Life — October 8, 1896 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

FROM AMY’S LIPS. (ROUNDEAU.) ROM Amy's lips the light words break Like ripples on a silver lake, As if no graver thought they knew Than this—that skies are always blue And birds are singing for her sake. And yet her words, though careless, | make Our sides and not our heartstrings ache ; A word that wounded never flew From Amy's lips Though I have scen the boldest quake When they have chanced her scorn to wake. And so I wonder what she'd do If I should ask for one or two Of—something I have longed to take From Amy’s lips. A. HQ. A MATTER OF TASTE. (CUSTOMER: You are using a different kind of soap from what you were, arn't you? BaxBER: What makes youthink so? “It doesn’t taste the samc.” “YER CAN'T "ELP LIKING "IM," ELEANOR’S EXPLANATION. Mamma: Wow CRUE Eleanor: BUT UE Loc HAVE COMPANY, 1 FREEDOM OF THE PRESS. F course it’s so,"’ said Chapman, a flabby, eager, little man. “I don’t believe it,” said Ellis, sipping his cocktail. “How do you know it’s so?” asked I. “Why, I saw it in this morning’s pa- per.” replied Chapman, in a conclusive manner, and with a look in his litle eyes that seemed to challenge contradiction. “Do you read the daily papers, Chap- man?” drawled a voice from over in the Halsey, the superior “cc corner. It person of the club. “Most certainly I do,” puffed Chap- man, turning to his interrogator, and falling neatly into the trap. ‘*T have often wondered where you ac- cumulated your large stock of misin- formatio} . tapping his eye-glasses on the edge of his knuckles, and letting his deadly smile hover around his thin lips for a moment. “ That's all very well,” said Chapman, inconsequently ; “don’t you read “em?” “Oh, my dear fellow!” mur- mured Halsey, raising his hand in a deprecatory way. * Never, never.” “Why not?” “They are so cruelly inar- was ELEANOR, TO HURT THE POOR LITTLE WORM. tistic,”” rejoined Halsey ; and then, as if to shut off further discussion, he began reading his stupid English weekly again. Chapman gave a snort and a look of disgust, and then returned to his gossip. “What fairy tale are you telling now?” said Tim Appleton, as he joined the group. “Bring me a Tom gin cocktail, with a dash of absinthe,” he added to the waiter. “Why, I was telling these fellows about Mrs. Peyton ; did you see it in the paper this morning?” said Chapman, with gusto, pleased at the accession to his listeners. “Yes,” said Tim. ‘She’s the wife of that tall, dark fellow that’s been on the visitors’ list for the last two months, isn’t she ?” “Yes,” chimed in Ellis. ‘* Pendleton put him up; he’s from the South, somewhere.” ‘Of course. Why, I met them both not a week ago at dinner at the Jamesons. You remember, Jack ;” and Appleton turned to me. “Yes,” said I, ‘I took her in. was charming.” “I should say she was,” went on Tim. “As nice a girl as I've ever met. Sweet, gentle and well-bred, and—"” “She was evidently too good to be true,” chuckled Chapman. “Oh, I think the whole thing isa black- guardly lie," said Appleton, hotly. He had had his cocktail. She comicbooks.com