Judge, 1913-12-06 · page 15 of 40
Judge — December 6, 1913 — page 15: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two distinct pieces of social satire: **Left side:** A humorous short story about a man's frustrating experience exchanging a women's coat, satirizing bureaucratic retail procedures. The joke centers on the absurd runaround—multiple clerks, signatures, and desk locations required for a simple exchange, suggesting department store inefficiency. **Right side:** "Horace on Broadway," a poem mocking an aging woman who behaves like a young person. It references an ancient Horace poem, adapting classical themes to modern Broadway society. The satire targets "scandalous" older women who dress youthfully (using rouge/makeup), go out dancing ("tango"), pursue younger men, and neglect domestic duties. The poem's moral: elderly women should stay home, not act like "silly old hens." **The illustration** "The Second Generation" (bottom right) appears to show a street scene but its specific satirical meaning is unclear from the image alone. The content reflects early 20th-century attitudes about age, gender propriety, and women's social roles.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
started talking about Catherine, I just could- not stop. She laid out a coat. It had lots of pockets and strong-Jooking buttons. “‘How much is it?’’ I asked, reaching into my inside pocket. “Thirty-three dollars and forty-nine cents.’” “‘How much is that one?’’ pointing to an- other. “Forty dollars.’” “T’ll take it.’’ That was even change. After a while a girl came to get the coat and wrap it up. Later in the morning the coat came back. I seized it and dashed for the office. The old man was there when I arrived— he always is if one of us is late. Then I began to worry about the coat. I unwrapped it and saw that some of the pockets were just imitation. Of course Catherine wouldn’t like such a coat. So in the evening, after the day’s work was over, I rushed back to the store to ex- change it. “Here, I want to exchange this,’’ I panted, worming in. “You'll have to see the floorwalker for an O. K.,’’ said the girl, without looking up. So I started out to find the floorwalker. He must have’ known that I was coming, but at last I cornered him and after a few minutes of argument got him to sign the slip. Then the girl was busy. After a time she took up my case. “Go to the exchange desk and get another slip,’’ she com- manded, and off I went looking for the exchange desk. , They had hidden it pretty well, but at last I found it and got an ex- change slip. “I want to exchange this for another coat,’’ I explained. Next year I would go down the day after the Fourth. She amused herself with the rack again. Finally she held out acoat. It was a lovely wrap. Catherine would be a dream init. ‘How much is it?” I asked. “Thirty-three dollars and forty-nine cents,’’ she said. “There was a man looking at it this morning.”” “Yes, I know I did; but I’ll take it just the same.’’ In triumph I carried the $33.49 coat away, and on Christ- mas morning sent it to the sweetest girl in the world. Cath- erine liked it, but it wasn’t her color, so a few days later I carried it back and exchanged it for the one that I had taken to the office, which just suited her and was delightfully satis- factory in every way! Stage Property Dominie—Did you get all the pretty things that were on the Christmas tree? ‘ Freddie—Not much I didn’t! They gave me only the ones they couldn’t put away for next Christmas. THE WEEDS IN CUPID'S GARDEN ‘ . Horace on Broadway (Uxor pauperis Ibyei.— Horace, Book tii, Ode 15) you ARE old, Mrs. Ibycus, wrinkled and old, And still you are going the pace; . Your actions are scandalous—really, I’m told They know you all over the place. You doll yourself up like a kid of sixteen; You tango from morning to night; . You wear out your partners; you primp and you preen— “Do you think, at your age, it is right?” You run after boys that are just out of school; You trot with your daughter’s young men, Forgetting that chickens may do, as a rule, What’s forbidden a silly old hen. Oh, rub off the rouge of your giddy career, And send back your drinks to the bar! The home is the sphere for a woman, my dear— When the woman’s as old as you are !—Louts Untermeyer. va THE SECOND GENERATION ‘ comicbooks.com