Life, 1900-04-26 · page 5 of 20
Life — April 26, 1900 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Life Magazine Page 357 This page contains two separate satirical pieces from early 1900s Life magazine: **"His Custom"** (bottom left): A domestic humor sketch mocking husbands' inconsiderate behavior. The caption jokes that fathers never have time to come home, yet when inside, they habitually sit by the door—suggesting men are simultaneously absent and obstructive in household life. **"A Credible Performance"** (center): Brief text describing Mrs. Tremoira's panicked reaction to a flaming oil lamp accident. The humor derives from her dramatic overreaction and Mr. Tremoira's deadpan response to near-disaster. **"Our Heroes Three"** (right): A poem celebrating three types of men—the youthful romantic, the ambitious opportunist, and the failed poet—whose various fates (death, imprisonment, obscurity) are presented ironically as heroic. The satire critiques sentimental notions of heroism. The illustrations are period pen-and-ink drawings typical of early 1900s magazine comedy.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Copyright, 1900, by Liye Publishing Co HIS CUSTOM. He (nervously): DOES YOUR PATHER HAVE ANY REGULAR TIME POR COMING IN? “NO. DOOR STEP AND WaITS.”” A Creditable Performance. ¢¢7-\H-H-H-H-H1" came In a prolonged scream from Mrs, Tromoirs’ Ips. Mr. Tremoirs looked quickly up from bis BUT IP HE THINKS THERE 18 ANYONE INSIDE, HE USUALLY SITS ON THE paper, and was immediately propelled into a jump clear across the room by seeing the lamp on the table beside him flaming flercely towards the coiling. 357 “Throw it out of the window, Stella, “Quick!” commanded Mr. Tromoirs, with raro presence of mind. Mrs.Tromoirs made a couple of ineffectual dives for the lamp, but retreated baffled and wringing her hands, “Now, don’t get panic-struck, Stella,” advised Mr, Tremoirs, from where ho bad ensconced himself behind a large leather chair. “Throw it out immediately or it will explode the first thing you know.” “I'm—I'm afraid of it,” confessed Mrs. Tromoirs, reluctantly. “ Pehaw!” snorted Mr, Tremotrs, shrink- {ng closer under cover as the lamp flamed higher. “ Isn’t that just like a woman, no earthly good in anomergency? Doas I tell you, Btella. Throw it out this instant.” ““Why—why don’t you do it yourself?” faltered Mra, Tremoirs, stung intoaudacity by his reflection on her self and her sex. “What? Mo?” cried Mr. Tremoirs, in tho extromity of astonishment at such a suggestion, “Thero! There! Now's your chance, Stella, tee, it’s nearly out now. Quick! Quick!” he continued rapidly, as the flame sunk to nearly its normal level. Mrs, Tromoirs made a desperato dash, seized tho lamp and flung it forth into the garden. “By Jove, it’s lucky I was hero!" ob- sorved Mr. Tromoira, with heartfelt thank. fulness, a minute or two later, while they . stood at the window watching tho expiring struggles of the ofl to appear brilliant. “I don’t see what you women do when there isn’t a man around to keep a clear head in an accident.” And to tho ovorlasting credit of Mra, Tremoirs be it recorded that she didn't even say, * Ahom!”* Alez, Ricketts, Our Heroes Three. H, one was young and glad ard gay — He took to kissing girls, and fast He fell ; tho nation stood aghast! His glory passed away. And one thought highly of himself— He seized tho blatant trump of Famo And shouted prates to his namo : They laid him on the shelt. And one—though hard to spoil—at last, Weak, with more praiso than man could bear, Called for the Presidential Chair— And 80 his glory passed. It’s this, to bo a people's hero ; An honest honor grandly bought, One fault in tact will bring to naught— To 0, 0, 01 F. Dana, Ba first of the weak — Eve. comicbooks.com