Life — August 2, 1929 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

Hessy: | suppose breakfast is ready. I hear you scrap ing the toast. Believe It Or Don't On July 18, 1929, Egidius P. Whiller of New York City, automobiling with his family in a small Connecticut town, inquired of a man on the street where there was a good place to cat. The pedes- trian did not reply, “I don’t know—I'm a stranger here myself,” but directed Mr. Whiller where he could go to get a good meal. Mr. Clement Baskert of Indianapolis, Indiana, was sitting on the front porch of his home with his wife, the evening of August 8, 1928, when it sud- denly began to rain. His wife said: “Clem, I'm sure it’s raining in up-stairs.” Mr. Baskert groaned, got up and went up-stairs. And, sure enough, rain was actually coming in through the open windows of their bedroom! Ata party, on the evening of October 1, 1927, Jonas Purt, a citizen of Brooklyn, N. Y., while play- ing bridge with his wife as his partner, took the bid away from her and was set three tricks. She remarked: “Too bad, Jonas, you played it beauti- fully anyway.” A conductor on a passenger train was discovered in April, 1929, who did not wear a ring. Upon Sept. 12, 1926, Mr. John P. Battercorn, a prominent business man of Crossburg, Ohio, re- turned home after a tour of Europe. “I hated like hell to come back here and have to look at these terrible buildings again,” he remarked to a local teporter at the depot. Mr. and Mrs. Chester Bott of Maywood, Indiana, were greatly annoyed upon a Sunday afternoon in 1927, by the mad crying spell of their only child, a boy aged four. “He gets that temper from your father,” said Mr. Bott. “Yes, Pa had just that kind,” agreed Mrs. Bott. —Fred B. Mann. Lovesick Surtor (trying suicide): And if she's not lookin’ out the window—I'm an awful sap! comicbooks.com