Life — May 28, 1925 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

“WHAT DOES SHE DO, COMMANDER?” “OH, ABOUT SIXTY KNOCKS AN HOUR.” Sad, Very Sad TTENDANT (in insane asylum) : This unfortunate man is our worst case. He is not only a_ hopeless lunatic but also a victim of St. Vitus's dance. Visitor: Indeed! that way? Artenpant: He tried to observe all the laws. How did he get A Scant Mouthful HE OLD GENTLEMAN: What's your baby brother's name? Tue Kin: William Leon Archibald Gustave Eustace Billings, but we all call him William Leon Archibald for short. HE Prince of Monaco is quarreling with the gambling authorities. But it isn't the first time they've split. THE OLD MAN’S HOME White House Chit-Chat (“William Randolph Hearst_ was a guest to-day at the White House for luncheon. The publisher had nothing to say as he left, but indi- cated that the subjects discussed did not bearson public questions.” —Washington dispatch.) M® COOLIDGE (politely): You're a newspaper man, aren't you, Mr. > —ah— Mr. Hearst: Hearst is the name. Why, yes, I am. : Coouince (more politely): I've often thought it must be an extremely fas- cinating profession. You must have some very interesting experiences. Did you ever meet the Mayor of New York —Mayor—ah——? Hearst: Hylan. Yes, I've met him. Coouwce (after a short pause): What paper are you on, Mr.—ah——? Hearst: Hearst. W. R. Hearst. Why, to tell you the truth, I'm con- nected with several. Cootince: Oh, yes, of course, of course. Every little bit helps, I sup- pose. Hearst—Hearst—where have I heard that name before? Didn't you own a horse once, Mr. Hearst? A horse? Why, in Mexico, but Cootince (a bit petulantly) : I'm sure I heard that you owned a horse. A horse named Exhaust or Brake Lining —no—Spark Plug, that’s it! Hearst: Oh, Spark Plug! Well, you see, Spark Plug isn’t exactly a real horse. He's just a picture of a horse. Cootince (after mulling this over for some time): Odd! But no matter. By the way, Mr.—ah—Hearst, I knew a newspaper man once myself—chap named Collins, of the Bellows Falls Times. He came to see me once about a picture and a write-up. You know him, of course? Hearst: I'm sorry, but I can't say I do. Coouwwce (perplexed): Very odd! I thought all you newspaper chaps knew each other. Well, Mr.—ah—Hearst, I suppose you will have to be getting back to the office to call up people or practice your shorthand or some- thing. Tell your editor it was very kind of him to let you off for an hour for luncheon. If you ever want a pic- ture for a write-up of me, there's prob- ably one around the house somewhere. Good-by. Not a real horse,” he said, “just the picture of a horse.”...The man must be crazy. Tip Bliss. comicbooks.com