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About The Hesperian / (Lincoln, Neb.) 1885-1899 | View Entire Issue (April 26, 1895)
THE HESPEKIAN SOLD AT AUCTION. THE GRADUATE. "Coin", gone." It cam't be so. Why, 1 jest cain't let it be! All the faces and the buyin' And the dogs, and babies cryin'. Sale a crcepin' on. Jest an old tired man, 1 know That a voice comes up t' me, "Goin', goin' gone." Goin', the old farm, the farm Where us children played, and where Mother lived and worked and died, Where she kissed us when we cried, She and she alone Used t' rest me with her arm; I could sob my failures there Till the sting was gone. Goin', her cool, shady nook Where she used t' rest and plan. Coin,' her old maple tree Where us children used t' be When the evening conic Goin,' our clear little brook, Where the pasture lot began. "Goin', goin' gone." I was just a baby then When we come; I saw no more Than a wide, wide reach of sky And the leaves a dancin' high In the mornin' sun. Hut today I'm old. And men Tell me and I knew before "Goin', goin' gone." Gone; she went a life ago, Years and years, and years and years! Goin', home will go tomorrow. Goin' everything but sorrow, That and tears stay on. Goin', angels only know Where they go the tears Not till life isgone. Annjb Pkkv. )J Lewis Pont, national lecturer for tlio Sin gle Tax club, will lecture before the Politi cal Economy club on the evening of May 2d, in the chapel. Subject: "The Single Tax." Mr. Post is an able and interesting speaker and will bo well worth hearing. Ho admisfv'jn. lie was never very well, Joe wasn't. His mother didn't want him to go away to school but he had studied so hard at home and had talked so much about going and had well he was her only boy. How could she say "no?" And so he went. The first year passed. The second. The third, and now it was the fourth the last year. Ah, yes the last year. He was about to graduate. Spring came. The blossomed trees near the house breathed their Easter sweetness in at the open windows. A timid breeze gently stirred the curtains to and fro. On a chair by the bedside with its spoons and its glasses and bottles was a rose with a handful of violets. A little girl had brought them, a little girl he had told many and many a story to and who brought them, as she said, because before her little brother died ho liked them bettor "to any flowers." The good old landlady had watched over him for weeks. His friends had boon about him during the day and ho had rested well, so now as evening stole on with still no change visible in him they had departed. But gradually his fever became worse and he began to speak doliriously. . "No, don't, Frank," lie said in a strong voice. "Don't write to her. Mother's got enough to worry over." It was what ho had said awake and sleeping, over since ho became sick, "If the doe don't Jiave mo out in a day or two I'll have to kill him off, I guess. Kor heavens sake! 1 can't afford to lay around here. 01' prof, till climb my frame 'f 1 don't get my histry paper done." The good woman bent over him, smoothed back his curls and kissed his burning fore hood. Ho lookod so much like her boy who was drowned, she had often said that ho was very doar to her. "How are his exams, anyhow ?" ho askod, "Purdy tough, ant they? Dang! I would hoto to flunk in Greek." Then ho was silent a moment while ho twirled his hands and pulled at the bed clothes. "Bo still, can't you?" he went on after a a t .1 Si ! )i