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

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ly ll 5 l 1 E Z L it E ! 11 ge I v ! I i It! TAKING CHANCES. l stepped up to a fountain for to get myself a drink, But a feller sez, 'iBe keerful! There is death on that there brink! Beware the deadly drinking cup, l beg you on my knees! 'Tis loaded with bacteria of every known disease! l bought an ice cream sody, my ragin' thirst to quench, But my health guide snatched it from me with a far from gentle wrench An' frownin' at me sternly, he sez: Man, don't you know That ice cream is the fertile Held where bad germs always grow? All food, he sez, is deadly. There's trichiny in the pig: There's tubercles in cattle, an' in poultry, small and big, All fish you get is poison, an' veg'tables an' fruit Are lackin' nutrition, and dangerous, to boot. ! sez, 'Tm gettin' feeble, so l guess l'll go to bed. But he sez, l:rien', don't do it-take an out-door nap, instead, For a room is full of microbes, an' you git with every breath Enough of awful critters for to cause your sudden death. l sez, Ufnood man, forgive me, but run an' swat the Hy, For I am bent on suicide, an' happy will I die! Then l drank a quart of water, and l et a peck of food, An' then for drink an' vittles l was feelin' in the mood. l had some soup an' coffee, an' sirloin steak and trout, Potatoes, pie an' onions, corn beef, ice cream an' krautg Then l lighted up a big seegar an' leaned back on a bed- Oh, that was quite a while ago. l-lim? Pore ol' chap, he's dead! --Ex. fill!

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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

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WHERE' THE DOCTOR'S WIFE. The night was dark and bitter cold, The wind across the prairie swept, While I in comforts warm enrolled, Snored softly on and soundly slept. When suddenly my doorbell rang- Infernal sound! It pierced my ears As on the creaking floor I sprang, My heart athrob with direst fears, Lest one had come to call me out Into the cruel, biting blast- I for my garments cast about, Wishing this night call were my last. But oh, the best thought of my life! It calms me now as oft before. I'll send my thoughtful, faithful wife To meet the stranger at the door. She goes, and oh! the sweetest lies That ever mortal tongue has told, As in her artless way she tries To say-that I'm out in the cold. 'AI-le won't be home till break of day, An' then he'll come, poor tired man, l'm awful sorry he's away, I-Ie'll come as promptly as he can. I go to bed, but not to sleep: I ponder long on doctors' wives, The only ones who ever think Of our rest-broken, weary lives. I somehow think God clon't record Those little white lies often tolcl, To give a way-worn doctor sleep, Or save him from the winter's cold. And if He does, I'm sure His pen Writes very near, in letters bright, A tender thought of her who thinks Of doctors, toiling in the night. -DR. j. W. BELL 201