University of Nashville - Garnet and Blue Yearbook (Nashville, TN)

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.. . .l PRIZE' he ndgfstudy sromfl BY GRACE EZZELL HE big Freshman gave the ends of his tie an impatient twitch. It was the third time he had tied it, yet in stubborn defiance of the charm of the magic number it lay against the white of his new store shirt, as wry as the good-looking, sun-tanned face that glowed in impotent vexation above it. He held out his hands in a whimsical gesture of dis- gusted dismay. Big, brown, sinewy hands they were, eloquent of effort, of struggle, of power. They could fell a tree or drive a wedge with ease. And they were helplessly incapable of tying a simple-looking little bow in a red and green satin string! He summed up his thought in a sentence, terse and full of homely pathos: They are used to the axe and the plow. The warning sound of an unceremonious hand upon the door knob caused him to turn, with more haste than hospitality, toward the opening door. His face lost its frown and took on the grace of tender welcome as his eyes fell upon the vision in the doorway. For the big Freshman had an artist's soul, if not an artist's hand, and the child posed against the dark back-ground of the hall, his golden curls tumbled about his flusned, chernbic face, his brown eyes bright with the mischief of daring adventure, was to the hungry eyes of the alien like a glimpse of his native hills. The child's voice broke the stillness, high and clear, mischievous as the wind playing freakish tricks with the brightening leaves of the country woods, sweet as the far sound of bells as the cows, loitering here and there to pick a bit of roadside mast, tinkled lazily toward the milking place. Muver says I must stay out till peoples says, Come in, XVobbie. The young man bent to catch him in his arms, but the child drew back. I aint no baby, he protested, I'm got on pants! Ole Hannah's mean to me, she is, an' she putted my ole ap'on over 'em. His small body swelled and his eyes filled with tears at the memory of his wrongs.. Hannahls mean to me, he repeatedg she shut me up in de pantwy c'oset, an' it was dark in there, an' de little mices wunned about on de shelvesg but I never cwied, Men's like us'-aint 'fraid of mices, is they? The big man laughed down into the little man's face. Of course not! But what did Hannah put you in the closet for ? H Des fur her fun, I dess. I wuzn't doin' nuffin bad. Baby an' me wuz a-playing church, an' Baby falled off the table, an' he cwied, an' ole Hannah come wunnin'- Funny place, that, for a baby, the listener interrupted.

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M?miEfiMiPMiM?miFMxE?M ALPHA KAPPA KAPPA FRATERNITY-MEDICAL DEPARTMENT

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We wuzn't hurtin' nuff1n'. We taked off ever single dish, we wuz singin' ' Standin' on the Pwomises,' and we wuz des a-playin' 'at the table wuz the pwomisesf' Ah, well, sometimes bigger men than you hanker for a visible support when they make shift to stand on the promises. He spoke lightly, but his big chest rose in a half-stifled sigh, and his deep voice held a hint of hidden things. The boy looked at him curiously. Big men don't cwy, he said. But they do sometimes, when they are lonesome and homesick and discouraged, and everybody makes fun of 'em. His glance wandered to the latest indignity-the morning mail had brought it-a highly colored drawing of a big, broiled lobster. On its reverse side was printed in bold lettering a single, significant sentence: I was once green myself. The hurt to his pride had been healed somewhat by the kindly tact of Williams, the coach, whose trained eye detected in the big Freshman measureless possibilities for the team. He had not attempted to disguise his amusement at the clever conceit, but his comment had in it the ring of honest conviction. Don't get mad, and don't feel bad. You are green, but you've got the stuff in you that'll make the whole push green with envy, when once you are through the fire. I think we'll want you on the team. Remember, you are to practice with us to-morrow at three. The big Freshman's heart bounded anew as he remembered, and he set his lips in a straight line. I will make the team! I'm going to play football, boy, do you hear? he said with such energy that the little boy lost his balance on the foot-board of the bed. It didn't hurt, he said defiantly, and escaped penitent but unwelcome caresses by a backward movement toward the door. H Come to see mef' he said politely. But I don't know your name nor where you live. I'm Wobert William Dodge, an' I live at 50 University Avenue, an' yesterday I had a birfday, an' muver buyed me a candy walkin' stick, an' de man sayed to get up on de scales, an' I did, an' I'm forty years ole, an' I weigh four pounds. Well, I'm john Loyd, and I live in this room, and I'm twenty years old, and I weigh two hundred pounds, paraphrased the man. The boy held out an impulsive little hand. That's why I like you-'cause you's so nice and big. I wanter be pardners with you. The big palm closed warmly over the moist, fat, little one. And so it was that the Freshman found his first partner. ' After a few days there was no lack of others who wished to be pardners with him, for, after his first practice game, the fortunes of the country giant took on a boom. The axe and the plow had been kind. II AT early dusk of the day that had set john Loyd's name in the list of college heroes, in the light of the Thanksgiving fire, the little partner sat upon the big partner's knee, listening to the story of the great game. The storyteller's powerful right arm, in bindings of plaster,