Life, 1917-01-25 · page 11 of 40
Life — January 25, 1917 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains a poem titled "A Plea from the Defendant" about a muzzled puppy defending itself against accusations of misbehavior. The poem humorously presents the dog's perspective, claiming it never bit anyone and that all its misdeeds—being soaked, netted, dragged—were minor ("grew a little bit"). The accompanying illustration shows the dog's transformation from 1860 to today, depicting it as increasingly refined and well-dressed. Below is a brief biographical entry on "Mr. Mabie" (Hamilton Mabie), described as a well-natured man of good character. The lower illustration appears unrelated, showing people in what seems to be a dramatic or theatrical scene. The satire likely uses the puppy's plea as social commentary on unjust accusations or overblown criticism, though the specific target remains unclear.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
~ . A Plea from the Defendant On a picture of a muzzled puppy, entitled “ All I did was growl a little bit.” ES, here I’m muzzled, fast and tight, From north to south, from west to east— I, who have hardly learned to bite, And never harmed a human beast. They said, because I ran and hid, I went to have a private fit. They called me mad, when all I did Was growl a little bit! And when they doused me soaking wet, They poked me out with pole and broom, And caught me in a horrid net, And dragged me to a dirty room. And when I panted as I slid, They said “Aha!” and kicked and hit And used the hose. But all I did Was growl a little bit. But Freddy, when they went away, Brought a big rag to sop me up, And lovely waffles on a tray And new milk in a china cup. He fed me through the net, dear kid, And s “Now, take some more of it I couldn’t thank him: all I did Was growl a little bit. It hurts me most to make my bed In such a dusty, dirty mess. For “cleanliness,” my father said, “Is next, my dears, to dogliness. Now, puppies, do as you are bid,” Heqsaid; “be gentledogs or quit.” Of course he knew that ail I did Was growl a little bit. “Don't get big heads like Cerberus, Or bay the Dog-star late at night; Be brave, but don’t be quarrelous; But when you're forced to fighting, fight.” I've sniffed at many’ a pantry-lid, And barked at cats that scream and spit; But this time, surely, all I did Was growl a little bit. RENEWING HER YOUTH There’s a fine place, my mother thinks, Where good dogs go when they are dead. But my wise father only blinks, And gnaws his bone, and shakes his head. But they agree I'll not be chid Up there, nor muzzled, kicked or hit, If it is sure that all I did Was growl a little bit. Robert Underwood Johnson. Mr. Mabie H‘MILTON MABIE reached his three-score and ten, and perhaps we ought not to complain of his leav- ing. But he is much more of a loss than most of us will be. A sweet- natured man; well-trained well-taught, well-seasoned; who went about doing good by diffusing himself and his be- nign spirit in many communities. The Optimist: CHEER UP, OLD MAN! I'LL BET WE WAKE UP IN OUR BEDS IN THE MORNING AND FIND THIS IS NOTHING BUT A DREAM comicbooks.com