SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 11. 1928
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
PAGE FIVE
Students Attend K. U.From Nine Foreign Countries
Thirty-three States Beside Kansas Represented in This Year's Enrollment
/
A recent survey was made by Registrar G. O. Foster concerning the distribution of the 4,065 students who are now attending the University, with 298 residents. In regard to counties, Douglas county sends the largest delegation of students; a total of 717 students were sent, lowest in the list, each send one.
From the other states there is a total of 290 student. Missouri, the state with the largest number of students, Montana, Michigan, Mississippi, Virginia, and Wisconsin are represented.
Nine foreign countries have 44 students attending the University. The President of these countries other foreign land represents are Hawaii, India, Japan, Mexico, Burma, Nepal, Sri Lanka.
Kansas Counties
Allen 24
Anderson 30
Ackison 33
Bartler 11
Barton 25
Bourbon 21
Brown 31
Elder 35
Chance 9
Chautauqua 6
Cherokee 38
Cheyenne 6
Charlift 10
Clay 25
Cloud 29
Coffey 22
Corvallis 52
Cowley 36
Crawford 55
Decatur 5
Dickinson 58
Donnipion 17
Donglais 717
Edwards 8
Elk 8
Elgin 8
Elleworth 18
Finney 10
Ford 28
Franklin 42
Gray 14
Gove 7
Graham 6
Grey 5
Gracey 1
Greenwood 21
Hamilton 4
Harper 15
Harvey 21
Hindebel 1
Hodgsonman 6
Jackson 20
Jefferson 37
Jewell 37
Johnson 70
Kearney 2
Kingman 23
Kiowa 9
Labette 33
Lane 3
Leavenworth 118
Lineoln 12
Limn 12
Lyon 45
Marion 27
Marshall 22
McPherson 28
Mondee 8
Miami 36
Mitchell 17
Montgomery 18
Morton 10
Nemaha 18
Neosho 25
None 9
Oange 26
Ottawa 13
Pawnee 24
Phillips 12
Potawatomie 22
Osborne 19
Pratt 27
Rawlins 7
Reno 65
Republic 29
Rice 28
Riley 22
Rooks 7
Rush 7
Russell 22
Saline 34
Scott 29
Sedgewick 121
Seward 14
Shawnee 142
Sheridan 5
Sherman 30
Smith 21
Stafford 19
Stanton 2
Stevens 2
Sumner 53
Thomas 8
Trego 7
Wabamamee 19
Wallace 19
Washington 10
Wichita 2
Wilson 23
Woodson 12
Waywardette 229
Wynnplatte 229
Other States
Arkansas
Arizona
California
Colorado
Florida
Idaho
Illinois
Iowa
Kentucky
Louisiana
Massachusetts
"Christmas Is Just Around Corner," Says R. C. Abrahams, Postmaster, So "Mail Your Packages Early'
"Christmas is just around the corner," says R. C. Baugh, postmaster of the University station. "Mail your donations to the Postmaster General has been asking early mailing in the Postal Bulletin daily from Washington, D. C."
"Another year is fast nearing his
first season of play, and the win-
sell of good will will extend,
will be here again," writes R. S.
R. Reefer, third assistant postmaster gamen-
girl.
"Christmas with its whirling snow, mumbling holly gray decorations and bright red berries, is a time of joy and gladness, and the excitement spirit is due to the custom of "christmas"."
bloop year, it will come on Tuesday and since you are going to be regular on the day before you go on holiday after the Christmas holiday, it is not deemed necessary to make any Christmas gift.
Addresses on all mail should be written with pennants, giving the number of addresses possible. Place the addresses record card in the upper left corner.
Early Mailting Encouraged
"Do not open lid Carltonite" on the package of mail. If you are sending a mailing at an early date, Seals or ricledainers may be used but should not contain any small objects or greetings such as "With best wishes",
"Merry Christmas" and a Happy New Year.
ner, associate professor of zoology
(er); Frank W. Blackmar, pro-
fessor of sociology; Albert Bluch, pro-
fessor of sociology;
Serghe G. Brann, Dean of the College;
Wm L. Burick, professor of law;
Hamilton P. Cady, professor of chem-
istry;
C. D. Dunlain, professor of Englis-
sh; Eschle Eldridge, associate pro-
fessor of sociology; L. N. Plini, pro-
fessor of sociology;
Dean of Pharmacy; Frant H.
