Life, 1887-04-21 · page 5 of 16
Life — April 21, 1887 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "A Great Problem Solved" This page from *Life* magazine presents satirical content about theater etiquette. The top cartoon, titled "A Great Problem Solved," depicts two scenes showing crowds of women wearing elaborate high hats blocking theater audiences' views. The caption reads: "Just give the high hats one side of the theatre to themselves, and much joy to the lovely dears!" The satire targets a recurring social complaint: women wearing fashionable, oversized hats to theaters, which obstructed other patrons' sightlines. The "solution" humorously suggests segregating hat-wearers to one section—a mockingly impractical remedy to this persistent period annoyance. This reflects genuine frustration with theater-going etiquette violations among fashionable ladies of the era.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Right of he Basle THE RHYME OF THE SAD-EYED MAN. I™ a doleful, sad-eyed man, with a tendency to gloom— And very mournful, sombre, grave convictions ; I'm lachrymose, despondent—my dreams are of the tomb ; And I'm always full of trials and afflictions. My tones are quite disconsolate—my eyes are filled with tears ; I'm the victim of a harassing reflection ; T avoid the flowing bow!—for ‘tis said it only cheers— And I find my only comfort in dejection. I'm bilious, jaundiced, joyless—I'm cheerless, saturnine ; My heart is always heavy :—I'm splenetic, Dispirited and solemn—I lament and mope and pine, And I take a grim delight in things pathetic. I am married to a wife, and we lead a grievous life, For she's depressed, low-spirited and dismal ; But I find a consolation in our never-ending strife, And especially her moments paroxysmal. tre of tb Ritle I'm morose, ill-tempered, churlish—my appetite is light ;— I enjoy what Burton has to say of vapors ; And I take immense delight in fearful dreams at night, And I revel in the wit of English papers. The world is all forlorn, and the universe awry ; Funereal, dark calamities will fix it. I scowl and frown and grumble—I droop and moan and sigh ; I've a sorrowful expression like Don Quixote. Then I'll foster melancholy, and welcome clouds and rain ; I'll go about despairing, sobbing, moaning :— I'll seek all things unpleasant, and in ecstasy of pain, T'll die downcast, disheartened, wailing, groaning ! A.M. RUSSIAN NOBLEMAN died recently whose name was too long to be sent by cable; but it is gravely asserted that he could shell an ear of corn with it, and have enough left over for a barbed-wire fence, a nail-claw, and springs for a mattress. comicbooks.com