University Night

   University Night is an innovation of the class of 1912. It consists of a night set apart for the impersonation of professors and other comical characters by students. The purpose in the minds of the founders was to give Verne Bates a chance to make a speech before the curtain. The end has been accomplished so far, to the satisfaction of some.
   University night is free: that is, no admission is charged. Consequently a great number attend. Some sit down, others sit up and still others stand. There are others also, however, who can not stand it. They usually take their departure.
   University Night is greatly enjoyed by every one. The students like it because it gives them a chance to get back at the Delinquency Committee. The Faculty like it because, after the students have made fun of them, they are so frightened in anticipating consequences that class room behavior improves materially. The boys who gather in the S. R. O. from the Y. M. C. A. and Saratoga are simply tickled to death at the chance afforded them to snuggle surreptitiously against the girls in the melee.
   Laughter and ribaldry reign supreme during University Night. The laughter can be heard everywhere and at any time, no matter what is going on upon the stage. Curses and groans also are present: but they do not reign. They are muttered fervently between clenched teeth and supplications having to do with tender corns. This is no reflection upon the character of the student-or "studentess"--however. No matter how upright of principle and practice mortal man may be--no matter if he knows not a cuss word--just let him attend University Night, and after the forty-third person has stepped on that pct just abaft the binnacle of the starboard toe on the weather foot he will softly mutter to himself.

   Remember! Ah, how could I forget that day! Fast to the tower of old U Hall waved the flag of 1914, and suspended from a wire betwixt that same historic structure and Memorial Hall hung the sign of the skull and crossbones, painted in ugly green upon dirty white and encircled by the motto, "Down with the freshmen." I was a Freshman then and well I remember how we stood and gazed.
   But a spark of class patriotism had been fanned into an unquenchable flame: and hot words had lighted the charges of our wrath. In an instant walk and ground and pavement were strewn with struggling men. Women shrieked and hid their faces as we hurled our foes to earth; hats collapsed, shirts tore, pants ripped, and blood flowed. The banner disappeared and we were ready to go to class. But some tricky law had torn an undershirt from one of the professors and began waving it from an upper window. We thought it was the flag, and, like Spanish bulls, maddened at the sight of the rage-producing rag, attacked the enemy and feebly they fought back. The conflict grew in size until the battle royal spread to all parts of the Campus, when Chancellor Avery and Registrar Rutledge appeared on the scene and ordered us to disperse. We stopped fighting. There were bloody noses, black eyes, vicious bruises, and much wrath. If the god of death had not been taking his morning nap at that hour, he sure would have had the most of us. People around town gave the Chancellor and the Registrar credit for the victory, but we really won. You could tell it the next day by the countenances of the sophomores made hideous with fear as they appeared on the athletic field for the Olympics. The way we beat them was unprecedented and terrible.

The Evolution of Bill

No more shall Willyum rise from bed
Ere the misty morning clears,
And build the kitchen fire.
And feed the fattening steers.
And thaw the frozen pig-troughs,
And pitch down the horses' hay.
And urge the calves to breakfast
From a half-a-mile away.

No more shall sturdy Willyum
in the chill autumnal morn.
Work wearily with husking-peg
Through endless rows of corn.
While shadows on the hillside,
And dew's still in the dell--
He longs for nothing more on earth
Than hear the dinner bell.

But he's now a man of leisure.
And with manner debonair.
Upon the crowded bleachers
He wildly saws the air;
And across the struggling gridiron
Our Willie's voice is heard.
As joined with gleeful thousands
He shouts that naughty word.

Yea, sturdy Bill who tilled the soil
And wore the toilers' tan.
Is now another being quite.--
He's Bill Our College Man.
SEAGER.

The Rag

   The "Rag" is composed of an editor, a managing editor, two associates, and a business manager.
   His Honorable Excellency who now holds the editorial chair, with the editorial pencil behind his ear, is Searle F. Holmes, more commonly known as "Pink." Pink has red hair. He wears Kuppenheimer's latest and is a P. B. K.
   However, the handiest man with the editorial pencil is one "Zae" Taylor, who calls himself managing editor, but the reporters call him so many other names that this title has almost become extinct. Nevertheless, it is still applied on Sunday and on holidays, so it has not gone entirely out of usage.
   We have never seen the First Associate because he has never yet appeared in the office.
   They say that Mr. McConnell is a real live associate editor. but is so often a martyr to the cause of dramatics that he is never able to get around.
   The Second Associate was labeled by his parents many years ago Burton S. Hill, but every body calls him "Peanut." Peanut means well and is very short. He seems to spend much of his time talking about nothing, but still making a great noise.
   The business end of the paper is handled by "hizoner" Coe Buchanan. Coe says he is business manager, but among his better friends he is known as "cashier." We are proud to say that he is a line man for the position, and works every Saturday morning from eleven to twelve. He has an assistant known as James Morrison, who was once office boy, but who has recently been promoted. Jimmie still buys the horseshoe for the managing editor and happens in once a mouth ten minutes before closing time.
   Leo Breen does the circulating. He is the only old gray haired man on the staff. Mr. Breen is very well liked around the office because he never says anything.
   Among other things. we are proud to say that we have one co-ed on the paper who brings in all the latest about the sororities. Her real name is Ruth Munger.
   Johnnie Cutright dropped in the other day and informed us that he was still on the paper, so it is only right that he should be herein mentioned as a real factor in the office. Johnnie handed in a poem once and is a student in the College of Law.