Life — September 13, 1923 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

I Never Go to Europe I NEVER go to Europe; I am always seeing people off on the steamer. Sometimes I think that when it’s not buying wedding presents my chief occupation in life is wandering down to the North River docks to wave a handkerchief at tiny people bound for England or the Continent, or darkest Africa or lightest Hawaii, or some other of those remote spots which have long lived for me only in the Arcadia of the mind. Coleridge once said, among several other things, that teachers are always seeing their pupils across the gangplank but never make the voyage. And that, alas! is most dismally true of me; for with the first crocus of spring begins a bustle and stir in my neighbors’ houses and away they fly for veritable castles in Spain, and away am I for the smell of wharves and the sound of harbor whistles. I know steamers from stem to stern. I have ridden in their elevators, lounged in the lounging rooms, conversed flippantly with cabin boy and purser alike, poked my head into my friend's cabin, rapped my knuckles smartly on the gleaming rail, glanced casually at the picture of the fat man getting into his last year’s life-preserver, appraised with epicurean eye the luxurious depth of the dining saloon, and murmured audibly: “Well, well, this is a fine boat for an ocean trip.” But I always get off when the whistle blows. idly I remember the time when I actually had a passage for Europe. At any rate, I was on the verge of sailing, when of a sudden, out of the warm splendor of the day, I received a message: the Robinsons were sailing on my steamer. “What!” I cried. “How delightful!” Sailing day arrived; I went to the pier and across the gangway amid a crowd of vociferous passengers. “The Robinsons! By Jove, there they are. How jolly!” A villainous blast from the whistle, and in the ultimate Voice from Radio: HEART. Teacher: 11's TOO BAD, JIMMIE HAS BEEN ABSENT THREE DAYS. “{ KNOW, MISS TEACHER—YOU MUST SCREAM AT HIM, LIKE A MOTHER.” confusion I found myself calling out good-by: I knew it I was down on the wharf and the ship was gi And I had forgotten to say good-by to the Robinsons David McCord. DEMPSEY HAS JUST DELIVERED A BEAUTIFUL RIGHT SMASH TO FIRPO’S FIRPO IS BLEEDING FROM THE MOUTH. comicbooks.com