Mr. Milquetoast happens to read the fine print on his theatre ticket
Mr. Milquetoast is asked by a Californian and a New Yorker if he is going to the World's Fair.
Mr. Milquetoast, a few minutes late for the curtain, misses the entire first act, rather than disturb the person next his aisle seat
No Loitering
Astronomy in the Nineties
Mr. Milquetoast, whose bank account shows a balance of $16.05, has been told that fear is largely responsible for our present condition
Gee, Rody! Just look what a swell World's Fair we could have!
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 never likes to be seen looking at undraped statuary
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.
"You Don't Think That Ends it, Do You?"
Her first love, Richard Harding Davis' Van Bibber.
The days when theatre passes grew on trees
The Nazi prisoner who said New York had been bombed flat
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 writes at length to some market tipsters, giving them a list of his almost worthless stocks.
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
Whenever Mr. Milquetoast meets a friend at the steamer he imagines he is suspected of smuggling
Recognition from a master