Life — June 28, 1928 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

Lil FE MRS. PEP’S DIAR June My first day at home in seven, Sam and I having made a pil- 6 — grimage by motor since Me- morial Day, during which I did gain material for an eloquent speech before the Hotel Men's Association, and I do hereby solemnly resolve that never again shall I engage rooms at an inn without going thoroughly into the matter of bed lights. Lord! when I consider the various. stat- utes with which we Americans are af- flicted, why can we not have one more requiring every public host to place a reading lamp by each guest's bedside? Nor do I know which was worse on our journey, the Pickwick Arms in Green- wich with none at all, or the Hotel Thayer at West Point with two that would not work. And I with Mistress Lowndes’s “The Lonely House,” ap- parently the only copy left in the world, too, for to secure it for me Mary Lowe did bribe the superintendent of a hospital ae | on the Riviera with twelve books to re- place it. Marge Boothby in to see me, and | mention the matter to me, good friends I could swear that she has had her hair lightened since last I saw her, albeit done | so cleverly that she did not see fit to though we are. So I did not take my eyes off her head the while we talked. Nor would I agree to share a French teacher with her, neither, being full able to shop and keep house in French, if need be, | and if I should ever sit next M. Paul | Claudel at dinner, we can converse in| English. Whereupon Marge cattishly ad- | vised me to do something further for my dyspepsia, and when she had gone I did ponder seriously on her counsel, for of late I have had qualms which do bring me into closer sympathy with those who boast that they cannot cat cucumbers, a fact of which | had thought for many years they should have been honestly ashamed. But I shall never admit a single pang of indigestion to anybody, having been told all my life that a day would come when | should rue my penchant for pickles at all hours. My bridge cronies for lunch- con, and since they have been clamoring for a buffet meal so that no time of play be lost, I did serve them lobster Newburgh with allumette potatoes, very tasty, and salad and coffee afterwards, but Fifi Fitler, in her haste to trump a lead of which nobody would June Hotp-up Victim: Pardon my asking, bet before you put that watch in your pocket will you give me the correct time? have fancied her void, did overturn her entire plate in her lap, so by the time we had cleaned her up, we might as well have sat at table and been served in a civ: lized fashion. During one rubber I did make a bad and costly revoke, having game in my hand, and after my partner | had queried me, too, but I do take credit to myself for not having said in great bewilderment, “I never do that!" which is what those who renege always exclaim upon discovery, when as a matter of fact it is exactly eight years since I have made such an error. The Bannings to dinner, and Edith, who has been visiting her | Southern relatives, did tell how one of them was renting out her copy of “The President’s Daughter” at a dollar a read ing in order to raise money for her church guild, but why anyone should want to read such a book, even for cha- ity, is beyond my comprehension. Early to bed, endeavoring to catch up with the | periodicals which did accumulate during our absence, but when I did come upoa an article by Bertrand Russell in which he said that billiard balls really do not touch, the contact being merely a local war of electrons, I thought it might be just as well to try to get a little sleep. Baird Leonard. T auw Smithi marve terned Petit for L. AMATEUR June: I'm just wild about Herbie, aren’t you? Mae: Yes, but his kisses don’t sound like the ones you hear on the Vitaphone. Servant: Your bath is ready, sir. Mr. Pute: Never mind the bath, Kito; I’m not in good voice this morning. comicbooks.com