Life, 1899-05-04 · page 14 of 20
Life — May 4, 1899 — page 14: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This humorous story satirizes the domestic battle between a husband trying to avoid his wife's home remedies and her unstoppable determination to apply them. **The Setup:** Mr. Witherby discovers his wife's arsenal of Victorian-era cold medicines—camphorated oil, turpentine, mustard plasters, and other noxious treatments—and sneaks them out the window into an ash-can, believing he's escaped her curative clutches. **The Joke:** His effort is literally futile. Within minutes, he sneezes (betraying his cold's existence), and his wife Mrs. Witherby appears "like a guardian angel," triumphantly announcing she has *additional* remedies downstairs—flaxseed and red-hot plasters—ready to deploy. **The Social Satire:** This mocks both the ineffective "patent remedies" of the era and the stereotype of the well-meaning but overbearing wife who weaponizes household medical care. Witherby's defeat is inevitable—she will have her remedies applied, regardless of his protests or deceptions.
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* 5 z 3 é S . rf a é 4 2 = g a é é 8 g 2 a Fy 5 A Futile Effort. HAVE not a moment to lose.”” As Witherby whispered theso words to bimself he burried off his walking shoes, and, en- casing his feet in noiseless felt slippers, stepped softly to the head of the stairs and lis- tened intently, Yes, she was busy in the kitchen, Rapidly going to the linen closet, be opened the door furtively and gazed within, Thoro, amid ghostly urray of bottles, he detected his old enemies, tho camphorated oil, turpentine, and Mother Wiuklenod’s sure cure for coughs, There, also, reposed the deadly box of double-strength mustard plas- ters that, oven as he gazed, drew tears to his eyes. With the cool Jutrepidity of o brave man in the face of danger, Witherby gathered the whole massof car- bolated mixtures, syrups, boxes, Vottles and powders into a great paper bag, and, with the training that yet lingered from his days on the baseball fleld, threw his burden with straight aim out of the back window into the open mouth of a waite ing ash-can, “There,” be muttered, trium- phautly, “if this cold develops during the night, my wife won't have a chance to try uny of these remedies on me.” It was two o'clock in tho morning. In spite of his ut- most effort, Witherby bad. sneezed one moment before, Mrs. Witherby, like a white- robed guardian angel, stood in- stantly at his bedside. “I knew that cold wag com- ing on," she said, with a joyous, therapeutic sniff. “Nonsense!” replied Witb- erby. “Can't a man sneeze? Bosides,” ho added, securely, “there isn’t a thing you can do for me, You've tried about everything on me,” 0 I haven't,” replied Mrs, Witherby, with aglad smileand @ brooding - hen manner that boded no good to the victim, “T haven't tried flaxseed, For- tunctely, I bought two pounds to-day, and it's downstairs in the kitchen now, and I'tl have a red-hot plaster on your chest in ten minutes.”