Judge, 1894-05-19 · page 4 of 16
Judge — May 19, 1894 — page 4: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This *Judge* magazine page contains three satirical pieces: **"Rather Tame as Yet"**: A Southern cousin complains a formal party isn't entertaining—he's waiting for shooting to begin, mocking the stereotype of violent, uncouth Southerners. **"A Very Bad Memory"**: A French barber recounts meeting a well-dressed gentleman who invited him to dinner, then "forgot" his wallet and disappeared with the barber's money. The joke plays on the barber's naive trust and the con-artist's smooth manipulation. The barber keeps insisting the man must return because he's "so fine"—satirizing gullibility and class deference. **"Election-Day in Mobile"**: A Southern colonel enthusiastically greets a Black man before voting, then abruptly dismisses him with contempt once he's voted, revealing that the polite treatment was purely transactional—dark satire on the performative nature of post-Reconstruction Southern politics. **"Judging from Appearances"**: A visual gag about mistaking water depth based on visible features.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
RATHER TAME AS YET. Hostess —"* I hope you are enjoying yourself, Cousin Waywest."" Tux covsin—" Wa-al no, Least ways, not yit. But I will soon as ther shootin’ begins.” A VERY BAD MEMORY. RANGOIS took a vacation last week and, judging from his account, he had a lesson in the school of experience. He came up on the succeeding morning with a grave countenance, by which it was evident that there was something on his mind. When he had brought out the shaving-materials and begun the operation of strapping the razor he said, * Monsieur, have you ze gentlemen met wiz ze bad memory ?” I replied that I had, on occasion, met men with treacherous memories. “Thave meet wiz a gentleman wiz ze vaire bad memory, monsicur,” he resumed. “I meet him in ze French quartaire. He was vaire fine gentlehomme, vaire fine clothes, vaire nit gloves, vaire nit boot, vaire fine cane, mais he have ze vaire bad memory.’ He say to me, ‘Monsieur, were s'all I find ze good place for ze table d’béte?" I see he is straingaire in ze ceety and walk iz heem to.ze bon He was vaire grateful, and say to me, ‘ Monsieur, you are vaire kind, mais I cannot dine alone, and you will confer ze grande favaire to dine wiz me.’ I feel eet cez ze grande compliment to dine wiz so fine gentlehomme, and go wiz heem. Au bien, we have ze fine dinnaire, ze turtle soup, ze fowl, ze game, ze ros bif, ze entré, ze pousse café, tout les chose, and a boutelle of ze bes wine. “ Mais, w'en we have finish I sce zat my frien’ have ze grande distress. He frown, he mut- ¢ to heemself, he put hees hand in hees pouche, and y. ‘By Jove! zis ces awkwar. Thave left ze purse at home!’ Zen I feel vaire bad for heem, for he eez vaire much—w'at you call—embarrasse, and I say to heem, ‘ Nevaire mind, monsieur; 1 s‘all have ze grande plaisseure las’ he s: ELECTION-DAY IN MOBILE. Coronet. Dixie (candidate for sheriff}—" Sh, Mr. Smith, how are you? Wife and family well hope. How's the baby coming on? Er—have you—hem—voted yet?" Mr, Smitit—** Yes, sah.” Cotonet Dixit —"* Well, then, you pudd’n- headed black slouch, what in hades are you loafing around here for? Clear out with you !* JUDGING FROM APPEARANCES. —lt can't be very deep, since it doesn't cover that bird's legs.” “Well, by gum, who'd have thought it !"* to pay ze bill.’ * No, no, monsieur!" he say. ‘I can= not agree to such a ing; mais, eef you will let me take ze purse I s’all go to ze desk and pay ze bill, and hand you ze shange some ozzaire time.’ ‘Cer- tainment, monsieur,’ I say, for he ecz so fine gentle- homme, and he take ze purse and go to ze desk to pay ze bill and I wait for heem. But, mon Dieu, monsieur! w'at you Vink? He come not back en- core! Mais, I know eet eez ze bad memory. He have ze vaire bad memory. He have already told me zat. He will come back, for he eez so fine gentlehomme, Mais, | feel vaire bad for heem, for I know he will be vaire much embarrasse w'en he discovaire w'at he has done—and he knows not my address. Perhaps he will leave ze purse at ze café. Eh, monsieur ? MAROLD PAYNE. comicbooks.com