Life — June 8, 1922 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

SLAMS ACROSS THE SEAS (An Exchange of Confidences) “PERFECTLY topping idea, this Anglo-Amity among nations,” said Mr. Punch, blowing a smoke screen from his Perfecto Perfecto. “Same ideals, same speech—same—” “How about English lecturers?” in- terrupted Lir “But, really, old chap, we simply have to send them somewhere,’ Mr. Punch protested. “It’s all one to us whether they go to the Colonies or the States, if only they go. After all, y’know, what are a few lecturers in a melting pot?” “The Melting Pot has come to a point where it needs skimming,” said Lire dryly, “and as for lecturers, we have our Senate, you know.” “A sort of cross between our House of Lords and a Lecture Bureau, I take it,’ ventured Mr. Punch. “A House of Lords in sleeves,” corrected LiF “How extraordina xclaimed Mr. Punch. “Why do they sit in their shirt sleeves? Oh! on account of the central heating, I suppose. And now tell me, if you'll be so kind—dashed stupid of me not to know—but how many states are there in America?” “Forty-eight states and ‘the Cali- fornia climate,” Lire replied glibly. “California climate. Quite so,” ex- claimed Mr. Punch. “Sort of Amer- ican Riviera, I suppose. Run down there for week-ends, and bank holidays and what not. And, by the way, have you heard that no one goes to Scotland for the shooting any more “Of course. The shooting is all in Ireland now,” Lrre retorted. “Ra-ther good, that! Shall have to make a note of it,” laughed Mr. Punch. “And speaking of gunmen, I under- stand that you put them on pension, and all that sort of thing—We hang them,” its shirt . “We do do strange things,” was Lire’s sorrowful admission. Ve are a Republic, and yet we made Balfour an Earl.” “Oh, I say!” Mr. Punch objected. Then he broke off suddenly. “Pardon —I catch your meaning now. The Washington Conference. Extraordi- nary how you discovered Mr. Balfour —pardon, I mean to say Sir Arthur. Still one can understand that. His character is so in keeping with your national observances: distilled water in a champagne glass. “You mistake our national observ- ances,” Lire said, solemnly. “Distilled water is socially ostracized until it’s been pasteurized by a bootlegger. But the main point is we still laugh at the same things.” “Same things?” asked Mr. Punch. “Prohibition for one,’ Lire replied, emphatically. “Well, ra-ther,” Mr. Punch chuckled. “Oh, yes. Quite. But it must be a strain on your sense of humor. I mean to say, it can’t be an easy thing to laugh when the joke’s on you—what?” “IT hope you never know what it means,” said Lire, “Not at all, old chap. Not at all,” was Mr. Punch’s light assurance. “Britons never shall be slaves, and all that sort of thing. England muddles through, y’know.” “But our reformers meddle through,” Lire warned. “T sha’n't forget that,’ Mr. Punch promised. “Mind if I make a note of it, old chap? Thanks frightfully. It’s been a pleasure. Really. Drop over to London some time soon. I have some rare old port—’sixty-eight.” “Top-hole!” Lire exclaimed. “Bully!” grinned Mr. Punch. LIFE’S Agony Column (With apclogies to the London Times) The VAR Times F the American gentleman who was not drith ing at the Ritz last Thursday evening cares 1, communicate with the English lady who smiled, he may address her “Cordial,” The Slopes, Slop ping, Damp. NAPPY suits, in the prevalent one-button, pinch-back, belted coat styles at Grogg and Grogg, Ltd., Bond Street. By tailors to His Majesty. Te exchange, with suitable and party, 674 salad bowls, 28 dz. s ings H.M. Queen Victoria and H.i Albert, 18 tea waggons, 187 sets Tennyson's Complete Poetical Works, 63 vols. Irish Views, 2 Scotch estates of one-half acre cach for one (1) steam heating system. Lascelles, No, § The Times. appointment responsible ERBERT.—No hope. Bibesco. She would not stay— NK.—By calling at Peas and ( gent may have pint flask, empty, of pamphlets on “Advantages of Prohi America” that he left on bar Sat Enquire for the proprietor. day night. NFORMATION wanted by respectable widow of address in America of Herbert Hoover and his friend, Charles Chaplin. Both y men left my lodging house and forgot to settle their accounts. Mrs. Hawkins, No. 17 34, Achesall Road, Hanging Gardens, E. ( ang gentle ARVEY.—No use crying over spilt be rwarding new crock for next bang Pilgrim. USINESS.—Have threc thousand Scotch and would like to hear fron with ocean-going schooner. prospect. Venturesome, No. 7. cases of somet trip in LOSt-Manuseript of speech, “The Only S lution for Europe’s Problem: Liberal re ward if returned before I think of something else. The Rt. Hon. D. Lloyd George, No. 10, Downing St. The Bridge Muse ADY, thy beauty is to me What Helen's was to Mr. Poe, You are, as far as I can see, A paragon, as women go; I like the gowns and hats you wear, I like your snappy line of talk, I like the way you do your hair, The way you walk. “A perfect woman, nobly planned”"— That is exactly what I'd say If only I could understand The game of auction that you play. Come, lovely maid, dispel my doubt- Answer me just one little thing: Why do you bid a club without The Ace and King? comicbooks.com