Life — January 4, 1923 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

December All the morning at an 28th inventory of my Christmas gifts, among them being many brave and costly things, albeit the yard of German sausage and the jar of cu- cumber rings sent us by Mary Jos- celyn pleased me most... . In the afternoon to visit Mrs. Giddings, who is come from Boston to spend the winter in our city, and she did mention no less than six times that she had let the apartment furnished, implying that her own taste was not reflected in its investiture. Nor have I ever encountered a sub-tenant who did not make the same apologies, as if he would have you think his own zsthetic sense to be superior to that of his landlord. Which, God knows, is not always the truth... . To a dinner at the Blacks’, and thence to “The Texas Nightingale,” I greatly perturbed at our being late. I have not yet lost my youthful fear that if I am not present when the curtain rises I shall never catch on to the hang of the plot. December Lay late, ruminating 29th on this and that, and amused to recall Miss Akins’s suggestion in last night’s piece that a poet’s imagination bathes everything in beauty, and that perhaps Helen of Troy and Beatrice were not actually the sirens which Homer and Dante made them out to be... Hilda Flagg for luncheon, and she did talk of her unhappy love affair until I regretted having asked her. Lord! methinks that a tendency to be monogamous is the real curse which was put upon wo- man in the Garden. It is easy for me to rejoice with them that do re- joice, but weeping with them that weep is another matter. I did give Hilda some sage counsel, however, albeit I doubt gravely that she will follow it... . Sam home early, in high Spirits over our invitation to Lire’s fortieth anniversary din- ner at Sherry’s next Wednesday night, and my own enthusiasm would equal his if I could be sure that they would not call upon him for a speech. December Did on the costume 30th which I am to wear to to-morrow night’s re- vel, and thankful that it needs no let- ting out. Nor should I go to such a party were it not for the Browns’ friendship, since I have no heart for masquerading. Why we should spend money on foreign mission- aries when such festivities still pre- vail in our own civilization is be- yond me. . . .In the afternoon to see John Barrymore as Hamlet, and so moved by his performance that tears sprang to my eyes. . . After dinner to Marge Boothby’s for bridge, and the fourth was Commander Ows- ley of the navy, a young man who talked and laughed and made such outrageous bids and plays that the late Mr. Elwell must have turned in his grave all evening. And yet the sailor did win everybody’s money. _ Verily, Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered... . The New Year upon us now, but no old desires revived in me, my new ones being much more profitable and diverting. Nor shall I make but one resolution. And that is never to go to another tea. B.L. On a Birthday OW that you've finished your Forty Year, Gainer in things that are always fine— Memories each of the days made dear, Even the salt of the inward tear— What do you miss like the good, old wine? Friends that have passed like the fading day, Soft as the dusk on the mountain pine, Shrouded in gray as they went away, Silently vanishing from the play— They were alive in the old, red wine. Those that you loved and those that you wooed, Twilight, and ease, and a smile benign, Bringing them back to a thoughtful mood; Maybe there’s something you've al- ways rued— You could forget in a glass of wine. What if the leaves that are shading red, Flashing to gold in the Autumn’s shine, Winter will reap in a harvest dread? Always in life there will be the dead— But grapes are ripe for the future wine. Now that you’ve ended your Forty Year, Which of the things of a long time syne, Even the joys, do you hold as mere Items (which most of them are, I fear)— What do you miss like the good, old wine? J.K.M. What We May Expect in the Millennium OTORISTS exonerating each other for an accident. Boys abandoning the idea of throwing snowballs at us. -Taxicab drivers avoiding holes. Successful flashlight pictures. Milkmen doing their work noise- lessly. Everybody economical with park- ing space. Checks in every mail. Parents discouraging their off- springs’ recitals before company. Paris copying our styles. comicbooks.com