The University Courier.
103
LITERARY.
Negatives.
As I came up on the hill the other morning, a damp, heavy fog hung over the landscape and completely filled the valley beneath me with its misty dimness. Even the University buildings were veiled in whiteness; their rugged outlines being only faintly visible, as here and there they pierced the fog. Everything was dripping wet and disagreeable.
As I neared the old stand tower the fog seemed suddenly to recede and the great red structure stood forth in strange relief before me. I glanced up at its dripping sides and to my great surprise distinctly made out the following sentences, printed in white paint, which the tower's previous coats of red had not entirely obliterated:
"Who stole the book?"
"Who got egged?"
"Who voted for himself?"
As I read these strange inscriptions a host of swift and vivid recollections passed before my mind and I mentally experienced again the exciting times and events which those words recalled. I saw again the fierce excitement in the halls on that eventful morning after "the book was stolen," and again heard the emphatic epithets and maledictions which were rife after that "egging party," and that spurious election was held. And above all I recalled the vast importance that was attached to the events of that momentous period, and remember with what deep respect the "preps" then held the big men of the school. But alas! How fleeting is fame! Few are there now who even know to what those inscriptions refer, and yet it was only four or five years ago that they were of the greatest moment. As I plodded along through the fog, I could not escape the thoughts: What mountains we make of mole-hills! How quick are forgotten the great men and the great events at college! Then all is change. Men come and go—are all-important for awhile, then pass away and are forgotten. 'Tis then as at sea, when "the quick returning waters smooth out every ripple and leave the place as if it had not been."
It was a wet, sloppy day, and as I was hurrying along to gain some shelter from the chilly, drizzling rain, I noticed two well-dressed matronly looking ladies standing on the street corner. They were most intensely engaged in conversation, and I wondered greatly what momentous question it was that kept them out in the rain. But my curiosity was satisfied, for as I passed I heard one of them remark, "And what do you think! She led back a three spot of diamonds to my trump lead!"
They were sterilizing some glass tubes in the bacteriological laboratory and in order that the corrosive sublimate solution should flow through them it was necessary that it be sucked up by means of a little rubber tubing. A sensitive, nervous fellow, but one deeply interested in the sciences, undertook this delicate task. He had succeeded very well with one or two and was busy with a third when something out of the window attracted his attention, forgetting himself for a moment, he raised his head and took in a deep breath and at the same time about half a pint of the deadly liquid. Coughing and spitting, he hastened to the faucet and proceeded to gulp down cup after cup of water. As he sank into a chair he grew dreadfully pale and almost fainted away. There is very little sympathy in a laboratory either for the awkward or the unfortunate. He was cheered but little by the solicitous queries of his companions, if he felt "any worse now?" and the side remarks that he was "getting awfully pale," etc. Nor did he seem much pleased by the suggestion that he was now completely sterilized and that bacteria would not thrive on him now whether dead or alive. When the Professor came in he apprised him of his mishap. In an indifferent way the professor looked him over, inquired how much he had swallowed and proceeded to examine the solution. "I guess you'll come around all right Mr. B." he remarked, "I find you have been sterilizing these tubes with the soap and water I washed my hands in instead of the corrosive sublimate."