Bennett Medical College - Em Dee Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

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wwww THE GENERAL PRACTITIONER. He must not walk his rounds for fear his patients think him poor And dearly do they love to see a carriage at their doorg And if his horse is fat, He must have little work to do. And if it's lean the reason is, He starves the poor old screw. Should he call upon his patients every day when they are ill His motive plainly is 'ito make a great big doctor's bill. If he visits them less frequently-thus less'ning their expense- The chances are he'll be accused of willful negligence. He must work all day and half the night, and never say he's tired For the public look upon him simply as a servant hired, And should he take a holiday, he'll find when he comes back Some patients have resented it by giving him the sack. Concerning money he must seem indifferent to be, And folks will think he practices from pure philanthropy. When we hear about him boasting of the guineas that he earns We wonder if they all appear in his income-tax returns. About his own afllictions he must never say a wordg The notion of a doctor being ill is so absurd! And when, perhaps from overwork, he's laid upon the shelf, His sympathizing patients say, Physician, heal thyself. -DR. j. JOHNSTON WORK A BLESSING. Once l thanked Cod for many a glittering thing Which now l know was worthless and which passed With things forgotten and behind me cast, As l moved onward, borne by time's swift wingg But never thought l then that work could be Cod's gift, but rather, punishment it seemed: And often in my lonely hours I dreamed Of days when from its bond l should be free. But now l know that work is man's best friend, Heaven's highest blessing to a world like this: And now l ask no longer ease and bliss, But only this: Give me until the end Strength for the needed toil as the day passes by: Wfhen l can work no longer, let me die. -D. j. FLANAN, 'IS ISN

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Waiver' APPENDICITIS. Have you got the new disorder? If you haven't 'tis in order To succumb to it at once without delay. It is called appendicitis, Very different from gastritis, Or the common trash diseases of the day. lt creates a happy frolf, Something like the winter colic, That has often jarred our inner organs some. Only wrestles with the wealthy, And the otherwise rnost healthy, Having got it, then you're nigh to kingdom come Midway down in your intestine, lts interstices infestin' ls a little alley, blind and dark as night: Leading off to simply nowhere, Catching all stray things that go there, As a pocket it is simply out of sight. It is prone to stop and grapple With the seed of grape or apple, Or a soldier button swallowed with your pie. Having levied on these chattels, Then begin internal battles, g That are apt to end in mansions in the sky. Once located, never doubt it, You would never be without ity lt's a fad among society that's gay: Old heart failure and paresis Have decarnped and gone to pieces And dyspepsia has fallen by the way. Then stand back there, diabetes, For here comes appendicitis, With a brood of minor troubles on the wing. So, vermiform, here's hoping You'll withstand all drastic doping And earn the appellation i'Uncrowned King. -Anonymous. l 1547

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ODE T0 A SKELETONJ' Behold this rein! 'Twas a skull, Once of ethereal spirit fullg This narrow cell was life's retreat, This space was thought's mysterious seat. What beautious visions filled this spot! What dreams of pleasure long forgot! Nor hope, nor joy, nor love, nor fear, Have left one tract of record here. Beneath this mouldering canopy, Once shone the bright and busy eyeg But start not at the dismal void- If social love that eye employed, If with no lawless fire it gleamed, But through the dews of kindness beamed, That eye shall be forever bright, When stars and sun have lost their light. Here in this hollow cavern, hung The ready, swift and tuneful tongueg If falsehood's honey it disdained, And, when it could not praise, was chained If bold in virtue's cause it spoke, Yet gentle concord never broke, The silent tongue shall plead for thee, When death unveils eternity. Say, did these fingers delve the mine, Or with the envied rubies shine? To hew a rock or wear a gem, Can nothing now avail to them. But if the page of truth they sought, Or comfort to the mourner brought, These hands a richer need shall claim, Than all that wait on wealth or fame. Avails it, whether bare or shod, These feet the path of duty trod? If from the bowers of ease they fled, To soothe afHiction's humble bed, If grandeur's guilty bride they spurned, And home to virtue's lot returned, These feet with angel's wing shall vie, And tread the palace of the sky. -Anonymous. l 99