Life, 1894-07-12 · page 12 of 20
Life — July 12, 1894 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis for Modern Readers This is a humorous short story with accompanying illustrations satirizing *new fathers and their boasting*. At a billiard club, Prospect Heights claims his seven-month-old son is "no prodigy"—then immediately contradicts himself by exaggerating the child's abilities: exceptional strength (pulling an unabridged dictionary off a table), intelligence, physical development, and a supposed sense of humor (kicking off bedclothes and grinning). His friends—Fulton Trolley and Jack Montague—grow increasingly weary listening to these obviously exaggerated claims. The joke is that Prospect Heights is exactly the type of boastful parent he denies being. The final illustration shows a dog being frightened, possibly reinforcing the theme that even animals find the boy's antics absurd. The satire targets the universal tendency of fathers to view their children as exceptional while lacking self-awareness about their own tedious bragging.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
‘LIFE: NO PRODIGY. £¢ H, no, that boy of mine is no infant prodigy,” freely ad- mitted Prospect Heights in answer toa remark from another man over the billiard table at the Pierrepont Club. “No?” ejaculated Fulton Trolley, incredulously. No, not by any manner of means,” rated Prospect Heights firmly. “By Jove! What a remarkable youngster he must be!” struck in Jack Montague, as he finished his brilliant run of six points by count- ing off nine on the string. “How many languages does he speak?” asked Fulton Trolley, interestedly chalking his cue. i “None; he’s only seven months old,” explained Prospett. Heights. “When he wants anything he simply gives a grunt and points at it— same as Montague.” Big “And like Montague, when he wants a thing he generally gets it, I suppose?” returned that individual calmly. “Pity he’s too young to know what a snap he has in not being married.” “Oh, e-r, yes—as I was saying, he’s no infant prodig: Prospect Heights with a slightly embarrassed air. “ But he is certainly quite remarkable in some respects. When my wife has him out and meets another woman with a child in her arms, she always gets to comparing notes with her. Near as I can find out women talk ‘ baby * just about the same as men talk ‘horse.’ “Never get to the trading point though, do they?” tague, as he carefully nursed the balls into a corner. “No, sir,” replied Prospect Heights with pitying contempt. “ They simply take it out in talking and discussing the fine points of their offspring. And my wife tells me that in all the comparisons she has made of our youngster with infants of different ages, sexes, colors and weights, she has never seen any other baby fit to hold a candle to him. She says he has more spunk and more hair and teeth than any other child of his age in Brooklyn, He's stronger and healthier than most of them at a year or fourteen months. Why, his idea of taking a ride in his baby carriage is to get out and push it himself, if the nurse would let him.” “Your shot, Heights,” observed Montague a little wearily. “Oh,” responded Prospect Heights, absently, as he missed an easy draw, and continued his description enthusiastically. “ But, as I was saying, you've no idea how strong the little beggar is. He fairly astonishes me sometimes. When I came home the other day, I found him playing with the unabridged dictionary. He had pulled the thing off the table on to the floor, and when I entered the room he was try- ing to get it back on the table again. I think he'd have done it too, if I hadn't stopped him. I was afraid he would strain himself lifting such a weight.” “T suppose you'll swear to that?” asked Fulton Trolley.” “On the dictionary ?" added Jack. “On anything!” said Prospect Heights defiantly. “But I can rei chuckled Mon- The Dog: UL FRIGHTEN “WHAT'ER MATTER, DOGGY ?’ tell you something more wonderful than that. You know, he’s too young to put by himself in a cradle yet, so he sleeps between my wife and me in our bed. Well, what do you think that young rascal does now. He wakes up every night and kicks the clothes off the bed. Completely off the bed and on to the floor, sir! And then he lies there and grins as ii it was the biggest joke in the world to see me get up and chassay around in the cold trying to get those clothes back into place again. Oh, he’s a terror, 1 can tell you!” “ And how old is he?” asked Montague. “ Seven months,” “ Then, you're a very lucky man, Heights,” said Fulton Trolley, solemnly, “for I consider you've had an extremely narrow escape from being the father of An Infant Prodigy!" Harry Romaine. comicbooks.com