Life — June 14, 1906 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

Love's Tramway OVE isa rapid transit line Much like the modern trolley— Gold-bonded, and, in short, a fine Investment for your Folly. Its cars are crowded, wet or fair; Men, maids and widows hurry To get aboard and pay their share Of dividends in Worry. From Sweetheart Square the line goes down To Nuptial Park (suburban), Connecting thence to Haremtown For wearers of the turban. \ branch extends to Quarrelville, To serve the Heavy Spende And cars to Alimony Hill Go loaded to the fenders. Crowds get aboard at Rival Row, But no one gives his seat up, And those who sit no interest show Except to draw their feet up. At Fickle Street there's quite a stir— Some take a new direction, Obtaining there a free transfer To Avenue Rejection. For those with hearts already caged, The common public scorning, ‘The special parlor car “Engaged” Is run till early morning. Dan Cupid is the motorman, And the conductor Hymen Shouts in a voice stentorian, “Step lively, please!” to shy men. The power plant is at the Mint, And when the current ceases It’s most amazing how that hint The patronage decreases. When there’s an accident, it starts ‘The lawyers on their mettle, With claims for fractured hopes and hearts, And some one has to settle. Orr TOR THE suMMER No threat of bankruptcy assails A road financed as this is Men pay their fares in fairy-tales And maids pay theirs in kisses. For womenfolk, however, there Are two quite separate classes; The lovely maids alone pay fa ‘The others ride on passes. Frank Roe Batchelder. In Washington H. is this?” we ask of the Washington man, when our progress is halted by a long parade of men, who bear banners and badges inscribed, “S. T. W. B.C. L. T.” “This?” he asks, smiling, ‘Oh, this is one of our largest fraternal orders.” “And what is it?” “The Society of Those Who Have Been Called Liars by Teddy.” An Appetizing Girl HE'S awfully sweet. Her cheeks are like peaches. She has cherry lips. Her breath is nectar. Her hair is like yellow corn. Her eyes are like blackberries. She is perfectly delicious in French dressing. Her complexion is a delicate cream. I love to toast her. She's a hone’ I sometimes feel as though I would like to press her to a jelly. But if I did, would she be cordial? Beyond the Pale “DUT,” says the visitor to the old friend, whom she has not seen for ten years, “you will pardon my seeming presumption, yet I think I could suggest several ways in which your house could be more economi- cally managed.” “Economy?” says the hostess, with some hauteur. ‘Pardon me, but our position in society is such that we cannot afford to save money.” THERE are men who will fight for their prejudices even when they have not the courage of their convictions. comicbooks.com