Kansas University Weekly.
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utterly wanting in the sense of public decency or care for the feelings of others. But these things have long been known and the spitter still spits, and he does not care who knows it. He is one of the filthy who asserts his biblical right of remaining filthy, and a democratic society has learned to elevate its nose and skirts and wade on. However, there is another side to the matter which to some may appear more serious. The spitter is now known to be one of the most dangerous of men in that he is a spreader of loathsome and deadly diseases. Chief of these is tuberculosis which may attack any of the organs of the body, and when located in the lungs is known as consumption. It is due to the presence of a bacillus which is communicated by inhaling the dried sputa which careless or ignorant people leave lying about. No place is more favorable for the dissemination of these bacilli than a college where a large number of people of all kinds spend much of their time in a dry atmosphere, many of them habitual spitters and few of them taking much vigorous out-of-door exercise. We are all taking continual risk which is far from being imaginary. One of the young women of the class of '9; was compelled to withdraw from the University a short time before gradation, suffering from a disease which soon developed into a tuberculous abcess in the shoulder. For months she endured the severest agony and only the greatest medical skill and a change of climate were sufficient to save her life. How many of us are unconsciously absorbing the germ of disease which will sooner or later destroy our lives or make them of little value, can not be stated, but our chances are suggested by the fact that the best authorities claim that as many as one-fourth of the people who walk the streets have tuberculosis in their bodies—and the most of them are spitters.
Why not stop it? Why not inaugurate a crusade against the abominable practice? Why not out-law the professional spitter as a public nuisance and a private menace? Will not the WEEKLY lead in the matter?
I think it was Andrew Lang who said that the only epitaph he cared to have upon his gravestone would be:
"Here lies one who never spat on the sidewalk."
Let us organize against the common enemy until, whatever else of good or ill may be said of us, it may be truthfully announced that here, at least, is one spot where no one spits on the floor. T.
LITERARY.
The Heart.
The heart hath chambers twain;
Within them
Dwell lodgers, joy and pain.
If in the one joy wake,
In the other
His slumber pain doth take.
O joy, thy measure keep,
Speak softly.
Lest thou disturb his sleep!
WILLIAM HERBERT CARRUTH.
e German of Neumann.
The Tale of a Wayside Cross.
The little town was dusty and crowded, for every soul, from child to grandsire was on the street, eager to honor the dead Bishop's memory. Men's words grow tender as they recalled his all-embracing charity. A mother, weeping, told how he had blessed her babe the day before his peaceful death. A sad-browed girl, old before her time, sobbed at the remembrance of his gentleness at the confessional.
John Underwood felt that the grief of the simple folk was not for his curious eyes; and, since he did not care to witness the endless ceremony of the funeral, he escaped from the pressure of the throng and idly made his way through deserted lanes out into the highway. A wayside shrine in a leafy setting of elder bushes adorned the road side; a quaint, rude cross with mossy arms and a knee-worn base. Underwood sank down wearily beside it. The place was full of a subtle influence which had power to awe even a grandson of the Endicotts.
A soft voice as of one musing disturbed the reverie into which he had fallen. The cross was speaking.
"Half a century ago they were playing about my foot; he a sturdy lad, and she a dainty pinafored lass with twin blond braids. I see them hand in hand beside the black expanse of a mud-puddle. 'Let's be married, Army, and have a house, and make pies, and not go home any more till dark.' I watch their radiant faces as they build their mansion under the elder bushes. I see her busy fingers fashioning mar-