Life — August 17, 1911 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

~LIFE - A Horrible Experience (Revealing the fact that man to accept any O my return from abroad, where I had been for the better part of the year, I was pleasantly greeted by an in- vitation from Mrs. B—-. (Not only to spare her, but to preserve my own dig- nity, I refrain from giving her name.) With thoughtful consideration—as I fondly believed—she invited me down to her place for a weck on Long Island, and added in the inevitable postscript y, bring nothing but bare evening clothes are rather out of it with us at present.” This did not deter me from putting in a couple of dinner coats; I had been caught before by statements about in- formal On my way down, indeed, I rather regretted that I had not included my full evening outfit, especially as my man rather impressed me with his re- mark upon its necessity. “It wouldn't be safe to go to Africa without it, sir,” he had said. As I got off at the station who should I see but my old friend, Ethel Brampton; she had been in the next car all the time, “Bound for the B—'s,” she re- marked, cheerily. “I will join you, if you like.” “ Charmed,” I exclaimed, looking about for their motor. She saw what I wa looking for and laughed—rather inordi- nately, “We must walk,” she said. “ Walk!" I remarked in astonishment. “Why, it's a couple of miles. What's the matter? Don't they keep a couple of motors? Dear me, you're joking.” “Then you haven't heard?” “Heard what?” “That the B—'s are going in for the simple life. Come on! I believe our luggage will follow. I don’t know what they do about that.” Sne took me precipitately by the arm, We must hurry,” she exclaimed. “You see, all the B—'s guests are ex- pected to get their own meals, and there is only time for supper before “Are you I exclaimed, are they She swung back her handsome shoul- ders. She was really a very charming girl. Not at all, It's the latest fad. You'll enjoy it when you get into the spirit. I come down here when I need it, just to reconstruct myself. Good fun, I assure you.” It was rather of a warmish day, or and I it is not safe for a gentle- invitation in these days) found myself, in spite of my interesting companion, fuming inwardly at the dis- tance. Since I made the attempt to go up one of the Alps, five years ago, I never remember to have essayed such a task, On the way she regaled me with the story of the B—'s—how their wealth had palled upon them, and they had gone into a sort of thing that she vaguely hinted at. “You will understand,” she declared, “when you get there.” I saw at a glance, as we approached at last the B—'s magnificent place, that it was shut up tight. But in the rear, in a long, rather neat sow was a lot of small, freshly colored shant “What is your number?” asked Ethel, “Mine is 3.” “I don’t understand,” I replied, weak- ly. Look at your invitation. Have you got it with you? Yes, there it is in the upper left-hand corner. ‘Number 4.” See?” At this moment a tously head was stuck out of shanty number 1. It was the head of Mrs. B—. “Hello!” she cried. “ Glad to sce you. Can't stop now. I am frying some ham. John’s crazy about it.” Ham! ‘The word fell upon my con- sciousness with a dull, leaden sound. “1 hate ham!" I muttered. Ethel almost shricked. You don't have to eat it!” she cried. “ You can cook yourself what you like. The last time I was down here I lived on cighteen cents a day, and [ didn’t have a bit of meat. And you must keep careful count. Mrs. B— wants the statistics to forward to a society she Lelongs to. “Who washes the dishes?” I m tered, almost afraid to ask. “You do, of course. That's the beauty of it.” As I entered my shanty, in’ obedience to Ethel’s stern command, I found a motley array of utensils, There was a small stove in one corner, with a bundle of kindling wood under it, and on certain rude and exposed shelves a collection of pots and pans, In one end was a primi- tive bed, and a couple of chairs com- pleted the furniture, not to mention a pine table and a small refrigerator. I opened the refrigerator door furtively. Within I saw a small, pale looking chicken and some green stuff. Then I THAT MUST DE ONE OF THOSE FANGLED PLYING MACHINES ” “cosul went and knocked at Ethel's shanty. “Where is the water?" I gasped. “I am as thirsty as a Shei “You pump it up, way off there.” She swept the rear horizon. “ Everybody draws their own water here. It's part of the game.” My walk had increased my appetite, and it fortunately happened that once, years before, I had gone upon a camping edition. Gathering all of the slum- bering knowledge of cooking I possessed, I made the fire, drew forth the chicken from its icy tomb, filled a stew pan with water that I drew, and in a short time was preparing my evening meal. Just as I had devoured everything in sight and was ruefully contemplating the awful remains, there was a knock at the door. I opened it and was confronted by Mrs, B—. She was accoutered in a calico dress and her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. She shook hands heartily. “ Couldn't come before,” she explained. comicbooks -cCO