ME RR a eR ay ce RS RE CS PR NEY EEE A A SE I REE ESE AN nt RAR SO tt, RR ma cen ee ee eee RES em Re NS MEER IE SE Seg EE TEAR ‘ Serie: ig 2 ES SO elie — rg RS =. oe > wy 3 ‘ f/ / / / t Ly rit Py ete 2 ss 5 th : ip : 2 eet, T weet as “ - os 2 ann, J bh EN EE IIR CI ng te Sk “6 GRO trae nape a ELE Seta TS aie EE ae oer ae Se Se yo Sp eR eit Re xs Aa ee Ni a See ER ie See [Sa - pom HEREALSE SESSA NS See A tate a as PRESS 4 cig. Seat ieee we ee inte A a, SRE AR LA EEE IR eS (PRE ARO Et RE LEI ISS CPLA Loess The Contributors David Lane is a senior from Asheboro. After his story was accepted he was ap- pointed Managing Editor of THE REBEL. Hugh Agee is a senior from Petersburg, Virginia. He has three contributions in the fret icsue of THER. REBEL. Carolyn Upchurch is a sophomore original- ly from Nashville, Tennessee and Raleigh. She now lives with her husband in Green- ville. as Swartz is a freshman from Kalama- >, Michican. Kaye Whitfield is a junior from Manteo. Jean Bowles is a sophomore from Beau- fort. Lewis Newsome is a junicr and resides in Greenville. John Hudgins is a sophomore from Char- lotte. James Hardy is a junior from Greensboro. JOhn Gulnn is a junior from New York City. Jichn Butler is a junior from Petersburg, Virginia. Next year he will be Book Review Editor of THE REBEL. David Patterson is a senior from Raleigh. Bryan Harrison is a junior from Asheville. He is one of the co-editors of THE REBEL. i . ex appa cee ie 5a ee ita PS LISI TE WR ET DDE ISM? F Letter To The Editors Dear Editors, | I thought it appropriate to write this let 1 ter before the first issue was published foypp. what I have to say doesn’t concern the api} pearance or the material included Carolina in its fifty years of operation ai } a college. I would like to cogratulate thi @ person, or persons, who thought of the pro } ject. I have read that your policy ig to accep i only student writings. I think this is a fini 4 idea, for so many college literary magazine accept faculty stuff and sooner or later I turns into merely a faculty Journal. that The Rebel will become a true organ fo! student expression, for certainly we nee | one here. Sincerely, Lewis Gordon ABOUT THE COVER—The cover is an ink sketel of Ernest Hemingway by staff artist Billy Arnold | See Hugh Agee’s critical essay of one of Heming | way’s works on page 5. | ng Rebel” | | GUARANTY BANK AND TRUST COMPANY | Congratulations “The R Serving Eastern North Carolina Since 1901 Member Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation | TRADE-MARK REG. COCA-COLA BOTTLING. COMPANY, = 3. PAT t I nopt & ' Ndi Bu Mess OFF. vel in the@.. meazine, but it does concern the idea of ?# literary magazine on campus. I feel that 1 |i is cne of the finest ideas developed at Eas | GREENVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA ted mpan SAE SL EE A, ei ttre, SHS Se ee en cangeetig! St A SRR e Be ee. Sea ener eee AR I ai een HB SR me th e nem eS RSE Se pea Sam Mei ey ela steep Sl cpsabege: Wms MamSth tec agi Signa wAaideamadn> Re eden a ve " ia &. oF, reb e8ilh,; oo BSR a ACR AN a MRE RA SE a A SE a AR EACLE RR A A EO a, RO eR: i SS Nc MT SRE ie Rc I ST A EAL iI LEAL ERRNO Ii AIEEE EGE EE DLR GE LES ENLARGE BEELER The Rebel this | sora. 135.38 Shed ((OLUME 1 NUMBER 1 the aublished by che Student Government Association of East Carolina College, Greenville, North Carolina. ln j@eated by the Publications Board of East Carolina College, as a literary magazine to be edited by s.udents re of nd designed for the publication of student material to be selec_ed on the basis of quality and good taste. that al Ka Co-Editors = iy Arnold, Bryan Harrison aUlon Managing Editor Se ee ee Dai ae late Exchange Editor __ ee ... Naney Davis the pp Assistant To Editors ee a eo Business Manager | ee Over Whine acca Sa fin lee In This Issue Thor A OB TTGR TO Tia BDITORS 20 2 San f AN EDITORIAL my Oe THE SOUTH AND REVOLUTION ... #53 A A CRITICAL ESSAY A PARA WHE TO WAR... 5 By Huge Agee TWO SHORT STORIES ke sl HOMECOMING ___.. = S 7 Ayal By David Lane , nail MR, ROBBIE 6 9 By Doe Panes son SIX BRIEF SKETCHES ance SLUMPTOWN SATURDAY NIGHT =. = eee 10 By Joe Swartz MEMORY CHAPEL: 225. : 11 By Lewis Newsome J D WATHRERONT =. oe ee 12 By Jean Bowles JOHN GASKILL AND THE SEA oe 13 By Kaye Whitfield : PRI Pio UwG, FV URGINDA a1 - By Huge Agee | CLOUD OF OR TUE SEY 2 10 By Carolyn Upchurch ne BOOK REVIEWS “Way JURKREwS PLY UPB 2. 17% By John Builer — fA RIDE THEOUGE TIN TOR” _.. = 17 ssi By Bryan Harrison “THE SPIRIT OF THE CHASE” an 18 y By David Patterson "MOURNE THEOUGH THE BUINS = 24 By Huge Agee POWTRY 7 é By John Hudgins A POR Sy James Cardy = 22 | TWO POMS Ty Jorn Ounn = So ee 22 ¢OTICE—Deadline for material for the next issue of THE REBEL is September 11, 1958. Editorial and wusiness offices will close May 9, 1958 and reopen September 11, 1958. Contributions may be submitted in Jerson to the editors or by mail: Box 1420, ECC. Manuscripts and artwork submitted by mail should be ‘«ccompanied by a self-addressed envelope and return postage. The publishers assume no responsibility for A ume return of unsolicited manuscripts or artwork. ebb pring, ToS 8 2 agg ee SEAS REARS EERE EE Ea ose, et Et - Ss Pe Pe sa ing APRIL LEO D AE AE MEPL A EAN R DRE GL AREAL. ARIE ALLL, ELE ROTO De A i et BERRA tt cS i an IR A a RB AP te 2 st Sa = gence (aes: takiaatetcaains Sea . An Editorial The South and Revolution When one thinks of “rebel,” one gener- ally thinks of two things: The South and revolution. And both of these connotations have, in a loose sense, a real meaning for the beginning of this magazine. If the reader examines the first issue he will find, not too carefully hidden, the South- ern point of view. This apparent limitation was not necessarily intended by the editors, but for its presence there is a_ logical explanation. In almost all Southern writing there seems to be an acute, passionate awareness of place. And, almost without exception, the best writing is written by people who are describing and writing about the land and people they know best. Hence, the South- erner, who usually loves the South, usually writes about the South, and most of our con- tributors are Southern born. However, when the reader reads carefully he will notice that the student writers have not entirely confined themselves to their bat are stmiking out to write of a world of new things and places. Certainly there is no editorial restriction on subject matter, so long as the material is generally interesting and fundamentally sound as good writing. geographical are: . And in a sense we may be launching a sort of revolution. Responsible leaders of government, industry, and education have continuously pointed out that our colleges and universities are not producing men and ° — . “ 3. . = ii ni sen lis ta is $5 EAE PI OLE LEP EIDIEIE D ISDE IS OPT F EN a ST A TERE EN AILS N EAI I LED I I LO IE ie 3 pecs e \ ow ad — ed women who are able to cope with the def manding intellectual problems of the atonii y age. Freshmen entering college are ma prepared than their fathers. Their educi y tion and society have emphasized the ini! portance of “making a living,” and they hav 1 already chosen a specialized field whid ff leaves little room for Darwin or Shake dl speare. i WI Their desire is for specialized training dh ee and they have no time for academic theory] aif (; or for that matter, for any form of intellec “lous Consequently, schools hay i ‘ tual | activity. compromised to satisfy this desire. | possible these days to go to a liberal ark! i institution and learn plumbing. t ies t! wal Present day emphasis is on specializatia a and materialism. Narrow psychological pre Vppen : : : ‘me in occupations have replaced basic doctrine pt}. in art, science, and philosophy. It is nie,” hi wonder that mediocrity is becoming mort and more apparent in college graduates. Nehly 3 And it is not surprising that an indiffe ence towards intellectualism permeates- worth sort of thing against which we hope to rebey 1h. constitute a revolution on any campus. the th aton ‘alnin theoijnd