12
THE BATTALION..
liberally applauded. But about the best
thing of the evening, was the toast of
Mr. Elrod. He gave no regular toast,,
but made a little talk full of good
thoughts and wishes for the class, col
lege and every one connected with it..
■which was much appreciated by every
one present-
The last course consisted of ice
cream and cake, upon- the completion
of which the bangpiet was ended.
While perhaps some of the boys wer.
rather backward about giving toasts;,
upon the whole the occasion was the
most successful and the most thor
oughly enjoyed of the year. Every one
left in high, good humor and at
peace with the world, and as long as
one single member of the Junior class
of ’00 is left alive the memory of the
'.ventful banquet of April 7 will be
kept green and flourishing,
S. H. O.
J^rwMs 'H THe (qtjoM fnicH.
. COL. J. C. EDMONDS.
M ERE IS a brief story, as a tribute
to the memory of a Texas boy.
I tell it. because no one else knows
the facts. All others connected with
it are dead. The boy is dead, his
teacher and his mother are dead, and
the examiners who were with me at
the Normal examination are dead.
Old Hunt is a county of North Texas,
where the cotton stalks bend low
with the fleecy staple, and the corn
yield fills the cribs, the rail pens, and
part has to lie on the ground. Green
ville is the county seat, now a busy
city, but when I came to Texas
twenty-six years ago, it was a coun
try village where town lots still ex
changed owners as the result of a
pony race. I recall with pleasure the
friends made there, and the facts of
this piece occurred nearby. Miss
Jennie Rutherford was my assistant
teacher, and her post of the school
duty was done with the vim and en
thusiasm that brainy woman always
put into their work. One stormy
night our building blew down and
our paths separated. I went into the
district clerk’s office as assistant, and
she went out east of Greenville, about
eight miles and opened up her school
of the boys who came to her. She
wrote to me about one, so out of the
usual line that I became interested in
her enthusiasm. Some three years
passed, and I got a note from her say
ing that her school would close on
such a daj, and that I must be sure
and come to examine for her this
bright poor boy, the son of a widow
near the school. I went out early,
had a pleasant talk with Miss Jennie
about her fondness for teaching, and
her success, and she told me of the
poor widow, and of the two boys who
picked cotton, bare footed, and by this
means and odd jobs supported their
mother and themselves.
The older boy was between 15 and
16 years of age, of very slender build,