Judge, 1894-02-24 · page 6 of 16
Judge — February 24, 1894 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains multiple short humorous pieces typical of early 20th-century satirical magazines: **"A Great Curiosity"**: A con artist tries to sell a supposedly George Washington letter written on a typewriter—an anachronism that actually increases its value as a curiosity, as the mark notes typewriters didn't exist in Washington's era. **"An Afro-American Mesalliance"**: A dialogue in exaggerated dialect between two Black women debating whether one's daughter should marry a man who was imprisoned. The satire targets contemporary racial attitudes through caricature. **"Remedies for a Cold"**: A wife suggests staying home sick, then immediately assigns household chores. When her husband agrees to leave for the city instead, she's thwarted. **"A February Trip to Florida"**: Comic strip showing increasingly chaotic train compartments across different cities, suggesting travel chaos. **"Something Wrong in the Count"**: St. Peter tells a newly arrived soul he's the 7,963rd person claiming to be "one of the four hundred" (a reference to New York's exclusive high society), mocking social pretension. The page emphasizes class anxiety, racial stereotypes, marital dynamics, and social climbing—recurring Judge themes.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
A GREAT CURI- OSITY. +4] VE gota great curiosity I'd like to sell you, sir,” said a man to Kilduff. © What is i “A letter written by George Washington, and I'll take ten dollars for it.” et me see “Heie it is,” said the man, producing a document. “Why, you fraud,” re- plied Kilduff, * this letter was written on a typewriter, and typewriters weren't invented when George Washington lived.” “Weren't they? That makes the letter a bigger curiosity than [thought it was. I'm glad you told me, I wouldn't sell REMEDIES FORUACOLD. it now for less than fifty dollars. Wire—"' Hadn't you better stay home to-day, dear? You have such a cold.” And the would-be vender folded his precious document and HUshAND (ieee well af eae ideah eT dont ews T gues stowed it away in his inside pocket. Wire—" You could clear the snow off the back stoop, make a path to the chicken- house, and go to the store and get"— Hustaxp—" I guess I will go to the city.” AN AFRO-AMERICAN MESALLIANCE. Mrs, Pompey Johnson—" Mrs. Jackson, | s'pose hit’s entire- IMPLIED DOUBT. ly ‘greeable t yo" all fur mah Stonewall marry yo'ah Lily Sue. [F PARENTS remark continually on bible-reading and perfunctory sabbath- sence they keeps follerin’ ob each udder?” observance as a panacea for all imm-rality they must expect similar sentiments er Lou- ‘t pick up Mrs. Cesar Jackson—* Whad yo anna Johnson? “Dat ar kinky-head niggah whad cz a chicken ‘thout goin’ ¢ jail marry mah Lily Sue whad got ‘ligion when she war ‘leben an’ hab ha’r as straight as enny white woman!” * in their children’s minds, four months and one day came to his mother and sai A FEBRUARY TRIP TO FLORIDA, Little Jack Kingston had been to Sunday-school for over Mamma, haven't I been a real good boy since I've been going to Sunday-school ?” “Yes, dear,” replied his mother. THEIR SIZE. Foster—* Have you seen those new cigars Barlow is smoking? They measure about four to the yard.” Trotter — Yes; and about eight to the graveyard. I've smok- ed one.” A THEORY THROTTLED. Primus—" What a ridiculous object you are with your rolled trousers!" Secundus —" Vhe fashion is founded on sense. It keeps ‘em out of the mud.” Primus —" Why the deuce then don’t you roll that overcoat? Baltimore, Maryland Richmond, Virginia. Nashville, Tennessee. “All aboard for Key West and Cuba!” “And you really trust me now, don’t you?” “Oh, yes, Jack.” “Well, then,” retorted the in- cipient angel, “what makes you keep the pot of jam locked up in the cupboard just the same as ever?” SOMETHING WRONG IN THE COUNT. St. Peter—* This thing is be- layed out oly-arrived shade—" What St. Peter —"You claim to be one of the four hundred, and I've got Seven thousand nine hundred and sixty-three of you people on my books now.” comicbooks.com