Life — April 19, 1900 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

347 ‘Attempt to commit eight thousand nine hundred and sixty-seven rituals, grips, passwords and signs to memory, ‘There was once a lunatic asylum there, but t was removed to give the patients a chance, The only industries left are the pickling of pigs’ feet and the housing of Boston editors, Deceased Somervilieans are sent to Fiddler's Green, asa residence in Sheo! 18 regarded by them as a social advance and a climatic and residential improvement. Rusible, Tedious. INKLE:; As I was sitting inacrowded car yesterday an old lady entered. Nopp: And you got up and gave her your seat. “No, Another man got ahead of me. But I had to wait for him for nearly five minutes.” The Fable of One Who Grew Wise. Na Small City, there once lived a Large Boy named Alphonse, whose Morals were of Great Dimensions and Purest Quality, but as to his Good Judg- ment, not Much, He never eaid Naughty Words and was a Stranger to Vile Tobacco and Bad Rum His Friends of course Pitied him but they might have Stood for It, until he began to Preach what he Practised, making Side Remarks when Somebody said D—n, or What wil you Have? After that, it was All up with Alphonse’s Social Career. His Acquaint- ances dropped off like faded Rose Leaves in a Hurricane, With unlooked-for Sa- gacity, Alphonse divined the Reason for his Alone- ness, and soon became a hardened Johnny-nbout- Town. smoking Egyptian cigarettes made in Con- necticut. and drinking Pouss¢ Cafés by the layer. Finally one night at the Club he proposed a toast, “Here's to our Wives and our Sweethearts, May HEDGING they never meet," and “With one arm he supported his fair burden, and with the other be abrieked for ald.” that being the Limit, ho Me. HERFORD insists upon the publication of this sketch. It ts not Mr. Herford’s fault that was unanimously voted heis an Englishman, and consequently he ts not to blame for sympathizing with the wrong one Good Fellow. people in South Africa, Out of pure affection for our friend, we publish his nefarious idea, Moral. Be Good and Editor of Lire. you'll be Lonesome, comicbooks.com