Life — August 3, 1911 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

Life’s Paul Goold T is very hard reading the numbers along Broadway, especially when you are sailing up in a biplane. We recommend that hereafter all the num- bers be put on the roof in large figures, so that they can be readily seen: from above. We knew that Mr. Goold lived at 2314, and before we knew it we had gone up to 3000 and had to curve about. But at last we opened up his skylight and lowered ourselves in. He was so busy doing the Wall Street cover of Lire that he didn’t even no- tice us, although one of the wings of jane obscured his light. he exclaimed. “It’s you, is it? You have come for a title picture. Wait a moment and I will turn one out.” “No!” we replied severely; “we have come for the history of your life.” “Alas! I have none. I came, I saw, I struggled. That's about all there is to it. I am still struggling.” “Where did you start?” ear the shores of Casco Bay, in 1875.” “And when did you become an ar- tist?” “When I began to draw nourishment out of a bottle.” “And when did other people know ine” Mr. Goold smiled faintly. “Some of my friends say that they Family e1 IYRSE * Album don't know it now,” he said. “ There's my wife—.” Remembering that he was the hus- ‘band of a distinguished woman, we shuddered sympathetically. “But my dear fellow,” we exclaimed, “don't be discouraged. Think of the million readers of Lire who see—and appreciate—your work every week. Those delightful headpiece titles of yours are alone worth the price of ad- mission. You are modest. By the way, when did you actually begin to draw?” I began doing work for the Portland (Maine) papers’ in 1894, and later on studied at the Yale Art School. Then in 1901, after a quick trip around the world, I made my entry into the black and white ring, or, as the phrase is, broke into the sacred circles of creative art “Does your work come easy?” “Dear me, no. And I am never sat- isfied” “We never saw a good artist yet,” we murmured, opening up the skylight, “who was sctisfied with himself. We hope you never will be. Ta, ta.” And we slid off into space. Just Classics OOKWORM: Yes, I have about three thousand volumes. These in this corner are the ones I read. Visitor: But what are all the others? Booxworm: Oh, those are the books no library is complete without. From the Journal of a Neglected Cook (Who has been left in charge of the house for the summer) M*! but the weather's hot! I had to take an extra fifty pounds of ice to-day. I spread a lot of it in a pan and then let the electric fans play over it. That's something. The Mur- phys are coming to-morrow night. I must have the house cleaned for the oc- casion. To-day I had a woman come in to clean, It's hard luck, me having to pay her two dollars a day, but I put it in the grocer’s account. Everything's ready for to-night. I've cleared the rug from the dining-room, had the piano tuned (Heav- en knows it needed it), and the beer put on the ice. My, but we'll have a fine time! Didn't wake up to-day until nearly noon, The place was a sight, but I'll tidy up a bit to-morrow. When the folks gets back they won't know it. Picnic to-day. I had chicken from the butcher and a fine ham from the grocer. Glad I’m not paying for ’em. Bridget Murphy is staying with me to keep me company. She is a nice girl, but hates work. Never mind, we must wash up the weck’s dishes to-morrow. The phonograph’s broke. I'll have to send for the man to fix it. o 8 8 8 I've been cleaning house for a week. The folks is coming to-morrow. God bless 'em! NYELLECENCE OFFICE i ANB DUM! Sie Ss Tn a) tt TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER—A COOK comicbooks.com