Life, 1888-09-06 · page 6 of 14
Life — September 6, 1888 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Life Magazine Page 132 **"On the Beach"** presents a romantic dialogue between a man and woman, likely reflecting turn-of-the-century courtship conventions. The ornate art nouveau illustration frames their poetic exchange about love and marriage—the man pleads "Will it be strong, but love far stronger— / Dear one, will you be my wife?" while the woman tests his devotion. This sentimental poem satirizes Victorian-era romantic idealism through its overwrought language and melodramatic tone. **"Flew Away"** is a brief comic sketch mocking an elderly woman's failed attempt to use newspaper as a fly-swatter, with a grocer observing her ineffectual technique. The humor derives from the absurdity of her method and her indignant response when questioned. The **"Bar Harbor Notes"** section provides social commentary on summer resort life, mentioning new entertainments like canoeing and "Singing Charades," satirizing upper-class leisure activities circa August 1898.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
- LIFE: ON THE BEACH. HE: ELLE, I've sought you all the morning, T return{to town to-day ; Pardon if I gave no warning, There is something I must say, -~ > / Sought so long! You must be Ad SHE: weary ! Are youill? You look quite pale ; When you go life will be dreary ! Well, I'm ready for your tale. HE; I can keep it back no longer— Belle, I need you in my life; Will is strong, but love far stronger— Dear one, will you be my wife? sue: Lie your wife? Your words seem braver ‘Than they scemed in days of yore ; But your dove would surely waver, Now as then, please say no more, ME: Ah, you jest! Though once I faltered, Failed your heart to comprehend, Never once my feelings altered, Not alone did / offend. SHE: Was I fickle in those hours? Ah, perhaps twas better so; *Mid the score that owned your powers, Aly poor heart was quite de trop ! HE: So it ends, then? I have spoken Words that live until I die; And you smile while hearts are broken ! Belle, God bless you, dear! Good-bye ! SHE: Good-bye? I could always tease you! ‘Take my hand before you go, And, if it would really please you, Keep it, Jack, for weal or woe. Wheaton B. Despard. FLEW AWAY. AHWAY OLD LADY (fo grocer): I guess you may gimme another sheet o° fly-paper, same's I got yis- tiddy. Grocer: Yes'm; I s'pose you found it very effective ? RAuWay OLD Lapy: Not very. I hadn't got it sot more'n five minutes ‘fore a 'skeeter came in, got his feet stuck, an’ flew away with it. BAR HARBOR NOTES. AvcuST 30, 1888, AFTER a night in the upper berth of a sleeping-car, we arrived here with one eye closed, and feeling generally like one of Ade- Of course, the first man we met was our old friend, Jimmy Train. Mr. Train, I am sorry to state, is so tremen- dously stout, and revels in such a ponderous ‘swell front” that, in an evil moment, I once dubbed him ‘the Vestibule Train,” and he had the bad taste to retaliate by calling me ‘ The Bald Monarch ; or, The Sutherland Sisters’ Revenge,” and so now we bow but slightly as we pass by. Speaking of vestibule trains reminds me that these new trains are truly a blessing, as, owing to the open doors, you can hear an infant screech from one end of the train to the other for as long as you are a mind to stand it, and so let us bless the man who invented them—that is, the trains, not the babies. ‘This usually cheerful place is, I regret to say, given entirely over to desolation, stag- nation and despair. It has rained steadily for a month, the hotels appear deserted, most of the cottages closed, and it only rains girls instead of the usual blizzard of that charming article. ERHAPS the event of the season has been the reception of the Canoe Club, given at its new club-house on Bar Island, Alltheold ladies and everybody went, paddling over in every conceivable kind of craft, and for the first time I was able to realize what a truly beautiful and poetical picture can be made by a stout and elderly lady in getting into and out of a canoe. In addition to this, we have had one or two mild and harmless musicals, whereat a long-necked young man endeavored to loosen a lung by reiterating in Canadian French, “Say /‘ermoor! Say l’armoor!" As nobody doubted his word or offered to contradict him, it was rather hard to understand why he should have become so worked up over the matter. The long, rainy evenings are being devoted to a new and terrible game kaown as ‘* Singing Charades,” wherein the names of songs are acted out, and the audience sings the songs in chorus when they have guessed them. Upon the first—and I devoutly trust the last—occa- sion that I participated in this form of torture, the ball was opened by a large salt codfish being hidden and then searched for fruitlessly ; this (heaven help us!) was meant to represent ‘* The Lost Chord !” Next, a well-known youth, who gloried in the appropriate name of Green, went to a distant part of the house, and there howled as though he had been looking upon the watermelon when it was green, This effort stood for Gounod's ‘* There is a Green (H)ill Far Away!" By this time I was feeling so faint that I went home, and am still so prostrated that I must stop writing for the present. ROK, laide Proctor’s poems, OWN in Georgia, “ The Watch on the Rind,” is applied to the person who guards a watermelon patch. comicbooks.com