Hodder, professor of history (on
leave); E. H. Hollands, professor of
chemistry (on leave);
Dean of Pharmacy; Frant H.
Hodder, professor of history (on
leave); E. H. Hollands, professor of
chemistry (on leave);
Edwin M. Hankins,
professor of English; B. H. Hungri-
n, professor of eatomology; Jami-
cering F. K. Skekter, professor of
Johnson; professor of electrical en-
gineering; Frederick E. Kester, pro-
fessor of physics and astronomy; E. H.
Naismith, professor of physical edu-
cation; C. F. Nelson, professor of
biochemistry; F. R. O'Brien, director
Catania, Sicily, Nov. 10—(UP) —The advancing lava stream from Mount Etan reached the railroad bridge near Macassar at 3 m, today, increasing speed and volume as fresh rock was added to the destructive torrent.
Stream Is Increasing in Size and Volume Hourly
Already the eruptions from this
The advanced stream is now made up of two of the currents which have been fed by a new stream into a new territory. In two hours today this main stream advanced 90 feet after having increased speed and speed hourly during the night.
Lava Eruption Continue
great mountain of fire laws caused damage estimated at amounts of ten billion dollars. It can be increased if the wilde stream of lava continues to pour down on the mountain.
Only two persons have been killed because the great creature wniored before it unbound its furious strenght. They were forced to evacuate their homes in the powerful 18th village which at the bottom of the mountain side.
All of the villages are deserted. Some have been damaged. Mustahill has been destroyed, only in few buildings remaining standing on ground squares. A portion of the city destroying it as it was damaged some 300 years ago.
Send The Daily Kansan home.
Send The Daily Kansan home.
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1025 Mass.
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Every Mon., Tues., & Wed.
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THE MAGAZINE SECTION OF THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN November 11, 1928
742 Mass. Phone 537
Hess Drug Store and Beauty Shoppe
PAGE THREE
His whole being was afire with this new, eager
DEN and SCROLL
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Beyond the Tracks
by Louise Iwin
The trucks lay like two silver strokes against the darkness. From the depot one could see the little town covered with a film of light which made a patch work of shadows. The tiny park sits beside a tree face of dark and light, and the great dark marks of the trees stood solidly beneath the shadows.
A bell beside the tractors began to ring and a small light shone down the tracks. The figure which had been lying motionless upon the grass strewed and rattled itself. It was a tramp. He neither slept until he saw them coming. He killed him into a state of relaxation. For a while he seemed undecided whether to get up and try to catch this train or wait for the next which came before daylight. He sank down again upon the grass, then ran over his eyes and waited until the pounding, clanging, and roaring of the train had come and gone and was now only a remembrance of the thudding in his car. A dog somewhere up the street barked, howling, and jumped down the street, bumped over the crossing and was gone. The clock up in the village struck two.
Some time later in the night he was suddenly awakened by the sharp ringing of the bell at the crossing. He got up and shack off to the dark side of the depot where he waited until the great black bag in the hall caught his ear, felt hat, thrust his hands deep into his pocket and hold his arms close against his body. With stealthy movements he crept along beside the train until near the end he crawled into an empty box car. Pulled off his shoes and wadding his coat into a pellet, a fellow down in one corner of the car.
Clouds began to float over the moon making long intervals of pitch darkness and as they passed on the light again flooded over the town. The tramp lay now dosing and now awakening.
"I've been a fool! Why didn't I stay there at home. It's not all gone now; I can go back. I'll have 1,000 thousand times and then drifted back again, but this time I will obey. How ill will work? She is in the ground under this rain but I will please her. I will get the farm back and move. It is still there. I will slide back to this again."
A patched of moonlight lay near the door. The light now shown in at short intervals and a cool dampness had come into the air. He fell asleep and later was awakened by rain upon the empty freight car. He imagined himself far away both in years and in distances.
