University Missourian. [volume] (Columbia, Mo.) 1908-1916, 1914-12-23

= you We DSSu hilfu anu 6oou oo
/, there's somebody else l want to
see just now. Good bye, lecture
halls, you're dull and dreary places
when my heart is burning for the
coy home in the Ozark hills. Let
me wish you merry things till ]
see you all again, but you need not
ask me to stay for all the time
would be longing for a week with
the folks at home.
Christmas is coming. You can
hear it ringing in the cold, crisp
air. The snowfiakes fall In feecy
clouds, but they dance awhile before
they touch the ground. The tel
ephone wires are tightening in the
winter winds but they are singing
Christmas song. A boys heart
strings that bind him to his home,
like the telephone wires, get tight
and begin to draw and sing just
before the holidays.
l know where there's a heap of
big red apples buried deep in the
dirt in the corner of the garden to
be opened when the boys come
home. l want to dig away the snow
and earth and reach through the
straw and pull out dozens of
Winesaps and Ben Davises and
carry them into the house to eat
by the fire.
1 want to see the folks who used
to give me catnip tea and pulled
me out of the spring branch when
fell in on my head; who patted
me on the cheeks and told me not
to cry when l stubbed sore toe
or fell out of the hay loft or the
calf kicked me against the fence;
who gave me loving advice while
l sobbed out the last notes of an
impromptu parody on Music in
the Air" and wished that my
trousers were thicker even though
it was summer time.
I'm afraid that I haven't been as
good to those folks as I ought to
have been, but they'll be glad to
see me anyhow; besides, they're
getting older every year and the
work that they have done for the
boys has left wrinkles and gray
hairs which ought to be remem-
bered with a visit at least once a
year.
1t makes me sad to think that
sometime in the future when I go
back for Christmas that they'll not
be there to meet me. Death is wait
ing somewhere down the road of
life behind a milestone and I hope
he's long way off, but they shall
have my flowers while they're liv-
ing and my kind words when they
can hear my voice, for the re-
sDonse of pleasant word in a par
ent's face, is more beautiful and |
impressive than the reflection of a
rose on a polished monument.
No, Columbia. your houses are
cheerful and your hearts are warm
but there's a welcome for me in
farm house in the Ozark foothills
that I can get nowhere else in the |
world. There's a circle of smiles
waiting for me as rich and true as |
e-er beamed on a boy and l must |
go.
All aboard! Here's my ticket!
Mr.. Conductor, put me off at homel
The fields move past one after
another and the telegraph poles
are chasing each other back toward
Columbia. Every seat in the coach
is taken, while grips, bundles, over
coats and umbrellas are stored in
the racks, under the seats and in /
the aisles. A drummer Just be-
hind, with his hat pulled over his
eyes is lying back in his seat as
If he were tired, but the smiles are
twinkling around his mouth. May
be he is dreaming. What's he
dreaming about?
Across the aisle is lovely maid
en- clad in college costumes and
wearing a quadrangular cap from
which a tassel swings playfully,
beating little bushes from her
cheek as the car sways from side
to side. What do you suppose gives
her such happy look? Does she
see some faraway place, while gaz-
ing vacantly out the window, that
appeals to her sense of beauty and
pleases her fancy? No, it's not what
she sees that molds her expression,
it's what she's thinking about.
On the next seat is an elderly
man with white hair and beard.
The dollars Jingle in his pockets
and his eyes snap merrily as he
turns his head to look on the pas