Life, 1902-10-16 · page 7 of 22
Life — October 16, 1902 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis This page contains two distinct elements: **Left side:** A dramatic illustration titled "He: 'There is nothing new under the sun. She: 'There is something fresh under the moon, though.'" This appears to be a romantic/flirtatious exchange, likely satirizing conventional philosophy or courtship dialogue. **Right side:** A four-panel comic strip titled "Our Village Goes in for a Quiet Sunday" showing the ironic contradiction between a village's posted rules prohibiting automobiles and bicycles on Sundays—meant to enforce quietness—and the actual chaotic result when these restrictions cause pedestrians, animals, and people to clog the streets in comical disorder. The satire critiques how well-intentioned regulations can produce the opposite of their intended effect. Both pieces use humor to comment on human nature and social contradictions.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
He: THERE 18 NOTHING NEW UNDER THE BUX. She } THERE 18 SOMETHING FRESH UNDER THE MOON, THOUGH. Declined, with Thanks. POOR but proud, young,country girl once came to New York and happened to meet his Majesty, the Devil. She was both bright and fair, and quite won Satan’s heart, and so, in a paternal way, he endeavored to show her something of the town. One night as they sat together in a famons café, the Devil removed his cigarette and leaned forward with his most fascinating smile. ‘Really, my dear girl,” he said, earnestly, ‘‘ you must agree that the country has nothing to compare with this. There, I believe, you have your dews and your daisies, your meadows and larks, and all that sort of thing; but here,” he waved his hand comprehensively, ‘‘ you have the glamour, the glitter, the sparkle, the very wine of life: and all this, the empire of earth, lam willing to give you in exchange for that absurd little soul of yours, It is not worth the price, but I am a collector of souls, you know, and yours, although insignificant in size, is spotless. The white ones are extremely rare. Therefore,I have offered you an exceptionally generous price.’’ The girl glanced about her thoughtfully, on the color, the lights, the roses—on the blonde women gleaming with jewels, and the big, dark men beside them, paying the bills. Then she looked at Satan. “Thank you sincerely, Sire,”’ she said, “for your offer. I may be from the country ; but my immortal soul is worth more than a Jew and a diamond neck- lace.” Mrs. Wilson Woodrow. LIFE: OUR VILLAGE GOES IN FOR A QUIET SUNDAY. on BICYCLE ALLowso To PASS |AUTomon, on Breyeukees aug THRO v yi comicbooks.com