Life — July 24, 1902 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

* LIFE- According to St. Mark. He's a very Lord of Laughter, As we tread life's weary miles ; ‘To the gayety of nations He hath added many smiles, J. HEY had been engaged in catching fish—or in fishing —and they were in a benevolent mood as they sat on the grass and smoked the pipe of peace. John Oliver Hobbes was telling Miss Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler about the latest thing in imitation bon-mots, while Stan- ley Weyman was expostulating with Annie Swan on the bloodthirsty nature of her romances. I was feeling rather out of it, when the genial gentleman, whose Tom Sawyer had added largely to my infant devices for de- ceiving my adult relatives, turned to address me. “Do you remember the days of my Innocents?” “I remember all that you have written.” “My dear young friend, I hope not. That is an awful thing to tell an author. More than half of life’s happi- ness lies in the ability to forget the jokes that one has heard. I try to lose sight of mine.” “Some humorists take absent treatment for their jokes.” A gleam of terror came in the hazel eyes, and he looked around apprehensively. “Do be careful. Ever since I wrote that yarn about Christian Science, I have been sought by the disciples of Mrs. Baker Eddy. I have received two tons of the book, ‘ Science and Health,’ and every day I wake up to find the bed covered with letters from people who have been cured of everything but insanity, by just thinking that they hadn’t what they thought they had. It's a wise Christian Scientist who knows the disease he hasn't got." “I suppose you are speaking of the yarn about the man who fell down the Alps and broke all his bones and then was mended by the Christian Science lady?” “I refer to that very tale. It brought me shekels and many commending reviews, but it has also brought me an immense literature to prove that our matter doesn’t amount to anything. Now, don’t reply, ‘Never mind!" That's such a venerable retort.” “T never thought of saying such a thing,” I replied, in- dignantly, but not with perfect regard for that which, when crushed to earth, shall rise again. However, some achieve greatness, and others are snubbed by it, and I resigned myself to the second class with such grace as I possessed. “But aren't you afraid that all these Scientists may think of some evil until you are afflicted by it—rheu- matism, or appendicitis——" “That is just what several of them have threatened to do. But so long as they disagree, my lungs and heart are safe. It’s my brain that I fear for. It isn’t what it used to be, and, if it were attacked by the Christian Science germ, there might be a serious complication. But we have begun to take ourselves so seriously that a humorist must be put in quarantine ere he approaches the New York Customs,” “Ihave received two tons of ‘Science and Health." “That is rather an ordeal, isn’t it?” “The Customs? Well, I should prevaricate! You haven't anything like it in decadent Europe. If the Sul- tan ever strikes it, he'll think that Uncle Sam is trying to get even with those brigands who annexed the mis- sionary, and held her till they were paid to let go.” “Are you going to have a duty on anarchists?” “Away up. We can’t have our trusts disturbed. Just as a few innocent citizens have met to- gether to discuss public libraries or the amalgamation of the diamond interests, there comes a disagreeable ripping sound, and a twenty-story building is in ruins, while the newsboys are engaged in picking up souvenirs of the peaceful citizens. Paderewski's the only Pole who can charm the cheques from the men and the tears from the eyes of American beauty. And yet we cannot say of him in the language of dear Mr. Alexander Pope—he ‘draws us by a single hair.’ For a time it seemed as if we were breaking out in plaids, but our rashness was checked.” “You're a kind, tender people,” I said softly. “I've never heard of a foreign lecturer's being injured while he was giving you dialect by the dishful.” “Well, we're brought up to stand a good deal—and— then—there’s the Scotch highball. Then, the yacht races comicbooks.com