Life, 1898-03-24 · page 14 of 20
Life — March 24, 1898 — page 14: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three separate satirical pieces from *Life* magazine: **"Not the Kind"** mocks yellow journalism's war-mongering. A man tells a missionary that sensationalist papers wouldn't want actual war because it would kill their readers—the irony being that those same readers don't fight anyway, only consume the inflammatory coverage. **"A Lost Word"** by Carolyn Wells parodies literary criticism's obsession with author Ian Maclaren's repeated use of "when" in his popular *Kailyard* fiction. The poem humorously describes the word as an invasive, maddening force that has infected the narrator's mind. **The bottom cartoon** plays on Philadelphia's motto "City of Brotherly Love." A man (labeled "ST. BERNARD") appears at what seems to be a street festival or gathering, with the caption suggesting his appearance—possibly his size or demeanor—resembles a St. Patrick's Day celebration rather than the refined "brotherly love" Philadelphia claims. All three pieces use humor to deflate pretension in journalism, literature, and civic identity.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“Well, my: man, I'm missionary Not the Kind. ee I SHOULDN'T think the yellow papers would want war, It would kill off so many of the reading population.” “But the people who read the papers wouldn't fight.” slow A Lost Word. “In reading Ian Maclaren’s * Bonnie Brier Bush,’ have you noticed the power with which he uses the word twhen? t" —The Bookman's “Letter-Bor.* EATED one day in my study, I was weary and somewhat blue, And my e; The books sent in for review. s were scanning idly I know not what [ was reading. Or what I was writing then, But I struck a blooming adverb— Tt was Ian Maclaren’s “IW/en,” It Hooded the purple ether Like the cough of a croupy clam, And it lay on my cerebellum With the touch of a battering ram. It stampeded the startled si- lene With raucous clangor rife: It seemed the distorted echo Of a joke out of last year's Live, It smashed all its maudlin meanings Into one perfect mush, And wiggled around through the debris In a sort of a briery gush. I have fought, but [ fight it vainly, That “when” of dazzling shine, ‘That came from the Head of the Kailyard And entered into mine. ay be the gifted author ve us that guff again; It may be that only when dramatized I shall hear that wondrous “ when.” Carolyn Wells, 0 civilize yous [ wonder why that Philadelphia girl wanted me to : a brother to her ? Nep: Why, isn't Philadelphia the City of Brotherly Love + . BERNARD! IT LOOKS MORE LIKE A ST. PATRICK.” comicbooks.com