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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10594 ***
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+VOL. 153.
+
+SEPTEMBER 12TH, 1917.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHARIVARIA.
+
+The _Cologne Gazette_ is of the opinion that the American troops, when
+they arrive in France, will be hampered by their ignorance of the
+various languages. But we understand that the Americans can shoot in any
+language.
+
+       ***
+
+A weekly periodical is giving away a bicycle every other week. Meanwhile
+_The Daily Telegraph_ continues to give away a Kaiser every day.
+
+       ***
+
+"I decline to have anything to do with the War," said a Conscientious
+Objector to a North of England magistrate, "and I resent this
+interference with my liberty." Indeed he is said to be so much annoyed
+that he intends sending the War Office a jolly snappy letter about it.
+
+       ***
+
+CHARLIE CHAPLIN says a gossip writer is coming to England in the Autumn.
+This disposes of the suggestion that arrangements were being made for
+England to be taken over to him.
+
+       ***
+
+_Incidentally_ we notice that CHARLIE CHAPLIN has become a naturalised
+American, with, we presume, permission to use the rank of Honorary
+Britisher.
+
+       ***
+
+Before a Northern Tribunal an applicant stated that he was engaged in
+the completion of an invention which would enable dumb people to speak
+or signal with perfection. He was advised, however, to concentrate for a
+while on making certain Germans say "Kamerad."
+
+       ***
+
+An Isle of Wight man has succeeded in growing a vegetable marrow which
+weighs forty-three pounds. To avoid its being mistaken for the island he
+has scratched his name and address on it.
+
+       ***
+
+Those in search of a tactless present will bear in mind that Mr. MARK
+HAMBOURG has written a book entitled "How to Play the Piano."
+
+       ***
+
+The great flagstaff at Kew Gardens, which weighs 18 tons and is 215 feet
+long, is not to be erected until after the War. This has come as a great
+consolation to certain people who had feared the two events would clash.
+
+       ***
+
+In Mid Cheshire there is a scarcity of partridges, but there is plenty
+of other game in Derbyshire. The Mid-Cheshire birds are of the opinion
+that this cannot be too strongly advertised.
+
+       ***
+
+Thirteen years after it was posted at Watford a postcard has just
+reached an Ealing lady inviting her to tea, and of course she rightly
+protested that the tea was cold.
+
+       ***
+
+An estate near Goole has been purchased for £118,000, the purchaser
+having decided not to carry out his first intention of investing that
+amount in a couple of boxes of matches.
+
+       ***
+
+Herr Erzberger is known among his friends as "The Singing Socialist." We
+are afraid however that if he wants peace he will have to whistle for it.
+       ***
+
+The Provisional Government in Russia, according to _The Evening News,_
+has "always regarded an international debate on the questions of war and
+pease as useful." But our Government, not being exactly provisional,
+prefers to go on giving the enemy beans.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: COMFORTING THOUGHT
+
+When there are no taxis on your return from your holidays:
+
+"OUR TRUE STRENGTH IS TO KNOW OUR OWN WEAKNESS."--_CHARLES KINGSLEY_.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE END OF AN EPISODE.
+
+I write this in the beginning of a minor tragedy; if indeed the
+severance of any long, helpful and sympathetic association can ever be
+so lightly named. For that is precisely what our intercourse has been
+these many weeks past; one of nervous and quickly roused irritation on
+my part, of swift and gentle ministration on his.
+
+At least once a day we have met during that period (and occasionally,
+though rarely, more often), usually in those before-breakfast hours when
+the temper of normal man is most exacting and uncertain. But his temper
+never varied; the perfection of it was indeed among his finest
+qualities. Morning after morning, throughout a time that, as it chanced,
+has been full of distress and disappointment, would his soothing and
+infinitely gentle touch recall me to content. That stroking caress of
+his was a thing indescribable; one before which the black shadows left
+by the hours of night seemed literally to dissolve and vanish.
+
+And now the long expected, long dreaded has begun to happen. He, too, is
+turning against me, as so many others of his fellows have done in the
+past. Who knows the reason? What continued roughness on my part has at
+last worn out even him? But for some days now there has been no
+misreading the fatal symptoms--increasing irritability on the one side,
+harshness turning to blunt indifference on the other. And this morning
+came the unforgivable offence, the cut direct.
+
+That settles it; to-morrow, with a still smarting regret, I unwrap a new
+razor-blade.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE WHOLE HOG.
+
+    ["Victorian love-making was at best a sloppy business ... modern
+    maidens have little use for half measures.... Primitive ideas
+    are beginning to assert themselves."--_Daily Paper._]
+
+  Betty, when you were in your teens
+    And shielded from sensation,
+  Despite a lack of ways and means
+  In various appropriate scenes
+    I sighed my adoration.
+  You did not smile upon my suit;
+    Pallid I grew and pensive;
+  My disappointment was acute,
+  Life seemed a worthless thing and mute.
+  I moped, then tuned my laggard lute
+    And launched a new offensive.
+
+  Thus you were wooed in former days
+    When maids were won by waiting;
+  The modern lover finds it pays
+  To imitate the forceful ways
+    Of prehistoric mating.
+  Man is more primitive (a snub
+    Has no effect), so if you
+  Should still refuse a certain "sub."
+  He will not pine or spurn his grub,
+  But, seizing the ancestral club,
+    Into submission biff you.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MAKING THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS.
+
+    "As honorary organist at ---- Wesleyan Church he has established
+    a sound and compact business as wholesale grocer and Italian
+    warehouseman."--_Provincial Paper._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Maid (superior) wanted for lady, gentleman, small flat, strong
+    girl, able to assist lady with rheumatism."--_Glasgow Herald._
+
+If we hear of a small flat girl we will send her along; but this shaped
+figure is rather out of fashion just now.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SUPER-PIPE.
+
+When Jackson first joined the jolly old B.E.F. he smoked a pipe. He
+carried it anyhow. Loose in his pocket, mind you. A pipe-bowl at his
+pocket's brim a simple pipe-bowl was to him, and it was nothing more. Of
+course no decent B.E.F. mess could stand that. Jackson was told that a
+pipe was _anathema maranatha_, which is Greek for _no bon._
+
+"What will I smoke then?" said Jackson, who was no Englishman. We waited
+for the Intelligence Officer to reply. We knew him. The Intelligence
+Officer said nothing. He drew something from his pocket. It was a parcel
+wrapped in cloth-of-gold. He removed the cloth-of-gold and there was
+discovered a casket, which he unlocked with a key attached to his
+identity disc. Inside the casket was a padlocked box, which he opened
+with a key attached by gold wire to his advance pay-book. Inside the box
+was a roll of silk. To cut it all short, he unwound puttee after puttee
+of careful wrapping till he reached a chamois-leather chrysalis, which
+he handled with extreme reverence, and from this he drew something with
+gentle fingers, and set it on the table-cloth before the goggle-eyed
+Jackson.
+
+"A pipe," said Jackson.
+
+There was a shriek of horror. The Intelligence Officer fainted. Here was
+wanton sacrilege.
+
+"Man," said the iron-nerved Bombing Officer, "it's a Brownhill."
+
+"What's a Brownhill?" asked Jackson.
+
+We gasped. How could we begin to tell him of that West End shrine from
+which issue these lacquered symbols of a New Religion?
+
+The Intelligence Officer was reviving. We looked to him.
+
+"The prophet Brownhill," he said, "was once a tobacconist--an ordinary
+tobacconist who sold pipes."
+
+We shuddered.
+
+"He discovered one day that man wants more than mere pipes. He wants
+a--a super-pipe, something to reverence and--er--look after, you know,
+as well as to smoke. So he invented the Brownhill. It is an _affaire de
+coeur_--an affair of art," translated the I.O. proudly. "It is as glossy
+as a chestnut in its native setting, and you can buy furniture polish
+from the prophet Brownhill which will keep it always so. It has its
+year, like a famous vintage, it has a silver wind-pipe, and it costs
+anything up to fifty guineas."
+
+"D'you smoke it'?" asked Jackson, brutally.
+
+We gave him up. In awful silence each of us produced his wrappings and
+his caskets, extracted the shining briar, smeared it with cosmetics, and
+polished it more reverently than a peace time Guardsman polishes his
+buttons when warned for duty next day at "Buck."
+       *       *       *       *       *
+And Jackson smoked his pipe in secret. He would take no leaf from the
+book of the Sassenachs.
+
+And the War went on.
+       *       *       *       *       *
+Jackson went on leave. To his deep disgust he had to wait a few hours in
+London on his way to more civilised parts, and fate led him idling to
+Brownhill's. He flattened his Celtic nose on the window and stared
+fascinated at the array of super-pipes displayed there. After a furtive
+glance along the street he crept into the temple. A white-coated priest
+met him.
+
+"I--I'm wantin'--a--a pipe," said Jackson. He saw the priest reel and
+turn pale to the lips. "I should say a--a Brownhill," he added hastily.
+The other man gulped, steadied himself with an effort, and gave a
+ghastly smile. If you had walked into a temple at Thibet and planked
+down sixpence and asked for an idol wrapped up in brown paper you could
+not have done a more dreadful thing than Jackson had done; but the
+priest forgave him and produced in silence a trayful of Brownhills. Then
+was Jackson like unto ELIA'S little Chinese boy with "the crackling." He
+touched a briar and was converted. He stroked them as though they were
+kittens, bought ten of them, a pound of polish, fifty silver wind-pipes
+and a bale of chamois-leather. The priest took a deep breath.
+
+"You are a full-blooded man, Sir," said he, "if you will excuse me
+saying so, and you should smoke in your new Brownhills a mixture which
+has a proportion of Latakia to Virginian of one to nineteen--a small
+percentage of glycerine and cucumber being added because you have red
+hair, and the whole submitted to a pressure of eighteen hundred
+foot-pounds to the square millimetre, under violet rays. This will be
+known as 'Your Mixture,' Number 56785-6/11, and will be supplied to no
+one else on earth, except under penalty of death.
+
+"I will take a ton," said Jackson with glazing eyes.
+
+This was a man after the priest's own heart. He took another deep breath
+and dived into the strong-room. He returned under the escort of ten
+armed men, each of them chained by the wrist to an iron box, which he
+unlocked with difficulty. Inside the iron box was a thing which Jackson
+a few months ago would have called a pipe. He knew better now. In awful
+silence the priest lifted it from its satin bed. "This," he whispered,
+"was once smoked by Brownhill himself."
+
+Jackson put out a hand to take it. The priest hesitated, then laid it
+gently on his customer's palm.
+
+And Jackson dropped it.
+
+Jackson has never been heard of since.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE FAIRIES HAVE NEVER A PENNY TO SPEND.
+
+  The fairies have never a penny to spend,
+    They haven't a thing put by,
+  But theirs is the dower of bird and of flower,
+    And theirs are the earth and the sky.
+  And though you should live in a palace of gold
+    Or sleep in a dried-up ditch,
+  You could never be poor as the fairies are,
+        And never as rich.
+
+  Since ever and ever the world began
+    They have danced like a ribbon of flame,
+  They have sung their song through the centuries long,
+    And yet it is never the same.
+  And though you be foolish or though you be wise,
+    With hair of silver or gold,
+  You could never be young as the fairies are
+        And never as old.
+
+R. F.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+RARA AVIS.
+
+From a cigarette-card:--
+
+    "REED WARBLER.
+
+    "_Acrocephalus streperus._
+
+    "This bird is found in nearly every part of the British Islands.
+    It builds a nest about a foot off the ground in the reed beds,
+    and is formed of grass, horse hair and sometimes feathers."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From a list of medallists of the new Order of the British Empire:--
+
+    "G. P. Hamlet.--For courage in persisting with dangerous work,
+    with a certainty of suffering from poisoning as a result."
+
+Just like his illustrious namesake.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Melbourne, Friday.
+
+    "The House of Representatives to-day passed the second reading of
+    the War Times Profits Tax Assessment Bill. The tax will be 50
+    per cent. for the year ending June 30, 191161, and 75 per cent.
+    for afterwards.--Reuter."
+
+    _Aberdeen Paper._
+
+Well, well, we need not worry.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "What is being fought out is a long-drawn battle for the
+    important shipping port of Trieste, with the whole of the
+    railway and road communications of the Iberian Peninsula."
+
+    _The People._
+
+Rather a shock for Madrid.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE REVERSE OF THE MEDAL.
+
+OPTIMISTIC GERMAN _(reading paper)._ "THIS IS KOLOSSAL! OUR IRRESISTIBLE
+AIRMEN HAVE AGAIN, FOR THE TWENTIETH TIME, DESTROYED LONDON."
+
+GLOOMY DITTO. "THAT BEING SO, LET'S HOPE THEY'LL STOP THOSE CURSED
+BRITISH AIRMEN FROM BOMBING OUR LINES EVERY DAY AND NIGHT."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STUDY IN SYMMETRY.
+
+The following story, however improbable it may seem to you, is true.
+
+Once upon a time there was an artist with historical leanings not
+unassociated with the desire for pelf--pelf being, even to idealists,
+what petrol is to a car. The blend brought him one day to Portsmouth,
+where the _Victory_ lies, with the honourable purpose of painting a
+picture of that famous ship with NELSON on board. What the ADMIRAL was
+doing I cannot say--most probably dying--but the artist's intention was
+to make the work as attractive as might be and thus draw a little profit
+from the wave of naval enthusiasm which was then passing over the
+country; for not only was the picture itself to be saleable, but
+reproductions were to be made of it.
+
+Permission having been obtained from the authorities, the artist boarded
+the _Victory_, set up his easel on her deck and settled down to his
+task, the monotony of which was pleasantly alleviated by the chatter of
+the old salts who guard the ship and act as guides to the tourists who
+visit her. All of these estimable men not only possessing views on art,
+but having come by now to the firm belief that they had fought with
+NELSON, their criticisms were not too easily combated and the artist
+hadn't a tedious moment. Thus, painting, conversing and learning (as one
+can learn only from a trained imparter of information), three or four
+days passed quickly away and the picture was done.
+
+So far there has been nothing--has there?--to strain credulity. No. But
+a time will come--is, in fact, upon us.
+
+On the evening of the last day, as the artist was sitting at early
+dinner with a friend before catching the London train, his remarks
+turned (as an artist's sometimes will) upon the work upon which he had
+just been engaged. He expressed satisfaction with it in the main, but
+could not, he said, help feeling that its chances of becoming a real
+success would be sensibly increased if he could find as a model for the
+central figure some one whose resemblance to NELSON was noticeable.
+
+"There are, of course," he went on, "at the same time--that is to say,
+among contemporaries--no two faces exactly alike. That is an axiom.
+Strange as it may sound, among all the millions of countenances with two
+eyes, a nose in the middle and a mouth below it, some difference exists
+in each. That is, as I say, among contemporaries: in the world at this
+moment in which I am speaking. But," he continued, warming to his
+subject, for, as you will have already gathered, he was not one of the
+taciturn brush-brotherhood, "after the lapse of years I see no reason
+why nature should not begin precisely to reproduce physiognomies and so
+save herself the trouble of for ever diversifying them. That being
+so--and surely the hypothesis is not too far-fetched"--here his friend
+said, "No, not at all--oh no!"--"why," the artist continued, "should
+there not be at this moment, more than a century later, some one whose
+resemblance to NELSON is exact? He would not be necessarily a naval
+man--probably, indeed, not, for NELSON's face was not characteristic of
+the sea--but whoever he was, even if he were an archbishop, I," said the
+painter firmly, "should not hesitate to go up to him and ask him to sit
+to me."
+
+The friend agreed that this was a very proper attitude and that it
+betokened true sincerity of purpose.
+
+"NELSON's face," the painter continued, "was an uncommon one. So large
+and so mobile a mouth is rare. But I have no doubt that a duplicate
+exists, and no matter who is the owner of it, even were he an
+archbishop, I should not hesitate to go up and ask him to sit to me."
+
+(For the benefit of any feminine reader of this veracious history I
+should say that the repetition which she has just noticed is not an
+accident, but has been carefully set down. It is an attempt to give
+verisimilitude to the conversation--because men always say things like
+that twice.)
