Life, 1915-12-02 · page 44 of 100
Life — December 2, 1915 — page 44: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is not a cartoon but a sentimental Christmas greeting essay by Kate Masterson, the prominent feature of this *Life* magazine page (number 1072). The piece is a heartfelt, spiritually-inflected message to readers distant from the author, emphasizing universal Christmas themes: family togetherness, remembrance of the deceased ("friends we loved who left us here"), charity, and spiritual renewal. The essay employs romantic, Victorian-influenced language—references to "tropic poinsettia meadows," "mountain evergreens," and mystical imagery of stars and dawn. The decorative border features period-appropriate Christmas iconography (wreaths, evergreens, carolers) rather than satirical content. This appears to be sincere holiday content, not satire. For modern readers: this represents *Life's* aspirational, mass-audience voice circa the early-to-mid twentieth century—sentiment-driven, spiritually optimistic, designed to unite readers across geographical and economic distance through shared Christmas ideals.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Christmas Life A Christmas Thought APPY or sad—gay or grim—when you read this, know that I— H your friend, apart—yet near, salute you! Joy to your house— plenty to your purse—love to your hearth! Health to you and to yours! The pine branches that fill your halls with fragrance, the smoke from your Christmas logs bring me breaths of welcome gusts of holiday cheer. Or maybe, alone in your attic, you are looking out across snowfields in the sky, thinking of friends who once were at your side. Know then, that I am thinking of you. From the ends of the earth I greet you. From tropic poinsettia meadows lit with scarlet stars, I send you Christ- mas thoughts. From the throbbing, smiling, sorrowing hearts of great cities I reach out to you. From mountain evergreens, gemmed with mistletoe, my prayer for you whispers to the stars. Rejoice! Put by your sombre dreams of what is gone into the gray past. This is the day of days—when the Child's hand touched the world and kind- ness and love bloomed in the winter pastures. Weep not for those friends we loved who left us here to grieve for them, They walk to-day, hand in hand, through fields of eternal spring. Songs from the stars time their footsteps by the deep waters of their abundance. Their eyes smile when they think of us as much-loved com- rades who go on with the tasks their tired hands put by for the artistry of splendid studios. They have learned the song of victory. They ride their splendid steeds across the suns to chant to you. To you, ponder- ing over some tragic comedy—some strange, sad adventure that has broken the harmony of your existence—they sing and bid you look up to the skies. They wait for you beside the gates of Dawn with hymns of cheer and royal courage—triumphant over death. They have kept the Faith— they have sunk in no whirlpool of dishonor—no shifting sand of falsehood —no easy mire of stupid safety. From hills that kiss the clouds they greet the Christmas unafraid. Rejoice with them! You have trod the roads that rim the rivers of life—you have been know—you know ! id's hand touches this old world once more. The light breaks on land and sea. The Christmas dawn is here! Kate Masterson, a tbs is my a q + Me comicbooks.com