Judge, 1917-08-18 · page 9 of 28
Judge — August 18, 1917 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two unrelated satirical pieces typical of Judge's humor: **"The Collectors"** mocks the 1919 Society of Collectors convention in New York. The satire targets obsessive collecting culture—the article catalogs absurdly rare items (first printed newspaper, 1819 penny, Russian stamp, chip from Moses's stone tablets) before revealing the real punchline: Ole Olaffson's "prize" is a microscopic collection of everyday items (meat, potato, egg-shell) displayed in a gold thimble. The joke: even the most trivial objects become "collectible" to wealthy enthusiasts. **"Their Prospective Reception"** is rural Americana humor. A farmer (Mr. Gap Johnson of Arkansas) explains he forbade his fourteen children from throwing rocks at road travelers—not from kindness, but because a potential horse-trader might pass by. When told surveyors are coming to build a railroad through his farm, the children eagerly resume rock-throwing, viewing the surveyors as obstacles to prevent. It's gentle satire of rural suspicion toward outside development and progress. The fishing dialogue appears unrelated filler.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
XUM “Gents, allow me to introduce ‘Little Sunshine! THE COLLECTORS JX 1919 the Society of Collectors held their first convention in New York. The man who had a copy of the first newspaper ever printed was there; also the man who had the far-famed American penny of 1819; the man with the first Russian stamp ever issued, and, of course, the man who exhibited his prized chip from the stone on which Moses wrote the Ten Commandments. But it can well be imagined what a surprise hit the convention when Ole Olaffson, of Minneapolis, exhibited in his gold thimble, through a high-powered microscope, a bit of meat, an atom of a potato and three molecules of an egg-shell. Benjamin De Casseres. THEIR PROSPECTIVE RECEPTION “ARE them fellers still figgering on surveying a railroad through your place?” inquired an acquaintance. “Well, it ‘pears like they still think they’re going = to,” replied Mr. Gap Johnson, of Rumpus Ridge, Ark., “but I hain’t overly sangwine about their being able to elucidate it. You see, my fourteen children have been sorter peevish of late b’cuz I wouldn’t let ’em throw rocks at people passing by in the bigroad. I p’inted out to ’em that nobody could presizely tell when there might be coming along a gent that was in the mood to swap horses, or something that-a-way, which idee might be plumb put out of his mind if he was knocked down by a rock. The children, being bright kids, seen the focus at once, but they did ’pear to be kinda fretful over the priva- tion. But they perked up right sharply and began to gather rocks when I told ’em about the gang of surveyors that were aiming to invade. the dear old farm.” —Tom P. Morgan. “Caught anything?” “Yes, a red snapper, a whiting, an’ now I'm after a blue fish!” comicbooks.com