THE BATTALION.
17
fful Mexican lion you may have heard
about, still ventured forth, testing our
•courage and “seeking whom he might
^devour.” The prairie appears almost
boundless, since no enclosure serves as
a line of demarcation and since the
irregular fringe of timber has already
put on the leaden hues of autumn; it
appears all the more dismal since
great clouds of grasshoppers—unwel
come visitors from Kansas —have
stripped it of every vestige of plant
growth, leaving nothing but the naked
ashen soil.
Twenty young men have arrived,
some from the pine woods of the east,
some from the extreme North, some
from the shores of the Gulf, and one,
at least, from the very banks of the
Itio Grande, to enter this, our first
State institution of learning. They
are quartered temporarily on the sec
ond floor of the mess hall, are eagerly
awaiting the opening of school, and
in the meantime are indulging in all
sorts of pranks to while away those
dreary hours of expectancy. “And
thereby hangs a tale.” Well indeed
do I remember the occurrence of that
night, in which it seemed as if all the
goblins and witches that once chased
poor Tam O’Shanter “ayant the brig”
had been turned loose once more. I
remember, but the telling I prefer
leaving to others.
Rogan and Banks and Crisp, who
were here then and are present to
night, will recall with me how our
footsteps resounded and re-echoed in
the long halls and corridors of the
main building when on the morning
of the first IMonday in October they
were thrown open to our occupancy;
they will remember the portentious
sound with which our “articles of
war,” the rules and regulations
of the college, fell upon our eager
ears; they will remember how hats,
pressed against window panes, served
as mirrors to those who were particu
lar about the tying of a cravat and the
parting of their hair and how- footf
tubs, did duty at all the ablutions of
the pioneer cadets.
Fine buildings, rich endowments and
costly furnishings do not make great
colleges or universities—-teachers and
students do. Socrates, walking arm in
arm with Plato in the grove of Aeade-
mas constituted a school of philoso
phy, the greatest the world has ever
known. More vividly even than mate
rial environments do we “old-timers”
recall the men who had been selected to
shape the destines of this the magnifi
cent Agricultural and Mechanical Col
lege of Texas, our first faculty: Presi
dent Gatbright, the rriend and confi
dante of Jefferson Davis, quick in
movement and quick of temper, perhaps
somewhat haughty in demeanor, but
ever ready to advise those who ap
proached him frankly as father would;
venerable, white-haired Dr. Martin,
whose Christian gentleness called forth
obedience and respect even from the
most unruly; Major Banks, kind of
heart, a true friend to every young
man. a ripe scholar, a perfect exemplar
of the southern gentleman;. Professor
Wand, smiling and placid as a day in
June, a veritable Chesterfield in every
word and act and gesture; Alexander
Hogg, the man of tireless energy, al
ways wrapt up in calculations, always
planning to use x y and sines and
cosines as levers in quickening the
world’s progress; lastly Major R. P.
W. Morris, the young man of the
faculty, a soldier every inch of him,
with a clarion voice whose command
ing tones would ring across the entire