Judge, 1920-10-02 · page 7 of 32
Judge — October 2, 1920 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis This page contains a romantic fiction narrative rather than political satire or editorial cartooning. The illustration by John Cosgrove depicts a scene from what appears to be an adventure novel serialized in Judge magazine. The story concerns a narrator (Harold) and a woman named Edith Croyden stranded on a raft at sea. The cartoon caption captures dialogue about their romantic feelings—she claims her love would be "like yonder ocean," he replies it's "low-tide now" (suggesting diminished ardor, likely due to his marriage). The text reveals the narrator's internal conflict: he's falling in love with the mysterious Edith despite being unhappily married for three years. His wife finds him tiresome and wants solitude from him. This represents **serialized romantic fiction**—common Judge content alongside satire. The appeal lay in melodramatic adventure and emotional entanglement rather than political commentary. For modern readers, this shows how magazines like Judge mixed humor with serialized storytelling to maintain readership.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Draven by Jous Cos “You swork YOUR Love WOULD BF “WoL, so “TIsIT's Low-Tipe Now “Tsitas bad as that?” she murmured, her eyes upon the sea In the long day that followed. [ busied myself as much as I could with my work upon the raft so as to leave the girl as far as possible to herself. It was, so I argued, absolutely necessary to let her feel that she was safe in my keeping. Otherwise she might jump off the raft and I should lose her, I sorted out my various cans and tins, tested the oil in my chronometer, arranged in neat order my various ropes and ap paratus and got my frying pan into readiness for any emergency Of food we had for the present no lack With the approach of night I realized that it was necessary to make arrangements for the girl’s comfort. With the aid of a couple of upright poles I stretched a gray blanket across the raft so as to make a complete partition “Miss Croyden,” I said, “this end of the raft is yours. Here you m ping “How kind you are!” the girl murmured. “You will be quite safe from interference,” I added. “I youmy word that I will not obtrude upon you in any sl giv way. “How chivalrous you are,” she said. “Not at all,” L answered, as musically as I could. “ Under stand me, I am now putting my head over this partition for the last time. If there is anything you want say so now.”” “Nothing,” she answered. “There is a candle and matches beside you. If there is any LIKn YONDER ocBAN, IMoceN! thing that you want in the night, call me atany‘hour I shall be here. I promise it.” “Good night,” she murmured. In a few minutes her soft regular breathing told me that she was asleep. I went forward and seated myself on a tar bucket, with my head against the mast, to get what sleep I could. But for some time—why I do not know—sleep would not come. The image of Edith Croyden filled my mind. In vain [ told myself that she was a stranger to me: that—beyond her longi tude—I knew nothing of her. In some strange way this girl had seized hold of me and dominated my senses. The night was very calm and still, with great stars ina velvet sky. In the darkness I could hear the water lapping the edge of the raft. I remained thus in deep thought, sinking further and further into the tar bucket. By the time I reached the bottom of it I realized I was in love with Edith Croyden. Then the thought of my wife occurred to me and perplexed me. Our unhappy marriage had taken place three years before We brought to one another youth, wealth and position. Yet our marriage was a failure. My wife—for what reason I cannot guess—seemed to find my society irksome. In vain [ tried to interest her with narratives of my travels. They scemed—in some way that I could not divine—to fatigue her. ‘Leave me for a little, Harold,” she would say (I forgot to mention that tantly. Remember, comicbooks.com