Life — August 20, 1925 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

Antiphony “The heights by great men reached and kept Vere not attained by sudden flight; But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night.” —LoncreLiow. MUST have been mistaken, then. I thought that great men did so well Because they slept while other men Were sitting up and raising hell. Baird Leonard. Afternoons in Bellevue Making Advertising Pay RAZY HARRY looked carefully about him before whispering cau- tiously to the Fricd Egg: “I suppose you saw in the paper where the French Government has leased the privilege of advertising on the Eiffel Tower to an auto company?” The Fi Egg gave a start. It was cult, in one jump, to leap from the g-pan in which he was sizzling so omfortably into the midst of a con- versation with his friend. ‘I'm sorry,” he replied diffidently, “but I haven't read the papers at all lately and I've had no time for sports.” “You never read anything but cook- ” grumbled Harry, and relapsed into silence. The Fried Egg was plainly disturbed at his companion’s quiet. Golfer: \'ve COT A NIBLICK WHICH I PAID TWELVE DOLLARS FOR. Dumb Dora: WHY DIDN'T YOU PAY A LITTLE MORE AND GET A BUICK? “Do you care for prunes?” he asked at length, in-a desperate effort to draw him out conversationally. But a new light had come into Harry's eyes and again he glanced around for ‘possible cavesdroppers. “If the French can do it, why can't we?” Harry continued, gazing at the Egg defiantly. The latter beamed with pleasure. “That's just what I have always con- tended,” he answered. “They have a dozen names for fried eggs that make them sound twice as appetizing and ex- a ““NOW, CYNTHIA, THINK WHAT IT 1S YOU DO, YOU DOT YOUR T's AND CROSS YOUR “on, I KNOW. YOU CROSS YOUR LEGS.” pensive. But in this country a fried egg has no class at all. Now you take a prune, for instance——" “I won't,” snapped Crazy Harry abruptly. “I'm still sticking to the Eiffel Tower, if you don't mind. Now—" “They should have greased it first,” suggested the Egg, who considered him- self an expert on such matters. But Harry went on rapidly, paying no at- tention to him. “Now my plan is this,” he said. “I will make a fortune leasing the ad- vertising concessions for the White House, the Mint and the backs of women who attend the Inaugural Ball. Just think of the display!" “Liver pill signs on the White House would be wonderful,” sighed the Fried Egg, “but wouldn't the public object?” “Don't be an idiot,” answered Crazy Harry. “Look at the signboards they have stuck up in the best parts of the country. They don't mind them, do they?” Again he glanced about. “Expecting some one?” asked the Fried Egg curiously. “No,” explained Harry, “I'm just afraid this idea may get out.” “Out—out,” repeated the Egg spec- ulatively. “There! I knew that re- minded me of something. Like a good fellow, see if the gas hasn't gone out under me, too, won't you?” Tracy Hammond Lewis. Better Form HE Who taught you how to swim? Sune: Nobody, but my sister taught me how to sit on the beach, comicbooks.com