Catherine follows him there. ntellaallous Henry (I think I can justly call him shal al al ritical Essay Ernest Hemingway’s prose has made him amous; Hollywood has made his rich. With ihe re-make of his A Farewell to Arms presently touring the cinema circuit, this levriter would like to reconsider the novel, ind thereby challenge the reader to a more “heaningful evaluation of the film version the jvfrom the standpoint of theme and character- zation (and perhaps to read the novel, if ae has not yet done so). whi} In this book, we find an interplay of love ind war as Frederic Henry, an American mumbulance driver on the Italian front in World War I, suddenly finds himself in love with Catherine Barkley, an English nurse. Wounded by a mortar burst, Lieutenant idenry is transported to a hospital in Milan, For the dallous, for he has not yet been softened by jhe intensity of his love for Catherine), the It trrival of his girl friend is significant. Here- jofore, he has thought of their relationship 4s “‘a game, like bridge, in which you said things instead of playing cards,” but once ihe war becomes a menace to his own being, SE AE A AIRE PER SIR A CR IE EEE SAE LAGE ORG AE AEE OLE ELE ORE EEA ARERR LA CRG, AR I AT AR SEE AGE ER ALLE PIES AMES DOTS ALLEY SENN IEEE ARIE AE LAMELLAE ILE EIN A karewell To War By HUGH AGEE hanging over him, he makes his way back to Milan. There he realizes that the war is over for him; yet he has “the feeline of 4 boy who thinks of what is happening at a certain hour at the schoolhouse from which he has played truant.” There is a certain naivete about Frederic Henry that shines through in spots, and, indeed, it does fashion him as the errant boy. Once he is reunited with Catherine, he makes arrangements to flee to Switzerland. Since a conventicnal entry is impossible, they row across a lake at the border and manage to get provisional visas from the Swiss au- thorities. Their stay in the mountains wait- ing for the baby to come passes quietly. Hemingway exhibits himself as a master of small talk in these pages. They amuse them- selves with talk of the baby, of Frederic’s beard, of skiing, of Niagara Falls and the Golden Gate of San Francisco. They are unique in that they always get on so well together; there is only happiness for them, it seems. But in the sense that we have had the futility of war treated as a major theme, a a are ae a ai ee lizatigfomething happens that alters his outlook. cal pl\When she comes to his room for the first lime in Milan, he is aware of it, at least cM yartly. “When I saw her I was in love with is mer,’ he says. “‘Everything turned over in- ide me.” What follows is a period of love that is we find the futility of love added to it. The baby is born dead, and Frederic Henry learns that Catherine is to die, too. His re- action is bitter and realistic. “‘You did not know what it was about,” he tells himself. “You never had time to learn. They threw > a > a you in and told you the rules and the first genel 0 reb' highly idealized simply because the immedi- acy of war demands that it be so. In reality, ndififthey are stangers who meet under the most eatedanorthodox circumstances. From the begin- ing, however, Catherine Barkley has an al- most uncanny vision of the end, ““You will be ; is tyood to me, won’t you?” she asks. And then idds, ‘“Because we’re going to have a strange iife.”’ She becomes pregnant, but there is no jhame. Their love has transcended the limits mult the world around them. We get the full nN, ad omantic treatment as Henry offers to marry mer; but Catherine declines for fear that he will be sent home and thus parted from beligver lover. The war, which will not be denied, again nnakes demands on the lovers, and Lieuten- wnt Henry, recovered now from his wound, @eturns to the front. The stage has been get within the man, however, for the re- mellion against arms that is to come. He is ino longer satisfied to be a part of the action. tt is in the confusion of the retreat from aporetto that he makes his final farewell. With the risk of being shot as a deserter time they caught you off base they killed you, .. . Stay around and they would kill you. Henry then uses an analogy that sums up his feelings as he recalls throwing a log covered with ants on a fire. He remembers how they swarmed about trying to escape, but only fell off into the fire. Here was a chance to be messiah and lift the log off the fire, but he threw a cup of water on the flame instead, which, he felt, only steamed them. Now, as he waits for Catherine to die, he experiences a similar ineffectiveness. Catherine dies not fearing death, only hating it. We recall what Lieutenant Henry has said earlier, for in the death of Cath- erine it finds meaning. “If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill to Dreak them; so of course if kills them. The world breaks everyone and after- ward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of (Continued on Page 6) eUibaring, ~§ 1958 5 se a RR RC A i 8 Sa SORES ESE EQ IRE TE OB is ap BS BLE SA RT NR ae Sm ees Se, Se Se ee | a ae Bee ad oe en Ee er eee (Continued from Page 5) these you can be sure it will kill you too, but there will be no special hurry.” These words have meaning for everyone. One truly wonders if war is simply a method that men have devised to expedite the end. Certainly Frederic Henry conceived of this. In a novel where rain and gloom have an important role in accenting the mood, there are passages where Hemingway displays his ability to capture the natural beauty of mountains and mountain villages. He relies on his descriptive powers for expert transi- tions. Hollywood, with its mastery of color photography, will do well to match the sensitive artist’s eye. Frederic Henry and Catherine Barkley, along with the interesting but less important doctor, Rinaldi, are, in effect, ordinary peo- Three Poems By JOHN HUDGINS The black boy lay facing the ground jumped up, spun around then he Zigzagged, crisscrossed leaped and ran complex perplexed he stopped impatient sentinel saw a leaf falling stalked it and plucked it from its fall elastically grew tall held it a yard away rubbed it against his cheeks, next his nose retraced his steps placed the leaf where he found it falling “stupid fool!’ i yelled he did not hear laughing silently he reached to feel the world. “age ore REE SS SSE EEL IAL LLL IA EEL ELLE ALLELE IES OIA I pes: = : coed eS a - RE EE BR, A Se ae a ag a gt ERR ASE i IR OR oN gE i A stk im pn Sigs myn is wl ciel inn go abe) Ne ga Ie A ED Mirae Be Senne FI ple. Perhaps this is what makes the novele@ho — so challenging to the mind of the reader for there is a plane of identification withigt its bounds—a universality which must be present in any great book. Frederic Henry is a robust, man-of-thee world type (so much like Hemingway’ other heroes) ; yet, in spite of the fact thaja he proves his manhood with Catherine, thijif. me’ It’s | q pai p tw pundi writer feels that he is strangely sterile (noloshrist in the sense that Jake Barnes is sterile, bug from the standpoint of effectiveness). Cathphjethir erine is gentle to the end, always warm anj@jll’s considerate. It is the sheer power of hepye fr gentleness that sparks Henry’s revolt. Ipiing | the end, after her death, one wonders ji repre Frederic Henry is stronger after havingiings been broken. 