Life, 1898-04-14 · page 5 of 20
Life — April 14, 1898 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Life Magazine Page 317 The page contains three literary pieces rather than political cartoons: 1. **"Ancestral"** - A humorous illustration of a character in period dress (hat, coat) accompanies a poem toasting "Pilgrim Sires" and the founding generation, satirizing reverence for ancestors while suggesting modern readers lack their character. 2. **"A Whispered Dialogue"** - A brief comic exchange between husband and wife about a dinner guest—the humor relies on domestic marital miscommunication. 3. **"To the Rescue"** - A dramatic prose passage describing a desperate, determined man in a woman's reception room, with accompanying illustration. The narrative appears to be sentimental Victorian fiction rather than satire. This page showcases Life's mixed content format of poetry, humor, and serialized fiction rather than primarily satirical cartooning.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Ancestral. RINK to our Pilgrim Sire Those men of a sterner da Who lighted Freedom’s fires On the shores of Plymouth Bay. But drain no flowing bowls, No festive greetings tend; Nor hope, in wine, those sunless souls Will soften or unbend. To them, who frowned on pleasure, On music and on art; Who thought man’s richest treasure A narrow, iron heart That loved a ruthless duty More than parent, child or wife: Who hated Nature's beau Who blighted human life: To them waste not your grape-juice, Keep that for something wider. Better for present use The unrelenting cider, So then, your glasses fill: Drink to this band of brothers, Whose pious joy it was to kill The cheerfulness of others, Jo Ae Mitehalt, A Whispered Dialogue. Hespan?: Didn't IT tell you that the man I was going to brir home to dinner was a Broadway bus ness man? Wire: Yes, dear. Why? “Then what in the world have you got ham for?” To the Rescue. HERE fs not a moment to lose!” It was precisely 8:15 p. m., and be fore the little French maid in her recep- tion-room there stood a desperate and determined man, his haggard face lined with care, his mutilated hands twitching nervously, his evening clothes disarranged, “ *LIFE: and his whole bearing showing unmi able evidences of a recent terrible conflict, “This morning,” he suid, rapidly, ‘you left us without warning, before we could get someone to take your place. You must return immediately. Money is no object. In acrisis like this there is no time for long. explanations and recriminations. Come!” Awed by that supreme look, which in critical moments compels submission, the woman he addressed was already hurry: ing into her sealskin cloak and adjusting her fifty-dollar hat. 317 “Tell me, wonsivur.” she said, quietly, “what has happened ?” Her visitor clutch arm. “Listen,” he replied, quickly, as he bur ried her rapidly down the stairs and into the carriage. ly wife and I are going to the theatre to-night. For the past thr quarters of an hour I have tried, y means known to science and mechanics, to hook up her gown in the back, and unless you come at once and do it we shall miss everything but the last act.” 1 her firmly by the “There stood a desperate and determined man,”