Judge, 1904-11-26 · page 7 of 16
Judge — November 26, 1904 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from *Judge* contains three separate humorous pieces: **"An Old Salt's Observations"** presents a sailor's tall tale about Thanksgiving 1894, featuring Parson Philus Dredge—a shipwreck survivor so starved and sun-blistered after 38 days adrift that he gives thanks merely for not being frostbitten. The satire mocks religious gratitude taken to absurd extremes. **"He Got the Job"** is a brief joke about an immigrant worker (Izzy) so desperate he negotiates his own salary downward from ten thousand to two dollars fifty cents weekly—satirizing labor exploitation and immigrant desperation. **"Heathen Hospitality"** and **"A Desert Tragedy"** are illustrated jokes about cannibals and Native Americans, reflecting common (and offensive) period stereotypes used for comedic effect in mainstream publications. The page exemplifies *Judge*'s satirical approach: exaggeration, ethnic caricature, and social commentary targeting labor conditions, religious hypocrisy, and contemporary anxieties.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
AN OLD SALT’S OBSERVATIONS. (ith H i 66 AIN'T it real kind Mh, of lonesome around here?” asks a new arrival in. the heaven for fowls. “Yes,” said the one bird soul that was walkin’ on the ‘corn- paved streets,“ All the Thanksgivin’ tur- key souls has gone down stairs to act as escorts for the souls of Christmas geese that'll soon be waitin’ in great numbers to come up.” “What you goin’ to wish for with your Thanksgivin’-turkey wish-bone 2" I asked of Bill Eastwind. “Well,” says Bill, “I'm so hungry, hav- in’ been out of work for fourteen weeks by any ship’s chronome- ter, that like enough I won't be able to re- sist the temptation to eat that wish-bone up. But if I'm able to control my appetite an’ save it till it gits dry enough to wish with, I reckon that I'll jest wish, while I break it, for somethin’ to be thankful for.” Parson Philus Dredge, he was the thankfulest man I ever see. Thanksgivin' come on November twenty-fourth in 1894. October sev- enteenth we was wrecked, an’ we had devoted the thirty-eight inter- jays to merry driftin’ on the boundin’ billow in an open boat, zigzaggin’ with the vagrant winds across the equator. We allus knew where the equator was, for that year it was so hot that all along the line of it, where it touched water, the water biled for eight inches on each side of it, When the sun sunk it made lovely sunsets in that there risin’ steam. Hot? It would have frost-bit your fingers to touch Dutch love after you'd got accustomed to that heat. Izzy. “Ten t’ousand a year.” Boss— What?” We was HE GOT THE JOB. Boss— Well, what kind of a salary would you start in on?" lzzy—" Yep; but you kin beat me down to two dollars und fifty cents a veek." nigh onto death. Par- son Philus, he was sun-blind, His hands an’ face an’ arms was sun-blistered, an’ aft- er we used his shirt for a signal of distress his back was, too. We hadn't had no food for more ‘n a month, nor water for 4 bad four weeks, But when the mornin’ of ‘Thanksgivin’ showed up at the head of the notches he had carved into a sweep-handle to keep track of time he bowed his head, an’ would have prayed aloud if his tongue hadn't been so swelled it occupied his whole mouth an’ left no room for words. But he knelt there in the bilge-water, an’ we could see that he was givin’ thanks, Later, when he got his parts of speech back after bein’ ‘rescued, we asked him what it was that he had been thankful for there when he was the very as" in the middle of “disaster.” Well,” says he, «1 thought it out for some time, an’ couldn't find that the blazin’ sun had left me anythin’ to be thankful for. An’ then, suddenly, it occurs to me that it had after all, an'I offered meed of gratitude because | wasn't frost-bit !" RDWARD MARSHAL HEATHEN HOSPITALITY. «6 DUT on your largest kettle,” says the cannibal chieftain to his chef as he leaves the palace the day before Thanksgiving. “ May I be so bold as to ask the reason ?” asks the chef. “think, if Lam lucky at the raffle, that I shall bring the new mis- sionary home for Thanksgiving dinner to-night.” A DESERT TRAGEDY. Proressor Fuz—'' Ah! | am indeed most fortunate—a wonderful species of cactus hitherto unknown, | shall go down to posterity as its discoverer."" Cuier Tensrot (who has fallen by the wayside)—"* Wow! Heap blame fool white man try to scalp blg Injun's foot! Wow! wow! wow!” comicbooks.com