Judge, 1902-04-05 · page 4 of 20
Judge — April 5, 1902 — page 4: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains Easter-themed poetry and illustrations rather than political satire. The poems celebrate Easter imagery—Easter bells, lilies, chicks, and bonnets—with whimsical, descriptive verses. A notable illustration shows "THE EASTER CHICK'S LAMENT," where a chick expresses uncertainty about its parentage ("I can't say that my mother was a lady, because my mother was an incubator"). The bottom illustration, "ON THE LAST DAY'S SKATING," depicts a humorous scene with children skating. A caption includes dialogue between Parson Jones and a boy about a skating accident, using genteel humor typical of the era. These are lighthearted, non-political pieces celebrating spring holidays and childhood experiences, without apparent social or political commentary.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
PUBLISHED WEEKLY AT THE JUDGE BUILDING 110 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW TORK. Terms to Subscribers, UNITED STATES AND CANADA IN ADVANCE. ‘One copy, one year, or $2 numbers - = $5.00 ‘One copy, six months, of 2 numbers < 3.50 ren weeks - = ess Crtnisratas Je ipany. Bream's building, Chancery lane. Saarhach's mews exchange, Mains, The contents of JUDGE are protected by copyright in both the Uni Infringement of this copyright will be promptly and vigorously prosecuted. CONTRIBUTORS must inclose a s! self-addressed envel otherwise return of the latter when fous ble cannot be guaranteed. DRAWINGS and all costributions seat fo the Art Department should ha name and address written plainly on each and every separate sketch. The ac descriptive letter-press should in every instance be its indi ‘upon a separate slip of paper. leclosure of stamps to the full amo: sure safe and prompt return of material not accepted. 1 picture, yf postage Is alse ASTER BELL is trembling fa The air is full of melody and joy; The swallow circies o'er the dimpled mere, While top and marble cheer the romping boy. The bullfrog ’s full of bliss without alloy- Oh, hear him croak while squawks the squawking jay, And see the brindled bullock pause to toy With bloodroot and with myrtle blowing gay Beneath the old fence-rails along the winding way. and near, The Easter lily blows, a sculptured dream Of loveliness—a symphony in snow Beside the bright carnation, all a-beam, And that’s « combination, don’t you know. And while we see the bow-wow pant and blow Upon the chain that makes him blink and wheeze And go" cachoo,” this thing we fully know The buds are wildly bursting on the trees And dreaming not that they next week to death may freeze. The Easter chick has capered from the ex: The rabbit, too, enjoys his little day. The Bock-fraught goat stands rampant on the keg— A sphinx of peace that drives all care away. The Ethiop loud chants his virelay While quaint conceits in whitewash o'er the wall He slings in an impressionistic spray And all the topmost tossers of the ball long the sward glance, gleam, glide, slide and sprawl. The Easter hat, a vision of delight, A fantasy, a melody, a dream, Now flashes, with its blos- soms blowing bright, Along the way, in airi- ness supreme. Though on straight or its glint and gleam, While bobbing round, ashape of green and red, Quite hold us with their witchery a-beam Until by fancy we are simply led To say it’s just the thing on Angelina’s head. The Easter bride comes trip- ping on the scene, An airy sylph of sweet, elusive grace. “) <K The anti-bilious pill upon the > ireen (Qe re Disports its poster, while the oe lamb apace THE EASTER CHICK'S. Turns flip-flaps, never land- COMPLAINT. ing on its face, “| can't say that my mother was But on its feet, upon the twink- ‘a lady, because my mother ling: grass; was an incubator.” Or aught else that it touches in the chase. While camphor fumes upon the breezes pass, We smell fresh paint and pour down lots of sassa The Easter gown, the Easter everything, Are now in bloom and dancing in the light. The organ-grinder ’s out upon the wing, The goose is honking northward in its flight, The moth-ball ’s flying swiftly left and right; The carpet-beater makes an awful din, The strawberry and shad are shining bright; And while in all our Easter duds we grin, The Easter mos-qui-to tunes up his mandolin. HILE EASTER hangs our visions On rapture’s highest peg, We hear the barreled sermon, And eat the barreled egg. ON THE LAST DAY'S SKATING. who went skating on Sunday. | Now, do you know what terrible thing happened to that litle boy 7" ti Parson Jones—" Once there was a little bo} Bor—"'Y-yes, sir. | s'pose his folks made him go to church ree times the next week to pay for it.” comicbooks.com