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THE UNIVERSITY BUMBLE-BEE.
TO PHILLIPI.
Lieutenant-Colonel Charles M. Srielling
Commanding Corps Cadets and Adjunct
Professor Mathematics, University
of Georgia.
My Dear “Phil”:—
For some time I have been think
ing of writing you in regard to some
matters which I know to be of the
utmost importance to you in your
high position. But before I enter
upon a discussion of those things
which seem to me to be worthy of
your highest consideration, I desire
to say that nothing but the high
regard which I have for your eleva
ted calling and the inordinate love
which I feel for your personal
character could ever induce me to
take this step. Feeling then that
you will accept these suggestions in
a kind and generous spirit, I shall
proceed to take up in detail some of
the objections to your method of
teaching after which I shall refer to
some trifling and insignificant blem
ishes in your personal character.
Meaning this letter for your eye
only, I shall speak quite freely.
In the first place, my dear “Phil,”
your personal bearing in the class
room is very offensive and con
temptuous. When you stalk into
the class room to meet the Sopho
mores for the lii'st time, youi
assumed dignity and unpardonable
haughtiness beget in the minds of the
students such a feeling of awe and’
reverence that can not fail to be con
verted into bitter hatred and utter
disgust when your pretendedness is
known. So, “Phil,” you see the
great necessity of being natural.
Affectation is a|baneful thing in any
one, but how despicable it becomes
when practiced by a Professor of a
State University. Then do try to be
natural, even if it makes an ass of
you.
Again, “Phil,” and I say it in all
seriousness, that system of bluffing
which you have adopted in order to
frighten students into spasmodic
nightmares and to make them gulp
down more “math” than they can
digest is unwise and cruelly in
jurious. I am told that students
retiring after attempting to prepare
recently a rumor that your relations
with the Summer School of Mathe
matics are not worthy of the greatest
praise I am told that you were
most dilatory and negligent in re
gard to your manifest duties, and
that rather than discharge your
office as it deserved, you were in the
habit of passing men on very poor
and undeserving examinations.
Now, “Phil,” no one believes you
did this because of the paltry com
pensation you received, but it is
evident that “there is something
rotten in the state of Denmark,”
and also that you should be a man
even though the occasion seem not
to demand it.
But the above evil fades into utter
pressed enough of the accurate
science into your capacious cranium
to distort your reason and unhinge
your judgment, like the sow that
knows not when she is satisfied, you
hied yourself to Germany and there
completed the work of devastation
and ruin already set in. What fools
these mortals be! if you just had
known when to stop, perhaps you
would have been a perfect man
to-day. But for fear that you may
think me dictatorial in my sugges
tions, I will bring my remarks to a
close, hoping that you can see your
way clear to turn from the error of
your way before it is everlastingly
too late. I beg to remain,
Yours in great anguish,
CON. CERN.
insignificance when compared with j
the one that is to follow. You ; P. S.— Do not forget to bootlick the
seem to distrust every member of | Trustees when they meet, for that is
every
your class, and to make the matter
more odious, you have taken certain
students into your confidence in
order to force them, if possible, to
act as your official spies. Now,
“Phillipi,” it is bad enough to
place no confidence in your classes,
but it is infinitely more outrageous
to attempt to force members of those
distrusted classes to inform on their
comrades. “Phil,” stop and think.
And in line with the preceding,
you seem to regard every man as a
grand rascal until he has proved
himself to " be immaculate. I see
but ope explanation for all this, and
I shall proceed to give it in full.
You know that it is perfectly natural
for an individual who is himself a
rascal and a villian to think that
all other individuals are the same.
This is a fundamental principle of
human nature and explains many
of the opinions that men entertain
in regard to their fellows. Now
upon this idea, I think that we are
forced to the conclusion that you
yourself are the rascal, and the per
son unworthy of trust, and not the
students as you would fain have us
believe. Then, “Phil,” there is a
loose screw in you, and if you will
tighten that up just a few notches,
probably the running gear of your
mental propensities will work with
ease and in greater harmony.
But after all, “Phil,” I do not
know but that you deserve to bepitied
one of your unreasonable recitations rather than censured. The subject
have the most frightful dreams of that you have to teach may have
analytical and geometrical propor- something to do with the mental
tions. It is often amusing and j aberrations to which you are subject,
sometimes pitiable to hear the poor j In fact, I think It quite possible
little Sophs tell in plaintive tones
of their experiences with you.
the only means whereby you can
hope to hold your job. If you are
unskilled in the art of bootlicking,
observe the courteous actions of
“Peggy” Boggs and Harry White.
