SUNDAY, MARCH 25, 1928
PAGE THREE
1.
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAS
Fewer Hospital Inmates
Twenty Patients With Mumps and Colds There Now
With sickness that has been prevalent all this semester showing a definite darkening the past few days, we had to attend hospital in still filled to the roof with capacity. Twenty patients were confined there only; the most that can be taken away of it any one time is three or four. We were sent to the dent of the hospital and Saturday.
The hospital would be even less adequate in case of certain contiguous diseases which would necessitate isolation.
Eight of the patients now in the hospital are victims of an epidemic of mumps which has preceded affliction among more than 29,000 of 29 cases of mumps have been handed at the hospital, 22 of which have been this connector. The entire third floor of the hospital is devoted to medical care; 23 as hospital officials term it.
The eight students making up the "party" are Dorothy Dorothy, c31; Mary Hart, c31; Chrina McGraw, c1; Vernon Veron, c31; John Dadley, c31; John Campbell, c31; Richard Weathoft, c2; and Joe Peter, c4.
J, L. Riding, CA1, is confined to the hospital with a broken toe contained in a gymnasium close Tuesday.
The other patients are largely cold and influenza cases, said doctor Edmunston.
(Published in the University, Daily Kansas
March 25, 1921)
BILL. NO. 4.
A 103 Concerning the Appointment of the Editor and Dirhina Manager of the Jay Hawker;
Do it emitted by the Associated Men of the University of, Kangsa!
University of Kansas
Section I.1 That the director of American
Department of Women's Affairs, in the
May, the Chair of Women, the head of
the Department of Women, or the representative,
of the Department of Women, to
represent the officer and board of
affairs elected annually to the Women's
Bureau.
VARSITY
Love and Adventure in the Ports of Call
Shore Leave
Shore Leave
Jerry has some new nautical numbers.
Shown: 7-9, Eve
Prices: Mut. 10-50, Eve. 10-50
Wednesday
Wednesday
Big Double Program
John Gilbert in
"The Shame"
Tom Mix in
"Dare Devil's Reward"
Chore Row in "Red Hair!"
Clara Bow in "Red Hair"
dent Governing Association, one representative elected annually by the Mayor's Council, and in exertion members. (Plus power server all past officers and legislators.)
Section 2. The chairman of the 132 Affairs Advisory board custoems to an act as chairman of the new Affairs board custoems to the approved and signature of the remainder.
Section 4. The Advisory Board shall subject to the call of its chairman, and not hold any other office, unless called by each of such years hereafter, must and lest should all indications from one list indicate a list of references for each candidate; a list of references for each employee and any other person, on demand; a list of references around with these references and obtain from them the previous records of the various candidates.
Section 5. That the Advisory Board shall review the draft of the award and make a final decision on the dawnmaster by a more in-depth examination of section 6. That the award good business criteria will be defined, including without further disclosure any information regarding the Award Board and its Annual Meeting 1928. That this bill shall be in full approval before the Advisory Board and its Annual Meeting 1928.
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Begging him to let her write an inscription, which one explained would bring the weaver of the cross over to a woman, said he was "not afraid."
Outside the shop she showed him the secret—uncrewing the bottom of the cross, a tiny spring released the top, and in the small aperture a bit of paper might be inserted.
Schulz The Tailor 917 Mass.
Again Buying Power Dominates
This Enables You to Purchase a
There were many beautiful bits of jewelry, carved old chains, heavy beads and crosses of all kinds. One, a small red cross, lightly engraved with her name, was found in the cottage caught Rose's fancy and she insisted that he buy it.
PAGE FOUR
(Continued from page three)
THE MAGAZINE SECTION OF THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN for March 25,1928
Kalvinator
Eulogy on The Pioneer
By Embree Jaillite
NOTE: The image of The Pioneer is placed in front of Frerris hall and a familiar sight to everyone. It was placed here as a gift from the class of 1520, and stands as a tribute to the men who sometimes sacrificed everything in the mighty cause of pioneering and the up-building of the west.
Old man, for nigh, eight years I've watched your sturdy muscles force your spade into the soil, and each time (so it secures) uncover mounds of gold. I have learned that they are also a fly million sparkling nuggets of finest progress; each you make you make one more to fame—not for yourself, I say, but for a lesser one—per-
But, I see another, nobler cause for your not eaxpying the things you helped to build—you are too occupied in a deluge of tasks, which, however multitudinous, you strive at with friendly zeal.
Your face is defyly hardened from trying years of wholesome toil and weary trudgery—the fatal struggle.
