10 WEBER LITERARY JOURNAL The American Way By Herman Richards. Oh, Mike, he came from Ireland, with his true companion, Pat. After landing in America, upon the dock they sat, Just taking in the scenery, doing nothing more than that! Pat heard the din of factories, he saw the smoke o'er head, He turned with wonder in his eyes, to Mike, his friend, and said: "Begorra, Mike, why all the smoke, why all the din, I say?" Said Mike to Pat, "I don't quite know, we just came here today But I've a notion in my head, it's just the American way." And so, with our great leaders always working for the best, Always striving for advancement, with that well-known Yankee zest, Tis no wonder that the "Pats" and "Mikes" coming here to stay, Would rather die for Uncle Sam, than kings so far away. WEBER LITERARY JOURNAL 11 "Mush Ado About Nothing" By Mary Rhees. LOCK up my doors, and when you hear the laugh, and the vile squealing of the wry-necked girls, clamber not you up to the casement then, nor thrust your head into the public street to gaze on Weber fools with varnished faces. But stop up my house's ears; I mean my casements; let not the sound of shallow foppery enter my sober house," said Mr. Clark to his son, Harold. "Get you to bed on the instant!" So Harold obeyed, and with troubled and dragging steps, ascended the stairs, and throwing himself on the bed, exclaimed: "By my troth, my little body is aweary of this great world. Oh, such is love's transgression! Griefs of my own lie heavy on my heart! Oh, Betty! Betty! Frailty, thy name is Woman! Since thou deserted me, I hold the world but as a stage, where every man must play a part, and mine, a sad one. Oh, weary night! 0 long and tedious night, abate thy hours! Shine comfort from the East and calm my aching heart by daylight, or send unto me sleep, that sometime shuts up sorrow's eye. Steal me awhile from mine own misery!" He closed his eyes on the world that is still deceived with Ornament and soon Queen Mab entered. She is the Fairies' midwife she gallops night by night, through lovers' brains and then they dream of love! So Harold Clark dreamed that he saw Mr. Gustive Larson standing in the halls of Weber by the warming radiator and at his side stood Betty Noble, and Gustive's voice like the pleasant sound of rippling water, said: "What thinkest thou, of thy old friend, Harold Clark?" With suspended breath he waited for the answer: "God made him, and, therefore, let him pass for a man. I do desire that we be better strangers. Oh, Gustive, what fools these mortals be!" Then fire gleamed from Clark's eyes, and he said, "Nay, as they dare, I will bite my thumb at them, which is a disgrace to them if they bear it," and when Gustive saw Harold biting his thumb, he said: