Life — February 27, 1913 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

“DTP Es Bedtime Stories R. ORACLE and little Bright Eyes were walking out in the fields one day, when they saw a little lamb bleating for its mother. “Isn't it sad,” said little Bright Eyes, “to see that little lamb. I wonder where its mamma can be.” “Yes,” replied Mr. Oracle, “it is very sad. It reminds me of the story of Mrs. Wall-Streete and her little lambs.” “Oh, do tell me!” said Bright Eyes, and in her ex- citement and curiosity she forgot all about the real little lamb in the distance. How like all of us this is! “Well,” said Mr. Oracle, “it was this way: Mrs, Wall- Streete was a very wicked woman; there was not any- thing quiet or staid or old-fashioned about her! She was up to the latest tricks. She kept open house and the funniest people came to sce her. There was Mr. Broker and Mr. Banker and Mr. Lawyer and Mr. Pastor. Mr. Pastor was awfully funny about it and went in at the back door; and Mrs. Wall-Streete served a free lunch all of the time—lamb and mint sauce.” “You don’t mean to say they ate it?” said Bright Eyes. “Pooh!” said Mr. Oracle. “One lamb wasn’t any- thing to them. They used to flay a whole flock every day. And then there was Mr. Politician and Mr. Boss; they used to come in and sit down and enjoy themselves; and Mrs. Wall-Streete kept going on, getting wickeder and wickeder. She was a fussy and-nervous old thing, ‘too. Sometimes she would go into hys- terics over almost nothing at all.” “Couldn't they give her anything to stop that?” said Bright Eyes. “Oh, yes,” said Mr. Oracle. \ “When she got fb awfuly bad — when ow, she got into a regu- S lar panic—they gave her the gold cure. I couldn't tell you how many times Mrs. Wall-Streete has had the gold cure; and it always cured her; that is until she got bad again.” “But what did she really do?” said Bright Eyes, and then lowering her voice she said: “Did she ABOUT WICKED MRS. WALL STREETE THE HOUSE THAT JILL BUILT dance the turkey-trot and rag-time and all of those naughty things that my sisters love so much?” “Worse than that!” said Mr. Oracle. “She got the whole neighborhood by the ears. Why, people would come around and visit her and she would rob them of everything they had; sometimes she would almost take away their clothes. A proud, fine-looking, handsome man with real money that his mother had given him to spend, would visit her and then afterwards he would be selling shoe strings in the next block, and his friends would all go back on him, and what do you suppose they call that kind of people?” “Oh, do tell me!” said Bright Eyes. “Has-Beens. The by-ways around Mrs. Wall-Streete’s mansion are just filled with Has-Beens. But she kept right on, she didn’t care; until Mr. Politician began to get jeal- ous of Mr. Lawyer and Mr. Lawyer began to get jealous of Mr. Banker and Mr. Banker began to get jealous of Mr. Broker; and then there was trouble!” “What happened?” said Bright Eyes. “Well, you see, Mrs. Wall-Streete was investigated.” “What's investigated?” said Bright Eyes. “Well, you get on a nice special car with colored men to serve you chicken sandwiches and wine and chocolate caramels and cigarettes and beer; and you travel to a place called Washington.” “What's that?” asked Bright Eyes. “Well, it is a great big gilt building almost entirely surrounded by coons, and you go in and then you're investigated.” “Well, what do they really do?” asked Bright “Well, they ask you some questions and you forget, and after you have forgotten and forgotten and FORGOTTEN, then you go back home and read about it in all of the papers and then you make some more money.” “But I don’t see why that should have made Mrs. Wall-Streete feel so badly,” said Bright KD Eyes. ax) “Well, you see,” said Mr. Or- acle, “it wouldn't if it had been you evn or me, because we like the fresh air comicbooks.com