L. H. POWELL, 43 Goodwin Hall
Has a fine line of College Jewelry of all kinds, also carries a large supply of pillow tops,
pennants and posters. Watches Repaired. All work guaranteed.
Agent — Jno. M. Caldwell, Bryan, Texas
AMONG THE JANITORS.
Not very many of us know that our
janitors have their mimic colonel, staff,
and so forth, and so forth, as well as
their ram list, and so forth, and so
forth, and so forth, and that they use
their belts, or rather boards (as belts
are scarce among them), just as SOME
of us do. Not many of us know this;
but the Bull does. It all happened on
the day and evening of that dark and
foreboding twenty-first of February.
On the morning of that ever-mem-
orable day. Skinny Jim of the “Broom
and Dust Pan Club” was just putting
the finishing touches to the dormitory
and was standing on the steps, when
along came Jane, Possum Face’s af
finity. Down looked Skinny and up
looked Jane. Then down came Jim
and there they were. Well, that would
not have mattered so much had not
Ham of the “Pointed Stick Brigade”
happened around the corner just at
that moment. No one on the campus
can despise another more than the
members of these two organizations
despise each other.
As Ham rounded the corner, he
dropped his tools, shoved his old derby
on the hack of his head and stared
away in utter amazement; Skinny Jim
—Jane—Possum Face—affinity. All
this floated through his mind while he
stared. Here, then, was his chance to
get even. He well knew what a jeal
ous nigger that Possum Face was; so
he would just have it read out on the
ram list all about Skinny and Jane.
Skinny and Jane finally parted after a
lingering handshake. Ham came out
of his coke and picked up his tools to
go to the next hall.
That evening as the day was grow
ing dim they collected in the little
storeroom next to the Commandant’s
office to stow away their tools. There
was joking and shoving and much talk
as they were about to leave. Just then,
however, thick, heavy-set Husky spoke
out; he was the “cap’n and adj’tant.”
“High! Wait a min’it. I ain’t read the
ram list yit. An’ I got a ram what’ll
make yo’ll set up and took notic’.”
There were jests at the coming fun,
then all lapsed into a state of mock
gravity. Some seated themselves on
boards, others on boxes and some
stood up; but there was one who
edged toward the door.
The long inky-black colonel spoke
up: “Hay dere. Ham! Come back here
closer. Mr, Sargant-at-Ahms, min’ de
doh! If any of dese rams is serious
we’ll need dis precautious. Cap’n, read
de repo’ts.”
“Attention to de ram repo’ts. Ah
ain’t got but one ram, dough.” Then
he read from a sheet of paper: “Skinny
Jim—Alleniatin’ wit’ de affections of
Possum Face’s affinity.”
At this Possum Face came off his
barrel. “Look here, nigger, you been
aleniatin’ wif ma affinity?”
Skinny backed off and made positive
denial.
“Naw, sir! NAW, SAH! I jus’ had
heard da yo’ an’ her wuz a gwine to
git married an’ I wuz jes congratcher-
latin’ her.”
“How ’bout dat, Mr. Adj’tant,” broke
in the colonel, “who put in dat repo’t?”
“Old Ham,” said Husky.
“Ham, come up fo’ward. Did yo’ see
dat nigger DELIBERATELY aleniatin’
wif dat man’s gal?”
Ham, stepping closer, “Dat I did. Dat
I di. Jus’ as Ah wuz a-comin’ Youn
“Shut up,” ejaculated the colonel,
“dats enough proof. De gentlemen of
de jury will now vote on the punish
ment ob dis culprit. Yo’ all has heard
de corroboratin’ ob testimony by Mis
ter Ham. Ah, myself, me moves dat we
git ten licks apiece of’n him.”
There was one grand chorus of as
sent. The sergeant-at-arms did his
duty, and Skinny was placed secruely
over a barrel.
All this happened on that stormy
banquet day, the day that we bid de
fiance to all. The Commaadanf sat in
his office that dreary afternoon pon
dering how the Sophs should be han
dled. They were a jolly good bunch,
after all, he concluded, and he’d let
them have their fling.
“Thwach!” “Whach!” “Slap!”
“Ouch! Stop!” He strained his ears.
Dared they strap a Freshman under
his very nose. He rushed out into the
hall. No one there. “Thwack!
Thwack!” “Stop! Ouch!” Ah! they
had him in the janitors’ storeroom. He
rushed to the door, and throwing his
mighty bulk against its frail timbers,
burst inward.
“Into my office, every one of you!”
he thundered. Someone collided with
him, but with a shove and a push this
one also was sent on his way. Groping
in the dark, one after another, he sent
them post-haste into his office. Then
he struck a match—all were gone.
Somewhat cooled by now, he strode
into his office. And there, cowering
before him (instead of brutal Sophs)
was the entire black janitor force.
'*r
oMA/uja mm -
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A DISH OF
. HASH.
In this, my autobiography, I will not
tell you where I was born or who were
my parents, because I do not know—
no one knows. Of my early days I
know nothing; I seemed suddenly to
spring into existence. And yet there is
not a companion or friend about me
with whom I am not related. One sig
nificant fact is, that at supper time I
am always with you.
I am held in high esteem by the
fierce uniformed creatures that hang
around my home. My friend and I live
in one great room. Three times a day
they put me on something hot and we
are kept there a long time. Then we are
taken off, put in curiously shaped ves
sels and carired to a large white plain.
Here the vessels in which we travel
are put down at different places on
the white plain and we are allowed to
cool. Just about this time those fierce
creatures in gray uniforms surround
the plain and begin to devour all my
companions. They all scrutinize me
carefully, smell of me a time or so
and then set me in the center of the
plain. This only goes to show how
much I am liked. After the first in
spection I am never bothered.
After the creatures have eaten all
my companions they leave. Then the
creature who brought me out here
comes and takes me back to the big
room in which I live.
I have never been able to under
stand just what it is all about. I have
been treated this way for over thirty
years now. From time to time, as I
shrink on account of evaporation,
some new material is added to me;
but I am just the same now as I was
thirty years ago. I am never eaten
and have never been in any great dan
ger in this respect. When the big ani
mals come to the big plain to feed I
hear them say: “Hey, Fish! Shoot the
hash. Thank you! Now kindly shoot
it back.”
t N
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