Judge, 1890-06-21 · page 6 of 16
Judge — June 21, 1890 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three distinct pieces of satirical content: **"Lines to a Cook"** is a humorous poem praising an Irish cook named Bridget O'Toole, likely a servant. The satire gently mocks both the cook's working-class status and the speaker's obsequious flattery—he praises her cooking while making pointed observations about her red hair and butter-less dishes, suggesting she skims ingredients for personal use. **"The Innocent Sufferer"** depicts a comic narrative (right side) set in Sudan, showing British colonial figures and native peoples. The captions suggest slapstick humor involving miscommunication and cultural misunderstanding during British imperial activities. **"Old Chocolate's Jocoserious Chat"** presents folk wisdom in exaggerated dialect spoken by an African American character ("Old Chocolate"), featuring homespun proverbs. This reflects period minstrelsy conventions, though the actual advice offered is genuinely sensible. The page reflects late-19th-century American humor: workplace satire, imperial adventure mockery, and racial caricature typical of Judge's editorial sensibility.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
JUDGE THE INNOCENT SUFFERER. LINES TO A COOK. A TALE OF THE SOUDAN. ] NEVER have seen you, fair Bridget O'Toole, But the waiter has told me your name ; I do not know whether you've e’er been to school, But you know how to cook just the same. The scallops you fry to an eatable brown, The chops they are done to a turn; The soups you concoct have acquired great renown— Oh, where all of these things did you learn? I hear you're a widow—too bad Mike is dead ; But his is the loss and not yours; For surely his spirit now misses your bread And your cake that my palate allures. I'm told that your hair is as red as a brick, But the butter it giveth no sign Of whether ‘tis red or blue, silky or thick— But its absence in food is divine. I think you're entitled to more than you get, For cooking such entrées untold ; ‘They always agree with my liver and set As light as the snow on the wold. Henceforth to give praise to your wonderful skill Fach day I shall make it a rule ; Your cooking T know I can eat to my fill, Heaven bless you, oh, Bridget O'Toole! Leon MEAD. Starved giraffes! What was that?” MORE USED TO THE BIG PIPES. Harraty —'‘Are yez hur-rted, Hughey ?” Deasy (tho has hired,an putfit)—" Kilt, Jimmy! Me gun blew aff at th’ man- hole av it."* * OLD CHOCOLATE'’S JOCOSERIOUS CHAT. A DULL axe am bettah en no wood. Good-bye aigs w’en de las’ pullet er in de pot. Hit doan’ hu’t yo’ fiah toe let anoddah git wahm, yo" wantoe be busy, follow eberybody’s advice, Eben de fox fools ‘roun’ de bahn-yahd once toe offen, A patch am a patch, wedder ob de same cloth er no. Yo' can't pass de toll-gate by tellin’ ‘bout yo" money at home. De man dat limps er happy w'en he meets a man wid no legs. Hit er mo’ lasting toe win an ahgument wid de tongue dan wid a club. De gahdner finds tings in de greens dat he didn’t know war ‘mong de seeds. De one dat picks de blossom ‘case hit's a posy mus'n't grum'le ef dar ain't fruit. DESIGN FOR A STRAW Nacha dun fix tings all right. Ef all de WAT FOR LADY flies war bees, w'at ud we do wid de honey? CYCLIS1 J A Wat Deo, Mrs, Gazzazzin —" Whatjer givin’ us?" comicbooks.com