Life — November 28, 1907 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

‘ANT S15 OCs ART The hen remarked to the muley cow As she cackled her daily (That is, the hen cackled) “It’s funny how I'm good for an egg a day I'm a foot to do it, for what do T get? My food and my lodging. My! But the poodle gets that—he's the household pet, And be has never laid a single exe yet Not even when eggs are high.” ‘The muley cow remarked to the hen, As she masticated her cud, (That is, the cow did) “Well, what then? You quit, and your name is mud. I'm good for eight gallons of milk cach day, And I'm given my stable and grub; But the parrot gets that much, anyway— All she can gobble—and what does she pay? Not a dribble of milk, the dub: But the hired man remarked to the pair, “You get all that’s comin’ to you. ‘The poole does tricks, an’ the parrot kin swear, Which is better th'n you kin do. You're necessary, but what's the use O* bewailin’ your daily part? You're bourgeois—workin’s your only excuse: You can't do nothin’ but just produce— What them fellers does is Art!” —The Musicians’ Chronicte WQic A DOUBTFUL DEFINITION “What is your idea of prosperity?” asked the argumentative person. “Prosperity,” answered Mr. Dustin Stax, “is any state of affairs that enables you to remind the parties concerned that things might be worse.""—Washington Star. “THE MOUSE-BOAT ON THE STYX" Fanaten Jones (to omateur hunter): There wasn't a better water dawg livin’ until you shootin’ gents took to borrowing ‘im. Now ‘is ‘ide’s that full of shots, he'd sink to the bottom like a brick !"—The Bystander. “Trove a dim, religious light,” she murmured T was brought up in Pittsburg, too,” he said.—Leslie's Weetly NO LONGER WANTED David Belasco was being congratulated on the success of bis new G.A.R. drama. “Writing playsis risky business." id Me, Velasco. “Past triumphs don’t count. He who hi srittea twenty superb pieces is just as likely to be damned on his twenty. first piece as any tyro. “There was once a playwright who sat in the front ro at the first night of a new piece of his own. This piece faile. It failed dreadfully © As the playwright sat, pale and sad, amid the hisses. « womag behind him leaned forward and said Excuse me, sir; but, knowing you to he the author of this play, I took the liberty, at the beginning of the performance, of shipping off a lock of your hair. Allow me now to return it ty you." —New Vork Triune. Mr. Tersve, manager of a London playhouse, has a syste of his own. Whenever he sces a man coming in with too mach otch soda aboard he tells him there was a mistake in selling the ticket, as it has already been sold, and that the patron ca get his money back at the box-office. ‘This little fiction usaally works very satisfactorily to all concerned. It did not the other ight, however. A tall, red-faced Englishman, loaded up to bis lips, stumbled into the foyer. Mr. Turner gave him the reguls tion speech. “I knew you were going to say that,” hiccoughed the inebriated one. " You did it once before, so I bouxht another ticket. Here it is."—Argonaud. “Vat istropverse an automatic machine," said the caller, “that will pay for itself in a year.” “I'll take one if it will do that,” promptly replied the manufacturer. “If it will pay fer itself in"— year.” delphia Press No, if it will automatically pay for itself ing “Twitt. pay your debts to-day, but it is positively for the as time!” “Oh,dear uncle, then wait at least until to-morrow !"— ade Blactter. Lire. is published every ‘Thursday, simultaneously in the United States, Great Britain, Canada and British Possessions. $5.00 a year in advance. Additional postage to foreign countries in the Postal Union, $1.04 a year; to Cana cents. Single current copies, 10 cents. 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