C. C.
BALLAID OF MCPHERSON’S CHASE;
Or, a Scotchman's Tardy Appreci
ation of a Joke.
’Twas late and the electric light,
But enhanced the darkness of the night,
When McPherson in his lonely cell,
Had sought the rest he earned so well.
Of noble race McPherson sprung,
All Scotland with their valor rung,
And scarce a tree but whence had hung
One of that noble name,
Who, living, ere swinging in the air
Had o’er all Scotland spred despair,
And, dying, spread their fame.
Late that night had McPherson read
The story of old McPhersons’ dead,
And shutting out the cool night air,
He dozed and dreamed in his old arm
chair.
He saw himself in his vivid dreams
With McPherson’s warriors by Scotland’s
streams.
Sans breeches and in tartans loud,
He rode in most distinguished crowd,
The most distinguished person.
Full in his Highland costume clad,
The envy of each wondering lad,
The pride of Clan McPherson.
And lofty pride his heart did fill,
As dashing through many a Highland rill,
His warriors he led to battle,
And over many a Highland hill,
He chased the Lowland cattle.
But as he dreamed, through the window
Leave off your bluffing and seek to
win the respect if not the admiration
of the boys by being a man entire.
There has come to my ears quite
that a man whose mind is so
thoroughly saturated with the dry
theories and incomprehensible for
mulae of higher mathematics is
afflicted with a moderate degree of
insanity. But after you had com-
A broken brick hurled with deadly aim,
With noise that seemed to him as deep
As the thunder that on Stirling’s plain
Foretells the stormy mountain rain,
And broken was the McPherson sleep
And shivering was the pane.
Waking, dazed, half-dreaming still,
McPherson felt the night air chill,
The noises mingling with dreams half-
formed,
He thought the McPherson stronghold
stormed.
Then defiance glanced from the McPher
son eye.
He waved the trusty broom on high,
And crying, '“Death to McPherson’s foe,
Police—to the rescue or I die.”
He dealt the chair a deadly blow,
Then slowly.to his senses brought,
He viewed the havoc the brick had
wrought.
He marked the brick upon the floor,
And filled with rage, he—locked the door.
But as no further cause for fright
Broke on the silence of the night,
Dropped from his hand the broken broom,
And stealthily he left the room,
And courage rising at seeing naught
That seemed to him with danger fraught,
With weighty poker in his hand
Behind a tree he took his stand.
Nor waited long, when on his sight
Dawned the form of the luckless wight,
Who trusting to the shadows thick
Had come to hurl another brick.
McPherson marked the marauder’s size,
And felt the McPherson blood arise,
And swore his foeman yet should feel
The weight of the McPherson steel.
The marauder, unconscious, nearer drew,
And another brick at the window threw.
Forth from his covert McPherson burst,
The stranger heard and feared the worst,
Gave out but one glance and headlong
fled,
While close on his track McPherson sped.
Fear to the startled youth lent speed,
And well it was for great his need.
For in early youth trained to the plough,.
And following daily the errant sow, .
And later, affluent, to the wheel,
McPhersons legs were limbs of steel.
And as faster yet the quarry flew,
Closer yet McPherson draw.
The youth felt the cigarette’s deadly grasp
And drew his breath in labored gasp.
On swept the chase, the flying pair,
Awakened the echoes in the air,
That borne aloft on the hollow wind,
Caused the youth, incautious, to glance
behind,
And stumbling fell headlong in the street,
And ere he could struggle to his feet,
With a single leap the distance spanned,
The youth felt on his neck the McPherson
hand.
“Ha, villian,” he cried, “And did’s’t
thou think,
Thus from McPherson’s rage to shrink?
And thinkest thou unscathed to go?
No, by Boggs the Chancellor, no.”
The youth who scarce could stand from
fright
Was dragged unto the nearest light,
And lost was revenge with the race
scarce won,
The captured youth proved a—
TRUSTEE’S son.
McPherson marked, and in his eyes
Perplexity mingled with surprise.
Died on his lips the curse, half-uttered,
(Well he knew where his bread was
buttered.)
He felt his head begin to throb.
Should he lose revenge, or lose his job?
But suddenly a smile o’er his countenance
broke,
“Ah ha,” he cried, “I see. A joke.”
The youth felt McPherson’s grasp relax
And waited not to state the facts,
Somewhat recovered from his fright
He hastly vanished in the night,
While McPherson to his room withdrew,
Thinking of all he had been through,
Viewed again the ruin the brick had done,
And laughed until laughing was no fun,
At the funny joke of the Trustee’s son.