Judge, 1905-09-16 · page 11 of 16
Judge — September 16, 1905 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page presents **early-20th-century advice literature** disguised as satire. The main editorial essay argues that women's domestic cooking skills—not feminism or independence—determine romantic success and male happiness. The satirical "hook" is absurdly exaggerated: a woman who cooks poorly is compared to one who "killed her husband" by feeding him "sawdust and nails," suggesting her bad cooking literally murdered him. The Connecticut girl story presents cooking mastery as a path to marriage ("rarebit gone wrong for aye" = lost love). The subheader "What He'd Do" presents a class commentary: a poor man would ask a millionaire if his wealth was honestly earned, implying moral scrutiny of the rich—a mild jab at Gilded Age capitalism. The "Honest Physician" section advocates natural remedies over drugs, reflecting Progressive Era skepticism toward pharmaceutical companies. **Context modern readers miss:** This reflects pre-WWI attitudes where women's value centered on domestic labor, and cooking ability was considered legitimate grounds for romantic judgment. The "feminism vs. homemaking" tension underlying the piece would have resonated with contemporary debates.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
A CULINARY ROMANCE. In a long and not undistinguished ca- reer as adviser of the lovelorn and the per- plexed we have al- ways insisted that girls should learn to cook. Frequently our advice has borne good fruit, and we have had the pleasure of seeing bitter estrangements melt away as the dough- nut grew less caky and acquired the spongy consistency of the real article. Love-duels so often grow out of the indi- gestible things the girl offers her fellow ! When her heart is torn because he is cross and non-committal in his wooing the trouble is as likely as not in the sog- gy crust of the pie she treats him to as the long evenings wear away. We protest with all our inight against the women’s breaking away from the bread and pie factory. Since we must eat, the business aught to be controlled by somebody who loves us, and not by the grasping hire- ling who would sock our systems full of scrap-iron and gloat over our untimely end. We maintain that when a woman learns the true magic of the kitchen she can takea potato-masher and the whites of four eggs and make any rea- sonable man her slave for life, But when she spurns the noble uses of a spoon and a gas-jet all her charms wilt and become as nothing to the man who gets hungry three times a day. To our mind a spuni with a nifty white cap on her head, ram- paging round a kitchen with business in her eye and knowing how to dish up a little mess of food and play it off against a white background of spotless napery, and have it of such a quality that it just tickles a man’s insides until he squeals like a pig nose-deep in clabber—well, that woman, in our eye, is about a three- hundred-ton diamond. We knew a highly intellectual woman once who killed her husband, We never told her so, but we know she filled him up with sawdust and nails and lay and tanned meats and bilge water and corroded pie and unconverted soups and demented ham until the poor soul faded away into the glad ultimately. PRICKLY HEAT-CHAFING quickly cured by Packers Tar Soap Pure as the Pines Relieves Sunburn, Bites, Stings, etc., like magic. SOOTHING - HEALING - ANTISEPTIC We have just been reading a beautiful story of a Connecticut girl, who had a passion for the fine art of fitting vegetables and other foreign substances to the human appetite. She met a young law student and had occasion now and then to cook something for him, She had mastered the rarebit so that that ferocious viand would lose its wild, ungovernable temper and purr round in one’s stomach like a kitten her way into the young man’s heart. broiled and stewed and fricasseed her way right through him until he saw that life without her would be a Welsh rarebit gone wrong for aye. This little true Story should make our girls pause and ask themselves whither they are whither: ing and why, and if so why not. WHAT HE’D DO. “If a millionaire was to offer you one hundred thousand dollars would you asi him if he made it honestly 2” * Would you question his morals ? “ What would you do?” Plain Dealer, HONEST PHYSICIAN WORKS WITH HIMSELF FIRST. It is a mistake to assume that physi- cians are always skeptical as to the cura- tive properties of anything else than rugs. Indeed, the best doctors are those who seek to heal with as little use of drugs as possible, and by the use of correct foot! and drink, A physician writes from Cal- ifornia to tell how he made a well man of himself with Nature's remedy : “Before I came from Europe, where | was born,” he says, “it was my custom. to take coffee with milk (café au lait) with my morning meal, a small cup (café noir) after my dinner and two or three additional small cups at my club during the evening. “In time nervous symptoms developed, with pains in the cardiac region, and ac- companied by great depression of spirits, despondency—in brief, “the blues!” I at first tried medicines, but got no relief and at last realized that all my troubles were caused by coffee. I thereupon quit its use forthwith, substituting English breakfast tea, “The tea seemed to help me at first, but in time the old distressing symptoms returned, and I quit it also and tried to use milk for my table beverage. This I was compelled, however, to abandon speedily, for while it relieved the ner- vousness somewhat, it brought on consti- pation. Then by a happy inspiration I was led to try the Postum Food Coffee. This was some months ago, and I still use it. Iam no longer nervous, nor do I suffer from the pains about the heart, while my * blues * have left me, and life is bright to me once more. I know that leaving off coffee and using Postum healed me, and I make it a rule to advise my patients to use it.” Name given by The Packer Mfg. Co, New York, Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich, “I'd probably fallin a fit."— Clevelan | | SHOWING PA. | “I know it's castor oil,” said papa, | but I want you to be a good boy and take it like a man.” DIAMONDS ," said papa, after waiting a why don’t you take it, then ?” “Ain't L takin’ it like a man ? replied Johnny. “A man never takes castor oil. He always takes them sweet kind o' pills.” —Detroit News. 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