Judge, 1920-07-03 · page 7 of 36
Judge — July 3, 1920 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis for Modern Readers This page contains a satirical serialized story from Judge magazine, not a political cartoon. The narrative concerns a detective named Ferret investigating a missing woman named Myrtle, whom he finds accidentally hanged in a closet by her dress. The humor relies on absurdist situations and exaggerated descriptions typical of early-20th-century American comedy: a woman surviving hours suspended by a dress hook while pondering Montana's capital; revival via bicycle pump; the groom's shock at marrying someone he believes is Myrtle's mother (though she was named after him 40 years prior). The small illustration by J.K. Barama depicts a parenting/discipline scene unrelated to the main text—apparently a separate comic. The satire targets no specific political figures or events but rather mocks melodramatic detective fiction and romantic complications through absurdist wordplay and visual gags. This represents Judge's entertainment-focused content rather than political commentary.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
PROPOSALS YESTERDAY, ONE THIS MORNING, AND | THINK I’LL HAVE ANOTHER THIS AFTERNOON!” telephone to notify Mr. Jellyjumper. Breaking bad news, however, is almost as disagreeable as breaking a bad egg. The Albinodetective hesitooted . . . Came a strange,sound in the room. (Shakespeare.) It was like the corpse of an old maid pounding on the inside of a coffin—only more so. You know how nervous that always makes one feel. Ferret had goose eggs all up and down his spine. But, brave as Gen. Leonard Wood, he marched to the closet door and threw it open wide. The closet was filled with Myrtle’s gowns. One pale, pink chiffon stirred uneasily on its hook—stirred as if heart-broken. Ferret got out his magnifying glass. a woman with a purple face and almost irresistible wrists. “Are you Myrtle?” he asked, with an appropriate gesture. The pink chiffon moaned. “ Ah, yes!” “So you did not elope?” “Ah, no!” “Then this will be a lesson to you.” When at last she was unhanged, a lady with sad, bilious eyes con- fronted him. Her hair sprawled round her face like spaghetti over a Hamburg steak, but a gleaming gold bicuspid smiled through her tears. She could hardly breathe Inside—was Dron by J. K. Baraxa “Wuv WAS MY LITTLE BOY SO NAUGHTY, wuen I wap company?” “Way, Ma, you ALWays saiD you DIDN'T LIKE THOSE PEOPLE AND WISHED THEY’D NEVER VISIT YOU AGAIN.” till Ferret produced artificial respiration with a bicycle pump. “T was standing on a bandbox,” she confessed, “reaching for that top shelf. I remember I was trying to wonder what was the capital of Montana, when something gave way. That hook caught in the back of my dress like a fly in a hornpout, and I have been hang- ing there on and off—but mainly on—for hours.” Cuapter IV. Marrying Myrtle FTER inserting a few safety pins into Myrtle’s back, Ferret bore her in triumph and a female taxicab to the Goheevian Church where John Jellyjumper anxiously awaited on alternate feet. He wore a rash plaid suit with a deaf- ening necktie. “My gawd!’ exclaimed. the bridegroom upon perceiving the happy woman. “This is not Myrtle! It is Myrtle’s mother!” “Of the same name,” replied the would-be bride. ' “No, not the same. They only sound alike.” “But Myrtle was named after me—” “Yea, after.” verily. Forty years 7