Judge, 1897-03-27 · page 3 of 16
Judge — March 27, 1897 — page 3: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Judge Magazine Page 203 This page contains humor pieces and illustrations typical of late 19th/early 20th-century satirical magazine content: **"Style in Church"** mocks a woman named Cindy for wearing an ostentatious yellow dress with roses to church—prioritizing fashion over religious decorum. **"An Arkansas Simile"** jokes about a lazy man who won't work, comparing him to a cat lounging on his chest. **"A Night-Ride"** is a romantic poem about two riders under stars. **"Why Pat Threw Up the Job"** shows a contractor quitting work due to difficult labor conditions. The bottom three cartoon panels depict slapstick humor involving workers and physical comedy—"Hilarious Cow-Puncher," "Handled Without Gloves," and "Proprietor Ruffed," all featuring comedic violence or mishaps typical of Judge's working-class humor.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
STYLE IN CHURCH. IC INDY, small, black, skinny, and sixty (if she was a day), was passionately fond of finery. On the morning of the big revival she appeared in my sitting-room, bring- ing for my inspection a large yellow straw hat surmounted by a perfect flower-garden of roses—red, white and pink. With a most self-satis- fied smile she asked, “ Honey, how does you like my new Sunday-go- ter-meetin’ bonnet? I trade fur hit wid dem {ryin'-size chickens I raise in de house las’ winter.” “ Well, ‘Cindy, don’t you think it is rather gay?” “ Lor, no, Miss Sall de style. I'm boun’ ter war hit, en ef I can't be de bell-weffer I kin des gallop wid de res’ ob de flock.” AN ARKANSAW SIMILE, Northern tourist (in Arkansas) “That fellow, Polk Lazzenberry, is very lazy, isn’t he?” Prominent native — Him? He's so dad-blamed lazy that he has to carry a couple of cats under his arms to do his breathin’ for him!" Wire (impatiently) WHY PAT THREW UP THE JOB. ContRAcToR CRrowLey (fo new hand)—"' Take your pick of the picks and start in picking ‘Then shovel out the dirt ff you get in a hole call me—after- wards go over with Casey and fill in the rest of your time fillin’ in.” Hitarious cow-puncuxn— "Whoop! Wire Mair Bill's my handle, an’ | vin mop anythin’ in this tanglefoot fact'ry ” A DISTINCTION. Husnano —"‘Ah, have you been shopping, my dea Fe “Why, of course not, stupid. Can't you see I've been trapesing all over town buying things?” A NIGHT-RIDE, E RODE where the night-moths be, When the night was late, And the wheel that she rode with me Was the wheel of fate. Dew on the paths and dew On each wayside tree— Stars in the lifted blue When she rode with me. Stil! Not a chirp nor ery From the nests asleep— Nor rustle nor leafy sigh From the orchards deep ; Nor a song from the drowsy streams, On their pebbled bars— Yet the world was as full of dreams As the night of stars. ! Not a word nor breath From her lips so near, Yet far, as a coral wreath In the sea-tide clear. HANDLED WITHOUT GLOVES. yeair.” (Bi) Proprietor BiFFRR—~ " What a gifted coyote Sweet, oh, as sweet and far Her cheek, and as white, As the pale sweet cheek of a star In the heaven-height. ‘Two—as we glided on Like swift birds in flight; Two, but we rode as one In the lonely night. Two, but we rode as one ‘Through the flying dark Till the quiet home-light shone Like a beacon-spark. Was it her sigh’s caress ‘That the soft wind brought? Oh, that I could but guess Her unspoken thought ! What would her good-night be, At the open gate? For the wheel that she rode with me Was the wheel of fate. DRNVR® BENNETT. Proprietor Birrer—'* Grab this handle an’ start in moppin’ ther floor. Savvy?” comicbooks.com