Life, 1900-06-07 · page 10 of 28
Life — June 7, 1900 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Infant's Book of Sport" by Oliver Herford This page presents two illustrated poems about animals and hunting, written for children. **"The Fox Hunt"** depicts dogs chasing a fox, celebrating the sport as "Healthky Pleasure." The poem mocks the fox's predicament while presenting hunting as entertaining and wholesome. **"Coursing"** shows a hare escaping, with commentary that the hare is "Short / Of Brains" and doesn't understand sport—implying the animal should accept being hunted as natural. Both pieces exemplify early 20th-century attitudes normalizing blood sports for young readers. The illustrations present predator-prey dynamics as morally neutral entertainment. The condescending tone toward the animals (calling the hare "Queer") reflects period assumptions about animal inferiority and human sporting rights that modern readers would find troubling.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE FOX HUNT. H, Fox, you've had a merry run. In all the world there's no such Fun, As over Fields and Fences free To chase a Sporty Fox and be In Wood or Field, What can more Healthy Pleasure First at the Death, Than this? What say you, Curlylocks? Well, no! Perhaps not to the Fox «LIFE : The Infant’s Book of Sport. By Oxtver Herron. COURSING. HE Hare is off, he does not lag! He's glad to leave that stuffy Bag And play a little game of Tag. Will the Hare Win? Oh, not at all. He cannot go beyond that Wall. Ab, now he's Caught! Why So very loud? Quite Queer! The Hare, my Child, is Short He does not know its Sport. es he Squeal yield He makes me feel Of Brains. GOT Hereafter, when you want any shopping done in town, you do it yourself. I carry no more bundles! Not only that, but you hire your own man THROUGH! AND I'VE servants. You will also attend to the marketing, and if it exceeds a certain sum a week, I'll take it out of your allowance. As for your buying me any more clothes of any description, why, I won’t have it. I’m through, Sarah! Hereafter I run this house to suit myself.” The whistle of the train interrupted Tipton at this point, and his face began instinctively to lose its stern, unyielding expression and take on a more plastic and humble tone. Tipton was nearing home. Every day for years he had rehearsed that same speech to his other self, and every day, as the whistle sounded, he had merged back into the old burden-bearing and tract- able husband. He slowly gathered up his bundles and trudged away from the station. “My dear,” said Mrs. Tipton, as she relieved her husband of his freight, and kissed him in a half-motherly way, “ we are going out sailing.” “When?” said Tipton. “Now,” replied his wife. “ Mr. Vanton has a new boat, you know, and he has asked us to go this afternoon.” “He didn’t come around here, did he?’’ said Tipton, faintly. That, he thought to himself, would be too much. He had never liked Vanton overmuch, and that gentleman had been known to pay attentions to certain married ladies. Tipton was, therefore, sus- picious. “Certainly not,” replied Mrs. Tipton, who, despite her authoritative tem- Surviving Chocolate Cream ; THANK GOODNESS, WE'RE SAVED! THEY'VE STARTED TO EAT ONE ANOTHER!