Mr. Milquetoast, whose bank account shows a balance of $16.05, has been told that fear is largely responsible for our present condition

Mr. Milquetoast writes at length to some market tipsters, giving them a list of his almost worthless stocks.

Recognition from a master

Mr. Milquetoast is asked by a Californian and a New Yorker if he is going to the World's Fair.

What! You haven't heard about Henry? Why he was the 19,583,691st person to enter gate four at the World's Fair! Mr. Whalen sent him his photograph!

Mr. Milquetoast happens to read the fine print on his theatre ticket

Mr. Milquetoast never likes to be seen looking at undraped statuary

When the girl of the gay nineties saw her first Gibson picture and realized that all men were not the snub nosed, freckled, gangling roughnecks she had become accustomed to in her own little town.

Mr. Milquetoast, a few minutes late for the curtain, misses the entire first act, rather than disturb the person next his aisle seat

The inspiration to become an autograph collector

Mr. Milquetoast never feels quite so inferior as he does when passing one of those haughty show window dummies

Astronomy in the Nineties

The days when theatre passes grew on trees

Her first love, Richard Harding Davis' Van Bibber.

No Loitering

The days when theatre tickets grew on trees

Gee, Rody! Just look what a swell World's Fair we could have!

Whenever Mr. Milquetoast meets a friend at the steamer he imagines he is suspected of smuggling

Mr. Milquetoast adjusts his garter

After miles of walking at the fair, you finally arrive at home, kick off those hot, tight shoes, and spend the balance of the evening wriggling your grateful toes.