Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The Hesperian / (Lincoln, Neb.) 1885-1899 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 18, 1895)
Now do yon suppose that the little girls
had nothing at Jill to do? They "were the
bandits1 wives. The piled 3ry brush under
the battered tin cauldron, And sprinkled salt
in the boiling water. They spread a white
cloth in the shade of the willow trees.
The meat was thrown in the pot. The
bandits washed their bloody hands, then
threw themselves on the grass.
"'Ain't they done yet, Katie?" roared
the true assassin. "Bring 'era on!"
Oh the hungry bandits and their little
cooks! Oh the timid, croaking frogs!
These bandits now have grown big, the
tmsture stream flows on, bnt silently, for its
happy singers 4ill are gone.
The cat-tails do not grow there, now.
They used to lean close to the willow a
whole family of them, just in the widest
pool where 1 could never roach them from
the bank. I remember the high, smooth
leaves higher than my head waving and
"bending down in the water wonderful
glossy leaves that would have strange stiff
little spikes all among them some morning.
I watched and watched, hiding softly in
the tall grass, to see the little spikes come to
the leaves. But they always knew. They
came in the night. When the dew was
thielc some morning, there they were, shin
ing, marvelous, waving softly over the
water. Ah, they were very sirens, those
beautiful, tiny heads. They rwayed all
their tall loaveB, and sparkled in the su;.,
and beckoned. Standing on the last green,
muddy island, 1 readied for them. Not to
break them. Only to put my fingers on the
glistening stems! Ou'ly to fodl the tbeauti
They wore too fur out. And then the
crows, suiling high, and the solemn willows,
and the tall, listening grass, saw a wicked
sight. Two little shoes, with two little
stockings squeezed inside, hiding lundor a
big grass clump.
But the -curtails laughed.
A GREAT VICTORY,
Missouri Goes Down tiefore toe Boys
from Lincoln A Clean and Hatto
Fought Battle Score 10-12.
M, S. U. 1 IS. IU
1 guess not
I don't thinlc
The hoodoo is dead; it died the other day
at Omaha, and gave its last despairing moan
when the time-keeper snapped his watch and
said "'tis done.1"1
No, we cniTt tell you how it was done,
and you can just blame yonrself if yon never
find out. Thore was too much to remem
ber, the day, the special train with its load
of the faithful, the people, the yelling and
tallyhos, scarlet and cream, "tigers,"
"Pop'' Bliss, Billy Wilson, ami just a regu
lar circus parade half holiday for everybody.
They were a hiiffty looting set of fellows
and no -mistake, and you couldn't blame
their handful of rooters for voicing their
pride in a long yell as the tusky tigers bound
ed over the side lines into the arena; and
they made us almost weak at the stomach
when they began pointing out the individual
rushers. "There," said one jubilant Mis
siourian, "there is our Indian half-baoV
look at him, he can move anything that isn't
tied at both ends" And "There's our cen
tre too, why he's played centre six years for
us, and hasn't missed a game, and Captain
Young there, with the nose guard on, has
played ever' position on the team." We
1cept still; we had to. King wasn't there
Bu2 Jones and Whipple limned vrouuii as
though hunting their crutches, and Thorpe
looked like a pigmy when he got near Black
smith Puuly, and when they won the toss
and began running night over our hoys and
the Missomuan polcod ms in the ribs .and
said, "J told you so" in his irritating tones,
it was too much.
That was their turn. Then when tthqy
had made the goal and ithoir crowd hud done
yelling, the ball was sturrod with a Hong
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