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UNDAY, FEBRUARY 16. 1000
UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN, LAWRENCE, KANSAS
PAGE THREE
K. U. Advertising Board Organizes to Discuss Publication Problems
Meeting Will Be Hold Tuesday
Afternoon With All Groups
Represented
In order to protect University publi-
cations and Lawrence Morrison's pro-
tective thing, the University advertising
board was temporarily organized for a
meeting Tuesday, Feb. 16, at four o'clock in the office of Prof. Harry
The personnel of the board is below: Barbara John Kennedy, rising manager of the U.S. business manager of the Jaya Beti Dumirie, representative business manager of the Stuart recory; John Kauney, manager of the K bouti Bank; Chelle Leslie Flury, business manager Kenneth Kaiserre, two representatives mervier; Kenneth Messeur, representative of the Men's Council, an es-coffre represente
In speaking of the board you must be present at this meeting Morris said, "Which resources should we bring?" Recognition to deserving tions will be considered and utilized advertising rates will be set. The possibility of clinic or workshop adventures will be presented. Besides University law Lawrence will be rented on the board by Claude Sectury, and another member of Commerce. Thisization is of its own form.
The group will be represent members of the seven fill ins positions that are advertising. The group will be representing the unauthorized persons on University's name in seeking action against the board will make further one practices impossible as all people must pass through action board.
Announcements
At the meeting of the board day a permanent chairman was elected, Jack Morrison, the town mayor, as its original bill.
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b = = = = =
Rhendhamii will meet this noon at Prof. Craftman's home New Hampshire, at 5 p.m.
Don't Miss Out--
Wesley Foundation interment with the Valuation Party. Parlay stakes in the Riverside property are also planned for a plce event present. The red and white emblems will be unveiled on March 18, enpire. Many special events will shine providee the interment with the Riverside property. B. Lattimore and Edson Pinto.
Want Ads
LOST: A; "East Lynne" a p leather for-lined mittens, please call 2780M, before 8:30.
FOR LENT: Rooms tor boy
Maine street near stadium.
1550W.
FOR RENT; South room to a desiring quiet and comfort. 1905 J.
EXCHANGED: a Knox death
Woolf Broe, exchanged
Otter's darth at the Alpha
Guild. Call Carroll Thomas
825
BOETTE BEAUTY Shop. Gel
permanent makeup $136; Hair
$25; Earrings $49; finger wave $15; hair cut, 25;
gift wave $17; OGTT $372; MVTT $550.
(Upstarts)
TYPEWRITERS for rent: G
clinics for rent by the
weekly firm in London
monthly pay. Lavrieve
write exchange. 737 Mss.
www.typewriter.com
FOR RENT to boys: Two rooms, walnut furniture, f heat, but hotter at all times, Phone 251, New Hampshire.
FOR RENT? A room for c
two boys; two blocks from
puz; stem bent; sleeping
1655 India. Phone 1569.
**Chief Counsel, mentors at the Alba**
**Johanna Dolin, Devin McLoughlin,**
**David Jones, Laurie Foster**
**John Marty, Leland Wood and Nittel**
**John Marty, Renee Kruse and**
**David Wood, John Marty**
ROOMS FOR GIRLS at 1234 (
one half block from the
on everything new, two
earnaped walnut furniture, private kithene
bedroom, private bath,
floor. Will be ready Feb. 1.
In the Rock Cafe Cafel.
BOARD: Home cooking served
iily style. The place where
the quantity and mixure are considered
400 R., Mrs. Hercurt,
Mass.
FOR RENT: Nicely furnished room apartment. Also room boys. 1247 Kentucky.
careerled through the use of pads,
vice, and white struts and diagrams.
He also worked on the diving
caret together from the Kebab to
the Qatar supermarket the diving of
deep-sea creatures.
Students responsible for entertainment and corrections were Mindy Stuart, the band's lead singer; Ben Weston, Florence Hall, Jack Riley, and Andrew Arley. Mr. Arley is coached by Steven Sawyer. Melinda Holtberg had charge of an components for the finale for the two shows.
Send the Kansan hon
Official hostess were Joe Russell and Minaia Stevenza. Official hosts were Lawrence Mitte and Ivin Droonze.
PAGE THREE
THE MAGAZINE SECTION OF THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
More Land
A Mud Lake Story
By Kenneth Seltsam
Late one March afternoon, two persons sat in the living room of a large old house in Dumason, Iowa. The one was a dressed-up, white haired little man with an elbowed arm and a small hat and chair, and the other, a vivacious, neatly dressed young woman balancing herself on the arm of a larger wicker borer by his side. After a few moments of seemingly suppressed silence, the woman leaned back, her eyes resting on the borer he isn't old yet, and his family's good, isn't it?
As though that speech had in some way relieved the tension, the old man answered, slowly, "Yes, yes. Quite so. I shouldn't expect Steven to be downright mean, and I suppose, too, a UTA farm is an all right place to live, providing you like it—but that, you know, may be said of any place."
"Why, father, it's a beautiful country. You would think so yourself, if you saw it. And there are such possibilities, too. Of course, maybe at first while Steve is leveling I have to work pretty hard, but I don't mind, for after that we'll have fifty acres of the best land there is!"
