Stetson Weekly Collegiate

mT&H<imm'C2ui&m STUDENTS' PUBLICATION OF STETSON UNIVERSITY. VOL. XXIII DE LAND, FLA., THURSDAY, MARCH 2, 1911. No. 17 JUDGES AWARD SECOND PRIZE OF TEN DOLLARS TO A. R. PHILLIPS. Owing to the lack of real work and the dearth of good material the judges have only awarded the second prize in the Short Story Contest. Mr. Phillips story will be published in an early number. This week we present a story by one of the contestants, that received honorable mention. CUPID—SANTA CLAUS. By. E. J. Smith. "Nan, how do you spell pistol?" asked Tommy who was absorbed in writing a letter to his parton, Saint Nicholas. " P-i-s-t-o-1, pistol. What do you want with a pistol?" questioned Nan. "Aw, I want to kill Indians, and bears, and tigers, and lions ." Here Tommy's voice trailed off into silence. Whether this was due to lack of material or breath, it would be hard to tell. My goodness, Tommy, you are certainly growing bloodthirsty," his sister laughed. Tommy, with a sniff of contempt for his sister's opinion of the coming Rooseveltian slaughter, slowly scrawled down the word. There was silence for a few minutes, then Tommy threw down his pencil with a sigh of relief and satisfaction. "Now I guess Santy will know what I want, all right," he said. "Let me read it to you dear, and see if you have forgotten anything," said Nan. Tommy reluctantly surrendered the letter, and Nan read the following message: "Dere Santy plese bring me a gunn, a sord, a pistol, and lots of oranges, apels, and penutts. Tommy." With a smile for the somewhat original spelling, Nan gave the letter to Tommy and said: "Well, it seems that everything is here. Now put it in the fireplace so Santy can find it when he pays you a visit tonight." Tommy agreed to this and put the letter in the huge, oldfashioned fireplace. A sudden draught of air caught the paper and whirled it up out of sight. "Look, Nannie, the letter has gone and Santy won't see it," cried Tommy, as he saw his precious document vanishing. "Yes he will, dear. He will find it alright." Toran.y was soothed and persuaded to retire after a long argument in which his sister told him the various stories of bad little boys and Santa Claus. Tommy, convinced of his wickedness, hugged sister and liberally besprinkled her with repentant tears, when she Idssed him good night. Nan did not follow her brother's example and go to bed, but remained up for a long time afterwards, gazing into the fire and listening to the regular and monotonous ticks of the big clock in the hall. It was a beautiful night. The moon hung high in the heavens softening and transforming the stern outline of Winter with the brilliance of her light into a fairy world. The stars twinkled happily as if they were thinking of that famous night many years ago when a Savior was born into this world. All this was lost to Dick Sanders, who was driving slowly along the road. His mind was filled with thoughts of the quarrel which threatened to make his Christmas one of gloom. It was just three days ago that he and Nan had quarrelled. He could recall every incident, every word of it. In his fancy he saw the look on her face when she gave him his ring, he heard his hasty and angry reply, but now when his anger was passed away, he saw that he was as much to blame as she. He had started to drive to town, but somehow his horse had brought him into the road in front of Nan's house. This was a good half mile from the road to town, and whe n he woke up from his gloomy thoughts and discovered this he chucked to his horse and turned off to the main road. As the buggy turned, a slip of paper fluttered in front of him as if undecided what to do and then dropped into his lap. He stared at it for a moment, and then took it in his hands. As he read the words written on it, his face suddenly lighted up with an inspriation. "By Jove! I'll do it," he cried, slapping his knee. Half an hour later he arrived in town and began his preperations. The clock was striking one. Nan, who was still sitting in front of the fire, awoke from her dreams, and realized that she ought to be in bed. Taking the lamp she climbed the stairs to her room. Dick, who had been patiently waiting outside for an hour or so, gave an exclamation of relief when he saw the light go out. He crept cautiously up to the back porch and examined the kitchen window. It was unlocked, and in no time he and his burden were inside. Dick was now on familiar ground. He knew the house as well as he knew his own; but man often comes to grief when he least expects it. Dick tiptoeing through the dark room came in contact with a chair. He stood still for a moment, his heart beating furiously and his shins smarting. At length, having heard no noise, he continued his journey and began to arrange the presents. Nan, who had been vainly trying to sleep heard the chair fall when Dick ran into it and jumped up. Pshaw, its nothing but the cat," she murmered, trying to calm her jumping nerves. Then she remem-