The Trinity Review, May 1941
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Trinity College Trinity College Digital Repository Trinity Publications (Newspapers, Yearbooks, Trinity Review (1939 - 1980) Catalogs, etc.) 5-1-1941 The Trinity Review, May 1941 Trinity College Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalrepository.trincoll.edu/review Recommended Citation Trinity College, "The Trinity Review, May 1941 " (1941). Trinity Review (1939 - 1980). 6. https://digitalrepository.trincoll.edu/review/6 This Article is brought to you for free and open access by the Trinity Publications (Newspapers, Yearbooks, Catalogs, etc.) at Trinity College Digital Repository. It has been accepted for inclusion in Trinity Review (1939 - 1980) by an authorized administrator of Trinity College Digital Repository. ~ I"'T CCL ,.; · r-: :!' • ..:..; t.:..: • v ~ o· I MAY 2 ·~ 1941 wrr l1l !l ~ riJ! w TRINITY COLLEGE HARTFORD MAY • 1941 VoL. III ---- No.2 Vinum Daemonum THE TRINITY REVIEW PuBLISHED TwicE A YEAR BY THE TRINITY LITERARY CLUB VoL. III MAY. 1941 No.2 EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Marshall Nead, '41 AssociATE EmToR Charles B. Goodrich, '41 EDITORIAL BoARD Raymond Cunningham, Jr., '43 Roderick J. Murray, '42 William B. Dexter, '41 Ernest N. Dickinson, '41 John W. Harris, '41 George Tracy, '43 H. Stanley Knowles, '43 William B. VanWyck, '41 ELECTIONS The following members of the Board were recently elected to the offices designated: EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: H. STANLEY KNOWLES, '43 AssociATE EDITOR: RAYMOND CUNNINGHAM, JR., '43 -THE EDITOR [4] TABLE OF CONTENTS Page Frontispiece Elections 4 Preface- MoRsE ALLEN 6 Editorial 7 Initiation- ERNEST N. DicKINSON, '41 and PRoSPERO DEBONA, '41 8 Totalitarianism in the Cosmos- RAYMOND CuNNINGHAM, JR., '43 23 The Mongoose of Shalott- JoHN K. BLAKE, '42 33 The Beggar- WILLIAM E. HowARD, '41 36 Spring Song- DANIEL F. NoRTH, '41 40 Wanderings-RALPH S. GRoVER, '41 41 Shadows-DANIEL F. NoRTH, '41 42 Melita and the Rose- }AMES MuRRAY, '43 43 George Wilson, American- JosEPH W. HoTCHKiss, '42 54 Freedom from the Press- ]Ac A. CusHMAN, '42 56 Meet Jacobus Smyth, Trinity, '52- FRANC LADNER, '42 58 [5] PREFACE Off on the horizon a thunderstorm had been muttering darkly, and now it was on the horizon no longer, but close at hand. Overhead the sky was unquar ried slate. One of the heart-shaped lilac leaves quivered at the pat of a first drop. Into that tense cold quietness an oriole suddenly let loose a broken spiral of song, and then a plump robin on the lawn slanted its head and replied jauntily if prosaically and rather wormily. Of course it might be that the sky would fall, but then again it might not. There had been tempests before now. And even if this were the Day of Doom (and it sounded like it, that time!) the birds would sing right through the eleventh hour, because they were youth and the season was spring. Morse Allen [6] EDITORIAL The TRINITY REVIEW is now three years old. Started as an experiment here at Trinity, its various boards have learned much in these brief years both as to the type of magazine desired by the students and the type of material available for publication. Although when founded the stated purpose of the magazine was to present an opportunity for the expression of creative writing, the object of the magazine is obviously two fold. First of all, it must and should please the readers who make its existence possible. Secondly, it has an obligation to fulfill to those who turn in manuscripts. Thus in the past a variety of material has been presented which it was believed would be of general interest; but any work of special interest to some one group in the college has not been barred from publication when the merits of that work have been adequately estimated and confirmed. With this idea in mind the maga zine has more than once published Latin poetry, realizing fully that this would not appeal to all readers, but, being work of exceptional note, would be deeply appreciated by those understanding it. Our gratitude to all who, in many ways make the REVIEW possible, is strong as is our faith in the worth of our task. It is thus that the Board hopes to interest all students, or as many as possible, in contributing manuscripts to the magazine, and in reading the publication. Welcoming criticism at all times, we go on with our experimental project, hoping that one day it will become as solid and deeply-rooted as the ever rising elms which line our campus. [7] INITIATION Ernest N. Dickinson} }41 and Prospera DeBona, }41 In the hallway Upton Bruce Delaney spoke to the girl at the reception desk. "I believe