloweTs diary and<lb />others of his private pap-<lb />ers. Henslowe was. not<lb />only the landlord of the<lb />Rose and Fortune the-<lb />aters, he was also the<lb />oangel� of the Lord Ad-<lb />miralTs Men and at times of various other drama-<lb />tic companies, and he kept detailed accounts of his<lb />financial transactions in the theater. In 1904, the<lb />late Sir Walter Greg published a monumental<lb />edition of the account book, known as HensloweTs<lb />Diary, and in 1908 a commentary and interpreta-<lb />tion of it. This edition has been long out of print.<lb />Thus Messers Foakes, and RickertTs new edition<lb />of the Diary together with supplementary mater-<lb />ial from HensloweTs other papers fills a great<lb />need.<lb /><lb />The manuscript of the Diary is a folio volume<lb />of 242 leaves measuring approximately 1314 by<lb />8 inches, originally bound in limp vellum. The<lb />volume was first used by Phillip HensloweTs broth-<lb />er John to record accounts of his mining opera-<lb />tions from 1576 to 1581. The volume then ap-<lb />parently passed to Phillip Henslowe, who began<lb />to use it in 1591 to record his own accounts, revers-<lb />ing the volume and working from the opposite end<lb />toward the accounts of his brother. Some of the<lb />leaves are now missing from the original volume,<lb /><lb />RICKERT<lb /><lb />SPRING, 1961<lb /><lb />but eleven fragments have found their ways into<lb />various libraries.<lb /><lb />In the Diary, which is really not a diary in the<lb />usual sense, Phillip Henslowe kept a record of his<lb />expenditures for actorsT salaries; for plays bought<lb />or in earnest for plays in the process of being<lb />written by such dramatists as Jonson, Dekker,<lb />and Webster; for fees for the licensing of plays<lb />with the Master of the Revels; for laces, velvets,<lb />sarsanet, and other materials, as well as hose,<lb />veils, elaborate gowns, doublets and breeches to<lb />be used as costumes, some of these items being<lb />listed for specific plays and ~characters; for re-<lb />pairs to his theaters; for the hauling of properties<lb />and goods by carmen and watermen to his the-<lb />aters; and, in addition to his expenditures, the<lb />daily receipts from specific plays on specific dates<lb />at his theaters. Thus the Diary is a valuable pri-<lb />mary source of information about stage conditions<lb />and theatrical productions during the years cover-<lb />ed by the accounts, 1591-1613.<lb /><lb />The Foakes-Rickert edition is an admirable one<lb />and a useful one. It contains, in addition to the<lb />Diary proper, pertinent selections from Hens-<lb />loweTs scribblings on the vellum wrapper of the<lb />MS. none of which were recorded by Greg in his<lb />edition; fragments of the original Diary, already<lb />referred to above; items which Henslowe wrote<lb />in blank spaces scattered through his brother<lb />JohnTs mining accounts; and selections from the<lb />other Henslowe papers relating to the materials<lb />in the Diary and consisting of letters dealing with<lb />theatrical matters, deeds of sale of shares in the<lb />theater ownership, warrants of various sorts, se-<lb />lections from AlleynTs notebooks, and HensloweTs<lb />rentbook, which lists his tenants. Appended are<lb />three indexes: a general one and two which will<lb />be a boon to scholars,working with the Diary"<lb />an index of year-dates and an index of plays<lb />mentioned. Also helpful, and quite appropriate<lb />historically for an edition of Renaissance docu-<lb />ments, is a glossary of ohard words.�<lb /><lb />The text of the Diary and the supplements are<lb />fully and carefully annotated. Wherever the pres-<lb />ent editors have differed with Greg in their read-<lb />ing of HensloweTs free Secretary hand, GregTs<lb />transcription is given in the footnotes. Six plates,<lb />photographic reproductions of portions of the<lb />Diary included primarily to show the arrangement<lb />on the page and the form of several types of en-<lb />tries, also point up difficulties in reading the hand<lb />and at least two reproduce cruxes in transcribing<lb />in which Foakes and Rickert have differed from<lb /><lb />39<lb /></p>
