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THE MAROON TIGER
Page 7
SHOTS FROM THE HOSS - PISTOL
By L. A. Murphy, ’33
The Sophomores have achieved something—the al
leged “triple-threat” did succumb. As a regretted con
sequence, I should be able to give the public the “low-
down” on what went on in the Morehouse section of
that extremely popular resort known as the Infirmary.
From my point of view, the South Ward is one of
those sequestered spots in which very little is seen but
a great deal is heard depending entirely upon the num
ber and calibre of the inmates.
Finding myself committed to this much-avoided re
sort I immediately summoned up all the optimism that
a staunch-down exponent of adaptability could rally.
I was resolved that, although I had surrendered to the
“Medico”, I would enjoy myself as much as possible.
So it was with a blithe spirit that I took my reserva
tion in the ward.
I found that I was not alone in my misery for next
door snored the good “Rev.” T. J. K. No malicious
intent prompts me to assure you that only a mild at
tack of the current fad, “flu” and not another smash-up
of our Dean’s car was his only logical excuse for being
present.
Next day brought reinforcements in the person of
Mr. B. J. M., a debating colleague of the good “Rev.”,
both famous for their vain attempt to belittle the Fresh
man forensic abilities. Mr. B. J. M. entertained with an
inexhaustable supply of first hand African scandal (po
litical and social). It took more than mild persuasion
to convince this member that soda-water was not an
intoxicating beverage.
I guess my inability to contract the “flu” persuaded
the Staff to move me into a private room which ad
journed the ward. There I was to suffer the pangs of
isolation, but not for long as the inconvenient communi
cation was quite adequately overcome by vociferous con
versation and unregistered visitation.
A day or so of earnest prayers brought us the bless
ing of having our already dignified assemblage aug
mented by the person of Mr. H. G., a “grad” student
in the English Department and a true devotee of Shake
speare. Literature had its moments only to give way
to those more practical discussions out from which Mr.
H. G. always emerged with the trite expression, “After
all, fellows, you know I am a much-married man. ”
A shuffling of feet, wheezing and groaning, and bois
terous laughter heralded the arrival of the College Bar
ber, Col. C. A. B., who soon assured us that he came
not to shear locks—but to seek solace from the on
slaught of pneumogastric ravages. The ill-fated bed
sagged desperately under the two hundred plus piled
upon its delicate frame. Business picked up imme
diately and although, as usual, no one could get a word
in edge-ways, the Colonel brought forth much laughter
and applause as he rambled on and on into the night
with his many fantastic stories of adventure (real and
imagined). I recall the tragic episode of how our good
friend was kicked from a north bound Pullman last
June during his turbulent voyage home. There was
also a great deal of pathos in his tale of how he ar
rived where he thought home to he only to find him
self seventeen miles on the wrong side of Norfolk.
The Freshman reprobate, that “ringer of bells,” who
seeks to raise Morehouse at the ungodly hour of 4
A. M., found himself an ample place in our midst. Can
hospital treatment instill any sense of punctuality into
a person from Milton, Pa.?
We read Argosy, we read Popular Science, yes, we
even read Good Housekeeping and yet dissatisfaction. We
soon broke the spell, however, with a flood of corres
pondence the maintenance of which put all available
members of the Infirmary staff into messenger service.
Literary ability floundered and a barrage of “What
have you?” and “ Cheerio!” swept the field. Of course,
it was, just as, one fair co-ed would call it, “an ab
sorbing infantile past-time.”
A series of comings and goings deposited Captain
V. C. “Red” S. upon one of the many cots (almost
beds). This nonchalant and quite indifferent person
makes a ludicrous sight when spralled out upon a hos
pital bed. Between his “I ain’t got no’s” and “I wan-
na’s'’—the nurse w r as quite busied. We doffed our hats
to the immediate response his presence provoked for
this same person was the envied recipient of a more
than generous shower of apples, oranges, ice cream,
candy, etc. (There must be some practical value in
maintaining a host of feminine admirers.)
Late arrivals included the sonorous second tenor of
our quartet. Poor fellow, his heart was shattered —
really he suffered only from lack of feminine sympa
thy. (Miss C. M., how could you be so cruel?) This
welcome member with the aid of our assistant sports
editor filled the air of the entire vicinity with two days
of incessant crooning. As soon as the crooners’ tempera
ture dropped to normal, the Staff, eagerly, gave him
dismissal. There was a gentle murmur, a sigh, a groan,
and hours of snoring which exuded from beneath the
covers before we could assure ourselves that the man
wdthout pajamas was our good friend D. W. from Vir
gin Islands.
And so, in such fashion, my time in the “almost
psychopathic” ward drew to a welcome close. I “took
up my bed and walked.” (I must admit that the quite
pretentious bundle of belongings could have, as the
Nurse imagined, included not only a bed, but also a
couple of chairs.
To those who will visit this sequestered realm, I can
only say that Sunday with its chicken and ice cream
comes only once a week. If one can exist on soup—
soup and beef tongue lightened by biscuits for a six
day period—there is some hope for recovery.
As a gentleman, I’m forced to admit that the In
firmary is a well-conducted and respectable place. The
bedlam we sought to establish was dissolved in our de
parture.
A DREAM
(Continued from Page 6)
“Your prayer has been heard, my friend, and I have
been sent to aid you. Take these and defend yourself.
With this gun you may slay all of your enemies, no
harm shall befall you with this shield before you.”
“The Devil!” cried the exasperated musician, “No
encumberances!! MAN, GIVE ME MORE SPEED.” and
stretching forth his limbs to greater effort, he left his
heavenly visitor far behind, his legs moving at a rate
that would make Mercury himself turn blue with mor
bid embarrassment.
The End