Kansas University Weekly.
133
The door of the waiting room swings open and there appears upon the threshold the small, neatly gowned figure of a woman, who advances to a seat, deposits thereon a diminutive traveling bag, feels in her pocket and then glances nervously about her. I recognize the type and am prepared for her sudden descent upon a blue-coated official, and to witness the lively interview which takes place between them. Presently, with apparent satisfaction dawning upon her harassed face, she withdraws to a seat, only to start up quickly at the entrance of a calm, debonair gentleman to whom she hastens, greeting him with a storm of inquiries and expostulations, which however fail to ruffle his quiet exterior. Reassured for the moment by the appearance of her phlegmatic spouse, for her spouse he evidently is, she busies herself with her gloves and tie. Suddenly she grasps her bag, feverishly searches its interior, then with horror in her face, she clutches frantically at her pocket.—No, the object of her solicitude is safe!—She studies the clock, she fidgets, and at last when her train actually steams into the depot, she is off, like a bent spring suddenly released, followed in due time by her unresponsive lord. “Verily,”—I think to myself,“there are women, and there are women.”
H. G. M.
No one could possibly have been less pretentious in appearance than the lonely old man who daily passed our house. He was somewhat above the average height, rather inclined to corpulency, slightly bent, and carried a cane. His head was large, his light hair long and not parted was combed smoothly back from a broad, high forehead. His face was beardless, large, round and fat, but nevertheless was marked by many lines of care, especially noticeable about the small bright eyes and the full, protruding lips. His high silk hat, round white collar, and severely plain black coat, indicate his calling.
His appearance alone led me to suspect him of being a foreigner, but when he spoke the
suspicion was confirmed. There is but one place in the world to which that peculiar guttural accent and that excitable emphatic manner of speaking is native and that is the little country known as Holland. The old priest not only employed his lips to convey his thoughts, but tried to make his meaning more clear by nodding his head emphatically from side to side, nervously gesticulating with his hands, and occasionally stamping his foot. The expression of the face betokened a man of kindly disposition but alert and keen withal; one who would be generous in his judgements yet, quick to read character aright. His heavy-set figure and firm carriage indicated great personal strength, while his manner of speech showed him to be a man of earnest thought and purpose. A. M. S.
*
[This paragraph was omitted last week from the "Symposium of Dress Reform."—Ed.]
"What do I think of storm-suits?" They are admirable. If they are properly made, they dispense with the abomination of mutual contact of muddy shoes and bedraggled skirts.
If this were all, it would be apology enough. I have not seen at the Unversity a single storm-suit that was in the least objectionable, unless, perhaps, a few were too long to clear the mud of shoes and street entirely.
WILSON STERLING.
A. Passing Thought.
BY J. W. HULLINGER,
It is said of late that light has sounds. When creation dawned, what emotion then must have thrilled the heavenly hosts as anthems of praise came from starry throngs shooting forth into space from God's creative finger tips! What a flood of melodious light! Methinks I hear little Mercury sounding first soprano's highest note; now weightier Earth takes double octaved alto's part; high strung Mars rings forth the liquid tenor air; while old Jupiter—ponderous Jupiter—rolls his sonorous bass adown the decending staff of ages.