Life, 1909-04-29 · page 9 of 28
Life — April 29, 1909 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
The page contains two distinct pieces: **Top cartoon ("Auto Suggestion Literature"):** A man outside an asylum reads a self-help sign declaring himself "a conqueror of fate's battles" while ignoring reality—an actual asylum building behind him. This satirizes the popular "auto-suggestion" self-help movement of the early 20th century, mocking people who use positive affirmations to deny obvious problems. The irony is visual: his mental pep talk cannot change his actual circumstances. **Bottom story ("Love Knows the Weight"):** A domestic drama where a bedridden Mrs. Winkle suffers while her husband prioritizes staying warm by the fire. The illustration shows him weighing himself on a scale. This appears to satirize male selfishness and indifference to wives' suffering during illness—a common social criticism of the era.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
AUTO SUGGESTION LITERATURE think I know However, if you But remem- Mrs. Winkle, “but I something about you. are bent on it, all right. ber!"" “Oh, I'll remember!” Toward evening the thermometer be- gan to drop. Outside the wind blew clear and sharp. Winkle and his wife sat down after dinner by the cosy fire, but it was evident that Winkle, even before their regular bedtime, was be- ginning to get uneasy, and as the hour approached, his joyousness increased. “Just wait!” he exclaimed. “ We'll EO” NS de LOVE KNOWS THE WEIGH AND THEN—— all be sleeping out there in a couple of weeks. I'm only the advance guard. When you sce what it does for me, then you'll save your own life.”” A few moments later, arrayed in a patent flannel robe that he had pur- chased for the occasion, he solemnly— and with as much dignity as his cover- ing permitted—kissed her good night The door closed behind him, All was silence. That thermometer, however, was still doing business at the same old stand. And the wind, how it blew! Tt was midnight. The door of Mrs. Winkle’s room softly opened. A dark form stole silently in. It stood by her bedside. “Wake up!” Mrs. Winkle, still drowsy, muttered, “Well, what is it “1 don't think,’ chattered Winkle. his teeth playing like castenets, “that I got that flap fixed just right. But I'll fix it to-morrow. Brr. Guess I'll come in with you.”” Mrs. Winkle began to awake to her peril “No, you won't!’ she cried. “I'm nice and warm and cosy, and I'm Oh! You go away and don’t kle began to dance up and down, as well as he could, considering the fact that he was nearly frozen. t me in, I say. I want to get Winkle rose up in bed. “Never! You go away. You've made your bed—you go and lie in it. Do you suppose I'm going to have you Never!" woman, I warm yourself at my expense? “You're wouldn't turn away like this. Hear the wind blow. “You go away!" Mrs. Winkle was in that somnolent state where the law of self-preserva- tion was the first consideration. “But, dearest! Sweetheart! I never was so cold in my life. I can feel Pneumonia coming on.” Mrs. Winkle only covered up her ears the more. The dim spectre of her shiv- ering husband made her all the worse. “I don’t care,’’ she muttered, “you just go away and don’t bother me. I wouldn't let you get in here for a million dollars.”* And shaking and shivering the flannel- robed spectre silently stole away. The next morning early Mrs. Winkle awoke with a start, a vague something on her mind and conscience. As she regained her senses repentance filled her soul. She sprang out of bed and ran through the house searching for her hus- band. She found him at last, stretched be- fore the grate fire, upon which he had evidently passed most of the night heap- ing wood—judging by the pile of ashes “ Please forgive me." she cried, “but heartless a dog on a night Brr!’” comicbooks.com