12 THE ACORN Something Worth While Tell me what your many wants are, And I'll tell you what to do. Turn to "The Acorn's advertisement pages, Then, you'll find satisfaction true. You boys need suits, hats, shoes, and neckties Collars, shirts and flowers, too. You girls need dresses hats, and ribbons And many, many, "funny dues." Students! when you go to purchase, Don't you dare forget to say To our advertising merchants, That you're from the W. S. A. Johnny's Philosophy I wonder if George Washington was little, wunst, like me An' if he had a fife an' drum an' chopped that cherry tree. I wonder if that hero, that they make him out as such, Was just the bright an' truthful boy they talk about so much. I don't see how a "mortal" boy could be as great as he. There ain't a person livin' that don't lie, as I can see. Pa says my "philosophy" is far too much "profound," An' that my brain is growin' an' is anything but sound. He says the worry's usless, an' no matter how I try, It wouldn't make no difference if I worked on till I die. That's right, I guess, an' so the only thing for me 'S to throw away all worry an' be good as I kin be. THE ACORN 13 The Y. O. U. R. Railway Life's path is a broad-gauged railway, With its numerous bends and curves. It crosses the misty deserts, It twines thro' the rich reserves; It climbs to the highest hill-tops, It bridges the deep ravine; And man, as the engine-driver, Must see that the track is clean. Society, Love and Friendship, Preside at each narrow switch. Each shields from temptation's side tracks, And guards from corruptions ditch. The cinders of vice discolor The glories we fain would reap; But with hands on the safety-throttle, Look ahead nor be fast asleep. With conscience, the engine's headlight Reflecting on faith and hope. With right, as the "head-end brakeman" When we near to the downward slope. With God to pour out the signals, And keep us from sin and fear, May each on his life-long journey, Be loved as an engineer. Earth isn't a Union Depot 'Tis a side station on the line; It isn't a one-man's store-room; Its comforts are yours and mine. Look not to the fallen switch-light Which lies in an ill-famed bed; Let Nature's God-painted colors Be signals to move ahead. Heed not the steep rugged highways, Each man has his load to bear; Each engineer draws his pension, Each mortal receives his share. Heed not the temptation's drummer Nor others that ease may meet; Stay always behind the throttle And hang to the engine-seat. Each life has its private railway, And heaven is at the end; We've highwaymen, armed and fearless With whom we must each contend. Let each keep his seat of duty, And see that the track is clear; Let God be the superintendent, While man is the engineer. Walter Emmett. '06.