THE BATTALION
11
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DAY OR NIGHT.
You are also Invited to Spend a Pleasant Hour
BOWLING
Phone 666
Phone 303
+—
FORECASTS OF THE WEATHER
(Associated Clean and Pressed
Reports).
College Station and vicinity:
Bryan: Clear and dowdy; peaceful
and grape-juice.
Weather Conditions and
Highway Bulletin:
A disturbance was sweeping over
the fish-tank and down as far as
Brazos Bottom the night of the Jun-
ion Banquet. It was attended by
moderate and frequent precipita
tions. At time of report snow was
slightly mist and rain was dew on the
southern coast of Kansas.
Fair weather was reported from
observation post at Benchley and
also Houston Post as far back as
Reagan which has not as yet been
posted.
Slight disturbances are showing up
in the Republican Party and dark
clouds are Hoovering over. It is
reported that King George is now
reigning in the British Isles but
there does not seem to be much
hailing' in Texas—for Joe Bailey.
A decided fall of temperature oc
curred this morning in the Physics
Building when A. Fish dropped the
thermometer. However, a notice
able pick-up was observed.
Automobiles leaving today will
have pleasant weather—weather go
ing to Bryan or Union Hill as no
Impassable roads were reported.
This winds up our article and
watch:
Local Data, April 8, 1920.
Dyne. * (Note below).
Temperature — Won Degree.—
Dyne*.
Lowest—Centigrade.
Highest—Fahrenheit (Fair in
height).
Wind—[In a Brackett].
State of Weather—Texas.
* Barometer reading if read fast
reads: “To see ’em press’er—dy
ing.”
Observed by
JONAS & RAMSEY.
Note: Jonas and Ramsey are two
pioneers in these parts and their
data is substantial to four decimal
places (not counting a place called
the Mess Hall). Both have become
acquainted to local climatic condi
tions and take great pleasure in talk-
about their relative humidity. In fact
both of them were instrumental in
causing Ex-Governor Ross to run.
AMONG THE CLUBS
Not long since there was organ
ized the C. C. Club and their motto
was: “Don’t be a pill. This is far
from a secret organization and the
C. C. means something else. It
stands for the Casey Campus Club
alias the S. O. L. Club.
The founders of said organization
are among the most promising of the
Junior class although it is said that
the first spark was furnished
by Bill Sparks.
The purpose of the club is to cre
ate a feeling of friendship, sociabil
ity and co-operation among the stu
dents of this glorious institution.
This is where the cadet who is heavy
laden—with cash—may go and be
relieved. Cordiality reigns supreme.
Many are they who greet him, who
either because of criminal negli-
gense or his own accord, has hap
pened upon this den of mammon.
A reception committee awaits the
least sign of opulence. The entire
Club is on the committee.
The beauty of this organization is
that one does not begin to enjoy the
privileges of membership until he be
comes a full-fledged and full-fleeced
member. Then there arises in his
bosom the love of club, and without
exhortation he goes forth in search
of anyone whom he deems worthy
(materially) of becoming his ally in
depredations upon the thick malteds
et cetera.
The longevity of this club is in
the balance because of the supply of
eligibles is rapidly decreasing and
Casey does not wish his lace of
business to be used for a club head-
quarters.
SPRING
When spring comes ’round, my brain
won’t work,
I never get things right.
It makes me want to rave and shout,
And fool away the night.
And spring has come again, I know,
I feel it in the air.
I hear the milch cow singing low
Beneath the new moon’s glare.
I see the purple daisies
Blooming in the clear blue trees;
And the golden brawn blue-bonnets
Form a carpet o’er the breeze.
And at night when stars are shining,
From the emerald colored skies,
I’m reminded by their buzzing
Of the bull frog in your eyes.
I hear the gentle lowing
Of the song birds in the hay.
They recall to mind the songs you
sang
Before I went away.
And when I think of your bright
face—
The moonlight on your hair,
The red-hot tears roll down my back
Like rats run down the stair.
It’s spring, I guess; my brain won’t
work—
I want to rave and shout!
These lines seem queer, but, just
what’s wrong
I can’t quite figure out.
Though grand the organ’s thunder
roll,
Though sweet the twanging lute,
We’d rather hear our winter’s coal
A—rumbling down the chute.
—Boston Transcript.
Though grand the organ’s thunder
roll,
Though sweet the twanging lute.
We’d rather hear old “Catfish” say:
“Open up those gills and root.”
We hai/e VI
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