Bluets - May 1938

[cover of "Bluets," May 1938], University Archives, D. H. Ramsey Library, UNCA

***************************************************************

BLUETS

A Literary Magazine Dedicated

                                                       to the

Expression of Progressive Undergraduate Opinion

******************************************************

'Twill not be long before they hear
The bull-bat on the hill,
And in the valley through the dusk

The pastoral whippoorwill.
 A few more friendly suns will call

The BLUETS through the loam,
And star the lanes with buttercups.
Away down home.

—john charles McNEILL.

BILTMORE   COLLEGE

asheville, north carolina
May, 1938

Co-Editors                                                                                                 BLUETS                                                              Adviser

wilma   dykeman   and   george   smith                                                         miss   virginia   bryan
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

EDITORIAL COMMENT                                                                                                              PAGE      
     Wanted:  Men and Women Not For Sale ________________________________       3
     The Last Mental Hurricane of 1938 _____________________________________     4
Gentlemen Preferred __________________________________ ROBERT S.  STEELE     5
To B _____________________________Poem___________________ IDA ROSEN    6
A Letter ________________________________________ ANDREW SUTTON, JR.     7
STUDENT OPINIONS OF WAR:
     They'll Hafta Cum an' Git Me ______________________ H. GRADY REAGAN, JR.     8
     War's Accomplishments _________________________ ROBERT CAMPBELL, JR.    8
     Co-operation ________________________________________ GEORGE SMITH     9
     They Forget ______________________Poem_____________ LUCY CARLAND    10
Southern Saying ___________________________________CLARENCE MCCALL     10
Medicines of the North Carolina Mountain People __________ JUDSON EDWARDS     11
Personal History _____________________Poem___________ WILMA DYKEMAN   11
Spring, 1938 ________________________Poem____________ WILMA DYKEMAN  12
POETRY SECTION:
     Smoke Dream ____________________________________ JAMES B. KEITH, JR.   14
     Alone _________________________________________ CHRISTINE PONDER    14
     Retiary _______________________________________ HURLEY MACINTOSH    15
     Of Colors ________________________________________WILMA DYKEMAN   15
     Gold ___________________________________________ JAMES B. KEITH, JR.  16
     Inconsistency ____________________________________ JAMES B. KEITH, JR. 17
     To My Mother ___________________________________ WILMA DYKEMAN    17
     The Sky Trail __________________________________ H. GRADY REAGAN, JR.  18
     Diverse Effects _________________________________________ LEROY LOVE   18
     The Train ___________________________________________ GROVER ALLEN  18
     Dark Dawn ___________________________________________ GLENN SMITH  19
     Moods _________________________________________ CHRISTINE PONDER  19
     Autobiography ___________________________________ WILMA DYKEMAN  19
Mountain Girl ___________________________________ H. GRADY REAGAN, JR.   20
My Model T Ford ______________________________________ JACK SHUFORD   23
Collegiate _____________________________________________ EILEEN SMITH    23
Are You a Fraternity Man? _____________________________ ROBERT S. STEELE    24
Meditation Upon Poe ______________________________________ LEROY LOVE   25
Silver Pitchers ______________________________________ WILMA DYKEMAN   26
God's Morning _____________________________________ HURLEY MCINTOSH   26
My Pet Hate _____________________________________________ RAY  CRANE   27
On An Alarm Clock ________________________________ ANDREW SUTTON, JR.  27
Fame or Obscurity ___________________________________________ JO JONES    28
The Magic of Music ____________________________________ GEORGE SMITH    28
The Advantage of Total Abstinence __________________ ANDREW SUTTON, JR.    30
Escape ___________________________________________ WILMA DYKEMAN    30
Books That Have Influenced Me __________________ RAYMOND RICHARDSON     31
A BROWSE AMONG BOOKS:
     Saul, King of Israel ______________________________________ IDA ROSEN     32
     Northwest Passage _____________________________ ANDREW SUTTON, JR.    32
     Assignment in Utopia ______________________________ WILMA DYKEMAN   33
     Ascaris _______________________________________________ IDA ROSEN    33
Hands Across the Ocean _______________________________ PINKNEY GROVES   34
To _______________________________Poem___________ CHRISTINE PONDER   34
"Mike" Fright __________________________________________ EILEEN SMITH    35
Two Roads There Are ________________Poem____________ WILMA DYKEMAN   35
The Story of a Tree ________________________________ ANDREW SUTTON, JR.  36
Reality ____________________________Poem___________ CLARENCE MCCALL  36
My Aspiration for a Happy and Successful Life __________________ LEROY LOVE    37
Old Clothes Are Like Old Friends ____________________________ EILEEN SMITH   38
With Others ________________________________________ JOHN CARPENTER    39
Sunrise ____________________________________________ BILL MCCONNELL    39
The Story of a Girl ________________________________ ANDREW SUTTON, JR.    40
Classics or Swing? ___________________________________ BILL MCCONNELL     41
Worship ______________________________________ ROBERT CAMPBELL, JR.    41
Dugout __________________________________________ JAMES B. KEITH, JR.    42
Postscript _______________________Poem_____________ WILMA DYKEMAN     43
First Impressions _________________________________ MARGARET STARNES   44
A Song _________________________Poem_____________ CHRISTINE PONDER   44
The Friendly Mountains __________________________ ROBERT CAMPBELL, JR.   45
The Tragedy, Man _______________________________ H. GRADY REAGAN, JR.   45
Zebulon Baird Vance ______________________________________ RAY CRANE    46
That Jew ________________________Poem_________________ GLENN SMITH     47
Rain ____________________________Poem_________________ GLENN SMITH    48

