SUNDAY, MARCH 25, 1929
PAGE THREE
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
Fewer Hospital Inmates
Twenty Patients With Mumps and Colds There Now
With sickness that has been prevalent all this semester another indefinite shockening the past few days, the hospital is still filled to writing two patients each capacity. Twenty patients were contained three times; the most that can be dealt with of any one time is 28. Dec. 15, at the door of the hospital and Saturday.
The hospital would be even less adequate in case of certain contagious diseases which would necessitate isolation.
J, L. Kising, c31, is confirmed at the hospital with a broken nose contained in a pymatian case Tuesday.
Eight of the patients now in the hospital are victims of an epidemic of noms which has prevailed since October. A total of 29 cases of noms have been handled at the hospital, 22 of which have been this semester. The entire third floor of the hospital is devoted to a "carry," an hospital officials term it.
The eight students making up the "purry" are Dwight Bellinger, c131; Mary Hair, c131; Chara McClancy, c131; Vernon Version, c131; John Doody, c131; John Campbell, c131; Richard Wheatoff, c128; and Joe Peter, c146.
The other patients are largely cold and influenza cases, said Doctor Edmston.
(Published in the University Daily Krasan
March 28, 1974)
(Published in the University Daily Calendar, NO. 1, LEE, III. BOARD OF THE Editor and Business Manager of the Jawahir School) A Bill Committee determined the Editors and Business Manager of the Jawahir School is appointed by the Association Men of the University of Kampala Section I. That the Jawahir School has been nominated as the Executive Office Man, the Dean of Women, the head of the Board of Women, the head of the branch of the department responsible on his representative, the officer and assistant to the board, the chairman elected annually by the Women's Pro
Shore Leave
mature and to be the chairperson of the 122 Advisory Board shall continue to act as chairman of the new Advisory Board subject to the approval and satisfaction of the residents.
dent. Generating Association, one representative elected annually by the Moving Musician Council, and an ex-officio member of Pivoting power all part of business and beginner training.
Section 8.3 The editor and institute of this book must have taken their (19) contributions to the study and development of such subjects, and attested to each school upon behalf of the editors and contributors on each of the whose authors and contributors are each of the whose names are indicated on
Section 1. That the Advisory board shall, in its discretion, select from the third level of the second level all candidates who will all candidatates from the list of references for each candidate, and that the Advisory board shall select from the previous record of the various
Section 5. The Advisory Board shall appoint the Editor and business manager of the archive, and assign the chairman to the 1st of April of each year her/her latex edition for the archive. The Advisory Board shall be appointed within the 1972 calendar year. The archive will be maintained without the above described arrangements. The Archive Board must also submit an April 4, 1972
Section 7. That this bill shall be in full effect and effect from and after its颁布.
not regarding to the constitution,
passed by the Mark Student Council and
the Women's Student Governing Association
in joint motion this session 2018 day of
their meeting.
LIGHT- Small brown coin nurse comp-
nension $16 in bills and 95 cents in chump.
Fiore plea call 1495,
Reward. 14'
Want Ads
TRY the Baybourn Club. Reunite
able rites, Musle every evening
event Wednesday, 14th April. 144
FOR RENT - Two single rooms, good
location, $10 and $14. 1208 Kens-
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FOR EXTENT, Two i16s rooms, good
room. $20 and $14 per month.
1984 Kentucky street, Phone 13213,
142
THEE SURGERY — Now is the time to have your trown cared for. We are putting fortitude and surgery Winnert and Roberts 2561. 146
Rond, the Kansan want ads.
rates. Music every evening except Wednesday. 1414 Tenn. 145
TRY the Raybouna Club. Reasonable
WANTED: Upper elasmus to sell life insurance, preferably to seniors. Will finance the business. Address: 64 Columbia Building, Topeka, Kansas. fax
ing to be near the University. Lawrence Reality Co., M. R. GIL, Reitor,
FOR SALE OR RENT: Six rooms and sleeping porch modern. Oak floors throughout. Full tenement. 90% owner financed. A nice place for someone wint-
WANTED—Student to sleep in gurnage at eight and answer telephone. 'all Mr. Allen, 711. 145
Showing the New Spring Woolens
T A X I
Phone 711
Yellow Cab Co.
