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

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Wfswgyr The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne, The tools so crude, the Master-hand so stern, The price so great, the gain so nearly naught, The effort vain, or knowledge dearly bought, A broken tool, and naught wherewith to mend, A struggle brief, and then we reach-the end! -PAUL LORRILLIERE HSMILES INSTEAD Oli TEARS. Condemn not too quickly, Oh, my friend, Rather help him on his way. With a cheer, a smile and a helping hand, The one who has gone astrayg Remember, you, too, might err some day. Withhold the words of anger, friend, You have no right to judge a man, Until he's been fairly tried. Retain the judgment you would give, Leave that to mightier Power Above. Thinl-L of the sorrow you may cause: To some mother, Wife or child. Deep down within the heart you hurt, You'll find a feeling pure and true, That were he in your place today, Would cause you smiles instead of tears. Perhaps the stride you'Ve made today, lf figured out on the square, 'Twould show a big balance, my friend, To the one who slipped it to you When you most needed a helping hand. lt's easy to keep one down, friend, just because you happen to be up, But let your word be ul forgiveng You'll then rejoice, my friend, That you'caused smiles instead of tears. -j. J. ZAK, 1915 U11

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Ii rg? D, THE COST OF LIFE. A train collision killed a fewq investigation cameg The probe was sharp, the uprolaeu was deep, but uno one was to blame The overworked dispatcher, true, had fallen fast asleep. But that was not the railroads fault-and the probe was sharp and deep A hundred souls, a thousand souls were sacrificed to flameg The Hprobei' was long, the iiprobeu was deep, but where to Hx the blame ? U 'Twas panic killed the audience: the loss of life was due To trepidation of the mob, said twelve good men and true, Pray God we grow not bitter, but it makes the vision red- This hellish truth of crushed-out youth, this tale of needless dead! No single name shall bear the blame: go 'iproben ye ne'er so deep For the cost of living rises high, but the cost of life is cheap. -Collier s THE YOUNG PI-IYSICIAN'S FIRST CALL. Hey, there! You little wriggling brat, Winkin' and blinkin' on grandma's knees, What do you think of this biz? Cute little fellow, ain't he, Liz? Say, Doc, how much did you say he weighed? Ten pounds! Beats Brother -!ohn's, anyway. Hully gee! What a Fist that is: Regular l-lerculese, ain't he, Liz? just see him double up his paw, l-le's goin' to fight his ma, Gr else his grandmag gee whiz! Whoops like an indian-don't he, Liz? Seems to say, as plain as can be, lim as lonesome as l can be: Lonesome the poor little fellow isg But we'll be good to him, won't we, Liz? Say, Doc, are you goin'? Well good day, l-lere's five dollars: wil! see you pay day. l'm satished, and l'll bet she is. Pretty good doctor-ain't he, Liz? -BRANDON, 'I 2111

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iw O doctor! thus the mother cries, And there is terror in her eyes, We hope you have not come too lateg The baby's in a dreadful state. Her eyes are bright, she cries at night, l-ler little clothes are getting tight, And when she sleeps, she kicks and squirms l fear the little clear's got worms. And doctor interrupts Aunt Sue, An elderly lady, triecl and true, This is what most arouses my fears: 5he's too precocious for her years. With such a brain l fear 'tis vain l-ler health and beauty to maintaing This state my point of View confirms- l'm sure the little dear's got worms. Yes, doctor, grandmother avers, And who can doubt these signs of hers? Around her mouth's a line of white, She grits her little teeth at night: She works her toes, she picks her nose, ' And when she sleeps, her eyes don't close. Don't talk to me of various germs- l l-:now the little dear's got worms. G. C. G. 'l6. THE Qocroiz. No higher, holier gift than thine. To mortal frail, is given, To heal the ills of fallen man, A gift of highest heaven. ODE TO A DOCTOR. The doctor comes, and quick prescribes, And then, when we are better, l-le sends a bill that reads like this: To Dr. Cureall, Dr. For when we're in the grasp of pain. And he has come and knocked her, We surely must admit that we Are Dr. to our Dr. Y -j. G. BURNETT. QI!