"Very well," the old man returned thoughtfully, "you have made your decision and I hope, more than I can ever say that you'll be happy. Now that I'm done with you, I'll probably but I'd like you to know that I think you've been a mighty fine daughter." But you're too good! You've been too good! You're always done just the things the rest of us didn't want to do. And I'll tell you what I've learned about you around here. He's not so much a pusher. He's going to let you do just whatever you're willing to do toward keeping the place going. So remember, you are going to Utah to be his wife. That's what you're doing, and that's how you're saying sharp things, but it's for the good!"
For an instant, Patricia's face was unnaturally flushed and she no longer awned back and forth on the arm of her chair. Then presently, she said in response, "Thank you for your advice, father, but—"
Her further remarks on the subject were interrupted by the crunching sounds of motor car wheels on the gravel of the driveway and she exclaimed, "Oh, there's Uncle George, already," as she rushed into the next room for her wraps and bagage.
When she returned, her father said, "Well, I hope you have a fine trip, Patty. Wish I could go myself—at least to the station, but I can't, so goodbye and good luck!"
And with a parting embrace, Patricia Kincaid left her father and departed into the unknown surroundings of a small farm in a scantily settled district of Utah. It was a new sphere—a sphere in which she could buy clothes and sell merchandise a merchant, but instead, a farmer's wife—the wife of "that that big chap, Steve Hedges, as used to work to Salt Lake and got fifty acres of the old Derrice place down to Mid Lake, good 'an cheap at the last sheer's sale," as Col. the postmaster at Derrice said. In which she was born in which she was as a woman was not to be measured in terms of beauty, or refinement, or education, but rather in terms of her ability to save young turkeys from the early spring rain; or from the coyote that seemed easy to abrugh in the sage; or around at the end of each month a credible account, better and ages at Wind Rock on Saturdays.
Steven had far-reaching plans. In time, he hoped to buy the whole "quarter" and perhaps even more. For the first summer, however, he would finish leveling twenty of the fifty sores that he could plant them in soil from the garden or potatoes and alfalfa in the spring. Then he had cows—free holosteins that he had paid "a plenty for" by Mike Patterson's sale. He wanted, also, to raise a good flock of chickens and turkeys for the holiday season, money from the sale of these, he thought, should be over until the crope was on in the summer.
In spite of the implications that he expected Patricia to help with the outside work, he remarked that he did not "That," he said, "is not your place to teach." He went on to tell her my wife to grow old like Vern Hedstrom? I guess not! I want you to stay young and pretty. Anyhow, a woman's place is to keep her house in descent order.
And Patricia tried to convince herself that Steven did not expect her help, but when night after night he came in from a long day's work on the East corner, she somehow helped to see him tramp wiley back out into the darkness to do another day's work in choice which she could have done herself. So as
the summer came, she gradually assumed little responsibilities outside of the house. At first, she fed and watered the chickens in the north shed just night, but by August, she had become accustomed to share the work of feeding and milking both night and morning.
That winter was one such as only those who have lived on the wetland Utah hills can know. It was extremely cold and the snows came as never before—dry snow that blew about day after day and seemed to melt away before it had gone in from the frozen pasture and baked up little piles of sand on Steven's newly-leaved land. But just the same, the two were happy. They revealed in the isolation of the place, for it brought with it long evenings of figuring and planning, and days of hoping. And they were happier still when one clear morning the last of February came there to their home, a baby—a big, healthy, blue-eyed little girl.
No woman could have been proud of a baby that was Patricia. She had always been a mother—to her younger brothers and sisters, to Aunt Mary's children, or to any child she happened to see. But with Elizabeth, as they named their baby, it was different, more elegant; Elizabeth, Patricia felt, was hers-all here.
Steven, too, in his more less impressive way, was pleased, but when the days passed on into weeks, and Cora, the neighbor girl who had been helping with the house work, stayed on, he began to worry about her. "The weather has gone," he said, since the last wind had pulled out nearly half of the wheat and had brought a gradual decrease in the amount of milk. Every once in a while, he would come to Patricia to ask how much "kaffir" she'd been feeding the pullets; or where she kept the sheep's water bucket, or something else suggestive. And so, she sent the diarist, but day by day, she became more alert—more reserved.
When Steven noted the fact, one morning, she passed the matter off with a forlaced laugh, and, "Oh, I am just too busy, to talk, that all, Steve. There's nothing wrong." She was busy—mightily so, with both hands, as if trying to find other things that had to be done about the farm everyday. But physical tiredness was not all that made her quiet. There was an infinitely deeper cause. She had thought, or at least had hoped, that there was something of value in life besides rubbing away more lace, and she had been bitterly disappointed.
With the coming of warmer weather, however, things became better. She gradually reprimed more strength. The crops were good too, for the rains came in April and continued at quite desirable levels until June, when she stood-out and ripened into an abundance of grain. His potatoes were the finest in all Mid Lake district and at the first cutting, his inflaff catch priced enough hay to tide the cows over the next winter and even more. Again Steven became optimistic about the purchase of the remaining portion of the land.
