Life, 1894-06-07 · page 11 of 16
Life — June 7, 1894 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Life Magazine Page 373 **Top Image:** A crowded formal ballroom scene depicts a hostess overwhelmed by guests. The dialogue satirizes poor event management—the hostess complains people "can't sit down," while Sir Hugh dismisses her concerns as excessive worry. The humor targets the social chaos of overcrowded formal gatherings and the gap between hosts' expectations and reality. **Bottom Content:** "An Astral Romance" is a humorous poem by Gustav V. Drake about a Theosophist from Calcutta who spiritually "courts" a Boston maid through astral projection, while she remains unaware. The joke mocks Theosophy—a popular early-20th-century spiritual movement—by depicting its supernatural claims as absurd. The couple's souls commune while their earthly selves remain strangers, satirizing both Theosophical pretension and romantic incompetence.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Hostess (in crowded ball-room): On, SiR HUGH, ISN'T IT TOO BAD! HALF THESE PEOPLE CAN'T SIT DOWN. Sir Hugh (astonished): GOD BLESS ME SOUL; WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH THEM ? Hostess (laughing): Wuy, Six H HOW WITTY YOU ARE. Sir Hugh «ll more astonished): RALLY! AN ASTRAL ROMANCE, H E was a bold Theosophist Who dwelt in far Calcutta. To sce his astral shape none wist He dealt in eggs and butter. She was a lovely Boston maid, A maid of haughty manner, Who gazed askance on men of trade And talked well of Nirvana, One day their astral bodies met Somewhere by the Sahara, Said she, ** He is the noblest yet !” Said he, “* No maid is fairer!" Then for a week or more these two, In soulfulness disporting, Spent many a moment in the blue Of ether coyly courting. “GETTING THE SON IN HIS EYES.” And later by the Pyramids Their astral selves were wedded Down where the Sphynx up to its lids In hot sand lay embedded. He never knew this Boston maid Was quite a snob in manner, And looked askance on men of trade When outside of Nirvana, She never knew the soul she'd wed, That dwelt in far Calcutta, Had always earned his daily bread By selling eggs and butter ; And as their souls seemed always glad While they twain were communing, I never told them—'twere too bad To spoil such blissful spooning. Gustav V. Drake. Comicbooks.com i