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THE BATTALION
ffhrSattalion
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
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known to some member of the staff.
L. W. JOHNSTON
J. M. GARCIA
S. C. GIESEY
Y. B. GRIFFIS . . .
P. A. DRESSER . . .
C. WILLIAMS
F. R. McKNIGHT .
R. L. HERBERT . . .
C. V. ELLIS
J. A. BARNES
C. M. BLOCK
M. H. HOLLOWAY
S. A. ROELOFS
EDITORIAL STAFF
Editor-in-Chief
Managing Editor
Associate Editor
Associate Editor
Sports Editor
Associate Editor
Assistant Sports Editor
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. . .' Assistant News Editor
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Associate News Editor
Columnist
Columnist
LESTER HANKS
D. W. SHERRILL
J. A. REYNOLDS
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Business Manager
Assistant Business Manager
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MORE GRIPES.
One nice thing about human nature is that it is long suffering. An
average human being has to endure much before he is finally goaded into
frenzy—that is, induced to take action which should have been taken long
before. We sometimes wonder, considering all this, just how long our
Aggie Brethren are going to continue to smother and stifle in the As
sembly Hall. We went to the show a few nights ago in all good faith,
and, with our usual optimistic expectancy, cheerfully sat down to await
the slaughter of the luckless villian by the intrepid John Gilbert. Imagine
our consternation then, when, just after all the adds had been carefully
counted aloud by the corps, and all the ancient slides depicting vuluptu-
ous females had been violently applauded in the quaint old Aggie fashion,
we began to suffer from asphixiation. We wanted to enjoy the show. We
wanted to be one with our comrades, who were by that time demonstrat
ing the vast gulf between civilization and savagery by rythmically stamp
ing on the floor, vainly striving to catch the cadence’ of the electric pick*
up. They did not seem to mind the lack of oxygen and hte heat, being
he-men, perahps, but we had to sally forth for air. Art is art, verily,
but the Black Hole of Calcutta is no place to watch the scintillating of
cinema stars.
ENVIRONMENT AND THE MIND.
“Intelligence is not increased by going to college, nor is it an acci
dent.” The preceding statement is one that Dr. Donald A. Laird, director
of Colgate University psychological laboratory, has just made in regards
to a college education.
“Parents with brains much above the average have children with
brains much above the average,” says Dr. Laird. Brains seem quite defi
nitely to be inherited just as eye color, sature, and temperament. College
men have more brains than he man on the street because they had more
brains in the first place, and therefore came to college.
No one-knows just what qualities and characteristics a person inherits,
but it is known definitely that the brain, at birth, of all normal persons has
the same number of fissures, and that the amount of intelligence and
education a person acquires throughout life increases these fissures. On
the other hand, even though a person may inherit certain tendencies, if
he is placed in a different environment to these tendencies, the influence
of the environment will overcome what traits he may have, unless the
mind is unbalanced. The statement that Dr. Laird makes concerning the
idea that it is the men with more brains who come to college is indeed
faulty. Many a brilliant high school graduate never has the opportunity
of continuing his education on account of finances or illness. However,
the moment a college graduate is introduced into a group of men of his
age, the contrast can be seen quite easily.
A man may inherit certain permanent physical characteristics, and
even some temporary tendencies, but as to his degree of inherited intelli
gence, there has nothing been proved contrary to the settled and establish
ed belief that all men at birth have the same degree of intelligence, and
that this is increased relatively to the amount of education.
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CONCERNING PROGRESS.
Abou ben Adhem, it is written, was one who loved his fellow men.
He loved them as they were, and he did not worry about what they wore,
or where they were going or when they died. He liked to see them smoke and
be comfortable. Abou ben Adhem was no architect of the future (May his
tribe increase) and if present conditions irked him at times, he probably
took a little sentimental morphine and dreamed of something better, stor
ing the revelations away until an opportune moment should come when he
could reveal them to his friends.
It is unfortunate that all of us are not like Abou. The world would
be pleasantly dead then, and we could go happily on with the old lines
without having to kick Progress on ahead of us.
For perhaps that is what this latent anarchy and blatant heresey al
ready striding through the campus mean. The annual war against conven
tion and tradition is imminent again, maybe, and the intelligent minority
is preparing to be crushed by the contented majority as of old—
Human progress belongs rather low in the scale of things—down with
the Crustacea—and it is difficult to tell at any given moment whether the
big, clumsy, lumbering creature is coming or going, for, like a crab, it
moves unexpectedly. Then, too, Progress has but one method of growth,
and that is by periodically bursting the tough shell of tradition and dogma
with which it is cursed, forming a new and more comfortable shell of the
same materials under vulnerable and perilous conditions, and then, during
a period of quiescence and peace, filling the new shell. Abou would have
humored such a creature, but there are those among us who endeavor to
hasten the transitions at shell-bursting time by breaking off a brittle joint
or two.
Naturally the beast resents such treatment. It is aghast at the pros
pect of being disembered, and sometimes it reaches out a claw and pinches
the life from some well-meaning radical, but there are others to take his
place and the fight goes on—The crab is convulsed with fright and horror.
Its armor of tradition is being stripped from it by ruthless hands. Its
dogmas are worn out. The old platitudes are brittle. It thinks that it is
going to die. But the aches that it takes to be the agonies of dissolution
are merely growing pains, after all.
PHOTOGRAPHS—JUST AS IN ALL OTHER THINGS
At our studio you are always sure of getting just the
right thing—the latest pose—the newest finish—the
most recent mountings. Right up-to-day—but not ex
treme.
AGGIELAND STUDIO
OUTSIDE NORTH GATE OF CAMPUS
Films left at 4:30 p. m. finished next day at 4:30.
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JOE KAPLAN & CO, INC.
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