Life — June 30, 1904 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

638 A Summer Book for Rose. O GENIAL Summer, close Some far-o! wilt thou not dis. vale where | can leave behind, Inaudible, the ¢ Who stri Tlike mine uni To knowing to perfection how to de ded er tale of love in idleness, ary buzz of those so fiercely to improve the mind? proved, and live resigned ad, with rapture unconfined— A tene Let freckled spinsters witherin Flock to th All th) Strange gor, groves of A ugh the dog-days in perspiring row s who, the moment th have dined, Proceed to tackle Bacon—meat and rind, For me no such po: ial distress, But, in a shaded hammock intertwined, A tender tale of love in idleness, And let it be a masterpiece, which grows More sweet twice conned—the rare unput- lished kind, Whose Rose With blissful k And—fort A joy and inspi opening and “Dear closing are s quaintly interlined ; juthor—one who seems to find ation measureless While whispering, in my happy arms en- shrined, nder tale of love in idl Willard E. Keyes. The Legend of Honor. 'T is a melancholy thing to sce the idols of our youth shattered, to sce illusions fondly cherished vanishing before the hot air of a mean and mercenary age. In the good old days the Hon. Rich- ard Turpin never meddled with the business activities of Jack Sheppard, nd Captain William Kidd was too much of a gentleman and naviga- tor to butt into the harvest fields of any fellow-practitioner in the gentle art of pira In the Homeric days of the West, the middleman, or the mid- dle-of-the-road man, who collected bis commissions on the profits of the gold fields from the operators journeying by stage to the pleasure resorts of the Great American Desert, would have deemed it distinctly dishonorable to have held up a fellow-commissionaire returning from a toilsome tour of col- lection. Esq. * * * PPARENTLY our old standards of professional honor have gone, and the spirit of commercialism has entered this last stronghold of old-fash- ioned finance. Ion Perdicaris retired operator in gas properties, “LIFE - having cleaned up the unearned incre- ment of numerous well-irrigated gas companies in that center of light and bleeding, New Jersey, departed with his pile for Tangiers in Africa, a happy spot where he rays of the summ are never obscured by writs and at- tachments, and where hop-worn palace, the noble Greek proposed to pass his declining years free from the clamor and ill-breeding of well-skinned minority stockholders. lar citizen, a Ton was a popu- peach, a Tangierine orange, a good spender, a brave wine- opener; and in his African Eden his fru; lunch counter w resort for transient transatlantic voyagers weary of the persistent attentions of duns and constables. In Tangiers also dwelt the Pasha Raisuli, Praisuli, truli, as he was various! Yures- known; an ex-vizier, politician and general grafter of the Oriental and primitive type, one of the tribe and school of Ishmael. He fell from power, and his benignant Sultan annexed his hard-earned profits, though he thoughtlessly permitted him to elope to the desert with his head and whiskers intact. . e . GENT EN of the same profes- sion, practitioners of the same cult, Ton and Braisuli, ete., should have been comates and brothe: exile, bound to each other by the an- cient code of honor; yet the base Ra z00li nked the retired Ion from his villa, and hauled him off into an oasis in the Sabara, holding him for a paltry ransom of thirty thousand dollars, Isit any wonder that Christian civilization is shocked? Can we marvel that Wall Street is pained and New Jersey is dis gusted? Isit surprising that the Pipe Line University is asking if Chicago civilization is a failure? . . ORTUNATELY, America is a World Power, and will not sub- mit tamely to the looting of its agents of prosperity by the medieval methods of an African handit. If Per- dicaris is to be plundered, instead of financed, out of his vested interests, who will guarantee the urity of John D, Sockafeller and the securities of the Great American Steal Trust? If Ion Pettycarcase can thus be impu- dently kidnapped, what is to prevent a mob of misguided reformers from lynching our most eminent reor- ganizers, or from hoisting the Jolly Rogers of Massachusetts and Standard Oil on the end of a rope? Fortunately, a strong, hot proposition rules in Washington. The Govern- ment is awake and doing things; and soon our fleets will thunder in Morocco, and give notice to a waiting world that though the Decalogue be a ja among friends and the Bible a literary curiosity, that ancient and honorable Anglo-Saxon adage, “There is honor among thieves,” has still life enough to thrill the honest American heart. Joseph Smith, Recuperation. IRST DOLLAR: out. Skconp Dottar : all right soon. “What are you going to do? “I'm going to join a fresh-air fund.” You look worn Tam, but I'll be Nature. L* DSCAPE gardening leaves no reasonable doubt that Nature is nice at bottom, It is through neglect, merely, that she has become countrified. One will be surprised to find how few millions it takes, provided they be judiciously expended, to give Nature that ease and confidence before com- pany which makes living near her a real joy, A MYSTERY OF THE OcEP. The Lobster WMAT ARE THEY, ANYWAY? The Crab: You MAY SEARCH ME! THRY COME AROUND EVERY SUMMER AND ALWAYS TRAVEL IN PAIRS. comicbooks.com