Newspapers / Elon University Student Newspaper / Nov. 12, 1920, edition 1 / Page 5
Part of Elon University Student Newspaper / About this page
This page has errors
The date, title, or page description is wrong
This page has harmful content
This page contains sensitive or offensive material
MAROON AND GOLD. 5 Elon College, N. C., November 8rd, 1920. Dear Ma: I haven’t wrote to you in so long and I have so much to say I hardly know how to say it. 1st of all I want to tell you about the election around here. I was boost ing Uncle Buck for constable and Jimmy Cox for president—Uncle Buck was elected. Concerning my other candidate I have to say a little worse than W. J. Bryan ’cause my heart went consider ably lower down than the grave. There doesn’t seem to be much grieving for Cox — and why should there be ? People who trample the memory of our dead dough-boys and stab their wound ed commander-in-chief in the back could hardly be expected to mourn over a defeated candi date. The faculty gave a musical re- citl the other night. Now I want to tell you a secret, but don’t you breathe it to a soul— I ain’t swell enough to get the drift of this high class music. Well, they played the piano in B tight—a man named ’Xander sang in “B”- ellow and a lady sang in “G”- screech. I liked the lady that played the fiddle—the last piece she played reminded me of a whole cowpen full of little pigs jumping around having a good time. Long toward the last Pro fessor ’Xander and Miss Fish came out on the stage and stood side by side. They folded their hands, straightened their mouths —it was a beautiful pose and they wfere waiting to have their picture took. But the man with the cam era failed to show up and so after awhile they both busted out cry ing—it certainly was pitiful. Some crazy guy tried to make out to me afterwards that they were trying to sing—but he was just fooling. Our football team went off to battle the other day. The night before they went away we all went up to the chapel where we were entertained by them. Our hearts were filled with joy over the musical selection rendered by Professor Hook. He sang in a beautiful monotone. After sev eral melodious productions by the team the program was concluded by a cute little prophetic speech by our perfectly adorable center, little Richard Odom. Oh, and I was about to forget to tell you about our Halloween doings. Well we—er—no can’t say that in a letter. But I will tell you about some of the cos— ah—er—no I won’t either, H. E. White might get mad at me. But you just ought to have seen them sli—n—uh—no, Ma, I can’t say that either. I tell you what—you just wait until I come home and Pll whisper the whole affair in your ear—tee, hee ! I thought of something funny. The delegates that came to the convention were sure good look ing—I speak only for the ladies. I put on my best suit, got a brand new hair cut, shined my shoes and didn’t forget my- jazz bow and silk shirt; but with all my trouble none of the fair delegates seemed to go crazy about me—I don’t know why—women are so hard to fatten—I mean fathom! Any how I didn’t get a date with any of the charming visitors for Sun day, and so I took a long walk out in the woods. There amid tears and in the gorgeous beauty of the forest, I thought up the following poem: The hickory’s soothing yellow Gets hold on a fellow. Reconciles him to his fate Even though he has no date With the charming stranger in our gate— How I craved a date with her no one can tell. But the maple’s naughty red After all is done and said, Helps me forget the convention And the damsel so winsome Who was pretty and then some— In the words of the poet—“Gee, she looked swell!” Poetically inclined, I am, FRESH MAN. THEY DIE IN ARMENIA. They reach their little hands to you, Their hands so thin and white; They trust to you, while winter steals Upon them in the night. They look at you with hollow eyes, With starved and pleading eyes. And while you eat your luxuries, A little baby dies. They cry to you with quivering lips. From which the color’s gone; They trust to you, they lean to you. Their little bodies wan. And see, their strength is failing fast, They drop upon their knees. And while you sleep all snug and warm. Three million babies freeze. They do not laugh, these little ones, These children cold and pale; They look like ghosts we used to see. When howled the winter’s gale. They stand unclothed within the snow. Beneath the star-decked sky. And while you sit so warm and glad. Three million babies die. —Sion M. Lynam. STIDENTS! MAROON and GOLD Is YOUR PAPER Boost It Send the editor your news items. Also help support your college pub lication by getting your parents and friends to Subscribe for It
Elon University Student Newspaper
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Nov. 12, 1920, edition 1
5
Click "Submit" to request a review of this page. NCDHC staff will check .
0 / 75