Life — February 23, 1922 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

Comes One With a Smile “f DON’T know,” said Sapphira, I thinkingly, “sometimes I feel that s a Fine Art, isn’t what it used . No one nowadays seems to achieve such a real and lasting repu- tation as we did—” “True,” said her husband, though the word on his lips was a lapsus lingue, “our names are still ringing down the is pioneers—” neers, nothing!” exclaimed Machiavelli. “Just because you two made « scene, with a dramatic climax, you needn’t claim the invention of mendacity.” The Ananiases were at home, and a few friends had popped in for tea. Their talk was desultory and casual, but they had it in for one another. “We don’t claim the invention,” said Ana “the Father of Lies would have something to say about that,— but we do hold the record as cham- pions.” “Because your names are associated yur falsehood,” growled Jonah, from his corner. “Now, I told a bigger whopper than you ever did, but—” “Your whoppers are like mine,” said Baron Munchausen; “so interesting that, though they may forget the singer, they will not forget the song.” “The real reason we are famous,” and Sapphira set down her cup de- “is because our names are Now, David said all men are with \ cidedly, giver liars—” “But he said that in his haste,” ob- jected Jonah, “so you can’t very well count it.” st as Paul said all Cretans are liars,” added Ananias. “Liars en masse don’t get anywhere,” observed Machiavelli. “All prophets are liars, and all profiteers are liars; all propagandists are liars—” “All writers and all readers—” “All theatrical managers and all movie producers—” % vomen—” The talk was general now, and they all agreed. Suddenly another sweetly, babbiing group, and said: opened and He smiled the the door guest came in. even affectionately, at “What talk! J am the Prince of Liars. From the beginning I have lied,-to the end I shall lie. Moreover, my lies are believed—always believed.” Right, old top,” said Ananias, “and instead of being struck dead for lying, as we were, you thrive and grow on it.” “T do. But then, you know, my lies “Frances, I told you a month ago I was on the verge of bankruptcy and yet you're blowing it in the same as ever.” “My dear Joe, if you’re going into bankruptcy, why not do it on a generous scale?” are all so pleasant, so acceptable—” “So convincing!” declared Sapphira. “So well worth hearing!” “So plausible and easy to believe,” growled Jonah. “Easy to make up, too,” said Mun- chausen, resentfully. “And diabolically clever,” conceded Machiavelli. “Also, you can do your lying with a kiss, as I did,” Judas put in, “and get away with it.” “Yes, old chap,” Ananias declared, “you are without doubt the champion liar of all time. You are the most famous, the most successful, the ablest and the best-beloved liar of us all.” “I know I am,” said Love, smiling. Carolyn Wells. Much Too Late T is probably too late now for any musical comedy producer to arrange for a chorus of socialists to come on singing: Tama Hun I am a Hun I am a Hun- dred per cent. American! comicbooks.com