Life — January 18, 1900 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

Dear Lire: Permit me to thank you for your courteous reply to the letter of “A Soldier of the Queen,” who wrote from Toronto, We Englishmen who read you have been some- what hurt at the attitude Lire has taken on this question, And, lest you should think us unduly sensitive, let me cite my own case, which Is only one of ma: On October 11, when war may be sald to have begun, I had five kinsmen and friends at the front. Of those, two have been killed tn action and two Ie wounded, Since then I have sald good-bye to four more. This may help you to understand how nearly the war comes home to us, and that ft 14 hurd to brook hostile critictam from a paper like LiFE. *LIFE* Be the war just or unjust {s not for us, now, to question. The Queen's Ministers have de- creed It, and tt 1s for Queen and the fag we fight now. Very falthfully yours, AN ENGLISHMAN, Lonvox, 8. W. My Dear Lire: Long before you ever heard of me 1 was your devoted, If obscure, worshipper. I have even written verues to your gently rising eyebrows—and got them back. Secretly—for where the heart prompts one should not be too obvious—I have paid each week a vulgar dime to see your gentle Ips curve into @ gracious smile. You tn the form T know only In outiine, but tn outline eloquent, ailve, Your soul—that ts a partof me, nodirsse oblige. Vhave for years read within the spaces of your text, Asa relic, a disappointed man, & aclentific graphologist, I scrutinize your hand- writing and find it good. Generosity. affection, faithfulness, some imagtnation—all these 1 see ROYAL TREASURY POR A NEW CLOAK. 2 THE FIRST CIGAR, Queen Ress : VY PAITH, SIR WALTER, A | | | KNIGNTLY DEED! YOU MAY DRAW ON TOE B CLOAK, YOUR MAJESTY, BUT YOU STEPPED ON THR OXLY CIGAR “Abit, a bit! a very palpable bit !"—Zamuet, thereto. Openness of mind—of this I'm “salir in dout,” as your golfing friend would say—but, then, you returned my verses, and | may bea bit prejudiced. And I cannot blame you If, in the storm of verses you receive, you sent mine back. They were ad, Here's to thee, my fair friend, for a better new year in & glass of golden Chablis! Yours, lowa Urry, Ia., December 16, 1899. — A Pastoral. T is yet some minutes before the train will come. In the meantime, 1 must wait. In one hour and, say, a few minutes more, I shall be steaming into the city. She will be there to meet me. Yes, she has promised to be there. How I Jove her! But no, I must not think of that. I must contain myself, I must occupy my mind, What a pretty little station! And such a delight- ful glimpse of Nature. Charming scenery herc- abouts. Ah, there is a bridge. How picturesque ! I will walk over there. It is onlyastep. What acharm isin the air. How beautiful is this road. Ah, here is the bridge. The water! How it flows on and on underneath! Those dark eddies, how like our moods, Nature is sublime to-day, I am now in the center. Beyond is the old- fashioned farmhouse, and now I see the further bank. How grim are the sentinel cattails. Look! Down the stream comes a craft. Her sails flap ‘comicbooks.com