Normal Star (San Marcos, Tex.), Vol. 2, Ed. 1 Friday, October 27, 1911 Page: 1 of 4
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t
Normal Expectancy.
In the book room at the Nor-
mal.
All alone upon a shelf.
Stands a silver cup, a Trophy
You can see it for yourself.
If you then begin to wonder
If you’d know, how came it
there.
Here just - word.—That cup
was won.
By our track team at the fair.
’Tis not so large nor fine, nor
handsome.
As an aero trophy cup,
But for the boys who won it
for us.
To all we proudly hold it up.
In it we read of Williams broad
jump;
And Coers, who ran so light
and swift.
What meant their Yictiries to
the Normal?
They were a boasting upward
lift.
But ‘ as the first cup stands
alone,
For a mate it seems to sigh;
And we hope to get one for it.
Long before the Bye and Bye.
In a window down a side
street.
Stands a larger one by far,
Half of it could not be covered
Tho, ’twere wrapped in a
Normal Star.
Twould look so nice up in the
Normal.
As a prize cup number two.
Come boys, into, your old blue
jerseys,
And your duty bravely do.
Get yourselves, alive and ready
Take a great big bracing
breath,
Knit those shoulders close to-
gether;
But dont work Gambrel half to
death.
Be not slothful in your move-
ments,
Tell them all you’re feeling
fine.
At the signal quick! leap for-
ward;
Smash the waitng, grimy line.
We want that cup, boys get
busy;
Normal now is trusting you,
Coxen, shove them to their
places.
Grab the ball and shoot it
through.
(F. G.)
To Students.
Students of S.W.T.N. Lets get
to work and adopt some good,
rousing yells and songs for the
foot ball and basket ball games.
Nothing so spurs a team on to
victory, as the knowledge that
the whole school is at their backs
cheering them. Or, if against
odds too great for them, they
lose the game, we ought to cheer-
all the harder to let them know j
we still have confidence in them,
and that v/e believe they will
win next time. Our teams are
surely worth rooting for if any-
body’s are, so lets get busy!
The ’Possum Hunt
It was mid October; the haze
of autumn lay low ever the pine
clad Texas hills and the wooded
“bottom lands” of the winding
Trinity. The days were warm j
and lazy with the breath of In-
dian summer, but there was a
hint of frost in the crisp air of
evening, and a promise of the
coming cold. The wild fowl
were beginning to appear upon
the river; the squirrels and the
blue jays were in continual war-'
fare over hoards of nuts and a-
corns; the sweet gums and hick-
ories had changed their green
for scarlet and gold; and in all
Nature there was a strange acti-
vity, a restlessness of prepara-
, tion for the coming winter.
A family of negroes lived in a
tumble-down cabin on the pine
ridge clearing, and as the season
went on, this same feeling of
unrest came, in a measure to
them The pick a ninnies roam-
ed the woods far and wide in
search of pecans and walnuts,
while old Une’ Mingo plowed in
his witer oats or chopped fire-
wood.
Half a mile or so from the
cabin, in the further end of the
clearing, stood a certain tree
which was an object of no little
interest to all the negroes, espe-
cially Mingo. This tree was
neither large nor peculiar; it was
just a scrawny, smoothbarked
persimmon, but clustering thick
on every limb were those small,
reddish I need not describe the
fruit, for every Southerner is
quite familiar with a ’simmon
tree. Although Unc’Mingo’s
route to his work rarely, if ever,
took him near this spot, he each
day made a wide detour to ob-
serve it. He would look at the
clusters on the now bare branch-
es and turn away, shaking his
head, only to come again on the
day.
Then, one night the frost
came. The next morning, as
Unc’Mingo turned out to get in
some wood which he had cut,
the fields gleamed like silver in
the sun, and the very air had a
new aud invigorating quality.
All the grass had been nipped,
and such green things as still
survived the summer were killed.
Also the persimmons were touch-
ed. They lost their green firm
ness and biting acidity, taking
on a richer, riper, color; and
when old Mingo, making his
morning round, saw and tasted,
his wrinkled black face broke
into a thousand other wrinkles
with a smile that went from
ear to ear. At the same time
he passsed his hand over his
lean stomach and grunted in
anticipation, for iv4Fcn
was one thing for which he
would break any law of God or
man to attain, it was a ’possum,
fat and ’simmon fed preferred,
baked with gravy and sweet
potatoes, as his wife, Mandy,
alone knew how to bake one.
That evening, as he smoked
his pipe before supper, he exult-
ed to his wife: “Mandy, 1’se
been a hankerin’ an’ a hankerin
fer sumpin’ ebber sence de good
Jawd knows when, an’ dis ve’y
night Fse gwine fer ter get it,
’kase now de dawg can trail, an’
I’se shoiy gwine ter lay fer dat
’air ole gray back sinner what
steals my ’simmons.”
(Continued in the next number)
[Sung to tune of Jungle Town]
Way down on foot ball ground
The game you’ll see this very
day
You will hear our rooters roar
And you’ll see our heroes score
And old Coronal’s team
Will fairly scream as in a dream
We will heat and knock them off
their feet
Way down in foot ball ground.
Flunk and the world flunk’s
with you. Pass and you pass
alone.
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Normal Star (San Marcos, Tex.), Vol. 2, Ed. 1 Friday, October 27, 1911, newspaper, October 27, 1911; San Marcos, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth614571/m1/1/: accessed July 18, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Texas State University.