THE HESPERIAN
13
But the minister, as ho looked from the
hard, toil-worn faces of the women before
him to the gentle, peaceful face in the coffin
could not speak as was his wont of the hard
ness of death. The beauty and tenderness
of it touched him as never before and made
him silent.
The sunshine fell gently through the open
window; it touched the rough, hard hands
clasped tightly on the backs of the pews,
touched them as a pitying angel. On the
breast of the woman who was sleeping lay
the white still hands that had done their
labor, and on them too the sun was shining.
Floka Bullook.
AN ACKNOWLEDGEMENT.
To the class of '95: Seldom has such
honor as the dedication of your beautiful An
nual to , me, come upon anyone more unex
pectedly, and never was recipient more
proud.
One cannot have too many friends, and
such assurance that I may add to my already
long list of those who have boon members of
the student body of the University of Ne
braska, the largo class of '95, is peculiarly
gratifying, just at this time, and I cannot
find words to express my appreciation of the
kindness you have thus shown me, but I
can say from a full heart, "I thank you."
Sincerely, Ellen Smith.
'88. Died, June 3, 1894, at York, Neb.,
Mrs. Alma Benedict Codding. Mrs. and
Mr. Codding returned from Africa several
months ago, hoping that a return to a North
ern climate would benefit her health. But
a few days before her death symptoms of the
deadly African fever again assorted them
selves. Mrs. Codding leaves a husband and
child. Her death, as her life, was for the
faith which was so much to her. During
her University life she was popular both as
a btudent and companion. Her name is hold
in honor by all those who knew her here.
After her graduation she gave her life and
all its aspirations entirely and fully to the
work she beloivod to be her mission. In a
far countiy amid dangers and discomforts
innumerable, she gave her life to her faith.
Shortly after her return to her home, she
died for it. And who loses his life shall
save it.
WASTE-BASKET WfJIFS.
EVERYTHING that belongs to a Senior
ought to be pitied; his Profs, his hat, his
pocket-book and the girl ho dances with at
the Senior promenade. But the most piti
able of all his belongings is his father. The
Senior has a largo and valuable collection of
autographs of his paternal sire, all of which
cost the old gentleman fifty or a hundred
dollars apeice. Writing checks is a more
expensive occupation oven than writing
poems that don't sell. If practice makes
perfect the Senior's father ought to write
cheens in true copy-book style. On the
whole it is not a signature to bo ashamed of.
It may not be written on a sheep skin, or on
the title page of a learned book, but it is a
signature that has helped the Senior out of a
groat many scrapes, and ho will do well if
his own is as much respected.
JT is strange there are so few students
here, whore can they all be? The stud
ents don't turn out worth a cent at this Uni
versity, murmured One High in Authority as
he glanced over the big crowd assembled in
M street Park on drill day. "They don't
turn out?" No, and they never will so long
as twenty-five courses are required, and
marks are supposed to moan culture and ex
amination to represent the last judgment.
The University of Nebraska has modern ap
paratus in' its laboratories, modern books in
its libraries, modern men a few in its
professional high chairs, but its spirit is
antediluvian. We have shouted about col
logo spirit hero for years, but I begin to
think we lack more than that. What we
most need is nineteenth century, 1894 spirit.
The University has never yet got on to the
idea that experiences mean more than facts,
that enthusiasm is more precious than stud
ious habits. The University advises one
standard and onforces another. It has no
right to grind pedantic bores out into the
population of the state. If it can't send
warm-blooded individuals out into society,
it had better start a department for educating
