«
THE BATTALION
BUNK.
(A Tragedy in Two Acts Being an
Kxplanation. of the Recent Heavy
Rains).
ACT 1.
(A Professof English is sitting
at his desk in a recitation room. He
is absorbed in a book. He has reach
ed the Third Stage in teaching, hav
ing passed through the first, or in
terested stage; also the second, the
brow-beating, or antagonistic stage,
and the intermediate bored, or clock-
watching stage, which leads imper
ceptibly into the Third Stage, or
Complete Coma. He is harmless
when undisturbed (that is, out of
class). He welcomes interruptions
in class, as they serve to take up
time. The Professor has only one
ambition in life, and that is to have
an assistant to grade his papers and
call his class rolls, etc. He loves the
rest of teaching, as it requires him
only to talk, and at that, to talk only
about his own ideas. Outside his
classroom he never finds the helpless
ly passive audience that he has in
class. He loves to talk, particularly
about Oxford—that is the best des
cription of the Prof.)
(When the action begins, fifteen
Class Attenders and one Student en
ter and take their seats. The At
tenders are sophomores, some from
the engineering and some from the
agricultural schools. Their being
sophomores does not mean that this
is their second year in college. One
Attender is finishing his fourth year
in this same course under the Profes
sor. This has its advantages, as the
Professor can now, with very little
difficulty, read this Attenders writ
ing. The impression must not be
got that this fourth year attender is
dull,—unusually dull, that is to say.
The opposite is true. Four years ago,
the Prof, discovered in him the mak
ings of a student; so he kept him
while the more hopeless were passed
on, the Prof, realizing that if he
were to keep some of them even eight
years, he would still not be able to
read their writing. The Professor
expects this fourth year Attender to
develop into a student in perhaps two
more years.)
(The time of the play is during a
drought which occured last March.
The farmers, who are always appre
hensive, were becoming more so on
account of the drought, thinking that
the seeds in the ground would not
have enough moisture to cause them
to come up.)
Prof: Good morning, gentlemen;
I have a very important announce
ment to make to you this morning.
I have at last discovered a plan
whereby A. and M. students (and
Class Attenders also, of course) can
do something really valuable and
worth while. (The class show signs
of intense surprise, wonder, and
doubt.) In teaching you I often
wish for something that could be sub
stituted for English, as I regard the
task of getting the matter into your
heads as impossible. How much bet
ter you would do, for example, if
you could use ***** | n your col
lege work. I have never heard your
students talk more effectively than
when the circumstances permitted
*****_ b U £ g. e f. y OU j n {-^g c i ass _
room where such talk is excluded,
and you are at a total loss to express
your ideas. I would suggest that
some system that allowed the use of
this language be substituted for the
present course, but I should lose my
job, and I must live—
1st Attender: (Quoting Dr. John
son, though entirely unconscious of
the fact, being the average well-read
cadet). “Sir, I fail to see the neces
sity !'•'
2nd Attender: (Snapping his fing
ers and waving his hand in air) Fes-
ser! Say Fesser!
Prof.: All right, what is it?
2nd Attender: At the beginning
of the class you greatly interested us
by saying that we could do something'
useful—•
Prof: (Looking anxiously at his
watch). So I did, but in planning
my lecture for this class I intended
for that subject (whatever it was!)
to take up the first twenty minutes
of the period, and that time has pass
ed now, so I won’t have to use it. We
will—•
3rd Attender: But Fesser, you
said this could take the place of Eng
lish and that it was interesting.
Prof: O well, I have forgotten
now*.
6th Attender: You. were reading
a book when you came in,—maybe
what you were talking about was in
that.
Prof: (Takes up book and looks
through it, reading bits here and
there). Oh yes! I recall it now. I
lately discovered that my Japanese
was getting rusty, so I decided to
read old Japanese plays, especially
“The Love of Komachi, the Poetess”.
While chanting this drama to myself,
I came to the place where the natives
once went to a mountain and read
poems to one of their Rain-Gods, in
the hope of pleasing him to the ex
tent of his granting them a much-
needed shower. At the time they
were having a drought similar to the
present one. The poems were read
to this God and one was found good
enough to cause rain. The seed of
this episode fell on my fertile brain
and at once germinated, hatching the
idea I am about to give you. You,
Student, and Attenders of this class,
may each write a poem and at our
next meeting we can gather on the
hill and read poems again to this old
Jap God; and I am sure that if the
right poem is read, he will not fail
us in the present crisis.
Attenders: (all together) Great!
The prof is at last producing! Hooray
Wje will do it! etc., etc.
Prof: (looking at his watch, and
feeling secretly what the Attenders
are showing outwardly,—namely, a
deep satisfaction that the time is up)
Your time us up! Each of you write
a poem and we shall offer it for rain
on the hill at our next meeting.
ACT II.
(The news having been spread
broad-cast over the College, the Fac
ulty and ladies, the President and
the Deans, along with a great crowd
of Class Attenders and a few Stu
dents, are on hand at the hill) One
great secret desire has brought forth
this mass of people, and that is to
see education, as taught at A. and
M., vindicated. They have come as
pessimists, having long ago given up
hope of seeing their cherished dream
come true. The Agriculturists are
looking for a good excuse for Ag
riculture, and on this day, they are
hoping to get something that will
give them ground to stand on. The
Engineers present cherish a similar
ambition. They have one constant
dread and they know secretly that
they will never remove the cause of
this fear. They never enjoy eating
for being afraid that some day they
may swallow a seed, which, once
swallowed, will sprout in the dirt
they have taken into their systems
by driking college water. But this
day, they feel sure that the Engi
neering Attender’s poem will win,
and then when a college building
falls and the agriculturists jibe at
them, they can say, “Who caused the
rain to fall on your crops?” With
such secret yearnings, all classes are
thus on hand.
