Judge, 1915-12-18 · page 7 of 28
Judge — December 18, 1915 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**Main Illustration:** Two men on skis in a snowy landscape discuss winter's decline. One complains that snow "ain't as much of it" and "don't lay as long" and "ain't even as white as it uster be"—a nostalgic lament about environmental or climate change. The title references the medieval poem "Ballade des Dames du Temps Jadis" (Where are the snows of yesteryear?), suggesting wistful reminiscence. **Embedded Story:** A romantic comedy about a young man (John) attempting courtship with a girl (Sallie) at what appears to be a department store. A child sliding down a display interrupts his awkward proposal attempt, causing him to crash into merchandise. The disruption paradoxically helps him—Sallie reveals her affection while caring for his welfare, and they reconcile. **Bottom Jokes:** "Miss Gigglegum" and "Mrs. Pottson Pans" trade witticisms about Vesuvius versus domestic drudgery—marriage presented as less exciting than volcanic catastrophe. **Overall:** Typical Judge humor mixing mild social observation (climate nostalgia) with light romantic and domestic comedy.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE SNOWS OF YESTER-YEAR "No, you're right—ther’ ain't as much of it, an’ it don’t lay as long—an’ what's more—dang me if it's even as white as it uster be!” away, cluding his direct gaze, and frowned again. Did she really dislike him, he wondered miserably, aware that he was making a mess of things; girls liked wit and savoir faire and all that, while he — “Where can John be?” she mur- mured, after an awkward little silence. John was even then upon his way. From the summit of the polished slide which rose steeply behind Norris, a shrill treble whoop sounded; and a solid little body shot down the incline with terrific velocity, straight against the legs of the surprised young man. After a brief, mad snake dance down the aisle, Norris came to a realizing sense of his position, enthroned upon a floor display of parlor golf and baseball sets, while a floor-walker started for the scene, and several bystanders and salespeople turned to wonder. “That settles it,” he muttered grimly, scrambling up; ‘*who'd have the nerve to make love to a girl after such a ridiculous per- formance? That little imp has queered the whole—” But what was this? Sallie, her serene indifference vanished, frankly disregarding spectators, had rushed to him and, with both hands in his, was de- manding tenderly whether he was hurt! In the big brown eyes could be plainly read a confession which his own best efforts had never coaxed to the surface. Stammeringly, through a rosy mist, he assured her of his safety; then, with a certain awe, he regarded the god from the machine, blinking apprehensively ir the middle dis- tance. “Kid,” he said thoughtfully, “the efficiency experts have nothing on you, though your methods are original. Yes, I forgive you; and now, if Aunt Sallie approves, we'll get that cowboy suit, and go home in my car, by way of the park. And as a special treat, John, you may sit in front with the chauffeur.” No Novelty to Her 4 Miss Gigglegum (single and romantic)—The shower of soot and ashes from Vesuvius must be an awe-inspiring sight. Would you not like to witness it? Mrs. Pottson Pans (married and prosaic)—Oh, I don’t know— I’ve seen my husband take down a stovepipe. comicbooks.com