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          <lb />Greg in their reading.<lb /><lb />The editorsT introduction includes a brief sum-<lb />mary of the history of the manuscript, a descrip-<lb />tion of the manuscript and its contents, an ex-<lb />planation of the plan, method, and problems of<lb />the editors, and a most interesting section which<lb />poses questions challenging the validity of some<lb />long-held interpretations, e.g., HensloweTs illiter-<lb />ary and the meaning of one�.<lb /><lb />The tremendous labor and the careful scholar-<lb />ship in gathering and transcribing and annota-<lb />ting the documents is evident. It is is hoped that<lb />placing the Diary and pertinent documents with-<lb />in reach physically and financially in this easy-to-<lb />use octavo edition will encourage students of the<lb />drama to turn their attention anew to explication<lb />and interpretation.<lb /><lb />"Dr. VIRGINIA HERRIN<lb /><lb />A Man Against Insanity<lb /><lb />DeKruif, Paul. Man Against Insanity. N. Y.: Harcourt<lb />Brace and Company, 1957. $3.95.<lb /><lb />I have recently been introduced to one of the<lb />biggest olittle� men in, AmericaTs world of science.<lb />Contemporary. I came to know this olittle� man,<lb />Dr. John F. Furguson, through an inspiring<lb />biography, Man Against Insanity, written by Dr.<lb />Paul De Kruif. Dr. Furguson is, in a sense, a mi-<lb />crobe hunter like those described in De KruifTs<lb />book, Microbe Hunters. This somewhat less tang-<lb />ible omicrobe� against which Furguson is strug-<lb />gling is abnormal behavior, the fundamental char-<lb />acteristic of all mental illnesses. The very fact<lb />that Paul De Kruif has chosen to write the story<lb />of Dr. Furguson is sufficient to convince me of the<lb />~oJittleT manTs greatness.<lb /><lb />Jack Furguson was a man filled with the belief<lb />that human suffering should ~be alleviated, and<lb />this one belief caused him to fulfill a life-long<lb />ambition at the age of forty"that of becoming a<lb />medical doctor. After a severe coronary heart at-<lb />tack, Furguson became addicted to barbiturates"<lb />and it was during his rehabilitation that Furguson<lb />decided to dedicate his medical career to the field<lb />of psychiatry. It was in his search for his own<lb />peace of mind that Furguson developed a special<lb />treatment with Rauwolfia (whose common name<lb />is Serpasil), and opened an entire new chemical<lb />world.<lb /><lb />Man Against Insanity is a stimulating narra-<lb />tive of how one man dedicated to the principal of<lb />human dignity has restored hope for a score of<lb />mentally ill persons.<lb /><lb />"STAFF<lb /><lb />40<lb /><lb />The Light In The Piazza<lb /><lb />Spencer, Elizabeth. The Light In the Piazza. N. b fe<lb />McGraw Hill, 1960, 110p. $3.00.<lb /><lb />It is seldom that a novel is written which ex-<lb />presses in poignant terms the dilemma of human<lb />emotions.<lb /><lb />Novelist Elizabeth Spencer cleverly unfolds the<lb />dilemma of a mother with a retarded child. In<lb />this case the child is a beautiful young girl of 26.<lb />Mrs. Johnson, a sensitive southern woman, is on<lb />vacation in Italy when a young Florentine falls<lb />deeply in love with her daughter. Never for a<lb />moment does Mrs. Johnson doubt FabrizioTs love<lb />for Clara, but she does doubt her own motives.<lb />Should she or should she not give permission for a<lb />wedding?<lb /><lb />This is the dilemma"to do or not to do! How<lb />she resolves her conflict engages the reader in<lb />several hours of suspenseful reading.<lb /><lb />"STAFF<lb /><lb />East Carolina Shops<lb /><lb />at<lb /><lb />PENNEY'S<lb /><lb />REW ANSE E ERS Eo OA ALE ION:<lb /><lb />GREENVILLE, N. C.<lb /><lb />WorsleyTs<lb /><lb />oHOME<lb />of<lb />FINE SHOES�<lb /><lb />116 East 5th Street<lb />Greenville, N. C.<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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