+
+The friend again remarked that the painter's resolve did him infinite
+credit, and the two started for the station, still conversing on the
+same theme.
+
+On entering their carriage the first thing to take their attention was a
+quiet little man in black, who was the absolute double of the hero of
+Trafalgar.
+
+"Good gracious!" whispered the painter excitedly, "do you see that?
+There's the very man. The likeness to NELSON is astonishing. I never saw
+anything like it. I don't care who he is, I must tackle him. It's the
+most extraordinary chance that ever occurred."
+
+Assuming his most silky and deferential manner--for, though clearly not
+an archbishop, unless in mufti, this might yet be a person of
+importance--the painter approached the stranger and tendered a card.
+
+"I trust, Sir, that you will excuse me," he began, "for the liberty I am
+taking, but I am an artist and I happen to be engaged on a picture of
+NELSON on the _Victory_. I have all the accessories and so forth, but
+what I very seriously need is a brief sitting from some gentleman with a
+likeness to the great little Admiral. Such, Sir, as yourself. It may be
+news to you--it probably is--but you, Sir, if I may say so, are so like
+the famous and immortal warrior as almost to take one's breath away. It
+is astonishing, wonderful! Might I--would it be--could you--would you,
+Sir, be so very kind as to allow me to paint you? I would, of course,
+make every effort not to inconvenience you--I would arrange so that your
+time should be mine."
+
+"Of course I will, guvnor," said the man. "I'm a professional model and
+I've been sitting for NELSON for years. Why, I've been doing it for an
+artist this very afternoon."
+
+[Illustration: OUR RESTRICTED COAST AMUSEMENTS.
+
+_Vendor_. "ALL THE OFFICIAL 'OLIDAY FUN. FLY THE PATRIOTIC KITES AND
+ANNOY THE GOTHAS!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Physical Drill Instructor (to weak-kneed recruit)_. "NAH
+THEN! IF YOU'RE A-GOING TER JUMP--_JUMP!_"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A LOST LAND.
+
+(To GERMANY.)
+
+  A childhood land of mountain ways,
+  Where earthy gnomes and forest fays,
+  Kind foolish giants, gentle bears,
+  Sport with the peasant as he fares
+  Affrighted through the forest glades,
+  And lead sweet wistful little maids
+  Lost in the woods, forlorn, alone,
+  To princely lovers and a throne.
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  Dear haunted land of gorge and glen,
+  Ah me! the dreams, the dreams of men!
+
+  A learned land of wise old books
+  And men with meditative looks,
+  Who move in quaint red-gabled towns
+  And sit in gravely-folded gowns,
+  Divining in deep-laden speech
+  The world's supreme arcana--each
+  A homely god to listening Youth
+  Eager to tear the veil of Truth;
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  Mild votaries of book and pen--
+  Alas, the dreams, the dreams of men!
+
+  A music land, whose life is wrought
+  In movements of melodious thought;
+  In symphony, great wave on wave--
+  Or fugue, elusive, swift, and grave;
+  A singing land, whose lyric rhymes
+  Float on the air like village chimes:
+  Music and Verse--the deepest part
+  Of a whole nation's thinking heart!
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  Oh land of Now, oh land of Then!
+  Dear God! the dreams, the dreams of men!
+
+  Slave nation in a land of hate,
+  Where are the things that made you great?
+  Child-hearted once--oh, deep defiled,
+  Dare you look now upon a child?
+  Your lore--a hideous mask wherein
+  Self-worship hides its monstrous sin:--
+  Music and verse, divinely wed--
+  How can these live where love is dead?
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  Oh depths beneath sweet human ken,
+  God help the dreams, the dreams of men!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "The Blessington Papers are included with all their atmosphere
+    of distinguished High Bohemia. Among them are some interesting
+    Disraeli letters--he was ever her staunch friend from the early
+    'thirties to the late 'forties, when his son had risen and
+    her's--how brilliant!--had set."--_Saturday Review_.
+
+And up to the present we had been under the impression that both these
+distinguished persons were childless.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HINT FOR HORTICULTURISTS.
+
+    "Mr. ----, undertaker, of Temuka, improved his plant by the
+    purchase of a new hearse."--_Timaru Herald (New Zealand)_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Mr. ---- hopes shortly to be seen again in revue in the Wet
+    End."--_Pall Mall Gazette_.
+
+Or, as the CENSOR would put it, "somewhere in England."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    _Daily Mail_ (Ordinary Edition), 3 September, 1917: "Lord
+    Halsbury is 92 to-day."
+
+    _Times_ (Late War Edition), 3 September, 1917: "The Earl of
+    Halsbury is 94 to-day."
+
+Yet, from personal observation, one would never believe that the EX-LORD
+CHANCELLOR was ageing so rapidly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From "German Official":--
+
+    "With the use of numerous tanks and aeroplanes, flying at a low
+    altitude, the English infantry soon after advanced to the attack
+    on this front."--_Evening Paper_.
+
+Now that the enemy has given away the secret of our new weapon the
+CENSOR might let us know more of our flying Tanks.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Prisoner then seized her round the throat with both hands and
+    hit her on the head with a steel case-opener."--_Daily Paper_.
+
+Which, presumably, he carried in his teeth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SUNFLOWER.
+
+"Have you," said Francesca, "seen our sunflowers lately?"
+
+"Yes," I said, "I've kept an eye on them occasionally. It's a bit
+difficult, by the way, not to see them, isn't it?"
+
+"Well," she said, "perhaps they are rather striking."
+
+"Striking!" I said. "I never heard a more inadequate word. I call them
+simply overwhelming--the steam-rollers of the vegetable world. Look at
+their great yellow open faces."
+
+"I never," said Francesca, "saw a steam-roller with a face. You're
+mixing your metaphors."
+
+"And," I said, "I shall go on mixing them as long as you grow
+sunflowers. It's the very least a man can do by way of protest."
+
+"I don't know why you should want to protest. The seed makes very good
+chicken-food."
+
+"Yes, I know," I said, "that's what you always said."
+
+"And I bet," she said, "you've repeated it. When you've met the tame
+Generals and Colonels at your club, and they've boasted to you about
+their potatoes, I know you've countered them with the story of how
+you've turned the whole of your lawn into a bed of sunflowers calculated
+to drive the most obstinate hen into laying two eggs a day, rain or
+shine."
+
+"I admit," I said, "that I may have mentioned the matter casually, but I
+never thought the things were going to be like this. When I first knew
+them and talked about them they were tender little shoots of green just
+modestly showing above the ground, and now they're a forest primeval.
+The murmuring pines and the hemlock aren't in it with this impenetrable
+jungle liberally blotched with yellow, this so-called sunflower patch."
+
+"What would you call it," she said, "if you didn't call it sunflower?"
+
+"I should call it a beast of prey," I said. "A sunflower seems to me to
+be more like a tiger than anything else."
+
+"It was a steam-roller about a minute ago."
+
+"Yes," I said, "it was--a tigerish steam-roller."
+
+"How interesting," she said. "I have not met one quite like that."
+
+"That," I said, "is because your eye isn't properly poetical. It's
+blocked with chicken-food and other utilitarian objects."
+
+"I must," she said, "consult an oculist. Perhaps he will give me glasses
+which will unblock my eye and make me see tigers in the garden."
+
+"No," I said, "you will have to do it for yourself. For such an eye as
+yours even the best oculists are unavailing."
+
+"I might," she said, "improve if I read poetry at home. Has any poet
+written about sunflowers?"
+
+"Yes," I said, "BLAKE did. He was quite mad, and he wrote a poem to a
+sunflower: 'Ah! Sunflower! Weary of time.' That's how it begins."
+
+"Weary of time!" she said scornfully. "That's no good to me. I'm weary
+of having no time at all to myself."
+
+"That shows," I said, "that you're not a sunflower."
+
+"Thank heaven for that," she said. "It's enough to have four children to
+look after--five including yourself."
+
+"My dear Francesca," I said, "how charming you are to count me as a
+child! I shall really begin to feel as if there were golden threads
+among the silver."
+
+"Tut-tut," she said, "you're not so grey as all that."
+
+"Yes, I am," I said, "quite as grey as all that and much greyer; only we
+don't talk about it."
+
+"But we _do_ talk about sunflowers," she said, "don't we?"
+
+"If you'll promise to have the beastly glaring things dug up--"
+
+"Not," she said, "before we've extracted from them their last pip of
+chicken-food."
+
+"Well, anyhow," I said, "as soon as possible. If you'll promise to do
+that I'll promise never to mention them again."
+
+"But you'll lose your reputation with the Generals and Colonels."
+
+"I don't mind that," I said, "if I can only rid the garden of their
+detested presence."
+
+"My golden-threaded boy," said Francesca, "it shall be as you desire."
+
+R.C.L.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CONSTABLE JINKS.
+
+  Our village policeman is tall and well-grown,
+  He stands six feet two and he weighs sixteen stone;
+  His gait is majestic, his visage serene,
+  And his boots are the biggest that ever I've seen.
+
+  Fame sealed his renown with a definite stamp
+  When two German waiters escaped from a camp.
+  Unaided he captured those runaway Huns
+  Who had lived for a week on three half-penny buns.
+
+  When a derelict porpoise was cast on the shore
+  Our village policeman was much to the fore;
+  He measured the beast from its tip to its tail,
+  And blandly pronounced it "an undersized whale."
+
+  When a small boy was flying his kite on the links
+  It was promptly impounded by Constable Jinks,
+  Who astutely remarked that it might have been seen
+  By the vigilant crew of a Hun submarine.
+
+  It is sometimes alleged that great valour he showed
+  When he chased a mad cow for three miles on the road;
+  But there's also another account of the hunt
+  With a four-legged pursuer, a biped in front.
+
+  If your house has been robbed and his counsel you seek
+  He's sure to look in--in the course of the week,
+  When his massive appearance will comfort your cook,
+  Though he fails in the bringing of culprits to book.
+
+  His _obiter dicta_ on life and the law
+  Set our ribald young folk in a frequent guffaw;
+  But the elders repose an implicit belief
+  In so splendid a product of beer and of beef.
+
+  He's the strongest and solidest man in the place,
+  Nothing--short of mad cattle--can quicken his pace;
+  His moustache would do credit to any dragoon,
+  And his voice is as deep as a double bassoon.
+
+  His complexion is perfect, his uniform neat,
+  He rivets all eyes as he stalks down the street;
+  And I doubt if his critics will ever complain
+  Of his being a little deficient in brain.
+
+  For he's more than a man; he's a part of the map;
+  His going would cause a deplorable gap;
+  And the village would suffer as heavy a slump
+  As it would from the loss of the old parish pump.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A HAPPY JUXTAPOSITION.
+
+    "CHEAPER MATCHES. | FRESH LIGHT ON THE KAISER'S PLOTS."
+
+    _Daily Mirror._
+
+From the report of a Royal investiture:--
+
+    "The first officer to mount the dais was Major ----, who wore
+    the broad-brimmed slouch hat of the Austrian Infantry."
+
+    _North China Daily News._
+
+A souvenir, of course.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SUPPLY AND DEMAND.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Mother (to maid, who has offered Marjorie some jam)._
+"OH NO, THANK YOU, NOT WITH THE _FIRST_ PIECE."
+
+_Marjorie._ "BUT, MUMMY, I HAVE GIVEN UP HAVING A FIRST PIECE NOW--WAR
+ECONOMY."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE TRENCH CODE.
+
+  Ah! with what awe, what infantile impatience,
+    We eyed the artifice when issued out,
+  And racked our brains about the Regulations,
+    And tried to think we had them free from doubt!
+  As Rome's old Fathers, reverently leaning
+    In secret cellars o'er the Sibyl's strain,
+         Beyond the fact that several pars
+         Had something vague to do with Mars,
+  Failed, as a rule, to find the smallest meaning,
+    But told the plebs the oracle was plain.
+
+  So did we study it, ourselves deceiving,
+    In hope to say, "We have no rations here,"
+  Or, "Please, Brigade, this regiment wants relieving,"
+    And "Thank you for the bombs--but why no beer?"
+  And wondered always, with a hint of presage,
+    Since never word emerged as it was planned,
+        If it was Hermes, Lord of Craft,
+        Compiled the code, or someone daft,
+  So that no mortal could compose a message
+    Which anybody else could understand.
+
+  Too soon the Staff, to spoil our tiny slumbers,
+    Or, as they said, to certify our skill,
+  Sent us a screed, all signs and magic numbers,
+    And what it signified is mystery still.
+  We flung them back a message yet more mazy
+    To say we weren't unravelling their own,
+        And marked it _urgent_, and designed
+        That it should reach them while they dined.
+  All night they toiled, till half the crowd were crazy
+    And bade us breathe its burthen o'er the 'phone.
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  But now they want it back--_and it is missing!_
+    And shall one patriot heart withhold a throb?
+  For four high officers have been here, hissing,
+    And plainly panicky about their job.
+  I know they think some dark, deluded bandit
+    Has gone and given it to KAISER BILL.
+        But though I'm grieved the General's cross,
+        I have no qualms about the loss--
+  If clever men like us can't understand it,
+    I don't suppose the Wilhelmstrasse will!
+
+A. P. H.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SPREAD OF THE TEMPERANCE MOVEMENT.
+
+    "I, J.A.H. De la Bere, of Woolsevy Rectory, Morchard Bishop,
+    Devon, desire to Alter my Surname to De la Fontaine."--_Times._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "WANTED
+
+    "end August in Swiss family (2 persons) living in villa near
+    Lausanne
+
+    "NURSERY'S MAID
+
+    "able to saw, iron attend at table and take entire care of
+    healthy baby 19 months old Good English accent serious
+    references." _La Tribune de Lausanne._
+
+We are glad to hear that the baby has a good English accent; he will be
+able to employ it with effect when the Nursery's Maid begins to saw and
+iron him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "In the cases in which the surgeon his obliged to vast empty a
+    bone so that offers then itself difficulties therapeuticals not
+    little because of pus and consequenty becauses of impossibility
+    of transplantations, plastics, plombages ecc., the A. propose to
+    go on the bone with specials inesions, not on the surface when
+    the bone is most superficial, but from the surface in which are
+    aboundings and easily cessible wet tissue, removing the margin
+    of the bone's cavity and mathing in mode as, by cause of
+    repaidis process, this tissue by hemselves adhere to a ground of
+    cavity and full it."--_La Clinica Chirurgica._
+
+That makes it perfectly clear.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: AVANTI, SAVOIA!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A DAUGHTER OF THE BACK STEPPES.
+
+_(Russia may not yet be quite sufficiently herself to be the martial
+ally that we could desire, but she still continues to send us the most
+delightful fiction. Mr. PUNCH is privileged in being able to offer his
+readers the opening of a new and fascinating story translated from the
+Russian of Ghastlilkoff.)_
+
+I was born in the year 18--, and I have never ceased to regret it. I
+lived with my grandmother. She was called Natasha. I do not know why.
+She had a large mole on her left cheek. Often she would embrace me with
+tears and lament over me, crying, "My little sad one, my little lonely
+one!" Yet I was not sad; I had too many griefs. Nor was I lonely, for I
+had no playmates.
+
+Often my grandmother told me I was ugly. I had no mirror, so I believed
+her. When I was sixteen a man I met in the street went mad for love of
+me and cut his throat. For the first time in my life I wondered if my
+grandmother always spoke the truth. I went home and wept, but when she
+asked me why I could not tell her.
+
+Our house was quite dark. It had three rooms leading in and out of one
+another, and no windows. There was not much fresh air. Every morning my
+grandmother went out to buy otchkza and pickled onions. The man who sold
+them was very old. He had a cast in each eye. He inquired of my
+grandmother if she would allow him to be my husband, but she refused.
+His name I do not remember.
+
+Our neighbours were very pleasant people, kindly and simple. There was a
+half-witted youth called Krop. He used to fill his mouth with large
+brass-headed nails. I did not dare to go near him, for he always tried
+to bite my arms. One day I learned that he had died. My grandmother
+bought me black silk mittens to wear at his funeral. I was very proud,
+and ran out into the road to show them to the other children. But in my
+haste I split them across from seam to seam, and my grandmother whipped
+me and put me to bed.
