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Show COLLEGIATE LIFE <br><br> The girls have a good opportunity to show that they posses a little school spirit by entering earnestly into the gym work, boosting for a club and forming an all around good basket ball team. <br><br> HOW WE WRITE A JOKE. <br> Death-Bed Confession of a "Life" Reporter. <br> We sit, pen in hand. Silence. We rack our brains. More silence. A mosquite [sic] buzzes. Hope glimmers. Inspiration dawns. <br> "Dear me, how I am bored !" murmured the fat man, as the mosquito stung him for the drinks. <br> We lean back, blinking. Our room-mate is toiling with C Algebra. We read it to him. He is unmoved. We cast about. New gleam of wit. We grasp for it. Second chortle: <br> "Dear me, how I am bored," murmured the huntsman, as the wild boar pinned him to a tree. <br> We blink again, and read it to our room-mate. He shifts uneasily. Silence follows, very profound. We are thinking. Ah, a hunch! Third shriek: "Dear me, how I am bored!" murmured the Hottentot in the Cape Town Museum. <br> We blink a third time, and read it aloud. This time our room-mate is affected. He elevates both fists, and calls on the gods to witness his irrepressible mirth. But we are not satisfied. We yearn for further triumphs, and believe that the perfect gem is still wanting. Ah, we have it! Fourth howl of glee: <br> ["]Dear me, how I am board," murmured little Willie, as Pa laid on the shingle. <br> Our room-mate leaps up, knocks both heels together four times, and comes down with both hands on the back of his chair. We swell with pride but contain ourselves. For others are the pleasures of life. Ours is but to toil and strive. One last effort, and the world will be our. Ah! Inspiration! Madly we dash it off. Fifth cyclone of hysterics: <br> "Dear me, how I am board," murmured the student as Miss Furry brought him in the regulars. <br> Cataclysms-stars and planets-blinking lights-darkness. <br><br> FRESHMEN, SKIP THIS. <br> [The following poem is printed upside down.] <br> If there's anything worries a freshman, <br> It's something he out not to know, <br> But you bet he'll find it out anyhow <br> If he gets the least kind of a show. <br> Now we'll wager ten cents to a farthing <br> This poem he's already read. <br> We knew he'd get at it somehow, <br> If he had to stand on his head. <br> Shame on you! <br><br> Sugar House Mercantile Company <br> CORNER ELEVENTH EAST AND TWELFTH SOUTH <br> Meats, Groceries, Dry Goods, Notions <br> Hay, Grain, Flour, Etc. <br> BELL PHONE 3164 INDEPENDENT 2599 <br><br> |
