Judge, 1910-06-25 · page 7 of 25
Judge — June 25, 1910 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from Judge magazine contains multiple satirical pieces targeting early 20th-century social issues: **"Pink for Girls; Blue for Boys"** mocks the emerging women's suffrage movement by having a mother request pale yellow ribbon for her infant daughter's cap because "the dear little thing is a suffragette"—satirizing feminists as overly ideological. **"The Woman who helps support a voter"** directly addresses women's voting rights, sarcastically suggesting women who financially support voters deserve voting power themselves. **"Mother Goose Cooked"** parodies nursery rhymes to criticize food storage practices, likely referencing contemporary concerns about preserved or artificially stored foods. The page also includes lighter humor about mosquitoes, taxi overcharges, and theatrical managers—typical Judge fare mixing political commentary with general satire. The suffrage mockery reflects Judge's conservative editorial stance during the pre-1920 women's voting rights debates.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
JUDGE AN EASY PLAN. 4 CQUR HOUSE is full of old furniture that we ought to throw away, yet my husband thinks it is too good to de- stroy. I wish I knew of some way of wearing it out quickly,” says the lady with the coral eardrops. “Why don’t you rent the house fur- nished for the sum- mer?” asks the lady with the purple veil. BLANK VERSE. Poet—* You pub- lished a poem of mine last week. You pay according to the kind of verse, don’t you?” Editor—* Yes. George, give the gen- tleman a blank check,” “ADRIFT THREE DAYS AND NOT A PLANET IN SIGHT.” HOW DEAR TO MY HEART. By ROSCOE GILMORE STOTT. OW DEAR to my heart are some screens in the wildwood, When o’er-fond mosquitoes resent them, in view Of baffled advantage to sip in a mild mood, Creating red spots that are madd’ning to you! The wide-spreading lake and hotel that stood by it, The tennis court, golf links where champions fell, Your own rustic cot (and no one dare deny it!) Were owned by mosquitoes that came from the well— Those long-starved mosquitoes, those thirsty mosquitoes, Those blank, blank mosquitoes that came from the well! PINK FOR GIRLS; BLUE FOR BOYS. Mrs. Up-to-date (in infants’ wear department)—‘' You may send me this cap, please.”” Clerk—* Yes, madam. Do you wish the ribbons pink or blue Mrs, Up-to-date— Oh, pale yellow, of course! The dear little thing is a suffragette.”” ‘THE WOMAN who helps to support a voter thinks she ought to have a right to support somebody with her vote. DISTASTEFUL EVOLUTION. Gloomy Grub—"* I approve of the gospel of work all right, and the simple life; but what 's the use of my trying ?"" Ba—" Tot, tat! What 's discouraged you, old chap ?"” Gloomy Grub—"* Why, you know very well, I''m doomed to lead a butterfly existence no matter how I strive !"" THE PROPER ENVIRONMENT. TWO-FER-FIVE cigar is a rank proposition in the city, but it makes good at fifteen cents by the sad sea waves or on the mountain tops. SHIFTING THE RESPONSIBILITY. Angry taxicab passenger (who has been charged ten dollars for a ride of two blocks) —‘* Your wheels slipped like sin!"’ The chauffeur—*1 know they did. Someone oiled the street. But I ain’t to blame for that, am 17” HEART FAILURE. AN EYE-OPENER. THE OLD gambler lay dying. His hours in the sand-glass of time were quickly slipping away. His numerous friends who called at his bedside failed at recognition. Beside his cot sat nis faithful comrade, his side partner of many astiff poker game. To his many broken-voiced inquiries came no re- sponse. He grasped the dying man’s hand in a warm, fervent grip. ‘Do you see me, Bill?” he softly asked. The dying man slowly raised his head and peered unsee- ingly through glazed eyes. ‘See you?” he repeated, in a gaspy voice, while the faintest flicker of a smile came suddenly to the pale ch-eks of the old gambler. ‘Give me a flush and I’ll see you.” MOTHER GOOSE COOKED. By FP. PITZER. LITILE Bo Peep Has lost her sheep, And I know where she'll find them— On cold-storage pegs, With skewered-up legs, And agovernment stamp behind them. EVERYTHING IN ITS PLACE De Style—'* Why did the Depart- ment of Agriculture get out a cook- book?” Gunbusta—"I don’t know; it certainly belongs to the Department of the Interior.” (THE THEATRICAL manager doesn’t care about hitching his wagon to a star so much as hitch- ing a few stars to his wagon, comicbooks.com