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Judge, 1887-10-01 · page 5 of 16

Judge — October 1, 1887 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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Judge — October 1, 1887 — page 5: Judge, 1887-10-01

What you’re looking at

This page from Judge (a late 19th-century satirical weekly) contains several unrelated humor pieces typical of the era: **"Judge's Fable"** features Andrew Jackson's ghost visiting a modern political leader (likely a contemporary president), criticizing his obsession with minor civil service reforms while ignoring major national issues: coastal defense, navy building, and fisheries disputes. The satire mocks the president for focusing on bureaucratic minutiae instead of substantial policy. **"Old Chocolate's Target Practice"** presents dialect-heavy folk wisdom attributed to a Black character—a common (and deeply racist) humor format of the period, reflecting the magazine's casual bigotry. The remaining items are brief, light jokes: a woman misunderstanding a job requirement, a pigeon-shooting scene, and domestic humor about lost thimbles and libel suits. The Andrew Jackson piece appears most politically pointed, criticizing executive inaction on infrastructure and foreign policy during a period of budgetary surplus.

📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

JUDGE THIS is a dainty, trusting little letter Hidden securely in its square white fetter; Showing, methinks, as yet a dimpled pressure Made by a hand than violets far fresher. Dear little cover, ah, good luck ! a pity r you, had not roguish Kittie blossom lips so red and fragrant It were to t Sealed with h You're open—ah, what's this? Good bye.” petter, —The mitten! b . Tl light my pipe with this provoking letter ! OLD CHOCOLATE’S TARGET PRACTICE. De soun’es’ sleepah offen snores de loudes’. Yo’ mus’ fight sometimes toe puhsav de peace. Hit takes mighty little toe injuh a borrer’d mule. De jackass dat knows nuffin’ abo't a bit ull min’ de club. Wudder yo’ go toe law er shake dice, de result am jis de same. Yo" can’t ‘spec’ oddahs toe be mum w’en yo! own chin am waggin’. We er ez li’ble toe bump de head on suffin’ above ez toe stumble on suttin’ below. Hit takes an exput toe tell de difence ‘tween gol’ an’ brass w'en de shine am on. Nebbah play pokah wid « stranjah er a pack ob keerds dat yo" a’n't familyah wid. Hit a’n't de man w’at holds de hoe de han’sumes’ dat gits fust toe de eand ob de row. De man dat doan’ own no groun’ ull ‘vise yo" toe plant yo’ mellens in de fudderes’ fiel’, Heah am de clay an’ dar am de wheel, but yo’ mus’ fin’ a potter toe make a pitcher. Ef de hen cud tell how many aigs she laid, somebody ud be s'pishioned ob stealin’. Dar's nuffin’ laik sellin’ yo’ truck wen de maakit am right; but a shil'n less am bettal . b: Every man toe his own business. yun try toe ape de acrobat. But ef yo’ am ob anoddah ‘pin- 4. A, WALDRON. JUDGE'S FABL A man of destiny one night fell asleep and dreamed it troubled dream. Before him ap- peared a noble but gaunt figure crowned with a head of upright gray hair. “Do you know me ?” said the figure. rank partisan, an offensive partisan. “In life I was a partisan, a Yes, Iwas a spoilsman, My “1 Well, for want of name was Andrew Jackson.” “Ah!” gasped the man of destiny as he quaked on the bed. “Take your eyes out of your microscope,” said the figure, “where you have been anatomizing civil service insects and private pension molecules, and cast your eyes up to the signs in the sky. ‘The people want coast defences; they want a navy, they want the fisheries question settled. If you don’t take some action there may be a day when there will be neither surplus nor treasury to wran- gle about. Do you want your memory and your acts to sink into a state of innocuous desuetude ?” And he vanished. “Frances,” said the chief executive, with a cloudy brow, next morning at breakfast, ** we must dismiss the baker who furnished those mince pies, for pernicious activity. I have passed a miserable night.” do not SHE JUMPED AT CONCLUSIONS. “It is absolutely necessary that thi should be filled by a very fast’ writer,” Grind to Mrs. Malaprop, who was trying to get a situation fcr her son. ‘My boy is just the one to suit you then,” she replied. ‘*He must be a very fast writer, because his her told me only the other day that he wrote EDWARD WICK, a running hand.” gin £4, THE HOBOKEN PIGEON SHOOT, Scuyerrzxr—“"Now, Wilhelin, when dot snoozer pulls de cord, tickle me unter de ribs so T laugh unt maig de shod scagdder.” AN INFALLIBLE RULE. “T dropped my thimble can't find itanywhere. I “Tf you want to find best thing you the floor,” said Mrs. Brown, know what I shall do without so badly.” replied Mrs. Cobwigger, “the un do is to hunt for something else.” AN UNFORTUNATE EPITHET. “ What about this libel suit Dr. Oldfogy has brought against us?” said the backer of a paper to the editor. “Why, one of the reporters in alluding to his conspicuous gal- lantry at the reception the other evening referred to him as a ‘lady killer,’ aud the old fellow swears we intended it as an insinuation upon his professional skill.” ANSWERED. “What shall we do to be saved ?” asked a revivalist And a small boy in the rear seat shouted, ‘‘ Let’s trade teams with Detroit.”