Life — July 17, 1913 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

HE Holy Smokus Hotel is ex- clusive, and not designed for the entertainment of the ordinary tripper. It is, of course, situated at Holy Smokus by the Sea. Its register reads like a page from the Blue Book; the chef is a regular ripper. The rest of the servants are Eng- lish and they serve toasted crumpets for tea. You wire ahead for your rooms and they meet you with a car at the sta- tion. Your boxes and other luggage are looked after hy a superior sort of man, The air is so pure that it gives you a feeling of intense exhilaration. And an appetite that causes you the silver-framed menu card with ex- treme solicitation to scan. All the food is from a model farm in the immediate vicinity. The water from a model spring; the eggs from model hens; the butter and milk produced by well groomed and cultivated cows. The maitre d’hétel wears whiskers and has the manner of a transiently, Daas Mn Mr. Nagsby: THE RIGHT ROAD FOR HOME, MY DEAR, I DON’T THINK WE ARE ON “LIF E* Why the Holy Smokus Failed (The Tragedy of a Summer Hotel.) carth-visiting divinity. Bows from the waist at a strict right angle and smiles faintly as your untitled position allows. Yet this beautiful place is a failure now in its second disastrous season. While a mile down the shore there is a ramshackle unpainted pavilion where they open the clams while you wait. And the smart crowds stand in a long patient line without cither rhyme or reason. And accumulate germs, pink pto- maines and microbes, paying for them at a quite exorbitant rate. Why is it, I asked one of the looming Britons at the exquisite Holy Smokus. What is the drag that pulls these charming men and women from this truly delightful place. To a broken down barn where all together at one table they poke us. And the food in a manner that fairly hits one in the face. It is this way, Madame, he said; your American men have such a pro- nounced aversion to departing from serve Mr, Nagsby: y their rather primitive ideas of an in- terior natatorium., They are not comfortable they can drape themselves damp counter at five o'clock in the afternoon, standing on one foot with cold, already carved scraps within easy reach, their digestions to jar. We endeavored to introduce the foreign custom of a lounge with palms and music, and we called it the Café Arboreum. We weren't running a pub’, you know, but I give you my word we have lost our most fashionable, in- telligent and distinguished patrons since it became known that we hadn't a bar! Kate Masterson. Social Truth, Scandal, and Flattery went to the Uppercrust Ball, Truth was promptly ejected for being naked. Scandal was put back into a shadow, lut everyone was introduced to her during the evening. Flattery, deing decked in fine apparel and false jewels, was given the place of honor in the grand promenade and at table, ~The great social occasion was variously re- ported—to the uninvited by Scandal to the newspapers by Flattery, and to the Recording Angel by Truth. unless. over a I MERELY VENTURED THE OPINION THAT WE OUGHT TO BE GOING IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION, MY DEAR. WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT IT? THAT SIGN YOU THAT I AM ON THE RIGHT ROAD, Mrs, Nagsb: WHO'S RUNNING THIS CAR? I GUESS 1 KNOW WHEN I'M ON THE RIGHT ROAD. Mrs. Nagst POST WILL CONVIN comicbooks.com