Judge, 1893-01-28 · page 10 of 16
Judge — January 28, 1893 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three distinct satirical pieces: **"Overheard"** mocks Irish immigrant dialect and working-class culture. Two Irish women discuss a prank: Mrs. Doody, carrying ale for her husband, encounters a stranger she mistakes for Pat Moorphy and offers him a drink from her "growler" (beer can). The joke relies on ethnic stereotyping through exaggerated Irish brogue. **"The Language of Flowers"** presents small vignettes with floral names (Night-blooming cereus, Virginia creeper, Simial, Morning-glory) as visual puns about human behavior—likely social commentary on courtship or domestic life coded through flower symbolism. **"Fraud on the Kestigouche"** satirizes wealthy sportsmen. A hunter claims he shot a caribou "all myself," but his guide recognizes the obvious lie and demands payment for actually catching it—mocking the pretensions of rich tourists who hire guides but take false credit for kills. All three target class, ethnicity, or social pretension through humor typical of *Judge*'s satirical approach.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
OVERHEARD. j|UD-MORNIN’, Mrs. Moorphy! An’ wuz yure hoosband a-tellin’ yez av the great jawk he did be playin’ on me lasht noight? Oh, Pat Moorphy do be a comical felly, so he do !* “ Divil a wurrud did he say to me about anny jawk, Mrs. Doody; an’, ef yez ‘ll parrdon me inquishitorialness, moight Oi ashk yez te tell me yursilf?” “So Oi will, Mrs. Moorphy, but it’s puhzzled Oi am thot he niver mintioned it. Anny way, it wuz loike this: As Oi wuz coomin’ up the strate, about foive o'clock, frum Micky Mullin’s saloon wid a can o' mihxed ale fur me ould mon's supper, who shud Oi mate coomin’ down furninst me but Pat Moorphy! ‘Good-avenin’, Mishter Moorphy!" sez Oi; ‘shure, nobody be’s a look- in’, wud yez relish a shmall sip frum me growler—jist fur lock? There ‘Il be plinty left fur me an’ the ould mon." Divil a wurrud sez he in reploy, an’ thin, fur the foorst toime, I see the jawk he had played on me, fur, wud yez belave it! it wuzn't Pat Moorphy at all, but some sthrange mon thot Oi niver hod laid me two oyes onto in me loife. Oh, Oi niver wuz fooled so complately before!” CARL MARRis THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS. Morning. glory. Hi Hall VA til 1 COMPARATIVE NUISANCES. Mrs. Tremiow—" Dicl from Constantinople that he's sent us a real old Damas- cus blade for a Christmas reminder. GraxpMa TxemLow—"" I hope he'll behave better than that young Baltimore one he brought from Vale last summer, 1 didn't get a wink of sleep for a week while he was here.” FRAUD ON THE KESTIGOUCHE. x What do you call it? I shot it all myselt ovah in those woods." MeScoccin (the guide) —"* Why, pard, that’s a caribou! I didn’t allow you'd git one so.quick | bur T'l bother yer fer that twenty-five dollars yer promised me fer th’ first one ketched.” comicbooks.com I 7 c