With each reading the clatter greet, "bhailmilh!" one gaped, "Brutes!" and "those men!" from others. The laughter was unheard.
Schulz The Tailor 917 Mass.
He proffered the envelope, then turned and streaked out of the door, his bare feet patterning down the steps and up the street. Amid an inquisitive silence she opened the envelope, and after a hurried reading of the enclosed sheet, passed it around for the others to see.
JAPANESE PRINTS
450 subjects
KEFLER'S BOOK STORE
929 Massachusetts
After half an hour during which every one seemed to be talking at once, a rugged little boy of six or seven nidled bashfully in at the door, a large white envelope clutched in one sticky hand, an enormous all-day sucker in the other. Attention centered on him, and all conversation died away. "Wanna see Ms. Hunsen, he numbed, looking at the screen." He bent forward. "Here I am, amcy. What is it?"
Again Buying Power Dominates This Enables You to Purchase a Kelvinator
PAGE TWO
THE MAGAZINE SECTION OF THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN for March 25,1928
"When the men were running this town, what shape was it in? " My own husband was the last mayor, and you surely remember how terrible those offices were when we first met in them. Cigar ashes, old pipes laying around everywhere, with like as no an tobacco can hid away somewhere to give you a beadache until you found it. The city auditor finds the margin of her books cluttered up until the office is fully occupied up until the offices are something like they ought to be. Aren't you unread of our record?"
Vote For—
By Lyle Gilford
Pen and Scroll
Pen and Scroll
She paused, to hear murmurs of pride, clacking tongues of commendation. Her audience was begging to take heart. "But the thing that is going on here is so important," she foregrounded: "the only man in jail at the present time is there for chicken-stealing and he has not yet been proved guilty. Why should we let these men, who openly call themselves the Underwield, have any power over the same old slovely way? Let's get out and win!"
"My dear ladies! Are you beginning to lose that splendid vision of fine government that you have kept before your eyes? I was shocked to learn, only a few minutes before this meeting began, that some of you are thinking of withdrawing from the election race. What on earth do you mean?"
THE Vice-Gens, it was well known to the ladies of Vaneton, held their meetings in the back room of Jed Rice's cigar store; there they met in solemn conclave, safe from the curiosity of their wives and daughters, smoked until the air was blue, played poker, and plotted in open defiance of every officer-in-school from Mrs. D. Dr. Hansen, to Miss Able Jones who, as the only woman owner of a Ford truck, was dog-catcher. For the past two years she worked at the town while their husbands, fathers and sons looked on in tranquil amusement at this latest plaything of their women folks. A few weeks before the next election they suddenly awoke to the fact that although they wanted once more to control the government of their town, the ladies were not at all willing to give up their offices. Every woman was running for re-election. So the men had started meeting at Jed Rice's working, planning, willing, and demanding office, and the most heartless of their host unresponsive, the government of the town
The Purity Squand—so styled by the Underworld —were met in the vacant room above the County Bank. Their chairs grouped about an impromptu rostrum draped with the stars and stripes, they lit up the room like a night sky made by Mrs. Hansen. He heavy black hair, escaping in wires from under her black felt hat, gave a rash appearance to her determined features. Black eyes sparkling, redened hand hitting the table a smart rap as often as not, she spoke, and lucky for the world that they did not have to listen to her tongue.
Mrs. Hansen was absorbed in her arguments with her complaining followers, who could not enter heart and soul into the political game as she had done. Her hat had careened over her left eyes the brooch at the neck of her white shirt-wistah had come unfastened; no one noticed in the renewed excitement of discussing ways and means of winning the coming election.
