Judge, 1898-09-10 · page 7 of 16
Judge — September 10, 1898 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from Judge contains several satirical pieces reflecting early 20th-century American humor and social commentary. **"The Blossoms of War"** is a poem contrasting war's horrors (a grotesque tree of violence and death) with the enduring ideals of freedom and patriotic love that persist despite conflict—likely referencing World War I. **"Chip on Her Shoulder"** mocks the woman-suffrage movement through a street encounter where a male offers his seat to a woman activist, who indignantly rejects even this courtesy as an unwanted "liberty"—satirizing suffragists as unreasonably combative. **"On the Turtle Order"** ridicules Spanish naval incompetence through Spanish officials' absurd solution: building warships with wheels to escape onto land during battles—mocking Spain's declining military power. The remaining items are lighter humor: puns about corn/cornet playing, beach beauty judgments, a folk remedy joke about a penny healing a drummer's thumb, and a closing gag about Spanish coal shortages. Overall: typical Judge content mixing anti-suffrage sentiment with mockery of foreign powers and light domestic humor.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE BLOSSOMS OF WAR. ARTH never saw a tree more monstrous made— Purple leaves-dropsical and oozing blood, ‘Thorned with a snarl of steel, and as for shade, A fetid smoke outpoured. ‘A warty stem in tumid branches split, Nest of a carrion bird befouled with filth, The tree a-groan, and rotting under it ‘A sodden meadow’s t{lth, Yet still, ah, still, forth from the reeking bough, Lo! a white blossom, pure as God above, Lily of freedom ; and beside it now SOCIETY NOTE, ‘The rose of country-love. AMOS m, WELLS. Miss Casey led the german, CHIP ON HER SHOULDER. ON THE TURTLE ORDER. 2 Polite young man (in street-cat)—“ You are at liberty, madam, to 44 17URRAH!" exclaimed the Spanish official. “Spain is about to become take my seat.” the first naval power in the world. Not long ago we advertised for Woman-suffragist (flaring up)—“ No liberties, sir; no liberties!” plans’ and bids for the construction of a navy that would not sink. A plan was just submitted this morning that answers all requirements to at. : Viva Hispania!” “What is: it,” inquired another official—“ to have the war-ships built of cork?” “No; they are to be provided with wheels so they'can run up on the land and hide behind the hills during engagements.” : JUST SO. HE WAS enjoying an ear of corn in the good, old-fashioned way, “You look as if you were playing the flute,” his hostess remarked, smiling. “Oh, no,” was the amiable retort; “it’s a corn- et I'm playing, by ear.” VERY UNCOMPLIMENTARY. Miss Oldgyrle— And whom do you consider the prettiest girl at the beach?” Mr, Crityke—“ Why, Miss Bloomly, of course.” Miss Oldgyrle—" But 1 thought you said you had seen all the girls here but her.” Mr. Crityke— That's why I think she must be the prettiest.” A MATCHLESS REMEDY. THERE was a boy, a soldier-boy, A-pounding on a drum, Who laid him down to die because He'd pounded on his thumb. ‘There was a man, a passing man (A doctor, sure, was he), Who sat him on a stone and took ‘That drummer on his knee. He looked upon the drummer's wound With grave and learnéd face, And bade him very tightly hold ‘A penny on the place, ‘The soldier eyed that healing cent, And oh! how dare I tell? Full boldly did he drum again— His pounded thumb was well. Now all you wise, you men of drugs, ‘Take counsel here of me. Let not a word of this slip out— This matchless remedy ; For all the world were doctors too If once they knew the case. ‘ Pwill cure most any hurt there is— A penny on the place. CATMARINE YOUNG GLEN. HE contents of the pockets es i have a good deal of bear- A SPANISH WEAKNESS. i - Mxs. Noticerr—'* The people next door must be Spaniards.” ing on the fit of a man’s trou- Mr. Noticer What makes you think so?” sers. Mas, Noriceit— They are always short of coal.” comicbooks.com