1 ased 1 nbed Don't “Folly,” said the preacher, if ‘Disgusting,’ said the teacher here's of the new ear. ill fh “Hast, sale. (ne. playuoy to lis girl. ; Fekin “Cool,” chimed the rock and roll commercia) hot it rl /\Yep,- said the dealer, “Its a whirl.” y Bion “Cheap,” said the student li mel p of the French car. H ee I was “Economic,” stressed the president {s the of the school. bY traff “Profit,” beamed the maker as F ie he touched it. \ . Wt fuptly. “Gidup,” said the farmer nimy c to his mule. tim.” bill, st ny turn Okay, fancy fell with a fizzle | = fleeced of all its glamour ‘ i‘ : " r V gluttony gnawed the god eget : Hee fl all that blarney fell flat W fe par with Eros chewed up WIRE ch. Dred p how bare love looked Ne. Ty lying lucratively He sig like a lizard Gething 1} Penet the narrow bed squealed TMs gj sounding liberal love i Ped UM of my fat violent virgin Hike an, JeHt his restoring vain vespers yf Pick lll x the So nA ERT OSS SERRE SR pT ESN Na (dame i A RON LS om aR ra STA pa: HRN SSS PS EES Sig hae dig wider oye Sean ee Ra EF EN Oe OR AL RN aS wr eae ‘\a Short Story ee domecoming t th e, thin . a (n ‘xen two years, at least... By DAVID LANE “It’s been two years,” said Emmy as they xed past a bleached city-limits sign. “It’s seems more like Oh, a8 @onna be -. being back and all.” “{ Christ, thought Bill. Why doesn’t she quiet 4) hundred—just ages. »“4own? You’d think it was Fair Week or ers - prea ymething. Bill’s neck and back felt rigid. The long rive from home had tired him and Emmy’s hiking did nothing to relieve the tension. lide repressed his antagonism and vented his laVIheelings on the car’s accelerator. The in- ercl e 0 ‘yeased pace eased him. His mind was uumbed to all but the thrill of the speeding ar. "Dont drive se fast, honey . ; Slow IOWN, you’re liable to hit someone,” said immy invading his’ senseless _ pleasure. There’s all that homecoming traffic today.” Bill floorboarded the accelerator, passed car and squealed through a curve. The inrieking tire noise excited him. His ears eelt hot and his palms sweated making the deering wheel feel slippery. Cautiously he viped one sweaty palm at a time on his grey dannel pants. Just as methodically he put ils hands back on the wheel, gripped it hard, ind was pleased with the improved grip. As they crept into town, the monotony of ihe traffic overcame them after the speedy ide on the open road. “You Gent have to come, said Emmy tbruptly. “You never cared about anybody in My crowd anyway ... always eriticized ihem.”’ Bill, still grated by Emmy’s constant talk- ing turned and glowered at her. “Okay,-4 wont ¢o! ll get out at Main gall. .-1 realy dont cive 3 damn about Jeeing all those ‘old pals’ of yours.” The two drove on in silence. The small jollege town was filled with excitement. warge floats in brilliant reds and yellows were parked along the streets of town which were chaotically littered by bits of torn golored paper. The homecoming parade was wer. The narrow sidewalks were hidden irom sight as people milled about waiting ( Inazay| or things to happen. The excitement did iot penetrate Bill’s Chevy. After a monot- nous” stop-light-to-stop-light drive, they eared the campus. ill halted the car in yront of Main Hall, pulled up the hand- rake and opened the car door. He looked ast his wife’s face out of the far window bf the car and frowned. ‘“Piek mewupat...ubh.. lets see-—no .. Vil meet you-at four o'clock at the Pad. L756 p71 eo, a . Pee cat ” . oe = - ™ a igen EF A PR IE IN SE ae ig I RECS ERE I IAI SR A ER A ONL AEE AER LEE OAR AE AA EAE LOM GG AE SR AS TE I ESE BNE EEE LESSEE AMEE ALLEY SME EE ALLELE AE LALA ARE LILLIE LL LEE NELLIE ALD! LE GEE I OE IE — a a ae see You remember it’s that nice little place on the corner of Summit and Grant.” Bill stepped back from the car. Emmy drove away without looking back. The car’s engine strained to pull, the transmission thought for itself. He crossed the street, ran up the thick granite steps and quickly pulled open the door to the old building. The same musty odor he had come to know so well in his college days surrounded him as he walked in. He heard a laugh and an embarrassed couple stepped out of the shadow behind the door he had opened. They clung to each other and quickly turned down the hall. Bill laughed to himself. Not so long since I was carrying on like that, he thought. He stood and looked around. Once ori- ented, he went to the stairs and began the climb to the fourth floor. He didn’t hate the climb as he once had. It was only a minute or so and he was walking down an old familiar corridor. His footsteps, though hurried and hard, echoed and diffused into the silence of the old building. He passed a row of offices and stopped at a familiar one. The door was open. Things haven’t changed much, even for Dr. Frederick, he thought .. . same old rough shelves... -. straight. chair .:.. one window ... just one window .. . nothing to excess or without a purpose. The afternoon sun, shining over the half drawn shades, fell carelessly on the floor blending into other shadow forms making a rambling abstract silhouette. Bill moved into the shadow. Funny, how you associate color with a place or something... ol’ Frederick’s office has always seemed brown .. . except on rainy days ... even more gloomy then, everything in pastels of grey ... used to call this his cubicle ...same two desks. . . al- ways littered with papers and books. Poor Dr. Smith... don’t see how the two of them find room for everything ... place makes you feel cramped ... like a trapped animal. (suess that’s what I was too... never came in here that I didn’t feel tense or caught. His mind wandered back to Dr. Frederick and his college days. Don’t let anything keep you back, boy. Anything! This is good work, For. ead’s sake, Bill, don’t stay here. Go some place where you can breathe. You’ve a chance to be somebody if you leave here. Believe me, I’ve seen it happen before. I’ve seen good students, trapped in stifling surroundings, literally ttirn sour and... Bill, for your own sake ... for me if not for yourself, so and do something and let the world be the judge of it ... not just one narrow-minded little school. This place is the most uninspiring (Continued on Page 8) ~ Sot oath tt SR Ate I 8 pie TE Te SC WR NS na NR SHR aa Ta WE IS, See SS a neta Sipe | ane BERR aS a eae Ogg gre RES RR Ne terre eerie ee mat (Continued from Page 7) I’ve ever seen. You’ve really got it... you shouldn’t let anything secondary, ne paused AUrUpuy.. +) women. Don’t lose sight of your potentiali- ies dont be like the rest... dont. : . dont... be a Paviov pup all your life. Is it really that good, asked Bill? It’s not perfect, continued Dr. Frederick, bul youve Mastered yourseli. I can see youre not like the rest. Be glad you're different, Bill. Don’t tie yourself down to COMmortilily ... ve alive... be Original. . esexpe while you can. Wscape . . . thats the way it is Emmy, it’s not escaping from Vou ibs vovnme like that. Is just well ... 1 don’t love you any less when I’m writ- ing, but damn, Emmy, it means something tome. Its my calline. Ive vot to write—at least try. Do you understand? I understand, honey, she said vaguely. I guess I’m just being selfish to want you all the time. That’s good. I hoped you would. No, you don’t see, he thought. You can’t and you never will. You’re an obs- tacle that keeps me from being myself. I love you, Emmy. za,’ T love you too, Bill. | MN BZ, That's a dichotomy for yh i A you, he thoucht. You-love Mp ACA what ycu see, or at least Wey oem . may- pe you'll always love me .. youll never really un- derstand how things are withme... not really... anil. unit you do, you'll never really know me and youll just ¢o on loving what you see. I guess [’m gy SS f Seng one rae 093 \ to get away from that notion, Bill. None these points you’ve made are ever really safe—never for sure. Dr. Frederick walked to the window. Look down there on campus. Those are your safety conscious. Those are the ones who are satisfied with everything as it is. What one does the others do. By following the leader they’re satisfied. They’re like a bunch of animals all caught up in the college corral. They just run from one side of the corral to the other whenever a bell rings. Just look at them. . . a bunch of sheep, sunning themselves complacently just wait- 8 Pe a 3 BS St Sig nc NS Ee Rr A ice sate on-that point. safe! YG Boy, what had Dr. Fred- %y dys” eriek Said about that. AG Yip pe a) y Il Safe are you? You’ve got OVE ES AME A A EE ine eR otra Atecores Sees are aa get we ‘ LEO SE PRET RE NR UO IRE CO ABN a hi eg OE iT Fae RAE i Te BOR or AR i em A SEI Bp BEELER Fit PE ELLE L LD LE LL AA LRA LA LNA LD LAE LEP LAR ALICE LEAL OI sa ta EO EN PIII Saas Te en Ee NN aan we Se A DED tee eS Saree ST ing for the shepherd to ring the bell. He was right ... the bell. rings and thi sheep respond ... Just run... . Fun, rum run... be like everyone else... don’t think i ... run together. How well everything seems , to run when you don’t interfere... I wanted «ify. to be creative once... not any more. Ever} individual is a neurotic now .. . But, that’t gh. being civilized. We Bill idled back to the window. He stoo¢ fh for a few moments, turned and with monot gj jec' onous movement did the job of walking wre ¢ again. He glanced at his watch. It wai hip D — three forty-five. al gays |. need a drink, ~ Heme thought. inf in Wi hallway, went down tht Y stairs, and out the door hb had entered. He walking 0 town. thoughts were far away | He insulated from the work around him, until a bellig G erent horn honk brougi WM him to his senses. lea igm)) jumped back quickly. 