Her audience applauded with enthusiasm, and as she descended among them for more informal discussion, she noticed, almost without its registering, the broken plane of glass in the cast window, the broken shank of a knife, the broken grot jantor at the bank, who had been scrubbing with miraculous thoroughness the spot of hall just outside the door. As they grew immersed in the sea of chatter and the roar grew louder, old Tom atood his map in a convenient corner, wiped his hand on his feet, held hiself, and answered lacka-dically down the stairs.
Stains
The three ghosts on a lonely road,
Spike each to one another,
"Whence came that stain, about your mouth
No lifted hand may cover?"
"From eating of forbidden fruit,
Brother, my brother."
The three ghosts on a sunless road
Soothes each to another
Five three groats on a sainteen run
of the beach. I was delighted.
Whence came that red barn on your feet.
I was happy.
"I stamped a neighbor's heartstone out,
Brother, my brother."
The three ghosts on a windless road
Spake each to one another,
"Whence came that blood upon your hand
No other hand may cover?"
"From breaking of a woman's heart,
Brother, my brother."
"Yet on earth clean men we walked, Glutton and Thief and Lover; White flesh and fair it hid our stains That no man might discover." "Naked, the soul goes up to God, Brother, my brother."
read it aloud. In irregular capitals, printed in red ink. i ran:
"To the Purity Squad,—Dear Ladies: we want a little talk with you about the coming election in about fifteen minutes. This is only for your benefit and to save you trouble. You'd better let us come because deep down in your hearts you all know that women ain't fit to run a town anyway." Under a black skull and cross-bones was the signature, Underworld.
Mrs. Hansen was still pounding for order among people who had no intention of being orderly when a steady tramping on the stairs warned them that the Underworld was indeed on its way to the Purity Squad. The delegation hung toward the back of the hall, where a large number of to deal with political rivals who were a part of their own families. Doc Hansen was there, waving gaily at his wife but keeping some distance from her. Mr. Deacon was there, of Deacon's Emporium, Lawyers for the Underworld. He, he felt himself entirely safe, and so acted as spokesman for the Underworld. He was a courtly old gentleman whose broad-brimmed hat was rarely allowed to rest on his head. It was told all over that he was not a judge, but if a title of nobility had just been conferred.
Scott deliberately laid his big hat on the table and after a familiar greeting to these old friends of his, he addressed Mrs. Hansen directly, "Mrs. Hansen," he began, in a humorous, tolerant tone. "I don't want to do anything that would hurt your feelings, because the Doctor and Ive always been there. And Ive loved you all by the grimming doctor, 'But we just thought that since you indies seem so set on winning this election from us, we'd try to save you all the unpleasantness we can.
"When we let you have it two years ago—let you mind, it wasn't anything but a boke. We thought you'd enjoy it, and it would give us men a rest. Now we like a joke as well as the next follow. I guess, but this is carrying it just a little bit of joy. You're not going to all the kind intentions in the world, that you're leaving behind you a very bad record. Much too bad a record for us to allow you to repeat your mistakes. We tried to overlook most of your blunders, for we didn't expect too much from women." He continued, "The rest of the outraged houseswives, but kept on steadily, his drawl maddening in its kindness.
"Of course, we don't aim to be hard on you—we're mostly somewhat related, a husband or two here, a brother or two there, being numbered among us. But the facts still remain; You only collected licenses for about half the dogs running around in this town, and your dog-catcher was too tired. I had no idea that." That's a criminal offense, you know, besides being a poor record for a city administration. Also you practically used force to get old Tim Rooney to sidewalks in front of his house—criminal coercion in a free land. And besides all that—he paused impressively,—"I'm not real sure that Vancouver is a town, properly incorporated according to the laws, but they haven't done anything obtaining money under false pretenses for the last two years, and youre every one of you liable to prosecution and arrest."
There was a dead silence. He smiled at them.
"We're not going to抱怨 you further if you still
aren't ready."
vice, dear linds, and withdraw before it is too late! With a courtly bow, a flourish of his hat, he turned and left the room, followed by the admiring Underworld.
