"THEREFORE, WE OF THE AFFIRMATIVE HAVE PROVED." ROLAND ANDERSON TELLS THEM. EVEN THOUGH JUNIOR BLAIR ISN'T SO SURE. "THERE CAN BE NO OTHER SOLUTION," HERBERT WIESE PRACTICES. RALPH KUECHLER, DELORE WILLIAMS, ROLAND ANDERSON AND JUNIOR BLAIR SEEM IMPRESSED. Subjects IN Debate VICTIMS of war restrictions and rationing, the debaters made only three trips-Salt Lake, Logan, and McMinnville, Oregon. Arguing world union the teams got as far as the semi-finals. Frank Wahlquist reached the finals in extemp. But the trophies aren't the only part of the contests. To Junior Blair and Roland Anderson there are memories of the Oregon "climate." DeLore Williams and John Rackham shared one seat in the train eventually, although they had begun with two. Herbert Wiese and Frank Wahlquist have stones of hotel-shortages to tell. Mr. Leland H. Monson, head of the English Department, instructed the boys in debate technique until each one was sure that he would be an orator, if not a debator. The trips to Salt Lake and Logan were successful trial or practice debates which proves to some extent the opinion the boys have of world union and themselves. IN CLASS THE DEBATORS INFORMALLY COMPARE NOTES, LEFT TO RIGHT: RALPH KUECHLER, JUNIOR BLAIR, DELORE WILLIAMS, CONNELL ROBERTS, HERBERT WIESE, FRANK WAHLQUIST. "MR. CHAIRMAN," DELORE WILLIAMS BEGINS, AND HERBERT WIESE, WHO HASN'T SPOKEN YET, IS CONFIDENT. TWO POEMS ALONE No one is here: Only six teacups gaping in their row, The ruffled curtains moving to and fro, And silence is a drop of water hung An instant from the pitcher's lip, the tongue Idly swinging in the empty head Of an old clock; a blank pane red With the low sun, and down the walks A wind stirs, the blue four o'clocks No one is here. EXCHANGE I'll hang my heart on a hickory tree For jays to nest in, or else plant it deep And let it grow to wild goat-beards of rye And I must find to wear in place of it A cool kingfishers feather that has lain Quiet so long it is the color of sleep. I shall walk lighter then, no doubt of that, And next year when the sensitive spring thoughts Run on their little fox feet in the rain, Maybe I will remember you and laugh. Joan Allred. 15