10
THE CADUCEUS.
SINEWS AND SCIENCE
JOSEPH LAWLER, WENDELL ROBERTS, K. J. DALQUIST.
STANDS ELEVENTH
CAMP GREENE RECORDED 2,876
CASES IN JUNE.
Not counting the unrecorded games
of horseshoe and quoits and maybe a
few harmless robing of the bones,
Camp Greene officially carries 2,876
athletic games during the month of
June, according to figures just, re
turned from the Y. M. C. A. center at
Washington. While these contests of
skill were going on 35,303 spectators
watched the eilorts of the 17,420 par
ticipants according to the official fig
ures.
This showing places Camp Greene
eleventh in the standing of all camps
in athletics for June. Camp Shelby is
rated just above with Camp Johnston
in twelfth place.
Camp Jackson, the big artillery
camp, at Columbia, S. C., led the list
with 343,814 men partaking in ath
letics for June, the report shows.
Fort Oglethorpe, at Chattanooga,
Tenn., was second, reaching 252,859
men and Camp Gordon at Atlanta, Ga.,
third, with 20.6,663.
Camp Sevier is fifth 'and Camp
Wadsworth ninth.
THEY’RE COMIN’ THROUGH.
Listen, Heinie—we’re tellin’ you—
Look out fer th’ Yanks—they’re corn
in’ through!
It may be now, or it may be then—
They’re not particular’ carin’ when—
But sure as shootin’, yer “vVacht am
Rhine”
Is jest about due fer th’ Indian sign!
Listen, Heinie—we’re tellin’ you—
You’ll git yours—when th’ Yanks
come through!
It may be quick, or it may be slow—
Ask yer Crown Prince—he might
know!
Whichever it is, it’ll be th’ same—
Old Tough-Luck Fritz—here goes yer
game!
Listen, Heinie—we’re tellin’ you—
Th’ Yanks don’t stop—when they’re
cornin’ through!
They’ve took a chew, and their teeth's
all set—
And you not come to yer senses yet!
Didn’t git mad ’til you bit their legs—
But you’ll go some now if you save
yer,eggs!
Listen, Heinie—we’re tellin’ you—
It won’t be nice, when th’ Yanks
come through!
There’s been things done—and there s
been things said—
That’ve softa stuck in th’ Yankee
head.
And that’s why, Fritz—we’re warnm
you— , . ,
To yell fer yer Gott—they re comm
through!
—WALTER S. GREENOUGH.
HEALTH WILL HELP
“The success of a nation in war
or peace,depends upon the conser
vation of the health of its citizens.
Eat less—work more. Wear out—■
don’t rust out. Health is an asset—
sickness a liability.
TO GRIFFIO
A FEATURE ON “THE PATHS OF
GLORY.”
(By Joseoh Lawlor).
It was midnight along the Great
White Lane everywhere the eye could
roam one could see Fashion and Beau
ty at its height. The idols of the The
spians were chatting and laughing
gaily while on their way to the Lob
ster Palaces it was truly a scene from
Bohemia. On entering one of the
Gilded Palaces one was struck by the
whirl and jazz of the devotees of New
York’s night life. In the middle of
the cafe a clean-cut young gentleman
was surrounded by a crowd of' his ad
mirers who were heaping praise and
also mixed drinks upon the youth who
had created a sensation in the Fistic
Circles of New York.
The young man in question was
none other than Young Griino, one
of the most marvelous youngsters
who had ever graced the squared cir
cle, he was indeed a marvel, columns
could be written about this Austra
lian who nary a warrior could touch.
His battles in this country were one
whirl of success one after the other
bowed down to, this young mitt art
ist but on the other hand the Idol
worshippers were slowly but surely
forcing the clever youth to hit the
down grade. Young Grifiio it is said
couldn’t tell the difference between a
ten dollar bill and a one dollar bill.
The sport writers of the country tell
of different incidents that go to prove
this it is said that his manager many
times after a fight would give him a
bunch of one dollar bills and the face
of Griffo would beam with joy at the
large amount of “Jack” he imagined
he had often times in the “Gin Foun
dries” he would stand in the middle
of the floor with a glass of water on
his head and leave' any man in the
house, knock it off if he could and
mind you, Grififo wouln’t leave the
circle in wfiich he was standing.
But after a whiie Young Griffo in
deed began to slip and it wasn’t be
fore long that he became a part of
the coterie that was once great. He
went from bad to worse and at last
The'idol really had no place that ha
could call home. The scene now
changes; it is at least eight years
since his initiation into Boheihia a
party of Chicago’s settlement work-
NOTHIN’ STIRRIN’
If it were not so bloomin’ 'ot we
would have a funeral for old man ath
letics at the base hospital. He has
passed into the shades. There is no
baseball, no track and mighty- little
volley ball.
Private Dalquist, the peppery man
ager of the base hospital team, has
tried in vain for games. He loudly
proclaims the pill jugglers to be the
champions of the camp and the an
swer is silence.
Of course we have a litlte horse
shoe now and then when the shad
ows lengthen—but it is even too hot
to write about it.
WHY EXAMINERS COMMIT HARI
KARL
Question;—Give emergency treat
ment for hemorrhage from the lungs.
Answer:—Apply a tournquet.
Question:—Describe the pelvic dia
phragm.
. ,.^iji'tfBr;;^,The diaphragm does not
go as low'as the pelvis.
EXPLAIN.
The boys are terribly suspicious of
that plain gold ring that you are wear
ing singe you returned from that fur
lough Francis, why don’t you explain
all about it?
ers are paying their usual Christmas
visit to a large public sanitarium out
side Chicago, it so happened that they
came on a forlorn looking unfortu
nate on the snow covered ground.
Something about the fellow attracted
their attention and they asked- the
attendant who he was. The attend-
an said he thought it was Griffo. Lit
tle did the party know that this was
the real Young Griffo, the idol ot two
continents to whom the cultured and
uncouth paid homage.
We ask ourselves “who such an
ending for a genius in his line and
for answer we fall back upon the
lines from the pen of Michael Strange,
the female literary sensation of the
year, who is causing a furror in the
Metropolitan art circles. She writes:
Why some down flying bird
Shakes a slumbering rose—
Why a poet’s muse leads on—or
goes—
God knows.
Why love, juggling with gleams
Should alight upon your sill
Singing to you—“Fulfill”—“Fulflll”—
Till you arise—cry out—and find all
still.
Why birth is launched amid shrieks
and cries.
Why life is spun froni a thread ot
sighs.
Until death sweeps upon his flight cf
crows—
God knows.