BLUETS

Published by the Students of Biltmore College

____________________________________________________________
Vol. XI                                          may, 1938                                 number 2
_____________________________________________________________________

THE STAFF

BUSINESS MANAGERS                                                                                                                              ASSISTANT EDITORS
HARRY BELK                                                                                                                                                                             PROSE
PINKNEY GROVES, JR.                                                   CO-EDITORS                                                GRADY  REAGAN, JR.
                                                                                                        WILMA DYKEMAN                            ROBERT CAMPBELL, JR.
TYPISTS                                                                                                AND                                                                            POETRY
EILEEN SMITH                                                                      GEORGE  SMITH                                                     IDA ROSEN 
ROBERT CAMPBELL, JR.                                                                                                                                    CHRISTINE PONDER 
                                                                                                                                                                                                      ART EDITOR
FACULTY ADVISER                                                                                                                                              BILL HENDRIX
MISS VIRGINIA BRYAN
                                                                                                                                                                           CIRCULATION MANAGERS
                                                                                                                                                                                          LUCY CARLAND
                                                                                                                                                                                          HURLEY MCINTOSH
________________________________________________________________________________
Editorial Comment

WANTED: MEN AND WOMEN NOT FOR SALE

Dr. Harry Emerson Fosdick recently concluded a brilliant talk with this phrase: "Wanted: men and women not for sale." If there is one temptation that we of this generation must meet, if there is one chal­lenge that we must face, it is the one pre­sented in these seven words.

Wanted, men and women, boys and girls, who will not sell their ideals, their standards, at any price of the dollar mark; who have comprehended the meaning of the statement: "To thine own self be true," and who have the courage to fol­low it through. These are the people the world needs. The man or woman who never lowers his rules for playing the game, whose honest convictions can be bought at no price, is unbounded by pro­fessional and business barriers. Every re­ligious, political, and professional organ­ization needs him, the realm of business needs him. In short, the world needs and wants him.

The pen of Shakespeare never set down a tragedy more awful than that we see about us every day of someone selling his ideals for a position of fame or a sum of money. Every time a person accepts a job that satisfies only his lower instincts, every time he receives a check for doing some task that calls for the sacrifice of a be­lief, he has sold a part of himself. He has sold something that money cannot buy back, and that is entirely lost, for a man's ideals can never belong to anyone but himself.

This is not some idealistic, pretty phrase. It is a powerful force that is really needed. For if we could be men and women that things could not buy, if we would only see that the real and lasting forces of life are those we possess inside of us and that nothing but ourselves can take away, then we would have grasped a fragment of those things that make mortals immortal.

It is so simple and yet so interwined with all of living, it is so easy to grasp and yet so difficult to fulfill: Wanted, men and women not for sale. —W.D.

We sophomores, graduating this year, most of us leaving Biltmore forever, and a great many planning to pursue a higher education at some four-year college, are completing a substantial step in this Great Adventure called Life. Sooner than we think we shall all be spilled into the ocean of life, lost and scattered in every di­rection. We shall have to swim for our­selves, eventually we shall grow old and die—sooner than we believe, looking at it in the dim distance. But time is in­exorable; it shall cut us down one and all. As Arthur Brisbane once wrote, "Time is a sly old man hastening by; he has a forlock but is bald behind, so one must catch him by the forlock or he is gone forever." Forever—that's a long word. Yet every act, every thought is beyond re­call forever. Let us remember that and act accordingly.

