Judge, 1915-09-25 · page 6 of 28
Judge — September 25, 1915 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page satirizes male hypocrisy and self-deception through two main pieces: **"The Old Man by Walt Mason"** mocks a man who publicly brags about his vigor and strength—boasting he can "whip my weight in snakes"—while privately complaining to his wife about countless ailments: rheumatism, gout, failing hair, toothaches. The satire targets men who perform masculine bravado for public audiences but reveal their actual infirmities at home. His wife remains unmoved by his excuses, pragmatically demanding he fetch coal and kindling. **"A Motor Maid"** is a lighter piece celebrating a young woman's competence and daring as a motorist—a relatively novel phenomenon for the era. Though framed as "unkind" or perhaps unusual (women weren't voters yet), the poem admires her mechanical knowledge, fearlessness, and charm behind the wheel, presenting her as modern and liberated. Both pieces reflect early-20th-century gender anxieties: declining male authority and the emerging independence of women.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
E SAYS, “I'm sixty-five years young, or old, as years are written; I’m sound in mind and limb and lung, and chipper as a kitten. Although my dome of thought is gray, I’m active, strong and sporty; I'm feeling just as young today as when I was but forty.” He stands upon the public sq the peclers peeve him—and shoots that kind of heated air and thinks that folks believe him. “I'm sound and hale, I have no aches you hear the old man clamor, “and I can whip my weight in snakes, or sprint, or throw the hammer.” But when he to h friends won't hear his $ ks for s about his is troubles and dis- His wife, a good and patient soul, rks, “The fire is dwindling, and you had better bring some coal, and split tomorrow’s kindling.” “You know quite well,” the old man sighs, “I’m quite unfit for working; I have the jaundice in my eyes, my nerves with pain are jerking. I ama bent and feeble man, once stout in joust and tourney, and death will soon attach the can tome and end my journey. My legs are spavined at the knees, my backbone hurts and tingles. I have the hoof-and-mouth disease, the mea- sles and the shingles. I have the an- thrax and the gout, and I am weary- hearted; I see my whiskers falling out, and all my hair’s departed. “The years have put me in the hole, my life with sorrow tainting, and yet you say, ‘Bring in some coal,’ when I am nearly fainting. ‘Split up some kindling,’ you exclaim, when all my bones are aching, and every joint throughout my frame is on the point of breaking. I have the headache in my crown, so bad I heard it sizzing, and through my system, up and down, the rheumatiz is whizzing. Along my jaws the toothache jumps, as tirele: asa beaver, I have the whooping cough and mumps, and croup and_ scarlet —unless I'm but an old and ghastly wreck, a choly ruin, and soon I'll cease to tread, by heck, the path I’ve been pursuin’. “You soon will hear the church bells toll in honor of my passing, and yet you say, ‘Bring in some coal, and don’t sit there a-gassing!’ Beneath the sod they soon will lay this body worn and spindling, and yet you lift your voice and say, ‘Fetch in some coal and kindling! Plenty of Covers First Summer Hotel Boarder—1 couldn't st night for the cold. How did you Second Summer Hotel Boarder—Fine. We put the railroad ticket, the hotel folder and the proprictor’s bill on the bed. In Grammar “Now, Jimmie,” said the Teacher, “let us take the verb to be. What is the past of is?” “Was,” said Jimmie. “Very good,” said the Teacher. what is the past of be?” “BUZZ!” roared Jimmie. “And By Way of Apology Mrs. Towe—It’s perfectly scandalous for you to wear a shorter bathing skirt. Miss Unda Towe—But, mamma, I have longer stockings. Has One Friend No man is too ornery to be loved by a dog. A Motor Maid THOUGH she is not a voter, Being under ban and bar, Yet the maid can drive a motor, Almost any motor-car! She can take a curve or comer At a pace to make you reel: A sweet daring danger-scorner Is Belinda at the wheel. She knows every spoke and sprocket; Every tinker's tool she’s tried And she ranges like a rocket Up and down the countryside, “Honk!” her horn resounds, and from it Fast the folk flee, and I feel iding on a comet With Belinda at the wheel is chic and charming; Lamour, she has grace, And although it is alarming How she loves to set the pace, Were the thing for my deciding I would chance it, and with zeal, And through all my life go riding With Belinda at the wheel! Clinton Scollard. Unkind Tired Business Man—Take dancing les sons! Well, 1 guess not! There are too many other ways by which I can make a fool of myself. His Loving i res, dear, but you have tried all of those. Pity the man who is riding a hobby and is thrown on his own resources. GOING THAT WAY Lady—Can you show us the way to Polkville? Tramp—Sure, mum, we're going that way ourselves Jump in, Tom. Anyt'ing to oblige a lady.