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THE UNIVERSITY BUMBLE-BEE.
7.
And trust that this, his latest written
book
May prove more successful than his
other one
His book on “Slavery,” which was a
“hun,”
But was never published, strange to
say,
We know not why, even at this late
day.
But Riley is ambitious and wants
to be
The most popular man in the faculty—
But is he? Ask of the stars and th y
will say
“Nay verily—not till the others have
passed away.”
He wants to be Chancellor; oh, he
wants it bad,
Sighs for it, and mourns for it and is
sad
That he hath it not. With bootlick
pen
He writes to influential parents of the
men
In college, thinking he can start a
boom
And some day place him in the Chan
cellor’s room.
Now note ye well with what a jealous
eye
He watches Boggs’ every move to spy
Some way of ousting him from his high
seat
And reigning in Boggs’ stead. But ’tis
fall
And let the Orchestra play “lifter the
Ball.”
III.
And now for Jesse; “soft case” as we
say
When playing base-ball; for his fol
lies, they
Stick out like pot legs or like'stacks of
hay
Athwart a meadcw. But we will not
take
Much time or space to write about this
fake,
Only a few brief words and we are
done.
We hear that he is going—or has
begun—
To write a book. Ye gods! How have
we sinned,
That we should come unto this fear
ful end?
Is not this “cruel and unusual,” such
as Ben
And Tom prohibited when they went
to pen
The Constitution? We again in
voke
Shades of the departed to arise and
yoke
This stripling from his murderous de
signs
Upon the English language and the
science
Of Physics. When at first we heard
That he was writing a book, we in
ferred
That it would be a novel or a book
Of poems to “The Stars,” “The Mur-
mering Brook,”
Or to “My Lady’s Eyes,” or some srcb
rot;
But no, his crime’s a fouler one; for
now we wot
He’s writing a book on Physic’s, “cos,”
, said he,
“There’s not one published good
enough for me
To teach.” When I called upon
The shades of Burke, et al, to rise and
don
Their war paint and forthwith to
camp
On Riley’s trail and make the prairie
damp
With his scalp’s blood—they did ncd
come;
But now the case is desperate, and
some
Of those old shades must rise with
whoop and yell
And scare off Jesse, or who can tell
What will befall us? Shades of old
Ganot,
Newton and Davy, Farraday and—
oh —
Well, I can’t find just now a name to
rhyme,
But that’s oil right, I haven’t any
time
To stop and hunt. But, ye aforesaid
shades,
Ye must arise and choke off Coates.
His raids
Upon the science which ye' helped to
found,
Will bring the beauteous structure to
the ground;
And we will have to wheel off the de
bris
Of what was once jmur loved philoso
phy.
Coates write a book! Ye gods, when
this is done
Who’ll say there is no new thing’neath
the sun?
When hens give milk and cows lay
golden eggs,
And college boys don’t pull profess
ors’ legs,
When elephants love tennis, giraffes
play foot ball,
And Athens merchants make their
profits small,
When icebergs glitter in the torrid
zone,
And Mother Hubbard finds her dog
a bone,
And barbers are speechless;—Coates
may write a book,
But not till then, and, by the proph
et’s crook,
He must not do it. Banish from your
mind,
Oh Jesse, all thoughts of this kind;
Let Riley run the authorling’s side
show,
And you, young Socrates, let your tal
ents go
Toward learning how to read that
which is writ
In the faculty minutes, and not have
to sit
Spelling out words, and calling
“mis led,”
“{Mistled,”like “whistledas Zip once said
You did. But never mind, let that go,
For Riley says that even Boggs does
not know
How to read the Bible, and we know
that writing? ,
Is hard to read when it’s one’s owp
inditing. /
So, Good bye, Jesse, be a good little
boy, j
And maybe Santa will bring you a toy
Next Chi istmas. Study hard and try
Vo learn learn your lessons, and by-
and-by
You too, perhaps, may be a great man
Like Washington, “and drive a coach
and span.”
Muse of the Dunciad, that didst lend
thy strain
To England’s Byron and Augusta’s
Bayne,
(’Though not her bane, but her’s and
Georgia’s pride,)
Farewell and thanks. With thy help
we have tried
To paint a picture of the things that be,
And now, my muse, like Ariel, thou
art free.
