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PDF (61 MB) - Virtual Library of the Public Library of Cincinnati

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''Jimmie Sophomore''<br />

It was a bitter night. The snow crunched, <strong>the</strong> ice crackled and<br />

<strong>the</strong> purple-nosed earth turned his chapped old face to <strong>the</strong> freezing<br />

stars and shivered. In <strong>the</strong> dusk a boj' came hurrying along, breathing<br />

out such clouds <strong>of</strong> white and flapping his arms to such a prodigious<br />

extent that he seemed to be in <strong>the</strong> midst <strong>of</strong> a personal conflict<br />

with <strong>the</strong> wea<strong>the</strong>r. He turned into a yard, clumped up some steps<br />

and banged his heels on <strong>the</strong> door sill, <strong>the</strong>n banged <strong>the</strong> door itself.<br />

In a jiff'y he had his poor blue hands through <strong>the</strong> arm-holes <strong>of</strong> a<br />

s<strong>of</strong>t old sweater and his feet into slippers. There in <strong>the</strong> dark room,<br />

a glowing fire was busily manufacturing great 'gobs' <strong>of</strong> heat. The<br />

boy crept in very close, stretched himself upon a low seat with his<br />

feet all but in <strong>the</strong> blaze. Then out came his i^ipe and up into <strong>the</strong><br />

shadows slowly rose long tangled skeins <strong>of</strong> smoke.<br />

Now, I'll tell you who he is. He's Jimmy. He's <strong>the</strong> boiled-down<br />

essence <strong>of</strong> all us Sophomores. He's <strong>the</strong> composite body and soul,<br />

you might say, <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> whole big class. He's thinking this minute<br />

<strong>of</strong> his two years <strong>of</strong> college.<br />

He's thinking <strong>of</strong> how fast time has glided for him and how he's<br />

getting to be a man before he knows it; how he's got to grab his<br />

chances and have all his big times quick before he's an old 'un<br />

and no good. His Freshman winter seems like yesterday; not a<br />

detail has he forgotten. He's chuckling over <strong>the</strong> green caps and<br />

<strong>the</strong> hair cuts; all <strong>the</strong> foolish things he did and laughed at <strong>the</strong>n.<br />

He's feeling a sort <strong>of</strong> satisfaction as he reviews <strong>the</strong> different events<br />

in which he licked <strong>the</strong> class above him: Flag rush, football, baseball<br />

and swimming. He's pondering over <strong>the</strong> "Cons" he got and<br />

has never made up, wondering whe<strong>the</strong>r he'll take a crack at <strong>the</strong>m<br />

in <strong>the</strong> June exams. He's remembering slipping by <strong>the</strong> last ones<br />

with <strong>the</strong> necessary twenty-five credits. How glad he was to get<br />

away somewhere for a much-needed vacation; and yet all summer<br />

<strong>the</strong>re was that old longing to start football practice. He's remembering<br />

how, when he did find himself out on Carson Field punting,<br />

page eighty-four

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