Let us think rather of the things to be done.—Each of us has a handful of power infinitely greater than dynamite; that power is called life. Use it sparingly and well, ere it ebbs away.

GENTLEMEN PREFERRED

robert S. steele

Sixty-five years has elapsed since John Henry Newman gave us his definition of a gentleman. His sageness is manifested in his choice of a perennially fresh subject for discourse—those male beings who know what to do and to say at the opportune time—commonly called gentlemen. New-man's definition is truly the epitome of all that has ever been written or said upon the subject: "He is one who never inflicts pain and is mainly occupied in merely re­moving the obstacles which hinder the free and unembarrassed action of those about him." Matthew Arnold's brilliant definition of culture as "sweetness and light," or beauty and intelligence, expounds "the ingredients" of a gentleman also. One of these attributes, alone, fails to produce that which we strive for. Lord Chester­field excelled in the beauty of a gentleman with his polished manners; however, any rule of etiquette may be broken by a per­son with the right feeling for manners and intelligence. Samuel Johnson, a pre­cocious child and a genius, is excluded from the "Honorary Legion of Gentlemen" because he lacked the beauty of a gentle­man. It is the mellowing of the two from which we are rewarded.

Can you name an immodest gentleman? No one else can. Modesty reigns over the voice and gesture. Remember, people often judge you by your choice of neckties, in fact, your whole attire. Someone has said the secret of smartness in dress, which is indispensable to a gentleman, is dressing for the occasion. One word more about the correct thing in dress: the ever-correct Emily Post has well proclaimed that diamonds on men should be conspicuous by their absence. He never talks loudly in public, creates a scene, or calls atten­tion to himself in anyway. Woe to the man who aspires to the affected, blase, and debonair manner to get what he wants. He's playing his part on a stage which impresses about as long as a good movie. Humility is a splendid synonym for modesty; it is to be cultivated also. His conversation is never wearisome because it is individual in its briefness. He never dis­cusses where he's been or where he expects to go if he can avoid it. The test for the modesty of a gentleman is his ability to put up with bad manners.

fore men. Beauty of speech is certainly to be desired for everyone. A high-pitched or guttural voice gives yourself away. With culture the gentleman forsakes many pro­vincialisms and even more colloqualisms.

     In the midst of the war some French soldiers and some of the non-French fighters belonged to an army that supplied rations plentifully. They grabbed their allotments and stood about hastily eating, uninterrupted by conversation or other concern. The French soldiers took their very meager portions of food, improvised a kind of table on the top of a flat rock, and having laid out the rations sat down in comfort and began their meal amid a chatter of talk. One of the non-French soldiers, all of whom had finished their large supply of food before the French had begun eating, asked: "Why do you fellows make such a lot of fuss over the little bit of grub they give you to eat?" The Frenchman replied: "Well, we are making war for civilization, are we not? There­fore, we eat in a civilized way." The im­portance of table manners can not be over­emphasized. To the French we owe the word "etiquette." Lord Chesterfield has said: "Great merit, or great failings, will make you respected or despised; but trifles, little attentions, mere nothings, either done or reflected, will make you either liked or disliked, in the general run of the world." Doubtless, many men have failed to make sufficient impression to obtain their am­bition in this world because they thought it unnecessary to bother with trifles. To believe that politeness implies all give and no return, it is well to recall Coleridge's definition of a gentleman: "We feel the gentlemanly character present with us," he said, "whenever, under all circumstances of social intercourse, the trivial, not less than the important, through the whole detail of his manners and deportment, and with the ease of habit, a person shows respect to others in such a way as at the same time implies, in his own feelings, and habitually, an assured anticipation of re­ciprocal respect from them to himself. In short, the gentlemanly character arises out of the feeling of equality acting as a habit, yet flexible to the varieties of rank, and modified without being disturbed or superseded by them."

North Carolina Division United Daughters of the Confederacy.

Mr. J. Andrew Sutton,

Biltmore College, Asheville, N. C.

My Dear Mr. Sutton:

Some of your acquaintances at Biltmore Junior college have advised me of the fact that you may have had some ancestors. Looking over my records I can not affirm any such claim and I am asking, even demanding that you either furnish proof of these rumors or see that they cease at once.

