Life, 1888-12-27 · page 21 of 43
Life — December 27, 1888 — page 21: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page presents a sentimental Christmas editorial wrapped in Victorian sentimentality. The central image is a circular calendar wheel depicting the twelve months, each illustrated with figures representing seasonal characteristics—January's cold, February's glitter, spring's growth, summer's harvest, autumn's arrival, and winter's return to Christmas. The accompanying essay argues that true Christmas spirit transcends material wealth. While referencing wealthy industrialists like Astor, Vanderbilt, and Jay Gould—names synonymous with gilded-age excess—the writer insists that rich and poor alike experience dull days without proper mindset. The piece invokes Dickens's *A Christmas Carol* ("God bless every body"), positioning Christmas as fundamentally about love for one's neighbor rather than expensive gifts or lavish food and drink. This reflects late-Victorian middle-class values: Christmas sentimentalism, moral elevation over materialism, and gentle criticism of extreme wealth disparity—without advocating systemic change.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
CHRISTMAS DECEMBER, ~ Number. 1888, ANUARY sparkles cold, J February glitters ; March comes in a muddy scold, April sobs and titers. Tracking close her bridesmaid May, Blushes June with roses sweet. Then the smell of new-mown hay, Then the waves of golden wheat ; Then the sentinel of fall, Then the wizard month of all. lum f \ Then the fireside glows, and then be Christmas comes to earth again. ental ersian pieces c.. of anied A Uittle Word in Wour Ear. s an / >f-* OR all its particular friends The millionaires, or even the moderately well-to-do, can go LiFe wishes, as the very fin- down the street and buy all these things, and if they had the iS. e, re trated est of Christmas acquisitions, aproper frame of mind. Gifts are well enough in their way, and we hope to make a few, and to take with grateful ap- preciation all that come to us. Food and drink are very well, as far as they go, and we trust that a fair measure of each may nestle under our waisttoat and send cheerful feelings up into what, with the making of Christmas in them, Mr. Astor or Mr. Vanderbilt or Mr. Jay Gould could count with accuracy upon having the most splendid time that ever was. But we know that either of these gentlemen is almost—not quite, but almost—as liable to have a dull day of it as you or I, or the lady on the corner who sells apples, or the gentleman who leaves our morning paper on the doorstep. Food and drink and gifts are handy things for Christmas; and take care that, so far as lies in you, all the world shall have these things—but they don’t make the day. It is the state of mind that does that, and the state of mind that is needed was Tiny Tim's when he said, “God bless every- utiful ( gentle reader's kind permission, we body!” tyle call our brains. But neither gifts, nor Look up or down the street, brethren, there is your neigh- : food, nor drink can make a Christmas. bor. If you love him, Christmas is a succes: you are comicbooks.com