George Washington Ev'ry state has its sample of dignified man, Where the proper example is set; Would you tread in his footsteps, walk straight as you can; Man must strive for the fame he would get. There are acres of pathway in Life's open road, Where the nettles grow tall by the way; 'Tis the hand planted roses which Washington sowed. That designs him the nation's boquet. While the old stars and stripes wave a welcome to all, Let it ever in Freedom remain; Let us keep the dear flag where we honor its call, Would we keep it from blemish or stain; Who has stamped there the seal that commands our respect, And the pride of the civilized nation? Let all chances be gathered while Life can collect. Would we gain this good man's reputation. He was only a boy but that only meant him, And it may mean the same thing to day; The man isn't judged by his beautiful trim, The scepter alone doesn't sway. God made man in His image to roll on His work, And He gave man the pathway to choose; Man must use his own will, would he labor or shirk, His own choice is to take or refuse. Let this honored example be honored by all, Let us all heed some honest advice; Let us listen to Duty and welcome her call. While we strive on an honest man's price. If the Future gives warning, we heed her command. If she asks we can each volunteer; Let us all be awake to shake Washington's hand, Pressing onward, each deaf to all fear. Walter Emmett. THE ACORN 9 TWAS THE eighth graders of the school in A who had assembled in the old Amusement Hall. St. Valentine's Eve had drawn them there and merrily were they engaging in the sports of the evening. Even old Joe the fiddler seemed to partake of the spirit and stamped his foot with a vim of coming merriment as he cried "First couple join right hands swing across the set." Swiftly the change was made amid jolly tides of laughter that brought the roses out. There was a pause in the dance and each girl threw a small envelope in the air and cried, Birdie, Birdie, fly away, Come back to me another day, Come back to me in one year's time And bring with you my Valentine. One girl a little taller than the rest, though not older, threw her missive and laughingly watched its flight. Something seemed to change the course of the envelop, for it went much further than was expected, and lighted right on the shoulder of the soldier that the Trustee, Mr. Adams, had brought with him to the party. Looking much abashed Stella came forward. "May I please have my envelope that fell on your shoulder?" 'So you do not consider me worthy to be your Valentine?" asked the soldier, whom we will call Mr. Phillips. "O, yes," said Stella, in much confusion. "Come on then," the Valentine cried, as he whirled Stella away to the tune of a lively two-step. When he brought her back to her seat, he made a low and courtly bow laughingly quoting, "Come back to me in one year's time And bring with you my Valentine." "You almost make me believe in witchery," replied Stella. Supposing we tell the teacher," said Mr. Phillips, "as she might think something wrong, and you know I'm your Valentine and you must let me take you to supper. The trustee, Mr. Adams, knows, and he thinks it a great surprise." Stella seemed as if she were on wings, or else had been touched by a magic wand, for her feet hardly touched the floor during the evening. Bright glances were cast at the handsome soldier, who proved a true Knight by dancing only with his lady, and in being content to watch her when she chose to dance with another. Her eyes sparkled, laughter rang out merrily, and her lips seemed to curve in, as if it were dreadfully hard to keep from telling her secret. Refreshment time came and the gallant Mr. Phillips led her away. Stella just couldn't eat, she was so filled with excitement and happiness. How she longed for the party to close. The hands pointed to the hour of twelve and the spell was broken. Stella rushed to the cloak room, Stella's Valentine