Possibly you are a descendant of one of the following Suttons recorded in the glory bound annals of the War between the States; however, there is no record showing that you exist. Henry Wallace Sutton, 34th regiment, company G, served three years under General Lee and two years under Major Wirz; promoted to Private, 1st class, June 6, 1864. Andrew "Mellon" Sutton was Quartermaster for the 3rd regiment, Light Cavalry of the Mississippi Pfherdsteiler. He was award­ed his nickname because of the way in which he could direct raids on the post­war plantations. John Henry Sutton served gloriously as valet for Colonel Wade Hampton throughout the war. He held an honorary captaincy in the United-we-run-negro volunteers. James Legree Sutton furnished the bloodhounds which were utilized in the riverside extinction of Uncle Tom and Eliza. There is only a slight possibility that you are his descendent, judging from his alleged mistreat­ment of his dogs. Jonathan Warwick Sutton of Stokes county, 35th regiment, strug­gled throughout the conflict to furnish the officers' mess with palatable two-weeks' corn. He was wounded and relieved from active duty when his boiler exploded dur­ing a rush hour. Three of his fellow officers were stewed at the scene of the accident; the rest were pickled. General Andrew Sutton served with valor as head of the Georgia Mot heaters and honorary Major of the Toro S. S. (sharp-shooters, of course). He was honorably discharged at the end of four years, but unfortunate­ly, like Stonewall Jackson, was shot by his own men on a hunting trip when they mistook him for an open-season male jigger.

THEY'LL HAFTA CUM AN GIT ME

H. grady reagan, jr.

Wal now foks Im gist a pore mountn boy an I aint had much skoolin but wen that air sity feller cum out heer and asks me wut I thpt bout this heer war bisness an wud I go tu war if thur wiis wun an mi cuntry wanted me to fite I ups and tells film gist wut I thinks about it

    Now War is gist lik a feud a passel uv men gos out and fites an kits wun anuther without noin wut they is a fitin bout Now Ive made mi shar uv corn likker an I aint got no likin fer revnooers an thu law an Id gist as soon shoot wun uv them as anythin cus theyre cumin atter me but I aint got no hankerin tu go out an shoot people gist cause sumbody in Wash­ington says they air enemis uv democrasy or suinthin lik that

Sumbody tol me how all them soljers marched round all day in thu mud wile they wus in that plase called Franse an carried great big paks round with them lorig with a big hevy rifle Now I dont min thu marchin cus Ive walked all over thes mountns wun tim or nuther but I didn't carry nuthin but mi ol squirl rifel an skinnin nife an thur wusnt no riiud her nuthin an I dont hav no hankerin to go tu Franse ner anywhur way frum these heer mbuntns anyways   

WAR'S ACCOMPLISHMENTS robert campbell, jr.

One of the principal arguments we hear today against war is the assertion that war never accomplished anything, citing the World War as an example. I do not attempt to deny that the World War ac­complished nothing, that we are back where we started from in 1914, and that history is repeating and will repeat itself. But I do say that wars have accomplished much for the United States. Every major conflict in which the United States has been involved, with the probable excep­tion of the World War, has accomplished much.

anyone dare to say that we would be bet­ter off under Britain's rule than as a free and independent nation?

The War of 1812, with Great Britain, established, once and for all, the freedom of the seas, a principle which has not been denied since that time. Has not the whole world benefited from that war?

And then the Civil War, bloody as it was, terrible as the Reconstruction Days were for the South, welded us together as a truly united nation. As Edward Everett Hale said in The Man Without a Country, "Out of this conflict has come the greatest union ever known to man­kind." Could this have been accomplished by compromise, or, taking into considera­tion human weaknesses, by anything less than war?

Next we come to the Spanish-Ameri­can War, which, although a less im­portant conflict, still has its accom­plishments. Are not the Philippines Islands, Cuba, and other countries ceded

to the United States following the con­flict far better off than they were under Spanish rule? Yes, this war again proved that wars can and do accomplish great things.

I would not for a moment say that we should have a war now because it might accomplish something great. It may be that we have reached a stage in our civil­ization where wars will accomplish noth­ing. But let us not condemn all wars in our fervent desire for peace; instead, let us remember that all those who have given their lives for their country have not died in vain. And let us hope and pray that those who fought in the Great War to "make the world safe for de­mocracy" shall not have died in vain, re­membering the words of John McRae:

"If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields."

CO-OPERATION
george smith

Human beings are so silly—and yet in some ways at times wise. We continually occupy ourselves in wars, strife, and all sorts of petty quarrels; instead of this why can't we co-operate — make one grand human army, an army for pro­gress ?
 

