Life — December 16, 1897 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

TN eke, A VARIETY SHOW IN THE JUNGLE.—THE EDUCATED MAN. No Rest. HE wads by rich men won and kept Were not attained by single steals, But they, while th anions slept, Were always 1 y deals. After Rudyard Kipling. HEN it happened, she was in San Francisco and her husband was in New York. But she was a Western woman, the confidant and helper of her multi- millionaire husband, and accustomed to his large methods of doing business, She herself had manipulated important deals on the Stock Exchange, so no one was surprised when she rushed into the main office of the telegraph line con- trolled by her husband and cried ex- citedly “Get a through connection New York at once. I want in direct communication husband!” with to get with my Then, as Rudyard Kipling would say, the manager braced himseif for an effort of knowledge. He began to bum the wires, for Carvey Gain’s wife was “in a hurry, in a hurry First: he called up Los Angeles, and Los Angeles connected him w ‘an Diego, and San Diego with Barstow ; Barstow connected with Albuquerque, and Albuquerque flung open the wires through Atchinson, Topeka and Santa Fé, even to Chicago. Then excited operators began to cut in and inquire “Why?” ‘Is the crime of the century maturing?” came from Chicago. ‘We are all ting under cover here. She gave orders to quict the Stock Exchanges, and then Chicago extended the connection to Buffalo, and Buffalo extended it to Jersey City and New York. A few minutes later and her husband was standing at the other end of the electric belt that spanned the con- tinent, and the operators for nearly three thousand miles kept their ears to the tickers while this message flashed along the singing wires: “Baby has cut a tooth.” Hoot Mon in Buskin. WwW" receive with some regret the announcement that certain of Tan Maclaren’s bathetic tales are soon to This is in- American woman of tearful tendencies needs a rest. Per- petual gush undoubtedly wearing, and red noses and wet cyes—at least as a habit—are undesirable. We become m choly in reflecting upon the hysterical laughter, the sniffing and the flabby nerves that are inevitable accompaniments of Maclaren literature, be scen upon the stage. judicious, The Knew What He Was About. STF I were as drunk as you I'd go hom “Nosir. Aint’s drunk ‘sthat.” comicbooks.com