+
+My grandmother's chief friend was a woman who sold toasted cheese. It
+was her custom to bring round the delicacy on a small hand-cart and sell
+to the children for a few kopecks. This woman was reputed to be very
+rich. She was not beautiful, for she had no teeth, and had hair on her
+face. The first time I saw her I ran into the house and hid behind the
+large barrel of butter-milk. My grandmother took me by the ear and led
+me to her friend.
+
+"This is Ilonoka," she said. "She is a good girl."
+
+I remember that I cried very loud.
+
+Afterwards my grandmother told me that perhaps the woman would leave me
+all her money. Next time she came I wished to speak to her, but
+unfortunately I had a quinsy. When the woman eventually died it was
+discovered that she had been destitute for a long time. She left her
+hand-cart by will to my grandmother, and in her disappointment my
+grandmother beat me over the head with it. Soon afterwards my hair began
+to come out, and my grandmother said it was time I found a husband.
+
+Accordingly she went next door, where lived a woman with five sons. They
+were all out except one, and he had a sore leg. She brought him to me,
+and I cried very bitterly. He also. His name was Ivan, and I wished it
+had been Peter.
+
+The next day we were betrothed, and all our friends came to eat the
+feast that my grandmother provided. A school-fellow of mine, a very
+beautiful girl, was angry because I had a husband and not she. She
+scratched my face, and the blood ran on to my dress. Our friends
+congratulated us, and when they had gone my grandmother said it had been
+a great success. She and I finished what was left of the feast and went
+to bed. I remember that my feet were very cold, and when I fell asleep I
+dreamed that my betrothed's name was Peter. When I awoke I cried very
+loud, and my grandmother slapped my cheeks.
+
+Shortly afterwards she died, and I went to live with my uncle, who was a
+pawnbroker in Moscow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LONG-FACED CHUMS.
+
+  When Alexander won the world he knew not bombs nor guns,
+  His simple forms of frightfulness were quite unlike the Huns';
+  'Twas not by barking mortars that the pushful CAESAR scored;
+  He trusted close formations and the silent stabbing sword.
+
+  When ROLAND'S rearguard turned at bay, and from the furious press
+  The scuppered Paladin sent forth his famous S.O.S.,
+  Scared Roncesvalles rang loud with war, as misty legends tell,
+  But echo's ear was spared the shriek and crash of bursting shell.
+
+  So could you meet the shades of those whose prowess made Romance,
+  You'd find them only puzzled by your tales of stunts in France;
+  You'd have to cut the business out, and be content to chat
+  Of rations, grub, and officers--such odds and ends as that,
+
+  Unless you chanced to entertain some true rough-rider's ghost,
+  Who galloped after HANNIBAL, or with the Parthian host,
+  Some curled Assyrian prince who pranced, bareback, along a frieze--
+  Or one of RUPERT'S _beaux sabreurs_--a horseman--whom you please.
+
+  With chosen spirits such as those your talk need never end
+  If you are worthy of your spurs and count a horse your friend.
+  Just ask them "Did you clip trace-high?" or "Did you chaff your hay?"
+  Or boast about the gee you ride, and they'll have lots to say.
+
+  Cut out the talk of battle's din, of whizz-bangs and of crumps,
+  Of bombs and gas and hand-grenades, of mines and blazing dumps;
+  If you would wake their sympathy and warm their hearts indeed
+  Describe a Squadron watering, and then the fuss at "Feed!"
+
+  That lively bustle has a charm to wake a mummy's ear
+  Who, ere the Pyramids were planned, was mustered charioteer;
+  And many a horseman's spirit thrills by Lethe's drowsy brink
+  When in a strange, familiar dream his Troop comes down to drink!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From "The Story of the Haldane Missions":--
+
+    "The Kaiser laughingly remarked that he had better have the high
+    chair (in which the Kaiser usually sat at his council meetings).
+    He also gave Lord Haldane an Imperial cigar.... While discussing
+    the naval question, the Kaiser took a copy of the new Naval Bill
+    out of his pocket and handed it to Lord Haldane, who transferred
+    it to his pocket without looking at it."--_Daily Chronicle._
+
+He probably thought it was another of the Imperial cigars.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Grocer-fiend (who has treated three preceding customers
+to (a) "We ain't got no sugar;" (b) "We have none, Madam;" and (c) "No
+sugar in the shop"--to boy)._ "BE OFF. WE'VE GOT NO SUGAR!"
+
+_Boy._ "I DIDN'T ASK FOR NO SUGAR. I WANT A PENNORTH O' SODA--AN' THAT'S
+TAKEN THE' BLOOMING SWANK OUT OF YOU, AIN'T IT?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STRAIGHT TALK WITH L. G.
+
+_(Everyone has views as to how to win the War, but not all are vocal,
+or--shall we say?--vociferous. If Mr. LLOYD GEORGE reads all the papers
+(as their Editors of course expect him to do) he cannot have missed
+quite a number of powerful articles in the following manner. And even if
+he should miss one or two it would not matter, because there is always
+another in preparation.)_
+
+I've always said that the PREMIER shouldn't be bothered with Parliament.
+Of course I've said too that our old friend Demos, the new god, should
+have a say in affairs; but that's an inconsistency that doesn't count in
+the least, does it?
+
+Now then, Mr. PREMIER, you've got the chance of your lifetime. I always
+said you were a lucky devil--in fact, I never met the Welshman that
+wasn't.
+
+You see, Parliament's in recess, and all its trivial overpaid Members
+are playing golf and things. You've got absolutely a free hand if only
+you'll take it. It's quite easy and bound to succeed. You've only got to
+do as I tell you.
+
+For instance, you want to buck up HAIG and the people at the Front. It's
+no use them telling you they know best, being on the spot. That's only
+bluff, old man. Don't take any notice of them, but just order a big
+general offensive; and before you can say Jack Robinson we'll have the
+Huns behind the Rhine.
+
+And do tell the Navy to get a move on. I'm glad to see my articles have
+made you change the heads at the Admiralty; and of course that's all
+very well so far as it goes. But it doesn't go far enough. _Have a chat
+with BEATTY about it._ Get him to root the Huns out. He can bombard
+Ostend and Zeebrugge and all those funny little places in two-twos. Tell
+KING ALBERT not to mind. We'll easily slap up new towns for him after
+the War, built on the speedy American principle.
+
+Then about that aerial offensive. There's really been quite enough talk
+about it. We want some action, Mr. PREMIER. Isn't it time it came off?
+Think what a bombardment of Cologne (taking care of the cathedral, _of
+course_), Frankfurt, Berlin, Essen and Hamburg would do, not to mention
+other places that I could if I had an atlas.
+
+And about those pacifists. Just clap the whole lot in gaol. That's the
+best place for them. I won't object in the least, even though I am the
+apostle of freedom.
+
+Then there are lots and lots of other things you might do. You might
+deliver a reasoned manifesto to the Russian people and buck them up a
+bit. That won't do anybody any harm, and _it'll be getting on with the
+War_, my little Welshman.
+
+Well, there are a few points for you to go on with. You've got the
+brains to think of more, otherwise I wouldn't have helped to put you
+where you are to-day. But remember that if you _don't_ do these things
+Demos is waiting round the corner for you.
+
+Demos is a good dog--a patient animal. But there's an end even to his
+patience. Growl, Demos, and show you're not afraid of Welshmen!
+
+("Grrr----!" Good dog! Good dog!)
+
+Now then, old boy, I've shown you the way. _It's up to you!_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Another powerful article on these lines will appear next week.
+
+[But not in _Punch_.-ED.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Caller at the office of the Inventions Board._ "'DURING
+WAR PREPARE FOR PEACE'--THAT MUST BE OUR MOTTO! AND MY SPECIAL PATENT
+SHELL-CASE IS THE VERY THING. A SHELL-CASE TO-DAY----AND A BLANC-MANGE
+MOULD TO-MORROW."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE ONLY OTHER TOPIC.
+
+"I shot a marrow into the--I mean I cut a marrow two feet seven inches
+long yesterday," said the man in the corner seat.
+
+"What did it weigh?" we asked anxiously. After two months of them
+potatoes had somewhat palled. We were growing rather tired of marrows,
+but we waited eagerly for his answer,
+
+"Twenty-six pounds nine and three-quarter ounces."
+
+Disappointment again. Our hopes were dashed to the ground. Some obscure
+individual, according to the local press, had produced from his humble
+cottage garden a marrow weighing thirty-four pounds, and the thing
+rankled.
+
+"Mine was a scraggy specimen, more like an Indian club than a marrow."
+
+"Crossed in love, perhaps," said Dalton.
+
+"What your marrow wanted was nourishment," said the Authority. "A piece
+of worsted round its neck, with one end dipped in a jar of water."
+
+"Excuse me," said Jones, "the very latest is to insert a tube in the
+stalk, and the flavour is greatly improved if you add a little sugar to
+the water. Almost like a melon."
+
+"Do you take a card out for each marrow, or one for each plant?" asked
+Dalton.
+
+The quiet man opposite put his paper down. He was a new-comer in the
+district. We liked him, although he had no sense of humour and did not
+appreciate Dalton's jokes. He appeared to be interested only in the
+startling and the odd.
+
+"That reminds me," he said, "of a most extraordinary experience I had a
+few days ago. Of course you all know Enderby?"
+
+None of us knew Enderby, but we I did not like to say so. The quiet
+man's anxiety was painful. We felt he could not go on with his story
+unless someone knew Enderby.
+
+"He has a little place round at the back of the Common--quite a nice
+little place." Freath--that was the quiet man's name--looked at us
+reproachfully.
+
+"I think I know Enderby," said Dalton. "Isn't he a heavily-built man
+about fifty, with a grey moustache?"
+
+"Yes, yes," said Freath eagerly. "And a curious wart on his left cheek.
+Well, I dined with him the other night. His boy was there, home for the
+holidays. Very clever boy; his special study is the biology of plants.
+They gave me a very good dinner; I didn't notice very much what I was
+eating, but I did when the maid helped me to marrow. It was a deep
+crimson colour. I tasted it somewhat nervously, for I felt they were all
+watching me. It had the taste of the most exquisite fruit, and the
+flavour--I am afraid you won't believe me--was that of the finest port
+that I ever drank. 'How did you manage this, Arthur?' said Enderby.
+'Grape-juice,' said Arthur. 'Those foreign black grapes are very cheap
+just now, so I mixed some with the water that I was feeding the marrows
+on.' I can't explain it to you; all I know is that I had a second
+helping. I am afraid you don't believe it," said Freath uneasily.
+
+We assured him that we did, but we did not say it with conviction.
+
+"Enderby called round to see me a few days afterwards," continued
+Freath, "and I walked back with him. As we went along he told me that a
+relative was staying with them--an uncle. The first night, again they
+had marrow for dinner. This time its flavour was not port but
+whisky--Scotch whisky. The old gentleman was delighted with Arthur and
+his experiments. Although an abstainer he had three helpings. This was
+very pleasing to Enderby, as the uncle was a man of considerable wealth.
+But he was not at all satisfied with his son's explanations, and he
+thought he recognised the whisky. Although an abstainer while the War is
+on, Enderby keeps a very good cellar, and when he came to look into
+things he found that Arthur had been pumping his finest '60 port and old
+matured Scotch whisky into the vegetable marrows. Now what do you think
+of that?"
+
+We thought it very strange and we said so.
+
+"But the strangest part has yet to come. Of course they had to keep it
+quiet--bottle it up, so to speak, from the old gentleman, and let the
+marrows down gradually. But when the marrows were once more on a
+temperance _régime_ the most extraordinary thing happened." The train
+was running into Finsbury Park. Freath rose and collected his things.
+
+We stared at him, fascinated.
+
+"Enderby took me into the garden to see it. He said it had been going on
+for the last week. From all directions, rioting across the flower-beds,
+the lawn, down the paths, the marrows were growing towards the
+wine-cellar at the rate of twelve feet a day."
+
+Freath hastily left the carriage and jumped into the Broad Street train.
+
+While we were discussing the story the voice of authority spoke: "The
+whole thing's a tissue of falsehood. There's no such man as Enderby."
+
+"But Dalton knows him," we said.
+
+"I don't know Enderby," said Dalton. "But I wanted to hear the story."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AT THE PLAY.
+
+"THE PACIFISTS."
+
+As a reasonable jusquaboutist I have some misgivings about Mr. HENRY
+ARTHUR JONES'S farce--parable, _The Pacifists_. Assume _Market
+Pewbury's_ afflictions to have been as stated: an intolerable stalwart
+cad of a butcher fencing-in the best part of the common, assaulting
+people's grandmothers, shutting them up in coal-cellars and eating their
+crumpets, kissing their wives in the market square and proposing to
+abduct them to seaside resorts, and none so bold to do him violence and
+make him stop it; the police being ill or absent, the Mayor and his
+friend, chief victim of the butcher's aggression, unwilling on account
+of principles to do anything but talk and get up leagues to deal with
+the trouble in general, and in a final ecstasy of disapproval to write a
+strong letter; only uncle _Belcher_, a truculent old sea-dog with a
+natural lust for whisky and blood, organising an opposition, valiantly
+hiring a notable pugilist to deal with the butcher, and becoming
+desperately anxious lest the matter should be peaceably settled because
+the basher, having been engaged, _must_ find something to bash or there
+will be trouble. Well, if we must have forged for us the sword of a
+three-Act parable, we should like it with one edge, not two.
+
+Mr. JONES was evidently bursting with the desire to give some irritating
+people a very hard knock--witness the barbed dedication with which the
+normally peaceful theatre-announcement columns have bristled some little
+time past; and I think I dare say that we were interested in his first
+Act. He did really work out his analogies with some skill. But we soon
+came to feel that he was essentially doing something between flogging a
+dead horse, so far as we were concerned, and shooting a sitting rabbit.
+I suspect too that we realised the issues were too tragic for this kind
+of buffoonery. The tribute of our applause was a tribute of loyalty to
+one who has often deserved well of the republic, and partly the desire
+to show that our hearts were in the right place. I don't see _The
+Pacifists_ as a pamphlet making many converts. As a kick on the shins it
+has points.
+
+I confess the thing that pleased me most was a gay little piece of
+burlesque by Mr. ARTHUR CHESNEY as the red-haired shop assistant who was
+_not_ a pacifist. Mr. CHARLES GLENNEY so thoroughly enjoyed the
+robustious sea-captain that we had to enjoy it too--a sound notion of
+entertainment, that. Mr. SEBASTIAN SMITH played chief rabbit with
+considerable skill and point; Mr. LENNOX PAWLE amused with his plump
+dundrearyed mayor; Mr. SAM LIVESEY'S offensive was, I am sure, as
+Hunnish as its author could possibly have desired. Miss ELLIS JEFFREYS
+appeared in the first Act as a very plausible imitation of a prominent
+tradesman's wife in an eighth-rate provincial town, with some quite
+excellent moments. But she was evidently labouring under severe strain,
+and I amused myself by speculating how long she would keep out of a
+really well-cut skirt and a sophisticated air of Mayfair. Just an Act.
+And surely she is mistaken in thinking that an effect of extreme
+agitation is best conveyed, by very rapid quasi-cinematographic
+progression up and down the stage? But I saw no reason to complain of
+the bold bad butcher's taste in the matter of a subject for abduction.
+
+T.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Sergeant (to Private Simpkins arriving two days late)._
+"WELL, SIMPKINS, SO YOU'VE TURNED UP, HAVE YOU?"
+
+_Simpkins._ "YES, SERGEANT. BUT YOU ARE LUCKY TO GET ME. WHAT WITH
+DOMESTIC TROUBLE AND ALL THAT DELUGE OF RAIN I NEARLY MADE A SEPARATE
+PEACE."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BUCEPHALUS AND THE ROAD-HOGS.