The rain was blowing in through the cracks in the door of the freight car and his feet had become wet and uncomfortable. The soothing spell which had pervaded him was gone. The ferocity of the rain left no trace but not conductive of thoughts of a warm kitchen but rather to thoughts of other rainy days and nights.
He was sitting again in a high stiff-backed chair in a spotless kitchen. It was not a cheerful child but it was an immaculate one. His mother sat at the kitchen table with the evening paper spread before her on the white oil cloth cover. There was the oil lamp with the glass shade trimmed with rose water. It had seemed to gorgeous the day his father had brought it home in the wagon from town.
Oh, how many times he had gone over this same awful day. Then he had tried to finish school. There was the day he had talked to the man about the leasing of the farm.
He remembered that it was a grey, bleak day. His feet had felt numb and cold then as they did now. There had been people around him crying and talking. He had wanted to scream, not to cry. Every one was looking at him. Queer thoughts had flowed through his brain: "Why should I be thinkful?" he asked. "What would happen if we bump at Snorber's?" Snorber's dead nose too, too? "I must think about my mother; they are burrowing her. This is the last time I'll ever even see her casket. That's a nice casket. What long handles!" Funny, caskets have handles. It's clear down out of sight. Big damp cloats of dirt are being shovelled in and below them is my mother. I must move—I guess I'm fastened here. I can't move. I just can't move. I can't move." And then people had begun to talk to him and he had gone back home to the spatttle kitchen.
Christopher Robin Again
The House at Pooh Corner
by A. A. Milne
E. P. Dutton—$2.00.
Recieved by Mation Pinkham
After we have gone to the market square to buy a little brown rabbit with a penny, after we have sat on the "halfway stair," after we have heard about the "King's Breakfast"; after we have had "sand-between-the-toes;" after we've had all sorts of adventure "When We Were Very Young"—something we aren't aren't five any longer, for "Now We Are Six." and some are sixng-up-on-seven. We have many more adventures but somehow they're not quite the same. We're growing up.
That is what is harping to A. A. Milne's Christopher Robin: he's growing up. He is still a foster-child, but he's leaving his enchanted land, and he has a little sad, a little disappointed, and a little cross.
"The House at Poo Corner" is the latest book about Christopher Robin, Winnie-the-Pooh, Eeyore, Piglet and the Rast. There are some delicious spots in the house for quiet reading or just enjoying for quaintness which used to be spontaneous.
"if anybody wants to clap," said Eeyore, when he had read (a poem) "now is the time to do it."
"Thank you," said Eyore, "Unexpected and gratifying, if a little lacking in Smack!"
There are many of the original when we-were very-young iFlashs, however — the absolutely pure and freshest memory.
Which expresses our feeling exactly. We shall always welcome another Milne story, but we can't help it if this time our applause is a little lacking in Smack.
"So what I'll do," said Poch, "it'll do this!"
Poch is later described as feeling "a little eleven crookshack" that being the hour he usually had "a
dream of playing the drums."
The power of suggestion is Milne's to a marked degree. He never becomes obvious, never heavily explanatory, never patronizing. There is a delicacy in explanation that is a rare gift in a story-teller for children.
We suppose that one day the young Christopher Robin asked his father some questions concerning "People called Kings and Queens and something called Factors, and a place called Europe, and an island called Brazil," and how you make a Suction Pump (if you want to) and what comes from Brazil." And then his father probably sighed and thought, "Youngster's growing up." He knew that soon Pooh the Teddy Bear and the rest of Christopher's friends would be deserted. He was made to stand as a remembrance of the little boy.
The work of Ernest Shearp, the artist who made the pictures, has become so closely associated with the figure of Christopher, that the name of Shearp will probably become identified with that of Milne just as Tenniel's Mac was with the magic name of Carroll when those two created the famous Alice.
