Life — July 30, 1903 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

106 A Villanelle of Travel. FRROM Washington Heights to the Bat- tery, In the busiest part of the day, The trip is confoundedly clattery. The women are conscious and chattery, The office-boys noisy and gay, From Washington Heights to the Battery, My brain is bewildered and scattery, As I whirl to my labors away— The trip is confoundedly clattery ! Some royal-born Clancy or Slattery, To mouth out the stations, holds sway From Washington Heights to the Battery. To call it a joy would be flattery, For only the deaf could gainsay The trip is confoundedly clattery. With raiment disordered and tattery, At length I emerge from the fray— From Washington Heights to the Battery, The trip is confoundedly clattery ! Eric Moore, Just Questions. HY does one always apologize for himself when seen buying a Ladies’ Home Journal? Why does one always explain that he takes the Herald for its shipping news, but never reads it? Why does one always explain that, though he buys the Sun, he does not agree with its opinions? Why does a reader of the Tribune explain that his father took it during the Civil War, and so he takes it now? Why does a man with a Times always explain that he bonght it just to see what the new management was doing with it? Why do the men with the Journal and the World explain that they bought them just to see what yellow journal- ism was like? Why is no man willing to admit that he likes the paper he is reading ? Hurry It Up! PrRom @ pamphlet issued by the Maryland Anti-Vivisection Society we reprint a paragraph which goes to the root of things: reatly needed In every University a chatr for itudy of Health-promoting conditions,” which in contrast to the Universal Study of * Bactertology and Disease " shall tilamine the dark mazo of Ills that civilization Impuses—a de- partment of Nature Research and it may well be & National Department also), whose object shall be the“ Comparative study of law-abiding condt- tons” under which diferent nations have attained the highest standard of physical well-being, Surely, the sooner the better. #blE By: Economic Receipts. Get-Rica-Quickty Sour. ( Wall Street Style.) T° 4 barrels of water add, agitating constantly, 1 gal. wild-cat stock or wind-purée, 1 able-bodied bull, 1 medium bear (Reading preferred), as many lambs as the market affords (first, skinning carefully), 1 bunch long green, 1 handful shorts (well squeezed), a little thyme, and 1 life- size bottle Hoggett and Steele's extract of grabbettawl. Stew rapidly, skim fat as it rises, salt plentifully, stir ina little lye, strain with great care, and leave the lambs in the soup. W. E. P. French, Faith. ‘‘ HE main thing is to have a firm faith in God.’'"—Charles Wagner. Faith is about as common as a Greek profile these days, and about as easily to be assumed by him who hath it not. What then? Had the peace that passeth under- standing been vouchsafed the cliff- dwellers and their children and their children’s children, we should be cliff- dwellers still, it is likely. The burden of unrest is not comfort- able, but it is stimulating. The sweet, wholesome, simple life is hardly for the general; at least, not yet. For the general have something yet todo in the way of ‘progress, and what is to hold them to their stern task, if they dismiss their discontent? ’Twere Folly to Be Wise. ONCE upon a time, the Eternal Feminine met Wisdom at the crossroads. He was an old, old man with a long, white beard, and clad in a flowing robe. In one hand he car- ried an enormous tome, and in the other a tall staff, on which he leaned heavily as he strode along. The Eternal Feminine was as blithe as the morning, with the gold of the sun in her hair, and the blue of the sea in her eyes ; and Wisdom lingered a moment to talk with her. “Fair Eternal Feminine,” he said, ‘*why do you not join my classes, and become wise?"’ “Not I,”’ laughed the Eternal Femi- nine. ‘ I've seen the women of your classes, and they are all stricken with the Culture plague. Their foreheads have become knotted and knobby, their eyes pale and watery, their shoulders are stooped, and their freshness has faded. When I see them coming, I fancy they are going. They are a flat distinction, without a difference.’’ Wisdom smiled leniently upon her frivolity. ‘ Perhaps,"’ he murmured. Then, appealing to her curiosity, he added craftily : “* But they are learning the words which men know, and of which you are ignorant. In all the ages, you have only learned to spell one word—Man. That is all you can lisp, stammer or wail; the others you gibber over, but they are meaningless toyou. If you join my classes, I will teach you how to spell Wine, Glory, War and Wealth.” “‘Nay,’”’ said the Eternal Feminine. “*T will not pay the price of my beauty to learn your silly man’s words. Yet,”” she hesitated, “I would enlarge my vocabulary somewhat.’’ “Aye,” said Wisdom,with a gleam of victory in hiseye, ‘‘and none can teach you new words, save me. How would you widen the scope of your knowl- edge, pretty one?”’ But the Eternal Feminine was al- ready dancing down the highway, and she only langhed, and called back mock- ingly over her shoulder: “ From Man to More Men!" Mrs. Wilson Woodrow, “THESE PEOPLE DON'T KNOW THE DIFPER- ENCE BETWEEN A CONCERT AND A MENAGERIE. THEY SEEM TO THINK I'm SINGING FOR MY scrren.” comicbooks.com