+
+When Miss Ropes asked at breakfast how many of us would like to watch
+the very last cricket-match of the season at Lumsdale, practically the
+entire hospital held up its hand, and it was found that the two cars
+could not accommodate us all. It was therefore settled that Haynes (who
+said he knew the moves) should drive Ansell and me over in the
+governess-cart.
+
+It was also settled that the crew of the governess-cart should have an
+early cold lunch and start an hour before the cars; thus (it was
+calculated) we should all arrive at the cricket-ground fairly well
+together. This did not take Haynes' driving into account. We started
+from the door at a very satisfactory pace, probably because Bucephalus,
+the fat pony, objected to the enthusiasm of our send-off. When we
+reached the road he dropped into an amble so gentle that we decided that
+he had really been running away in the drive. Next, taking advantage of
+an almost imperceptible upward slope, he began to walk. Haynes clucked
+at him and flapped the reins, but this had no effect beyond steering
+Bucephalus into the left-hand ditch.
+
+"I thought you said you knew the moves," remarked Ansell. "Surely this
+is wrong?"
+
+"The bally beast's lopsided," said Haynes with heat. "One side of his
+mouth's hard and the other soft."
+
+"The difficulty being," I suggested as we lurched across the road into
+the other ditch, "to discover which is which.... Now you're straight.
+We'd better trot. It's only a one-day match."
+
+Haynes used the ancient whip, which had as much effect as tickling a
+rhinoceros with a feather.
+
+"Goad him with a penknife," suggested Ansell unfeelingly.
+
+"There must be some way," said Haynes. "Because they _do_ trot, you
+know."
+
+"Speaking as one ignorant amateur to another," I asked, "isn't the right
+thing to pull gently on the reins and then slacken? You go on doing it
+till the animal gets your meaning. Try it."
+
+Haynes tried it, and Bucephalus stopped dead. Repetition of the
+treatment simply produced a tendency to back.
+
+"For heaven's sake don't lose any of the ground we've gained," said
+Ansell. "Let's get on, if only at a walk."
+
+"We shall have to tow him," decided Haynes. He got out and hauled at the
+bridle, but Bucephalus refused to budge.
+
+"This," said Ansell, becoming suddenly business-like, "is where the Boy
+Hero modestly but firmly takes charge. Jump in."
+
+He picked up the reins and, though he apparently did nothing in
+particular with them, Bucephalus came to life at once and broke into a
+lumbering trot.
+
+"You silly chump, why didn't you say you could drive?" asked Haynes.
+
+"Nobody asked me," said the Boy Hero modestly, "and I was shy."
+
+At the time when we had been scheduled to reach the cricket-ground we
+had still a mile to go along a narrow leafy road, hardly more than a
+lane. The cars were overdue, and Haynes, whose haughty spirit could not
+brook the idea of being passed by jeering plutocrats, propounded a
+scheme.
+
+"They can't pass us unless we go into the ditch," he explained. "So when
+they come we'll pretend to be asleep, take up the middle of the road,
+and simply ignore them. We'll get there first, after all."
+
+A moment later we heard the buzz of engines. I took a hurried glance
+round and saw the sunlight on brasswork as the car came round a distant
+corner.
+
+"It's them," I said.
+
+The reins dropped slackly on Bucephalus's back and he slowed to a walk.
+Inside the governess-cart all was somnolent peace. Behind us the car was
+already beginning to make remarks on one of those abusive
+press-the-button horns. "You FOOL! You FOOL! Get OUT o' the way! Get OUT
+o' the way!" it said. Then we heard the car slow down and pandemonium
+broke loose. The horn was reinforced by an ordinary hooter, a whistle,
+several human voices and, lastly, an exhaust siren. I stole a glance at
+Ansell and found that he was having a good deal of surreptitious trouble
+in restraining our fiery steed from doing a second bolt.
+
+"I say," whispered Haynes in sudden agitation, "_has_ Miss Ropes an
+exhaust siren?"
+
+"No, she hasn't," Ansell replied in tones of horror. "We've held up the
+wrong car." He looked round. "Good Lord!" he added softly and pulled
+Bucephalus into the ditch. In the car, with a grinning Tommy at the
+wheel, sat two apoplectic generals and a highly explosive brigade-major.
+They came alongside, and I should never be allowed to repeat what they
+said to us. It seemed that by delaying them we had been hindering the
+day's work of the entire Home Forces. We were given to understand that
+it was only the blue bands on our arms which saved us from being
+court-martialled on the spot and shot by the grinning Tommy at dawn.
+Then they passed on.
+
+When our cars did appear a minute or two later we pulled meekly into the
+ditch to let them pass, and could find no better answer to the jeers of
+their occupants than a wan sickly smile apiece.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE TEST OF TYPE.
+
+_(Suggested by these adjacent paragraphs in a daily paper.)_
+
+    "Maj. ----. For conspicuous gallantry and resource. He rallied
+    his men when the left flank was seriously threatened, and by his
+    energy and fine example saved the situation. He subsequently
+    commanded his battalion with great ability. He has displayed
+    marked gallantry in every action in which he has taken part."
+
+    "A London angler, Mr. ----, has caught a roach of 2 lb. 1 oz. in
+    the Lark at Barton Mills, the largest fish of its kind landed
+    from this Suffolk stream for some years."
+
+  Though in these times monopolized by Mars
+    There's not a day that passes but one reads--
+  Sandwiched between unprofitable "pars"
+    And other wholly negligible screeds--
+  Of decorations, crosses, medals, bars,
+    Bestowed for valiant and heroic deeds;
+  Over these records we must often pass
+  Unless we've got a magnifying-glass!
+
+  But if some member of a fishing club
+    In London or the provinces, renowned
+  For prowess with the lob-worm or the grub,
+    Should land a roach of more than half a pound,
+  Then in the leading papers of the hub
+    Full space for that achievement will be found,
+  And clearest type and unaffected rapture
+  Will signalize the epoch-making capture!
+
+  The moral of the episode is plain:
+    If soldiers wish to petrify the nation,
+  Let them--when leave permits--no more disdain
+    To join a Roach or Perch Association,
+  Cull giant gooseberries, and strive to gain
+    Prizes for Blind-fold Pig Delineation.
+  Thus only--not by cross or golden stripe--
+  Will they achieve the honour of big type.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: REPRISALS.
+
+_Competitor (in international contest)._ "THE BLIGHTER'S BIT ME."
+
+_Referee._ "WELL, AIN'T YER GOT NO TEETH OF YER OWN? BOX ON."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SHAKSPEARE AND THE WAR.
+
+[Since the entry of the United States all the English-speaking peoples
+are in alliance for freedom.]
+
+  I think our SHAKSPEARE, gone this many a year
+    To some rich haven where the poets throng
+    And Ruler of Ten Cities wrought in song
+  And spired with rhythmic music, high and clear,
+  Still finds his England something close and dear,
+    Rejoicing when her justice baffles wrong
+    And willing her to wrestle and be strong.
+  I think he bides by England and is near.
+
+  And, in the purpose of his Overlord,
+    His weaving spirit, still in cloudless youth
+  With minstrelsy made perfect, throws a cord
+    That rings the continents in its magic reach
+    To gather all who share his English speech
+  In one firm warrior bond of troth and truth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"LET LAWS AND LEARNING..."
+
+    "I should add that Viscount Harberton sees a chance for his own
+    order in the circumstance that, while the poor man's child is
+    driven to school by the inspector, the rich man can 'boot the
+    spy out,' and so confer on his children the priceless boon of
+    complete illiteracy. Shall we live to see a House of Lords that
+    makes its mark?"--_Observer._
+
+Some of them, we believe, are under the impression that they have done
+so already.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)
+
+Unless you can share with me the sad immunity of the forties, I must
+despair of translating for you the emotion raised in my antique soul by
+the wrapper of a new RIDER HAGGARD story bearing the picture of a Zulu
+and the discovery inside that _Quatermain_ is come again! The tale that
+has so excited me is called, a little ominously, _Finished_ (WARD,
+LOCK), and I could have better loved a cheerier title. The matter is, to
+begin with, an affair of a shady doctor, of I.D.B. and an abduction;
+none of it, I admit, any too absorbing. But about halfway through the
+author, as though sharing my own views upon this part of the plot,
+exchanges (so to speak) the Shady for the Black, and transports us all
+to Zululand. And if you need reminding of what H.R.H. can do with that
+delectable country, I can only say I am sorry for you. Incidentally
+there are some stirring scenes from certain pages of history that the
+glare of these later days has rather faded--Isandhlwana and Rorke's
+Drift among them; as well as the human drama of the feud between
+CETEWAYO (terror of my nursery!) and the witch-doctor _Zikali_. Whether
+the old careless rapture is altogether recovered is another matter; at
+least the jolly unpronounceable names are still there, and the
+picturesque speech. Most of the names, that is; _Allan_ of course, and
+others, but I for one should have welcomed rare _Umslopogaas_--or
+however he is rightly spelt--and _Curtis_, for personal reasons my
+favourite of the gallant company that have so often kept secret
+rendezvous with me behind the unlifted lid of a desk at preparation
+time. And now have we really come at long last to _Finished_? I can only
+hope that Sir H. RIDER HAGGARD doesn't mean it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. HUMPHRY WARD may be numbered amongst the most indefatigable of
+women war-workers. She has now followed up her former success in
+_England's Effort_ with a volume carrying on the story of our part in
+the War under the title of _Towards the Goal_ (MURRAY). The book is
+written in the form of a series of letters addressed to ex-President
+ROOSEVELT, as the onlie begetter both of it and its predecessor. It is
+further equipped with a preface by the hand of this same able and
+clear-sighted gentleman, the chief drawback of which (from my reviewing
+point of view) is that it covers so well the whole ground of
+appreciation as to leave me nothing more to add. "Mrs. Ward writes nobly
+on a noble theme"--_voilà tout!_ Her theme, as I have hinted, is a
+further exposition of Britain's war activities as those have developed
+since the former book was published. In its course Mrs. WARD gives us
+some vivid experiences of her own as a visitor to the Western Front:
+things seen and heard, well calculated (were this needed) to stiffen the
+resolution of the great people to whom her letters are really written.
+_England's Effort_ was, I understand, translated into many tongues (with
+results that can hardly fail of being enormously valuable); _Towards the
+Goal_ should certainly receive the same treatment of which it is well
+worthy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. WILLIAM HARBUTT DAWSON, in his _After War Problems_ (ALLEN AND
+UNWIN), covers, under the four headings, Empire and Citizenship, Natural
+Efficiency, Social Reform, and National Finance and Taxation,
+bewilderingly wide ground, and drives a perhaps rather mandarinish team
+of contributors. Lord HALDANE, for instance, is no longer in the real
+van of educational endeavour, and is it wholly insignificant that his
+chapter on Education appears in the section headed National Efficiency
+rather than in that of Social Reform? It ought not to be difficult to
+give, in the light of these last years, a wider interpretation to
+Patriotism than that expressed by Lord MEATH on lines familiar to his
+public. Sir WILLIAM CHANCE has seen no new sign in the skies in relation
+to the problem of poverty. Sir BENJAMIN BROWNE, whose death all those
+interested in the settlement of the Capital-Labour quarrel must deplore,
+as for all his uncompromising individualism he brought to it a rare
+breadth of view, says much that is of real value, but does not refrain
+from appealing to the fact that the mutual confidence of man and officer
+in battle is a proof of the possibility of a similar confidence in the
+workshop. That confidence must, and can, we dare to believe, eventually
+be established. But the men don't go over the top to put money in the
+Colonel's pocket, and little good is done by exploiting these loose
+analogies and putting on a too easy air of optimism in the face of
+desperately serious and complex problems. But enough of fault-finding,
+which is a poor reward for the serious and generous labours of
+public-spirited men and women. After all, what one reader calls timidity
+of outlook another may care to praise as prudence. Here you will find an
+abundance of safe analysis, wise comment and constructive suggestion
+from a galaxy of accredited authorities.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the early chapters of Mr. WILLIAM HEWLETT'S new story, _The
+Plot-Maker_ (DUCKWORTH), we are introduced to a popular and highly
+successful novelist, named _Coulthard Henderson_, in the emotional
+crisis produced by a sudden doubt as to whether his output of
+best-sellers represented anything in the least approaching actuality.
+You will admit a tragic situation. He meets it by the determination that
+his next book shall be a veritable slice of life, and to this end he
+selects and finances an eligible young man for the purpose of
+vicariously experiencing those emotions, from which age and other causes
+debar the chronicler; in other words, he hires a hero. The worst of this
+excellent idea is that it can hardly be said to originate either with
+_Mr. Henderson_ or Mr. HEWLETT, that credit belonging (I fancy) to the
+late HERBERT FLOWERDEW in a too-little-appreciated masterpiece of
+sensational burlesque called _The Realist_. However, _The Plot-Maker_,
+once set going, develops admirably enough on lines entirely its own. The
+so-much-an-hour hero turns out an engaging young gentleman, but a
+wofully poor protagonist. The situation where (in the midst of whirling
+events) he makes the startling discovery that he himself has been in
+some way switched on to the part of villain is one that you can
+appreciate only at first hand. Certainly if you want (as who does not in
+these days?) an anaesthetic of agreeable nonsense _The Plot-Maker_ is a
+medium that I can cordially recommend: one obvious advantage being that
+you need not try to believe a single word of it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF.
+
+From a publisher's list:--
+
+    "Shells as evidence of the Migrations of Early Culture."
+
+And modern Kultur spreads itself in just the same old way.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Lady Required to Share Rome with another."
+
+    _Staffordshire Sentinel_.
+
+But what about the King of ITALY, not to mention the POPE?
+
+
+[Illustration: _Eastern Potentate (rusticating)_. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA, MY
+DEAR FRIEND, HOW SOOTHING IT IS TO ME TO GET AWAY FROM THE LUXURIOUS AND
+ARTIFICIAL LIFE OF THE COURT AND TO SPEND MY WEEK-ENDS IN QUIET
+RETIREMENT HERE IN THE COUNTRY WHERE A FRIEND MAY DROP IN FOR POT LUCK
+AND TAKE US IN THE ROUGH."]
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10594 ***
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+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10594 ***</div>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153,
+Sept. 12, 1917, by Various, Edited by Owen Seamen</h1>
+<br />
+<br />
+<hr class="full" />
+<h1>PUNCH,<br />
+OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1>
+<h2>Vol. 153.</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>September 12th, 1917.</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>[pg
+183]</span>
+<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2>
+<p>The <i>Cologne Gazette</i> is of the opinion that the American
+troops, when they arrive in France, will be hampered by their
+ignorance of the various languages. But we understand that the
+Americans can shoot in any language.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>A weekly periodical is giving away a bicycle every other week.
+Meanwhile <i>The Daily Telegraph</i> continues to give away a
+Kaiser every day.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>"I decline to have anything to do with the War," said a
+Conscientious Objector to a North of England magistrate, "and I
+resent this interference with my liberty." Indeed he is said to be
+so much annoyed that he intends sending the War Office a jolly
+snappy letter about it.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>CHARLIE CHAPLIN says a gossip writer is coming to England in the
+Autumn. This disposes of the suggestion that arrangements were
+being made for England to be taken over to him.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p><i>Incidentally</i> we notice that CHARLIE CHAPLIN has become a
+naturalised American, with, we presume, permission to use the rank
+of Honorary Britisher.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Before a Northern Tribunal an applicant stated that he was
+engaged in the completion of an invention which would enable dumb
+people to speak or signal with perfection. He was advised, however,
+to concentrate for a while on making certain Germans say
+"Kamerad."</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>An Isle of Wight man has succeeded in growing a vegetable marrow
+which weighs forty-three pounds. To avoid its being mistaken for
+the island he has scratched his name and address on it.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Those in search of a tactless present will bear in mind that Mr.
