4
THE BATTALION
THE BATTALION
Published every Wednesday night by the Students’ Association of the Agricultural
and Mechanical College of Texas.
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Entered as second-class matter at the post office at Bryan, Texas, under the Act of
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E. L. ANDREWS
R. H. SHUFFLER
W. C. MORRIS
H. C. GIVENS
A. PAEZ
J. M. HOLMES
P. A. DRESSER
F. W. THOMAS, JR. ..
W. T. COLEMAN
J. J. LOVING
H. W. TOEPPERWEIN
L. W. JOHNSTON
J. E. TEAGUE
J. M. GARCIA
Y. B. GRIFFIS
T. B. KETTERSON . .
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W. P. PATTON, JR.
L. HANKS
V. A. BUESCHER .
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CHANGE
“Change is not always progress but progress is always change.” In
this issue of the “Bat” a change is proposed that bears all the earmarks
of progress. If the plan proposed by the Senior Court meets with the
approval of the Board of Directors and is put into effect it will mark the
closing of a chapter in the history of the school and the opening of a
new one. In the past, efforts have centered on the retaining of the cus
toms, traditions, and environment of the preceding classes. Any change
was looked upon as being “radical.” The general attitude was not con
servative but reactionary and the school suffered from the inertia that was
the result. Perhaps in the future this unwarranted and undesirable feat-
ture of college life will change and the attitude will be one of open-
mindedness and a clear realization of the fact that change is a necessary
part of progress. It is not too much to suppose that the proposed change,
if put into effect, will mark the first paragraph in a new chapter of the
school’s history.
MALICIOUS MURDER
Monday evening dpring the delightful little spring shower and elec
trical display a sinister figure stalked our fair campus, and under cover
of the dark, protected by the furor of the wind and rain, perpetrated one
of the foulest of deeds. This wild and vicious stranger murdered in cold
blood one of our oldest and most honored friends.
Rumor, the degenerate offspring of Malicious Intent and Ignorance,
had slugged Dean Puryear and left him to drown in the gutter. Strange
how these things will spread.
MAUDLIN TEARS
Now that the end is but a few weeks (eight or nine) off, the standard
quip about the Senior at the final review who lost his onion is now in or
der. Few things are more disgusting than a six-foot sap shedding senti
mental spouts of salt water and wheezing out sighs that sound for ail
the world like a government jackass with the heaves over leaving some
thing he has been forced to spend from four to ten years with, and which
he has cursed bitterly and escaped as often as possible. What could be
more foolish than to come down here for four long years, cursing the
place and swearing undying hatred for all its various departments indi
vidually and collectively, and then forcing out a salty sea of tears and
a series of fog-horn sobs on the day of departure.
Another thing we will have to put up with, it is to be supposed, will
be the company commander who evinces the utmost surprise at receiving
the watch he has known for years every company would give to its com
mander. Then comes the great day when all the seniors line up and walk
down the ranks of the company and weep down the sweating necks of
the underclassmen they have rammed and beaten and cursed the whole
year long. It is on such times as this that the true brotherhood of old Ag-
gieland comes to the surface with a vim.
The only thing that bothers the writer on such times as these is the
wonder, just a small vague wonder, if this is all quite as real as it seems.
Do these men really love each other with an undying love ? Does this cap
tain really feel surprised that his men are giving him the same gift that
generations of Aggies have given their proud leaders ? And why, oh why,
should said captain shed real crocodile tears and blow boisterously into
his handkerchief just because the expected has happened ?
It might be added, that the writer, along with many of the readers
of this bunk, will probably find out June 4th. just what this is ail about.
We still have our doubts, but if anybody cries, we only hope it isn’t done
merely as a matter of form.
REQUEST POEM
The following poem v/ritten by
Mrs. Duke Burgess of Fort Worth,
Texas, was read at the banquet giv
en in that city in honor of Coach D.
X. Bible, and is herein published bj;
request.
How can we do without our Bible,
That we’ve trusted so very long?
How can we do without our Bible ?
How can we ever tell right from
wrong- ?
This Bible takes a bunch of raw re
cruits;
Men without training, seemingly
without heai-t.
Men that are gauky, men too stout,
How in the world can they even
start ?
But how this Bible does inspire
those men.
He uses their talents in every way.
Such wonderful teaching, very little
They learn for a lifetime every day.
This Bible teaches the big game of
life,
To co-ordinate the brawn with the
brain.
And if the goal they will reach
In the straight and narrow path for
it they must train.
This Bible tells us o’er and o’er that
should we win a game,
By any means but fairest play.
We’ve lost and ruined our name.
When the last quarter is nearly end
ed,
And we note the mounting score,
We utter a prayer of thanks for this
Bible,
Whose influence shall be hallowed
evermore.
This thought comes to me.
And it to you I will tell;
This Bible leaves us another com
forter,
And this comforter is Matty Bell.
MRS. DUKE BURGESS.
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