22
THE P E X
thinkers ? Are you liberalists ? Or are
you as the worms of the earth, fit
for nuuglit save to be tram))led un*
der the feet of men? Is it possible
that 3’ou, Negro students, whose an"
crstors were of unconquerable spirit,
and whose forcbearers were of in*
domitnble eouraffe are as the jelly-
fish-spineless? No you have a fjreat
tradition. I.ive up to it. Be worthy
of it. Tell your benefactors that if
they M'ould teaeh you liberty, let
you j)raetiee the j>rineiples of lib
erty; if thej' would teaeh you self-
government, let you )>raetice it on
your campus; if they would teach
you culture and refinement, let you
))ractice culture and refinement on
your campus, in j’our everyday con
tacts; finally, if they would teach
you to be men, let you be men.
iAsk for more liberty and indepen
dence; demand more freedom from
restraint. Ask for more self-govern
ment; demand less dictated action.
Ask for more social contacts; de
mand less restraint on your social
life. Lastly, ask for an increase in
your op])ortunities to be men; de
mand a decrease in those hindrances
which block your path to manhood.
If your fairy godfathers would
help you on your treacherous path
to manhood and liberty; if they
would help you, tell them to help
you with sincerity. You are stu
dents; you are truthful; you are
liberty loving; you are defenders of
the o))])ressed; you are men. I3e that
—student aiul man. Forget not
your great tradition.
To lion the iorch has been ihrmcn.
To i/oii ix the lasli to hold it high.
•—Charles G. Ilou'cll, Jr.
('oota At The Nurses’ Home
I was so lonesonu' last Siniday.—
Ve.s, even “C’oota” gets lonesome.
You know that “down in the wash
feeling’’— Gloom, gloom, gloom. I
have everything, but I’m still miss
ing something. Worry, worry, worry.
I couldn’t stand it any longer and,
in a fit of desperation, I decided to
take a walk. As fate would have it,
1 found myself ringing the doorbell
of the Nurses’ Home. Yes sir, your
“Coota” was stej)ping out.
A lovely lady in a swishing uni
form opcjied the door and sweetly
asked, “The name please.’’
I said, “Coota”.
She sail, “No, I mean who are
you calling on.” I was flabbergast-
e'l. “Coota” couldn’t remember a
single name. The young lady was
non'plussed for a moment and then
.she smiled and said, “Come in.” I
remembered th# story about the
“s])ider aiul the fly” and hesitated.
Hut not for long, however. I couldn’t
resist t!iat second “Won’t you come
in.”
'I'lie |)arlor had that homelike
touch. A chair here, an inviting di
van there, a piano over there, a
floor lamj) in this corner, a jdant
stand in that one, and other furnish
ings so arranged as to give the sa
lon an air of comfort.
As I took the seat which the
young lady offered to me, I had
a j)leasing sense of security, because
there were other young men seated
around whom I susj)ected were
amouroush’ bent. One of the young
ladies tipped over to the nurse who
had welcomed me, and they got into
a liuddle.—Oh, the mysteries and
dee)) eonnivings of whisjiering
fen’ininity!—I was at their mercy.
The huddle broke. The young lady