+MARK HAMBOURG has written a book entitled "How to Play the
+Piano."</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>The great flagstaff at Kew Gardens, which weighs 18 tons and is
+215 feet long, is not to be erected until after the War. This has
+come as a great consolation to certain people who had feared the
+two events would clash.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>In Mid Cheshire there is a scarcity of partridges, but there is
+plenty of other game in Derbyshire. The Mid-Cheshire birds are of
+the opinion that this cannot be too strongly advertised.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Thirteen years after it was posted at Watford a postcard has
+just reached an Ealing lady inviting her to tea, and of course she
+rightly protested that the tea was cold.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>An estate near Goole has been purchased for &pound;118,000, the
+purchaser having decided not to carry out his first intention of
+investing that amount in a couple of boxes of matches.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Herr Erzberger is known among his friends as "The Singing
+Socialist." We are afraid however that if he wants peace he will
+have to whistle for it.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>The Provisional Government in Russia, according to <i>The
+Evening News,</i> has "always regarded an international debate on
+the questions of war and pease as useful." But our Government, not
+being exactly provisional, prefers to go on giving the enemy
+beans.</p>
+<hr />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:33%;"><a href=
+"images/183.png"><img width="100%" src="images/183.png" alt=
+"" /></a> COMFORTING THOUGHT<br />
+When there are no taxis on your return from your holidays:<br />
+<p>"OUR TRUE STRENGTH IS TO KNOW OUR OWN
+WEAKNESS."&mdash;<i>CHARLES KINGSLEY.</i></p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>THE END OF AN EPISODE.</h3>
+<p>I write this in the beginning of a minor tragedy; if indeed the
+severance of any long, helpful and sympathetic association can ever
+be so lightly named. For that is precisely what our intercourse has
+been these many weeks past; one of nervous and quickly roused
+irritation on my part, of swift and gentle ministration on his.</p>
+<p>At least once a day we have met during that period (and
+occasionally, though rarely, more often), usually in those
+before-breakfast hours when the temper of normal man is most
+exacting and uncertain. But his temper never varied; the perfection
+of it was indeed among his finest qualities. Morning after morning,
+throughout a time that, as it chanced, has been full of distress
+and disappointment, would his soothing and infinitely gentle touch
+recall me to content. That stroking caress of his was a thing
+indescribable; one before which the black shadows left by the hours
+of night seemed literally to dissolve and vanish.</p>
+<p>And now the long expected, long dreaded has begun to happen. He,
+too, is turning against me, as so many others of his fellows have
+done in the past. Who knows the reason? What continued roughness on
+my part has at last worn out even him? But for some days now there
+has been no misreading the fatal symptoms&mdash;increasing
+irritability on the one side, harshness turning to blunt
+indifference on the other. And this morning came the unforgivable
+offence, the cut direct.</p>
+<p>That settles it; to-morrow, with a still smarting regret, I
+unwrap a new razor-blade.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>THE WHOLE HOG.</h3>
+<blockquote>["Victorian love-making was at best a sloppy business
+... modern maidens have little use for half measures.... Primitive
+ideas are beginning to assert themselves."&mdash;<i>Daily
+Paper.</i>]</blockquote>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Betty, when you were in your teens</p>
+<p class="i2">And shielded from sensation,</p>
+<p>Despite a lack of ways and means</p>
+<p>In various appropriate scenes</p>
+<p class="i2">I sighed my adoration.</p>
+<p>You did not smile upon my suit;</p>
+<p class="i2">Pallid I grew and pensive;</p>
+<p>My disappointment was acute,</p>
+<p>Life seemed a worthless thing and mute.</p>
+<p>I moped, then tuned my laggard lute</p>
+<p class="i2">And launched a new offensive.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Thus you were wooed in former days</p>
+<p class="i2">When maids were won by waiting;</p>
+<p>The modern lover finds it pays</p>
+<p>To imitate the forceful ways</p>
+<p class="i2">Of prehistoric mating.</p>
+<p>Man is more primitive (a snub</p>
+<p class="i2">Has no effect), so if you</p>
+<p>Should still refuse a certain "sub."</p>
+<p>He will not pine or spurn his grub,</p>
+<p>But, seizing the ancestral club,</p>
+<p class="i2">Into submission biff you.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>MAKING THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS.</h3>
+<blockquote>"As honorary organist at &mdash;&mdash; Wesleyan Church
+he has established a sound and compact business as wholesale grocer
+and Italian warehouseman."&mdash;<i>Provincial
+Paper.</i></blockquote>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"Maid (superior) wanted for lady, gentleman, small
+flat, strong girl, able to assist lady with
+rheumatism."&mdash;<i>Glasgow Herald.</i></blockquote>
+<p>If we hear of a small flat girl we will send her along; but this
+shaped figure is rather out of fashion just now.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page184" name="page184"></a>[pg
+184]</span>
+<h2>THE SUPER-PIPE.</h2>
+<p>When Jackson first joined the jolly old B.E.F. he smoked a pipe.
+He carried it anyhow. Loose in his pocket, mind you. A pipe-bowl at
+his pocket's brim a simple pipe-bowl was to him, and it was nothing
+more. Of course no decent B.E.F. mess could stand that. Jackson was
+told that a pipe was <i>anathema maranatha</i>, which is Greek for
+<i>no bon.</i></p>
+<p>"What will I smoke then?" said Jackson, who was no Englishman.
+We waited for the Intelligence Officer to reply. We knew him. The
+Intelligence Officer said nothing. He drew something from his
+pocket. It was a parcel wrapped in cloth-of-gold. He removed the
+cloth-of-gold and there was discovered a casket, which he unlocked
+with a key attached to his identity disc. Inside the casket was a
+padlocked box, which he opened with a key attached by gold wire to
+his advance pay-book. Inside the box was a roll of silk. To cut it
+all short, he unwound puttee after puttee of careful wrapping till
+he reached a chamois-leather chrysalis, which he handled with
+extreme reverence, and from this he drew something with gentle
+fingers, and set it on the table-cloth before the goggle-eyed
+Jackson.</p>
+<p>"A pipe," said Jackson.</p>
+<p>There was a shriek of horror. The Intelligence Officer fainted.
+Here was wanton sacrilege.</p>
+<p>"Man," said the iron-nerved Bombing Officer, "it's a
+Brownhill."</p>
+<p>"What's a Brownhill?" asked Jackson.</p>
+<p>We gasped. How could we begin to tell him of that West End
+shrine from which issue these lacquered symbols of a New
+Religion?</p>
+<p>The Intelligence Officer was reviving. We looked to him.</p>
+<p>"The prophet Brownhill," he said, "was once a
+tobacconist&mdash;an ordinary tobacconist who sold pipes."</p>
+<p>We shuddered.</p>
+<p>"He discovered one day that man wants more than mere pipes. He
+wants a&mdash;a super-pipe, something to reverence
+and&mdash;er&mdash;look after, you know, as well as to smoke. So he
+invented the Brownhill. It is an <i>affaire de coeur</i>&mdash;an
+affair of art," translated the I.O. proudly. "It is as glossy as a
+chestnut in its native setting, and you can buy furniture polish
+from the prophet Brownhill which will keep it always so. It has its
+year, like a famous vintage, it has a silver wind-pipe, and it
+costs anything up to fifty guineas."</p>
+<p>"D'you smoke it'?" asked Jackson, brutally.</p>
+<p>We gave him up. In awful silence each of us produced his
+wrappings and his caskets, extracted the shining briar, smeared it
+with cosmetics, and polished it more reverently than a peace time
+Guardsman polishes his buttons when warned for duty next day at
+"Buck."</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>And Jackson smoked his pipe in secret. He would take no leaf
+from the book of the Sassenachs.</p>
+<p>And the War went on.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Jackson went on leave. To his deep disgust he had to wait a few
+hours in London on his way to more civilised parts, and fate led
+him idling to Brownhill's. He flattened his Celtic nose on the
+window and stared fascinated at the array of super-pipes displayed
+there. After a furtive glance along the street he crept into the
+temple. A white-coated priest met him. &lt;/&gt;</p>
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm wantin'&mdash;a&mdash;a pipe," said Jackson. He saw
+the priest reel and turn pale to the lips. "I should say a&mdash;a
+Brownhill," he added hastily. The other man gulped, steadied
+himself with an effort, and gave a ghastly smile. If you had walked
+into a temple at Thibet and planked down sixpence and asked for an
+idol wrapped up in brown paper you could not have done a more
+dreadful thing than Jackson had done; but the priest forgave him
+and produced in silence a trayful of Brownhills. Then was Jackson
+like unto ELIA'S little Chinese boy with "the crackling." He
+touched a briar and was converted. He stroked them as though they
+were kittens, bought ten of them, a pound of polish, fifty silver
+wind-pipes and a bale of chamois-leather. The priest took a deep
+breath.</p>
+<p>"You are a full-blooded man, Sir," said he, "if you will excuse
+me saying so, and you should smoke in your new Brownhills a mixture
+which has a proportion of Latakia to Virginian of one to
+nineteen&mdash;a small percentage of glycerine and cucumber being
+added because you have red hair, and the whole submitted to a
+pressure of eighteen hundred foot-pounds to the square millimetre,
+under violet rays. This will be known as 'Your Mixture,' Number
+56785-6/11, and will be supplied to no one else on earth, except
+under penalty of death.</p>
+<p>"I will take a ton," said Jackson with glazing eyes.</p>
+<p>This was a man after the priest's own heart. He took another
+deep breath and dived into the strong-room. He returned under the
+escort of ten armed men, each of them chained by the wrist to an
+iron box, which he unlocked with difficulty. Inside the iron box
+was a thing which Jackson a few months ago would have called a
+pipe. He knew better now. In awful silence the priest lifted it
+from its satin bed. "This," he whispered, "was once smoked by
+Brownhill himself."</p>
+<p>Jackson put out a hand to take it. The priest hesitated, then
+laid it gently on his customer's palm.</p>
+<p>And Jackson dropped it.</p>
+<p>Jackson has never been heard of since.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>THE FAIRIES HAVE NEVER A PENNY TO SPEND.</h3>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The fairies have never a penny to spend,</p>
+<p class="i2">They haven't a thing put by,</p>
+<p>But theirs is the dower of bird and of flower,</p>
+<p class="i2">And theirs are the earth and the sky.</p>
+<p>And though you should live in a palace of gold</p>
+<p class="i2">Or sleep in a dried-up ditch,</p>
+<p>You could never be poor as the fairies are,</p>
+<p class="i6">And never as rich.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Since ever and ever the world began</p>
+<p class="i2">They have danced like a ribbon of flame,</p>
+<p>They have sung their song through the centuries long,</p>
+<p class="i2">And yet it is never the same.</p>
+<p>And though you be foolish or though you be wise,</p>
+<p class="i2">With hair of silver or gold,</p>
+<p>You could never be young as the fairies are</p>
+<p class="i6">And never as old.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p>R. F.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>RARA AVIS.</h3>
+<p>From a cigarette-card:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>
+<h5>"REED WARBLER.</h5>
+<h6><i>"Acrocephalus streperus.</i></h6>
+"This bird is found in nearly every part of the British Islands. It
+builds a nest about a foot off the ground in the reed beds, and is
+formed of grass, horse hair and sometimes feathers."</blockquote>
+<hr />
+<p>From a list of medallists of the new Order of the British
+Empire:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>"G. P. Hamlet.&mdash;For courage in persisting with
+dangerous work, with a certainty of suffering from poisoning as a
+result."</blockquote>
+<p>Just like his illustrious namesake.</p>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"Melbourne, Friday.<br />
+<br />
+"The House of Representatives to-day passed the second reading of
+the War Times Profits Tax Assessment Bill. The tax will be 50 per
+cent. for the year ending June 30, 191161, and 75 per cent. for
+afterwards.&mdash;Reuter."<br />
+<br />
+<i>Aberdeen Paper.</i></blockquote>
+<p>Well, well, we need not worry.</p>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"What is being fought out is a long-drawn battle for
+the important shipping port of Trieste, with the whole of the
+railway and road communications of the Iberian Peninsula."<br />
+<i>The People.</i></blockquote>
+<p>Rather a shock for Madrid.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>[pg
+185]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/185.png"><img width="100%" src="images/185.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<h3>THE REVERSE OF THE MEDAL.</h3>
+<p>OPTIMISTIC GERMAN <i>(reading paper).</i> "THIS IS KOLOSSAL! OUR
+IRRESISTIBLE AIRMEN HAVE AGAIN, FOR THE TWENTIETH TIME, DESTROYED
+LONDON."</p>
+<p>GLOOMY DITTO. "THAT BEING SO, LET'S HOPE THEY'LL STOP THOSE
+CURSED BRITISH AIRMEN FROM BOMBING OUR LINES EVERY DAY AND
+NIGHT."</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>[pg
+186]</span>
+<h2>A STUDY IN SYMMETRY.</h2>
+<p>The following story, however improbable it may seem to you, is
+true.</p>
+<p>Once upon a time there was an artist with historical leanings
+not unassociated with the desire for pelf&mdash;pelf being, even to
+idealists, what petrol is to a car. The blend brought him one day
+to Portsmouth, where the <i>Victory</i> lies, with the honourable
+purpose of painting a picture of that famous ship with NELSON on
+board. What the ADMIRAL was doing I cannot say&mdash;most probably
+dying&mdash;but the artist's intention was to make the work as
+attractive as might be and thus draw a little profit from the wave
+of naval enthusiasm which was then passing over the country; for
+not only was the picture itself to be saleable, but reproductions
+were to be made of it.</p>
+<p>Permission having been obtained from the authorities, the artist
+boarded the <i>Victory</i>, set up his easel on her deck and
+settled down to his task, the monotony of which was pleasantly
+alleviated by the chatter of the old salts who guard the ship and
+act as guides to the tourists who visit her. All of these estimable
+men not only possessing views on art, but having come by now to the
+firm belief that they had fought with NELSON, their criticisms were
+not too easily combated and the artist hadn't a tedious moment.
+Thus, painting, conversing and learning (as one can learn only from
+a trained imparter of information), three or four days passed
+quickly away and the picture was done.</p>
+<p>So far there has been nothing&mdash;has there?&mdash;to strain
+credulity. No. But a time will come&mdash;is, in fact, upon us.</p>
+<p>On the evening of the last day, as the artist was sitting at
+early dinner with a friend before catching the London train, his
+remarks turned (as an artist's sometimes will) upon the work upon
+which he had just been engaged. He expressed satisfaction with it
+in the main, but could not, he said, help feeling that its chances
+of becoming a real success would be sensibly increased if he could
+find as a model for the central figure some one whose resemblance
+to NELSON was noticeable.</p>
+<p>"There are, of course," he went on, "at the same time&mdash;that
+is to say, among contemporaries&mdash;no two faces exactly alike.
+That is an axiom. Strange as it may sound, among all the millions
+of countenances with two eyes, a nose in the middle and a mouth
+below it, some difference exists in each. That is, as I say, among
+contemporaries: in the world at this moment in which I am speaking.
+But," he continued, warming to his subject, for, as you will have
+already gathered, he was not one of the taciturn brush-brotherhood,
+"after the lapse of years I see no reason why nature should not
+begin precisely to reproduce physiognomies and so save herself the
+trouble of for ever diversifying them. That being so&mdash;and
+surely the hypothesis is not too far-fetched"&mdash;here his friend
+said, "No, not at all&mdash;oh no!"&mdash;"why," the artist
+continued, "should there not be at this moment, more than a century
+later, some one whose resemblance to NELSON is exact? He would not
+be necessarily a naval man&mdash;probably, indeed, not, for
+NELSON's face was not characteristic of the sea&mdash;but whoever
+he was, even if he were an archbishop, I," said the painter firmly,
+"should not hesitate to go up to him and ask him to sit to me."</p>
+<p>The friend agreed that this was a very proper attitude and that
+it betokened true sincerity of purpose.</p>
+<p>"NELSON's face," the painter continued, "was an uncommon one. So
+large and so mobile a mouth is rare. But I have no doubt that a
+duplicate exists, and no matter who is the owner of it, even were
+he an archbishop, I should not hesitate to go up and ask him to sit
+to me."</p>
+<p>(For the benefit of any feminine reader of this veracious
+history I should say that the repetition which she has just noticed
+is not an accident, but has been carefully set down. It is an
+attempt to give verisimilitude to the conversation&mdash;because
+men always say things like that twice.)</p>
+<p>The friend again remarked that the painter's resolve did him
+infinite credit, and the two started for the station, still
+conversing on the same theme.</p>
+<p>On entering their carriage the first thing to take their
+attention was a quiet little man in black, who was the absolute
+double of the hero of Trafalgar.</p>
+<p>"Good gracious!" whispered the painter excitedly, "do you see
+that? There's the very man. The likeness to NELSON is astonishing.