0 fai|/i My automatic pilot ism | WAY! working so well. . W| to be pretty good at getting | around like that... guemg it’s all this extra traffic. $4 Caught up in the wave @ | SS = Be ‘ e.; . —— OS 2 Ne = LG ae WN oc AANA Ss Oe EA Y BES ae ANY} i i “ ree ay? raye y, bt shou race Ee CO! es f( ’ ive mM | dive to tl ptow 1 Jal m tl brini SSUI t Wi 3 Wi ey a the! curl ichal yf di shio rid | | flapped in the soft summer breeze. 2 bt | Memory Chapel By LEWIS NEWSOME The sun rays, finding their way through the heavy wisteria, settled on the quiet little brick building. Centered in the old Con- federate cemetery and almost obscured by dogwood was Memory Chapel. It stood like a sentinel in the cemetery surrounded by a rusted wrought-iron fence that once was fancy with filligree reminiscent of years. The narrow winding path leading up to the chapel was guarded by marble tablets marking the final resting place of the Con- federate soldiers. Some were fortunate to be remembered by their families long enough for the monuments to be erected. Others were not remembered at all. The only markers they had were the miniature dime store Confederate flags placed at their feet by the Daughters of the Confederacy. The flags almost whispered as their tattered ends The graves were covered with pale yellow dan- delions that grew in profusion between the mossy bricks covering the final resting places. Here and there between the plots, bird baths of molded concrete appeared to be standing on bases of deep. green foliage. Often they were filled with debris placed there by the thoughless urchins who played in the bamboo thicket behind the chapel. The bamboo thicket seemed almost mys- tical amid the tall oaks and blossoming dog- woods. One of the dogwoods leaned far over the fence toward the arch-shaped windows. Its blossoms were beautifully tinted by the sun’s reflection from the darker-than-laven- der panes of the chapel windows. The ivy-covered chapel had red-orange bricks peeping through in places. Once, the bricks of the building had protected the graves of the brave men who rested near by. The only entrance was a great pine door held together by wooden pegs. Above the door, set in the brick, was a cross of rough stone. The third stone in the shaft above the cross- arm bore a nature-sculptured face of Christ. The door swung freely open on great black wrought-iron hinges. Beside the door hung a large tarnished brass key. The door was never locked. As the strong door swung open into the sanctuary, the chapel was lit only ‘by the remaining rays’ of the sun streaming through the two stained-glass windows. The only furnishing was a simple prayer desk of dark mahoeany resting in front of: a natural cedar. altar..To the right of the altar. was. a bronze plaque of the same geometric design as the windows. The in- scription read, “Dedicated to those who S03 yg; 795s SAR it TR A OEE, CN NR RES ROLY EMRE ARE AB AEE LED ALR EM A I AE 2 cane en See are peer cae Fae Ret Sp Se ts ea a : — a ka ‘ _— er ll SO SS a TENANTS Ogee iggy te — —— od i -" FEB RA BB AE RO a SR SR Rc a CR ML ASR EES OR I TE RS ROE Ra A EE AS RR SE eS IS ORR i 5 IN REEL RES AF AY AE LEE ALEGRE SLE ETE IAT NOE AEE LE OS meine - Sees eet — SS SESS have worthily lived and courageously fought for tue fight.” (Continued from Page 9) the help of one hired hand, whom he affect- lonately called his plowboy. He usually kept a plowboy a long time, but towards the end they would stay for shorter and shorter durations, for Robbie was growing old and cross, and the boys would get enough of the old man’s ill humour. Even though he was without a helper, he would go about his work as usual, and if Jim, my brother, thought that the work was too much for Robbie he would march down the asphalt driveway to the foot of the mount2in and give the old man a hand. Often they would work late in the night hauling manure in the shaky old wagon with a pole for a brake, or bringing in the cattle with Jack, Robbie’s German shepherd, nipping at the heels of the animals. One hot Saturday morning I rushed fresh to the fields and found Robbie puttering around the barn. He was stroking a strange dog. “Hey, Robbie,’’ I called out. He grunted scmething at me and, stepping back, he called to the dog, “Up Doe, hyah boy.” “Who's Doc,” I asked? He looked at me as if I had said something outrageous and reylied, ‘“‘Well, everybody in the country knows tnat I’ve got one dog and his name’s Jack and if I get another dog and call him Doc then I reckon he’s Doc.” “T reckon so,” I said. “Are you going to the pasture today, Robbie?” I asked a lit- tle later. Ven. “Are yicu going to take the wagon?” “NGO “Are you going to take the sled?’ “No? “We're going to walk.” “if we ain’t going to take the wagon and we ain’t going to take the sled, then I reckon were going to walk.” “I reckon so, 1 said. And so we walked and I really didn’t mind, for even though I liked to drive Maud, the old araft horse, Robbie would get cross when I mishandled him. We shuffled through the grass and sand towards the river and im- mediately I got into some stinging weed. I began to dance like a nigger in a water- mellon patch and looking up at Robbie I saw that he was laughing at me. “What’s the matter with ya,” he asked? ‘1 believe it’s stinging weed,” I was al- must crying. “You mean this,’ he reached down and pulled a handfull of the ugly weed out of the ground. I looked on with horror as he rubbed it against his face. He laughed at me and soon I was laughing too and the (Continued on Page 14) 11 sina aS Ha ea SAR an sees ee Se SRS SS cages ce SRNR a SS ~ SB ig SS sh OR ae eR gt W aterfront By JEAN BOWLES Along the seawall securely-tied party boats with their hatches closed and their deck chairs covered, ride out the long winter months until spring when they will be pam- pered by their masters with glossy white paint, new manila ropes, and engine over- hauls. The southeast wind blowing in from the Gult Stream is light and unusually warm for December. Occasionally a slight shift in the breeze brings to the nostrils an indescribable odor—similar to that of col- lards stewing with a dash of salt added and intensified several times. Taking advantage of the calm sunny day, a hblack-haired young fellow with a _ sun- bronzed complexion repairs a net in the stern of the “Capt. Puck,’’ which has not yet gone south to Key West, Marathon, or Cam- peche. On a nearby dock two wrinkled-faced old men sitting on wooden fish boxes whittle with slow deliberate scrapes and reminisce —the catch of a white marlin off Frying Pan Shoals, the hurricane of ’36, their days in the Coast Guard, and the town’s centen- nial jubilee last summer. During a lull in their speculations on next season’s catches, they follow, through squinted eyes, the eourse of a churning and pulling tus out in the intercoastal waterway as it creeps southward against the current, towing a ’ j ee et ee é re oe ee ngiinstebaropess gua a tia Es ESTE = pat ake meter ; . 