Life — January 9, 1913 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

Tree-hidden country roads and trafhic-crowded city streets have no terrors for the motorist who uses the INFALLIBLE Warns without offence-the signal of a gentleman Always certain in action. Gives unmistakable warning. Never causes a panic. Prevents accidents and damage suits. Jericho works on the exhaust—thus eliminating all up- keep expenses. It absolutely cannot clog or get out of order. Whether you pay $500 or $5000 for 4 car, you can instal the best signal in the world for less than $10. If your safety and the safety of the public is worth $10 to you, instruct your accessory dealer, garage or mo- tor car agency to put on a Jericho. THE RANDALL-FAICHNEY co: Jamaica Plain, BOSTON, U.S.A. after, boiling over with indignation at Jeffrey's contempt of the North Pole. “Oh, my dear fellow,” said Sydney, “never mind; no one minds what Jef- day the arch tormenter met Jeffrey in frey says, you know; he is a privileged a narrow lane, and began instantly on person—he respects nothing, absolutely the North Pole. Jeffrey, in despair, and nothing. Why, you will scarcely credit out of all patience, darted past him, ex- it, but it is not more than a week ago claiming, “ Hang the North Pole!" Syd- that I heard him speak disrespectfully ney Smith met Professor L— shortly of the Equator.” A Joke from the North The reigning bore at one in Edinburgh was Professor L——; his favorite subject the North Pole. One A Song Against Grocers God made the wicked Grocer For a mystery and a sign, That man should shun the awful shops And go to inns to dine, Where the bacon’s on the rafter, And the wine is in the wood, And God that made good laughter Has scen that they are good The evil-hearted Grocer Would call his mother “ ma’am,” And bow at her and bob at her Her aged son to damn, And rub his horrid hands and ask W article was next— Though mortis in articula Should be her proper text. His props are not his children, But pert lads underpaid, Who call out “Cash! and bang about To work his wicked trade; He keeps a lady in a cage Most cruelly all day, And makes her count and calls her “miss” Until she fades away. The rightcous minds of inn-keepers Induce them, now and then, } To crack a bottle with a friend Or treat unmoneyed men ; But who hath seen the Grocer Treat housemaids to his teas, Or crack a bottle of fish-sauce, Or stand a man a cheese? He sells us sands of Araby, As sugar for cash down. He sweeps his shop and sells the dust, ’ The purest salt in town; He crams with cans of poisoned meat Poor subjects of the king, And, when they die by thousands, 4. Why, he laughs like anything. The wicked Grocer groces In spirits and in wine— Not frankly and in fellowship As men in inns do dine; But packed with soap and sardines, And carried off by grooms, For to be snatched by Duchesses And drunk in dressing-rooms. The hell-instructed Grocer Has a temple made of tin, And the ruin of good innkeepers Is loudly urged therein; But now the sands are running out —From sugar of a sort— 4 The Grocer trembles, for his time, Just like his weight, is short. G. K. Chesterton, in London New Witness. “1 more you are following my in- structions carefully, Sandy—the pills three times a day, and a drop of whiskey at bedtime.” “Weel, sir, I may be a wee bit be- hind wi’ the pills, but I’m aboot six weeks in front wi’ the whusky.” —The Tatler. comicbooks.com