Life, 1884-04-17 · page 12 of 16
Life — April 17, 1884 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Explanation for Modern Readers This 1880s-era Life magazine cartoon satirizes African American church leaders engaged in a high-stakes poker game, disguised as prayer meeting discourse. The sketch depicts three men—identified by dialect as Reverend Smith, Deacon Williams, and others—using religious language as cover while conducting an increasingly desperate card game. The satire works on multiple levels: it mocks both the hypocrisy of clergy gambling and employs racist caricature through exaggerated dialect ("Dat's not de speret ob de Gospil"). The humor relies on ethnic stereotyping prevalent in the era. The escalating stakes—from dollars to clothing to personal possessions—underscore the foolishness of the participants. The cartoon's title, "Tread Softly, Niggas—Tread Out So'ly," references cautionary behavior, though the full satirical intent appears directed at exposing religious hypocrisy rather than delivering social commentary beyond mockery.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
quired the Deacon, in wild remonstrance. “ Dat’s not de speret ob de Gospil.” “Whar—whar yo’ fin’ draw-poker in de Gospil ?” testily rejoined Mr. SmitH. “ Does yo’ tink de Possles ’n de ’Vangelists writ de Scripter after rasslin’ wid a two-cyard draw agin a flush?” he sarcastically in- quired. “Vo, Brer ANGUISH. Less ten’ ter business. Dis ain’t no prar meetin’—ceptin’ Brer WILLIAMS seems to be on de anxious seat.” “ Who—wo’s on de anxious seat ?” asked Mr. Wit- rams, hotly. “ Yo’ jess come on ; I rises yo’ fo’ dol- lahs.” The Deacon sadly ran over his hand.“ De Gospil, Brer THANKFUL,” he began ; “de Gospil.” “Cheese dat,” said the Rev. Mr. SmitH. goin’ ter pray or poke ?” “T’se gwine ter poke,” he replied ; “I’se gwine ter see yo’ rise”"—here he shoved up a stack of blues— “an’ Brer Toot’s rise”—here he shoved up another stack—‘‘ an’ I ’se gwine ter rise it jess a leetle, ’cordin’ ter de speret ob de good book "—here he shoved up six dollars. Mr. Wuirrtes fled. Mr. Jackson was breathing still, but that was all. The Rev. Mr. Smiru glared defiance. “I rise yo’ back.” - “7 rise yo’,” said Mr. WILLIAMS. “ An’ I rise Toot,” said the Deacon. The Rev. Mr. SmitrH was aghast. He was dealing, and knew by intuition that he would catch his fifth club, but there was a serenity on the other side of the table which affrighted him. “Is yo’ “T jess—jess calls,” he said. “T calls,” said Mr. WILLIAMs. “ Help de genelmen,” said the Deacon, with the bene- volence which invariably accompanies a pat hand. Mr. Wituiams broke his two pair and drew to his club. The Rev. Mr. Smitu got his club. “Six dollahs,” said the Deacon, after Mr. WILLIAMS had timidly ventured one chip. “T calls,” said the Rev. Mr. Smitu, sullenly. “T rise dat six mo’,” said Mr. WILLIAMS. “T rise yo’ six,” said the Deacon. “T calls,” gasped Mr. Smiru, shoving up his last chip and his snuff-box. ‘ “Six mo’,” said Mr. WILLIAMS. “Six mo’,” said the Deacon. Mr. SmitH shucked off his overcoat and added to it his spectacles. “I calls,” he said, as though speaking from the tomb. “Six mo’,” said Mr. WILLIAMs. “Six mo’,” said the Deacon. “J—I hain’t got nuffin’ mo’,” said the Rev. Mr. Situ, faltering. “Shove up dat watch,” said Mr. WILLIAMs. “Soak dem new boots,” urged the Deacon. “An’ dat golhedded cane,” suggested Mr. JACKSON, who, of course, however, had no business to speak, and was accordingly suppressed. The Rev. Mr. Smit hesitated. Then he sighed and threw up his hand. To his great astonishment Mr. Wi.uiaMs did the same. The elder softly hummed a hymn, tried the focal length of Mr. Smiru’s spectacles, comicbooks.com