Judge, 1914-09-26 · page 7 of 24
Judge — September 26, 1914 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains multiple satirical pieces typical of early 20th-century Judge magazine: **"High Finance"** presents a romantic joke about marriage economics—a common theme mocking both wealth inequality and courtship. **"Pedagogic Promises"** is a cynical poem by John Kendrick Bangs attacking teachers who promise students that education guarantees success and wealth. The speaker describes studying diligently but gaining no power or position—even losing an election for alderman. He concludes by threatening to tell teachers to stop feeding such lies to children, viewing their "prophecies" as destructive political nonsense. **Other vignettes** mock daily absurdities: a woman mourning spoiled picnics while sunshine exists elsewhere, a child's widow costume joke, and the observation that having no bad habits is itself disagreeable. **"A Partial Eclipse"** (illustration) appears to show an interior social scene, though its specific satirical point isn't clear from available text. The overall tone reflects Progressive-era skepticism about American meritocratic promises and institutional claims.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
pare HIGH FINANCE Cynthia —But, Jack, I can’t marry you. You don’t make enough money to support two. — Jack—But then we would be one. Pedagogic Promises Impressionable His Complaint By JOHN KENDRICK BANOS First yegg—Handsome Hal has broken «4"THE thing that makes me maddest, Y TEACHERS in the ancient days | away from many a copper, but they've when the picnic is spoiled by the Made promises galore landed him at last. weather,”’ confessed Grout G. Smith, the Of honors waiting on my ways Second yegg—Overpowered him, eh? well-known misanthrope, ‘is the thought If I would study more. First yegg—Not exactly. The depart- that while the festivities here are being “You'll make your fortune, lad,’’saidone: — ment sent a handsome policewoman after duused and dimmed by a downpour of “A fortune vast, immense."’ him, and he couldn’t resist her. rain, away off somewhere, where there My present store of wealth will run isn’t a durn thing going on, the sun is ‘To forty-seven'cental Forced Economy ing brightly and all nature smiles." “You'll rank among the wisest men Little Mary (plaintively, as she sadly . Tn all our wondrous land.” surveys the meager dinner)—Has Lent Her Little Game That was the promise made me then come again, meme? ‘Awily Foamy widow tamed’ Weed) By all the teaching band. Her mother—No, my child; papa has As graceful and slim as a reed, I plugged away both night and day bought tickets for the grand opera. Sighed, ‘For poor darling Jack The sage’s prize to win, . I shall always wear black And now, no matter what I say, At the Movies (For it’s very becoming, indeed)."’ Folks merely sit and grin! a ; Tess—Why were you weeping in the —— Another one remarked that if picture show? One of the most disagreeable of bad To effort hard I bent, Jess— It was a moving picture. habits is the habit of not having any. Some day the glory I should sniff Of being President. Yet when for alderman I ran, The noble populi All voted for the other man And left me high and dry. “Remember, child, that knowledge ripe Is power everywhere,” Said they. I thought it was a pipe, A cinch beyond compare I studied hard and knowledge gained— For that I've no regret— But for the power I obtained— I’m waiting for it yet! Mayhap ‘twill come, and then again Mayhap it won't come by; But, anyhow, when teaching men Begin to prophecy That some day any child of mine Will be our President If in his studies he shall shine, I'll take those aforesaid teachers off into a dark corner somewhere and tell them straight to their faces that if they ever dare to repeat such pestiferous political Piffle in the presence of my boy again, I will give them something direct from my shoulder that will leave no doubt whatso- ever in their prophetic souls what I think of such drivel, and make them wish that, like the soldiers in Byron’s poem on the battle of Waterloo, they were lying in a : One red burial blent! A PARTIAL ECLIPSE comicbooks.com