Carolina magazine [serial] . ment of Tom Mooney, theamazing mass of striking Chicago school teachers,and best of all, the thousands of voters who haverecently used their inalienable long-forgotten fran-chise to rid themselves of lecherous bosses. The pleas of the playwrights who titled theirefforts of a few years ago, Sweet Land of Lib-erty, Wake Uf, America, and Hail, Votersare being answered. The ragged, threadbare musicof patriotism is finally cutting the air again. Butnow it is blended with strains that speak of cour-age, individuality, and common purpose. Bad mu-sic as it is, The Star-Sfa


Carolina magazine [serial] . ment of Tom Mooney, theamazing mass of striking Chicago school teachers,and best of all, the thousands of voters who haverecently used their inalienable long-forgotten fran-chise to rid themselves of lecherous bosses. The pleas of the playwrights who titled theirefforts of a few years ago, Sweet Land of Lib-erty, Wake Uf, America, and Hail, Votersare being answered. The ragged, threadbare musicof patriotism is finally cutting the air again. Butnow it is blended with strains that speak of cour-age, individuality, and common purpose. Bad mu-sic as it is, The Star-Sfangled Banner can be heardwith a certain pride, since, for the first time indecades, it means something more than a mere sa-lute accompanied by a covert tongue in the cheekor a none-too-well restrained sneer. This new music, these new airs that issue fromthe pipe organ that is the United States—what arethey? Truthfully, they are not new. Back, backinto the pages of history one can go to find the sen-(Continued on fage four). Yellow Sheet Give me your hands, if we be friends. Doomsday By Virgil Jackson Lee, Jr. IT IS THE YEAR 999 The day is thethirty-first of a small, austere, cell-like room in the backpart of a great cathedral in London sits a is gazing steadfastly at the little patch of skyvisible through the single window above his sunlight falls upon his set face with an almostcaressing touch; his red, chilled hands are claspedtightly together in the act of prayer. His attitudeis one of intense supplication. Ever and again hislips move slightly; he breathes heavily as if suf-fering some physical pain. At length, he sighs deep-ly, shivers, and relaxes upon his stool. Oh why should I be thus, he exclaims, raisinghis hands to heaven. Oh God, I have prayed con-stantly to be relieved of these oppressive doubts—and still they remain, even to the very day of ThyComing! Then with an expression of bewilderment:God made me and, being all-knowing,


Size: 1340px × 1865px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No

Keywords: ., bookauthoruniversi, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookyear1921