Life, 1886-09-30 · page 11 of 16
Life — September 30, 1886 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Life Magazine Page 199: Analysis ## The Cartoon The top illustration depicts two men in conversation—one named Charley complaining his name is "beastly," while Miss Spade responds that he should be happy since "a hoe can never be a rake." This is a simple pun-based joke playing on surnames: a "hoe" and "rake" are both garden tools, with "rake" also meaning a dissolute man. The humor relies on wordplay rather than political or social commentary. ## The Text Content The page contains three satirical advice pieces and anecdotes: 1. **"Letters to My Curate"** — advice to a clergyman about sermon-writing, cautioning against intellectual arrogance, autobiographical tangents, and inappropriate humor 2. **"What He Had"** — a brief dialogue with dialect humor involving an African American character and unpaid whitewashing debts 3. **"A Loser"** — a Charleston earthquake joke where a tramp lost a bet rather than property The content reflects early-to-mid 20th century sensibilities, including casual racial stereotyping in the dialect humor.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Charley: THE ONLY DRAWBACK ‘TO ME IS MY NAME, HOE IS'SUCH A BEASTLY ONE, YOU KNOW. Miss Spade: But, CHARLEY, YOU OUGHT TO BE VERY Hap! LETTERS TO MY CURATE. 1.— THE SERMON. EAR C.:—I accept your frank invitation to give you such advice as my age may make helpful to you. ; 1 know the parish well, and much of what I say applies to it alone. Let me remind you at once that your function is not | especially that of an educated, unemployed good fellow. I | could pick out a number of such in the parish now. First, about your sermons. Some men are born with great talents | and with marvelous ability to work rapidly and well. Be assured, however, that your random boasts about sermons written after twelve o'clock Saturday night will impose upon only the itching-to-be-married, of which there is a large and easily satisfied contingent in the parish. Besides this, many of the men see you Sunday only, and they may wonder what | you do from Monday morning till Saturday at midnight, | True, most other men are inaccurate when describing their own imposing and time-eating duties, but you must not be tempted by the subterfuges of the World and the Devil. Remember always that there are some things you do not know. The habit of intellectual arrogance for an hour a week in the pulpit should not be allowed to grow upon you. Omniscience is no longer fashionable since the death of Carlyle. Do not “touch at length” upon the care and training of children. You are a bachelor and a moment's thought will prove to you the wisdom of this advice. Beware, too, how you indulge in the pulpit the license of a Talmage or a Collyer, and talk about yourself. Autobiography is not impressive at your age. Do not attempt in any one sermon to tell all the pro- fessional and several branches of the industrial world what | for me, do not tell funny stories in the pulpit. | their troubles and trials are, and just how to avoid them. | There might be members of one or another of these present. If you have any respect for your profession, and any affection If you believe | with Beecher that all your talents should be used in the ser- vice of the Lord, recall the fact that some of his have been out of place. If you have a streak of the low comedian in you, work it off at the wood-pile. Do not try to get all the exercise you need during the delivery of your sermon. It is better to punch a sand-bag than the pulpit cushion, it is more strengthening to swing five- pound Indian clubs than to swing your fists. Above all things do not cry in the pulpit. It may be good for the women, but it plays the old Harry with the men. WHAT HE HAD. HAT’S the matter, Uncle Rastus?” he asked facetiously as the old man came limping in, “got “ | the gout?” “No, sah, Ise got de bill fo’ dat whitewashin’ what I did fo’ yer las’ yeah.” N unmarried grocer, must of necessity be behind the times because he has to mate, to ketch up. A LOSER. RAMP: Please help me, I am a Charleston sufferer. OLD GENTLEMAN: Ah, indeed—a sufferer by that awful earthquake? What did you lose? TRAMP: I lost a bet how many shocks there was. comicbooks.com