Life — December 25, 1925 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

“DON'T YOU WANT TO TAKE A CHANCE ON THAT LAMP?” “No, INDEED, I MIGHT WIN IT.” November My husband, Poor wretch, did awaken this morning 30th with so keen a thirst that he bawled for me to fetch him an um- brella stand full of cracked ice and seltzer lemonade, so, saying nought to him, I did order Katie to make such a mixture in one of my Colonial vases, which gigantic quantity, to my aston- ishment and terror, he did quaff almost at one swallow. Then, after speeding him to his labors, I did sit me down to the new game of patience which Evvie Cummings taught me yesterday, being unable to put my mind on aught else until I had tried once more to sec if I could not make it come out, and greatly shamed at my weakness, too, for Lord! I do never fall to cards before luncheon without feeling that I am making a direct bid for what happened to Sodom and Gomorrah, and that be- ing turned into a pillar of salt would be a suitable punishment for such shift- lessness. Finally to the publick prints which I did fail to read yesterday, marvelling again that actresses permit cartoonists to make such hideous draw- ings of them, to say nought of publish- ing them, but I have been told that stage folk must do whatever they can for publicity, and after viewing a sketch of Laurette Taylor which would frighten a child, I can well believe it. Feeling restless, I did summon Mary Eyre to luncheon with me, promising her to have chipped beef in cream, baked potatoes and watermelon pickle, so Mary came, and we had a satisfac- tory gossip, during which it did de- velop that neither of us could explain the saying, “Little pitchers have big ears,” albeit we had heard it all our lives. And I did show Mary my new evening gown in which I feel as if I look more “sweet” than anything else because of the bunch of white flowers on one shoulder, but Mary reassured me as to its chic.... This night to a gay revel at the Jumble Shep, at which I could not have had a better time had I been seventeen years old. Decemb All agog to-day over the ar- rival of Town and Country Ist with its pictures of the Butler Ames’ villa on Lake Como, which caused Sam, upon his beholding them, to say with a sigh, If I lived in as beautiful a place as that, I should never lay up a cent. In me they did awaken a strange wanderlust, even if April isn't here, and I did wonder aloud what luck I should have if I ap- proached three strangers, as the woman did in Elizabeth's book, with the propo- sition that we make a trip to Havana, or some other pleasant place, wher upon Sam suggested that I should prob- ably get as far as some nice psycho- pathic ward or a padded cubicle to my- self somewhere in Connecticut. To luncheon at Clara Baldwin's, where was a dull zany who monopolized the co: versation so that it could never become general, so I did attend strictly to my food. But when he said, in speaking of the Jews, Well, I take off my hat to them! I could not refrain from pointing out to him that he had prob- ably been obliged to buy the hat from them before taking it off, thus causing Clara to glance nervously in my diree- tion, and I do derive much satisfaction and amusement from her having con- fided to Sam that she would invite me more frequently to break bread with the pompous bores whom she affects if she could be more certain as to what I should do or say. For now I do ac- cept all of her invitations, going blithely to her house in the expectation of being able to annoy her at least once. Tea at Willie Brooks’ to-day, where I was again impressed with the reflection that rich and unattached men always have hors d’ceeuvres so grand and varied that they look artificial. Resolved, never to touch red caviar again, foras- much as after eating it I do always feel as if I must visit my dentist to get my teeth back to normal....Dined alone with Sam on a fine rack of lamb, and then to the playhouse to sce “The Vagabond King,” a stirring piece, with ravishing settings and costumes by Jimmie Reynol and there was a brave song in it which made me ponder that the man who prefers writing his country’s songs to partaking in its legis- lation has no mean task before him, forasmuch as if citizens are to march, the tune must be compelling. Baird Leonard. Excitement TRANGER (to native): Anything ever happen here? Native: ‘Tain't necessary. The postmaster takes a city paper. comicbooks.com