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About The Hesperian / (Lincoln, Neb.) 1885-1899 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 7, 1898)
! lMffil UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA. ' ME QJ JL J- J Vol. XXVI I. LINCOLN, NKBRASKA, JANUARY 7, 1898. No. 14 an; AupiNl. The quiet of the summer afternoon Is broken only by the faintest sigh Of breezes as thoy come to rest awhile Among the cooling shades. The hills wrapped In one wide sweep of sunshine, and the skies Are blue; yet hardly does the star-lit night Sleep on so calmly as this golden day. F. B. lumlXMiux. Lambeaux stood at the window of his little dingy studio, humming parts of Arias. But ho was not thinking of the tunes, for he was ing voice came from the open door. There sat a small boy, a rag-a-mufiiu. The bright spring sunlight was dancing on his dark hair. Large tear drops fell from his deep brown eyes and as they rolled down his dusty cheeks, they left little paths. With the sleeve of his torn faded yellow jacket he tried to hide the traces of his weeping. Lambeaux gave a grunt and with a look of surprise went to the door. "What do you want? " he asked half pleas antly. "Monsieur, music, more more!" Little Gecko walked to the case then with a cry of ,. . , , . . delight "Let me play ! Oh let me play ! " tapping on the window and his eyes were , , , ,, , ,, , ,, . , . .. ., . i.ii .x Lambeaux looked sadly at the boy, then looking lar over the eastern lulls away into .,, ,, ... , wuii a siiuuen passiouuic emurace, ne garn ered up the slight form in his arms and cried, looking lar over tno eastern mils away the mysterious home of the rising sun. As if returning to present surroundings he tossed his head back and thrusting- his hands into his pockets, walked back and forth through his little room, sometimes stepping over yel low sheets of music scattered over the floor. Now he pushed his violin ease aside with his foot now his bow. Thoughtlessly he picked up his old scratched clarionet and began playing a mournful mel low tune. Soft and low the tones (Mime forth, now he was playing with them, now ho was teasing them, and again the sad sweet melody began, for Lambeaux was forgetting this ma terial world and with closed eyes and body bent slightly forward ho appoared to bo listen ing to the tones of' his clarionet. His soul was wrapped up in its language, for its music was telling that which mere words win never say. Soon the song changed to a wild thrill, emotion after emotion poured forth. The old musician bent further forward with eyes still closed and the clarionet trembled in his white wrinkled hands. Was ho dreaming of a lovely past? Was ho happy? no, with a feeling of disgust ho places tho clarionet into its case. "Oh, monsieur! more, more " the plead- "Mil voces! mil voces! so like my own little boy ! so like my own little boy ! my wife my child both gone. Your souls yes, boy. play, play, for old Lambeaux for his heart is diul and lonely. He has no one to love him for his wife and boy, his only loved oues, arc deud-Mlead ! Play then, play my boy ! " Taking A rosary from the pocket of his large flowered jacket, he sunk into a deep old-fashioned chair and counted his beads while little Gecko blew sad, sweet, simple melodies upon the clarionet for tho old musician Lambeaux. IIlXKK FjJAXClS IjANIIKI!. Tlio IVyIiif I'tin. Boys have no rights which a lady is bound to respect. It does not take a Chief Justice Taney to make this truth apparent. A little observation will prove it to an unprejudiced mind. For instance, consider the lot of cer tain boys who have somehow been dragged into spending their multitudinous spare mo ments in furnishing amusement, for, the young ladies of their sot. Tho boys show signs ,of studious intent occasionally. But there at the long table the young ladies sit, and watch and watch and watch until tho fly appears. Cameras Dry Platen Films Cards Printing Paper at LINCOLN PHOTO SUPPLY CO. Ml So 11th street.