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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.
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