Life, 1897-10-14 · page 5 of 22
Life — October 14, 1897 — page 5: what you’re looking at
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# Analysis: "The Female Bomb-Thrower" and "The Impossible" **"The Female Bomb-Thrower"** satirizes anarchist activism, specifically women's involvement. Jane Jorkins, described as an anarchist with an empty mind, is encouraged by "the Master Anarchist" to throw a stolen bomb at a tyrant. The poem mocks anarchists' grandiose rhetoric versus actual effectiveness—the bomb kills only other anarchists, not the intended target. The satire targets both anarchism's violent methods and the perceived foolishness of its adherents. **"The Impossible"** is a brief dialogue about a Cambridge student's social awkwardness at Harvard. It's a light joke about upper-class college life and social etiquette—specifically, the difficulty of dining with refined people when one lacks proper manners. Both pieces reflect Life's conservative editorial stance criticizing radical politics and satirizing social pretension.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
—N The Female Bomb-Thrower. A TALE FOR AMBITIOUS CHICAGO MAIDS. ANE JORKINS was an Anarchist, J Of the Anarchistest kind ; Her tongue was geared to ninety-five And empty was her mind. Therefore she was K. X. Q. G. Of the Bull's-eye’s Inmost Dot, Right Angle of the Triangle And part of every plot. But, oh! she yearned for dynamite, Fat bombs she longed to fling; “Loud talk is good,” said she, ‘‘I trow, But action is the thing.” Out spake the Master Anarchist: **O woman, have thy way! A tyrant of the blackest dye Rides down the street to-day, ‘* His bank account is very fat, His hate for us is keen, And, blackest of all sable sins, His skin and clothes are clean. “« Take thou the stolen gaspipe bomb, Of all our bombs the pearl, And fling it in the tyrant’s path; We'll stand and watch, my girl.” She flung the stolen gaspipe bomb, Well-stuffed with nails and glass, IN “IT WAS LUCKY I STARTED FOR The bomb of tin, the bomb of lead, And one of deadly brass, The smoke rolled off; the tyrant sat And viewed the scene with awe; Seven Anarchists stretched in a row And each one dead, he saw. Unscratched, unharmed he sat, and said, “Keep me in humble mind; My fate had been the same as theirs Had I but stood behind.” Mora. Mark how preposterous it is Good dynamite to waste, To steal the gaspipe, steal the nails, And blend the charge with taste, If, when the work is truly done, A woman's erring hand May whirl it south to Uruguay Or north to Baffin Land; May pierce the Klondike iron soil, Wrap London Tower in flames, Hit anything beneath the sky Save that at which she aims! Stephenson Browne, SOMETHING ON FOOT. ALASKA. HERE ON A HICKORY FRAME BICYCL. The Impossible. [Rachel and lkey out wheeling.) RACHEL: Vhy are you so quiet, Tkey? Ikey: How can I talk, vhen 1 am afraid to take my hands off the handle-bars ? HE circumstance that a scion of the house of Vanderbilt has entered Harvard College is recorded just now ia nearly every batch of Cambridge news. Now then, good contemporaries, give that young manarest! It is well that we should all know where he is pursu- ing education, but it is not necessary that we should have weekly information as to what he eats and drinks and studies, and what games he plays. There have been young men of large expectations at Cambridge before, and though a Vanderbilt is something of a novelty there, this young fellow’s pres- ence there is not an event, but only an occurrence. comicbooks.com