Judge, 1891-02-21 · page 10 of 16
Judge — February 21, 1891 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains several short humorous pieces satirizing American social pretensions and gender dynamics of the late 19th/early 20th century. **"An Old-Fashioned Maid"** celebrates a domestic servant who excels at practical household tasks (cooking, cleaning, sewing) but lacks "culture"—knowledge of classical literature, philosophy, and modern refinement. The satire targets *both* the snobby elite who value such "culture" and the working-class woman's contentment with practical skills. The narrator ultimately marries her, suggesting practical virtue trumps pretension. **"The Dying Boston Girl"** mocks Boston's educated upper class through a dying girl's overwrought, pedantic speech ("maternal progenitor," "lachrymal manifestations"). Her excessive vocabulary and references to high culture (Wagner, Egyptian hieroglyphics) parody the region's intellectual pretension, suggesting such education produces absurdity rather than wisdom. The shorter pieces ("The Same Thing," "A Miff and a Muff") are mild romantic/social humor with wordplay. Overall theme: Judge satirizes class-based "culture" and intellectual pretension while poking fun at both the affected educated elite and those who aspire to their status.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
JUDGE AN OLD-FASHIONED MAID. HE can peel and boil potatoes, make a salad of tomatoes, but she doesn’t know a Latin noun from Greek ; And so well she cooks a chicken that your appetite ‘twould quicken, but she cannot tell what's modern from antique ; She knows how to set a table and make order out of babel, but she doesn’t know Euripides from Kant ; Once at making pies I caught her—Jove! an expert must have taught her—but she doesn’t know true eloquence from rant ; She has quite a firm conviction one ought only to read fiction, and she doesn’t care for science, not a bit ; ‘And the way she makes her bonnets, sure is worth a thousand sonnets, but she doesn’t yearn for “culture,” not a whit ; She can make her wraps and dresses till a fellow fast confesses that there's not another maiden half as sweet ; She's immersed in home completely, where she keeps all things so neatly, but from Brown- ing not a line can she repeat. Well, in fact, she’s just a woman, gentle, lovable and human, and her faults she is quite willing to ad “Twere foolish to have tarried, so we went off and were married, and I tell you T am mig! ATHAN M. LEVY, “We are ruined by Chinese cheap labor !" THE SAME THING. ‘eTHAT lets me out,” exclaimed Miss Bleecker. “Yes,” assented Miss Beacon-Street of Boston, “that permits your exit.” THE FAMILY SUITED. Arthur —"Cadley comes from a very fine family.” They must have been pleased when he got A MIFF AND A MUFF. SS GIVE me your hand,” one evening cold I said to Maud, as by my side She lightly tripped, ‘The words seemed bold And scared me somewhat ; so I tried ‘Their sense to mend : “1 mean to hold And keep it warm,” I faintly said. “No, thanks ;" she tossed her pretty head And, laughing, added (it was rough!), > “You ought to keep it warm enough Beyond a doubt, you're such a muff.” Paras $ AN UNEXPECTED COMPLIMENT. NEEDED A™ AIRING. City editor (to reporter) —" Perkins, I don’t think you'll OLp Jounst When I wor a young fellow like yo', Sam, I worn't so fond ob venti- ever make an editorial writer.” latin’ my opinions as yo’ are, sah!" i Pn age te ‘3 Youxo VaLizaey—"fluh! Tdoa't woadah you ventilates ‘em now. .Dhey am musty Depenters Coane pest sestoe etenennrageaent enough, suah THE DYING BOSTON GIRL. #6 MATERNAL progenitor !" gasped the dying Boston girl, as she clutched the air with one hand and a small book with the other, “the attendant disciple of Aisculapius has finally bestowed upon me the information that I am rapidly becoming extinct, and there is a hundred weight of manifold substantialities with which I am desirous of acquainting you ere my finis. Cease your lachrymal manifestations, affectionate maternal progenitor; they debilitate me to a marked extent. If you discover it to be convenient and necessary that you should indulze in necessarily moist and involuntary wailings, kindly utilize yon neighboring ‘kerchief, Behold this paltry volume! (Check your agitation—it is not my daily record, which has been consumed ere this by illuminated anthracite.) It is the solution to my autographic tome, and will materially aid you in deciphering the nomenclature thereof, the which has hitherto been mistaken for Egyp- tianic hieroglyphicisms. Ta-ta, Farewell, mater lachrymosa! Charon waits forme. We are going to navigate the Styx. Do not yearn for me, but allow your imag’ faculties to picture me as being superabundantly felicitous. Ruminate! I am nearing a location where there will be no Teutonic opera—kein Wagner — keine Gotterdammerung —leine Gitter—dim —d.im (Please omit cauliflowers.) NEKO O'FLYNN, CONVERTED. TARTAN chased by a bull 3 then thus, enraged, to him did say: ‘Is this your gratitude, you blasted fool ? From this on I'll eat beef three times a day!” A LONG WAIT. NO HASTE ABOUT IT. Dashaway—"An amateur performance I attended the other evening was delayed an hour Mas, CANKER—"'It's the same old story with us, because one of the leading actors was ill. ‘They got a fellow from the audience to take his place.""_* Marry in haste and repent at leisure.’ verton—" don't sce why getting a fellow fro aud sai Miss IheicitrLy—" Why, my dear, if T remeffiber Cleverton—"\ don't see why getting a fellow from the audience delayed them an hour.” sage werhling costuge rightie, must have taker her Dashaway—" They bad to wait for one to come ii half a day to dress !" comicbooks.com