Judge, 1888 · page 54 of 72
Judge — 1888 — page 54: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains several short humorous pieces typical of late-19th-century American satire: **"A Cosmopolitan Woman"** mocks wealthy philanthropists who donate to foreign missionary causes while neglecting their own families. The woman lavishes supplies on exotic peoples worldwide, yet her husband—reduced to tying his clothes with string—receives nothing. **"Not Fond of Sad Colors"** jokes about nouveau-riche art patrons lacking taste; a rich purchaser complains a Millet landscape's dark sky isn't cheerful enough for his daughter's wedding, missing the painting's artistic merit. **"The Decorative Craze"** uses Irish dialect humor to satirize working-class pretension—an Irish-American club discusses buying "escutcheons" (heraldic shields) for decoration, with one member comically suggesting they buy one and propagate it like a plant to save money. Other brief pieces target: boarding-house food deprivation, fastidious travelers, Canadian colonial dependence on Britain, and frontier widow stereotypes. The cartoons use exaggeration and ethnic caricature (standard for the era) to mock vanity, class aspiration, and social absurdity.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
NATURAL GAS FROM JUDGE. A COSMOPOLITAN WOMAN. She went ‘round and asked subscriptions, For the heathen black E And the ‘Terra del Fu She did; For the tribes rou And the men of M And the poor sou So she dit She longed, she Jelly cake, and For the Anthropopha So she did, Her heart ached for the Australians And the Borriobou alians, And the poor, dear Amahagger, Yes it did. And she loved the black Numidian, And the ebon Abyssinian, NOT FOND OF SAD COLORS. A patron of fine arts, possessed of more money than taste, had ordered a landscape of Millet, The day it was brought home the purchaser exclaimed : “Good heavens! Monsicur Millet, couldn't you afford to make your sky a little more lively ?” “What for?” demanded Millet. “Because it is my daughter's wedding day.” KNEW WHAT IT WAS TO FAST. “ Wonderful, isn’t it, how people can go for days without food? I’ve just been read- ing about a man out west who hasn't touched food for two months.” “Nothing remarkable about that.” “You think so?” “Certainly Ido. I lived in a boarding- house in New York for two years myself. A FASTIDIOUS TRAVELER. Boggs (on board Pullman sleeper, com- ing to his friend’s berth at 11 a.m.)—" No up yet, Jagley! I hope you're not ill?” Jagley (despairingly)—“ I cawn't leave this berth, deah boy, till the end of the t My twavelin-cap blew off on the pwairie lawst night, and I should pewish with shame tobe seen on the twain bare-headed.” A TALE OF THE JERSEY UPLANDS, And the charcoal colured Guinean, Oh, she did! Ani she said’she'd cross the sexs. With a ship of bread and cheese For those st Sure, she did. How she loved the cold Norwegian And the poor half-melted Feejeean, And the dear Molucca Islander, She did; She sent pie and canned tomato To the tribes beyond the Equator, But her husband eat potato, Sohedid; * The poor helpless, homeless thing (My voice falters as I sing) Tieg his clothes up with a string, Yes he did. 8. W. Foss. THE SLY RABBIT. AMERICAN (to Canadian)—"* Why do you call Eng. land your mother country ?” CANADIAN—" Because she is our dam(e)nation.” THE DECORATIVE CRAZE. At the weekly meeting of the “ Hibernian Coterie” the question of beautifying the hall came up. ‘*Misther Prisident! ” said Mr. O'Toole, “Oi have an new motion anent ye. "Tis me opinion it wud bootify av we was to dicorate the soides av the hall wid about twanty escutcheons.” The motion was seconded. “Gintlemen! gintlemen!” shouted O'Grady, hopping to his feet, “Oi have ai -amindmint. Tis little money yez know wv have to spind, an’ Oi move a committee be appointed to buy wan escutcheon, an’ av it grows cut shlips off av it an’ plant thim.” HAD A ROPE ON HIS NECK, TOO. Visitor (to Montana widow)—“ And you say your husband met his death by falling off a scaffold?” Montana widow—" Yes; poor Jobe 1” Visttor—* How far did he fall?” Montana widow—“ Er—oh, the fall was about three feet, 1 think.” comicbooks.com