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Page 10 text:
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.ll. 8 WHITEANDGOLD Sinhinf' New Year's Eve On the outskirts of Sherwood forest, so renowned for the exploits of Robin hood and his bold followersthere lived some years ago Mr. Sinkins novelist, always engaged in writing half a dozen stories at once, but never, so far as records show, finishing any of them. As most great men have hob- bies, so also did Sinkins. His special amusement when waiting for an in- spiration, was to saunter off into the forest, a pair of large forceps in one hand and a jar in the other. He used the forceps to catch stray beetles and spiders, which he put into his bottle. Afterwards they were transferred to shelves at home, much to the horror of his timid wife. One afternoon on New Yearls Eve, as they were sitting: by the fire, Mrs. Sinkins, a rather eccentric personage, suddenly conceived the idea that she wished to go skating the next day, so she dispatched her faithful husband to the town five miles away for some skates, bidding him beware of goblins, which frequented the woods on that particular night of the year. Now Sinkins, though a novelist, was practical to a fault and-be it said to his shame-declared that he did not believe in such ridiculous things as fairies or goblins, and stated, moreover, that if he should happen to see one, it would soon be bottled along With the rest of his curiosities. Sinkins there- fore, left home with a light heart, reached the town, procured the skates, and started homeward through the woods as the sun set behind a neighboring hill. He soon came across a peculiar kind of iireily and in his eagerness to follow it: and add it to the rest of his specimens, he lost the skates and the way home also. After walking for hours and finding himself in the place whence he had started, he decided to sit down and wait as patiently as he could for morning to appear. His exertions had made him tired, and notwithstanding the fact that he was tired, cold, and hungry. he soon fell asleep. All at once a hand was laid on his shoulder and he was roughly pulled to his feet. Standing about him, he SIEIW imps, big, little, fat, lean, dancing and performing all kind of antics. The imp by whom he had been so unceremoniously awaikened seemed, both by his manner and dreSs, to be the leader of the band. Now before this host of uncanny beings, in pointed shoes and caps, and with hideously grinningr countenances, Sinkins was, to say the least, fright- ened; and when the king began talking, he, practical Sinkins, trembled in his shoes. The goblins, angry at having been disturbed in their games by a mor- ' tal, demanded in a hundred different squeaks, that he should be made to pay the penalty for his intrusion. At this the king informed him that on the last night of the year the woods were given up to the goblins, and that any mortal infringing on their privacy was condemned for one year to imprisonment in their underground home. When the proceedings had advanced as far as this Sinkins was dropped into a crack in the earth and fell until he reached a cave, lighted by fire Hies. Here he was taken in charge by a few imps, who, being too feeble and old to join in the sports, had been left on guard.
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Page 9 text:
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WHITEANDGOLD 7 When I Go to Normal The morning is like an evil dreamenay, it is one. The night before I virtuously resolve to rise very early, so that there will be no hurry in ltthe wee, smai hours? I awake promptly and then cuddle down and go to sleep again, llbecause I have so much time? Those moments are blissful, but unprofitable. There is a horrified exclamation from mother. and I am snatched from my delicious slumbers by the unfeeling announcement that it is 6:55. Then the evil dream commences. Some poetically in- clined person- has written of the llFableland of Dreams? but when anyone has attempted to catch the seven-forty car in a one-eighth-awake condition, he knows that the true name is the KlStableland of Dreams? and that it is originated by and maintained solely for the benefit of nightmares. In my frantic haste. I step upon a shoe-lace that is flopping around un- tied, and break it in a vital spot. One is found somewhere, anywhere, and then I tug at the other to be sure it is tied firmly, and it breaks with 3 vi- cious snap. The minor catastrophes during the hurried dressingr and the gobbled breakfast, I will pass over, and come to the frantic scramble to col- lect the varied contents of the wicker basket that is the coat of arms of ev- ery Normal girl. My pencil is broken. my pen is diffusing ink upon the library book and my handkerchief; a glass of fruit in my lunch basket upsets and trickles sticky sweetness over the universe, and my car book and one tennis slipper have departed for parts unknown. Finally I start on the gaIIOp, still struggling with my hat pins. As I rush out of the door, I slam it to, the spring lock catches, and from my parched throat comes a yelp of horror. I have forgotten my library book! Frantically I summon mother and she informs me that she put the book in my satchel and casually adds that I Hhad better hurry. y By this time I am so pressed for time that I dare not go around by the gate, and so I scramble over the six-foot back fence tdevoutly hoping that no eye will behold the fearful deedl, and start for the car. It is eight blocks, and I have just five minutes. The last block is a steep hill to be climbed. 'Ti; fortunate I can run. I now do so. I catch my car. It waits patiently for me to run half a block. It always does. The conductor grins. He always does. Then there is a desperate flurry as I dive into the depths of the ubi- quitous basket after my elusive car book. Finally, my car caught and my fare safely paid, I lean back in the seat, exhausted, but with a clear conscience, a tranquil mind, and no responsibility in regard to the rest of the journey. And tomorrow morning I'll do it all over again.e,o6. IlllIIllllllllllIlllllllllllllllllll. Sweet little Emily Rose Was tired and about to repose. But her brother, named Clare, Put a tack in her chairvand Sweet little Emily RoseeEx.
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Page 11 text:
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WHITEANDGOLD 9 It would take volumes to tell of all the strange experiences of Sinkins during the year of his confinement with the goblins, of their strange cere- monies, their work, and their play. One day when lying down in the cave he suddenly felt cold, and started up only to find that he had been lying down before his own hearth, and that his wife, in order to waken him, had thrown a bucket of cold water in his face and was now standing near the door with the lamp in her hand says ing in a loud tone of voice hEleven oiclock, eleven oiclockf, as she impatiently waited for him to become aufhciently awake to go to bed. On inquiring if she had her skates which he lost in the wood, she gave him a sound scolding for inferring that she ever possessed such articles when he knew how she de- spised them. A In spite of the wifeis assertion that his skates and goblins were dreams, that his falling through the earth was in reality his falling off the sofa, that the fire flies were but the stars he saw when his head struck the hoor, Sinkins declares up and down that his experiences on that memorable night were too real to be mere dreamse-A. F. W. lllllllIIllllllIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHII On the Other Fellow Heard in History conference: JThe Cave men came to the council dressed in their skinsf,-H0w about it, Miss Galliher? Miss G-d F-y Eng. ILeVVell. you begin and well sing out when you get on the plot. Mr. WesteWell, what are your troubles today? PupiI-hl have none; but Willyou please explain how x with the expo- nent zero equals I before you say anything ?,, Extracts from the Holwery composition of a FreshmaneiiLet us walk hand in hand, with Hawthorne, to bliss and happinessfiehHis characters are as clear and lucid as a full moon on a pitch black night. Mrs. Stephens, in AstronomyeDo we have any dark companions fol- lowing us? Heard in the oral reproduction of a story: itAnd the negro entered, pale and trembling? Mr. Thompson, on art-Yes, the old girls they used to paint were vastly different from our modern Gibson girl. Wanted-For an Xmas present by some of the boys in the chorus, a strong box in which to carry the tunes. IIHIIIllllllllllllllllll A number of articles accepted by the editor aad put into type have been crowded out of this issue.
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