Judge, 1929-05-11 · page 11 of 36
Judge — May 11, 1929 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Judge Magazine Page This page contains a satirical serialized story mocking melodramatic Victorian fiction conventions. The narrative follows a banker ("Rasputin of finance") whose daughter's horse is stolen by "gypsy moths," leading to a runaway-horse rescue by an apple-woman named Bridget (or possibly "Rod"). Multiple characters—a financier, various rescuers—each claim credit for saving the banker's daughter, resulting in promises of marriage to multiple people. The satire targets the overwrought plot devices and emotional excess of mid-Victorian literature: runaway horses, last-minute rescues, working-class heroines, grateful wealthy suitors, and improbable coincidences stacked upon each other. The editorial voice dismisses these clichés as ridiculous ("Pastrami"). The lower cartoon appears to show an engineer commenting on mechanical failure, continuing the comedic tone. This is literary satire aimed at contemporary popular fiction's absurd conventions and class-based romantic narratives.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“T don't believe T care for any. thanks.” frowned the Rasputin of finance. “Go call Granule and libido open so he can come in.” Several minutes Jater Granule appeared in the doorway, horse less. “Why, Gran, where is our horse. Favor?” Oh, dad. how can I ever tell you?” sobbed) Granule. “The gypsy moths stole him out of his sinet during the night!” “They had better not go too far!” raged Gildersleeve. “They think they can tread on us, these aristocrats with their mincin, manners and their fi : rants! Fake Bums London! Stonington! Stamford! port! One Hun dred and Twenty-fifth Street!" cried Granule, now thoroughly aroused. “Smash yer baggage. mister?” But a new figure had appeared on the scene. Bridget, the honest old apple-woman whose cart stood near Trinity Church, had leaped to the head of the run- away horse and soon dragged the foaming steed to his feet. “How can I ever repay murmured the fir ave saved my daughter's you, neier, “It was nothing, sir.” replied Rod modestly. “AIL 1 want is your hand in’ marriage.” “But, Rod,” stammered — the banker, blushing from stem to —I thought you were Not he, Squire Rosenhirsch.” hed Frank Castlemon, ap- ing on the poop of the gun boat. “The Johnny Rebs thr ened to string him up, but I in- terceded and saved his life.” then I owe you a double debt,” cried the banker, “and I shall marry both of you ere the wild goose honks in’ the marsh agai And that, gentile reader, is the story of the merger of the PTARMIGAN BR MONTHLY. How Ralph Tread- well recovered the bonds, what a certain pair of laughing blue eyes told him at the rectory, we can leave to your i Our part in the tale is finished. Pastrami. JUDGE jest as I ieuz sayin’ yestiddy, Bill—this » should ‘a’ gone to th’ shop! at the mid-Victorians holding hands!” comicbooks.com