Life, 1885-04-02 · page 12 of 16
Life — April 2, 1885 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Life Magazine Page 194 Analysis **Top cartoons ("At the Rink"):** Two skating scenes showing social interaction—a man impressing onlookers with his skating ability, with captions suggesting he'll "make an impression next round," depicting the vanity of public performance and social posturing at fashionable ice rinks. **Main illustration ("A Dead Give-Away"):** A doctor presenting a skeleton to a woman (Miss Fisher), who expresses reluctance about theatrical performances. The man beside her (Pilkins) tactlessly agrees, saying "everybody thinks that"—a joke about social awkwardness and insensitive comments. **Text essay:** A satirical reflection on human desires and happiness. The author argues that various professions (poets, comedians, clergymen) would be happier doing opposite work. The skeleton anecdote suggests that freedom from physical pain equals ultimate happiness—available to everyone eventually through death—a dark, morbid humor typical of late 19th/early 20th-century American satire. The humor relies on Victorian-era social conventions and morbid wit now largely unfamiliar to modern readers.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE RINK. AW, CHARMING. WILL MAKE AN IMPRESSION THE NEXT ROUND. NEXT ROUND. to the general notion that a poet would above everything A Deap Give-Away—Presenting bodies to a medical choose to have a rhyme for silver, or to get a new idea from | college. an old unread author, he would be more truly happy to = change his jingles and ravings into dollars and cents. One will sigh, “Oh, that I could only sing!" whilst his | friends will attain bliss more perfect by his keeping quiet. A comedian would be happy if he could only get anyone to sit out his performance of King Lear, while a tragedian would like to play the fool. A churchwarden delights in a well-filled collection-plate, though we doubt if it could ever be filled sufficiently to elevate him to actual happiness. Last summer when the thermometer was sizzling up among the nineties, we thought we should feel real good if we could don the kilt—like a whiskered ballet girl—and drive an ice-cart, from the inside, but now we would derive more pleasure from stokering a furnace. . Going to a doctor yesterday, not for happiness but advice, he showed us what we considered was the nearest colorable imitation to the real genuine thing. The skeleton in his cup- board was a real dona fide articulated man skeleton, with a blissful eleven-inch smile. He seemed happy. He knew his bones contained no nerves. Nothing for aches and pains to take hold of. He knew the doctor couldn’t punch him in the ribs and ask, does it hurt ? after the manner of doctors. Nothing in this world from elections or earthquakes could alter his serenity. We cannot say it was specially consoling on the doctor's part, but he assured us we should be as free from trouble as his cupboard friend was ; that we needn't hurry, it would come in time. This blissful state we now assure our readers is within easy reach of all—even of the poorest. Miss Fisher; {1 REALLY DON'T THINK I SHALL TAKE aaa PART AGAIN IN THEATRICALS, I ALWAYS FEEL AS as —_ . THOUGH I WERE MAKING A FOOL OF MYSELF. BAR-TENDERS’ FAVORITE POEM.—Drink, Pretty Crea- Pilkins (who always says the wrong thing): OH, EVERY- ture, Drink, BODY THINKS THAT. comicbooks.com