A magnificent building can be con­structed in an astonishingly short time through the co-operative efforts of the workers—each does his special job accord­ing to the architect's plan. Now suppose each worker had a different plan—a good one perhaps — but decidedly different. Suddenly, instead of good-will and steady, progressive co-operation culminating in the swift erection of a beautiful edifice, we see strife and chaos; each laborer at­tempts to construct his building on the chosen spot, tearing down the work of another either to make room for his own or because of jealousy. The ultimate re­sult of this competition is inevitable; many will be slain and the remaining few will be able to erect only crude, ugly lit­tle huts to house their broken bones. Time, wealth, lives, and human happiness have been spent—to achieve what? Noth­ing. Nothing but waste and desolation.

All, alas, because of the lack of a plan! This is the present world situation. Es­sentially, the interests of all mankind are in the same general direction. So why don't we get together and each nation sac­rifice a little—why not get a world-wide plan? Then we could raise a splendid shining tower of human civilization in­stead of the present little group of huts. This wonder would probably not suit ex­actly the individualistic plans and desires of any nation, but it would certainly come nearer them than the hodge-podge of shacks we now have. And it would result in a saving of wealth, time, human lives, and happiness.

THEY FORGET

Not long ago we went away—

To stay—
We went away from all we loved

and yet
They've   forgotten   us   whom   they

could not forget.

Yes, they've forgotten, but when we went
     they bent
Their heads in grief and promised us
     a lot
Of things they never meant—for
     they forgot—

They set aside a special day—
     to pay
A   tribute—to   us  who   left   them   safe
     at home
And went away to die—across
     the foam

We left our homes to do or die—
     but why
Should we have given up the best
     we had
To be forgotten by those who were
     so sad?

They were sad and wept a little then—
     but when
We had been gone a while—their pain
     was eased
While ours racked on and killed us
     overseas.

They lived on, thoughtless and free—
     while we
Are left to rot beneath a cross
     of white,
They just forgot —we fought to give
     them light.

Yes, that is all, they just forgot
     the lot 
Of us who died that they might live
     to let
Another bunch like us be killed—
     and then forget.

SOUTHERN SAYING

Graveyard   folks  won't   hurt  you,   but they'll make you hurt yourself.

—clarence mcCall

MEDICINES    OF    THE    NORTH CAROLINA   MOUNTAIN   PEOPLE

judson edwards

Persons who have lived their lives in cities, where physicians, offices, and hos­pitals are considered as common and nec­essary things, find it hard to realize that in the mountains there are generations of people who are born, live their lives, and die without the aid of a physician. These mountain people are entirely self-reliant, depending on their knowledge of health-giving herbs to cure their ills.

These medicines, having been used for centuries, are handed down from one gen­eration to another. Old women, who have had much experience in caring for the sick, usually prepare and administer these remedies. When applied steadily and cor­rectly, these medicines are usually found to be very effective.

Some of the remedies used for the more common illnesses are: Butterfly-root tea, or honesit tea, given hot will cure pneu­monia. Bark from the wild cucumber tree soaked in whiskey is good for liver trou­bles. For sore, irritated throat gargle with tea made from bark of the persimmon tree, with alum and strained honey add-ed. Tea made from horse-radish, vinegar, and honey is good for hoarseness. Sassa­fras tea, or sulphur and molasses, is a good spring tonic.

PERSONAL HISTORY

Three things there are that I cant com­       prehend:
Men, fractions, and a treacherous friend.

Three things there be that I'll never do:
Eat carrots, swear, and marry you.

Three   things   there   aren't   that   I   wish

might be:
More beauty, more money, your love for me.

—wilma dykeman.

SPRING,   1938

Oh God, Thou hast made too beautiful a
Spring,
In all the world around me is no imper­
fect thing,

My very heart must leap, burst forth, the
song that it would sing.

I would crush all that  Thou  hast  made
     unto this breast of mine,
And   have   it   breathe   into   my   soul   the
     spark of Life divine,
Until the glory of this Spring should be
     forever mine.

Oh   God,  why   hast   Thou   poured  forth
      from Thy Heavenly portal
Such beauty to inspire and hurt, and made
     me only mortal,
That  I   can   never  show   the   world   the
     loveliness Immortal?

—wilma dykeman.

SMOKE  DREAMS

From an aged amber brier comes a smoke
     of hazy blue,
Mixing dreams of far tomorrows with the
     things we used to do.
There are nights we spent together by the
     black and still lagoon,
Where   the   starlets   twinkled  gayly,   and
     the silver of the moon
Played  across   the   silent   waters,   mixing
     silver with  the trees,
With  the tall and