Life — January 22, 1903 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

-LIFE- The Answer. MAN, desperately in love, once sought a philoso- pher for a cure. “T have had,” said the man, “about all I can stand of this sort of thing. Between terr quarrels and midnight make - ups, I?m about dead. Iwant to withdraw with honor and a whole skin.’” “Your case is a pathetic one,” said the philosopher. “ My advice to you is to study the workings of your own mind. You will find then that what you deem real is only, after all, the phenomena of being. This creature that you love is in reality only an illusion, a subjective projection,and exists only in terms of empirical consciousness. After awhile, by reflections of this sort, you will rise above such folly.” So the man went away and began to reflect upon the transcendental wsthetic, and the properties of space and time. But he found the relief was only temporary, for when the girl came and put her arms around his neck, he was as badly off as ever. So in despair he went to a wise man. “Tm in lov he said, ‘und don’t like it. I want to be calmer and do things worth while.” “Study astronomy,’’ said the wise man, “ After you have been at it for awhile your own insignificance will appall you. You and your girl will fade away, Then when you come back to earth, take care to bring only yourself.” So the man looked at the stars. But there was the girl behind him, with her soft hands in his hair, and at last he gave it up. “ What are a few picayune planets,”’ he cried, “compared with her caresses?" And then he was obliged to acknowledge that still he was not his own master. And after the next quarrel he went to an alchemist. “Mix me a dru, he said, ‘ that will cure me of lov The alchemist smiled. ‘‘My friend,” he replied, ‘to be candid with you, a great many fine stories have been floating around about sundry old potions for this purpose, but they are all quack reme- dies. The only cure I know of is prassic acid.” The man smiled grimly. ‘I don't want to die quite yet,” he said. “I want to get rid of this love feeling. It’s the worst agony I ever experienced. It blows hot and it blows cold.” “Well,” said the alchemist, “ go THE LAND OP THE MIDNIGHT son. and ask that clown over yonder. Maybe he'll tell you.’” So the man went to the clown and told his story. “ Want to know the'answer?” the clown grinned, as he puffed a machine-made cigarette. “ Yes, yes,” said the man, impatiently. “ Marry the girl,” said the clown. Tom Masson. Infelicity in High Places. ERLIN. — As the Crown Prince of Weisnichtwo was beating his wife yesterday, her Highness lost her temper. The Prince was greatly shocked, but had the presence of mind to summon a patrol wagon. It now appears that the Princess has always been wayward. The story goes that within a week after her marriage she refused to braid her hair in the form of atrunk handle for her hus- band to drag her about by. The Prince bears up won- derfully. He appeared in public to-day and was en- thusiastically cheered by the populace, Rome.—The report that the Vatican will intervene to reconcile the Crown Prince of Weisnichtwo and his Princess is denied. Tho opinion here is that the Princess is not fitted to sustain the exalted responsibilities to which she has been called. Character. HARACTER fs a by-product.— Woodrow Wilson. Mankind have always been more or less busy, it is likely. What have they wrought? Nothing permanent, except character. So fleet the works of men, back to their earth again, Ancient and holy things fade like a dream.— The Tower of Babel has vanished. The Pyramids are vanishing. But whatsoever of character the Baby- lonians and tho Egyptians built re- mains and will remain. The saying that character is a by- product is smart. A successful pork- packer saying it would be voted clever. But a president of Princeton—— This is traly an eraof remarkable things. ran HE man who shrinks from attract- ing attention should marry. comicbooks.com