But now—— my notice is distracted, for far above there sounds the roaring drone of man aight; a portion of your gift to posterity's piecemeal throne. First I see it in the distant blue, then closer it comes, shattering the chaste atmosphere with its terrific roar. Now it is above our very heads—he hastened on, not stay at all long he hastened on, as though answering a distant urging call.
Oh! Old man, would that I were you: with muscles drawn like bended bend, and shoulders like the fabled Atlas; with spirit daring as Odysseus and heart far bigger too!
Did you see it, old man? No- you could not.
Twas not for you to see, but for you to add your
name to the list.
But you will be repaid, old man, I know you will—no troll is ever wasted which is earnest, and for one moment we will make a man uncovered by your brown, (couch forest tree), I know you have chopped many down), each trail made by your everlasting fortitude, is a mighter monument to postery than ever can be reared by them for
But no, you are yourself: I calm I do leave you with all glory that is yourselves, as undying as a summer's rain.
The Red Cross
The sailor boy stayed. Days passed and weeks.
He wrote to Clive faithfully, and sent her gifts once a week.
to make one stay and partake of its lotus blossoms.
To stay—and forget.
Then he met Rose, a black-haired beauty of Venice. Her voluptuous eyes and alluring smile captivated the sailor boy's fancy, and he sought her out, first from curiosity and later because he could not help it. Many hours they spent together alone, she said, "I am curious," and she told him the legends of their bygone glory.
One day, as they were walking down by the old shops of Italy, where bits of jewelry were sold for them, he remembered that he had neither written nor sent a gift to Claire for many a moon. So he told Rose he must purchase a gift for Claire. Rose knew she would receive a chance, her chance to hold him with her--forever.
And the sailor boy, wistfully, told her of his love for the fair-haired girl in America, who was so faithfully waiting for his return. Rose listened sympathetically and made him tell her on and on of the charms of Chaire.
Rose, woman-wise, knew her allure, knew that sailor boy would never return to America. She smiled, wisely, when she saw how the weeks were filled into months, and the months finally into a year.
They went into the little old shop, and the shopkeeper, seeing that the sailor boy was with the Italian maid, thought it was for her that he was buying the gift. So he showed his wares to Rose.
JOHNIZE SAYS
I never have a farmer who considered staying on the farm. He doesn't choose to stay; he just stays.
"The stalwart young manhood that comes from the farms of Kaisawa." That's the language to use in *The Garden*.
In international affairs we have no code of ethics whatsoever. But we couldn't have a dog-fight on the campus without somebody breaking it up on the grounds of brutality.
If a diplomat says "yeer" he means "no"; if he says "no", he is not a diplomat.
Students only remember what they write down. It would be a good scheme for instructors to have little scales on their desks and to grade note-books according to their weight.
The Kansan is as careful as any publication I know.
a tiny pencil scribbled a bit of Italian on it. Laugh-
ing, he wrote out of the paper in the cross, and
replaced the spirit in print.
The sailor boy did not know that the bit of italian scribbled on the bit of paper was as venomous poison; that the inscription told not of his love for him, that of his unfaithfulness, and his passion for Rose.
Italian skies were fair and blue, Rose's lips were dewy and tempting, and the lotus blossoms were sweet, so sweet. The sailor bay lingered—and lingered.
And Claire, receiving the lovely gift from Italy,
treasured it against her heart. One day as she was
sitting on the cliffs with her full skirts spread about
her, examining the cross closely found the hidden
message. "You were not kissed," she kissed it—it was only a joke her sailor boy was playing on her, he had written her a love message in Italian thinking she would not be able to read it.
She could not read it, of course, but she was sure
Poor eluded little Claire! Waiting so faithfully for a fathless lover.
For awhile skies were more blue for Caire, she was sure that the gift of the cross would bring back to her her sailor boy. But days passed, weeks and months, and another year. Still he did not come.
Fleeing from the prying eyes and the gossiping tongues of the villagers, Claire took to the cliffs, and there she sat for hours and hours, watching the bits of foam dashed to pieces against the cliffs, and seagulls swooping in and out. In lush lapped water, little cross burned her heart, and the Italian inscription she began to doubt.
Then the people in the village began to talk, and tales of his unfaithfulness ran rampant. People began to pity the man who was a broken-hearted friend instead of woo the broken-hearted Claire. The old Saxon was sad and distressed, because he saw the cheeks of his beloved wife laughing with little stark pain in her eyes growing and growing.
In those days, women could not bury grief in careers and absorbing work. True, they could weave beautiful cloth, and make fine laces, but this did not absorb the thoughts. Into each bit of work done by Claire, the thought of her sailor boy was woven into her dreams of a dreamed and longed only for her unfulfilled lover.
And thus the story ends. Claire, knowing that she could never love again, secluded herself in her father's old homestead, and died a few years later. Her death is so grim a disease, others say it was only a broken heart.
The little red cross was given to a niece of the old Saxon, and Milady, who now bides the little cross away in her sandalwood jewel box, is a descendant of the niece.
The little red cross often dreams of blue Italian skies, and a fair-haired mower who it—sees it.
"I will protect the sophomores of this class," said Professor Guild of the political science department, as he called the roll in his 11:30 American State Government class and found that two-thirds of the students had been forced to make freshmen and sophomores feel that the old adage is true, that "ignorance is Bliss."
"No one knows a great deal, and when he realizes how little he knows he begins to know a little." Wonderful.
Senator Curtis
A N Indian princess is directly responsible for the career of the present leader of the United States
After having been sent on foot to Topeka, a town sixty miles from his reservation for and in resisting an attack by the hostile Cheyennes, Charles Curtis ransacked the town before returning instead of returning to his tribe, the Kaw Indians.
Charley Curtis stayed in Topeka and became a jockey, having been attracted by the then popular horse racing. After five years of this work he became too heavy to remain a jockey so he decided on returning to his tribe, the Kawas. The night he stole into camp he was met by his old grandmother, Julie Popin. JJulie was the third woman voyager. She told Charlie on this night to go back to Topeka and the white people, saying "the glory of your white relatives is far greater than that of a blanket Indian."
He returned to Topeka where he went to school until his money gave out, then he started running a livery stable, as was only natural in these days for him. He had to do. He later became a driver of a night hack.
He had a lawyer friend who lent him books which he read by the light of the hack lamp, while he was awaiting faxes. After doing this for years he passed the bar examination and was admitted to practice.
He became a junior member in a Topeka law firm, the senior member of which died just at the time one of their big trials was coming to a climax. In another year he joined and won a prize for himself as a criminal lawyer.
Thirty-four years ago he was elected to the House of Representatives and fourteen years later was elected to the Senate. Of late years he has been the chairman of the Senate and now he has become the leader.
cleaning compounds such as Old Dutch Cleaner, they are using the finely divided materials belched angrily forth by pre-historic volcanics. The process of decomposition of compounds long ago recognized the abrasive qualities of the ash and began using it as a base for their products. The heavy part of the ash is used in coatings, which are highly effective in cutting the dirt.
Volcanic Dollars
(Continued from page one)
Kansas loads the United States in the production of volcanic ash, according to a bulletin published recently by Raymond C. Moore, state geologist, and Kenneth K. Lander, assistant state geologist. The ash beds are very widely distributed over the western portion of the state and occur at, or very near the surface of the country. It is not known. The largest deposits are in Norton county in the northern part of the state, and in Meade county upon the southern boundary. The ash is largely mined by pick and shevel methods.
According to the authors, the ash was probably blown miles into the air and carried by winds to its present resting place, hundreds of miles from its source.
In the City of the Moon (Continued from page 1)
Suddenly a group of soldiers rounds the curve in the narrow street and bears down upon us. They are walking four abreast and in the front row walks a prisoner. His hands are bound with cruel straps, firmly before him; his coarse shirt is opened at the throat. His eyes are upon the Princess in the balcony.
Peter nudges me in a frenzy of excitement.
And truly it is. Striding savagely between his captors, his eyes ever on the little balcony, walks the man whom the King has condemned to die. As the company nears the balcony, overhanging the street, a commotion in the rear brings it to a halt, and as a horseman arrives upon the scene, the attention of the soldiers is for a moment diverted. The prisoner sees his chance and takes it.
Gliding beneath the balcony he slaps the hand of the Princess and carries it to his lips. There is no word for words and leave-taking but the scalding tears that fall upon the small, white hand tell the saddened girl what has happened, plains a rose from the trellis, kisses it fervently and presses it into her love's hand. With a wan, sad smile he too kisses it and then places it within his shirt over his heart. An abrupt, angry command brings him to his place again between his captors, and he trudges down the street in the cold black coat. A wave splashes across his shoulder. A bend in the food soon bides that little company of death from our sight.
Golden floods of light. Mellow bursts of song.
The dainty pattern of silk shofel feet. The murmuring whispers of lovers. The Moon City at midnight.
And only a little sob breaks the silence.
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