MARK OF DISAPPROVAL.
At midnight in his office neat
Sat Riley dreaming of the hour
When all the college, Boggs in defeat,
Should tremble at - his power.
In dreams, through town and state he
bore
The honors of a Chancellor;
In dreams the “Word of God” he read,
Then wore old Boggs’ lordly mien,
And filled his place in many a scene
With those who to receptions lean,
Yet who expulsion dread.
At midnight in the b hiding’s shade
His wrongs had ranged a desperate
band,
Ready to be, when the moonlight fades,
Heroes with oil and brand.
They had old Riley’s image formed,
For a grand purpose their hearts
warmed
Upon that Friday night.
■ShirffrrrrtrGity ffflfetfYfi&r haiTrv—.fl-sri*-
With threats for him who slumbered
there, *
With match to strike and oil to spare
To wake his burning sight.
But time passed on, the “pimp” awoke,
That bright dream could not last.
He ’woke to hear an awful yell:
“He burns! come out! ’tis well! ’tis
well!”
He awoke to see, midst flame and
smoke
And shout and groan and windows
broke,
And wild shots falling thick and fast,
His likeness on the tree branch hung,
And heard what like a trumpet rung
The cry of that brave band :
“Burn—till the last oiled thread is dust!
Burn for you’re zeroes so unjust!
Burn, as a Professor you’re a bust,
Oh, you must leave this land!”
He burned, the oiled man, long and
well,
He piled that ground with ashes black,
The rope broke and the image fell
Blazing upon its back.
The few remaining burners saw
His fall when rang their proud hurrah,
And the bold deed was done.
Then slyly to their rooms they went,
As if in them the night they’d spent,
To wait the morrow’s sun.
Come with your water bucket, Pat;
Come to the dummy where it lies,
At the stump’s base, a rag man flat;
Come, when the knotted ties
That hold the effigy are broke,
While Yahoo windows loudly joke,
While in Professor’s room ’tis warm.
Like earthquake shock or ocean storm,
He vows the police to inform;
Pat curses terrible; he tears
His hair, and rings the bell and swears
To tell on all he sees or hears,
In doings clandestine.
But as for the students, if their fire
Should light the Trustees to the truth,
This deed has gained them their desire,
For in it there was something higher
Than fun of thoughtless, heartless
youth.
For Riley, with the learned men,
Fit teachers of a nations sons,
Ranks not. There is no gifted pen,
(Even ours the great task shuns)
To tell his faults could ever reach,
For he is folly’s child ’tis clear
One who is in a professor’s chair,
Yet was not born to teach.
WASTE OF MONEY.
Innate in every human being is
a desire to avoid labor. Seldom,
if ever, a human being likes work
for its sake. When work can be
avoided without loss to one’s self,
it is never done. Indeed some
times he shirks his duty, merely
on account of this weakness and
the work which he should do is
attempted by others less compe
tent, if competent at all. Right
here in the University this is done.
“Zip,” in addition to his able in
structor, has a fellow who pretends
to teach French so I am told, and
thus Zip’s time is occupied by six
hours a week, practically nothing
to do, save through the short win
ter d^ys and the long sultry sum
mer - Hays, Zip~reaIly~d’oes noon
ing but smoke his pipe and crack
stale jokes. It is true, his hair is
silvered by reason of many years,
yet while we know him fully com
petent, if he cannot, on account of
physical inability, attend to the
duties incumbent upon him, he
should think of the unfortunate
position he occupies anid act ac
cordingly.
From time immemorial “Charby”
has had six hours per week, no
less, no more, enough to amuse
him I presume. Yet it is necessa
ry that he should have an in
structor, how absurd! Who
should this instructor be but the
incompetent, proud Coates, whose
abominable presence is ever found
in the Physical Labratory, and
he is paid a good sum for this.
Harry, Jesse’s uncle, delivers
six lectures a week about what we
scientists do. This occupies three
days in the week, and the other
three he is speaking to farmers
over the state. He too has an as
sistant.
Bocock, in addition to an in
structor, has two fellows teaching
classes under him. He whiles
away his time playing pool and
billiards at the Atheneum or sit
ting in his easy chair puffing his
cigar, and thinks what a great
genius he is to bluff the other