SUNDAY, MAY 12, 1920
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
1
PAGE FIVE
UNIVERSITY MEN'S GLEE CLUB
Debra Sigman (girl) gave a 1-hour party Friday night at the Coyote Club. The crowd included an artist, an art instructor with leaves in her hair and flower growers and formers who are members of the room. Garden hands were used in place on the mound that she planted in the town park. The lawn for the dineses, Chancery Court, Dana and Mira F. G. Brennan, Mrs. Anne Gales, and Dr. Michael Knight.
Miss Elizabeth Stephens, Earnie With alliances, Sarah Martin, of Tampa Bay Elizabeth Sigman, Oliver Townsman, Hugh Jones, of Tampa Bay Topolina New York, Gerald Hunter, Allen Olney, Morgan Gilbert, Trace McMorrow, David Rowell, Lawrence Edelson, Rachel Burnett, Council, and of Tampa Bay
The Phil Alicia Peacockchild play
is around • go on stage. From right
up the stage you see Frank
1. The band describes a sparse
colour of light-green blue violet
and indigo.
2. The band describes a white-brown
orange-brown and pink-yellow hue.
3. The band describes a greenish-blue
orange-brown hue.
Chapman served Dr. and Mrs. Pream as A. Carswellhead of Governorsville Mmr. Jensole A. Bishofel of the Tpft in the 1960s, and was bored here of the Phila Stu. 10 years.
Otla-town, quincy, warwick, alabama
Elizabeth Dell, Tarrytown, new york
Daniel H. McCormick, updraft griffith, kansas city, illinois
Topknot, moore, frank griffith, california
Chloe Fetter, bristol, hampshire wales
Jessica M. Fischer, gilg, oklahoma
A 12-hour Brightside youth summer festival Friday night at the Elk Phi Phil community at K.A. Audit. The fundraiser divided into two routes and distributors doormen were with volunteers, and the stairs were with volunteers. A large jumbo twin cultural space open to residents. Two columns of high ceilings in the town center, flanked by two Kaurasite Focal Point churches opened with a crowd. The collection was chaperoned by Willem Kraan, Mrs. Marie Baty, Mary Lee and others, all based in downtown guest streets Victoria Mill and Florence Lacoste.
Championship: Mishaura, J. D.
Ritchie, C. D. Lombard, and C. L. Burke-
Oldenburg, A. S. Tolstoy, A. N. Puskevich,
A. S. Tolstoy, S. W. Fannibal,
M. A. Clipinton, and S. W. Fannibal,
B. I. O. Deganov, Charles F. Frank
Fenns, Lawrence, K. manschofski,
Brinson Mishaura, T. E. Lynn, John
Lebanon, T. E. Lynn, M. A. Clipton,
and Mrs. Vernick Bishko, Lawrence
worthy, Mr. and Mrs. Bird, Winnipeg
Lawrence.
Alpha Owlcatcher Pt. sample gave a formal Japanese japanese party Friday night at the charged hamburger, Japanese lunettes and parathais were used in covering the lights. Fairs, hamburg leaves, and those were placed in the center of the table. Coleman owlcatcher from Kansas City furnished the munchies.
The patronage of the Alba Krupa Angra invariably comes in formal dinner parties. Princes sight its power of the aristocracy in exaltation. This boast
24th Anniversary
Sale
now-going on
One fourth in one half off
on one corner stock
Charles II.
"The College Tower."
PAGE TWO
THE MAGAZINE SECTION OF THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN for May 13, 1928
The Old Magician by Lois Jeannette Clayton
He peered up at me with unfathomable eyes, and the flickering lights in their depths seemed to mock me with inscrutability; with hidden wisdom that I might not scare. The small breeze that crept between his hair was so refreshing, he garred his hair into long, pale threads that moved before his eyes like a well masking secrets.
"Unhuh," I said, striving to shake the shivering awe from my voice, "I am yet willing; after all you have said to me of the dangers, I am yet willing to submit myself to you."
He did not answer, and his uncanny black eyes gazed steadily into my own. The breeze lifted a cold of his long, thin sleeve, and I held the tendons in his yellow hands tighten into white cords, and his fingers move restlessly, plucking at the gray robe that swathed his creeping form.
The sun disappeared, dropping like a heavy bronze coin into the black abyss beyond the hills, and one last, dull ray sought out the motionless countenance of the figure before me, then faded away into dim-
All about me, the woods had grown still and dark, and there was no sound beyond the soft whir of a bat that startled suddenly from the leafy branches. The man, and nose notlessly into the dead, grey day.
My thoughts seemed to sink into oblivion and my eyes blured so that the hard, gazing orbs of the old magician seemed to record before me, and dwindle as he grew tired of swimming fog that finally disappeared altogether.
A voice, soft and soothing as the coxing notes of me, cello hushed me into silence. Unhook spoke to me tenderly, and his words reverberated like silver music in the air. "My son," he murmured, and all the things of the forest stopped to listen. "my son, what you ask is impossible. You are but a mortal man, and your lifetime is not long enough for you to see and hear all of magic were I able to show you
Kens and eyes passed away into the silent obscurity of ages.
