Judge, 1915-10-16 · page 11 of 28
Judge — October 16, 1915 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains a romantic comedy narrative (not a political cartoon) satirizing early 20th-century courtship and marriage motives. The story involves multiple couples—Hickbird and Anita Lane, Jennings and Kitty, and the narrator with Lulu Lane—who become engaged in rapid succession near Bridgeport. The satire's point: each person misjudges their partner's true character. Anita falls for Hickbird believing he's a literary intellectual when he's actually a lawyer. The narrator implies Lulu may have married him for his inheritance rather than love. The final caption's joke—"If everybody married for love, think of the money it would keep out of circulation"—suggests marriages are typically financial transactions disguised as romance. The caption at top shows a doctor being asked about a patient's smoking, likely the father of one character, adding domestic comedy.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“Oh, doctor! I do hope you'll let father smoke again soon. sider being surprised when Hickbird said, “What do we care?” in a voice that sounded like an organ chant. Then Jennings said, “Any- and I are engaged!” It didn’t even seem sudden. Hickbird and I congratulated them on the spot, and all the girls were happy—Oh, My! . . . Trudging along the highway beneath the mellow moonlight, Lulu Lane told me how deeply she cared for Literature. My arm was around her waist long before we came to the city lights of Bridgeport. I didn’t give a darn what Hickbird had said about a girl being interested in a man’s career—didn’t even think of it. I thought about the girl. And Proposed marriage about one-half mile from Bridgeport; and was accepted. Such an acceptance! “The years have been waiting for us!” she sobbed. “Lulu—Darling!” “Ah'm never going to be lonely any mo’!” she said, as my arms enfolded her. When we returned to earth, and slowly discerned that we were ‘We simply can’t get a cent out of him!” on the highway, near Bridgeport, Hickbird and Anita Lane, who had originally lingered some distance behind Lulu and me, came into view. Hickbird’s arm was around Anita’: ist, as he clasped her there in the moonlight. Hickbird said, ‘Where are Jennings and Kitty?—Er—anyway—we'll tell you, right now—Anita and I are going to be married!” . . . In the course of the next twenty-four hours a little misunder- standing was cleared up. Anita Lane learned that Hickbird was not a literary man, but a lawyer. She had won his soul (and entirely upset his preconceived notions) by speaking of her perfect love for Literature, in that fatal hour before they became betrothed. . . . I wonder how Anita happened to get us mixed. And I wonder if Lulu Lane knew about my inheritance. Probably—because—oh, well, what’s the use? We're all happy, and going to take the Big Chance. Hickbird doesn’t squeal. And his fiancée appears to be as happy as mine—nearly. If everybody married for love, think of the money it would keep out of circulation. comicbooks.com