Life — December 18, 1902 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

The Eddy Cult. 'OW edifying ’tis to see Dupes and disciples ready X-Scientists at once to be, Inspired by Mother Eddy. Diphtheria, or Smallpox—bosh! These terms are but a libel. Perhaps the patient doesn’t wash, Nor read the Eddy bible. Go where you will, you cannot miss: Imposing, white and stately— A modern, marble edifice ‘That honors Eddy greatly. The motto on the marble pure I think has not been read yet, But when it is, 'twill say, I'm sure, The fools are not all dead yet! Feliz Carmen. Ts Spirit of Extravagance was abroad. It swung along the streets and through the alleys. It sniffed at the slums, as, holding its skirts high, it passed swiftly on—on into the dry goods district it sped, holding high carnival—rioting at bar- gain counters, and shrieking hysteric- ally at the fancy goods departments. It tugged at the heart-strings of bride and groom, and fanned their faces into an ardent flame. It nagged the tired husband, and painting lines on his forehead, chuckled with fiendish glee. It lingered lovingly in millinery establishments, and gathered new im- petus in many a dressmaker’s shop. There was hardly a place where it wasn't welcome. Through hotel corridors it skipped, and up and down broad avenues flew along. Up the church aisle it stalked, now grown pompous with pride, and departed only with the last peal of the organ. It ran races with snorting automobiles, and beat them at their own game ; and then it sobered down and kept time with the rhythmic jog of stately equipages. In drawing-rooms it cast an effulgent «LIFE - glow, and over dining-room tables wove its deadly spell. Above the divorce court, with outstretched arms, it spread a mocking blessing, and in front of many a lawyer's office it laughed a derisive laugh. There was scarcely anywhere that it did not go. Noone stopped it. Many a strong man shook at its approach without knowing why. Women hugged it to their bosoms. Children blindly obeyed its mandates. It stood in the legislature and dictated terms, and over many a funeral cortége it hovered with premonitory laugh that seemed to say, ‘* Wait! for Iam coming!” It knew no rest. When honest men slept, it was still abroad. Day and night, tireless, unceasing, inevitable, it swept the land. From San Francisco to Chicago, from Chicago to Newport, from Boston to New York—north, south, east, west. Like spectre grim and gaunt, it stood in the halls of Congress, and ruled supreme; and when morning broke, it climbed to the very top of the dome of the National Capitol, and upon that sacred spot planted its blood-red flag that proclaimed to all the world : “T Am an AMERICAN!” Tom Masson. Ovations. ‘THE ovation is Latin in its origin, but American in its fall flower. +The Roman ovatio was handed out only to cuptains ‘achieving easy, bloodless victories. With us Americans, about every- body, from a foreign prince to a candidate for Congress, is con- stantly having ovations ten- dered him. By some it is thought that the day is at hand when hard-coal barons and even legitimate actors will be the recipients of ovations, Ovations are cheap; the hot air, which is their chief ingre- dient, being an abundant natu- ral product of all free countries. Logical. ‘PASSENGER (in Broadway car): Here's five cents. Conpuctor: Didn’t you pay your fare? “Oh, yes. But you've taken me twice as far asI wanted to The Homeward Voyage. T Tis hard for the returning American to dilate with correct emotions when he nears his native shore. His heart should leap with joy as the dis- tance lessens and New York's splendid harbor lies close at hand. He would like to rejoice and feel some noble ex- pansion of the spirit, some exultant throb of pleasure and pride. He would like to murmur Lives there a man with soul so dead, or words to that effect, and to antici- pate with delight the stepping once more upon the sacred soil of home. Bat hecannot doany of these things, because his affectionate country has provided forhim a peine forte et dure, to be applied with the utmost severity as soon as he stands in the torture chamber of the docks. It is the anticipation of this misery, this harrowing and bumilia- ting experience that chills his blood, stifles his patriotic sentiments, and robs his home-coming of felicity. His feel- ings are rather those of a small boy returning to school, with the expecta- tion of some hard handling when he gets there. And as though the prospect of this ordeal were not enough to insure de- pression of spirits, a refined cruelty keeps ever before the traveler’s eye the vision of his doom. As he lies pros- trate in his steamer chair, with the A BRUSH WITH THE INDIANS. comicbooks.com