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About The Hesperian / (Lincoln, Neb.) 1885-1899 | View Entire Issue (June 8, 1893)
ant said: "You will place that man under
arrest." The Corporal turned on the guard
with flashing oye; but he restrained himself
and said with forced composure, "Gohtlo
mon, I submit; it is for honor."
"Alt's fair in love and war."
For a long time the Corporal had been
sitting in silence; but as the appointed hour
grew near he became restless. "Five min
utes to nine !" perhaps she was casting a last
look into the mirror. The Corporal moved
uneasily. "Nine o'clock." She was hur
rying down the street. The Corporal sav
agely bit his cigarette. "Five past nine."
She was looking anxiously towards camp
and wondering why he did not come. lie
could bear it no longer. lie stole past the
sleeping guards, out over the picket line and
As ho hurried to the appointed place he
glanced into the ice cream parlor. "What
vision of horror met his gaze? Was it true?
Could it be ? Yes, there, seated at a table
he beheld the commandant and Miss De-
Smythe. He leaned forward with laboring
breath, and of the snatches of laughter and
conversation caught but a single phrase.
The commandant cast an unmistakable look
at Miss DeSmythe and the Corporal heard
him murmur softly: "'When hair is long and
dark like yours." The Corporal broke into
a fierce laugh and muttered: "Dark hair; ha,
ha. It was yellow hair yesterday, short
yellow hair that curled; and it is dark hair
today; it will be red hair tomorrow. Oh
thou villainous commandant, breaker of
hearts and insulter of corporals, from thy
kaleidoscopic hair collection, what color is
there absent? Ha, ha; maybe I could tell
Miss DeSmythe a few things. Perhaps I
may see her tomorrow. No no, it shall not
be. On the one hand was a heart that beat
with unswerving constancy, on the other a
sword and yellow stripes! She has chosen;
it is over."
Scarce knowing what ho did, the Corporal
dragged himself back to camp. Mechan
ically he threw himself on his bunk. The
sigh that escapod him rousod the guard who
sleepily murmured: "Prisoner there?"
"Prisoner? Ay, prisoner indeed! Captive
to both Ares and Eros."
The Evolution of the Senior.
Man, proud man,
Drest in a little brief authority.
There aro persons in this world, who are
worthy of higher places than queens and
emperors. These mighty beings aro not of
celestial nature, but are of the earth earthy.
They are formed from dust, and during life
they raise a dust, and after death return to
dust. Their number is legion, their name is
I'd as leave be a senior, blooming and gay,
As follow the queen on the king's highway
said a poet long since unknown to fame and
name. This intellectual poet was a true
student of human nature, and in two lines
of compact rhyme condensed the longest and
most gaseous of history. He affirms that
he would rather bo a senior than serve the
queen. Now, what charm may he have
found in this name that could make him
prefer its enveloping folds to substantial ad
vancement. He says the secret lies in this.
The senior lives in a world of his own, a
veritable little kingdom. He has his flunk
ies, his inferiors, and servants. His life is
a self-elevation, a journey "ad astra." Who
would not bo a "lord of humankind" when
opportunity olfers ?
From what depths of unfathomable ignor
ance have these beings sprung, and to what
stars do they soar ? To properly appreci
ate the former, make a comparison. Re
construct in the mind, the lank, green, fool
ish specimen of perambulating humanity
which sidled into the university halls and
had the audacity to become a Freshman.
Picture to the mind's oye, his sheepish look,
and note his inclination to do wall flower
service; mark how he could scarcely say
"yes, sir" and "no, sir" to a question; and
when all this has been re-formed before the
mental vision, set the imaginaiion into play.
Count the number of acts which this strange
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