Life — May 10, 1917 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

When They Sell Bonds Across the Counter The treasurer of the National Re tail Dry Goods Asso n has wired Secretary McAdoo that dry goods and department stores would gladly assist in the distribution of small de- nomination bonds or notes for war financing over their counters. item 7G oor afternoon! I want a bond to match this sample, please. You an see what a delicate taupe shade it is. It's a sample from the summer coverings of my automobile, and it just matches my eyes. Yes, a ten-dollar bond would do nicely.” “Oh, horrors, no! That's far too dark. No, that won't do at all! Merci ful heavens! Those colors simply shrick at cach other! What else have you in bonds? “That brown bond is rather pretty. It would go well with the cretonne cur- tains in my boudoir, What! It’s a fifteen-dollar bond? How unreason- able! Still, it is very pretty. You are quite sure you wouldn't let it go for fourteen dollars? Well, I'll take it. On second thought, though, I don’t like the green ink that it’s signed with. How much would it cost to have the green changed to purple?” How perfectly horrid! I don't see why this store couldn't do such a little thing as alter a signature. I have had an account here for seven rs. Call the manager, please!” “T know nothing about the law! | think it is most inconsiderate of this store to refuse to accommodate me. I do not care:for your line of bonds at all. Your prices are altogether too high, and I shall use my influence with my friends to have them buy their bonds elsewhere. Good afternoon!” Kenneth L. Roberts, BREAKERS AHEAD, SAM! Violets of Picardy 1917 O VIOL S of Picardy, Again you wake, to war and woe, Beneath these sorrowing poplar trees. This gaunt and mournful row Of faintly glimmering April ghosts, They are worn and wan, with three years’ pain. © violets, O violets, How can you bloom again? Ashes have fed your folded flowers, Warm blood has stained their tender blue, And pleading eyes look up in ours, As we bend over you. Wide agony awaits you here; From heaven, the fires of hell will rain, O violets of Picardy, How can you bloom again? crman Bridgman. A SERVANT PROBLEM HOW TO SIT ON HIS LAP In the Museum, 2017 A. D. The Prussian Military Oficer * H, Mother! See that horrible statue of the bullet-headed man ir the green uniform stamping on the poor, tired-looking woman with his heavy boots, and beating the old man and the little children with his sword! Noth- ing like that ever happened, did it?” “Yes, indeed, my child! In the dark days of the Great War it was an every- day occurrence. The statue is that of a Prussian military officer. There are no more of them now, thank heaven!” “But surely there must be some mis- take, Mother! No civilized man could act like that to women and children!” “My dear Raoul, I appreciate your feelings in this matter; but I must i sist that you refrain from saying any- thing whatever that verges on a de fense of Prussian military officers, even though they have long since been overthrown by an outraged world Your great-great-grand father was alive during the Great War, and read the newspapers daily. Day after day, week after week, month after month and year after year the Prussians inflicted the foulest and vilest tortures on the wives, daughters and children of people whose territory they had invaded, sank hospital ships filled with wounded _ soldiers, poisoned wells, tore harmless noncombatants from their homes and drove them into slavery, and committed unbelievable atrocities of the lowest and most unspeak- able sort.” “How awful, Mother! Do you mind if we go away now? To hear ut such beasts makes me quite ill!” “Tt makes me quite ill to speak of them, Raoul. Let us get a taxi-airplane, go up a couple of miles, and let the winds of the upper spaces blow through us un- til we feel better.” Onn