Life, 1905-09-28 · page 7 of 24
Life — September 28, 1905 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is Chapter 1 of a serialized satirical story by K-the-ne C-C-L th-rst-n (author name obscured/encoded). The narrative follows two characters, Bilgoat and Loaded, who are wandering through London fog and discussing their identities and social positions. The main illustration shows two well-dressed men in top hats and overcoats—appearing to represent wealthy or aristocratic figures. The caption reads "How singularly unlike we are," which is ironic given their nearly identical appearance. The satire appears to target social pretension and class distinctions: despite claiming to be different, these masked figures are practically indistinguishable. The "mask" metaphor suggests people hide their true nature behind social performance and false personas to maintain their status.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
-LIFE- 363 The Masked Parader. C-C-L TH-RST By K-TH- Cuarter | ‘ ILGOAT was wandering through a London — the money; but for our country’s sake, Lam willing to re- fog, the visible, externalized symbol of deem for you your place in Society and in Parliament.” the fog within his brain, when he sud. denly ran into Loaded. Cuarter If. i * he murmure absently, by something odd un ely struck a match id illumination, both ckly with a si Iyoat and Loaded were ging their clothes, preparatory to exchanging their identities, Loaded stooped down to tic his shoe. As he did A few days later while B cha his voice, immedi In its strong, sudden oath escaped y Jove!” fretiully eyes were fixed upon a ed's head soa men drew back q rp ex His id patch on the crown of Load- had not noti nation, for curiously, but unmis: other in y resembled } y fespect save that they did not The latter smiled. “It is an ugly sear. The thing hap- ) doplesimithe:tenst alike In some mys: pened years ago in New York. One night there an us way, they were subtly, indefinably dif- accident on the Subway or the ‘L.’ [ forget which. Among ferent, | “How. singul unlike we are!’ said Bilgoat, | I had noticed it, ied his companion calmly ves me an id goat spoke with nervous haste: | “why should we not change places? There are times when 1-1 wish to be a There wes pause. Then Loaded lifted his veal. “Whiskey or morphia?” he asked quietly Neither,” answered the other, drawing his coat furtively about him, “its worse, It's onions and Henry James's novels. Perhaps you think of them as pleasures,” with a ort. bitter laugh, “Oh, if you but knew the tortures of the mind, always striv erce the fog of James’s work. lured on by gleams of f Hy Jost. And the tor ity and only getting more pro- the body, fierce crav raw onions; the necessity of increasing the ing for onions, de | with a st what is to me,” until eve full of ps Ihave put my withdrawal fr gr mn the world down to es; but ‘nerves’ will not go longer. People are ny sniff x to suspect, th draw near me. I beg you to take my plzce, to represent me in my home, in Society, in “[mpossible.” sa “we are totally dif in appearar “L thought of 0 before I met “and had this mask constructed * returned the other, he held it auts“you see it faithfully represents my every feature. No one will sus pect that it is a mask unless they can see how it is fastened Now this is adjusted with a spring.” “L couldn't think of it.” The man’s tones were firm and decided, Rilgoat wept in a satirical, unstrung way. “Consider he pleaded,“you will have the free use of my check- ok and my signature.” ain, dear fellow,” stepping eagerly forward, “I care nothing for “ How singularly unlike we are.” Vhe iron resolution vanished from Loaded’s face. “My comicbooks.com