Life — July 7, 1887 — page 7: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

LIUFE - LIFE’S LITERARY FIND. NEW AND UNPUBLISHED HISTORICAL ANECDOTES, REDERICK THE GREAT once sent for Voltaire to consult with on a literary project, having in view a lampoon on the Pope of Rome. The author of the Social Contrat found the King in the royal bedchamber playing a cracked flute. The air was a dainty gavotte, but the execution of His Majesty was so abominable that Voltaire was obliged to plug up both ears with his thumbs. Frederick, seeing Voltaire in this mocking attitude, flung his wig in his face. By a rapid movement the latter seized the flute and snapped it in two as if it had been a‘stick of macaroni. He then began pounding His Majesty on the pate with a silver candlestick. With an expletive, Frederick drew his sword, made a lunge at Voltaire, and swore that cml for ~~ he would first peel him like an apple and then run him through the GETTING ALONG. . body and toast him on the coals. Voltaire gave a scornful laugh, and RIEND (0 foreigner who has been picking drawing himself up with great dignity, held a chair between himself up colloguial phrases): How are you to-day? and the enemy and proposed a truce. “Hold on,” he said, retreating FOREIGNER : Splendid! I'mall over the weather, into a corner of the room; “put up your cheese-knife, old man, and " = —== don't make a fool of yourself.” But Frederick was the more enraged at this insult and made another thrust with his sword. Instead of cleaving the heart of the philosopher, however, it went clean through the chair-bottom without doing any further mischief; and Voltaire, with a whoop, sprang out of the window into the garden below. Thus, by a trifling episode, a bitter enmity was occasioned between the King and the sage of Ferney, and they never spoke afterwards as they passed by. TO BE ENVIED. Stout Party (who has not seen his feet for ten years): AH! AND TO THINK THAT I TOO COULD ONCE DO THAT! * oe N ancient Greece there once lived a philosopher with a long beard, named Diogenes. House rent was so high in those days that in order to save enough money to pay his taxes he lived in a wash-tub. The only luxuries he knew were a burglar’s lantern and atincup, But one day seeing a tramp scooping up water in his hand, he searched for a rusty nail, scratched an ode in pure Attic on jis drinking-cup and gave it to a new-born mewling babe for a birthday present. “Let sucklings drink out of tin cups,” said the sage; “a bottle is good enough for a philosopher in the woods.” One morning, while making a wick for his lantern out of an old suspender, Alexander the Great came to pay him a visit. “ Hail, friend,” said the great world-conqueror, taking off his crown with a lordly obeisance, “ Alexander salutes thee.” ‘ Well, Aleck,” replied Diogenes, fitting the wick in his lamp, “you've got the earth now. Ain't you satisfied? Come, get out of my sunlight and move along.” Alexander was so pleased with this rejoinder that he presented him with his Jeweled Casket containing the Iliad, and approaching nearer delivered himself of these words: “Bend an ear, O Diogenes, and harken to the voice of a king. Were I not Alexander I would be Diogenes. Even now, Alexander, who weeps because there are no more worlds to conquer, will give thee his palace in exchange for thy tub.” “All right, your Majesty,” said Diogenes, stepping out nimbly and pulling Be ga THE LAST. his rags about him, “give me the key to your palace and take the old #2, On; Many! I can't, HOLD OW any LonoER! tub.” But Alexander suddenly disappeared and was not seen after- She: THEN WAIT TILL I GET OUT OF THE WAY, No wards. NECESSITY OF LOSING A HUSBAND AND A NEW HAT AT i? THE SAME TIME! Harold van Santvoord, comicbooks.com