Timid Mrs. Deacon broke the silence. "What are we going to do, Mrs. Hansen? Don't you think we really better—"
"Do?"" Mrs. Hamen stalked across the room to an open packing case and three handbills of pencils out over her shoulder. "Do?"" We'll get hammers in town with "Vote for the Pursuit" and poke in town with "Vote for the Pursuit."
The eve of the election the town was in a turbul. Husbands and brothers were having to eat at restaurants, for wives and mothers had given up every pretense of amicable relationships. Home and home care cases were forgotten; children were kept in locked cabinets, touching items touched in baskets; dishes lay unwashed in sinks. Posters flung across the streets screamed out "Vote for the Underworld and a Man's Government." Trees and telephone posts cried "Vote for the Purity Squard." There were few people on the streets after eight o'clock that night—only a ranged nigger boy or a forlorn white child deserted by father and mother—and rarely really in the room above the bank, but the Underworld, as is proper, was nowhere to be seen.
There was a sudden excitement. Old Tom, the negro jailer at the bank, came hobbling down the street as fast as his bowed legs could carry him; he wheezed up the steps to the conference room, and all out of breath sought Mrs. Hansen. "Mis Doctor," he croaked, his eyes rolling as if in mortal terror. The judge told him not to bust in the jail and get put "has Smith." He paused for breath and was overcome by bicephons. Hand on his heart, he gasped, "Save him, Mis' Doctor. The mob's a comin'"
Mrs. Dr. Hansen looked about her, the general, surveying her forces. "Constable Ellie Moon is still in St. Louis. We will have to take her place." She pulled her hat down firmly over her forehead. Little Mrs. Deacon began to sniff, giving way under the strain of the last few weeks.
"I didn't want to come here in the first place," she whimpered. "I'm tired of trying to run things." She looked around, then called out clearly. "Stop labbing and tell me, you get your truck here? All right, we'll use it. You take the wheel, and as many of you as can, drive it. You others, come running as fast as you can."
She was the first to enter the truck. With Abbie on the front seat she directed as the others crawled, regardless of dust, of stockings, of skirts, into the cabin. They jumped out and careened toward the jail, a short eight blocks away. Stopped, they piled out and rushed through the door. All was still there. There was no sign of a disturbance and the moon show tranquilly on the ivied walls, underworld were laying gigs to a defenseless town.
"Well!" With a deep, puzzled sigh, Hansen took off her hat, pushed back the hair from her damp forehead and sat down on the steps. The others, feeling quite ridiculous and very tired, sat down on the grass. They had almost nothing to say, and Hansen, feeling quite disappointed, Hansen were not friendly, to say the least.
All at once they heard the rumble of running feet. Two blocks down the street, clearly visible in the moonlight, there rounded the corner a crowd of men, black masks covering their faces, black robes concealing their clothes. Mrs. Descey lay back gently on the grass and Abbie Jones screamed loudly and wildly. But Mrs. Hanson, militant soilwoman, shouted, "We're here." The corner she confronted them. As they stopped in evident hesitation, "Who are you, and what do you want?" she demanded firmly.
The rough, hoarse voice of the foremost man answered her. "Outa my way, woman! We want that low down chicken stealer you got locked up in your jail. Jail's too good for him, and we're gonna see him." She pushed his face, pushing her aside but she stepped up closer, and biting her lln between her teeth, slapped his face.
"Owv2W! Look out, woman, you're dein' with a bad man!"
"You're dealing with a determined woman, which is ten times worse. Turn around and get out of this hall."
Insolently, on hand on hip, he asked her, "Get out,
or else—what? You can't do nothin'."
Lawyer Scott had slipped out from the trees to her side. She ignored him, but without finching began again. "I intend to protect the man in jail from the violence of fools like you. I don't know who you are—evidently you're ashamed or afraid to let me know that, but whoever you are, get out
(Continued on page three)
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