Life — March 26, 1891 — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

- LIFE: A STORY FOR GLOOMY THIS young man was once ike you and me, and we shall someday be just like him, Not a cheerful thought, is it ?—which brings us to the point of this story —that gloominess is almost a sin —certainly a crime against our fellow creatures. Therefore we should avoid it as we would any other infectious ailment which spreads from us to those about vs. A beam of sunlight struggling throught the clouds of a dark day is an unmitigated blessing, and as the sunbeam pierces the dark- ness so the weekly arrival of Lire pierces the clouds of gloom and work and worry which surround so many lives. It comes freighted with joy and merriment and laughter. Can yow_afford to be without it?‘ A light heart liveth long,” sings the poet, and if you would be light-hearted you must let a little fun—and the kind that Lire beings is the most innocent of fun—into your life. It will save doctor's bills to have it come regularly to your home, But, perhaps, to have LiFe come to you every week will make you foo happy. If you fear the effects of too much merriment you would better subscribe for Lire’s CALENDAR. It comes once a month, and is a handsome publication made up of matter from the weekly edition of Lire, It contains besides a large amount of merriment and glee, a store of useful matter pertaining to astronomy, astrology, and the times and seasons. The publication office is at 23 West Twenty- third Street, New York City, and the annual subscription to Lire is Five Dollars ayear, and to Life's CALENDAR Two-and.a-half Dollars a year, AN IRRESISTIBLE IMPULSE. Dobson (at 12.15 a.m., after a four hours call): MER'S COMING, MISS WARREN ? Miss Warren (who has been nerving w THOUGH YOU'LL MAVE TO EXCUSE ) AIN'T YOU GLAD suM- toif): Yes, 1 aM, MR, Dopsox, 0 TO NEWPORT THEN, “PARDON me for mentioning it,” she said, ‘* but isn’t that a new coat you have on?” “You have guessed aright," replied the young man, nervously removing his hands from the pockets. “*My dear Miss Pendash, allow me to ask how you think it sets ?"” For one moment the heaving bosom of the haughty Boston git! stopped heav- ing. Then partly recovering herself and hastily reopening the door, she replied : “Mr, Nervling, you need not remove the coat. Refore bidding ‘you good-b; forever allow me to remark that it is of no possible interest to me, sir, whether your coat sis well or not."—Clothier and Furnisher. Oh, No, Jack Harpur: Miss PLoutor: sister to you. Jack Haroup that I'm his son ss Ploutot, may I hope at all ? Mr. Hardup, this must go no further ; but I will be a Well, then, Miss Ploutot, just remind the old gentleman V'm afraid he might forget me in his will.— Yale Record, VIVRE 4 ia ilk comicbooks.com