University of Maryland College Park - Terrapin / Reveille Yearbook (College Park, MD)

Page 9 text:

To Professor Frank Byers Bomberger. In dedicaling tliis vnkime of the Reveille to Professor Frank B. Bomberger, we feel that we are conveying to him an example of the appreciation of tlie student hodv for his many acts of consideration for them. P ' irst: — As a friend he has lieen ever ready to stand for and sym])athize with the ideals of student life. Second: — As a teacher, he has ]ilanted the enthusi- asm he entertains for his work in our hearts and made his assignment of work a pleasure rather than a task. Third: — As an Alumnus of our College, he stands for the possibilities within the reach of all who are wil- ling to spend and be spent in the attainment of lii.gh i leals. Vet in earlv life, his shadow still falling west, he has reajied many of the honors v hich are usually harvested at maturer vears. We are ] roud of his cour.se. It is worthy of mention. Born June 9, 1S75, he com])leted the public school course and attended the High vSchool at Hagerstown. Md. Entered the M. A. C. September 15, 1891. Grad- uated with honors June 1894. Assistant in Chemistry at M. A. C. 1894-1897. Studied Law and was admitted to the Bar in Washington County, May 1898. As- sistant in English and Civics 1897-1899. Course at Cornell 1900. Chair of English and Civics l gg- c)o ■ A historv which should be a living insjiiration for every student conversant with its facts. We trust that our record of College life, as slu)wn in this annual, may not be unworthy of the association it creates for itself in this announcement of its dedica- tion. The fruition of this hope is all the recompense we ask for the labors and trials incident to its ])re]iaration.

Page 11 text:

To Cadmus, the Phoenician, Who Invented Books. Oh, Cadmus, Tom Carlyle declares we owe a debt to you, And when we think of what you ' ve wrought perhaps we really do ; But when you first invented books we ' re sure you did not see The woes you ' d bring upon the boys who write the Reveille. Now, Cadmus, if we really thought you knew about the scrape You ' d gotten us into, we ' d want to take you by the nape Of your old neck ( a metaphor ) and give you such a kick You ' d wish you ' d never dreamt of books, you ' d be so awful sick. In your day, Cadmus, don ' t you see, way back there in the ages, The best book that you ever wrote had not a dozen pages ; There were no ads. to bother you, no tardy contributions. No printers then to make mistakes, no modern institutions. But now ten thousand million things the editors have to do Before a book like Reveille is more than half-way through ; A hundred trips to Baltimore, to Washington the same. Until from chasing round the earth the editors are lame. And then the contributions — ah, no Moslem on his knees Ere prayed so hard to Allah as we have to pray for these ; And all we get is promises, or very little more. And half of what is written — well, we have to write it o ' er. We hunt around for pictures, and for poems advertise. And for an old moss-covered joke we gladly give a prize ; And when we think our work is done, and start to say Amen, We find a hundred thousand things we have to do again. And thus we work from morn to night, from night to early morn, Until we wish that we were dead, or never had been born. So, Cadmus, why we ' re blaming you ' tis very plain to see. For if yo ' jfi,5Jj ir €«ted books we ' d have no Reveille. i. — Editors.