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About The Hesperian / (Lincoln, Neb.) 1885-1899 | View Entire Issue (May 7, 1897)
mnm UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA. Vol XXVI LINCOLN, NEBRASKA, MAY 7, 1S97. ytr No. SABBATH SUGGESTION. Whene'er I hear that old refrain, No matter bow or when or where, I raightway think I'm back again la church les5de jon, and your fair Young face is bending just above Tbebalteied hymn book that you hold Wliile I observe with jfta'ous lore Your soft hands press its faded gold. Tiie word somehow bring back that night Wbea I beside you long ago. Amid tie glaroosr and the light, Was worshiping, bnt none could know Hist I ray only gospel found When Heading it within your eyes And that responses scattered round Were naught bnt ardent lover's ighs. Gcy.W.CSbeex. -Vv Herds. Xo. I did not ride out across the wild inairie on a gritty Texas pony. Nordid I go armed with guns that bark three tuuesawiak and bite off tackbeads at fifty yards. Of course not! Anyway, T was too young, only eight. On those spring days, I galloper! forth ai foot to an eighty acre cornfield. 1 wmtannwj with my old dog .Tack, and a 'oiiHstaJk warelub. lookout was away to the south- at the highest corner of the field. Banna, the bluffs rose four hundred teat high, all worked and trimmed with aan, rocky ravines full of scrub-oaks. ! 7 0(l were the precious shocks, lortoddea to the cows. And in front wewfidd let itself down in a gentle , that I could watch the thirty fa v eattae neak nP toward the fod ' ', y mi3fi farther in a nieheof the l 0n a beautiful background. nJtiw J wxw onfin! lo my lookout, those days of herding seemed extremely lonesome. The peculiar talk of my com panion. Jack, was intelligible only to the cattle. In fact, the cows bothered me but little. So idleness became tire some: talking to Jack even worse: and therefore I dreamed. On every shock placed a toppling, airy cap-sheaf of conjecture. And I treated the cows even worse. Twenty-nine bay cattle became so many bad Indians, striving to plunder my fodder. When they came near a certain dead line, which I had marked out, I would rush at them with my corn stock club; yes, and hiss Jack on too,aud drive them far back into the wilderness of eornstocks. But there was one old white cow. A white Indian! Who ever heard of it? And in spite of all I could do that old cow would kick out of place in my dreams. I hated her; for she always led the others. At night, after I had driven the cattle into the yard, 1 would slip around and throw a stone at her. Oh, the disjointed dreams of those days! Perhaps in carelessly prodding around I would unearth a spearhead. Yes, an Indian once stood on this very spot. Suddenly a hundred others join him, a hostile band appears, and a bat tie begins. A famous chief leads the hostile band. With a great effort, a brave sinks his spear dep into the chiefs painted breast. He stops with a screech; the battle hushes and the chief raises his eyes toward the still bluffs. He plucks the arrow from his breast and casts it two inches into the ground. And there yes, then comes that old white cow. I
