Life — August 18, 1921 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

66S this Lire?” “Who are you?” “My name is Freud.” “Sigmund Freud, the Austrian who started psycho-analysis, nightmare expert and all-around master of the erotic?” “The same.” “Well, what do here?” “My ego urge compelled me to drop in and smile a bit at you. You thought we couldn’t conquer you in 1914; you didn’t know that I was—what you say? —on the job.” “T don’t quite get you now.” “Well, haven’t I got your medical pro- fession by the ears? Haven't I permeated your literature with my sex stuff? The movies haven’t anything on me, have they? Why, my practitioners are charg- ing twenty-five dollars an hour. Psycho- analysis is the order of the day.” “And the disorder of the night.” “Well, it’s all the same to me. You Americans will—what you say ?—fall for anything.” “Yes, Doctor; everybody knows that —except the Americans. What have you you want around come in to see me for—to proclaim your- self a Fraud and not a Freud?” “No, sir! Merely to express my satis- faction that—” “Man! Listen to me. We are not really so bad as we seem. Anything new in sex naturally in- terests us, but—” “There’s nothing new in what I've written.” “No, but it seems Some of your own disciples have already gone back on you. It will wear off.” “TI seem to have got you, Lire, all the same. Your women’s clubs are feverishly discussing me; your psychologists are advertising me; your publicity experts are loudly proclaiming me as the High Priest of the Prurient.” “What of it?” “It’s a great movement in—” “Passing, passing, Doctor.” “It may be passing but everybody is—” “That’s nothing. You see, once it was roller skating; then it was bicycle riding; then it was the Bergson philosophy; now it is auto driving, filming and prize fight- ing, with psycho-analysis on the side. Even the Bolshevists and you combined cannot altogether poison us, Doctor; we'll get over it.” “Bah!” “Baa, Baa!” new. T. L. M. Not a Drop Left ASSENGER (hurrying into There’s a man in the next car just fallen in a fit. ANOTHER PasseNGER: fellow; last drop’s gone; man just had a fit here. car): Too late, old “Whatever became of that girl that Reggie used to flirt with so out- rageously?” “Oh, he only thought he was flirting. She married him.” LIFE “Golly, I Bust Me Pants!” HIS inelegant exclamation may be heard quite often at Lire’s Fresh Air Farm. In any other houschold the victim would be supplied with another pair while the first was being mended, Unfortunately, at the Farm there isn’t any other pair and it is a case of going to bed, or standing in a barrel, until the reparation commission finishes its work, In the strenuous life at the ‘m these accidents are bound to happen and there js a pressing need for garments of all kinds, boys’ and girls’, ages six to twelve, to be used in emergencies. The children come with their entire wardrobes in use and have no reserve for even natural wear and tear. There is, no doubt, a personal advantage to this method. It involves no embarrassment of superfluous baggage en route. But it happens not infrequently that sudden shifts are essential and the necd of clothes for the youngsters is press- ing. Lire’s readers can send outgrown and semi-worn garments of all kinds by parcels post or express to Lire’s Farm, Branchville, Connecticut. It is 2 pleasure to state that, due to the generosity of Lire’s readers, the number of children transferred this year from the slums to the fresh air of the country will largely exceed that of former scasons. The increased capacity of the new dormi- tory and» an arrangement with the Children’s Aid Society have made this possible. Under this arrangement several parties have been sent to Goodhue House on Staten Island. That the children are well cared for there is shown by the fact that the fortnight’s stay of the first fifty children gave them an average increase in weight of two pounds each, meaning an increase of one hundred pounds in the population of the United States. When this appears the Endowment Party of two hundred-and-odd children will be in full swing at the Farm. They are there for two weeks as the result of the Fresh Air Endowments created by Lire’s kind-hearted readers, and from the same provision there will be an Endow- ment Party every summer as long as the world goes on. Mr. R. H. Williams, editor of The Osteopath of Kansas City, is a good friend of the Fund. He has not only made effective appeals to the readers of his publication but has sent two hun- dred dollars to establish an Endowment. If any one has a farm near New York which he wishes to abandon permanently, Lire’s Fresh Air Fund can make use of it. Tt must have a brook or a wading pool. (Fresh Air Statement will be found ot page 31) comicbooks.com