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

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

* i ESE in; and see how everybody is staring at him. Oh, my! I never had such a fine toy in all my life.” “Dear, darling boy!” exclaimed his mother. “I am so glad that you like it. And now I must really run back home and change my tiara, but you just stay here and amuse yourself as long as you want to.” “T’m going to,” cried Arthur. “I’m just going to live here and arrange everything to suit myself, and have the best time in all my life, and I think I shall invite the little boy next door to come and help play with me.” “Do.” So Arthur’s mother left him with his hotel, and when his father came home that night and she told him, he was de- lighted to think that at last he had been able to get such a harmless and thoroughly instructive toy for his little boy. This matter went on for some time, and Arthur practically disappeared. One evening, however, he came into dinner with the old listless look on his face. Both parents as they gazed fixedly at him experienced a sense of inward consternation. They realized instinctively that they were up against it. Arthur was once more without an occupation. Assuming a vivacity they did not feel, they chattered on. But their bright young son was not to be fooled. “Papa,” he interrupted, “can’t you think of something to amuse me with?” His father looked at him in surprise. “Why, Arthur dear, what is the matter with your hotel? I thought at last that you had a toy that would be per- manent.” “T gave it away to the boy next door.” “Gave it away? What for?” “Because, papa, it wasn’t what you represented it to be. I lived in it for a week and I know. I met everybody, and took it to pieces and saw all the inside works, and I know.” His father looked at him in blank amazement. “Why, Arthur dear,” he said, “it cost me a couple of millions. What was the matter with it?” Arthur’s eyes filled with tears. “Tt wasn’t real,” he said. “It was all imitation—ladies and all. It was a worse sham than the playhouse in my nursery.” T. L. M. Willie Wood Soldier: SAVED AT LAST, BROTHERS, FROM A HOR- RIBLE DEATH AT SEA! THERE IS LAND AND YONDER IS A LIGHT- BoUsE! ‘WORRIES OF THE TOWER TENDER “(1 WONDER IF ANY OF THESE INVESTIGATING COMMITTEES WILL MAKE ME TELL ALL I KNOW?” An Appeal to the Mayor To Georce B, McCLELian, Mayor of New York. (R. MAYOR: On the southwest corner of Thirty-fifth Street and Fifth Avenue there is a large hole in the ground, scooped out months ago with the intention of inserting the butt end ofa building into it. The hole extends to the curb line and there is an elevated bridge over the sidewalk seven or cight feet above the sidewalk level. For about four months not astroke of work has been done on the job of which this bridge is a reminder, but during all those months every pedestrian traveling past Thirty-fifth Street on the west side of Fifth Ave- nue has had to climb and descend these steps or risk his life in going around them. By a rough computation, these steps have caused every day 50,000 persons to raise to the height of eight feet and lower again a weight equal to two and one-half times the weight of the Flatiron Building, and all to serve no useful or necessary purpose whatever, but merely to save a — — contractor an expense of about $25 to lower this bridge to the sidewalk level until he got ready to go on with his job. Please, Mr. Mayor, make the infernal brute put his bridge down where it belongs. And oblige, Lire. More Often RS. BRIDGE WHIST: What do you discard from— strength or weakness? DeputantTE: From fright, principally. comicbooks.com