Judge, 1899-03-25 · page 9 of 18
Judge — March 25, 1899 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from the satirical magazine **Judge** contains multiple short pieces satirizing Irish-American culture and everyday life around the turn of the 20th century. **"A Fragment of the Parade"** mocks Irish immigrants through exaggerated dialect, showing working-class Irishmen carrying a flag carelessly—the joke being their supposed lack of dignity. **"Erin's Harp of Gold"** is a sentimental poem about Irish heritage, contrasting with the crude humor elsewhere on the page, suggesting Judge's mixed approach to Irish subjects. **"A Sure Sign"** features a "Koback philosopher"—a rural character spouting obvious wisdom ("meeting a hearse means death"), satirizing folk logic. **The bottom cartoon "The Monkey Barber"** shows a monkey with a sign promising haircuts, then depicted sitting amid the destruction he caused—a visual joke about incompetence. **"A Promise-Breaker"** jokes about a conductor taking a sleeping-car ticket, treating petty dishonesty as humorous. Overall, the page reflects turn-of-century American humor: ethnic stereotyping, rural simplicity, and cynical observations about small-scale deception and human nature.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
A FRAGMENT OF THE PARADE. “Here, Murphy! howld thot flag up. Anny ‘one would think yez wuz carryin’ a hod.” ERIN’S HARP OF GOLD. WHEN Erin's sons went out to war, In ages long ago, + A minstrel left his forest home To lead them on the foe. With plume and spear and burnished shield He rode, a warrior bold ; Bat first upon the willow-tree Hung up bis harp of gold. ‘The minstrel’s songs in silence sleep. The minstrel’s heart is dust ; His plume has turned to thistledown, His shield and spear to rust. The branches of the willow-tree Have mingled with the mould, But Erin still retains its green And keeps the harp of gold. Through all the ballads of her race ‘The mouraful willow sighs ; ‘And when against the morning light Her ancient banner flies The willow’s tint of tender green Still dyes each silken fold, And on its vivid emerald hangs The minstrel’s harp of gold. fe MINHA TRYING. INTERESTING TO KNOW. Mrs. Benkam—" Dr, Ames has a new wife, John.” Suadge A SURE SIGN. “SWELL, yes.” remarked the Kohack phi- losopher, removirlg the stem of his be- loved pipe from his mouth: “I guess you are right. I agree with you—in a measure, any- how. I cackerlate, myself, that to meet a hearse is a sure sign of death. I have never known of anybody haulin’ a live man around in a hearse.” SAINT PATRICK, FOR the furare we'd never have reason to quake, Nor sigh for the past to retrieve, If you'd only have happened to tackle the snake ‘That tempted our poor Mother Ive. PHENOMENALLY COMMON. Visitor — So this is some of that weather that you brag so much about? It scems to me to be about like the average for this time of the year over the country generally.” Oldest inhabitant— About like the aver age? Young feller, I've lived in this same place fer nigh onto seventy-two years, an’ this here weather is more like the average than any we've had in all that time.” HIS FIRST TRIP. A LENTEN PSALM. Old Mrs. Lantry Went to a pantry To get her dog something to eat. "Twas the first day of Lent, No butcher was sent, And so the poor dog had no meat, THE WEARING OF THE GREEN. WE TWO and a chaperon star Lost here in the dusk’s dim way, And tasked by a mood, she croons me A lilt of Saint Patrick's day. Tis ouly an old-time lyric Of the old-time lyrical years ; But caught in the rhythm there trembles What only my spirit hears. A something so vague and fleeting, T know not but it may be The ghost of a harper’s ballade, Or cry of her heart to me; Or maybe a measure blown from That twilight's evanished sheen, When earth and our hearts for token Alike were wearing the green. JOUN DANL watTE. A PROMISE-BREAKER. Benham (who is president of the home bicycle-club, without looking up from his daily)—"Same gear ’s the old one?” Faumex Grsnaw—" Now, by cracky! t me like swindlin’. Paid two-fifty fer a sleepin'-car-ticket, an’ the conductor comes ‘long fust thing an’ takes it away from me.” Altorney (to. witness) —" What is the plaintift’s reputation for truthfulness >" Witness — Wall, she is a dressmaker.” yy comicbooks.com