The Nebraskan. (Lincoln, Neb.) 1892-1899, December 20, 1894, Page 11, Image 11

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vncntion, Shu borrowed pencil ;nd paper in a frenzy
of excitement.
" Mary, O Mary, do not delay an instant," she wrote,
M For heaven's sake try to remember and tell me some
thing about the fissure' of Rolando! llow would it lie
in relation to a perpendicular let fall from the hypoph
ysis on a diagonal connecting the corpus dentatum
of the cerebum with the superior frontal convolution
of the left hemisphere?"
Hy a supreme effort of will she fixed her attention
on the stage till she received an answer this answer:
"Why should any sane person ask such a question
on Christmas day? This is vacation. I lave you lost
your sense? I'd tell you if I could, but I forgot such
lunacy the day after 1 got notice that I passed."
She tore this up and scattered it in microscopic bits
on the floor of the theatre. Then she raised her hand
to her tired head, passed it over her throbbing fore
head, then dropped it and took out her watch. In one
hour a train would start for Lincoln.
It was but the beginning of the second act, but she
rose and walked wearily and with pale face down the
aisle to the door.
Her Christmas day was blighted, but at least the
coming night should be void of misery. She tore her
self from family and friends, from vacation, from
Christmas. She walked, exhausted but firm, to the de
pot, armed with baggage, and with tape-line, compass,
and ruler. On reaching Lincoln she would still have
time to seek the laboratory, ami, in prosecuting inves
tigations on that papier-mache skull, find that relief
for which all day she had been vainly seeking.
She had passed the most miserable Christmas of her
life, but the misery of that dreary day should not be
prolonged into a dreary morrow.
If any one cares to sec the great engine begin to
puff, he must be on hand something before eight
o'clock in the morning. Great and small, prep and
senior alike, may be seen making their way up the
campus if indeed they arc fortunate enough to get in
side that abominable penitentiary fence to the places
where the engines of torture are deposited.
The prep trudges along under the weight of a
dozen books; just behind comes the soph with two or
three books, and not appearing particularly happy over
the prospects of a cane rush in mathematics for the
third hour. Juniors and seniors don't appear so early
on the scene about eleven o'clock is the time they
come along serene and proud, having no books visi
ble. What do they need of books? Of course the
juniors need books badly enough, but they have to do
as seniors do!
The halls are crowded, yes, jammed full, so full that
if anywhere along the line any one stops to speak to
his neighbor, the whole mass must stop while he says,
'Good morning, have you seen her yet to-day?" Very
important, no doubt, so we pass it by and hope he saw
her the same day.
Then the fire bell rings and on the mob rushes, or
tries to rush, each one pushing the other. If students
were not the most amiable animals alive, more than
forty would daily be carried out, till further notice, for
not attending to business.
We'll not follow the students to class, but while they
instruct their several professors in a few particulars,
shall we jam in the library door and see how many un
fortunates we can prostrate in so doing?
There! only one, and that a boy, too! How unfortu
nate. Well, he'll recover.
The prep sits meekly in one corner with folded
hands waiting for the next hour to come. It seems
that when he plowed his way through the foaming,
seething mass in the halls he was too late for class and
dared not go in. Waiting, did I say? Yes, in fear
and trembling for there comes the Librarian.
" Now, sonny, are you using a library book? If not,
why not? Haven't you read the signs? Better re
move yourself at once."
" P-pl-pleasc, ma'am, wh-which sign? I've read
about fifty."
And then the bewildered young one staggers out
past the signs
" Put books on the return shehes."
41 Do not return the books to the shelve0.; leave them
on the tables."
" Chairs only for those using library books "
"Well," muses the boy, "Aren't these books of mine
library books? I swiped ' them from here, any how.
I had to if I got a-hold of 'em."
The senior lazily reads the magazines, feeling pretty
gay because he took psychology last year and don't
have to study any more. Now he can spend his time
wondering about the senior cans and gowns and trying
to get some girl to get one who doesn't want to. Hy
and by the senior gets up and climbs on a chair and
gets a book down off the top shelf and stalks off up
to freshman history, which he elected for a "snap," as
he said. In he goes, looks wise, won't smile when the
prof makes jokes.
Surely you think he ought to be more discreet than
that, but no, the brazen image doesn't smile to-day; he
longs for home and mother; the jokes arc bad.
Whatever docs he care about that everlasting wall
about the Greek camp, or whether Zeus forgot the
dream of Agamemnon, which same dream came not
because of Zeus at all, but because of disappointment
over the loss of a girl. Then, again, the senior con
cludes in his own superior way that it is a precious
good thing that the best authorities have decided that
Homer never lived. For, thinks he, after this pVo
longcd and tiresome discussion his bones would have
been ground to powder.
Somewhat later the fire bell rings again and the mob
surges into the chapel, most reverently, of course, with
little needless talk and commotion. But the standard
of reverence is too high still and the chief executive
is obliged to frown on the people in the back row who
talk for a living.
This gabble-gabble continues throughout the service
as far as has been noticed in the two years we have
been here, and when the conductor makes a stereotyped
ending to his prayer, as he approaches the end, the
gallery leap to their feet to a man, slam their scats up,
and scatter as though their lives depended on it. The
only marvel is that they pay enough attention to know
when the prayer is nearly done.
A choice selection of the University intellect spend
their leisure moment in the classical alcvoc and once in
a while each year they arc regaled with those same
old jokes coming from the Latin department.
One time and one time only during the day arc the
halls devoid of gossipcrs, bulletin readers, or fratarnity
organizers that time is noon; students have one com
mon feeling hunger.
Let us retire now while the old hall is peaceful.