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LXFl t/H ir-S i^O') THE UNIVERSITY BUHBLE-BEE. r. BRARY ± I STING WHERE I LIGHT—I LIGHT OFTEN. VOLUME V. ATHENS, GA„ JUNE 16, 1902. NUMBER 1. Our Aim. We strike the faults that bind us, The wrongs that we’ve been through, For the weal of those behind us, And the good that we can do; For the cause that lacks assistance, For the wrongs that need resistance. For the future in the distance, And the good that we can do. Things in General. What The Bumble-Bee Saw and Said on His Trip Over the Campus. The Bumble-Bee had been on a long journey. He had been hover ing over the University of Geor gia flower garden in 1897, and had expected to find the sweet scent of numerous flowers of justice, wis dom, and moderation. But instead there rose such a stench of Boggs- v'tr «*”df BiloydUir caused the vitals of a copperlined automaton, much more those of a bumble bee, to perform gymnas tic contortions. So he hied him away to fairer fields and after five years absence he flew back again, cautiously holding his nose. He did not recognize the peculiar brand of smell which had charac terized the administration of Boggs and Riley, and he fervently thanked heaven for that, but an aroma by no means resembling that of a red geranium still arose from the outwardly fair garden. So he started on a torn of investi gation. He first visited Science Hall, that splendid monument of rascally construction. “’Tis the place,—and all around it, as of old, the chimney s fall; Breezes whistle, gas pipes freeze, rooms are cold in Science Hall,” he hummed airily. “Let’s see who’s in the chancel lor’s office. I know Boggs has gone. Why, what’s that in the chancellor’s chair? Let me get my microscope. Why, its Walter B. Hill. Cold blooded, clam-like Walter. Some one told me he had tried to teach ethics this year and flunked most bodaciously. He had best keep “ hands off” of teaching and stick to administrative work ; he wasn’t made for u teacher. And who’s this across the hall? My Lord! its old Harry White. Smooth, slick, bald-pated Harry, with his smiling face, of whom Willy Shakespeare said, ‘Villain, damned smiling villain’. I sup posed the devil had got that old hypocrite years ago. I wonder if he still carries on that same course in Chemistry ! Chemistry I ! The boys used to call it sleep-istics. With his sickening smirk and syn agogue gestures, it was a case of sleep or vomit. Let me get some fresh air. And he flew up stairs. “What? ho gasped, “Charlie Herty gone? Well that’s bad; guess he got too big for the place though. Who’s this in his place? Well I’ll declare! old Grif Smith. Smith who knows as much about chemistry as a hoe does about side pockets. He looks like he’s in earnest, but surely the trustees can find a man better able to fill the place. “I wonder if old IJroty is up ■ H it les, the old goggle-eyed tellow is still up there among the amoebae and crustaceae. He’s still the same, good at heart and honest in purpose, but hampered by unfortunate mannerisms. He’s got Billy Hoyt, he of the inane smile and puny brain, with him. That’s a good pair. “The old Hall of Misrule, where ‘Bandy Bosomed Ben’ used to conduct his travesty on English, has been converted into the Pedun culate” he commented, “and here poor crazy Starnes instills his va garies about agriculture into the heads of a few' unfortunates He has an assistant, a little runt with a stunted brain and a sandy mus tache, named Johnson. “I believe I’ll visit the Yahoo. Same old conditions; rooms like hog-pens, and sanitary conditions even worse. New College is next. Bobby Park on the third floor. Park, the fresh man’s friend, with the wagging tongue and erratic brain. Park, the revolutionize^ the stink-stirrer. Let me give you some advice, Bob; close your mouth, ’tend to your own business, quit trying to curry favor on both sides of every controversy, and you will be a val uable man. As for poor old in competent Steve, why, folks say he so I’ll leave him alone. Goodness knows that is the only considera tion that induces me to do it, for if there ever was a man universal ly conceded to be incompetent, it is Jim Stephenson. “Billy Hooper, he of the phono graph voice and the odoriferous pipe, occupies the same office on second floor. Billy you’ve waked up this year and seem really to have got some work out of your students so I wont sting you. As for Bocock, his case is different. A man with a brain like his ought to be a power for good instead of a drone in the hive. Forget your rheumatism, throw away your pipe, cork up your bottle, interest your self in affairs outside your depart ment, and all will be well. “Jimmy Lawrence, wild, harmless Jimmy, hasten away to your theo logical seminary. God never in tended you for a teacher. * !‘'lYY V0 - u M° n . Ijg'-iyvt you \t4j_ been In e a long time and haven’t yet learned American ways and American customs. Some say it’s because your brain is dazed with claret and your body soaked with nicotine. Just as a matter of benefit to those concerned, hadn’t vou better go back to your pleas ant peasant life in France? “Now' over in Moore College things are not so bad. It’s true that Griggs is characterized by a love for smutty jokes, but he’s a fair instructor and as good a drill master as the present farce de serves. Charlie Strahan holds forth to a favored few up here still, I see. He certainly is not an as piring personality, but he’s a good little man, takes an interest in col lege affairs, and would be a power for good if the students could but know him. “Prof. Patterson needs some thing to wake him out of his leth argy. He’s honest and straight, but a horrible bore with his ever lasting twaddle about electrics and athletics. Wake up Pat, there are other things in the world besides Toepler Holtz machines and foot ball fields. ‘‘In the Ivy building,” qnoth the Bee, "Silvjr Morris still I see.” “I forgot to visit his brothe- Johu in New College, I under swallowing tobacco juice, that he] has acted more like a human! being, and less like a bear with stl sore foot, than he used to. John is a good man but grouchy. 11 have les9 patience with Sylvanus | He has brains, plenty of them, bu| they are of small avail against hi brutal meanness, and overbeari® actions. He treats everyone as if I they were his inferiors, and to sit in his lecture room and hear the f stream of filthy language and vilel jokes which issue from his sewer-l like mouth, is enough to make! pure morals and good manners re-| volt. The code of morality among! bumble bees is not high, but wel wouldn’t let Silvy handle our garJ bage. “Judge Cobb is a lovable old I man, who has outlived his useful-] ness. He’s insane on two or thril subjects, and beats the youth of our land out of $75 per annum imieiHcTms 'nnpassK^od 'diatnhtl on Secession. Take a bumbl] bee’s advice and retire the judf, on a pension. “Down to the library buildl flew the Bumble Bee and paid visit to a man whom he characti ized as follows: “Polly Me., Ik McPherson, with the three initil and the peanut soul. A mail whose influence upon all he cornel in contact with is to impress then] with his stingy soul. A man whJ (pinches every dollar till the 'screams, who never expended cent in any charitable pursui) who uever helped a friend, man who’ll never walk the gold*- streets for fear of wearing out l| gold. Such a malformation J Polly is does very well as a teachiJ of history, but as an example t(| students, never.” The good bumj ble bee was quite wroth, nor wn his anger cooled, when he went ii| to the library and saw a numbf of fieshman playing tag wh| Miss Puss Frierson cried out “<A dy, candy, 5 cents a bag. Hurry^l hurry, hurry, and help build that| Episcopalian steeple,” while a fevi Btudents in search of kuowledgf sat with stopped ears, and wrinl led foreheads. “Now wouldn’^ make you mad?” he said, brary that is a half breed betl