+I never saw anything like it. I don't care who he is, I must tackle
+him. It's the most extraordinary chance that ever occurred."</p>
+<p>Assuming his most silky and deferential manner&mdash;for, though
+clearly not an archbishop, unless in mufti, this might yet be a
+person of importance&mdash;the painter approached the stranger and
+tendered a card.</p>
+<p>"I trust, Sir, that you will excuse me," he began, "for the
+liberty I am taking, but I am an artist and I happen to be engaged
+on a picture of NELSON on the <i>Victory</i>. I have all the
+accessories and so forth, but what I very seriously need is a brief
+sitting from some gentleman with a likeness to the great little
+Admiral. Such, Sir, as yourself. It may be news to you&mdash;it
+probably is&mdash;but you, Sir, if I may say so, are so like the
+famous and immortal warrior as almost to take one's breath away. It
+is astonishing, wonderful! Might I&mdash;would it be&mdash;could
+you&mdash;would you, Sir, be so very kind as to allow me to paint
+you? I would, of course, make every effort not to inconvenience
+you&mdash;I would arrange so that your time should be mine."</p>
+<p>"Of course I will, guvnor," said the man. "I'm a professional
+model and I've been sitting for NELSON for years. Why, I've been
+doing it for an artist this very afternoon."</p>
+<hr />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href=
+"images/186.png"><img width="100%" src="images/186.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<h3>Our Restricted Coast Amusements.</h3>
+<p><i>Vendor</i>. "ALL THE OFFICIAL 'OLIDAY FUN. FLY THE PATRIOTIC
+KITES AND ANNOY THE GOTHAS!</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>[pg
+187]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/187.png"><img width="100%" src="images/187.png" alt=
+"" /></a> <i>Physical Drill Instructor (to Weak-kneed Recruit)</i>.
+"NAH THEN! IF YOU'RE A-GOING TER JUMP&mdash;<i>JUMP!"</i></div>
+<hr />
+<h3>A LOST LAND.</h3>
+<h5>(TO GERMANY.)</h5>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A childhood land of mountain ways,</p>
+<p>Where earthy gnomes and forest fays,</p>
+<p>Kind foolish giants, gentle bears,</p>
+<p>Sport with the peasant as he fares</p>
+<p>Affrighted through the forest glades,</p>
+<p>And lead sweet wistful little maids</p>
+<p>Lost in the woods, forlorn, alone,</p>
+<p>To princely lovers and a throne.</p>
+<hr class="left" />
+<p>Dear haunted land of gorge and glen,</p>
+<p>Ah me! the dreams, the dreams of men!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A learned land of wise old books</p>
+<p>And men with meditative looks,</p>
+<p>Who move in quaint red-gabled towns</p>
+<p>And sit in gravely-folded gowns,</p>
+<p>Divining in deep-laden speech</p>
+<p>The world's supreme arcana&mdash;each</p>
+<p>A homely god to listening Youth</p>
+<p>Eager to tear the veil of Truth;</p>
+<hr class="left" />
+<p>Mild votaries of book and pen&mdash;</p>
+<p>Alas, the dreams, the dreams of men!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A music land, whose life is wrought</p>
+<p>In movements of melodious thought;</p>
+<p>In symphony, great wave on wave&mdash;</p>
+<p>Or fugue, elusive, swift, and grave;</p>
+<p>A singing land, whose lyric rhymes</p>
+<p>Float on the air like village chimes:</p>
+<p>Music and Verse&mdash;the deepest part</p>
+<p>Of a whole nation's thinking heart!</p>
+<hr class="left" />
+<p>Oh land of Now, oh land of Then!</p>
+<p>Dear God! the dreams, the dreams of men!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Slave nation in a land of hate,</p>
+<p>Where are the things that made you great?</p>
+<p>Child-hearted once&mdash;oh, deep defiled,</p>
+<p>Dare you look now upon a child?</p>
+<p>Your lore&mdash;a hideous mask wherein</p>
+<p>Self-worship hides its monstrous sin:&mdash;</p>
+<p>Music and verse, divinely wed&mdash;</p>
+<p>How can these live where love is dead?</p>
+<hr class="left" />
+<p>Oh depths beneath sweet human ken,</p>
+<p>God help the dreams, the dreams of men!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"The Blessington Papers are included with all their
+atmosphere of distinguished High Bohemia. Among them are some
+interesting Disraeli letters&mdash;he was ever her staunch friend
+from the early 'thirties to the late 'forties, when his son had
+risen and her's&mdash;how brilliant!&mdash;had
+set."&mdash;<i>Saturday Review</i>.</blockquote>
+<p>And up to the present we had been under the impression that both
+these distinguished persons were childless.</p>
+<hr />
+HINT FOR HORTICULTURISTS.
+<blockquote>"Mr. &mdash;&mdash;, undertaker, of Temuka, improved
+his plant by the purchase of a new hearse."&mdash;<i>Timaru Herald
+(New Zealand)</i>.</blockquote>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"Mr. &mdash;&mdash; hopes shortly to be seen again in
+revue in the Wet End."&mdash;<i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>.</blockquote>
+<p>Or, as the CENSOR would put it, "somewhere in England."</p>
+<hr />
+<blockquote><i>Daily Mail</i> (Ordinary Edition), 3 September,
+1917: "Lord Halsbury is 92 to-day."<br />
+<br />
+<i>Times</i> (Late War Edition), 3 September, 1917: "The Earl of
+Halsbury is 94 to-day."</blockquote>
+<p>Yet, from personal observation, one would never believe that the
+EX-LORD CHANCELLOR was ageing so rapidly.</p>
+<hr />
+<p>From "German Official":&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>"With the use of numerous tanks and aeroplanes, flying
+at a low altitude, the English infantry soon after advanced to the
+attack on this front."&mdash;<i>Evening Paper</i>.</blockquote>
+<p>Now that the enemy has given away the secret of our new weapon
+the CENSOR might let us know more of our flying Tanks.</p>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"Prisoner then seized her round the throat with both
+hands and hit her on the head with a steel
+case-opener."&mdash;<i>Daily Paper</i>.</blockquote>
+<p>Which, presumably, he carried in his teeth.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>[pg
+188]</span>
+<h3>THE SUNFLOWER.</h3>
+<p>"Have you," said Francesca, "seen our sunflowers lately?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," I said, "I've kept an eye on them occasionally. It's a
+bit difficult, by the way, not to see them, isn't it?"</p>
+<p>"Well," she said, "perhaps they are rather striking."</p>
+<p>"Striking!" I said. "I never heard a more inadequate word. I
+call them simply overwhelming&mdash;the steam-rollers of the
+vegetable world. Look at their great yellow open faces."</p>
+<p>"I never," said Francesca, "saw a steam-roller with a face.
+You're mixing your metaphors."</p>
+<p>"And," I said, "I shall go on mixing them as long as you grow
+sunflowers. It's the very least a man can do by way of
+protest."</p>
+<p>"I don't know why you should want to protest. The seed makes
+very good chicken-food."</p>
+<p>"Yes, I know," I said, "that's what you always said."</p>
+<p>"And I bet," she said, "you've repeated it. When you've met the
+tame Generals and Colonels at your club, and they've boasted to you
+about their potatoes, I know you've countered them with the story
+of how you've turned the whole of your lawn into a bed of
+sunflowers calculated to drive the most obstinate hen into laying
+two eggs a day, rain or shine."</p>
+<p>"I admit," I said, "that I may have mentioned the matter
+casually, but I never thought the things were going to be like
+this. When I first knew them and talked about them they were tender
+little shoots of green just modestly showing above the ground, and
+now they're a forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlock
+aren't in it with this impenetrable jungle liberally blotched with
+yellow, this so-called sunflower patch."</p>
+<p>"What would you call it," she said, "if you didn't call it
+sunflower?"</p>
+<p>"I should call it a beast of prey," I said. "A sunflower seems
+to me to be more like a tiger than anything else."</p>
+<p>"It was a steam-roller about a minute ago."</p>
+<p>"Yes," I said, "it was&mdash;a tigerish steam-roller."</p>
+<p>"How interesting," she said. "I have not met one quite like
+that."</p>
+<p>"That," I said, "is because your eye isn't properly poetical.
+It's blocked with chicken-food and other utilitarian objects."</p>
+<p>"I must," she said, "consult an oculist. Perhaps he will give me
+glasses which will unblock my eye and make me see tigers in the
+garden."</p>
+<p>"No," I said, "you will have to do it for yourself. For such an
+eye as yours even the best oculists are unavailing."</p>
+<p>"I might," she said, "improve if I read poetry at home. Has any
+poet written about sunflowers?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," I said, "BLAKE did. He was quite mad, and he wrote a poem
+to a sunflower: 'Ah! Sunflower! Weary of time.' That's how it
+begins."</p>
+<p>"Weary of time!" she said scornfully. "That's no good to me. I'm
+weary of having no time at all to myself."</p>
+<p>"That shows," I said, "that you're not a sunflower."</p>
+<p>"Thank heaven for that," she said. "It's enough to have four
+children to look after&mdash;five including yourself."</p>
+<p>"My dear Francesca," I said, "how charming you are to count me
+as a child! I shall really begin to feel as if there were golden
+threads among the silver."</p>
+<p>"Tut-tut," she said, "you're not so grey as all that."</p>
+<p>"Yes, I am," I said, "quite as grey as all that and much greyer;
+only we don't talk about it."</p>
+<p>"But we <i>do</i> talk about sunflowers," she said, "don't
+we?"</p>
+<p>"If you'll promise to have the beastly glaring things dug
+up&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Not," she said, "before we've extracted from them their last
+pip of chicken-food."</p>
+<p>"Well, anyhow," I said, "as soon as possible. If you'll promise
+to do that I'll promise never to mention them again."</p>
+<p>"But you'll lose your reputation with the Generals and
+Colonels."</p>
+<p>"I don't mind that," I said, "if I can only rid the garden of
+their detested presence."</p>
+<p>"My golden-threaded boy," said Francesca, "it shall be as you
+desire."</p>
+<p>R. C. L.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>CONSTABLE JINKS.</h3>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Our village policeman is tall and well-grown,</p>
+<p>He stands six feet two and he weighs sixteen stone;</p>
+<p>His gait is majestic, his visage serene,</p>
+<p>And his boots are the biggest that ever I've seen.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Fame sealed his renown with a definite stamp</p>
+<p>When two German waiters escaped from a camp.</p>
+<p>Unaided he captured those runaway Huns</p>
+<p>Who had lived for a week on three half-penny buns.</p>
+<p>When a derelict porpoise was cast on the shore</p>
+<p>Our village policeman was much to the fore;</p>
+<p>He measured the beast from its tip to its tail,</p>
+<p>And blandly pronounced it "an undersized whale."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When a small boy was flying his kite on the links</p>
+<p>It was promptly impounded by Constable Jinks,</p>
+<p>Who astutely remarked that it might have been seen</p>
+<p>By the vigilant crew of a Hun submarine.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>It is sometimes alleged that great valour he showed</p>
+<p>When he chased a mad cow for three miles on the road;</p>
+<p>But there's also another account of the hunt</p>
+<p>With a four-legged pursuer, a biped in front.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If your house has been robbed and his counsel you seek</p>
+<p>He's sure to look in&mdash;in the course of the week,</p>
+<p>When his massive appearance will comfort your cook,</p>
+<p>Though he fails in the bringing of culprits to book.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>His <i>obiter dicta</i> on life and the law</p>
+<p>Set our ribald young folk in a frequent guffaw;</p>
+<p>But the elders repose an implicit belief</p>
+<p>In so splendid a product of beer and of beef.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He's the strongest and solidest man in the place,</p>
+<p>Nothing&mdash;short of mad cattle&mdash;can quicken his
+pace;</p>
+<p>His moustache would do credit to any dragoon,</p>
+<p>And his voice is as deep as a double bassoon.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>His complexion is perfect, his uniform neat,</p>
+<p>He rivets all eyes as he stalks down the street;</p>
+<p>And I doubt if his critics will ever complain</p>
+<p>Of his being a little deficient in brain.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>For he's more than a man; he's a part of the map;</p>
+<p>His going would cause a deplorable gap;</p>
+<p>And the village would suffer as heavy a slump</p>
+<p>As it would from the loss of the old parish pump.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>A HAPPY JUXTAPOSITION.</h3>
+<blockquote>"CHEAPER MATCHES. | FRESH LIGHT ON THE KAISER'S
+PLOTS."<br />
+<i>Daily Mirror.</i></blockquote>
+<p>From the report of a Royal investiture:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>"The first officer to mount the dais was Major
+&mdash;&mdash;, who wore the broad-brimmed slouch hat of the
+Austrian Infantry."<br />
+<i>North China Daily News.</i></blockquote>
+<p>A souvenir, of course.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>[pg
+189]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/189.png"><img width="100%" src="images/189.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<h3>SUPPLY AND DEMAND.</h3>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>[pg
+190]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/190.png"><img width="100%" src="images/190.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<i>Mother (to maid, who has offered Marjorie some jam).</i> "OH
+NO, THANK YOU, NOT WITH THE <i>FIRST</i> PIECE."<br />
+<i>Marjorie.</i> "BUT, MUMMY, I HAVE GIVEN UP HAVING A FIRST
+PIECE NOW&mdash;WAR ECONOMY."
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>THE TRENCH CODE.</h3>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! with what awe, what infantile impatience,</p>
+<p class="i2">We eyed the artifice when issued out,</p>
+<p>And racked our brains about the Regulations,</p>
+<p class="i2">And tried to think we had them free from doubt!</p>
+<p>As Rome's old Fathers, reverently leaning</p>
+<p class="i2">In secret cellars o'er the Sibyl's strain,</p>
+<p class="i6">Beyond the fact that several pars</p>
+<p class="i6">Had something vague to do with Mars,</p>
+<p>Failed, as a rule, to find the smallest meaning,</p>
+<p class="i2">But told the plebs the oracle was plain.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>So did we study it, ourselves deceiving,</p>
+<p class="i2">In hope to say, "We have no rations here,"</p>
+<p>Or, "Please, Brigade, this regiment wants relieving,"</p>
+<p class="i2">And "Thank you for the bombs&mdash;but why no
+beer?"</p>
+<p>And wondered always, with a hint of presage,</p>
+<p class="i2">Since never word emerged as it was planned,</p>
+<p class="i6">If it was Hermes, Lord of Craft,</p>
+<p class="i6">Compiled the code, or someone daft,</p>
+<p>So that no mortal could compose a message</p>
+<p class="i2">Which anybody else could understand.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Too soon the Staff, to spoil our tiny slumbers,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or, as they said, to certify our skill,</p>
+<p>Sent us a screed, all signs and magic numbers,</p>
+<p class="i2">And what it signified is mystery still.</p>
+<p>We flung them back a message yet more mazy</p>
+<p class="i2">To say we weren't unravelling their own,</p>
+<p class="i6">And marked it <i>urgent</i>, and designed</p>
+<p class="i6">That it should reach them while they dined.</p>
+<p>All night they toiled, till half the crowd were crazy</p>
+<p class="i2">And bade us breathe its burthen o'er the 'phone.</p>
+</div>
+<hr class="left" />
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But now they want it back&mdash;<i>and it is missing!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">And shall one patriot heart withhold a throb?</p>
+<p>For four high officers have been here, hissing,</p>
+<p class="i2">And plainly panicky about their job.</p>
+<p>I know they think some dark, deluded bandit</p>
+<p class="i2">Has gone and given it to KAISER BILL.</p>
+<p class="i6">But though I'm grieved the General's cross,</p>
+<p class="i6">I have no qualms about the loss&mdash;</p>
+<p>If clever men like us can't understand it,</p>
+<p class="i2">I don't suppose the Wilhelmstrasse will!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p>A. P. H.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>SPREAD OF THE TEMPERANCE MOVEMENT.</h3>
+<blockquote>"I, J.A.H. De la Bere, of Woolsevy Rectory, Morchard
+Bishop, Devon, desire to Alter my Surname to De la
+Fontaine."&mdash;<i>Times.</i></blockquote>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>
+<center>"WANTED</center>
+end August in Swiss family (2 persons) living in villa near
+Lausanne
+<center>NURSERY'S MAID</center>
+able to saw, iron attend at table and take entire care of healthy
+baby 19 months old Good English accent serious references." <i>La
+Tribune de Lausanne.</i></blockquote>
+<p>We are glad to hear that the baby has a good English accent; he
+will be able to employ it with effect when the Nursery's Maid
+begins to saw and iron him.</p>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"In the cases in which the surgeon his obliged to vast
+empty a bone so that offers then itself difficulties therapeuticals
+not little because of pus and consequenty becauses of impossibility
+of transplantations, plastics, plombages ecc., the A. propose to go
+on the bone with specials inesions, not on the surface when the
+bone is most superficial, but from the surface in which are
+aboundings and easily cessible wet tissue, removing the margin of
+the bone's cavity and mathing in mode as, by cause of repaidis
+process, this tissue by hemselves adhere to a ground of cavity and
+full it."&mdash;<i>La Clinica Chirurgica.</i></blockquote>
+<p>That makes it perfectly clear.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>[pg
+191]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/191.png"><img width="100%" src="images/191.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<h3>"AVANTI, SAVOIA!"</h3>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>[pg
+192]</span>
+<h2>A DAUGHTER OF THE BACK STEPPES.</h2>
+<blockquote class="note"><i>(Russia may not yet be quite
+sufficiently herself to be the martial ally that we could desire,
+but she still continues to send us the most delightful fiction. Mr.
