Judge, 1892-05-21 · page 5 of 16
Judge — May 21, 1892 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three satirical pieces reflecting early 20th-century American life: **"The Old Mare's Gait"** (main poem): A sentimental rural narrative about an aging horse and her owner, both past their prime but content with a slow, steady pace. The poem celebrates accepting age and decline gracefully—resonant with themes of mortality and dignity that appealed to Judge's readers. **"A Mundane Habit"**: A New York commuter joke. The spirit wants to live in New Jersey (then a rural area) but commute daily to heaven—satirizing the then-common practice of wealthy New Yorkers living in Jersey to avoid city taxes while working in Manhattan. The humor targets both the absurdity of tax avoidance and the New York mindset. **"A Great Love"** and **"Magic Made Easy"**: Brief gag cartoons about romantic restraint and a magician's trick backfiring, typical of Judge's short-form humor. **"Too Long Buried"**: A Hoboken reference joke—apparently Hoboken had an unflattering reputation as dreary or lifeless, making the pun about being "buried" work as social commentary. The page reflects Judge's mix of rural nostalgia, urban social satire, and vaudeville-style gags.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
GUM FOLKS is quite perticaler about the way they £0, A-gallopin’, a-trottin’, or a-hitchin’ sorter slow ; While sum has noshuns ‘bout the style o' dockin’ o' the tail, An’ others like to git thar this or next week wi'out fail, An’ others like to hurry, fur they've never larned to wait. I'm a chap who stan's accordin’ to the ole mar's gait. She sorter ambles easy-like adown the village lane, * A-shakin’ o' hur quarters wi’ no tenshun on the rein ; Hur pedergree it reaches back to Lady Thorn, a queen Who raked the scollups off the cake a-trottin’ down the green ; Hur blood was red when she was young, but now it's gittin’ gray ‘Wi' years that come an’ years that go an’ years that slip away, Fur what she’s be'n an’ what she’s done when she was ‘counted great, She's jist a right to jog along accordin’ to hur gait. She used to yank the purses at the county fairs when she Was limber in bur moshuns, when hur j'ints they was free. " a-nibblin’ o' the weeds along in’ wobbley, like her master growin’ gray ; A-sorter easy-goin’, an’ no matter if it's late, It's all the same to both o' us—it is the crit- ter's gait. We've got beyond the hurryin’ an’ scamperin’ to git Down to the wire fust o' all; for easy is the bit ‘That rattles round among the stubs o' one that's be'n a colt, Who's got a creakin’ in hur bones, though once she used to jolt A takin’ stride along the way—twas ‘fore we larned to wait ; But now we both are satesfied wi’ jist a slow- in’ gait. A MUNDANE HABIT. St. Peter— You'll find your mansion fone block down to the right.” Spirit—"Can't you fix it so I can live a little way out of heaven and come in every day? On earth Iwas a New York man who lived in New Jersey.” A GREAT LOVE. Cect.—"* No, Weggy; you must not tempt me—weally you must not. I pwomised her I would smoke but three cigawettes a day.” Recinatp—"' Oh, Cecil, deah boy! how you must love her MAGIC MADE EASY, She used to fool the smarties wi' the sleepy look she wore, But she trotted to the finish an’ she always led the score. O* course that was afore she lamed like me to rest and wait, An’ long afore she settled to this easy-goin’ gait. ‘She's twenty-one this summer, an’ she’s good fur thirty-six. She nibbles in the clover, an’ hur feed I grind an’ mix Jist like you would a pusson's who is tooth- less, old and gray— Fur, to tell you fact, hur grinders, like my ‘own, have passed away. Thar, take hur as she’s standin’, I love hur though she's late, Fur we're growin’ ole together an’ I fashion to hur gait. WS. ELLER, TOO LONG BURIED. Bagley—" You want your body cre~ mated? What ever put that idea into your head ?” Bailey—"1 live in Hoboken and 1 have been buried long enough.” FRANCELLO ANGELLO (magician) —" Presto, change! You see, I take a Mr. Hayseen (ten minutes later)—"' Say, young feller, hurry up an’ give watch from this gentleman's mouth, “Thanks.” me somethin’ to make me sick. I'm full o' gold watches an’ I want tew get Mr, Hay! a at em,” comicbooks.com