Life — April 15, 1897 — page 5: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Age ap AAA ah PR v WHY, NO! HE IS MAKING A WINTER SUN: out across the ice for the Pole. Even this adventure was robbed of most of its terrors by the wonderful foresight of preparation and the efficacy of scientifically concocted food. Nevertheless it was a constant exhibition of strength, nerve and alert adaptation to chang- ing conditions. Here, too, the dogs furnished the only tragic element. They had to be slaughtered to feed cach other! * * * ND when you tire of the sledge journey, the curtain goes up on Act Third—a lonely hut on Franz Josef Land where the two spend the winter. This is the ‘‘ Robinson Crusoe” of the Arctic. The devices and con- trivances that are evolved for their comfort, the comedy of bear shooting, and walrus hunting, and the three or four ‘* narrow es- capes" from disaster, make this the most absorbing part of the book. Even here the heroes were comfortable and grew fat. PLAY like this mustend with a satis- factory Fourth Act. And it all turned out right with Nansen! The unexpected meet- ing with Jackson, the dramatic journey home along the coast of Norway, the reappearance of the Fram at just the right dramatic minute, the re-union with his wife, and the royal wel- come atthe very end of the journey, bring the curtain down in a blaze of sentiment and glory. The book is fascinating from first to last, independent of the undoubted scientific value of the exploration of the unknown Polar Sea, Droch, pT, WITH A LITTLE HUT IN THE FOREGROUND. EASTER MORNING. RIGHT shines the sun thi ster morn, The south wind's gently blowing, And they who feast at Plenty’s horn, Who grasp the rose and miss the thorn, Whose mission here is to adorn, Now churchward think of going. On other Sundays of the year The bell has also sounded, But then they did not always hear, The hand of Sleep was to the ear, Their minds were blank —and therefore clear — And Conscience was impounded. But on this morn so bright and fair, The pageantry inviting, When everybody will be there To utilize the well-bred stare And that fine, patronizing air, Then not to go were slighting. So as the Easter chimes ring out To call the congregation, All hurry forth to join the rout, i LLM a Gratin trreence yee NO! 11'S A BICYCLE AT LasT! AND— PROTRACTED, “Text you think Talk- ington a brilliant conversationalist ? ” “Yes, a sort of torchlight procession,” “How's that?” ‘‘Takes him hours to pass a given point,” And critically look about With glances tinged with jealous doubt Or scanty approbation. Ah, Easter bells! Ah, Easter bells! That call them to devotion, We know not what in each heart dwells, Nor why the bosom fills and swells, But eye-flash from the church-mask tells ‘Tis not devout emotion. Wood Levette Wilson, comicbooks.com