5 s . . Raab anime mie ee ra ape pe If He SR OFS EAE WDE Wee See ST Boe SOREL ALE EOE EEL BE NEC AR ALR ARE MAELO IA REE ITED LE LADLE AECL ADL LAA LLANE ALLL LAL EDEL LLL LAL AL PSC LI ALR AT FI RG Ss ae poe ih ie Se sig a a 2 e ox ge . c ‘) 6 ss ; barge loaded high with pulpwood. Occasionally two or three Negroes from the menhaden crews amble along the water- front. Their black hip boots folded down to the knees cause their gait to be slow and laborious. Their deep resonant voices carry on the quiet afternoon breeze, but thei ! Louisiana and Mississippi dialects make comprehending them difficult. Even the sea gulls change their habits in | winter. They stick close to the docks look: ing for food and rarely venture out to the | Miler. Li food is dificult to find, they. clamming. With slow majestic flaps of thei wings they sweep along the shore, and wher a piercing, always roving eye perceives a clam, 4a cull banks and glides to 1t. [nem off he flies with the heavy clam in his beak to a bridge on which he drops it to breag the thick shell. To the Florida-bound New Yorker, wh« throttles down and steers his yacht from the channel into the yacht basin to dock #. : for the night and take on supplies, the still ness is depressing. But to the natives every. ¢ thing has its season. Swimming, fishing and colorful, noisy tourists belong to thf summer months. Winter is an interlude of quiet rest between summer rushes—time ti sit propped against a piling on a dock ani lazily wateh bits of trash drift by on th tide. PLL A, AO SE EL, IO SRT I EA CN Rg PER NCTA Ct On OR IR Ce TBI eB ee a en a ees 0 RR RET: SRE NN PCA 5 as ma ge MSE SRE RAS, pa POT nae: poe Same DS a rN fro Wate t dow OW an S cary tL the; maki bits i S look to th hey g ft the; d whe rcelve Ther is beg - brea Yr, wh L Tre 0 doe le stil ever) Ishin to th ude ¢ ime t ck an on th John Gaskill And The Sea By KAYE WHITFIELD John Gaskill had always loved the sea. When he was small his mother had to watch him very closely to keep him from wander- ing down the beach. It was impossible to tell him how dangerous the ocean was. He felt like the water was his friend and thought that it could never harm him. Dur- ing the vicious northeast storms when the water was at its peak of violence, John could be found on the beach laughing at the sound of the breakers. As he grew older he could almost always be found on the beach. His father taught him to swim and like most boys on the coast he began to learn to handle a_ boat while he was very young. He began to fish with his father earlier than was usual be- cause of his skill in handling boats. By the time he was in his teens he was the best fisherman in the village. He never lost his love for the sea while he was vrowing up, but gradually erew away from spending all his time on the beach. In high school he found that he was a born leader of his classmates. But oc- casionally when he was in the middle of a crowd he would slip away for a few minutes to go to the beach and watch the waves break on the sand. Then came World War II. John Gaskill en- listed in the Coast Guard the day after he graduated from high school. All his friends wished him well and knew that he would be a success and he was. He gained pro- motions rapidly because of. his skill in handling men and his seamanship. Some time after he had left the village to enlist, he came back for a short visit, his last for perhaps some time, he said. He told his parents and friends that he had been transferred to sea duty and that his ship would patrol the coast off the village. He was glad because again he would be on the water. He soon wrote home and said that he had reported to the ship and liked it very much. He said that occasionally his ship was close enough to the village for him to pick out several of the houses and landmarks. It made him feel good inside, he told them. One night a few weeks later the villagers were awakened by the sound of an explo- sion from the direction of the ocean. Many of them rushed to the beach to see whether they could find out what it was. When they got there they saw two fires, far out on the water. They knew that a ship had been Sori oe. 29058 torpedoed or that a submarine had been dis- covered and sunk, but they didnt iknow whether it was their ship or one belonging to the enemy. They stood on the sand dunes and watched until the fires disappeared and then went back home, some of them to spend a sleepless night. The next morning just before dawn, John Gaskill’s father walked along the beach picking his way through the debris from the burned vessel. Just as the sun came over the horizon he saw what appeared to be a framed document washing up in the surf. He went over and picked it up. It was a wooden frame containing his son’s last pro- motion papers. The sea, which he had loved so well, had announced John Gaskill’s death. Petersburg, Virginia By HUGH AGEE The history of Petersburg may be traced through Blandford Cemetery where soldiers of this countrys major wars He. The city had its beginning as a trading post, estab- lished about 1675 by Peter Jones, and it is from this man that the city gets its name. It is told that in the early years of Vir- ginia’s existence a quantity of merchandise had been ordered sent to Petersburg from England, but through a misinterpretation of Petersburg’s location, the merchandise ended up in St. Petersburg, Russia. Petersburg is best remembered for its part in the Civil War, particularly during its ten month siege by Grant in 1864-65. In Blandford Cemetery one will find the graves of 30,000 Confederate dead and see the Memorial Arch erected in their honor. The first attack on Petersburg by Federal forces was made June 9, 1864. The town was completely unguarded when news of the im- pending assault spread through it like wild- fire. A force of about 125 old men and boys hurriedly rallied around an old Mexican War veteran who led them out Sycamore Street to take positions in the path of the some 2,000 oncoming Yankees. Although most of them were killed or captured, the small groups delayed the advance until reinforcements arrived to _ repulse the attackers. The strategic importance of Petersburg is reflected in the recorded struggle that ensued for possession of the city. On one hand, it was the backdoor to Richmond, a prize that had heretofore been unattainable for the men in blue. On the other hand, it was a terminal of the Weldon Railroad, the life line of Lee’s army. The most outstanding single engagement (Continued on Page 14) 13 “ = . ‘ eV elite RY Sot a pe sas ie GE Ete eS : PEER RSS EAS si oc ‘e % SS ee RTT ep nce age Sage eT REE ethan TS oi SRE Gl oe nr Sata ems Scag PREIS Se, ae gt RRR SE RD ST NR a SR AE RE A aes OE, REE ST ee FE Ge «Se gO igs an wi SS 8 Ce nag. i Se See SESS SERS RE REE RRA SERE SE SOLON RIE ROE es << — acters if a a ee Re ce er ee ER 2S 2 SERRE ER A ES — (Continued from Page 13) of the siege was the Battle of the Crat- er. Since the war, the battle has been re-enacted on several occasions, and the site is one of the chief attractions of the Petersburg National Military Park. A tunnel was dug by Pennsylvania Coxl miners from the Federal lines to a point beneath the Confederate lines and filled with explosives. On the morning of July 30, 1864, just as as black night was becoming gray dawn, the mine was exploded. The explosion ripped a hole about 200 yards wide in the Confederate lines and left Peters- bure’ open to attack. But the attack was delayed by a confusion of orders, and when the Federals finally marched into the breach, the Confederates had recovered to pour a withering fire in- to the massed Union ranks. The Union losses for this engagement were five times those of the Confederates. One ci the men blown up in the Crater and buried beneath a pile of locse earth, was a Petersburg native who found great use for the spoon he happened to have on him. He told for many years after the war of having dug an air hole with that spoon, which was immediately covered by the body of a Negro who fell over it as he was shot. He painstakingly dug a second hole, which kept him alive until he could be rescued. The siege was carried through a severe winter, with little fighting done for five months. The Southern soldiers were poorly clad and poorly fed, and in Home to the Cockade