The red sun gleamed upon a thousand worlds, that circled it slowly, and more slowly, and finally dropped like dry, wrinkled figs into space. One by one, one by one, and a thousand worlds anast.
The moon had long since decayed, and its dust drifted like gray mist before the dead scrutiny of far stars, and hung like a pall before the hopeless eyes of Fate.
All life was lost, all destiny coded.
The sun dulled and shrank—dwindling, dwindling
dwindling—until it became another in a universe
Death, death, death, and silence like the grave of a Manchu yawned forever before the shriviled carcase of Time, but Time was not. All ages had been lost in the pit of eternity, and the black infestion put closed forever upon that last long moons of worm-dogs.
Dullness beat against my ears, and the throbbing pinniness permeated me so that I lay as one dead man. And when I first noticed it I could sense his deathless eyes upon him—his eyes that bade me follow him with a language that was ancient with heavy centuries of wisdom. I obeyed him and I moved on for my mind and my soul were helpless before him.
- Fog, dank and clammy, and full of a faint stench of evil things, drew back from me as I walked, and the trees glided past me like dim winters along the path. Gradually, my sluggish mind asserted itself. My foot became my own, my eyes cleared themselves of mist, and suddenly, I heard all of the small sounds of the forest about me; the alarm of the snakes; the noise of the birds, and the quiet murmur of a near-by stream. The fog lifted, and clear, blue light found its way through the tops of the slender trees.
I was resolved to know, to understand the most that he would teach me, and my fear of him and of his magic departed. "Unhah!" cried with the strength that suddenly surged within me. "Unhah, show me all—all and all whiskey! Show me truth, tell me truth, tell me truth," close all knowledge of Black Art to me, and I will make men know you are the greatest living magician—Martin himself, reincarnate!
The form before me paused, and I had over-taken it. I saw that the old magician's naked feet were wet with the moss of the forest bed, and his body was shaking with the weight of the cold, damp fog that made his thin hair cling close to the wizened head, but that his eyes were burning with a fire that seemed to shob blue flames across the skin. He could feel the heavy heavy with the stress upon it, but when he smiled, and had a sudden tender hand upon my shoulder, I shook it off, and said, "lead on"
all I know, yes... I was Merlin—and Merlin is kind
I will not age your youth with the weight of knowledge.
I will let you glimpse but a bit of that realm into which few mortals wander for you are
surrounded by a curiously that will not be satisfied with tiny truths,
and you are wise by the tricks of a charismatic.
“Merlin!” I abducted, and the words flew like strong birds from my lips. “Show me all…there is no conquerer.” I shouted. “I have sought you for months, and I have passed all the teats you put to prove me. Will you not quench the thirst within me? Grant me the fruit of your life.” I met a guard, marching, so that ages upon ages will know me.
The sun arose so that its rays streamed through the tangle of trees before it. The sky above glowed with blueness, and the forest was alive with movement. Merlin's eyes were kind, and his yellow face was radiant with the warmth of his smile as he listened, and then he answered me.
"my soul was laid before me, as you slept last night," he said, "and I sent it far into the world that was before all life; the world that will be afterwards; the world that is now, and was, and will be unchangeable. It did not quail. You are well fit."
So saying, he locked his arm in mine, and we stroked on through the ruffling trees, and as we walked, Merlin unfolded all Plan to me, all Reason, and all End. For hours he talked, and I listened, and I watched him climb the steep slope and the smile that rested upon his lips. When the sun had reached high noon, he paused, and I caught at his sieve in excitement. "But yet," I marveled, "I knew all that—I have always known these words of wisdom." He knew I to be, had always known to be. It seemed to me that all knowledge was laid in a shining row of words upon the moss, for me to read; words I had always known were there, but I had not read before. Knowledge, great and awful, as it should be, remained within me and it was simple and inevitable.
"Is that all?" I asked, and Merlin answered quietly, "yes." "But why—I," he began, and then suddenly knew that I knew. I had but to consult my own mind for the answer to any question; all wisdom was mine—the answers to uncountable questions! The reason Why I had chosen this advice had shown me how to teach myself, by searching in my own mind for all that I wished to know.
My doubts and fears were but ghosts of gropings that had not reached far enough; all was Beginning, all was Light, and there was no knowledge but pain in which I but I but searched far enough within my soul.
A Bit of History
By Carl C. Addison
Did man live in Kansas during the ice are? The skeleton of a giant buffalo, and the neatly chiseled white arrow head which is believed to have caused the buffalo's death, both of which are on exhibition on the third floor of Dyche Museum, are now exhibited. A group of hunted and hunted along the front of the great continental glaciers which advanced and receded across Kansas from 20,000 to 2,000,000 years ago.
Did man live in Kansas during the Ice age?
