Judge, 1915-05-01 · page 10 of 24
Judge — May 1, 1915 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains multiple brief satirical pieces typical of Judge magazine's humor: **"Eating Out of His Hand"** depicts a man standing on clouds, seemingly manipulated by a large globe labeled "Earth," satirizing male submission to romantic expectations or societal pressures. **"The Maid for My Heart"** is a sentimental poem listing contradictory ideals—the speaker wants a woman who is mirthful yet tearful, saucy yet true, magical yet practical. The satire mocks men's unrealistic romantic expectations of women. **Other short jokes** target common subjects: clairvoyants defrauding clients ("Conclusive"), wordplay on names ("For Short"), an old man's exaggerated memory of outdated technology ("His Long Reach"), suburban domestic life ("Trials of a Suburbanite"), and stock market losses ("'Twas Ever Thus"). **"An Offering of Love"** (bottom right cartoon) shows a domestic scene, likely illustrating romantic sentiment. The overall page satirizes masculine idealization of women, gullibility, nostalgia, and economic misfortune—typical early-20th-century Judge humor.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
EATING OUT OF HIS HAND The kind of submission the graduate expects. The Maid for My Heart HAVE no taste for the type that is tragical, Nor for the one that's a-flutter with fears; Give me the maid that is mirthful and magical— April a-smile, though she melt into tears! Hair like a halo, the hue of the marigold; Lips like the rose with its petals apart. Though her wealth be but the glamour of fairy gold, She is the maid for my heart! I have no liking for hauteur or haughtiness, Though it be gowned in perfection of fit; Rather a sauciness, rather a naughtiness, Leavened with laughter and tempered with wit! Eyes like the dawn when the May seems a miracle— Hill slope and vale like a blossomy chart— And a low voice like a brook that is lyrical, She is the maid for my heart! I have no use for the maid who is mannish- like, Nor for the one with a face like a psalm; I cannot cotton to one who is clannish-like, Or who discourses on Buddha and Brahm! Give me the one who will never be ‘‘blue’’ to me, Just a dear comrade without any art; So she be winsome, and so she be true to me, She is the maid for my heart! —Clinton Scotland, Conclusive Penelope—M ar cella was in the clairvoyant’s room for two hours. Percival—She must have been having her future told. Penelope—W hy are you so certain of that? Percival—It_ would have taken the clair- voyant two weeks to have told her past. For Short “Howard, several times of Mar- guerite. Who 1s she?" “Why, Peaches, that was my sister’s name."” ‘Howard! Your ter’s namewas Maude. “Yes, Peaches; but we called her Margue- rite for short.’” His Long Reach “I've got the best memory of anybody in this neighborhood!'’ boasted old Uncle Rippy. ‘Why, I'can actually recollect the time when a cabinet organ was regarded as a musical instrument!"* Trials of a Suburbanite Each springtime makes him sick of life, While pulling up the weeds; The chickens cluck to see his wife Now planting flower seeds. Glad To Play a Losing Game “I shrink from the ordeal," she said, but there was triumph in her voice. The lady was dieting and exercising to reduce her flesh, and the scales had just shown that she had sloughed off thirty pounds. At the Free Employment Bureau Clerk—What kind of job are you fitted for? Gink—I could make good as a cook ina raw-food restaurant. ’Twas Ever Thus “*Have you been operating in the stock market of late?"’ **No. I've been operated upon.’ AN OFFERING OF LOVE