Miss Gale Russell is expecting me," he murmured. His offhand tone caused the girl to raise her eyebrows. "Will you wait in the lounge, please?" Upton nodded and stepped into the next room. As he looked about him and saw that the room was empty, he relaxed his shoulders. It was a large room, Stafford Lounge, one of the biggest in the school. Stained oak panels and portraits of austere patrons of Gary College for Women decorated the walls. Green divans and over-stuffed chairs were scattered about the room; and a large mirror framed with golden nymphs hung at the further end. When Upton caught sight of the mirror, he walked towards it. In front of it he stopped and stared doggedly at his own image. He jerked his shoulders erect and waggled his already straight tie. He smiled, frowned, then smiled again- the second time more assuredly. Slim and not very tall, Upton had slick dark hair, exactly parted on the left. His face was thin, at the present time rather white. One's attention was drawn immediately to his unusually large, glistening eyes. His eyes were very large. They didn't bulge, but they were large. And whenever Upton felt self-conscious he squinted in an attempt to make them look smaller. He squinted once or twice now before he re treated to a green chair in the corner. Leaning back in the chair he crossed his legs and glanced nervously at his wrist watch. [8] Now, more vividly than ever, he recalled that evening a week ago when he had met Gale. It had been backstage after his performance as Cyrano de Bergerac. Three and a half years of persistent labor in the Randolph College Dramatic Club, and that night Upton had reached the climax of his college career as an actor. The most conclusive proof of his personal triumph was the fact that she, Gale Russell, had come backstage to congratulate him. He was talking to Doc Prentice, who had directed the production, when he felt a soft, firm hand on his shoulder, a hand that compelled him to turn around. "You were wonderful, Mr. Delaney," she had said, gazing at him. "You were wonderful." As soon as he saw the tall, dark, goddess-like creature that stood before him, the muscles of his throat tightened. His make-up concealed a blush of embarrassment. "You know, I'm something of a drama student, myself," she had said. "We really have a lot in common. Perhaps we shall get together sometime, don't you think?" Before Upton could collect himself to stammer out a reply, he saw her back disappearing through the door. And then three nights ago she had telephoned. It had been a blitzkrieg. Gale proposed the date and set the time with only a few grunts of dazed acknowledgement from Upton. The thing came so fast. And Upton was not used to coping with things that came fast. By the time he had reached his room after the phone call his heart was struck with panic. Upton was by nature a recluse. His social contacts through the dramatics club had little affected his naturally reticent temperament. He walked into the room absorbed in the growing realization that he, Upton Bruce Delaney, had a date with the most sought-after woman at neighboring Gary College. There had been four fellows seated around a bridge table in his room. "Hi, fellows," he said. But they didn't hear him. [ 9 ] "Fellows," he said weakly. "You know what? -I got a date." The four boys looked up. "Yeah," he said. "I got a date with Gale Russell." For a minute no one spoke. Then one of the boys snickered. Harry, his roommate, nodding his tousled, red head, winked at his partner. "Sure," he said, "I got to meet Hedy Lamarr down at the drug store in ten minutes." As they went on about their game, Upton walked over to the bridge table and flipped through the extra deck of cards. "No kidding. She just called me up and made a date for next Saturday night." One of the fellows told him to keep quiet, he couldn't con centrate; but his roommate laid down his cards and looked at Upton closely. "Wait a minute, boys," he said. "Hey, Uppie you're really fooling, aren't you?" "No," said Upton, "I'm not." Harry whistled in amazement. Again no one spoke. Then one of the boys said, "Quit your kidding, U ppie." "I swear I'm not kidding," he had said. And somehow the look of desperation in his large eyes bore out the truth of his words. Upton had actually intended to call her back, to tell her that he was sorry but wouldn't be able to make it. But the boys had goaded him into keeping the date. "Why you wouldn't know what to do with a woman like that!" they had said. And- "Gonna flash those baby-blue eyes at her, Uppie ?" "Upton Delaney - gone with the Gale!" "My God! She's lookin' for a man, Uppie, a man." The boys had infuriated him.