The skeleton which causes geologists to frame mental pictures of great herds of the giant shaggy ancestors of the American Bison thundering in stampside before the arrows attacks of an unknown creature. The bones are located in County, Kansas, by H. T. Martin, now curator of vertebrate paleontology at the museum. Excavations were being made in a Pleistocene bank in Lake county, a locality which has yielded many of the bones that have been found at the giant buffalo was located fifteen feet from the edge of the bank, and twenty-five feet under the surface. A well made stone arrow head about two inches long, deeply imbedded in the bone of the right shoulder blade, bone testimony of a prehistoric animal, was discovered but recently vacated by the last great ice sheet.
Mr. Martin, who discovered the skeleton considers it positive proof of the presence of man in Kansas during the Pleiotacne period. Dr. Raymond C. Moore, of the department of geology, believes that the exhibit is significant, but does not consider its evidence to be conclusive.
The buffalo, Bison Occidentalis, as it is known to science, in life was nearly seven feet high and fully nine feet long. The modern buffalo which a few decades ago roamed in vast herds upon the Kansas plains were barely five feet high and were considerably less than eight feet long. Except for its size, however, the Plainsteen buffalo was probably very similar in appearance to its modern descendant. The shape of the buffalo doubtless could doubt that its savage maker was of high in the use of primitive tools.
Thirty Miles on the Train
By Roma Funk
Discompless, how that woman across the sile and a seat ahead in the stuffy train reminded him of Ramona. He could see only her left shoulder and arm, and the back and side of her head, for the rest of the world. She used the window to the flat Kansas prairie—Ramona used to say it looked like a great bowl of gravy.
The train stopped with a jerk at a little station. He remembered the times when he and she used to go back to school after vacations; once she had said that when the train jerked Like that it was hiccuping—from too much good ole vacation. You could hear that in my home town? Right out before my mother and Dad and everybody?" Who but Ramona would say that a train was hiccuping?
Looking back now after seven years, he could see why people always got the wrong ideas about her—it was from just such harmless little jokes as that one about the train. She wasn't ever careful about what she said, or who heard her; and some people took her wrongly. Then too, those few little clothes she wore would not cover her short hair that wouldn't cover up her ears helped out the impression they got. Well, he reflected, anybody would have to know her to see what was underneath her flippant behavior and collegiate appearance. Not everybody would have believed her when she confided to him that she'd be glad when it came around, which might enough to quip around, and could get married "for keep" and have a barrel of babies.
He wondered what these seven years had done to Ramona since he had seen her. After she had gone away, her personality hovered about so many things, reminding him constantly of her. Almost unconsciously, he would think of her as the sun went down, for she had always said that from sundown until dusk was night belonged to her. When it rained, he remembered the thought of Ramona's words, explaining that the air around them could play with her. At the sight of dirty snow he seemed to hear her say again, "Dirty雪 is like a soiled woman. They ought to be so white."
The woman ahead did not turn her head, or look at the new passengers who came aboard. She simply sat. He wondered if she were tired, or bored or grieved. There was something depressing about her stillness. Ramona wouldn't ever have sat so quiet for that long. She was always moving around the room. You couldn't see of a magazine, playing with the baby across the eye, or talking. Talking was almost exercise for her, because she talked with her whole self, he thought. There was so much alive about her. She used to seem to him—he felt self-conscious about it even now as he awkwardly phrased in his mind—to be a sensitive instrument that caught up every time he entered. When he got to it, giving it color, form and expression. No this woman could not be Ramona, sitting there for minutes at a time without a move; and yet—
Seventeen was her favorite number. He hoped the woman across the aisle wasn't trying, hoped she wasn't trying not to cry, but he was afraid that maybe that was what she was doing. She had asked the dutched woman who tied the ropes wughed down by fatigue—not bodily fatigue, but her body suggested a tiredness and a habitual posture of disappointment. Ramona would have said she looked as if her soul were sick. She had the dignity and the strength she had by now, but Ramona would have been interested in the people, and held aloof from them.
Silly, the way her words stuck in his mind. He couldn't even look through an art gallery without recalling what she had said about wishing people didn't wear clothes. She had wanted a pet squirrel. Her eyes had always reminded him of a squirrel's saucy, snappy eyes—except when she cried. He smiled as he thought of how ashamed she used to be and how much he liked let the toys run down her cheeks because she couldn't help it, and tried to smile a jolly little smile as she called herself seventeen kinds of a fool.
He got off the train at the next station, and did not look at her. As he alighted, he was glad he hadn't made sure who she was. Suppose she had been Ramona? He had an uncomfortable feeling when he met her, and soon changed Ramona into just such a quiet, sad, hopeless woman as this one must surely be.
—C. Welsh.
But yesterday all life in bud was hid;
but yesterday the grass was grey and serve.
Today the whole wood decks itself nnew.
In all the glorious beauty of the year.
Phone 101
Time
II be given special
the time left for the
current now for the
mers
intier?
part of communication "of the fact that Anguine, telephone everywhere are borders.
all system demands the intricate and the intimate who, like Columbo, though required "and they were ready"
JUST BEGUN"