+PUNCH is privileged in being able to offer his readers the opening
+of a new and fascinating story translated from the Russian of
+Ghastlilkoff.)</i></blockquote>
+<p>I was born in the year 18&mdash;, and I have never ceased to
+regret it. I lived with my grandmother. She was called Natasha. I
+do not know why. She had a large mole on her left cheek. Often she
+would embrace me with tears and lament over me, crying, "My little
+sad one, my little lonely one!" Yet I was not sad; I had too many
+griefs. Nor was I lonely, for I had no playmates.</p>
+<p>Often my grandmother told me I was ugly. I had no mirror, so I
+believed her. When I was sixteen a man I met in the street went mad
+for love of me and cut his throat. For the first time in my life I
+wondered if my grandmother always spoke the truth. I went home and
+wept, but when she asked me why I could not tell her.</p>
+<p>Our house was quite dark. It had three rooms leading in and out
+of one another, and no windows. There was not much fresh air. Every
+morning my grandmother went out to buy otchkza and pickled onions.
+The man who sold them was very old. He had a cast in each eye. He
+inquired of my grandmother if she would allow him to be my husband,
+but she refused. His name I do not remember.</p>
+<p>Our neighbours were very pleasant people, kindly and simple.
+There was a half-witted youth called Krop. He used to fill his
+mouth with large brass-headed nails. I did not dare to go near him,
+for he always tried to bite my arms. One day I learned that he had
+died. My grandmother bought me black silk mittens to wear at his
+funeral. I was very proud, and ran out into the road to show them
+to the other children. But in my haste I split them across from
+seam to seam, and my grandmother whipped me and put me to bed.</p>
+<p>My grandmother's chief friend was a woman who sold toasted
+cheese. It was her custom to bring round the delicacy on a small
+hand-cart and sell to the children for a few kopecks. This woman
+was reputed to be very rich. She was not beautiful, for she had no
+teeth, and had hair on her face. The first time I saw her I ran
+into the house and hid behind the large barrel of butter-milk. My
+grandmother took me by the ear and led me to her friend.</p>
+<p>"This is Ilonoka," she said. "She is a good girl."</p>
+<p>I remember that I cried very loud.</p>
+<p>Afterwards my grandmother told me that perhaps the woman would
+leave me all her money. Next time she came I wished to speak to
+her, but unfortunately I had a quinsy. When the woman eventually
+died it was discovered that she had been destitute for a long time.
+She left her hand-cart by will to my grandmother, and in her
+disappointment my grandmother beat me over the head with it. Soon
+afterwards my hair began to come out, and my grandmother said it
+was time I found a husband.</p>
+<p>Accordingly she went next door, where lived a woman with five
+sons. They were all out except one, and he had a sore leg. She
+brought him to me, and I cried very bitterly. He also. His name was
+Ivan, and I wished it had been Peter.</p>
+<p>The next day we were betrothed, and all our friends came to eat
+the feast that my grandmother provided. A school-fellow of mine, a
+very beautiful girl, was angry because I had a husband and not she.
+She scratched my face, and the blood ran on to my dress. Our
+friends congratulated us, and when they had gone my grandmother
+said it had been a great success. She and I finished what was left
+of the feast and went to bed. I remember that my feet were very
+cold, and when I fell asleep I dreamed that my betrothed's name was
+Peter. When I awoke I cried very loud, and my grandmother slapped
+my cheeks.</p>
+<p>Shortly afterwards she died, and I went to live with my uncle,
+who was a pawnbroker in Moscow.</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>THE LONG-FACED CHUMS.</h2>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">When Alexander won the world he knew not bombs
+nor guns,<br />
+<br />
+<p>His simple forms of frightfulness were quite unlike the
+Huns';</p>
+<p>'Twas not by barking mortars that the pushful CAESAR scored;</p>
+<p>He trusted close formations and the silent stabbing sword.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When ROLAND'S rearguard turned at bay, and from the furious
+press</p>
+<p>The scuppered Paladin sent forth his famous S.O.S.,</p>
+<p>Scared Roncesvalles rang loud with war, as misty legends
+tell,</p>
+<p>But echo's ear was spared the shriek and crash of bursting
+shell.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>So could you meet the shades of those whose prowess made
+Romance,</p>
+<p>You'd find them only puzzled by your tales of stunts in
+France;</p>
+<p>You'd have to cut the business out, and be content to chat</p>
+<p>Of rations, grub, and officers&mdash;such odds and ends as
+that,</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Unless you chanced to entertain some true rough-rider's
+ghost,</p>
+<p>Who galloped after HANNIBAL, or with the Parthian host,</p>
+<p>Some curled Assyrian prince who pranced, bareback, along a
+frieze&mdash;</p>
+<p>Or one of RUPERT'S <i>beaux sabreurs</i>&mdash;a
+horseman&mdash;whom you please.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>With chosen spirits such as those your talk need never end</p>
+<p>If you are worthy of your spurs and count a horse your
+friend.</p>
+<p>Just ask them "Did you clip trace-high?" or "Did you chaff your
+hay?"</p>
+<p>Or boast about the gee you ride, and they'll have lots to
+say.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Cut out the talk of battle's din, of whizz-bangs and of
+crumps,</p>
+<p>Of bombs and gas and hand-grenades, of mines and blazing
+dumps;</p>
+<p>If you would wake their sympathy and warm their hearts
+indeed</p>
+<p>Describe a Squadron watering, and then the fuss at "Feed!"</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>That lively bustle has a charm to wake a mummy's ear</p>
+<p>Who, ere the Pyramids were planned, was mustered charioteer;</p>
+<p>And many a horseman's spirit thrills by Lethe's drowsy brink</p>
+<p>When in a strange, familiar dream his Troop comes down to
+drink!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<p>From "The Story of the Haldane Missions":&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>"The Kaiser laughingly remarked that he had better have
+the high chair (in which the Kaiser usually sat at his council
+meetings). He also gave Lord Haldane an Imperial cigar.... While
+discussing the naval question, the Kaiser took a copy of the new
+Naval Bill out of his pocket and handed it to Lord Haldane, who
+transferred it to his pocket without looking at it."&mdash;<i>Daily
+Chronicle.</i></blockquote>
+<p>He probably thought it was another of the Imperial cigars.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" id="page193"></a>[pg
+193]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/193.png"><img width="100%" src="images/193.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<p>Grocer-fiend (who has treated three preceding customers to (a)
+"We ain't got no sugar;" (b) "We have none, Madam;" and (c) "No
+sugar in the shop'&mdash;to boy). "BE OFF. WE'VE GOT NO SUGAR!"</p>
+<p><i>Boy.</i> "I DIDN'T ASK FOR NO SUGAR. I WANT A PENNORTH O'
+SODA&mdash;AN' THAT'S TAKEN THE' BLOOMING SWANK OUT OF YOU, AIN'T
+IT?"</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>A STRAIGHT TALK WITH L. G.</h3>
+<blockquote class="note"><i>(Everyone has views as to how to win
+the War, but not all are vocal, or&mdash;shall we
+say?&mdash;vociferous. If Mr. LLOYD GEORGE reads all the papers (as
+their Editors of course expect him to do) he cannot have missed
+quite a number of powerful articles in the following manner. And
+even if he should miss one or two it would not matter, because
+there is always another in preparation.)</i></blockquote>
+<p>I've always said that the PREMIER shouldn't be bothered with
+Parliament. Of course I've said too that our old friend Demos, the
+new god, should have a say in affairs; but that's an inconsistency
+that doesn't count in the least, does it?</p>
+<p>Now then, Mr. PREMIER, you've got the chance of your lifetime. I
+always said you were a lucky devil&mdash;in fact, I never met the
+Welshman that wasn't.</p>
+<p>You see, Parliament's in recess, and all its trivial overpaid
+Members are playing golf and things. You've got absolutely a free
+hand if only you'll take it. It's quite easy and bound to succeed.
+You've only got to do as I tell you.</p>
+<p>For instance, you want to buck up HAIG and the people at the
+Front. It's no use them telling you they know best, being on the
+spot. That's only bluff, old man. Don't take any notice of them,
+but just order a big general offensive; and before you can say Jack
+Robinson we'll have the Huns behind the Rhine.</p>
+<p>And do tell the Navy to get a move on. I'm glad to see my
+articles have made you change the heads at the Admiralty; and of
+course that's all very well so far as it goes. But it doesn't go
+far enough. <i>Have a chat with BEATTY about it.</i> Get him to
+root the Huns out. He can bombard Ostend and Zeebrugge and all
+those funny little places in two-twos. Tell KING ALBERT not to
+mind. We'll easily slap up new towns for him after the War, built
+on the speedy American principle.</p>
+<p>Then about that aerial offensive. There's really been quite
+enough talk about it. We want some action, Mr. PREMIER. Isn't it
+time it came off? Think what a bombardment of Cologne (taking care
+of the cathedral, <i>of course</i>), Frankfurt, Berlin, Essen and
+Hamburg would do, not to mention other places that I could if I had
+an atlas.</p>
+<p>And about those pacifists. Just clap the whole lot in gaol.
+That's the best place for them. I won't object in the least, even
+though I am the apostle of freedom.</p>
+<p>Then there are lots and lots of other things you might do. You
+might deliver a reasoned manifesto to the Russian people and buck
+them up a bit. That won't do anybody any harm, and <i>it'll be
+getting on with the War</i>, my little Welshman.</p>
+<p>Well, there are a few points for you to go on with. You've got
+the brains to think of more, otherwise I wouldn't have helped to
+put you where you are to-day. But remember that if you <i>don't</i>
+do these things Demos is waiting round the corner for you.</p>
+<p>Demos is a good dog&mdash;a patient animal. But there's an end
+even to his patience. Growl, Demos, and show you're not afraid of
+Welshmen!</p>
+<p>("Grrr&mdash;&mdash;!" Good dog! Good dog!)</p>
+<p>Now then, old boy, I've shown you the way. <i>It's up to
+you!</i></p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<blockquote>Another powerful article on these lines will appear
+next week.<br />
+[But not in <i>Punch</i>.-ED.]</blockquote>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>[pg
+194]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/194.png"><img width="100%" src="images/194.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<table width="100%" summary="">
+<tr>
+<th width="50%"><i>Caller at the Office of The Inventions
+Board.</i> "'DURING WAR PREPARE FOR PEACE'&mdash;THAT MUST BE OUR
+MOTTO! AND MY SPECIAL PATENT SHELL-CASE IS THE VERY THING. A
+SHELL-CASE TO-DAY&mdash;&mdash;</th>
+<th width="50%">&mdash;&mdash;AND A BLANC-MANGE MOULD
+TO-MORROW."</th>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h2>THE ONLY OTHER TOPIC.</h2>
+<p>"I shot a marrow into the&mdash;I mean I cut a marrow two feet
+seven inches long yesterday," said the man in the corner seat.</p>
+<p>"What did it weigh?" we asked anxiously. After two months of
+them potatoes had somewhat palled. We were growing rather tired of
+marrows, but we waited eagerly for his answer,</p>
+<p>"Twenty-six pounds nine and three-quarter ounces."</p>
+<p>Disappointment again. Our hopes were dashed to the ground. Some
+obscure individual, according to the local press, had produced from
+his humble cottage garden a marrow weighing thirty-four pounds, and
+the thing rankled.</p>
+<p>"Mine was a scraggy specimen, more like an Indian club than a
+marrow."</p>
+<p>"Crossed in love, perhaps," said Dalton.</p>
+<p>"What your marrow wanted was nourishment," said the Authority.
+"A piece of worsted round its neck, with one end dipped in a jar of
+water."</p>
+<p>"Excuse me," said Jones, "the very latest is to insert a tube in
+the stalk, and the flavour is greatly improved if you add a little
+sugar to the water. Almost like a melon."</p>
+<p>"Do you take a card out for each marrow, or one for each plant?"
+asked Dalton.</p>
+<p>The quiet man opposite put his paper down. He was a new-comer in
+the district. We liked him, although he had no sense of humour and
+did not appreciate Dalton's jokes. He appeared to be interested
+only in the startling and the odd.</p>
+<p>"That reminds me," he said, "of a most extraordinary experience
+I had a few days ago. Of course you all know Enderby?"</p>
+<p>None of us knew Enderby, but we I did not like to say so. The
+quiet man's anxiety was painful. We felt he could not go on with
+his story unless someone knew Enderby.</p>
+<p>"He has a little place round at the back of the
+Common&mdash;quite a nice little place." Freath&mdash;that was the
+quiet man's name&mdash;looked at us reproachfully.</p>
+<p>"I think I know Enderby," said Dalton. "Isn't he a heavily-built
+man about fifty, with a grey moustache?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes," said Freath eagerly. "And a curious wart on his left
+cheek. Well, I dined with him the other night. His boy was there,
+home for the holidays. Very clever boy; his special study is the
+biology of plants. They gave me a very good dinner; I didn't notice
+very much what I was eating, but I did when the maid helped me to
+marrow. It was a deep crimson colour. I tasted it somewhat
+nervously, for I felt they were all watching me. It had the taste
+of the most exquisite fruit, and the flavour&mdash;I am afraid you
+won't believe me&mdash;was that of the finest port that I ever
+drank. 'How did you manage this, Arthur?' said Enderby.
