Judge, 1914-09-19 · page 7 of 24
Judge — September 19, 1914 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a travel humor column with illustrations, not political satire. Sue Zannah recounts a solo European trip from Belgium, describing her adventures meeting a "Complete Stranger" on a train. The piece satirizes travel writing conventions and American tourists abroad. Zannah pokes fun at herself for packing excessively ("pi-jars," toothbrush, hairpin), complains about European crowds and manners, and mocks language barriers (the "wagon-restaurant employe" speaking broken English/French). The humor centers on her relief at meeting another American despite initially wanting solitude, and her discovery that he's a distant relation who saved three years for this trip. The phrase "morganatically" (a marriage between unequals) humorously describes their casual travel companionship. The illustrations show typical 1920s travel scenes: packing luggage, boating, and dining together. It's lighthearted social commentary on American travelers navigating Europe rather than political commentary.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
er sot se “1 gat Tul VERY SILENT AND FELT MYSELY TO BE THE MEANEST PIG THAT EVER LIVED” ‘ From U-rope to U ks By SUE ZANNAUH Brusses, Beiciu. boy! American, and looked it every inch of him, from his at HELLO, U! Where was I when last I wrote? In Ostend, nice, funny little parsonish felt hat with the roly-poly brim to | wasn't IY Well, I've quit. The crowds were too utterly — the hard-boiled-egg tips of his yellow (but properly mellowed ed | utter to utter; holiday folks, you know, horrid tough, like by age) shoes. He was aufully sweet, even if he did wear a Coneyonthe Fourth strap instead of suspenders. It isn’t thac I’m particularly de- i (not that lever was voted to suspenders, but a strap always makes me feel nervous in U.S. A. onthe —it looks so kind of insecure! Fourth) or other I made friends with the Complete Stranger because of my quite little places kind heart really. I felt so sorry for him. There wasn't a like that! Anyway, soul on the train as far as I could see—which was about the I felt I wanted a length of the car—who could speak English, and there was that change, so I packed _ nice boy trying to arrange for his dining-car seat with an utter my little pi-jars, idiot of a wagon-restaurant employe (these look quite Englishy my toothbrush, a words, but if you pronounce 'em properly, they’re French, all spare hairpin and a right). few whatnots, and Well, I went to the rescue; strangers-in-a-strange-land sort here Lam in Brus- of business, good old Anglo-Saxon friendship and all the rest sels for... as of it, and in less than no time the Complete Stranger had " long as Brussels'll crawled under my wing and had hailed me asa long-lost cousin. + stand for me. You see, he turned out to be a Nearly Related, after all. My, but this lit- He told me that he was in a shoe store at St. Louis, Mo., tle city isa peach! and that he’d saved up for three years for this trip. I said I Just like a baby Paris, only homelier and so cheap that it’s almost like liv- ing behind a free- lunch counter. It’s “80 1 PACKED MY LITTLE ri-sars, w¥ Toota- the sort of village BRUSH, ETC.” to visit when you're married incognito and traveling morganatically, if you know what I mean (though if you do, I’m sure you didn’t oughter). I started out to be here all on my little lonesome. The | Boys-who-are-so-very-nearly-related have been getting on my nerves, so I packed a bag the other morning and eame away without sending a paragraph to the papers about it. Then, bang! right away, almost before the train pulled out of the station, | made friends with a Complete Stranger. Such a nice “WE HAD A FINE LUNCH BREAKFAST” : { comicbooks.com