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Life, 1906-12-06 · page 23 of 64

Life — December 6, 1906 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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Life — December 6, 1906 — page 23: Life, 1906-12-06

What you’re looking at

This page contains three distinct pieces of satirical content: **"The Fair Dancer"** is a romantic poem by Nathan Haskell Dote about a male observer admiring a ballerina's performance. The accompanying illustration shows Santa Claus dancing with children—a whimsical visual that contrasts with the poem's earnest tone. **"Hope"** is a philosophical essay satirizing the American tendency toward unbounded optimism. It mocks how Hope enables unrealistic projects (the Brooklyn Bridge, Simplon Tunnel) and creates "castles in the air," while warning that excessive Hope leads to disappointment. The subtle criticism targets American business confidence and speculation. **"Tainted Toys"** cartoon criticizes monopolies controlling toy manufacturing, with the caption suggesting gifts come from corporate monopolies rather than genuine sources. **"Redskin Philosophy"** offers stereotypical "Native American wisdom" statements—a common early-20th-century satirical device. References to "Paleface" and stereotypical imagery reflect period attitudes. The page satirizes American optimism, corporate consolidation, and includes period racial stereotypes typical of 1910s-era humor.

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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

edit LIFE ff ate The Fair Dancer H! THOU dainty Ballerina! Never have I seen a Fairy With a grace so light and airy! In a circle lightly dancing, With thy dark eyes lightly glancing— Ballerina! Ballerina! Now advancing, now retreating, While her partner greeting lingers, Beckoning with her taper fifgers; Dancing mid the Dance’s daughters Like a sunbeam on bright waters— Ballerina! Ballerina! As she whirls and bends and beckons, Naught of me she reckons nightly As I sit and watch her lightly, Glancing in her magic mazes— Yet ‘tis I that sing her praises, Ballerina! Ballerina! Nathan Haskell Dote. Hope HE first debt was founded on hope. The man who borrowed hoped he could pay it back, and the man who lent it wouldn’t have done so if he had not hoped the same. It is said that Hope springs eternal. But this is not always necessary for Hope to do. In many cases we do not give Hope a chance to spring, but grab it prematurely and drag it out. There is no workman so skilled as Hope. Hope makes the constructor of the Brooklyn Bridge and the Simplon Tunnel hide their diminished heads in shame. It builds fortunes in a minute and does castles in the air while you wait. It has even made a first-class cook. It has been a constant complaint among us for generations that Hope’s work is not lasting—that it falls to pieces when completed. As if this mattered! For so long as Hope has the power to build new structures over again to replace the old, who cares? Then again there is a con- stant variety about Hope’s work that appeals to us. It constitutes a personally conducted tour to every desirable spot on earth. And who is there that has made a better Heaven? Hope is a household necessity. It provides the certainties of the future for the uncertainties of the past. Hope isan inimitable caterer. It pre- pares forusa continuous feast in the pleas- ant gardenof to-morrow. Only those who revel at its board are thrown out. TAINTED TOYS “YOUR GIFTS COME TROM A MONOPOLY"? For even in the dishes it prepares for us, Hope insists upon temperance. A surfeit of hope often times makes hope- less wrecks. We should take as much Hope as possible every day without decreasing our vitality. Asa tonic taker in moderate doses, it is unequaled. Therefore, do not enter any place where you must leave Hope behind. When you come out, Hope may be gone. TOM: “\WVHAT does the Republican party stand for?” “Everything,” Redskin Philosophy I WOULD know a great deal more if I could forget a lot I should never have learned. The Frog isa great Warrior to the Fly. A jug of Firewater will hold a barrel of Tomahawks. Paleface chooses his Chiefs from those with the dirtiest hands. Angry-) Heap of little well. One arrow is worth a thousand words. Even the Eagle’s eye has never seen to-morrow’s sun. in stampedes his own stock. isdom in knowing even a