Life, 1899-12-07 · page 13 of 20
Life — December 7, 1899 — page 13: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**Top Section ("Solid Enjoyment"):** A satirical poem celebrating a man's evening freedom at his club, specifically his resolve to avoid newspapers—the *Sun*, *Post*, *World*, and *Journal*. He orders Life magazine instead, preferring it as daily reading. This is self-promotional satire by the magazine itself, mocking the sensationalism and heaviness of daily newspapers while positioning Life as superior entertainment. **Bottom Cartoon ("Misery Loves Company"):** depicts "John Bull" (Britain, personified) and "Uncle Sam" (America) commiserating about insomnia. Both appear exhausted, suggesting both nations face similar political troubles. The context suggests this references shared anxieties—likely imperial or diplomatic concerns of the period—where both nations find grim comfort in mutual suffering. **Middle Story:** A humorous anecdote about Scottish Presbyterian hellfire preaching, satirizing stern Calvinist clergy and their threats of damnation. The page overall reflects American magazine humor: self-promotion, international commentary, and religious satire.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Solid Enjoyment. APPY tho man, within his club at ease, }- Clean-shaven, dressed, adinner neatly spread, Who looks upon the wine when it is red (And slightly warmed), bis napkin on his knees, Thinking, if he's a lawyer, on his fees, —At any rate, contented with his day— Who can at last, with independence, say, “Prom now to midnight I'l do what I pleaso: «1 will not read the Sun, nor eko the Post ; “The World and Journal! Faugh! Let Dana roast ~Creveland and Schley, and so forth; one thing sure, “No line from magazine may I endure: “Waiter! bring this wook’s Lire — I wish it were a dally; “Brandy and soda, too—T'il end the ovening gaily.” NE may safely conclude from the following story that the good old faith of Calvin is very much alive yet. An American lady who was in the Highlands shooting with her husband, attended the local kirk one Sunday morning, but Icft it with scandalous precipitation. For an hour the good minister had been flercely raging at his benighted congregation, and wound up: MISERY LOVES COMPANY. John Bull: YOU PON'T LOOK MAS IP YOU SLEPT MUCH, HUNCLE, Uncte Sam , T DONT SLEEP ANY SORE. 497 “And pairhaps” (with pious cunning) “*ye'll be thinkin’, ye wairtbless waistrels, that ye can daddle intac Paradise by clootchin’ tac my coat-tails! Dinna be deceivit, for mark wecl” (a pause of stern and holy joy), ‘when the Trump of Gabriel soonds, I'll sneck them aft!” Proved. IM: This Administration is as futile and ineffective and useless and— His Wire: It is, John, it is. Why, there isn’t a single letter box with a slit big enough for you to mail a bundle o papers, “OW EXTREMELY NOD! SVE GOT THR BLOOMIN’ INSOMNIA MESELP, YE KNOW—SIAKE!