Growth of Soul The spring and early summer smiled Upon the world, And when winter went The earth was green and fair. Life flowed in every plant And joy abounded. With a song in his heart And in his eyes a smile, The farmer watched his fields fill With green sprouts And his orchards fill with fruits, And his soul fill with happiness. Then, as though the gods had chosen To laugh at man, To revel in his sadness, To test his strength of soul, A great heat descended Upon the land And the vibrant life in every plant Was burned away, And the song in the farmer's heart was gone His eyes no longer smiled. The once green fields were Browned and burned; The fruit was hard dry knobs Upon the ground. Etched indelibly upon the farmer's brow Was the story Of his hopelessness. His crops were gone, burned away. And the earth was cracked and hard and dry; And his endless prayer for rain Went unheeded; Until the gods, yet unsatisfied Chose to mock his prayer. Then the earth was drenched. Day and night the torrents came. The earth was turned to mud. The farmer, his hopes burned and withered By the drought, Now watched with forlorn eyes His land turn to liquid and flow away. But when the storm was over, With some faint ray of hope in his soul Renewed by the sunshine, He faced the future undaunted. Surely gods are kind For often life is good; And those men who live its harsh trials well Are stronger men And their strength will serve them well. By Jerry Carlilf page eight All hogtied with subject matter, the best friend of the good student has little chance to unlimber his deep-down-inside philosophy. Here you can see how he acts when he gets his chance at what you might call freedom of the press. Thoughts from Aloft By THE FACULTY LOSS OF FACE Thoughts when expressed reflect as a mirror the features of personality. Perhaps that is why the owl says little, thinks much, and looks wise. To make these reflections worth the reading, here's a yarn from another man's book of stories. The moral is self-evident. Ajax was to be released from the mental hospital. That eventful day he was given a razor and permitted to shave. The attendant made a remark as Ajax stood before the mirror. As Ajax turned to answer, his razor cut the string which held the glass on the wall. After a brief conversation, he turned back to resume shaving. Consternation furrowed his brow. "Now wouldn't that be just my luck," he said. "I've been here twenty years and on the very day I am to be released, I've gone and cut off my head." Dr. Basil Hansen. MARBLES AND FINAL EXAMS A pencil and "blue book" and smatterings of learned (and unlearned) words, phrases, and formulae are the usual concomitants of final exams. Those who bring only these materials usually fail, regardless of grade. In playing marbles, some bring only marbles with which to play the game. But there's more to playing than furnishing a pocketful of "glassies." Direction, push, and judgment are needed. Without these most players will give up their total marble supply during tne game and leave with nothing; likewise most who bring only materials to exams give up their total supply of information and leave with nothing. Always you ought to leave any of life's experiences with more than you had when you came. In equipping yourselves for these final exams, bring also your faculties of reason, imagination, and concentration. Make your answers ideas representing you and expressing your viewpoints. Keep your wits about you; think, scrutinize, and evaluate. Discard and select, and finally cache away gems of thought: and don't forget to take them away with you. And you will have done better work in the test also. Remember that the "know-how" of digging for gold (or the atom bomb) is more valuable than the material itself. Carry with you to your exams more "know-how" and you will come out with more marbles. Dean Gardner. TO THE FACULTY If a college is a miniature society in which personality development and social adjustments are made by students, the teachers should make their courses more practical and utilize the social laboratory of the college. Walter C. Neville. WHY WORK? I work because I like to work. I choose work which I can enjoy. If you want anything work for it. If you work hard enough, you will get it. If you want to learn mathematics, for example, select a good text and a good teacher, buy a dozen pencils and a ream of paper and go to work. It is a sure cure. You do not need to take the teacher's word nor the statement of the book. Prove it for yourself. Dr. William Z. Terry. WINTER'S RIGORS As the most severe winter of record comes to a dribbling end, we are impressed with how really strenuous it has been for some of the local gentry. Many are so weakened that they are unable to walk through our halls without physical support, usually from some member of the opposite sex. Perhaps they are taking the love aspect of the Weber family a little too seriously? Dr. Ross Hardy. BUBBLES ON THURSDAY The clamoring climax, the pitch of fevered activity, achieved by Wednesday whose only distinction is being the middle of the working week appears to my jaundiced eye to be miserably overdone. There is a club meeting at noon, and even though I am unable to attend it regularly worry about my unsponsorlike delinquency gives my gastric juices the nod, and at about 11:10 they begin to arm for rebellion. Students with work to make up from three weeks ago decide that Wednesday is a nice round time, and bustle in wearing that face of beaming innocence and earnest goodwill which fills the tired teacher with such pathetic, unwarranted hope. After they are herded together and swept away, babbling promises, the mid-region is definitely tense though not audible. A weekly meeting in Salt Lake City, in the course of which I'm usually asked for a report which is home in my other purse, completes the business . . . unless some nice civic group has scheduled a meeting needing a spot of lurid contrast to the fixed agenda. If I explain my difficulty, ending optimistically with, "So of course that will be too late and I'm awfully afraid it's the best I can do . . ." they reply, only too flatteringly, I realize, "Oh, we'll wait. We don't have anything to do." So the ride home is made with the strategic muscles tensed and subdued rumblings not to be ignored. . . . Getting on my weary, mismated feet before a group of any description is the signal for squadrons of stern-visaged butterflies to take off up my alimentary canal to about the height of the trachea, and then systematically drop bombs, flares and whatnot down into my mid-section, blasting the blazes out of the digestive area and even giving the duodenum a nasty jar. When finally I creep exhausted into my little bed, it is with the certain knowledge that there will" be reprisals at intervals, involving everything covered by any good physiology course. Ah, woe is Wednesday. Jeannette Morrell. REFLECTIONS The forepart of March reached an all-time high in successful student activity at Weber college. Long shall we remember the winning of the Rocky Mountain Conference basketball title with its hotly contested games and story book finishes, the largest and most successful debate tournament with 850 high school participants, and the most pleasing opera "Rose Marie." Dr. H. A. Dixon. AMEN I'm getting a little tired of extroverts. The world, it seems to me, will soon be crowded with robust, back-slapping individuals who have learned from Dr. George Crane that three compliments a day will settle their social problems and from Dale Carnegie that a few rules faithfully learned will guarantee both friends and success. . . . What, in such a world, is to become of our Emily Dickinsons, our Spinozas, our Katherine Mansfields? Let a student at Weber college pass a few hours in Thoreau-like meditation and some well-meaning extrovert will be sure to stick a thermometer under his tongue and cart him off to the nearest hospital. Pearl Allred. COME ON IN, THE WATER'S FINE Some young men say, "I'm not going to college until I know exactly what I want to do for a living." Yet the decision they should be trying to make is not a static one never to be modified but a dynamic decision to be improved with each new growth in insight and capabilities. Merle E. Allen. 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