Life, 1885-06-18 · page 11 of 16
Life — June 18, 1885 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Explanation for Modern Readers This is "Combination No. 9," a humorous two-panel cartoon from *Life* magazine satirizing Irish immigrants and their stereotyped speech patterns and behaviors. The left panel shows "An Amateur Humorist"—a man telling an absurd story in exaggerated Irish dialect. The right panel depicts the "Combination" or punchline: physical comedy of a man slipping or falling. The accompanying text presents Mrs. Nolan recounting a tale of a servant girl with a "crooked eye" supposedly causing household disasters. Her son later brings home hand grenades (mistaking them for fire-fighting equipment), instructing the maid to throw them at fires. The humor relies on ethnic caricature: mocking Irish pronunciation ("sez," "shtraight," "wid"), superstition about the evil eye, and dimwitted misunderstanding of modern safety equipment. The final joke—Mr. Coogan asking if it's "base-ball"—suggests absurd confusion. This reflects *Life's* era of casual, derogatory stereotyping of immigrant populations that would be considered offensive today.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
tL AN AMATEUR, HUMoRST 3, ComsivATioN COMBINATION No. 9g. at all, at all. ‘ Bridget,’ sez he, ‘her eyes are not shtraight,’ sez he. ‘I don’t like google-eyed paple in the house,’ sez he. * Look out, or she ‘ll be afther lookin at ye or at Tummy, an’ bewitchin’ ye wid her ayvil eye,’ sez he. But, wud ye belave me, Mr. Coogan, she only looked crucked whin she wuz narvous or oxcoited, and gineri:lly her eyes wuz as shtraight as yer own in yer hid. She had n't bin in the house over two days, d’ ye moind, whin I dropped the flat-oiron on me fut, scalded me hand, an’ broke two chiney dishes in wan mornin,’ and that same day Tommy got inter the kitchen an’ eat up three pounds of raishons, an’ waz shriekin’ wid epleptic con- wulsions all noight; so 1 began ter put some faith in her bewitchment mesilf.” “Roight for ye,” said Mr. Coogan, nodding approvingly at | Mrs. Nolan. “ That wuz bad loock enough, so it was.” | ‘em, did ye say?" sez I. “ Will, that wuz only the beginnin’,” continued Mrs. Nolan. The nixt thing wuz yisterday mornin’ whin Tirry cum home wid a bashkit full o° little, round, green bottles. ‘Phat 's thim ?’ sez I. ‘Is it Christmas-tree toys, or is it patent midi- cine?’ ‘ Nayther,’ sez Tirry ; ‘it's a family foire departmint,’ sez he. ‘Since we have no tilegraft in the house,’ sez he, ‘an’ insoorance is so expinsible, I've bin afther buyin’ some han'-greenades ter put out foires wid.’ ‘Is it limonade is in ‘No,’ sez he. ‘They're greenades, Bridget. The bottles is green an’ they aid ye ter put out a foire,’ sez he. So Tirry hung up wan dozen bottles in the parlor near the dure (where that woire rack is, Mr. Coogan), an’ instroocted Mary Ann how to ixtinguish foires wid thim, by trowin’ thim at the flames.” “Ts it base-ball that it is ?” inquired Mr, Coogan. comicbooks.com