Show The Old Lady at the Football Game I have a young friend a sophomore at Harvard who is exceedingly fond of his cousin a bright girl of sixteen with fresh rosy complexion and roguish ro-guish blue eyes She is much interested interest-ed in athletics and was particularly interested in the YaleHarvard game at Springfield A gentle hint or two secured an invitation from her cousin to be present at the game The proceedings ceedings got no farther however for at that point it became necessary to consult her mother and that lady a quiet retiring widow of fifty absolutely abso-lutely refused to allow her daughter to witness such a low and brutal amusement Things looked dark Indeed when my friend by what stroke of genius I know not prevailed upon the old lady to go to Spingfield herself of course accompanied by her daughter The game was in the middle of the second half things were looking very black for Harvard when the ball which ha been kicked within a few feet of the opposite goal was seized by a big Yale man who started on a run down the field The first Harvard man that approached was laid sprawling sprawl-ing in the dust a second met with a similar fate In the meantime the bal was being rapidly borne towards Har vards goal All seemed lost when a small fellow in crimson and leather grabbed at the Yale man and over they rolled in the dirt Others piled on I was a tumulus kicking struggling humanity hu-manity A tremendous noise of yells and shouts burst forth from the spectators spec-tators in the crimson side But far above it all came the shriek of a old woman She stood near the top i of the grand stand and frantically waved her shawl as she screeched Boston Kill him Courier Kill him Kill him I |