Life — November 4, 1920 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

The Adventures of a Philosopher N my way home in the late afternoon. I frequently fall asleep on the train. It is a comforting and refreshing habit. After a long day at the office it often sus- tains me for an evening at the movies, to which T have been reluctantly dragged. Falling asleep thus one day recently, I awoke with a slight start. My first thought was that I had gone by my station. I was immediately relieved to see that this was not so. The man who sat in the same seat with me had also fallen asleep. He also— apparently—awoke with a start. He was a sinister-looking gentleman, with a thin face. I saw, or rather felt, that he was glaring at me, “You nudged me,” he snapped. “ You woke me up.” “Did 1?” T observed faintly, for I was still under the charm of the God Nod. “You don’t care what you do,” he growled. “ You—” I turned and gazed on him with a bo- vine gaze. “My dear fellow,” I observed, “you are evidently not well.” “What did you say to me?” he snorted. I saw that my shot had struck home. Is there anything worse than to tell a man that he is not well? “T said,” I repeated gently, “that you are evidently ailing. You should do some- thing about it. At your age—" “You shut up!” he snarled, purple with indignation, which was not at all miti- gated by the slight giggle of a charming young woman back of us. “You keep your tongue to yourself.” “T used to be that way,” I muttered, half to myself. “It takes time, control. To lose one’s temper sets one back—but there’s hope for all of us.” “T'll smash you in the jaw!" he shout- ed. “You're a cheap skate—blackguard!” “Very sad!" 1 muttered, sitting back once more. I knew I had him. It always works. The man rose over me. He shook his fist at me. Then he sank back almost in collapse. Words failed him. The train stopped, and he stamped out. The next day, during one of my health strolls, 1 saw him coming towards me on the street. He also saw me—and crossed over on the other side. Poor chap! Doubtless he blamed me. He may never know that the only reason 1 got him was because he had never learned the rare art of keeping one’s temper, Unnecessary Exertion OU should try to curb your bad habits.” “What's the use? Soon all of them will be abolished by constitutional amend- ments.” * EIFCE ~ WHY NOT > “still hairy as a Bolsheviki Mr PALMER? T’S natural with RUBBERSETS—the bristle or bad- ger hair probably came from Russia in the first place—but we'll make you this little wager “on the side”:—That the tendency to everlasting hairiness is the only “Bolsheviki habit” that any man ever proved on a RUBBERSET brush! 16 California St., San Francisco June 11th, 1920 (NOTE—Mr. Palmer's expe- rience with bi: ittle old last year’s Christmas gift'’ eloquent reminder that all that glitters is not gold; that it takes far more than a “‘rub- bery"’ name to make a brush anything like a RUBBERSET. It takes an exact duplicate of that everlasting grip of hard rubber and that’s something original with RUBBERSET brushes!) Rubberset Company, Care Literary Digest. Gentlemen: 1 can't resist adding my voice to the chorus of Rubbersetists. Next to my wife and my watch, my Rubberset Shaving Brush is the oldest member of my family, and I may add without shame that it's one of the most cherished. It cost me fifty centsin 1909 and while I have lost many and many a hair from the front, top, back and sides of my head since that year, my Rubberset is still hairy as a Bolsheviki. Last Christmas awell- meaning relative gave meanice, shiny,new brush which was advertised as “Set-in- Rubber,”’ and sold on the guarantee that it was “Just as good asa Rubberset.” One application of hot water, such as I use in my daily—sometimes twice daily—shave, took all the bristles out of the new brush as clean as the Chicago Stock Yards takes them off the back of a hog, and I went back to my old Rubberset forever. Yours truly, (Signed) CLAUDE N. PALMER This is Number 21 of a Series of Ad (AGT AVRIFYEN bY GORTAD MAN, Ea Tues FORGOT SM PER ANN RUBBERSET LATHER geet agnere ps PAIN Gor, BRUSHES) Sax every bristle gripped E| VERLAS. TI INGLY in hard rubber! comicbooks.com