Life, 1897-06-03 · page 3 of 20
Life — June 3, 1897 — page 3: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Life Magazine Page (Volume XXIX, Number 754) This page features "Spring Fever," a poem by E.S. Martin expressing nostalgic longing for Boston. The accompanying photograph titled "An Age of Miracles" depicts what appears to be a social gathering or séance scene, with the caption noting "Society possesses a power that is almost magical" and referencing transforming "an ass into a lion." The juxtaposition suggests satirical commentary on high society's supposed sophistication. The poem romanticizes Boston's charm and intellectual culture, while the image's caption implies skepticism about society's actual transformative powers—using the ass-to-lion reference (likely from Aesop's Fables) to mock pretensions of social elevation. The humor targets both nostalgic Bostonians and society's inflated self-regard.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
VOLUME XxIX ‘LIFE: NUMBER 754 AN AGE OF MIRACLES. The Hostess: “IT DOES, INDEED, HOW FASILY, SOCIETY POSSESSES SPRING FEVER. I WANT to go to Boston! There's something in the air— The breath of spring; some restless germ unnamed; it's everywhere— That somehow makes my spirit loathe all tasks and discipline, And seasonably stirs it up to bolt the rut it’s in. Oh, clang of gongs oncable cars! Oh, rattling trains o’erhead! Oh, hustle of this driving town! Oh, life too briskly sped! ‘Twixt you and me ‘twere sweet to put a temporary gap, And go and sit awhile in Boston's calm, commodious lap. ‘Tis true, it’s not the town it was some twenty years ago, For even Boston can’t neglect its Yankee right to grow; But still, one finds a peerless club just where one found it then, And gazing out on Beacon Hill those same good Boston men. a POWER THAT IS ALMOST MAGICAL. INSTANCE, IT TRANSFORMS AN ASS INTO A LION,” I want to play with them awhile, and hear their Boston prate, And note their spreading dearth of hair and irksome gains in weight; And, just as an experiment, there might perhaps be tried One Boston cocktail's work in an abstemious inside. I want to drive on Brookline roads, past homes where lives are spent In fiscal ease, and sport and intellectual content; And see the Dedham polo sharps their livers’ weal promote, And hear on India wharf the lay that greets the Portland boat. Oh, Boston, sweet are your delights, and though they may seem vain . To minds austere, my spirit craves the taste of them again. Oh, heavenly town when onc is tired! this good one may discern In you that Heaven has not, since one may taste you, and return, E. S. Martin, comicbooks.com