Judge, 1920-10-09 · page 7 of 32
Judge — October 9, 1920 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis for Modern Readers This page from *Judge* magazine contains a serialized humorous adventure story titled "What You Find at Your Drug Store When You Present a Hooch Prescription" (visible at bottom). The narrative describes a man and woman stranded on a Caribbean island, written in melodramatic adventure-story style. The story satirizes romantic adventure fiction and male restraint. The protagonist constantly battles passionate impulses toward the woman while maintaining exaggerated politeness—serving her porridge "on the end of a shovel." His bizarre logic (diving into the sea when seeing his name written in sand, fearing her touch) parodies overwrought Victorian romance conventions. The comic strip illustrations on the right offer surreal, non-sequitur vignettes about drugstore items and services, likely mocking patent medicines and the period's dubious pharmaceutical remedies. The title suggests this entire page is satirizing sensational entertainment and consumer culture of the era.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
followed our landing upon the island. I had much to do. Each morning I took our latitude and longitude. By this I then set my watch, cooked porridge, and picked flowers till Miss Croy- den appea With eve new surprise in her radiant beauty. bound a cluster of wild arbutus about her brow. she had twisted a band of convolvulus around her waist. third she had wound herself up in a mat of bulrushes. With her bare feet and wild bulrushes all round her, she looked as a cave woman might have looked, her eyes radiant with the Caribbean dawn. My whole frame thrilled at the sight of her. At times it was all I could do not to tear the bulrushes off her and beat her with heads of them. But I schooled myself to re- straint,and handed her a rock to sit upon and passed her her por- ridge on the end of a shovel with the calm politeness of a friend. Our breakfast over, my more serious labors of the day began. I busied myself with hauling rocks or boulders along the to build us a house against the rainy season. With some from the raft I had made myself a set of harness by means of which I hitched myself to a boulder. By getting Miss Croyden to beat me over the back with a stick day the girl came forth from her habitation as a One morning she had Another day Ona alligator upon the beach, and attaching a string to the fellow’s neck I had led him to our camp. I had then poisoned the fellow with tinned salmon and removed his hide. Our costume was now brought into harmony with our sur roundings. r myself, garbed in goat-skin with the hair out- side, with alligator sandals on my feet and with whiskers at least six inches long, 1 have no doubt that I resembled that beau ideal, a cave man. With the open-air life a new agility seemed to have come into my limbs. With a single leap in my alligator sandals I was enabled to spring into a cocoanut tree. As for Edith Croyden, I can only say that as she stood beside me on the beach in her suit of black goat-skin (she had chosen the black spots) there were times when I felt like seizing her in the frenzy of my passion and hurling her into the sea. Fur always acts on me just like that. It was at the opening of the fifth week of our life upon the island that a new and more surprising turn was given to our adventure. It arose out of a certain curiosity, harmless enough, on Edith Croyden’s part. “Mr. Borus,” she said one morning, ould like so much to see the rest of our island. Can we I found that I made fair progress. But even as I worked thus for our com- mon comfort, my mind was fiercely filled with the thought of Edith Croyden. I knew that if once the barriers broke, everything would be swept away. Heaven alone knows the effort that it cost me. At times nothing but the sternest resolu- tion could hold my fierce impulses in check. Once I came upon the girl writing in the sand with a stick. I looked to sce what she had written. I read my own name “Harold.” With a wild cry, I leapt into the sea and dived to the bot- tom of it. When I came up I was calmer. Edith came towards me; all dripping as I was, she placed her hands upon my shoulders. “How grand you are!” she said. “I am," I answered; then I added “Miss Croyden, for Heaven's sake don’t touch me on the ear. I can’t stand it.” I turned from her and looked out over the sea. Presently I heard something like a groan behind me. The girl had thrown herself on the sand and was coiled up in a hoop. ‘‘Miss Croyden,” I said, ‘for God's sake don’t coil up in a hoop.” I tushed to the beach and rubbed gravel on my face. With such activities, alternated with wild bursts of restraint, our life on the island passed as rapidly as in a dream. Had I not taken care to notch the days upon a stick and then cover the stick with tar, I could not have known the passage of the time. The wearing out of our clothing had threatened a serious diffi- culty. But by good fortune I had seen a large black-and-white goat wandering among the rocks and had chased it to a standstill, From its skin, leaving the fur still on, Edith had fashioned us clothes. [Paes Children’ tinea On the Balcon week ares Sui A free cake of dog soap with stepladaer ds tole Foard Chinopodist Td like & have Some cough medicine on thé” Mezzanine at our. fountain Our boots we had replaced with alligator —Drmen by Dox Hrxoto hide. I had, by a lucky chance, found an Wuat you Fino « T YOUR DRUG STORE WHEN YOU PRESENT A HOOCH PRESCRIPTION 7 comicbooks.com