Life, 1895-04-18 · page 8 of 18
Life — April 18, 1895 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Cartoon Analysis: "Tom Sayers" This page features a satirical dialogue between a couple debating love and commitment. The upper cartoon shows a man gesturing dramatically while a woman sits primly—illustrating their discussion about why he loves her. The main text is titled "TOM SAYERS" and appears to be a humorous monologue about acquiring a horse from "Anson's Livery" stable. The speaker compares the horse's temperament to "Napoleon Bonaparte," describing it as sinister and difficult to manage. The narrative builds comedically through increasingly exaggerated descriptions of the horse's unmanageable behavior, culminating in the speaker's frustrated conclusion that riding the horse is like being caught in an "impossible" tornado. The lower image shows "The Wonders of America: An Early Spring in Montreal"—likely a scenic illustration rather than satire.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
side of the gate and Sayers on the other. He is regarding me with his glaucous alligator’s eye. ‘Go ‘ome p'tit ange; go ‘ome by yourself! This also, pour- boire, and I dash the heaviest stone at him full in the face. “Peruse this letter, gentlemen; it is from the proprietor of the wild beast. Str: you hired a horse from Me on Monday and never returned him. he came home with a sweld Eye and ina Lather and had been cruel ill Used as witness My man. Fifty dollars will not cover It but if you send will take no Proceedings. yours Obed'ly WILLIAM ANSO! THAT WAS DIFFERENT. HE (tenderly): Sometimes, 1 wonder why you love me. HE (assentingly): So do 1. SHE (¢ndignantly): Sir! HE (explanatorily): 1 “MY MEART ITH IN IT, AND MY THOLE, AND LOVE, AND MY LIFE, AND ay very Why you love me. EXITHTENTH ITH IN ITI" “ a “ No WONDER IT MADE THAT LITTLE BOY TIRED!" ULLO, Patlon — haven't seen you for three da: TOM SAYERS. “No. Went over to Philadelphia day before yesterday 46] ET us hear about it, m’sieu ; let us hear about it by all means!” and spent a week.” * Allright, then. Last Monday I go to Anson's Liver’ stable — requiring a horse for the afternoon. Only one horse not engaged, = Anson tell me—Tom Sayers. After the prize-fightere he is named ? I ask. No; one name was a good as another; he might have been called Napoleon Bonaparte—only he was not. Quel espice de carrac- Lere d-t-il ?—his disposition temperament ?- Ho! why, I could ask his man Tom about that. I ask Tom, and Tom says his disposition is that of pet lambs. ‘Produce your pet lamb then: Iride him!" He is produced, and I say to myself ‘he has the most sinister ‘ed 1 have seen yet. N'importe, however." “With infinite labor | am at length mounted on this immense devilish ‘orse. After which he immediately rush out of the stable and chrush my lague against the gate-post. ‘ Disposition of a lamb,’ I ejaculate, ‘Brigands, liars!’ I hear them laugh, and Anson say it’s as good asa play! We shall see! “So soon as he is in the road he commence to retrog: de—mea foi, I should think so, rather! My sacred word, he retrograde ten miles an hour—yes! I encourage him: ‘ Restes tranguille, Sayers! Allons! forwards, little one! Proceed!’ Not ‘im proceed, by gar! ‘Is ‘it then that you are possessed always of a retrogressive devil, Sayers?’ ‘or answer he snorts and retrogrades up a cul-de-sac—a cul-de-sac overflowing with children, my friends, who retreat screaming from beneath the monstre. A father of one, emerging furious, asks me what I mean ;—to clear out pretty quick, or it will be worse! ‘Mean?’ I exclaim, ‘I mean nothing. This devil inside a ‘orse ‘ide alone knows why lam here!" Crac then! and the father hits Sayers a ter- rific blow on his sinister‘ed. Sayers bounds with rage, and precipitates himself on his enemies! “We fly! No longer a horse and rider, we are a tornado, destruc- tive, irresistible! How many we trample under foot irreparably I know not. [see nothing. Iam delirious with rage and terror. ‘Sayers !° I shriek, ‘evidently you are possessed with more devils than one; you are going back to ‘ades, where you belong! You take a short cut, also, alligator? for Sayers suddenly deflect up a lane terminated by a frais geutmonniavie:impoeeele: : . . THE WONDERS OF AMERICA. ** An interval of insensibility. Eventually, I discover myself on one AN EARLY SPRING IN MONTREAL.