Life, 1889-08-01 · page 3 of 16
Life — August 1, 1889 — page 3: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Life Magazine Page Analysis This page contains a poem addressed to "The Author of 'The Wail of the Rejected'"—likely a contemporary literary work—praising the author's wit and romantic sensibility. The poem uses Victorian courtship language ("silken snood," "tangled hair"). The cartoon shows two men in conversation, with one appearing disheveled or working-class (checkered clothing) and the other well-dressed. The caption mocks the first man's drinking problem and general appearance, suggesting a social commentary on class differences or the effects of poverty/vice. The "Night Work Generally" section below appears to be a short comedic dialogue involving characters named Suburb and Rastus (a period name reflecting racial stereotyping), discussing yard maintenance—likely satirizing domestic servant relationships or class dynamics of the era. The bottom illustration depicts beach or seaside leisure activity.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
VOLUME XIV. NUMBER 344 ele blele TO THE AUTHOR OF “THE WAIL OF THE REJECTED.” OU say you're nearly thirty, ~'>- (I'm past it by a year) And that no man has fallen Beneath your bow and spear; so | ood q ¢ ¢ q q q 4 q q 1 ¢ 1 q BAD ORD RD RD RD 1 ODD AD DDD HD OD CD DO _ co) —_ And in your op'ning verses In lacrymoso mood, Unto a spinster gravestone You feelingly allude. I care not much for beauty, Complexion dark or fair, But—in imagination— I rave of tangled hair. I love to think of tresses Beneath a silken snood, While chic and Paris dresses Are so much to the good. And then you're bright and witty, For I will stake that few Could read your breezy verses And think aught else of you. So, if I only knew you, My very foremost speech Would be to ask you sweetly To stroll upon the beach. And there in the summer moonlight, Which shines upon the shore, And which the little wavelets Have nicely silvered o'er, Who knows what might not happen !— Perhaps, if you'd allow, I'd call yon disc to witness Another lover's vow. “BOVE, YOU'D BETTER GIVE UP DRINK, ME DEAH BOY; YOUR EYES ARE ALL BAGGY AND YOUR NOSE 18 CRIMSON.” “THAT'S ALL THE WAGE NOW, OLD FEL, THE DEAH PWINCE WEARS HIS THAT WAY, Y'KNOW,” NIGHT WORK GENERALLY. R. SUBURB: Uncle ‘Rastus, I wish you'd go over to my place and clean out my hen-house, UNCLE 'RaSTUS (with a grin): What! In broad daylight, sah? U SHER (én Hades, announcing): An Asso- ciation umpire. His SATANIC Majesty: Oh, well, let him go—he got his on earth.