Life — March 14, 1907 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

PICTURE “No, mother, I have no hope in that direction. But never mind. I am sure that kind Providence must be watchin over us. Let us place our faith in God, who will surely find a way out of our difficulties.” So saying, he swung the bag on his back and strode manfully out. His mother watched him as he trudged away, scorning a group of his own chauf- feurs, who were idly smoking cigarettes in front of the palace gate, for he had been taught that the only happiness lay in a simple life, and that he must always do for himself. “Ah,” she murmured He has his father’s spirit. Who knows but after all he may some day achieve for us com- parative poverty?” David traveled on, Several chorus girls eyed him curiously, but when they found he was only carrying money, they laughed scornfully. ‘That was about the last thing on earth they needed, since Pittsburg had arisen. As he approached town, he was met at the gate by a group of persistent specu- ators “Here’s a prospectus and list of all the objects above reproach you can give to,” said one. “Come, friend,” said another, “the only safe method to give away your mil- lions. I'll guarantee you'll “be broke in five years.” “Try my safe and sure plan,” said another. “No publicity. ‘A steady drain until you are easy. No after effects. Secrecy guaranteed.” But he passed them all by. He knew they were fakers. His father had often warned him against them. As he trudged along, and saw the hopeless condition of prosperity on every side, he could scarcely repress his tears For we must remember that he was yet a child, and had not become accustomed to all things. “Tt’s all due to the awful tariff,” he murmured, bitterly. ‘Papa said it would ruin us all, but even if it should be done away with now, our condition would be just the same. We would still have our moncy.”” Then finding a corner where there was no other multimillionaire—for it was yet early in the day—he opened up his bag and offered its contents to the crowd. (cece ve 399 co ms vATHER’S JAN. “Who will accept?” he said. “There's a nice lot of available bonds and stocks. Can be converted into all kinds of money at a moment's notice.” “They're tainted,” said a woman with corkscrew curls to her companion as she snitied and passed by. At this moment a strong hand was laid upon his shoulder. “Young man, have you a license?” “No, sit,” faltered David. “Then off to jail you go.” The policeman whistled for a black Maria, and in a short time David found himself in cell No. 399 of his father’s jail—one that his own father had erected and given to the State for the exclusive use of magnates. ‘There was a plate over the door with his father’s name on it, and the date it was built. This, however, made no difference to the stern officers of the law. When the shades of night began to fall, David's mother grew very uneasy, and as the night wore on she became frantic with suspense. Sixty servants had all gone to sleep, and being a splendid, modern, up-to-date housekeeper, she knew far better than to disturb them. In the morning, however, a message came from David. “Have no fear, mother,” he wrote, “and all will yet be well. Busy yourself with hiring some criminal lawyers, alwa‘ remembering that my plea must be id’s mother was not slow to act. In a few hours she had got an array of legal talent seldom, if ever, seen together in one court-room. Public opinion, was so much aroused over this celebrated case, and the extreme youth and wealth of the prisoner at- tracted so much attention, that a speedy trial was insisted on, so that David and his mother, much to their delight, had to wait only five or six years before their case came on the docket. In the meantime, of course, their fortune kept piling up. But for this there was no help. David's chief lawyer was a very bright man, “Our line of defense,” he said, ‘will be, as usual, insanity. We shall prove that your mother told you the story of your comicbooks.com