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Wells, Chester Caesar (ed.) / The Wisconsin magazine
Volume X, Number 3 (December 1912)

Wells, Chester Caesar
Playing political trumps,   pp. 20-21

Wolcott, Roger Dod
A day dream,   pp. [unnumbered]-41

Page 21

knew he was disliked for his political telephone," called a voice from
the outer
practices in many quarters, but  it was
seldom that his staunchest workers had the
nerve to throw his failings in his face. He
was utterly at a loss to reply. He was
angry, but his common sense showed him
that he must refrain from an outburst. He
knew Johnny Jackson's power.
  Johnny was back in a minute.  "Ren,
Green defeated you 2 to 1. I'm sorry.
But I have just accepted the management of
his campaign. You speak for him at Holi-
day next Saturday night, and at Beaumont
Tuesday. Hush, now Ren, what I am tell-
ing you is the wisest thing under any
"Johnny, Henry Green wants you on the circumstances."
  A fusser is a mental pervert, who delights to stroll into some emporium
of liquid
fire on State street, absorb a ginger ale, with a troubled conscience, and
then walk out
with a guilty smirk, in hope of meeting some of his co-ed friends, who will
be proper-
ly shocked.
Apropos that two dollar prom-and you can take it eil
       Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
       The saddest are these; "It might have been."
                             A DAY DREAM
                             Roger Dod Wolcott, '13.
                  I'm sitting here where Jean and I
                  Each afternoon were wont to hie
                  Away from out the busy world,
                  And rest where bluest waters pearled.
                  Where grass and flowers and trees and
                  Assured us Nature's soul was nigh;-
                  Where hand in hand we stood and laughed
                  At Winter's snow and icy blast,
                  Our hearts as one, so gay and warm,
                  We well could mock the wind and storm.
                  While sitting here beside the bay,-
                  Alone,-I wonder if to-day
                  Her beauty was not half the charm
                  Of Nature here,-ah,-half the charm.
                  The golden sunset's radiant store
                  Of splendour, yonder painted shore,
                  The mirrored glory of the sea,
                  These wonders, have they ceased to be?
                  Ah, no! For me I know full well
                  That she was Nature's beauty-spell.
                  God! Were she here, here at my side!
                  Oh Jean, my sweetheart, Jean, my bride!!
-her way:

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