356
Kansas University Weekly.
admiration and devotion, and closed by asking for Elizabeth Thurston's picture.
I even went so far as to promise my own photograph in return, an offer which was discreetly suppressed in the fourth and last copy of my letter.
While waiting for my answer I lived the life of a hermit. What had a man of my experience and hopes in common with frequenters of church socials and 'taffy-pulls?' I had long talks with my mother upon the advisability of a man's marrying early in life; and had my photograph taken in various poses, for use is case Elizabeth Thurston should desire to know what manner of man I was.
The dainty, violet-scented letter I looked for did not come, but in the next number of the "Ladies Household Adviser" I found, if no comfort, at least an explanation.—" Elizabeth Thurston thanks A. A.of Jonesville, New York, for a very encouraging letter and regrets that she vowed several years ago never to have another photograph taken."
For some weeks I meditated upon my next step, then boldly wrote to Miss Thurston, enclosing a stamp for reply, and requesting the pleasure of a personal correspondence with her. I pathetically pictured my position, forced to dwell in the midst of a proasic and unappreciative community which cared nothing for my tastes and aspirations.
In due time I received a reply which somewhat startled me. It was written in a rather sprawling hand and the language was scacely to be reconciled with the proper and elegant style of the "Adviser," yet the writer expressed such warm interest in me and my longings that I soon forgot my first impression.
Our correspondence waxed vigorous, and by degrees I grew accustomed to florid expressions and occasional lapses of English, for I was a lover, and to a lover contemplating the thought of his mistress, " whatever is, is right." At last, almost before I could realize my good fortune, I found myself the fiance of Miss Elizabeth Thurston of New York City.
I confided my bliss to no one, for I was not wholly blind to the absurdity of possessng a bride whom I had never seen.
As was natural, I wished to make good my deficency so I made elaborate preparations for a visit to New York. I planed to surprise Elizabeth.
It was with an assurance which I by no means felt that I presented myself at the office of the "Ladies Household Adviser." "Miss Elizabeth
Thurston,? Oh, yes you want the editor of the 'Chats with Girls' column.—Fourth floor, Room 12.—Take the elevator," and the head clerk turned to greet another caller.
I found my way to the fourth floor and opened the door of "room 12." A cloud of tobacco smoke partly enveloped the robust person of a man who removed his heels from a radiator as I entered, and turned upon me a questioning stare.
I presented my card,—provided, by the way for this occasion as we have little use for cards in Jonesville.—“Can I see Miss Thurston?” I inquired. The man continued to stare at me in evident perplexity. "Can I see Miss Elizabeth Thurston?" I repeated somewhat impatiently, "I am a friend of hers from Jonesville." The office-boy, who had been emptying the waste-paper basket, and eyeing me with interest, gave utterance, at this point in my remarks, to an impish shriek of delight, and plunged into the hall. ,, Confound that Tom" ejaculated the man, "what's he been up to now!" —Elizabeth Thurston, did you say? well, young fellow, I never heard of you before, but I mnst be the one you want. You see I'm the sporting editor of the Stockman's Journal on the third floor, and I write that Chat column in the "Adviser" just to keep busy.
"Elizabeth Thurston is a sort of latter-day myth."
Our Liberty.
[Delivered in Chapel May 13, by Prof. Arthur Graves Canfield.]
There is nothing of which we are more ready to use the word glorious than liberty. With no effort do we feel a quicker sympathy than with the struggle to be free. Only let us think that a cause is the cause of freedom and we are its eager partisans. We burn to espouse it and, if need be, to help fight for it—especially if it be far from home, in Cuba or South America. And we do right. Liberty is glorious. Nothing is more glorious. Only let us be sure that we are not here, as so often, the dupe of a of a word. Let us be sure that our enthusiasm is for a real substance and not for a shadow, for the kernel and not for the husk, for Christ led forth to crucifixion, and not for Barabbas, the robber loosed from prison. The thought that kindled Saint Paul's imagination when he beheld a liberty that was glorious had little to