Suddenly a grating and grinding of wheels and a terrific crash mingled itself with the awful dip of the storm. A streak of lightning revealed the train crashing through a washed-out bridge. The train car had been trapped under the cars near the end lay broken and wrecked under the bridge. The train men, who had been on the front cars and had crossed safely, grazed about in the early dawn. Finally every one was accounted for. Then, almost instantly, the trains thrown from the falling cars far up beyond the tracks into the whirlpools of the flooded gully.
joy. He was standing by the door now. Loud clap of thunder shook the earth. Everything was black except for the occasional flicker of a灯on the train and the sudden zig-zag streaks of light that followed him. He swept over his thin, poorly clad body. His shoulders were straight and his hand grasped the side of the door. He stood three motionless. Something had come to him which he didn't understand. The night, the storm and his thoughts had brought a new edge to his heart. "I'll be home — I'll do it—I'll go back and work."
Plucking Ears of Corn
by Anna Louise Sloo
As the deadened rays of the sun faded from the exosite Russian steppes, two peasants were trudging home from work. As they passed a recently wiped blood with glance at a girl who was guiding a crude plow through the fields and faced the glow of youth, her set expression gave a sense of bittersweet. She had spent the best years of her girlhood helping her brothers earn a meager existence from the land, so much was wasted for lack of adequate implements. She worked earnestly and carelessly under the sun and rain had roughened her skin. But she had not forgotten her skin. However, she was not unpleasing to look in—it in fact tourists often found in her sturdiness a rare beauty.
She nodded stolidly at the two men as they pass one of the peasants recurred the greeting and, turning to her, asked if she would stay.
The men walked on into the shadows of the nearby woods while Therese continued to plow irregular furrows in the loamy earth. She knew they had yarn she had never done. She called them her hard, bitter. Possibly they had night she felt far from that. Her heart sang as the mounds of earth fell beside the plow. This was the last time, she hoped, that she would ever work in a field. Was she not to marry Ivan in two more years, or she would丹她 best dress (white, with heavy red stitching) and go to town to meet him.
How wonderful he was! Did he not work in the mines and receive a real salary? Therehee had no idea how it was, but it would be much more than she could get for her small crops. And they would live in town where the women even wore shoes. Her meditations on Ivan stopped as she reached the edge of the field. Her last furrow was plowed.
As she walked toward the rude rule in which she had lived since the war, she thought of her two brothers. She had heard nothing from them for months, and should they return they were quite capable of tilling the fields. They had never stopped to consider whether she needed them. Before the war her father had been quite successful, but since his death everything had been a struggle.
After a meal which meant little to her, Theress lovingly flered the heavy white dress, and the bandana in which she would tie up her long black hair. She walked out to the well and looked into it. There was a light reflection in mirror. When Theress looked into it there was no unhappy in her face. She was just a young girl, happy.
"Ivan's been killed," he blurted out awkwardly, horribly embarrassed. "The mine caved in this afternoon. Everyone's gone. The bodies are in the school house."
A knock at the door made her run hurriedly to the front of the hut; callers were unusual. The young peasant who had passed earlier in the evening stood at the door, fumbling his rough hands. As he looked into the girl's face he was surprised. Somehow he had never thought of her as being beautiful. It made the message harder to deliver. "How's you been killed?" he blurted out awkwardly,
Having mercifully delivered his message he left with, "I thought you'd want to know."
Theses spent hours wandering wearily toward home. When the thought of the word "home" came to her, she laughed; the laugh was one of bitter laughter as she walked into the doorstep. At last, when morning came she got up and went to the well. As she pulled up the bucket she saw a different reflection from that of twelve hours before. It would never again be the same. And she smiled and squared shoulders she strode to the field.
These did not answer. Instantly her face hardened into the look by which all the neighboring peasants knew her. Without turning back to her house she started to run. She reached the town breathless. Yes, it must be true, for crowds of people surrounded the schoolhouse. With the force of a man she pushed through the door of the house, she drew the mine superintendent refused to let her in, but he confined the report that Ivan, her Ivan—was among the row of sheet-covered bodies.
She remembered the countless mornings she had walked this same path. Today she would do the work in the fields that she had intended to leave for her brothers. It was already planting-time, and she must make the crop pay. As she took up the worm old clow she thought of the day before,
(Continued on page four)
TEXT V
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