Life — April 6, 1922 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

“Oh, I'm so sorry. Then you can help me act KNIT. I’m knitting this sweater for my brother at Cambridge. Ye exactly his size and I want you to try it on. You'll have to take your coat off—” “No, please—I must be careful about exposure—” “fut you'll feel quite warm when ut the sweater on. I do so want to see how it looks.” Needleton could think of no decent -c. He retreated in confusion to corner of the parlor and lit a cigarette. But his hands shook, and the match set fire to the window cur- he flames spread rapidly. rey!" screamed Angelica from acro-s the room. “Take your coat off and smother it.” Here, surely, was a man’s chance to show courage and action. But alas! Needieton was not properly dressed for cither. His clothes, even his un- seen. neglected clothes, unmanned him. He tied in ignominy from the burning house. ven if clothes don’t actually make the man,” mused Needleton on his way to \ustralia, “lack of clothes certainly unmakes him.” you excel a far tain Richard Buel. See America First “ WENTY-EIGHT Hotel Wilmerding” . . Dusiam”™ ‘ Screens—All Ahead—Kodak 2+. “BULL Deruam” .. Try Peppo-Cola—The Enemy of Thirst” . . . “Twenty-two miles to the Hotel Wilmerding” . . . “Chesterfields—T'll Say They Satis- fy! . . “That Good Gulf Gasoline” “Picture Ahead—Kodak As You miles to the » “Bott Rustless “Picture “Goo! goo!” “Line’s busy.” “Be ‘dumb,’ sweet maid, let those who will be clever.” . . . “Schenck’s Mandrake Liver s"... “Butt Duruam” . * ‘Put Your Best Effort Into Everything You Do To-day'—Rotary Club Members” ... "Blue Label Ketchup”... ‘ ‘You are now entering the town of Milchville, where the first trolley car in America was built. It was on the occasion of the car's first trip that Sitting Bull arose and offered his seat to a lady’— Goodrich’s History of A “Gorton’s Boneless Codfi Fottht For Your Ccuntry—Now Work For It!'"—Rotary Club Members” “Butt DurnHam”... “Eleven miles to the Hotel Wilmerding.” Gone LL, all are gone, And I alone am left Of that gay throng, Alone—bereft. The merry voice, Now silent as the tomb, No more is heard— All, all is gloom, But only spectres Haunt the shrouded past And ling’ring here, Weird shadows cast. * * * Aye, they are gone, And I alone recall, They quaffed—but I refused— Wood alcohol. Thornton Fisher. The Simple Life , indeed! Bankers lead a care- free life, a life of ease and com- fort. I am a banker, On Monday two of my customers went into bankruptcy, netting the bank a tidy loss. During the afternoon I ex- plgined to the directors why I had loaned these customers the money with which to go bankrupt. Tuesday afternoon I took my weekly lesson, at the Armory, in the fine art of shooting the bandit before the ban- dit had a chance to shoot me. I left, convinced that nowhere was a bandit safer than before my gun. Wednesday evening was given over to a lecture by a prominent criminolo- gist on the most up-to-date methods of bank swindlers. It left me with great confidence in such of my fellow-men as have died. Thursday I attended the funeral of one of our messengers who had been shot while delivering a payroll. His mother’s grief made my evening a sweet dream. On Friday I attended a dinner at which the principal speaker announced that only the bankers of America could work out the salvation of Europe. I devoted Saturday to the filling out of my customers’ income tax returns. To-day is Sunday. This is a pleasant sanitarium. But really, bankers do lead a ¢ free life; a life of ease and comfort. C.F. M. comicbooks.com