Life, 1883-04-05 · page 6 of 16
Life — April 5, 1883 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis The page contains three separate satirical pieces from *Life* magazine: 1. **"Great Odds"** (top cartoon): Shows military officers and civilians on a cobblestone street. Brown remarks "We must go home, there is the clock striking one," while Jones responds "Nonsense; that's nothing; what's one among so many?" This appears to mock casual attitudes toward military casualties or losses during wartime—treating individual deaths as insignificant amid larger numbers. 2. **"Unidentified"**: A brief text piece joking about the White House being haunted by a "hungry" old gentleman's ghost, playing on folklore about presidential hauntings. 3. **"An Amateur"**: A comedic dialogue between Miss Dizzy and Mr. Crusher about amateur theatrical performances and society amateur-hour productions, poking fun at upper-class dilettantes attempting serious drama. The page satirizes military indifference, superstition, and amateur theatrics among the social elite.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
GREAT ODDS. Brown: “Goop HEAVENS! WE MUST GO HOME, THERE IS THE CLOCK STRIKING ONE.” Jones ; “ NONSENSE ; THAT'S NOTHING; WHAT'S ONE AMONG SO MANY?” UNIDENTIFIED. Tuey say the White House is haunted by the ghost of an old gentleman which makes the presidents hungry for change of air. This is credible enough. The strange part of the story is that persons who have seen the ghost deny that it answers to the description of the statesman of Gramercy Park. AN AMATEUR. Scene.— The parlor of a fashionable mansion not far from St. Thomas’ Church, Time, 9 P.M. Miss Dizzy discovered entertaining Mr. Crusher. Miss Dizzy: It’s so awfully good in you to join our Society. Mr. Crusuer (smiling blandly, and rubbing at the edge of his opera hat): Thanks, very much, I'm sure ;' but do you really mean it? Miss Dizzy: Of course Ido. They say you are too lovely for anything as a leading man. I suppose you play all the great parts—Hamlet, Macbeth, and that sort of thing. Mr. Crusher: Well, no, you know. That is a little out of my line. I started out that way, but, you know, they said I didn’t have the physique, or something of that sort, don’t you know. Awfully cut up about it at first; for, you know, I rather like the rdle of Hamlet. Something for a fellow to do, you understand, Gave it up, though ; and now I play Montague parts, don’t you know. The society lover business, and all that. Miss Dizzy: You must be too charming for anything. I suppose you are up in all the modern plays. Our Society is ambitious—oh, very—and we won't play in anything but the sensations of the hour. Got tired of ‘* The School for Scandal,” “The Rivals,” and such easy plays. We do the ‘* Passing Regi- ment" next. | There is a lovely part in that for you. I hope you pet it, because then—then you will make love to me. Won't that ¢ jolly? Mt R. CRUSHER (blushing and twisting his base-ball side whiskers): Delighted, I'm sure, You are too awfully good to say just such a thing. Miss Dizzy: Thanks awfully. But you do look so much like one of the real novel lovers, don’t you know, I'm sure you would be just too splendid—in a play. Mn. CRUSHER: Ye-es—only in a play? Miss Dizzy: Of course. That is what I said. Mr. Crustter: You—you are quite sure you mean—mean only in a play. Miss Dizzy: Quite. Mr. Crusuer (rising and moving toward the door): 1—I— didn’t know—you understand, I have—that is, I might make love--ha—ha—off the stage. Miss Dizzy: Not really? Mr. CrusHer: Yes. Good evening. comicbooks.com