Life, 1912-01-11 · page 10 of 40
Life — January 11, 1912 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains a poem by W. H. Oulton titled "Life's Problem," depicting a forty-year-old unmarried man seeking a wife. He consults three married friends about the financial implications: - **John**: Reports his gold mine sale covers expenses - **Tom**: Claims his ship sails tomorrow, having mortgaged his home - **Bob**: Admits he's spent his last cent on his wife's Paris gown The satire critiques **marriage as financially ruinous for men**, with each friend representing a different economic disaster caused by matrimony. The poem suggests that marriage inevitably leads to financial ruin regardless of initial wealth or circumstances—a common theme in early 20th-century satirical literature mocking both marriage and women's spending habits. The accompanying photograph labeled "TO THE VICTORS" remains unclear without additional context.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“Life’s Problem” RTY years old and unmarried, Lonely and weary of life, The plans of a lifetime miscarried, I determined to get me a wife. But first, being world-wise and wary, I thought that I'd find out the cost. Would a paltry three thousand keep Mary? Or should we be stranded and lost? I'd ask John—he'd married a beauty; And Tom—he was tied to a queen; And Bob—who had felt it his duty To wed a sweet chit of sixteen, John sighed as he answered my question: “Stocks down, business awful, but still The sale of my gold mine in Preston, Thank God, paid the milliner’s bill.” Tom's face was deep-lincd, worn by sorrow; His clothes, out of date and threadbare. ‘he Missus? She's sailing to-morrow.” He'd mortgaged the home for her fare, Bob, debonair, happy, light-hearted, Replied with an ominous frown :— “With my very last cent I’ve just parted, To pay for my wife's Paris gown Ah, me! Therc’s the rain on the shingle, And my rooms seem deserted and drear, Still, I'd rather be lonely and_single, Than starve on three thousand a year. W. W. Quinton. To Our Readers CCASIONALLY we deem it expedient to emphasize the fact that Lire actually gocs to press about ten d in advance of its appear- ance on the news-stands, and that before it goes to press the material which enters into it has to be set up, so that any communications received at this office and published in this paper do not, as a rule, appear earlier than three weeks after their receipt. This is due to the large editions which Lire is printing, and also to the fact that in mak- ing ready for the press, a much longer time is required where so many illustrations are used than would be necessary with type. Our friends, therefore, should bear in mind that our comments on current affairs are subject to this delay. We have never regarded this as being a handicap. Lire is not a newspaper, inasmuch as our principal field is to display our ignorance of current affairs. IRECTIONS 10 Miss Couvatma: Put the Outlook under your pillow and you will dream of the one you are going to marry. “TO THE VICTORS