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THE UNIVERSITY BUHBLE-BEE.
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BRARY
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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