St Johns College - Yearbook (Annapolis, MD)

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as to some of the circumstances. Suffice it to say that after his escape we could never induce Flipps to spend another night with us in Pinkney Hall. He preferred the safety and seclusion of his country residence. ,But later in the year, under the stress of circumstances, he did spend a few days with us 5 and this is how it hap- pened. During 1ny Senior year- lflipps then being a Senior and Ike Wier a Junior- Flipps was accustomed to take his midday meal with the rest of the students in the Col- lege mess-room in Humphrey Hall. At that time the boys had gotten into a very disagreeable habit of rolling up the soft parts of a slice of bread or a roll and throwing them across the hall at one another, a habit of which I always disapproved, and spoke my disapproval in em- phatic tones. So emphatic, in fact, were my objections, and so often reiterated that when it came to a question of whether Parson Hurst or I had thrown such a mis- sile, it was always believed that the Parson had done it, and only his cloth saved him from dire and speedy retalia- tion. At any rate, one day someone from our table threw a large roll of sodden bread at the juniors' table, and unfortunately it hit Ike Wier in his eye, or rather it would have done so had it not been for the fact that his eyes were protected by a very valuable pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. Ike was at the time composing a soliloquy to rival Hamletls, beginning To be or not to be, pre- paratory to partaking of the dessert in front of him, and naturally was very much provoked. To cut the matter short, the size, force and direction of the projectile were duly considered, and it was traced conclusively to our I table, and from that to Flipps, the Parson or myself. That I could have thrown it was out of the question 5 the Parson denied it, and it was known to be against Flipps' principles to throw anything to eat away. In face of the presumption of innocence arising from the latter charac- teristic, however, the juniors decided - most unjustly, I have reason to believe- that lflipps had thrown it, and being in a large majority, as well as puffed up with a sense of their dignity, they decided also that the honor of their class must be vindicated. The upshot of the matter was that Iilipps came to me that afternoon with a formal challenge to fight a duel, the challenger being Ike WVier, and the option being given Flipps to choose the weapons. .l have lost the original challenge, but lke never lost an opportunity to put his thoughts in rhyme, and, if my memory serves me aright, it ran about this way 1 To MR. BILL FLll'1'S : The man with thick lips. As you very well know, you threw at me dough. 1 must have amends. and the writer intends to fill you with holes for throwing old rolls. As is always the case, the time and the place are left to your choice: my own I'll not voice. The weapons, likewise. I care not to name: but I've short-sighted eyes- please remember the same. As you're bound to get licked. bring with you your bier. I am not with respect, your truly. IKE WIER. Upon a careful scrutiny of this epistle, I told Flipps that I considered it highly insulting, and that the only thing to do was to accept the challenge. The question then became what weapons were to be chosen, and the following dialogue ensued :

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some 3emz'nz'scences. HY USDURNI5 I. Ylil.l.0'l I', 'QL llllmtrnlcd by the Authorzj HO of Ninety-one and thereabouts doesn't remember Ike l' VVier, the slugger-poet of Ninety-two, and Bill l lipps, the agrarian of the Class of Ninety-one ? Of course, we remem- ber others of both those classes, but no one who ever writhed in silent agony on Sun- day afternoons on the third or fourth Hoor of l ii1kney while the strains of an CXtCllllDOI'lZCtl selection from a home-made violin filled the air with their dismal wailings can ever forget Ike , 3 Wier, and no one who witnessed, or was in any way a party to llill liflipps, escape from a second-story window of Pinkney one windy night in December upon the alarm of hazers being carried to him, can forget .llill lflipps. Ike VVier wasn't the only violinist we had to bear dur- ing our stay in l7inkney, but he was by all odds the most persistent. The others were content to follow the old masters in their selections, and if Annie Rooney seemed to be a general favorite among our musicians, we never bore them any 1nalice- we took it out on the man who wrote the blasted thing. llut lke was different. Ysaye's wildest flights of violinic fancy set no standard or limits for lke's musings in the same line. l think he I had two more strings on his violin than Ysaye generally uses, one taken from an old bass viol and the other from a mandolin. V I could always tell the status of Ike's love affairs by the nature of the tones which proceeded from his room. I got so after awhile that I could tell just what he had had for dinner. At times he would stride madly up and down the hall, sounding forth with utmost vehemence the mad- dest utterings that l. ever heard from any musical instru- ment except the throat of an angry bull. On those occasions I would quietly barricade my door and make ready for fiight from the window. l. always abhorred murder, and if there had to be murder I didn't want to be a party to it. On other occasions the tiniest wren could not equal Ike's violin in the softness of its wooings or the grace of its tender chirpings. Seldom did he play an old familiar air, ex-cept by request 5 his apparent aim in life was to put in music the inmost feelings of his heart. or stomach, a good enough aim, provided you are not a misanthrope or a chronic dyspeptic. As I said in open- ing, who could forget him P I will not tell here the particulars of Flipps' escape from the second-story window of Pinkney, it's a long story, and, besides, I think I was bound to eternal secrecy

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Can you shoot ? Shoot who P Shoot anything-pistols, guns, mortars, cannons, Gatling guns, cat rifles - anything ? I can shoot a bow and arrow. Get out ! next thing you'll be wanting to scalp some- body. Can you shoot a pistol P H N037 All right. Can you fence ? I should say I can 3 I put up ten panels in one day last vacation. XVhy, I'm the greatest fencer in Aim Arandel. Now, look here, said I, dropping into Junior gram- mar, this ain't a wild west Indian show, and it ain't a farmers' picnic. I want to know if you can fight, and if you can fight, what you ca11 fight with. No, I can't fight. Then what did you want to get in a duel for P I didn't want to get in a duel. I didn't throw any bread. Parson I-Iurst must have done it. NVell, nobody's going to risk their eternal soul by fighting a preacher, and you've got to uphold the class dignity. Class hasn't got any dignity. . ' Class hasn't got any dignity l ' Why look at Reg- ister, look at Parson Hurst, look at Daniels, and finally, look at me, said I, drawing myself up, imposingly. Well, if you think you've got so much dignity, why don't you fight for it yourself P Now do11't get funny about it : I can't fight because I wasn't challenged. I! I Ill get him to change it, and challenge you. Iilipps, you don't know any more about a question of honor than a monkey. Who ever heard of anybody changing a challenge P You're in for a fight 3 you've got to fight, and the only question is how you're going to tight. Can you box ? H Noll! Then I'll teach you. VVhen ? Right 11ow. But first we must answer this challenge. Upon the strength of our determination, I sat down and with great care and much thought, wrote the follow- ing letter : MR. IKE WIER : Sir :-I have received from you a scrawl which I suppose was meant to be a dignified epistle. From all I can gather from the doggcrel, I take it to be a challenge to fight. Out of respect for your weak eyes, an affliction with which kittens and puppy- dogs are accustomed to suffer, I have chosen fists as the weapons, -and I will be careful to place them where you can see them. The place I have chosen is the Government Farm, and the time six o'clock tomorrow morning. I am sir, without respect, yours for gore, BILL Fr,1r'Ps. After Flipps had carefully copied this letter, I took it to Wier in person. From him I learned that Vic Torbert, now the dignified editor of The Cecil Times or some other newspaper, was to be his second. I saw Vic and arranged all the preliminaries, making our manner of departure for the field of battle one which would not result in our capture by the police, of whom we stood in great awe.