THE BRAIN TRUST (cont.) The dean of the brain trust is Dr. John G. LIND. He is said to be the daddy of the phrase "Thar's gold in them thar hills." We can be sure if there war he'd know about it. A sense of his permanence as an integral part of our institution is revealed by the student who, in complaining about the weight of his rock collection, remarked that by the time Lind left Weber his students would have reduced the mountains to base level. The understudy of the venerable Doctor who will complete someday the job of base-leveling the Wasatch is Walter BUSS. He will never be Lind's equal, however, until he learns to shout under his breath and acquire a hearty contempt for high-school stuff. Faculty slips: Leland MONSON: In order to cover speeches thoroughly it is necessary to be able to listen with one ear and write with the other. Charles OSMOND: For the first time this summer I interviewed prospective mothers about sending their sons to college. John BEITS ON: I don't think, I teach. Marion READ: Now, we don't want a research paper. Make it philosophic. Just lean back in an easy chair, put your feet on the table, and start to write. Merlin STEVENSON: Before we were married my wife said she wouldn't marry the best man on earth, but she finally gave in. Garnett LITTLEFIELD sure demonstrated to Weber's male society how they dance where he comes from. Anna STARK teaches teachers to teach. And some of them will teach more teachers to teach. So Anna teaches teachers to teach teachers to teach teachers to teach, which sounds like a most vicious circle. There is another doctor among our cerebrators, Dean ANDERSON, who matches his strength and skill and brains against bacteria. He usually wins, because he can attack bacteria with his mustache, from where there is no escape. One last word about the brain trust. Agricultural economy is plowing under every third row of cotton, every third row of tobacco, etc. If the theory spreads to education, we have some recommendations concerning who shall bo numbers three, six, and nine on the faculty. This is page forty. A SNITCH IN TIME In the halls of Weber Collitch, Nigh the foot of Wasatch Mountains Bloom the tents of Otyokwa- Indian maidens, front row mongers. Also in ye halls of learning- Loaf two other boasting factions: Gorillas of the fake god Agfa, And descendents of the rabbit. Then up and spake the "mitey" Agfa, Long of tongue and short of wisdom. "Heed ye not the voice of Gealta- Foulest of the Rabbit family." Rabbits wrath with righteous raging Rose in rows and rudely wrangled, Rending wrath with ribald rancor Rashly ribbed the rabble Agfa. And lo, another plague descended With a smack of fertilizer, Spreading much on all and sundry, Incoherent speech they gibbered. Delta Phi, aforesaid spreaders, Sought to make their goats feels sheepish; They unto the Bastille herded, Roundly jeered by sleepy Tucker. Now, ye moral-lads and lasses- "Trifle not with Injun maidens, Scorn suggestive thumb of Agfa, Dabble not with hare-brained rabbits. Purge the halls of further spreading (Phi upon the yapping Deltas.) Lest ye in the hoose-gow languish, Heed not milch-fed Tucker's jargon." -Three of the Boys Editor's note: This poem, submitted anonymously from the boy's dormitory is printed on its literary merit alone; the Crumbs disclaims any responsibility for the ideas contained herein. This is page forty-one.