Life — April 13, 1922 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

- LIFE - Down to the Sea in Ships After All, It Depends Somewhat Upon the Impression We Make EITHER the Leading Lady nor I am certain when it was the mad idea of a European trip crept into our modest home. It is sufficient for the purpose of this brief chronicle that such an idea did furtively enter and that before we knew it we were talking confidently of going. After taking an inventory of all we had to the last penny, it seemed that, barring any untoward expenditure, such as having to have my shoes half- soled while abroad, we might make it. I pushed through the revolving door of the Pole Star Line and approached the long marble counter, presided over by a row of sleek-looking young men. I really must have been looking rather fit that day. The new suit wasn’t so bad, price considered. My overcoat had just been pressed. These, together with my hat, stick and spats, created, it would seem, the illusion I had always hoped for, but of which I had never been sure. That morning I indubitably radiated that elusive some- thing which indicates the leisure class. I approached the counter with non- chalance, and expressed my intention of sailing on the Pole Star Line pro- vided, of course, that suitable accom- modations could be had. I named the approximate date on which I wished to sail. I must have given the impression that, old sea-dog that I was, I would be a hard man to suit. The young prince who honored me with his attention, immediately opened a booklet, showing a picture of that floating Ritz, the S.S. Pyorrhcea, and with a pencil checked the “Reynolds and Gainsborough Suites’—for two, $4080.00. I hinted that I could buy one of the original pictures for about that figure, so he checked the “Van Dyke and Velasquez Suites” at $2972.00. Something in my manner seemed to indicate to him that, despite the fact that money was no object to me, I was not one to jump at the first offered, so, passing the “Romney and Raeburn Suites” at $2312.00 and the “Holbein and Rembrandt Suites” at $2200.00, he dropped to B-100 and B-101—“two beds, verandah, bath and toilet room” for a miserable $1440.00. Seeing that my clothes had put me in an equivocal position, I said very plainly, “My friend, you do not seem The Up-to-date Investigators “What are you looking for, boys?” “Someone said there w: as a blind pig in the cellar,” to understand. I have no desire to own a ship, I merely wish to cross the ocean on one. Don’t you suppose you could fix up a life boat so that my wife and I could occupy it? We've camped out quite a lot and rather like it.” I was sorry for him. He crumbled before my eyes, but I was relentless, Gradually I forced him down until he was at the foot of the price table. | will say this for him, he fought every inch of the way. , At last he announced—“Inside room, deck D, for two, $632.00.” He fiuny this out desperately, as one who has been stripped of all his earthly posses- sions and says, “Here, take my shirt. What more, in the name of heaven, do you want?” “No,” I said with a show of firm- ness, “haven’t you something cheaper, something say on Deck J, next to the vegetable cellar?” His lack-lustre eye told of his com- plete defeat. As he was sinking down behind the counter I hit him once more. “Show me,” I said with a fine sarcasm, “the Bud Fisher and Rube Goldberg Suites at about $400.00 for two.” God only knows how we will manage even that! Rollin Kirby. I Must Lay My Dreams Aside MUST lay my dreams aside, The better to explore A trig house, a sprig house, With lilacs ’round the door, And windows whose white shutters Are waiting to be drawn By your hand and my hand Before another dawn. I must lay my dreams aside, For there is much to do: Loaves to bake, and beds to make, And seams to sew for you— And narrow stairs whose windings Are waiting for the tread Of your feet and my feet Before the day is sped. I must lay my dreams aside, For there is life to live: Pain to bear, and joy to share, And folly to forgive— And love whose great enigma Is waiting to be tried By your heart and my heart Before our day has died. Ruth Lambert Jones. comicbooks.com