Judge, 1904-06-11 · page 10 of 16
Judge — June 11, 1904 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a comedic short story illustrated with line drawings, not political satire. It mocks a nervous, anxious man named Bounceby who purchases his first alarm clock to catch an early train. The joke centers on his neurotic overreaction: the loud ticking drives him progressively mad. He attempts increasingly absurd solutions—cotton in ears, wrapping it in a sweater, locking it in a trunk—each time doubting whether he'll actually hear the alarm. The satire targets not politics but **modern anxieties about new technology**. The alarm clock represents how contemporary mechanical devices, meant to solve problems, instead create neurotic stress. Bounceby's escalating panic satirizes the nervous tension of modern urban life and contemporary anxieties about industrial-age gadgetry. The humor relies on his self-aware hysteria being both relatable and ridiculous to Judge's readers.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Suaxesreare Jones—" We played in Red Bank last Garrick Brown—" Any one make a hit?” ‘Swaxesreare Jones—'* No; they were all poor shots.” HOW BOUNCEBY WOKE UP. Y FRIEND Bounceby is a very nervous man, and his nervousness is increasing to such a degree that he is a constant source of amusement at Mrs. Ginter’s boarding-house. ‘The other day it became absolutely necessary for him to wake up as early as five-thirty the following morning, in order to catch the six- o'clock train for Chicago, where he had an important engagement. Now, six-thirty is Bounceby’s rising hour, to which he adheres with bachelor regularity ; therefore he came home from the office with an alarm-clock under his arm—his first alarm-clock. Bounceby wound it up, set it, and placed it on a table at the head of his bed. “Now,” said he to himself, “I can sleep in peace. machine do my worrying about catching that train. thing is this modern inventiveness !” But, alas ! it was one of those loud-ticking alarm-clocks—the sixty- nine-cent kind. Tick, tock ! tick, tock !—it beat a villainous tattoo on Bounceby's tympanums. He covered his head with the bed-clothes, but sheets and blankets were transparent to the imperious noise. He added a pillow, with the imminent risk of suffocation. Still, tick, tick ! tickety, tock! His hearing was tense, and it sounded as loud as ever, Bounceby got up, turned on the electricity, found some cotton, and stuffed it in his ears, Over the cotton he drew the bed-clothes, and on the latter he placed the pillow. All in vain. The sharp iteration was merely changed to a heavy thump, thump, thumpety, thump. It was more maddening than before. He stood it for ten minutes or so, growing hotter all the time, physically and mentally; then he flung off the coverings, sat up in bed, and glowered in the dark at the centre of disturbance. The clock was in no wise abashed, but hammered away industriously. Bounceby bethought himself of his sweater, got up again, and wrapped the clock in it, He re- turned to his couch and noted with satisfaction a marked dimi- nution of disturbance. “That's the ticket,” said Bounceby, ensconcing himself again beneath sheets, blankets I can let that What a great TATTERDEN TORAN- and pillows, not forgetting the cotton in his ears. Ti-ti-tick-toc-k !"" It was feeble, but it was still there ; and to Bounceby’s excited apprehension the buzz of a gnat was equal to the thunder of an express- train. “Tl forget it,” said he, “and go to sleep like a sensible man." But the more he tried to go to sleep the more he didn’t. « This must be stopped !" the sufferer cried with conviction. He did not refer to the clock, but to the situa- tion, There was a trunk in his closet. Bounceby carried thither the sweater- swathed timepiece, placed it in the trunk, put down the lid, shut the door, and went back to bed. To his great re- lief, he found that not a sound was aa- dible. He composed himself, with a sigh, for his postponed slumber. But a disquieting thought seized the luckless man. Had he overdone the matter? Would he hear the alarm now when it went off? Evidently he must test it on that point, or he could have no rest. So Bounceby rose once more, turned the hands till the alarm started, hastily thrust the clock into the trunk, shut trunk-lid and dooy, and, scurrying back to bed, got the pillow over his head before the clatter was ended. To his entire satisfaction, he found it sufficiently audible even beneath the pillow, He therefore set the clock to the correct time, wrapped it in the sweater, placed the bundle in the trunk, shut the lid, closed the door, and retired finally to his couch, where he slept the sleep of the prudent. At six-thirty the next morning Bounceby woke from slumber and with wild eyes perceived the daylight, and realized that his train was well on its way. A bound took him to the closet-door, A jerk, and the faithless clock was in his hand, still ticking away for dear life. Bounceby was about to dash it on the floor when a sudden thought brought a silly expression to his stern countenance, and he set the timepiece quietly down. He had forgotten, after his little experiment, to wind up the strike ing part again, night.” Astos R WRLLS, THRIFT. THAT quaint old adage ne'er grows sere— “A penny saved ‘sa penny won.” The white ducks father wore last year Are now the ducklings of his son. NOT MUCH DIFFERENCE. “Why Is it so many lovesick girls takes carbolic acid?” Wareack Bocos--"* Well. dat's de next best t'ing ter takin’ a husband, yer know."* comicbooks.com