Judge, 1890-05-10 · page 6 of 16
Judge — May 10, 1890 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page satirizes courtship and social pretense through several jokes. The top section shows a milk wagon being pulled by increasingly chaotic horses and figures, illustrating slapstick humor about loss of control. The "Fair Inference" joke mocks young men courting women: Mr. Cumso assumes the parlor visitor is a minister because he's holding a "protracted meeting" (religious terminology) with Mabel—satirizing how long-winded suitors lingered during calls. The school joke plays on "trigger-nometry," pun-based humor about teaching marksmanship. "Jes' So!" celebrates rural simplicity over urban sophistication—Uncle Bill rejects city "swarries" and "brown-stun frunts" (brownstone fronts) in favor of farm life, nature sounds, and family. This reflects period tension between rural and urban values, celebrating agrarian simplicity as morally superior to fashionable city pretense. The poems celebrate pastoral spring imagery and homespun wisdom, typical of Judge magazine's mix of humor, sentiment, and social observation for middle-class readers nostalgic for rural life.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
SATISFACTORY. | HAVE not mysetf a canary, And the fact 1 do not deplore, For it’s just as pleasant to listen To the bird in the room next door, T have all the joy of the music My critical ear to engage, With the glorious satisfaction ‘That I don't have to clean his cage. THE LOVE OF MOTHER EARTH. The moon —"You seem to think a good deal more of Sol than you do of me.” The earth —"* Well, you should recollect that Sol is my oldest sun.” fat her time hes cum to help all things rejoice, lifts up her good ole voice, An’ inn‘cent-like the peaceful lambs begins to skip an’ romp, gles out his throat ‘way back ther in the swamp, cow in the clover. While the bull-frog FORE - FLITTINGS. A SMELL of sap in the air. A. growing perpendicularity of suner A fleet of sea-gulls westward ing. The ca tant crow, A stirring of sluggish blood. The increasing business of bugs and things. The tinkling melody of water- witches from fields and marshes. Old age creeping forth to absorb ixir of life. Audac youth taking un wonted license and waxing in au- dacity. ‘The incipient swelling of buds. A. growing uprightness of the ing of an occasional dis- phy Robins and bluebirds. Spring! Hail ! KATHRIN EaRyRAN, CUT ON BEHIND; OR, THE SWIRL OF THE LASH. A FAIR INFERENCE. Old Mr. Cumso (as the clock strikes twelve) —"'Is that young man in the parlor with Mabel a minister?” Ars. Cunso—What- makes you ask that?” Old Mr. Cumso—"1 inferred so from the fact that he is holding a protracted meeting.” THE PLACE. +4 AND this is where you teach the young idea how to shoot?” remarked the visitor to the pretty school-ma’am, “Yes, sir,” she replied; “we teach trigger-nometry here.” JES’ SO! YOU kin chirp about yer cities an’ yer miles o! brown-stun frunts, An’ yer swarries, balls an’ ‘cepshuns, an’ yer other ure-hunts ; c light an’ hoss-cars an’ steam-biilers lin’ s'rill ; But them's the things wot never suits yer homely Uncle Bill! Yer brown-stun frunts looks pert enuff an’ solid- like an’ clean, But ain't nothin’ to a farm-house nes'lin’ white amongst the green ! Ant yer boasted ole serciety's a pack o' lies, b'gosh ! Worser'n patent med'cine cire'lars er Doc Wiggins’s weather-bosh ! ‘The time / allus feel the mileenyum's come to pass Is after supper's over an’ I’m settin’ on the grass Adlis'nin’ to the cherrup o' the birds among the trees A-twitterin’ sweeter music ‘an Miss Patty to the breeze, Wot comes sobbin’ through the branches fer to kiss the dyi An’ goes flirtin’ with the swallers ‘fore the kiss is half begun, While the sun keeps peggin’ right along a-layin’ on his paint, "Mid the whis'le o' the chic’dee an’ the nighthawk’s s‘rill complaint. An’ so I set here, happy, ‘ith the children at my knees A.askin’ lots 0° fool-queshuns about the buzzin’-bees, An’ when the wind hes died aw: I stretch my legs along the grass an’ say out with a will, an’ ev'rything is still “Sum folks hankers fer the city, but ¢4is suits yer Uncle Bill!" TALES OF A TRAVELER. SiMtAN Ewine (as the hearer strolls up)—" Say, cully, you ain't no use ‘round here. Dis is hase-ball, #o¢ cricket.” comicbooks.com