Judge, 1891 · page 17 of 69
Judge — 1891 — page 17: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three separate humorous anecdotes typical of late-19th-century Judge magazine's satirical style: **"Every Evidence of It"** mocks a pompous man (Mr. Rounder) whom Miss Guiness observes looking miserable at dinner, despite his reputation for drinking. The joke plays on "full of spirits"—he appears spiritually empty despite his drinking habits. **"The Evolution of the Razor"** satirizes cheap Bowery barbershops, illustrating progressively damaged razors, culminating in one literally shattered. The accompanying text describes an African American man's suit destroyed by lightning, with dialect humor typical of period stereotyping. **"Wasted Energy"** and the Minnesota anecdote are brief, darkly comic vignettes about domestic mishaps and a corpse unexpectedly reviving during a wake—playing on superstitions about body-snatching. The cartoons employ heavy racial caricature and dialect speech characteristic of Judge's era, reflecting attitudes modern readers would find offensive, while the humor relies on physical mishaps and social pretension.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
FUNNY THINGS FROM JUDGE. EVERY EVIDENCE OF IT. Soudly at her father through the dining-roem doory— pw Sad pa looks! ‘To look a Mr. Rounder, you would never suspect him to be full of spirits, would Mr. ROeNDER (critically) Well, no, not exactly full yet, but he will be very shortly. one suit ob cloze, en ’siderin’ d’ tone ob d’ club, an’ d’ fac’ dat dem close wuz solid silk, I says, 3 says I t' m'self, dem's d’ togs fer d’ Black Stars, 4 Y y, i y suah.” : F higher. Dey wanted jes’ twainty-one dollah fer Z s jes’ whad I'se comin’ to, Luff go dat whisk'r hair, Esmond Le Clair! Thanks. I put THE EVOLUTION OF THE RAZOR. Not as seen, but felt during a 5-cent Bowery shave. dat suit ’r close on, en started fer Hoboke, finkin’ dat ‘twuz bettah ¢’ hab one stylish man in d’ club den foh loafahs, when, whad yo’ s'pose ?" “Bunco ?” “Nah! Lightnin’ flash come en burnt dem cloze off’r me clean ez a bone “En didn’ hyurt yo’ ?” “Notta mighty.” “Mistah Grabes,” observed Mr. Eakins, as he winked a sullen wink at Mr. Le Clair, “hit m a trifle bumbasty fer t' say dat two Hoboke s ob color is mo’ foh-handed den Gawd’s lightnin’, but dey is, chile—dey is?” And the splash of the hard body into the soft mud of the dock carried out the truth of the assertion. The Black Star Tennis Association play now in blue overalls and checked jumpers, but they play an honest game. J. compueny. Out in Minnesota, while two men were setting up with a corpse, the late lamented raised in the coffin, looked around in a dazed sort of a way, and observed: “T feel very queer.” At this precise juncture the two men also felt “very queer"—much more so than the man in the coffin, If dead bodies are going to act in such a reprehensible and outrageous manner, it is going to be difficult to get people to sit up with them to scare off body snatchers. WASTED ENERGY. Mrs. WALuKICcK—"' Fo! de lan’s saik ! who done dat ?” 6 Fanaa j _ MR. WaLurick—"* I wuz ‘temptin’ t' carbe dat tuckey whad dem Twiggs folks sent in, “Meat me once again” is what the hungry dog said an’ I done swatted him too hard !" to the butcher, comicbooks.com