Life — August 9, 1929 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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

You must have correct patterns in your hose. They must hold their style. Over long miles of strenuous wear and repeated washings, Phoenix fine, sturdy texture retains the smartness of new socks. They provide correct style with unusually long service. Priced at 50c to $2.00 a pair. SIERY ‘Twixt the Cup (Continued from Page 11) trip over them and the four lie still, in a huddled heap. Good old Shelby, clearing that mass! The pace slowed some, horses and men getting their second wind and settling to a steadier gait that would carry them better for the four miles of the course. As Shelby cleared the first jump tor the second round, he still led. As Hands up! they came up the stretch he could hear the crowd cheering. Over the cornstalks again. Ned wasn’t afraid now—all he cared about was to keep on and win. Three more jumps. Shelby hit one and stumbled, but he stuck on somehow and they got going again. They swung into the stretch at the last jump and the blood hammered against his temples, for he still led. The race itself he cared about hardly at all, but after this—Anne. Just this jump and it would be all over Steadying his horse, Ned went at it. Suddenly to his horror he saw lying calmly on the landing side of it, as though she were in the quiet of her yard, a big red setter serenely gnaw- ing a bone. Ned Potter's blood half froze in his veins. People were ges- ticulating madly, one man was mak- ing frantic efforts to call the dog away. He thought of the sharp steel of his mount’s hoofs cutting into the silki- ness of the setter’s coat, and in that second forgot everything except that he must not crush that helpless mutt. With a lunge he pulled with all his strength on the right hand rein and before he had time to realize what he Was giving up with the race, Shelby hit the fence. Accompanied by the hoise of a thousand horses beating their hoots on his brain at once, he passed MiG a stitte of aL peace. When Ned came to he was lying in the tall grass beside the fence where he had fallen. He opened his eves and saw to his vague wonder that his head must be in Anne's lap because he was looking into her eyes. “Oh, Ned!” He closed his eyes again because he knew she must be reproaching him, He felt’ something warm being poured down his throat and heard a voice saying, “That's eighteen-sev- enty, Vane, but if it pulls him ‘round he’s welcome to a gallon of it, by gad.” Ned coughed and opened his eyes He was quite sure that he was com- pletely dead and dreaming all this, for he saw Carey kneeling solicitously above him. ‘The old man was speak ing: “Can 1 tell him now, Anne, how much [ think of him for risking his damned neck to save that prize setter pup of mine, or do you want t Ned Potter closed his eyes He wanted to go on dreaming. ‘Live within your income’ is the best advice I can offer to anybody,” says a business man. The income-tax people, meanwhile, seem to be doing their best to make us live without ours. —Humorist. “Holiday evening frocks should not be squeezed into already-bulyging suit- cases,” says a fashion hint. The best plan is to send them on ahead by post in a roomy foolscap envelope. —London Opinion “Pappa, vat is science?” “My, how could you be so stupid! Science is dose things vat says ‘no smoking.’ ” —Everybody's Weekly. A famous cowboy film-actor is al leged to have attempted to evade pay ment of income-tax. Nothing secms too hazardous for these dare-devil heroes of the “movies.” —Punch. Cuatry—O, he's so romantic. When he addresses me he always calls me “Fair Lady.” Catty—Force of habit, my dear. He's a conductor. —Chicago Tribune. comicbooks.com —