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THE MAROON TIGER
Anita Laine
A man is judged by the tie lie wears.
A few days ago two men came to our chapel to speak.
One was a copper-colored man with lilac-colored lips—
about middle age, slightly bald and quite voluptuous.
He gave an almost complete illusion of deep thought,
quiet contentment and perfect command—but his small
four-in-hand necktie was askew. The other was an ener
getic little man—somewhat pumpkin colored, with el fin-
like features and laughing eyes that were hidden com
pletely behind a huge pair of dark, gutta-percha glasses.
His necktie—alas! was one of the red variety.
Now, there are green neckties, brown neckties, laven
der neckties, black neckties, purple neckties—even yelldw
neckties that one might wear with a reasonable amount
of respectability—but a red necktie—never! Even the
fact that il was a most conservative red did not lessen my
instant dislike of it. The man that wears a red necktie
reminds me of the middle-aged spinster who buys a most
lluttery and youthful gown for some important occasion
in her life and by so doing only adds to her age.
But there they were—a negative and a positive type—
yet amazingly alike by virtue of their neckties.
To begin with, the fat one was late, purposely or other
wise. His entrance created no little disturbance in the
audience but after the first song he complacently placed
his voluptuous form behind the rostrum, gazed straight
into the student body and said in a deep, guttural mono
tone, “Let us pray.”
Then he started; he prayed for every individual in the
room—not alone for them but for everyone connected
with them—a most complete prayer of some length cover
ing every detail of our lives. Then he sat down as if he
had never spoken while we sang.
I watched him; During the whole song he never once
glanced at the book. His eyes wandered around the ceil
ing, the floor and the audience. One could easily tell it
was the first time he had ever been in Sister’s Chapel.
He kept juggling his song book up and down—uncon
sciously attracting attention to a huge ring on the little
finger of his left hand. He had perfect possession of
poise and dignity— but his necktie remained askew.
His companion, the smaller, energetic one, was earn
estly singing all this while as if he were enjoying himself
immensely.
Then he rose to speak—
“Happiness is in here”—(he began in a keen, nasal
tone—tapping his breast), “not out there!” He expanded.
“Life is what you make it” and he favored us with a
broad grin. One most noticeable tiling about him was the
fact that small though his mouth was it was capable of
breaking into a smile of amazing width. Portions of his
overflowing energy constantly crept through his gestures.
His eyebrows shot up at obtuse angles and he had some
difficulty controlling his fidgety, gesturing hands. Often
he clasped them—even striking an attitude of extreme
pensiveness at times by cupping his chin in them. If
sincerity was to be a vital factor in getting his point
over—then his surely must have sunk deeply into all of
our skulls. His whole attitude was one of great appre
ciation and abundant energy.
“The mere living, the knowing and the doing ought to
bring you extreme happiness in this life”—and with one
wide sweeping gesture he flung these words out at the
audience and retreated to his chair. 11 was a most in
spiring speech from a most interesting speaker—but (as
1 have said) his necktie was red!
During his expostulation I noticed that in spite of his
frequent insertions of humor his companion rarely
laughed. When he did it was merely a gradual opening
of the mouth with no facial expression at all. One could
scarcely tell he was laughing except that one knew the
incident was amusing. When the energetic one had fin
ished he applauded gently and delicately (like a bashful
young lady at her first opera with her boy friend) and
with extreme effort—by placing his hands on his knees
raised his voluptuous body to an upright position and
again stood beside the rostrum. The whole was an illu
sion now of a self-satisfied, contented jelly-fish. Having
attaied this position he opened.
“I am powerful in size but that is all I can claim”-
bringing to the front his dry sense of humor as he busied
himself brushing off the edge of the rostrum with his
disengaged hand, the other he kept constantly changing
from his left pants pocket to the vest pocket on that side
during his speech. His language was typical of the lazi
ness that his size would induce. Omitting all of his initial
“til’s” and running his words together he continued sway
ing and jerking.
“Thousands of people that don’t have your opportuni
ties and won’t have ’em unless you give ’em to ’em
want’cher to help ’em.” At some length he discussed his
work, challenged us as all other chapel speakers have
done and sent us into frequent spasms of hilarious laugh
ter at his frequent digs at our institution;—but for all of
that his necktie remained askew.
There they were—two men—both highly educated and
occupying positions of worth—so extremely different, yet
so much alike—a likeness that hight never have been
noticed had it not been for their mutual faulty neckties.
They consumed fully an hour of our time—but they
need not have. Their neckties had already told their
stories. The slight one with the red necktie and elfin-
features assumed gayety— it had even become a part of
him and he sought to liven things up—even trying to
create an atmosphere of gayety (poor soul!) with a red
necktie. The other also followed his trend, but he wasted
no energy trying to create a lively atmosphere. Content
ment and comfort were the qualities that nestled in his
crooked necktie.
Moral: Be careful or your necktie will find you out.
(This essay, a blending of Lamb’s humor, Irving’s de
scription, and Anita Laine’s style, is the most delightful
and well-handled one the Tiger has received this year.
We are happpy that Miss Laine (we believe she spells it
this way) permitted us to print it, but we are sorry one
of us didn’t write it. Not jealous, mind you; just sorry.
We didn’t get a chance to meet her gentlemen and their
cravats, but we shall always bear a- feeling of incom
pleteness until we do. If the gods grant us this joy we
will look on them with greater satisfaction and joy, and
we will feel more keenly indebted to the lady who put
them dowti so well on paper. We know how chapel
speakers are, and we have often wondered what to do
about them. And now Miss Laine has showed us the
way. Why, write about them! Thank you, Miss Laine,
for the essay, the moral, and the solution to our common
problem.—The Editors.)