The day is clear, with not a could
in the sky. It is a week later than
Act I. The people have regarded
the occasion as a sort of outing, and
the women are showing off their new
est Spring clothes.
The proof is fifteen minutes late,
but his class are all on hand, poems
in hand).
Student: (nervous over prof’s
delay). What are we to do? the
prof is to read the poems, and he is
not here?
Commandant: See if you can
find the prof. The people are be
coming restless.
1st Attender: (from. ag group,
looking over the crowd). What a
pity we did not charge admission, so
that we could raise money to send
our Ant-bear Judging Team to Bra
zil!
1st Prof of Sheep (to 2nd prof of
Sheep). Have you read the new
book of Unoa’s on docking sheep
tails?
2nd Prof of Sheep (showing great
interest). Yes, I most certainly do
not agree with the author. I am un
reservedly for the sharp knife. Why,
wha' 1 ; does—•
1st Prof of Sheep (becoming heat
ed). Do you mean to say you favor
the sharp knife? What about our
recent five hundred experiments
where hot irons were used? You
should—•
(A bunch of engineers here drown
out the Ags).
Concrete Prof: I say the 1:2:6
mixture.
Architectural Prof: (almost in
tears) a thousand noes! It must be
1:3:4.
M. E. Prof: (with restrained indig
nation). You are wrong! Anybody
knows it should be 1:2:5.
The Crowd (noisily). Yonder he
comes! Now for a rain!
(In the distance the prof is seen
coming down the road, carrying an
umbrella and a raincoat. As he en
ters the crowd, he is at once impress
ed with its great size, and being used
to no notice at all, from people out
side his classes, he visibly swells with
self-satisfaction and importance.)
Prof: Sorry to have caused the
delay, but I was waiting in my class
room, having forgotten all about this
meeting. (Here his voice expands
to an oratorical rotundity that sur
prises himself and would do any poli
tician credit). Without further de
lay, all of you knowing the purpose
of this meeting, we can begin the
reading of the poems. First, I shall
read yours. Student. (Student hands
in poem).
“A boy stood under an apple tree,
Two hours there he stopped;
He opened his mouth from ear to
ea.*,
But never an apple dropped.
(Silence—the sky gets brighter.
Nearest thing to rain is a few tears
shed by a sentimental stenographer
in the crowd).
Prof (undaunted) :__Now I’ll read
yours, First Attender.
(Reads)
“The tunnel is built by engineers,
“So is the railroad track;
But Heaven forbid that the train
go through
And not find its own way back.
O, the engineers
Would shed no tears.
That isn’t the way with engineers.
But three loud cheers
For the engineers,
Who’d build a double track,
For then it’s plain
That any train,
Would find its own way back.
(Rough thunder, with a few bolts
of lightning).
Prof, (to Second Attender) : I’ll
read yours now.
(Reads)
For four long years he studied the
soil.
Then he planted the seed of an
onion;
He hoed the ground, he plowed
around,
His feet were one great bunion.
(A cloud appears)
Incidentally, the ground produced
several pecks of onions.
(The cloud disappears hurriedly).
Prof: I shall read yours, 6th At
tendee.
(Reads)
Anna Maria, fresh and fair.
Sky-blue ears, and dimpled hair,
Wrinkled cheeks and knock-kneed
chin,
Anna Maria, your toes turn in!
(One or two women and Clarence
Braden faint).
Prof, (beginning to lose faith).
Give me yours. Ninth Attender.
(Reads)
Barley, barley, wheat and straw,
Forty bottles is the law—
(At the second word in the last
line, several cheers come from the
crowd).
Fill ’em full of whiskey neat,
(Decided sensation of an agree
able nature among the older mem
bers of the faculty).
Put ’em under the flivver seat
(D. X. Bible looks self-conscious)
Drive right down Magnolia street.
And the second house from the end
Is where I live,
Bring ’em right in.
(Loud thunder and a few clouds)
Prof, (looking at several poems,
and returning them with a sad nod
of the head, looking at the crowd,
then seeing his embrella and his
raincoat, he realizes that he must not
fail. In desperation, he calls for the
last poem, that of the “dull” 15th
Attender). I shall read yours, 15th
Attender,—you are our last hope.
(Read in a resigned tone).
Hark, the herald angels sing.
“BEECHAM’S PILLS are just the
thing—•
(The whole sky becomes overcast)
Two for man, and one for child,
(Loud muttering of thunder, a
vivid flash a lightning, and a few
drops of rain).
Pleasure sweet and mercy mild!”
(Heavy sheets of rain—a cloud
burst!)
(As the curtain slowly falls, peo
ple are seen running for shelter. In
the rear appears the Prof., leisurely
walking away, his solitary faith in
the experiment being now justified
by the usefulness of his coat and um
brella. He is deeply absorbed in
reading a Chinese drama, so that he
may be prepared in case it should
become necessary to stop the rains,
and also in order to prevent his Chi
nese from becoming rusty).
I WM. B. CLINE, M. D. I
Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat T
Over A. M. Waldrop’s Store 4
BRYAN, TEXAS I