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Excerpts from Spring 1958 Edition


Science has entered the talk of men.
Problems are solved with paper and pen.
Universal travel is troubling our minds.
Talk of planets and possible finds,
Nebulae and stars, and even the moon
Intrigue us with dreams of going there soon.
Kingdoms and nations have entered a race,
Struggling to obtain the foremost place.

Visions of men have now become true,
All are astounded by things that are new.
Nobody knows just what is in store,
Goodwill. among men is sought evermore.
Uneasy times are expected by some,
Argued by others that peace is to come.
Regardless of what the people may do,
Does not God have the future in view?

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As her tired old body rocked back and forth in the old rocking chair, her thin mouth hummed a sweet tune. The voice was weak and unsteady, but the words could be clearly understood as she sang a folk song of the old days. Her mind wasn't as sharp as it used to be and always thought back to the way things were long ago. The wrinkled lines of her forehead told of a hard life, but her clear blue eyes had always been her best feature. When she was young, they had been striking against her black hair which the years had now turned grey. Her once striking figure had become plump and aged.

In her wrinkled hands she held her knitting needles. She seemed to be knitting something for someone. Her feeble mind never seemed to accept the fact that her family had been killed two years ago. They had been her only family, and her only tie to modern life. Now that they were gone she lived in a world of her own, centered in the past.

As I gazed at her hard wrinkled hands, I saw no wool. Yet, her needles clicked, endlessly producing emptiness for emptiness.