City, Harrison tells of copies of Hugo’s Les Miserwbles circu- lating among them. ‘They read the novel with interest,” he says, “sympathizing with interest,’ he says, ‘“sympathizing with wretches whose suffering rivaled their own. They were struck by the French title. Adding an e and an apostrophe, they dubbed themselves Lee’s Miserables.” Lee held Petersburg until the second of April, withdrawing at midnight. On the third of April, General Grant entered the city, and soon thereafter the war ended. Petersburg has changed, but beneath the surface it is a town proud of its history. There is still much to be seen around Peters- burg that points this out, and whether one is walking over its battlefields, or examining the recorded data concerning the city itself, he will hear the voices of the past speaking to him. 14 PRESSE EE ALA AME ELL, OIE PRO RAC I Og IC Rl Ot BER dB ca iE Ri i NS EB ne EN aie a eT BA TR a a Saag SS omy aac tere seep ee Ie Sia PBT Ri FE ee ED Bee i fe Sa <'' Sain me ES ens ae - eo ? ? = (Continued from Page 11) sting went away but my legs and hands itched all day. The rest of the kids looked bugeyed when I told them that Robbie was immune to stinging weed. We went on down the river and the old, man pointed out the different trees— the river birch, bent and peeling, the muscle wood, with its smooth, yet ridged bark, and the limber, low-hanging willows, bending over to touch the river. On the mountains grew tne laurel, which some folks called Rhodedendron, and dogweod and apple trees. In the valley grew the sycamoves and the mimosas. We came back to the barn and started across the bridge. A train came down the track and the new dog barked after it. | thought the old man would let fly with % stream of oaths, like he did when Jack mis behaved, but he waited patiently until the train passed and the dog started back, tail wagging. As soon as he saw the sudden erce expression on the old man’s lips, he crouched and turned his head and the old (Continued on Page 16) the rebel AORN ROS ERR IRN ALS RAL SBE: AR on PESTER MB Spa ae ee Nye = any no 1 nand : looke bie wa the ol Senet muscl irk, all bendin yuntalr calle le tree and th start ywn th eT It. with ck mi ntil tl ick, 1a sudde I Se A BR ng RR a Sy SR PR SE A oe A ERY OE ACNE OCGA LN ROLE IEEE A ILE, LLG OE LI SESE, (Cloud Over The Sky By CAROLYN UPCHURCH Author’s Note: The iollowing is a true ystory of one episode in the Civil War which ‘| {tions with a neatly tied bundle of letters. has been handed down through the genera- From one of these quaint parchments ad- int -\( dressed to my great-great grandpa come the Vig (jwords... There is 4 Grea, biack cloud over the sky hiding the face of God; yet some- times’ beams. of light irom His. Grace pierce the darkness and give us comfort in the reminder that this too shall pass ava « “Hey, Ma! Ma, them damn yankees is a’coming | “Now, Phlip, catch your breath and slow down a mite so’s | can understand you. Now how close are they?” “Just over the hill—in the far pasture. They’re campin down yonder by our creek —millions er em! “Well now, I don’t reckon as how they’ll drink all the water out, son.” “But that aint all: i heres a little Duneh of ‘em headed up here! Ma, they’re gonna take everything we got. I just know it! Mr. Cullum says they take everything and then burn the houses and that they take the women and make slaves out of them.” “Susan Carel? Susan Carol) fake the baby up, and Jamey, you and Josie go sit by the fire and Susie’ll tell you a story.” “Story, Ousiec, story. “T’d rather watch them damn yankees.” “Jamey! Now, go on with you.” “Na, l won't let’ em take you... not Ma!” “No, Phlip they won’t take me. You go 2 oe outside and look about what they be doin’. “Okay—but thunder, I wish Pa had left me @ eun, id kill em alll” “Shh! -Here, take a hunk of bread with you. And no more talk about killing. Out with you! Well children, maybe we'd best eat supper a little early tonight. Josie, get down the bowls and we’ll have a bit of stew. It should be done by now.” “Ma, do you reckon they’re coming here?” “Well now Susie they might, but they'll \| not harm us. Most likely they’re looking for food.’ Seren Oo; 1958 3 A a Si ih Ah a NES i a i a ah i SOT cRNA. GES A ARTE EES mee: “But we ain’t got enough for us.” “The Lord will provide. Jamey, quit play- ing with your food and finish your supper sa. Wo s there?” “Its me Ma,’ said Phlip.- “Lock the door quick. They’re out in the barn and they’re taking the cow.” “Susan Carol, look after the little ones. I'll be right back.” By the time Mrs. Allison reached the barnyard, everything had been upset in an intense search for valuables which might have been hidden. Her unexpected appear- ance startled the soldiers into momentary inactivity. “Gentlemen! Who is in command here?”’ Uncertain glances were exchanged; then chaotic babbling broke out. No one offered an answer to her question. Spotting her cow being led away, she cried, “The cow is all we have left—the only milk I have for my children.”’ The soldier shrugged indifferently. ‘Lady, we aint had no milk simce’ we can Ve- member.”’ “So you would take it from children.” “Come on Calfie, follow your Ma. Come On. “Not the calf. Surely you ain’t gonna take her! She’s not even a week old... She’d die before only day’s march was done!”’ “Here Calfie, calf. Here’s your Ma. Fol- low Mamma.” “Hey men, look what I found under that brush pile! A whole bowl of stuff.” “Please, that’s my mama’s wedding china and the things I spun and knitted for the winter. You've no use for little girls dresses, at least leave them. They won’t have nothing to wear when its cold if you take those!” “Ma, they ain’t paying no mind,” said Pll, ‘“‘Ain’t you got no heart at all? Has kill- ing and stealing and more killing killed your own souls?” “They’re taking everything!” “Dont be crying, son.. You re the man or the house now, so lets go back and be seeing Alter our tamily.” Arm in arm, they turned toward the house. Phlip raised a tear stained face (Continued on Page 16) 15 ia, PRES s “ ; SRST EN a ae PIES REIS ES sat in ath Sa Fah pS AE TR SE A, BE SELLE LEAD DLE LAE LEDER ENDED LIAL LOE EE cee. pa RSe* SS ee haa aie 5 ae NR Sa tei Se Se STE age tt aaah Sa Re eR — . See sig _— ' OTS SO ee ia “ti — is ae” 2 ASSESS sch i ibe tt REE A IS ATE EEL ROC AIL LEAL EE IEE II sss: ee ee Sere he amet 2A ELISE A EDERAL SAE 2 TE PRIME IE EE LER TS AE ERE SS ES saz Be si Sig < APPR LAL Tbe Re oP Ma tt ae a ” See pmeieene erat SERRE ra ete SE BPE RR pa em eR og epi ear Ren ne RORY She SCS ROE A ae rR AE EI SR RR RE LN ON ER Ss em a 57 ies —s — eee ; : (Continued from Page 15) toward the graying sky in the vain hope of seeing the “God that would provide.” “How come they took stuff they ain’t got no use for? They’ll be sure to throw it away. It’d just be in the way to carry.” “Maybe their commander told ’em to. A soldier has to obey orders you know. Maybe their commander—Phlip, I got an idea. [ll ask their commander !”’ “If you go by the woods and over the hill, I bet you’d beat ’em back too!” “The Lord helps them that helps them- selves ... we'll go back to the house and soon as they re oul of sight, [ll skidaddile over to that camp before any of the pokey-footed ole yankees can get there.” The soldiers ransacked and milled about for nearly another hour, then finally satis- fied that there was nothing left, they started back to their camp. They were not even around the bend of the road before the tiny, barefooted woman caught up with them. Twice she tripped and fell headlong into the dirt, wrenching her foot badly. Each time she rose only to run faster to make up for lost time. She was quite a sight in the midst of the hundreds of ragged, un- shaven soldiers who looked curiously after her. Intent on her mission, she proceeded undaunted until she found the commander, General Sickles. Lip trembling, but head high, she submitted her request. “Are those the soldiers coming up the road now?” -\es, sir. And thats my cow too.” “Well, we'll see to it that you get every- thing back. Lieutenant, send that patrol coming in up here. Ma’am these boys have been at war so long they forget everything except how tired and hungry they are. I hope you won’t hold it against them . Men, you will return to this lady everything you took from her home and that means everything! Brown, you and Higgins hitch up one of the supply wagons and load all thie stutt on 1) and take i back for Mre. Allison.” The soldiers meekly emptied their pockets and then sat down and began to take off the hand-knitted socks. Looking at their bleeding, sore-infested feet, Mrs. Allison saw not soldiers but boys—boys like her own, caught up in the tide of the black times and helpless to do anything but kick blindly and try to keep themselves afloat. Turning to the General, she spoke softly, “General, sir. Tell them they can keep the socks and 16 a OIE A St Te a a OS PS Ie Dilan TS EN Ren a) Sr Ee ee Pe ES Be Fs Sy eh ee SS" t oe" ' mae Zz } igo A ie q BEZERABN y 7 coe Y ff 5 Re MEEZLSFFE AP Ze ( (Acs pig I? ee sik : tae) ELLA Bon: eee oe ae (KEY LEE age ee = Sy . Zz PT PAT tT \ Zz-z ss | | _ Fag |S i a 4 SI jf sas. y Iw; ay esa } i Fi = : 2% sO a @fa48 | ; X fy \ = vba } ri et ry sd s 7s 03 . - te 2S erat : ay, ve 2. l= | Wig as vanessa eT Ill (Oo —, wat Ze “3 geen, a, a ee’ ste-Se Zs Nd MEL oS ete 2% at Li sey =i 4 ————— c=, as a ees i It — er 2? ax, ese 6 ee 33 << . we Ce Sey Ae IE ; 2 a Z wee =: oS am: q i ye See ga st a eee 5 mess) NN ae . L =—/| mm | hf Pe a, WT] \N AE Sons! ma) AA se ZF] BeZUIUe VA sie x ‘4 EB a A i ie — ag a ; faa [2 BAtes =, _— =! | ~S" é E>. ams we Ss =; = SoA | met: vais =— be ee ce ge Sa 7 DP Ai eeery — t Gr % — ‘a c= Ps AT = ae neckscarves. My husband and boys won’t be using ’em anyhow. May the Lord forgive us alll” (Continued from Page 14) man beat the living daylights out of him. The dog book they gave you in the drug: store when you bought dog medicine said never to whip a dog like that, even if iW disobeyed. But I don’t reckon Robbie ever read the book, and besides, his dogs out: lived everybody else’s including the man at the drugstore who gave ycu the book. We stopped at the bridge and the old mal looked out past the river and surveyed the broad expanse of the bottom land. “Where dices the river start, Mr. Robbie?” I asked presently. ‘Up near Pisgah,” he replied. “How does a river start?” “A lot of little rivers run into it.” “Where does the river go to?’ “To Knoxville.” I thought about that fot awhile. “Where’s Knoxville?” “Behind where the sun sets.” “Then it’s over there,” I said, pointing to the west, proud of knowing where the sun sets. We were silent for awhile, jug looking at the rows and rows of corn. “Mr Robbie, you know what my Daddy said woull (Continued on Page 20) | Lhe rebel SE A EA IL TI Ec Nt TRIN BS NEI OTR At i et i an tas en»
  • dash rs of ‘e his 1 mili- ‘raphy 1s like ted at (Z be SR a Ee aE Ke (Continued from Page 18) West Point, and early in life we see him on Khe Western frontier fighting Comanches. He married the daughter of Colonel Phillip St. George Cook, who, when the war came, chose the Union and thereby created strife in the Stuart family. Jeb was in Washing- ton by accident when the Harper’s Ferry in- cident occurred and he played an important role in the capture of John Brown. Later, the war came and at the age of twenty-eight Lieutenant Joseph Ewel Brown Stuart rode out of the West to defend Virginia. Stuart’s philosophy of war was best sum- med up in a remark to Stonewall Jackson before either of them were the great figures they both came to be: “If we oppose (the enemy) force to force we cannot win, for their resources are greater than ours. We must substitute esprit for numbers. There- fore I strive to inculeate in my men the spirit of the chase.” This he did and the result was felt by the Confederate High Command at some crucial times when “the chase” turned into a joy ride. Stuart was the embodiment of all that was Southern; he fought yankees by day and made merry with patriotic Southern women by night. Although outnumbered, Lee’s horsemen could literally run circles around the enemy, for riding and shooting was second-nature to Southern boys and the romance, chivalry, and esprit de corps of the general and his stam mad ite effect. The famous ride around McClellan, the raid on Pope’s headquarters, the raid into Pennsyl- vania, and the brilliant screening movements at each campaign brought Stuart commen- dations from Lee, Longstreet, Jackson and President Davis. Yet after Chancelorsville, the Federals began to count sabers and the yankee shopkeepers and farm boys had learned to wield them. No longer able to check the enemy columns Jeb found praise and adulation coming slow. His most be- loved lieutenants were being killed and the confederacy was doomed. Stuart died in an effort to halt a yankee raid on Richmond. The author devotes considerable space to minor characters that surrounded Stuart during the war days: John Pelham, the brilliant boy soldier, who organized Stuart’s horse artillery and won more distinction that perhaps any other field officer, Boast- ful Heros Von Borke, the prussian soldier of fortune, William Blackford and John Esten Cooke, writers of memoirs, Wade Hampton, the giant South Carolinian. Burke Davis’ biography of Stuart is a superbly constructed book. With little or no interpretation of the events he allows the reader to draw his own portrait of the man—his weaknesses and strengths, his successes and mistakes. Of course, this type SD OT itn of , i275.3 Sea aah ic, Sa ah CU NORRIE eng rae Rage ane OT ct rms | eS TAREE Ree Te ee of coverage is ideal for the Civil war stu- dent, but factual reporting becomes dull for the unorientated reader. Yeu the author does a remarkable job of reporting; and the work he has done, both here and in the past, of re-examining sources and throwing out accepted fallacies, places him among our top civil war writers. “Journey Through The Ruins” By HUGH AGEE When the World Ended: The Diary of Emma Le- Conte. Edited by Earl Schenck Miers. New on Oxford University Press, 1957. 124 pp. 00. At a time when so much is being written about the Civil War, a book such as Emma LeConte’s Diary is of particular importance, for it is through such first-hand accounts that we learn of the impact of the war upon the people at that time. Earl Schenck Miers, who edits Miss lLeConte’s account, has proved himself a capable scholar and _his- ‘lan of the Civil War era in previous works, especially The General Who Marched (o Hell, which would serve as a prime pre- requisite tor any reader of this diary, since (Continued on Page 20) BELK-TYLERS “Sportswear Headquarters for Young Men and Young Ladies’’ IN GREENVILLE COLLEGE VIEW CLEANERS AND LAUNDRY 109 Grande Avenue—Main Plant Fifth Street and Colcnial Heights Branches 19 ROR ARE RE eS ee ate mE Ra ieee WE SRN See Si a a a : - se 2 Sele ESS Se RE I Se RE ee SE EE EEE PLES A SIO EL ROE ENED AAG LEAL LEE NLL LEA AA LLA LA GRG LGE AENEAN ELE SIDER EE ALLEL SALLE AMD DLE EAE ELON REALL LE LEAR AINE Oe ee ee gs tas: - ; ae 1 bid | =] =) 3 5 ‘a 4g 3 ey ze ee s bs eS, ae . ed ES Ry = a. x = eet = a = ‘ Ei a 1 é ERE TRS Bish Heinle iiipsep odie RENE /lies ea atowastoo as uo CVO NUMO MEY YL Weis Cau IPS NS SUSE eA as OHIU Ged (Continued from Page 19) it deals with Sherman’s march. Emma LeConte was thirteen when the war began, and seventeen at the writing of her Diary. The daughter of a college pro- fessor, Miss LeConte displays a sharp in- tellect and a keen sense of awareness as she records the events centered around the burn- ing of Columbia, S. C. Her diary begins on December 31, 1864 and is concluded on August 10, 1865, and during this time she reveals herself as a brave, considerate, but somewhat sentimental, young woman, who, like so many Southerners, could not believe that the cause was truly a lost one. She re- signs herself to further hardships as she is convinced that “guerilla fighting and all the atrocities and evils that come in its train” will follow if the armies of the South are overthrown. Emma LeConte, at seventeen, may be con- sidered a