One afternoon in late August, he came into the chair. Immediately Patricia turned from her work without speaking, threw himself lattesily into a chair. Immediately Patricia turned from her work and inquired, "Well, did you finish sacking up the pointers, Steve?"
Without raising the level of his grave from the door, he answered unloudly, "No, and I'm not going."
"Oh, it's just this place—this form—this state! No one but a food would ever have to come to such a location."
"What on earth is wrong, Steven?" Patricia
solved excitedly.
"I'm talking about the way things go in a place like this. Veron Hadetem was just by him. He's been to Wind Rock with him since he had him five cents a bushel for them a nickle—not even enough to pay for the seed. And they told him that if he didn't want to take that price, he could ship them himself to Salt Lake. And if he didn't want to do that, he could dump them on the ground and let them not, for all they cared. A death of good it does a person to work his head off a year. He puts a cap when he almost has to pay somebody to take them off his hunch once he's raised them!"
"What are you talking about?" she demanded.
Patricia felt a sudden overshaking weariness. All your long, she had been planning on those crops as much as not, if not more than had Steven. Never were she so eager to experience eagerness, "But, there's the wheat, Steve!"
"Yes," he retorted angrily, "the wheat worth forty-five cents delivered fifteen miles over the desert to Wind Rock. We'll get rich on that! We've just get the stuff, that's all, and we'll have to
buy another hird of pigs and cows and chickens to feed it to"
But if the purchase of more stock represented to Stevie a diagnosis in that it was an acknowledgment of the failure of the "619s" to provide sufficient finance, it meant much more to Patricia, for it brought an ever-increasing amount of work. He would be better for her, Steven's meticulously increased all the money he postponed for another year the moving of the house from the homeestead and the completing of the levelling of the land. Thus it was that when in June, after a long, cold, disgraceful winter, twin bows were born, the home to which they came was hardly as congenial as that to which Elizabeth, his son once into a folding, dulking young hippies, had come slightly more than a year before.
When Patricia expressed a desire to name the no w babies Steven and Calvin, Steven was temporarily quite pleased, but as difficulties similar to those of the previous summer began to arise, and in advice to Steven, Patricia began to entirely infuse her irrigation supply, he lagged even further into his former hospice attitude. It took the form now of bitterness—toward the men who he, thought were trying to cheat him out of his crops; toward the government, for allowing such a condition to prevail; and toward the understanding why Patricia did not stop complaining of her illness and of the difficulty of her work. Had not other men's wives mothered more than three children and taken at the same time the responsibility of the cows and the chickens? But in spite of his wishes, Patricia did not regain her health, and her nausea and gaitness quite indicative of her nervous urge.
Then the winter came early, before the summer's work had been completed.
Several mornings after the first heavy frees, Steven came to the house to inform Patricia that he was going to Wind Rock. When she asked his response, he said, "I'm going to wind up, indulgent," That's what of your business?
In her anger, Patricia burst into tears.
"Oh, what!' the matter, now?" Steven asked, half unlucky.
She shrugged her shoulders and after drying her eyes, answered, "Oh, don't know. I guess—except that I happen to be married to the most inconsiderate man in the world. That's all!"
Steven's eyes opened in amazement at her outspokenness, but nevertheless she continued, "No, I'm not crazy, Steven Hodges, but I have been. Right now, I'm warm than ever in all my life. Perhaps I should have been cold all the time, always thought it was right to sacrifice myself—to do anything to keep peace—and I've been wrong. This business of peace is two-sided and each side has to hold equal ground or it won't peace at all. But, if you don't want to be a part of the family from now on, I'm at the milk mound or the chore man around here; I'm the mother of these three children and I'm going to be the very best mother I possibly can. And after this, we're going to church in the Norman settlement on Sunday, too. I don't think what a church is, at least. And the house is going to be moved down this winter from the homeestead. It's gotten mighty tiresome these three years trying to live recently in an old, two-floor log house. It isn't any longer!"
Without speaking, Steven stalled out of the room and drove away. And the day passed. He did not
That night it snowed heavily; and in the morning a driving Ulta blizzard swept the particles about to form a blinding white sheet and pilied up drifts against the walls of the desolate house into a barrier scattily outside the outside with certain death from the storm. From the inside with particular care, she flew into the wedding into the kitchen, and all day long kept sage burning in the stove and the children wrapped as warmly as possible. But as the cold night began to settle, and she heard the beating of the sleeet against the side of the house, and the shrill whistle of the stormy wind, and the tiny cough of one of her babies, a small child who had come through the whole Universe—all Nature—and even God had turned against her in the fury!
By morning, the blizzard had gone; but with it
had gone little Steven—noseless, quietly.
All through the hours of day that day, Patricia sat motionless by the side of the little wooden bed. She swayed in the morning light with thought—thought of all that had come to her in her life—as a child—a woman—and now as a
It so happened that when, at afternoon, Steven waded through the drift in front of the house and
an
san
AND JUST WHEN
I AND JUST WHEN
BE AT HOME
WE'RE ON
TO SEE HIS 18,
TO TAKE A MOTION
FIGURE OF HER
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