Life, 1922-12-07 · page 28 of 80
Life — December 7, 1922 — page 28: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two separate pieces from *Life* magazine satirizing Christmas themes: **"Christmas Eve in Dingley Dell"** (left) is a humorous sketch featuring characters from Charles Dickens's *Pickwick Papers*. The joke centers on Prohibition—Wardle has become a teetotaler, serving only lemonade. Characters like Sam Weller and Pickwick navigate this alcohol-free Christmas, with the satire culminating when a child outside sings a modern, syncopated version of "Mistletoe Bough" in a "Chicago accent." The punchline has Pickwick exclaiming "Thank goodness, Charles Dickens is dead!"—suggesting Dickens would be appalled at modernized, Americanized versions of his Christmas story during Prohibition. **"A Christmas Warning"** (right) offers practical advice about testing toys before giving them as gifts, warning against disappointing children with malfunctioning or unbuildable items. The poem emphasizes adult responsibility and avoiding shame before children. The illustration shows poor families outside a home, captioned "Look at yo' Christmas dinner!!!"—likely contrasting the satirical Christmas concerns above with actual poverty.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LIFE Christmas Eve in Dingley Dell LAS! the genial Wardle has become a Prohibi- tionist. The only liquor in the house is home-made lemonade. Jingle produces a médical certificate—‘Blown up—mine—dislocated spine—ditto heart—doctor insists brandy.” Sam Weller is dispatched to the Blue Boar for medical supply. He approaches Pickwick, and whispers, “Can get you something in a pig’s whistle, as the cannibal’s wife remarked after she had cut the windpipe of the tax collector. Wot shall it be—rum, gin, fruity port, or bottled stout?” Pickwick groans. “Wardle would never forgive me,” he says. Then, turning to Snodgrass, Tupman and Winkle, “Gentlemen, this must be a dry Christmas. I regret to say that our honored host is, also, a vegetarian.” Just at this awful moment a chromatic disturbance is heard from outside. A village child with a Chicago accent is yelling, “I want that mistletoe—I want that mistletoe—I want that mistletoe—I want that GOOD OLD MISTLETOE BOUGH.” “Great heavens!” asks Pickwick of Wardle, who enters from the hall, gloomily chewing gum, “what is the matter?” “Why, this,” explains the reformed owner of Dingley Dell, “is syncopated carol singing. It seems good to me.” “Thank goodness, Charles Dickens is dead!” breathes poor Pickwick, as he swoons on the cold, cold floor. La T. H. RB TRGST, A Christmas Warning HEN to a child you wish to give a toy And eventually you've found the proper thing, Twill add a lot to everybody's joy lf you take time to test your offering. So blow it, squeeze it, see if it will wink Or wind it up—whichever it may be; You must be sure, you must not merely think + ‘Twill work for you before the presentee. Should it consist of things which must be built, Make sure that you can build them—every one; That you won't feel a horrid sense of guilt If later you are asked how they are done. No greater disappointment is on earth Than toys which do not function when they should; And many a hope’s been blighted at its birth And many a giver’s been misunderstood. If you can’t fly the airship, or explain The proper way to build the pyramid, You'll be a sight that always causes pain: A great big Grown-up shamed before a kid. “Look at yo’ Christmas dinner!!! comicbooks.com