Life — May 12, 1910 — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

The Cit Turned Gentle- man (Moliére was the supreme master of comedy in all ages. This little bit ts taken from Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme and carries its own meaning with it.) Tue Puuitosopuy-Master: What have you a mind to learn? M. Jourpain: Everything I can, for IT have all the desire in the world to be a scholar, and it vexes me that my father and mother had not made me study all the sciences when I was young. Tue Puit.-Master: It’s a very rea- sonable feeling. Nam, sine doctrina, vila est quasi mortis imago. You w derstand that, and are acquainted with Latin, of course? M. Jour.: Yes, but act_as if I were not acquainted with it. Tell me what it means. Tue Puit.-Master: It means that without learning life is, as it were, an image of death. . M. Jour.: That same Latin’s in the right. THe Puut.-Master: Don't you know some principles, some rudiments of science ? M. Jour: Oh! yes, I can read and write. But now I must confide a secret I'm in love with a person of quality, and I should be glad if you would help me to write something to her in a short billet-doux, which I'll drop at her feet. Tue Puit.-Master: Very well. M. Jour.: That will be gallant, won't it? Tue Pui.-Master: Undoubtedly. Is it verse you wish to write to her? M. Jour.: No, no, none of your verse. Tue Puit.-Master: You would only have prose. M. Jour.: No, I would neither have verse nor prose. Tue Pui.-Master: or the other, M. Jour.: Why so? Tue Puit.-Master: Because, sir, there’s nothing to express oneself but by prose or verse. M. Jour.: Is there nothing, then, but prose or verse? Tue Pui-Master: No, sir; what- ever is not prose is verse, and what- ever is not verse is prose. M. Jour.: And when one talks what may that be, then ? Tue Puit-Master: Prose. M. Jour.: How? When I y cole, bring me my slippers a give me my nightcap,” is that prose? Tue Pui.-Master: Yes, sir. M. Jour: On my conscience, I have spoken prose above these forty years without knowing it, and I am hugely obliged to you for informing me of this. Tt must be one AIR-UM SCARE-UM TRAVELING —From George Cruikshank’s Comic Almanac for 1843. The first humor- ous airship picture known, LATER M. Jour. (to his wife) : I'm ashamed ef your ignorance. For example, do you know what it is you now speak? Mae. Jour.: Yes, I know that what I speak is right, and that you ought to think of living in another manner. M. Jour.: I don’t talk of that. I ask you what the words are that you now’ speak. Mat. Jour: They are words that have a good deal of sense in them, and your conduct is by no means such, M. Jour.: I don’t talk of that, I tell you. I ask you what it is that I now speak to you, which I say this very moment? Mme. Jour.: Mere stuff. M. Jour.: Pshaw! no, it is not that. That which we both of us say, the lan- guage we speak this instant There was an old man who said “ How Shall I flee from this horrible Cow? I will sit on this style and continue to smile, Which may soften the heart of that Cow.” —From “A Book of Nonsense,” by Edward Lear. 889 Mae. Jour: Well? M. Jour.: How is it called? Mme. Jour.: It is called just what you please to call it. M. Jour.: It’s prose, you ignorant creature. Mae. Jour.: Prose? M, Jour.: Yes, prose. Whatever is prose is not verse, and whatever is not verse is prose. Now, see what it is to study, Harvard College This celebrated institootion is pleas- antly situated in the Barroom of Parker’s, in School Street, and has poopils from all over the country. 1 had a letter yes'd’y, by the w from our mootual son, Artemus, Jr., who is at Bowdoin College, in Maine. He writes me that he is a Bowdoin Arab. & is it cum to this? Is this boy as I nurtered with a Parent’s care into his childhood’s hour—is he goin’ to be a Grate American Humorist? Alars, I fear it is too troo. Why didn’t I bind him out to the Patent Travelin Vegetable Pil Man, a8 was struck with his appearance at our last County F; & wanted him to go with him and be a Pillist? Ar, these boys—they little know how the old folks| worrit about ’em.—Artemus Ward. Matrimonial Journal _ A gentleman lately took the follow- ing meteorological journal of his wife's temper: Monday, rather cloudy; in the afternoon, rainy. Tuesday, .vaporish, brightened up a little towards evening. Wednesday, changeable, gloomy, in- clined to rain. Thursday, high winds and some peals of thunder. Friday, fair in the morning; variable till the afternoon, cloudy all night. Saturday, a gentle breeze, hazy, a thick fog and a few flashes of lightning. Sunday, tempestuous and rainy; towards even- ing, somewhat calmer. —From “The World's Jest Book,” 1826. The Ape and the Fox (From the German of Ephraim Les- sing) “Name me an animal, though never so skillful, that I cannot imitate!" So bragged the ape to the fox. But the fox replied : “And do thou name me an animal so humble as to think cf imitating thee!” Writers of my country, need I ex- plain myself more fully ?—Fables. Cheirisophus, a flatterer in the court of Dionysius, saw his patron laughing heartily with his friends, though he himself was too far off to hear what was being said, “ Why do you laugh?” asked Dionysius. “TI trust you for the joke being a good one!” —Athenaeus. comicbooks.com