Judge, 1893-08-19 · page 10 of 16
Judge — August 19, 1893 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three separate satirical pieces typical of Judge's social commentary: **Main Story**: A romantic narrative mocking upper-class couples' beach quarrels. The text portrays a couple engaged in petty arguing, with the woman using her parasol theatrically while complaining. The satire targets how couples perform reconciliations—making grand promises ("no more quarreling") they won't keep. The woman's confession to her friend reveals the satire's point: she *enjoys* quarreling with her boyfriend because it allows emotional drama and "making up." **"The Noble Pastime Interrupted"**: A class-based joke. An Irish working-class woman (depicted with ethnic caricature dialect: "Misther," "Oi") interrupts her husband's leisure activity at a coaching club, demanding he leave to fetch milk for the father's supper—mocking how working-class domestic obligations intrude on men's recreation. **"They Wouldn't Stand It"**: References an unstated anecdote Mr. Happyfor wants to share about his three-year-old. The punchline appears cut off, but the joke likely involves children's misbehavior that respectable society wouldn't tolerate. All three pieces mock social pretension and domestic friction.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
TO BE CONTINUED. g WHE waves lapping up little = round bits of the beach got her attention and she got his. They had spent the best part of a languor- ous day in quarreling. Now, when a pink-gray light spread over the sea, he lounged on the sand and she sat severely up- right. She was alternately poking vicious holes in the sand with the white- frilled affair she called her parasol and flipping it back and forward over her head. As the latter ac- tion had the effect of hiding her at regular intervals from her companion, his conversation in his anxiety to finish a sentence before she disappeared was be- coming of the snappy order and fast reducing itself to primitive monosyllables. Hers, on the contrary, had no relation to the vagaries of her parasol, but flowed and ebbed in one continuous complaint. She was reviewing the day and he, with utter, man- like ignorance of feminine enjoyment of such post- LARGE SIZE. “+I wanter git er pair ob shoes, boss.” “All right, uncle ; what kind?” ‘I reckon er pair like dat one out'n front "bout suit me.” mortems, urged her to let the whole affair drop. He had been a brute and she had been an angel and that was all there was about it. But equally, of course, that was not all there was about it and the pokes increased in num- bers and viciousness until there was a perforated yellow strip about them. He need’ not be so horrid and sarcastic. It was such bad form, anyway, to be constantly wrangling. One could overlook it in boys and girls, but a grown- up man and woman—disgusting ! He agreed with her and spent a subsequent bad quarter of an hour in explaining that he alone was the personified bad form. ‘The reconciling took some time. Then they made more resolutions, It should never occur again. He hated to think of the miserable day they had passed. So-did she—he could never imagine how badly she had felt. There would be no more quarreling. They would have such nice quiet, peaceful times together in the August days to come. “Just like this,” he ended, getting in behind the frills of her parasol. “Yes, won't it be lovely?” she said dreamily, letting the sand fall from her hand on his sleeve. In alittle while the sun blushed and dropped down behind the water's edge and they went back to the hotel. That night she confided to her dearest friend : tt NOBLE PASTIME INTERRUPTED. “Oh, I had the most beautiful time all day, squabbling with Walter. Don’t you Mrs. Burns—"" Now, Misther Delanchey Cain, yez can tool yure love a downright quarrel with a man? I can make him simply rage. And coachy club up t’ th’ dure till Oi git th’ milk fer yure fayther’s supper.” the making up is so delicious! I must try it again to-morrow.” eae MADGR RoMRETSON. THEY WOULDN'T STAND IT. Mr, Iarpyror —“ Say, fellows, I want to tell you an awful my little three-year-old boy got off this morning— ——Why, what's the matter with those crazy loons?” comicbooks.com