mature woman, for growing up in the midst of war clearly forced her into reality. In spite of her romantic ideas about her land, she could not put aside the anguish and discomfort that war brought to her. Yet, as one reads of women making their clothes from coarse homespun and living on flour and rancid pork, one cannot help but note the almost passive air with which these conditions are accepted. This diary serves to accent the chauvinism Renfrew PRINTING Company COMMERCIAL PRINTERS 716 Dickinson Avenue Dial 2861 Greenville, North Carolina terete PR Ee eh Re aE RE SE SEA of Southern womanhood, and as we read it, we realize that the prevailing Southern charm of the plantation era is lost to us. As a measurement of Southern life and South- ern thinking, Miss LeConte’s diary deserves] to be read. However, for a close look at the; sack of Columbia, this diary would not suf fice, for most of her entries about the city are second hand, except for her journeys| through the ruins following the fire. | (Continued from Page 16) happen in ten years.” “Whats that. | “He said there would be a row of suiokel stacks up and down the valley as far ag the) eye can see.” I thought this would make an. impression on Robbie, but he showed no sign| of it. He merely began stroking his beard and gazing intently with his hard blue eyes. I iried tv imagine rows of smokestacks in| the fields instead of rows of corn. “Do yot think there will be a row of smokestacks as far as the eye can see, Mr. Robbie?’ Heé Icoked at me ag if noticing me for the firsm Zi inary time and after awhile he turned toward ie looking at the mountain. “Let’s hope not, son. Let’s hope not.” The} fii! wind blew through the cld man’s hair, ang stroking his beard, he locked like a shepherd (Continu:d on Page 21) Compliments of PEPSI-COLA BOTTLING COMPANY Greenville, North Carolina 992 EB. Fifth Street lle ’ Greenville, North Carolina Prone 5511 20 — the reba a ie Mt ei Moll bi Mri i a ; Ly i 9 BR. PRESS en, Seni aie ao Deal : ; BS eed < —— a a a RE a cB Bc a etn a “ St Seas . SS RS ee PS SETS Oe OIE SB Aha i fg i 5 tle i gs . ‘ce a ex Scere . = > — = SRE OS | SR SNe CO La eg see Soe ne bes 6 Nop Aer: jereck- = = = nine Sema a ee eS —_ ~ ERED Ca & 2 SR ERE SS SAR ST SAAS EAR SRR PR SI PR WC NE ORE AE SY my ARE A RI a A EO Me AR AER ASI at GR RE BE IE EER EE ES IE BT ST ee SONS EE AE IE AY TE GLI OER LE TEEN e read j Southen to us. 4 nd South ! deserye Ok at th | not sy the Clty journey. ‘e. : Of smoke ar as th make aj d no sig nis bear blue eye ‘stacks | “Do yo okestack ybie?”’ F the firs Tard hom not.” Th hair, ar shepher [PANY A (Continued from Page 20) who had iost a sheep. ‘The spring that [ became big enough to handie a plow was the year Jack died and Maud was swapped oft for a younger horse and Kobbie’s tinal plowpoy walked oii in a nude. The winter before we had suffered the heaviest snow that I had ever known and in l’ebruary the river burst its banks and the water closed the highway and the rail- road and seeped into Robbie's house at the foot of the mountain. ‘They tell me that in l¥lo the river broke through a dam tp i the valley and the water reached as high as the nouse we lived in, halfway up the mountain. KObbie was younger in tnose days and often he would talk ct the great flood and how the bridge was wasned away and how the amusement park, erected by the city, had disappeared in a matter of minutes. Alter the 1loog, the tity leased the lang 10 Koobie and he worked it every day, come show, fiood, sickness, or falling crops. All through the summer months, 1 woixked in the licids with Kobbie with all the en- thusiasm of a boy in iove with his work. Une night, sitting on Robbie’s stone steps at the fcot or the mountain, I revealed to the old man the plang [| had formed since I was old enough to cross the highway by myself. I told him that | was going away to school, when I was old enough, and study agri- cuiture. When 1 got out I was going to re- turn to tne valley and become a farmer like himself. He nodded his head, “it’s not easy a life as you might expect.” Autumn came and the river, low and snal- low, was calm, and as the level sunk, the river revealed small islands and huge pieces of conerete that were part of the bridge desiroyed in 1916. And as the willow leaves feli from the trees and floated down the river, the last ears of corn were gathered in the tields and the stalks were cut and gathered tor feed. And the fields were clean and scattered with pumpkins and the apple trees cn the mountain dropped their fruit. The days were pleasant and cooi. One October Friday of that year, Robbie died. He had been sick all during the har- vest weeks. Stubbornly refusing any at- tention that neighbors were apt to give him, he laughed at their undue concern. How- ever, he grew too weak to cook for himself and my mother, shawl over her head, would carry trays of food to the foot of the moun- tain. Finally, when she saw that the old man was too weak to move, she called an ambulance. | watched Jim and another man put the still-protesting Robbie into the am- bulance. He had cancer and they refused to let me visit him in the hospital and in a few S O71 8. 1958 Igy aM PE NR Re ng a a ORT tine Ra UE a AIRE aa i ata EE SGT ais days he died, far away from the river and ihe valley. I retuined home from school six years later. Waelking down the familiar asphalt drive, I saw that someone was living in Mr. Robwie’s house. The barns that had laid on ihe other side of the highway were gone and, as I started across the concrete bridge, I nvuticed that there was a railroad track on this side of the valley and that in order to lay the tracks a great embankment had been erected. The February flood would not get past that bank nor would corn grow in the now adulterated field. There was an olly film on the surface of the river and I had been told that the factories upstream had polluted the water and killed all the fish. Aud I stood at that spot where Robbie and I often stood and saw that the garbage dump was directly below me and the great trucks Were unloading piles of trash and a man on a bullaozer was grinding it into the earth. I locked further ahead and saw seemingly endless miles of twisted, rusted steel where the junk dealers had deposited the wreckage of an age of mechanization. And I could see that further up the river, three new bridges had been constructed. And behind those great silver ladders of steel, I saw the col- umns of black smoke rise into the sky, sym- bois of a new world. TUXEDO RENTALS COMPLETE OUTFIT $8.95 Coat, Pants. Shirt, oid Curt Links, Commer bund, Tie; and Sus- penders. Incl. offmans MENS WEAR 21 Sai EE Se in RE I Ee eS RR r . aie 3 = ae q sige Re A ee NS AR a Sm lA dee EEE Ne, SRR SS en Satie Sigs - cine ee RR ae Sa ES ie OE eat Sas Se eee ERE ee SRE eS eee eS Se a ee a eee ee Three Poems By JAMES HARDY Run, Scal,. Kill A at And hang him on a tree; fi ne hollers jet him go By JOHN QUINN And bury him with me. If I should die behind a bush Without my gabardine, Put me in a cart and push me as far as you can lean. Then, when Daniel blows his horn And asks for volunteers, Funnel up his trumpet high And fill him full of beers. If he cries before he dies And craves another shot, Turn the train around again And find a wet depot. When I am dead and this is read By critics full of sneers, Funnel up his trumpet high And fill him full of beers. By JOHN QUINN The mad scent of flesh confuses most he who declines the touch fearing the meek design the honey mounds unable to recall bliss in the arguments of bartered kisses nor the yellow-haired mood of nude adolescence Ill from her leaving the man stands upon the pedestal of his heart lulling songs eullinge in- determinate caresses and irretrievable goodbyes Jesus was not more isolated than he This bed strewn with books Duped Leda was not more questioning her feather bed sublime than she Pe = 4 —-- BRS Le PR pe ia = 2 Sil cw a . ‘i = Ss 3 = = PEE S Het lg SOP — RSE Ha See — ES SE IE ER FEN AINE SO OI A TN I Si AO Eo Rs liga ing Pe PRR PRMD > eM Se ace Ee ee