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
