Judge, 1934-04 · page 12 of 36
Judge — April 1934 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "Mistress Pepys' Journal" - Judge Magazine This is a humorous column mimicking Samuel Pepys' famous 17th-century diary, but set in the early 20th century. The narrator describes mundane domestic activities and social events with mock-serious reflection. The main joke plays on the contrast between Pepys' historically significant observations and this "Mistress Pepys'" trivial concerns: spring cleaning, etiquette rules learned from her grandmother (not sitting on beds while dressing, facial massages in public), and donating items to the Salvation Army. A secondary satire mentions attending a party for E.B. Marks celebrating his songwriting career. The writer reflects that popular songs outlast political achievements—Wilson's "Fourteen Points" and contemporary politician Raymond Moley will be forgotten while 1890s songs like "Daisy Bell" endure. The cartoon panels show slapstick domestic chaos, while the larger illustration depicts a detective losing handcuff keys—unrelated comedic vignettes typical of Judge's mixed-content format.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Mistress Pepys’ Journal By Baird Leonard ARCH 1—My IVE so up betime her some silken underclot 1 Katie's birthday her, giving ut she spite all r reticence forward curiosity hai id a bottle of would not tell me he: my cajolery, and I daresay h was a suitable rebuke to th ness of my inquiries, albeit my on the point is acu the same as w years ago, and might, be thirty-five or sixt So back to bed, where I lay ing some of the things I did learn at my grandmother's knee, such as never to sit down on a bed, or draw on my gloves in the street, or have a facial massage, or put my hands to my head in public, ete., and I am astonished that they have stayed by me more vividly than the catechism which I did learn piecemeal and recite daily, All the day gone in cleaning out my boxes and closets, sending every- thing for which I have no use to the Salvation Army, which no doubt will be bewildered by the receipt of such items a ather fan, ten packs of used playing. care ed evening gowns, a moi ase, etc., but ¢, since she does look came to us eleven aught I know, three out rette ) here a deal of substantial stuff with them, so perhaps I shall be for- given. This night to a party which his publishers did give for E, B. Marks, whose “They All Sang” is a reminiscent record of his forty years in the popular song business I enjoy myself so much in a large gath- ering. Little did I think when I caroled “The Little Lost Child” in my cradle, that I should ever behold the man who wrote it, nor, for that matter, the eighty-six year author of “A Hot Time in the Old Town.” Sat near Katie Spaeth, and we did laugh over our in- vitation’s concession “You don't have to sing unless you want to,” because had there been any rafters, they certainly would have rung. Astonished, too, at the mass of young people who knew all the words to the ditties of the Nineties, a fact which bears out the insouciance of the man who would rather write a nation’s songs than make its laws, for Lord! citizens will be chanting “Da Bell” and “After the Ball” when Wil- son's fourteen points and names like Raymond Moley are naught but the dimmest memories, if that, was nd never in my life did <a Detective—J'Ul bet this is the last time I lose the key to these handcuffs! 10 comicbooks.com