Judge, 1910-02-26 · page 3 of 16
Judge — February 26, 1910 — page 3: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three separate pieces of satirical content: 1. **"Wary Willie Number"** (top): A illustrated song by Horace Dodd Gavit depicting a hobo's romanticized view of county jail as refuge from winter hardship. The cartoon shows laundry and vagrants, satirizing how the poor might prefer incarceration to homelessness. 2. **"The Bribery That Failed"** (middle): A joke about a taxpayer (Willis) attempting to bribe an assessor to reduce taxes by showing him "a good time," resulting in the assessor seeing everything doubled and now charging double taxes. The satire targets both tax evasion attempts and corrupt officials. 3. **"Not Particular"** (bottom): A brief quip about lost purses and honesty, likely mocking Victorian-era sentimentality about morality. The page satirizes poverty, corruption, and class issues common to Gilded Age America.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE SONG OF THE HOBO. By HORACE DODD GASTIT. N SUMMERTIME I sing of pikes And leafy dales of green; Of bountiful and dreamy hikes, Where elfin bands are seen. I sing the joys of valleys fair, Rare joys that never fail; ? But when the winter chills the air, Give me the county jail! Oh, dear old bars! Oh, dear old cell! I love thy warm embraces well. I love the luscious breakfast bean That on thy festive board is seen. I love thy coffee, thin, but hot; I love my long and narrow cot, Sweet refuge from the wintry gale— Oh, dear old county jail! The birds go flitting to the South When Jack Frost comes as guest, And by some river's verdured mouth They build their winter's nest. They seek the land of roses sweet, Of lilies rarely pale; But I seek surcease from the sleet Within the county jail. Oh, dear old bars! Oh, dear old cell! Oh, dear old daily dinner bell! No Southern climes for such as me, Whose heart forever yearns for thee! 1 love thy locks, thy rattling keys; I love thy gifts of bread and cheese. Dear as the ocean to the whale Art thou, oh, county jail! Who cares for blasts that bitter blow? What bodes the blizzard fierce? Who cares for cheerless drifts of snow Or cruel winds that pierce? My winter home is over there. Its comforts never stale, Beneath the turnkey’s loving care, Within the county jail. Oh, dear old bars! Oh, dear old -ell! My very own soft cozy shell! What bungalow hath charms like thine, When frost hath nipped the punkin-vine? Care-free, unvexed, where day by day I while the wintry hours away Beyond the reach of ize and bail— Oh, dear old county jail! THE BRIBERY THAT FAILED. Willis—** Jones thought that by showing the assessors a good time he could get them to reduce his taxes."’ Gillis—* Did he succeed?” Willis—* No. He got them so full that they saw everything double, and now he is pay- ing twice as much as he was before."” NOT PARTICULAR Lady (upon recovery of lost purse) —"' May the yood Lord reward you for your honesty, sir. Fuzzy (anxious for a good square) —“" If you don't mind missus, I d just as lef you would comicbooks.com