Life, 1913-09-25 · page 31 of 43
Life — September 25, 1913 — page 31: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from *Life* magazine combines literary satire with advertising. **"The Geologist's Lament"** is a humorous poem mocking overly romantic Victorian poetry by substituting geological jargon for conventional love metaphors. A geologist professes love using terms like "glacial till," "pyrite," "silicon," and "potash"—transforming sentiment into pseudo-scientific absurdity. The punchline arrives when his beloved dismissively calls him "cracked" (a geological pun), rejecting this ridiculous courtship. The **Colt Automatic advertisement** emphasizes the gun requires no safety thought—just grab and shoot instantly. It's marketing through reassurance of simplicity and readiness. **"The Lady Who Smoked Cigars"** advertises a short story by Rupert Hughes, promising entertaining reading. The **"Charity Wanted"** advertisement sarcastically critiques ineffectual charitable organizations that spend resources on administration rather than helping the poor, contrasting genuine aid with performative "Charity Balls." Together, the page satirizes pretension (romantic poetry, gun anxiety) while advertising entertainment and social commentary.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
The Geologist’s Lament A Soft Conglomerate MET my love by an ancient lake, Where the glacial till was deep.— Where days of old saw lizards bold, And dinosauri, leap! Her hair was touched with the pyrite’s gleam: | Like crystal quartz her eyes :— / The ruby’s tint on her rounded lips, f Like purling springs her sighs! “Ah, Sweet!” I breathed, “as the T on cons flew his ‘ And fossils formed in clay, And bits of filt’ring limonite ; Entombed them where they lay,— E “Through all the years of the shift- ing meres, While soft the ox-bows wound, * Did Potash cleave to Silicon In the molten magma’s bound! “As Potash cleaves to Silicon, So cleaves my soul to thee! May mortal never break our bond, cosere Nor part our love the sea!” The Colt Automatic Fires first shot first You don’t have to bother your head about ‘‘safety’’ devices —you don’t have to even think—without one second’s| fo arn, She pensive moved o'er Triassic stone Where three-toed beasts once tracked: sees . : “It’s not your fault,” she harshly | Resitadon you simply grab your COLT and shoot—quickl; y, said, ‘Ye The COLT is the finest steel watchdog—it rests safely as] far as you are concerned, but keeps its weather eye op day and night, instantly ready for the other fellow. Don’t be stalled off the COLT if you want the best gun—it costs you no more. Write for catalog 6. COLT’S PATENT FIRE ARMS MFG. CO., Hartford, Co: “But surely you are cracked!” Prentice Abbot. The Lady Who Smoked Cigars ma = | It IREARMS ‘Adopted United States Government You will not be disappointed in her after reading this snappy little story by Rupert Hughes. A delightful hour’s reading. Fifty cents per copy Charity Wanted W ANTED—Charity. Large quantities needed at once, Must be real charity. Must meet all the tests of the most approved standards of efficiency. Must be of a nature that offers some hope of its catching up some time with poverty, disease and misfortune. Old-fashioned charity, that never does better than bring up a very poor rear, need not apply, Must not be like Charity Balls that heat so many times around the bush that the whole business borders on the farcical. Must not be like our Charity Organizations which spend so much money in administration and in postage on begging letters, the only effect of which is to advertise its officers, that practically nothing is left for the poor devils that need help, Must be a charity which is prophylactic as well as therapeutic. Apply at once to Slums, New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Boston and elsewhere. Life Publishing Company 17 West 31st Street New York comicbooks.com