Judge, 1917-08-11 · page 8 of 28
Judge — August 11, 1917 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This domestic humor piece satirizes nagging wives and henpecked husbands—a common Judge magazine theme. Mrs. Clatterby berates her husband James for failing to book a lower berth on a Pullman train for an urgent trip to cousin Eva's wedding. She catalogs his incompetence: ignoring her advance warnings, prioritizing fifty cents savings over her comfort, and repeating the mistake from his mother-in-law's visit. The satire targets both parties: James's passivity and penny-pinching stubbornness, but primarily Mrs. Clatterby's relentless, exhausting complaints about the indignity of climbing into an upper berth and undressing publicly. The accompanying illustration shows a train guard and passengers, emphasizing the social embarrassment of her predicament. The joke assumes readers find marital conflict and female shrewishness inherently comedic.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
MUG ON VOR GG AONaY oy VNG Wee. MOLE CN WE MOLE CY WE WEES MONGY BY VHA PGC. MOLE CY VRE BAG MONGV ABA ROONEY BY VAG SAG. OV VAG PARA. MRS. CLATTERBY HAS AN UPPER BERTH By Jock. N upper berth was all that you could get for me? Now you see what comes of putting off things to the last minute. I told you two or three days ago that you had better get my berth, but you declared that travel was so light at this time of the year that not half the berths would be taken. Because there were only seven in the whole Pullman the last time you went to New York is no sign that there will not be more than that on other trains. I told you that—what is that? I save fifty cents by having an upper berth? I'd rather pay a dollar extra and have a lower berth, and what good will the saved fifty cents do me? You will probably think that you have that much more to spend for cigars. It wouldn't surprise me any to know that you got an upper berth when you might have had a lower one just for that purpose! A_ pleasant thing it is for a lady to have to go mounting up a step-ladder and be pushed into an upper berth, now isn’t it? And goodness only knows who has the lower section! I don’t see why it is, James, that youareso unwilling to take the least little bit of advice from me. I told you several days ago that you'd better get my berth for me and you said that at this time of the year— how can I put off going until to-morrow when Cousin Eva’s wedding is to-morrow night and I am going home ex- pressly for it? I can’t delay for even one train and get there in time. I simply have to go to- night and I would Guardsman (from the city)—"Who goes have had a lower *Hoo-0-0-0!" 0-0-0! there?” HARBOUR berth all right if you had done as I told you and gone to the ticket office and—I wish I had gone myself when I was down town yesterday. I thought of it, but I didn’t have money enough with me to get the berth. I never do have a penny more than I need to get what I go down town for and get back home. Often I get back home from down town without a single copper in my purse, and I can tell you that it isa very humiliating feeling and—you know what the feeling is almost every day? Then you ought to be able to appreciate how a woman feels under such conditions and—however, I wouldn’t be any better off now if I had a million dollars in my purse so far as that berth for to-night is concerned, and all because you felt yourself above paying any attention to your wife when it came to taking her advice and refused to get a berth when she told you to do so. It was just the same the last time mamma was here. You didn’t apply for her section in time and never even told us that it was an upper berth until we got to the station and a pleasant thing it was for her, weighing nearly two hundred, to have to climb up into an upper berth and —disrobe there and—one doesn’t have to disrobe in one’s berth? Yes, and it is so pleasant to disrobe in the ladies’ dressing- room and go streaking back to your berth before every one in your bathrobe or dress- ing gown! I always feel like some sort of a dissolute person when (Continued om second page Pallowing) Voice—"Hoo!” “P-pass, F-friend!” comicbooks.com