Mr. Milquetoast is asked by a Californian and a New Yorker if he is going to the World's Fair.
Mr. Milquetoast never likes to be seen looking at undraped statuary
Mr. Milquetoast adjusts his garter
Mr. Milquetoast writes at length to some market tipsters, giving them a list of his almost worthless stocks.
Mr. Milquetoast never feels quite so inferior as he does when passing one of those haughty show window dummies
Mr. Milquetoast, a few minutes late for the curtain, misses the entire first act, rather than disturb the person next his aisle seat
Mr. Milquetoast happens to read the fine print on his theatre ticket
Mr. Milquetoast, whose bank account shows a balance of $16.05, has been told that fear is largely responsible for our present condition
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!
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.
Astronomy in the Nineties
The days when theatre passes grew on trees
Recognition from a master
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.
The inspiration to become an autograph collector
Gee, Rody! Just look what a swell World's Fair we could have!
Her first love, Richard Harding Davis' Van Bibber.
No Loitering
The days when theatre tickets grew on trees
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