Judge, 1907-12-21 · page 7 of 16
Judge — December 21, 1907 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains several satirical pieces lampooning early 20th-century American society: **"Shopping for Christmas"** (poem): A wealthy woman's complaint about holiday shopping—overcrowded stores, rude salespeople, forgotten eyeglasses, and the exhaustion of purchasing fashionable items. The satire mocks upper-class materialism and women's obsession with status goods like silk gloves and brooches. **"Had It Down Fine"** (comic with illustration): A domestic comedy where a new Irish chambermaid, witnessing her mistress fall down stairs, responds that the mistress has "got it down fine" but the job's "too strenuous." The humor relies on Irish dialect humor, common in period publications. **Other pieces** include brief jokes about gifts, classical music interrupted by a jack-in-the-box, and "The Distribution of the Toys"—satirizing a society matron so consumed by club meetings she neglects her children, hastily distributing toys without supervision. The satire targets wealth inequality, neglectful parenting among the privileged classes, and commercialized Christmas.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
SHOPPING FOR CHRISTMAS. HIS shopping for Christmas is dreadful! One doesn't know where to begin (Though I boasted ideas a headful), With salespeople ugly as sin. One doesn't know where to. begin— And here I've forgotten my glasses! With salespeople ugly as sin, Or green as proverbial grass is. And hese I've forgotten my glasses! Took very passé, no doubt, Or green as proverbial grass is— But let them watch what they're about! T look very passé, no doubt! I wish I'd brought Bob, though he higgles! . But let them watch what they're about ! I won't stand their sauce nor their giggles. I wish I'd brought Bob. Though he higgles, He has most adorable taste. I won't stand their sauce nor their giggles— That brooch would just set off my waist! He has most adorable taste— What a crush! And no corner to rest int That brooch would just set off my waist— ‘The one with the point d'esprit vest in. What a crush! And no comer to rest int You may be very glad you're a man— The one with the point d’esprit vest in, ‘You know, and revers of white panne. You may be very glad you're a man! Silk gloves! Special sale! No one needs them, You dnow! And revers of white panne! Blank’s poems! Marked down! Noone reads them. Silk gloves. Special sale. No one needs them. Noon already? And nothing to show! Blank’s poems marked down! (Noone reads them!) Matinge? Why, of course I will go. Noon already and nothing to show, ‘Though I boasted ideas a headful. Matinge!” Why, of course I will go! This shopping for Christmas is dreadful! EDWARD W. BARNARD, HAD IT DOWN FINE. HE housewife was showing her new chambermaid through the up- stairs, when finally they came to a staircase leading down into the rear yard. “Mary,” said she, stepping out on the landing, wish to pass down to the back yard go down this way. Just then the speaker slipped and was precipitated with a great clattering to the bottom. “Are yez hurt, mum?" cried the affrighted cham- bermatd, staring down from above. “No; it’s noth- ing,” came the re- turn as the dishev- eled mistress rose to her feet, in proof. “Thin ye've got it down foine, mum; but th’job’s too shtrenuous fer me.” whenever you IN 1920. Hubby —"This pie, my love, is just the kind that mother used to buy at her bak- ery.” Locic. Jim—* Say, Mame, wot's de reason every- body don’t git a present when dere’s so many Santy Clauses?” THE TRIUMPH OF CLASSICeOVER COMMON MUSIC. Mr. T. Cat (as disturbed musician appears on scene)—" Well, wouldn't that jolt a saint—a Jack-In-the-box for ours!" ‘THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE TOYS. MBs: STILES VAN BROCKLIN, whose time was divided among her twelve women’s clubs and away from her children, took an off-day, at Christmas, to visit a toy-shop in the interest of her six off- spring. Loaded down with her gaudy purchases, she had reached her front yard, where the children were making a snow-man, when an elegant equipage jingled up to the curb and stopped. “Oh, Mrs. van Brocklin !” cried a lady from the coach, “come with me to the Social Proklem meeting.” Exclaiming that she had forgotten all about this meeting, the mother quickly approached the oldest of the children about the snow- man and pressed the toy packages in his arm. «Take these inside and distribute them among your brothers and sisters," she said ; and the next inoment she was whisked away in the friend's coach. That night, when she returned home, she was struck by the surly and tear-stained faces of her children. « Put the dears right to bed,” she ordered the nurse, taking in the situation with the quickness and accuracy of the average club-woman. “Tcan see they're tired out and sleepy after so much excitement with their new toys.” “Tt ain't that, ma’am,” returned nurse.“ You "—— “1 didn’t bring them just what each wanted, perhaps? Well, it’s hard to please so many "—— “It ain't that, either, mum ; but you gave all the toys to the boy next door!” SOMETHING WRONG. THE little girl had gotten up very early in the morning for the first time. “Oh, mamma!” she exclaimed, returning from the window, “ the sun ‘s comin’ out all right, but God 's forgotten to turn off the comicbooks.com