+'Grape-juice,' said Arthur. 'Those foreign black grapes are very
+cheap just now, so I mixed some with the water that I was feeding
+the marrows on.' I can't explain it to you; all I know is that I
+had a second helping. I am afraid you don't believe it," said
+Freath uneasily.</p>
+<p>We assured him that we did, but we did not say it with
+conviction.</p>
+<p>"Enderby called round to see me a few days afterwards,"
+continued Freath, "and I walked back with him. As we went along he
+told me that a relative was staying with them&mdash;an uncle. The
+first night, again they had marrow for dinner. This time its
+flavour was not port but whisky&mdash;Scotch whisky. The old
+gentleman was delighted with Arthur and his experiments. Although
+an abstainer he had three helpings. This was very pleasing to
+Enderby, as the uncle was a man of considerable wealth. But he was
+not at all satisfied with his son's explanations, and he thought he
+recognised the whisky. Although an abstainer while the War is on,
+Enderby keeps a very good cellar, and when he came to look into
+things he found that Arthur had been pumping his finest '60 port
+and old matured Scotch whisky into the vegetable marrows. Now what
+do you think of that?"</p>
+<p>We thought it very strange and we said so.</p>
+<p>"But the strangest part has yet to come. Of course they had to
+keep it quiet&mdash;bottle it up, so to speak, from the old
+gentleman, and let the marrows down gradually. But when the marrows
+were once more on a temperance <i>r&eacute;gime</i> the most
+extraordinary thing happened." The train was running into Finsbury
+Park. Freath rose and collected his things.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>[pg
+195]</span>
+<p>We stared at him, fascinated.</p>
+<p>"Enderby took me into the garden to see it. He said it had been
+going on for the last week. From all directions, rioting across the
+flower-beds, the lawn, down the paths, the marrows were growing
+towards the wine-cellar at the rate of twelve feet a day."</p>
+<p>Freath hastily left the carriage and jumped into the Broad
+Street train.</p>
+<p>While we were discussing the story the voice of authority spoke:
+"The whole thing's a tissue of falsehood. There's no such man as
+Enderby."</p>
+<p>"But Dalton knows him," we said.</p>
+<p>"I don't know Enderby," said Dalton. "But I wanted to hear the
+story."</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2>
+<h5>"THE PACIFISTS."</h5>
+<p>As a reasonable jusquaboutist I have some misgivings about Mr.
+HENRY ARTHUR JONES'S farce&mdash;parable, <i>The Pacifists</i>.
+Assume <i>Market Pewbury's</i> afflictions to have been as stated:
+an intolerable stalwart cad of a butcher fencing-in the best part
+of the common, assaulting people's grandmothers, shutting them up
+in coal-cellars and eating their crumpets, kissing their wives in
+the market square and proposing to abduct them to seaside resorts,
+and none so bold to do him violence and make him stop it; the
+police being ill or absent, the Mayor and his friend, chief victim
+of the butcher's aggression, unwilling on account of principles to
+do anything but talk and get up leagues to deal with the trouble in
+general, and in a final ecstasy of disapproval to write a strong
+letter; only uncle <i>Belcher</i>, a truculent old sea-dog with a
+natural lust for whisky and blood, organising an opposition,
+valiantly hiring a notable pugilist to deal with the butcher, and
+becoming desperately anxious lest the matter should be peaceably
+settled because the basher, having been engaged, <i>must</i> find
+something to bash or there will be trouble. Well, if we must have
+forged for us the sword of a three-Act parable, we should like it
+with one edge, not two.</p>
+<p>Mr. JONES was evidently bursting with the desire to give some
+irritating people a very hard knock&mdash;witness the barbed
+dedication with which the normally peaceful theatre-announcement
+columns have bristled some little time past; and I think I dare say
+that we were interested in his first Act. He did really work out
+his analogies with some skill. But we soon came to feel that he was
+essentially doing something between flogging a dead horse, so far
+as we were concerned, and shooting a sitting rabbit. I suspect too
+that we realised the issues were too tragic for this kind of
+buffoonery. The tribute of our applause was a tribute of loyalty to
+one who has often deserved well of the republic, and partly the
+desire to show that our hearts were in the right place. I don't see
+<i>The Pacifists</i> as a pamphlet making many converts. As a kick
+on the shins it has points.</p>
+<p>I confess the thing that pleased me most was a gay little piece
+of burlesque by Mr. ARTHUR CHESNEY as the red-haired shop assistant
+who was <i>not</i> a pacifist. Mr. CHARLES GLENNEY so thoroughly
+enjoyed the robustious sea-captain that we had to enjoy it
+too&mdash;a sound notion of entertainment, that. Mr. SEBASTIAN
+SMITH played chief rabbit with considerable skill and point; Mr.
+LENNOX PAWLE amused with his plump dundrearyed mayor; Mr. SAM
+LIVESEY'S offensive was, I am sure, as Hunnish as its author could
+possibly have desired. Miss ELLIS JEFFREYS appeared in the first
+Act as a very plausible imitation of a prominent tradesman's wife
+in an eighth-rate provincial town, with some quite excellent
+moments. But she was evidently labouring under severe strain, and I
+amused myself by speculating how long she would keep out of a
+really well-cut skirt and a sophisticated air of Mayfair. Just an
+Act. And surely she is mistaken in thinking that an effect of
+extreme agitation is best conveyed, by very rapid
+quasi-cinematographic progression up and down the stage? But I saw
+no reason to complain of the bold bad butcher's taste in the matter
+of a subject for abduction.</p>
+<p>T.</p>
+<hr />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href=
+"images/195.png"><img width="100%" src="images/195.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<p><i>Sergeant (to Private Simpkins arriving two days late).</i>
+WELL, SIMPKINS, SO YOU'VE TURNED UP, HAVE YOU?"</p>
+<p><i>Simpkins.</i> "YES, SERGEANT. BUT YOU ARE LUCKY TO GET ME.
+WHAT WITH DOMESTIC TROUBLE AND ALL THAT DELUGE OF RAIN I NEARLY
+MADE A SEPARATE PEACE."</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>[pg
+196]</span>
+<h2>BUCEPHALUS AND THE ROAD-HOGS.</h2>
+<p>When Miss Ropes asked at breakfast how many of us would like to
+watch the very last cricket-match of the season at Lumsdale,
+practically the entire hospital held up its hand, and it was found
+that the two cars could not accommodate us all. It was therefore
+settled that Haynes (who said he knew the moves) should drive
+Ansell and me over in the governess-cart.</p>
+<p>It was also settled that the crew of the governess-cart should
+have an early cold lunch and start an hour before the cars; thus
+(it was calculated) we should all arrive at the cricket-ground
+fairly well together. This did not take Haynes' driving into
+account. We started from the door at a very satisfactory pace,
+probably because Bucephalus, the fat pony, objected to the
+enthusiasm of our send-off. When we reached the road he dropped
+into an amble so gentle that we decided that he had really been
+running away in the drive. Next, taking advantage of an almost
+imperceptible upward slope, he began to walk. Haynes clucked at him
+and flapped the reins, but this had no effect beyond steering
+Bucephalus into the left-hand ditch.</p>
+<p>"I thought you said you knew the moves," remarked Ansell.
+"Surely this is wrong?"</p>
+<p>"The bally beast's lopsided," said Haynes with heat. "One side
+of his mouth's hard and the other soft."</p>
+<p>"The difficulty being," I suggested as we lurched across the
+road into the other ditch, "to discover which is which.... Now
+you're straight. We'd better trot. It's only a one-day match."</p>
+<p>Haynes used the ancient whip, which had as much effect as
+tickling a rhinoceros with a feather.</p>
+<p>"Goad him with a penknife," suggested Ansell unfeelingly.</p>
+<p>"There must be some way," said Haynes. "Because they <i>do</i>
+trot, you know."</p>
+<p>"Speaking as one ignorant amateur to another," I asked, "isn't
+the right thing to pull gently on the reins and then slacken? You
+go on doing it till the animal gets your meaning. Try it."</p>
+<p>Haynes tried it, and Bucephalus stopped dead. Repetition of the
+treatment simply produced a tendency to back.</p>
+<p>"For heaven's sake don't lose any of the ground we've gained,"
+said Ansell. "Let's get on, if only at a walk."</p>
+<p>"We shall have to tow him," decided Haynes. He got out and
+hauled at the bridle, but Bucephalus refused to budge.</p>
+<p>"This," said Ansell, becoming suddenly business-like, "is where
+the Boy Hero modestly but firmly takes charge. Jump in."</p>
+<p>He picked up the reins and, though he apparently did nothing in
+particular with them, Bucephalus came to life at once and broke
+into a lumbering trot.</p>
+<p>"You silly chump, why didn't you say you could drive?" asked
+Haynes.</p>
+<p>"Nobody asked me," said the Boy Hero modestly, "and I was
+shy."</p>
+<p>At the time when we had been scheduled to reach the
+cricket-ground we had still a mile to go along a narrow leafy road,
+hardly more than a lane. The cars were overdue, and Haynes, whose
+haughty spirit could not brook the idea of being passed by jeering
+plutocrats, propounded a scheme.</p>
+<p>"They can't pass us unless we go into the ditch," he explained.
+"So when they come we'll pretend to be asleep, take up the middle
+of the road, and simply ignore them. We'll get there first, after
+all."</p>
+<p>A moment later we heard the buzz of engines. I took a hurried
+glance round and saw the sunlight on brasswork as the car came
+round a distant corner.</p>
+<p>"It's them," I said.</p>
+<p>The reins dropped slackly on Bucephalus's back and he slowed to
+a walk. Inside the governess-cart all was somnolent peace. Behind
+us the car was already beginning to make remarks on one of those
+abusive press-the-button horns. "You FOOL! You FOOL! Get OUT o' the
+way! Get OUT o' the way!" it said. Then we heard the car slow down
+and pandemonium broke loose. The horn was reinforced by an ordinary
+hooter, a whistle, several human voices and, lastly, an exhaust
+siren. I stole a glance at Ansell and found that he was having a
+good deal of surreptitious trouble in restraining our fiery steed
+from doing a second bolt.</p>
+<p>"I say," whispered Haynes in sudden agitation, "<i>has</i> Miss
+Ropes an exhaust siren?"</p>
+<p>"No, she hasn't," Ansell replied in tones of horror. "We've held
+up the wrong car." He looked round. "Good Lord!" he added softly
+and pulled Bucephalus into the ditch. In the car, with a grinning
+Tommy at the wheel, sat two apoplectic generals and a highly
+explosive brigade-major. They came alongside, and I should never be
+allowed to repeat what they said to us. It seemed that by delaying
+them we had been hindering the day's work of the entire Home
+Forces. We were given to understand that it was only the blue bands
+on our arms which saved us from being court-martialled on the spot
+and shot by the grinning Tommy at dawn. Then they passed on.</p>
+<p>When our cars did appear a minute or two later we pulled meekly
+into the ditch to let them pass, and could find no better answer to
+the jeers of their occupants than a wan sickly smile apiece.</p>
+<hr />
+<h4>THE TEST OF TYPE.</h4>
+<blockquote class="note"><i>(Suggested by these adjacent paragraphs
+in a daily paper.)</i></blockquote>
+<blockquote>"Maj. &mdash;&mdash;. For conspicuous gallantry and
+resource. He rallied his men when the left flank was seriously
+threatened, and by his energy and fine example saved the situation.
+He subsequently commanded his battalion with great ability. He has
+displayed marked gallantry in every action in which he has taken
+part."</blockquote>
+<blockquote>"A London angler, Mr. &mdash;&mdash;, has caught a
+roach of 2 lb. 1 oz. in the Lark at Barton Mills, the largest fish
+of its kind landed from this Suffolk stream for some
+years."</blockquote>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Though in these times monopolized by Mars</p>
+<p class="i2">There's not a day that passes but one
+reads&mdash;</p>
+<p>Sandwiched between unprofitable "pars"</p>
+<p class="i2">And other wholly negligible screeds&mdash;</p>
+<p>Of decorations, crosses, medals, bars,</p>
+<p class="i2">Bestowed for valiant and heroic deeds;</p>
+<p>Over these records we must often pass</p>
+<p>Unless we've got a magnifying-glass!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But if some member of a fishing club</p>
+<p class="i2">In London or the provinces, renowned</p>
+<p>For prowess with the lob-worm or the grub,</p>
+<p class="i2">Should land a roach of more than half a pound,</p>
+<p>Then in the leading papers of the hub</p>
+<p class="i2">Full space for that achievement will be found,</p>
+<p>And clearest type and unaffected rapture</p>
+<p>Will signalize the epoch-making capture!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The moral of the episode is plain:</p>
+<p class="i2">If soldiers wish to petrify the nation,</p>
+<p>Let them&mdash;when leave permits&mdash;no more disdain</p>
+<p class="i2">To join a Roach or Perch Association,</p>
+<p>Cull giant gooseberries, and strive to gain</p>
+<p class="i2">Prizes for Blind-fold Pig Delineation.</p>
+<p>Thus only&mdash;not by cross or golden stripe&mdash;</p>
+<p>Will they achieve the honour of big type.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197"></a>[pg
+197]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/197.png"><img width="100%" src="images/197.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<h3>REPRISALS</h3>
+<i>Competitor (in international contest).</i> "THE BLIGHTER'S BIT
+ME." <i>Referee.</i> "WELL, AIN'T YER GOT NO TEETH OF YER OWN? BOX
+ON."</div>
+<hr />
+<h2>SHAKSPEARE AND THE WAR.</h2>
+<blockquote class="note">[Since the entry of the United States all
+the English-speaking peoples are in alliance for
+freedom.]</blockquote>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I think our SHAKSPEARE, gone this many a year</p>
+<p class="i2">To some rich haven where the poets throng</p>
+<p class="i2">And Ruler of Ten Cities wrought in song</p>
+<p>And spired with rhythmic music, high and clear,</p>
+<p>Still finds his England something close and dear,</p>
+<p class="i2">Rejoicing when her justice baffles wrong</p>
+<p class="i2">And willing her to wrestle and be strong.</p>
+<p>I think he bides by England and is near.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>And, in the purpose of his Overlord,</p>
+<p class="i2">His weaving spirit, still in cloudless youth</p>
+<p>With minstrelsy made perfect, throws a cord</p>
+<p class="i2">That rings the continents in its magic reach</p>
+<p class="i2">To gather all who share his English speech</p>
+<p>In one firm warrior bond of troth and truth.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>"LET LAWS AND LEARNING...."</h3>
+<blockquote>"I should add that Viscount Harberton sees a chance for
+his own order in the circumstance that, while the poor man's child
+is driven to school by the inspector, the rich man can 'boot the
+spy out,' and so confer on his children the priceless boon of
+complete illiteracy. Shall we live to see a House of Lords that
+makes its mark?"&mdash;<i>Observer.</i></blockquote>
+<p>Some of them, we believe, are under the impression that they
+have done so already.</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2>
+<p>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</p>
+<p>Unless you can share with me the sad immunity of the forties, I
+must despair of translating for you the emotion raised in my
+antique soul by the wrapper of a new RIDER HAGGARD story bearing
+the picture of a Zulu and the discovery inside that
+<i>Quatermain</i> is come again! The tale that has so excited me is
+called, a little ominously, <i>Finished</i> (WARD, LOCK), and I
+could have better loved a cheerier title. The matter is, to begin
+with, an affair of a shady doctor, of I.D.B. and an abduction; none
+of it, I admit, any too absorbing. But about halfway through the
+author, as though sharing my own views upon this part of the plot,
+exchanges (so to speak) the Shady for the Black, and transports us
+all to Zululand. And if you need reminding of what H.R.H. can do
+with that delectable country, I can only say I am sorry for you.
+Incidentally there are some stirring scenes from certain pages of
+history that the glare of these later days has rather
+faded&mdash;Isandhlwana and Rorke's Drift among them; as well as
+the human drama of the feud between CETEWAYO (terror of my
+nursery!) and the witch-doctor <i>Zikali</i>. Whether the old
+careless rapture is altogether recovered is another matter; at
+least the jolly unpronounceable names are still there, and the
+picturesque speech. Most of the names, that is; <i>Allan</i> of
+course, and others, but I for one should have welcomed rare
+<i>Umslopogaas</i>&mdash;or however he is rightly spelt&mdash;and
+<i>Curtis</i>, for personal reasons my favourite of the gallant
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>[pg
+198]</span> company that have so often kept secret rendezvous with
+me behind the unlifted lid of a desk at preparation time. And now
+have we really come at long last to <i>Finished</i>? I can only
+hope that Sir H. RIDER HAGGARD doesn't mean it.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Mrs. HUMPHRY WARD may be numbered amongst the most indefatigable
+of women war-workers. She has now followed up her former success in
+<i>England's Effort</i> with a volume carrying on the story of our
+part in the War under the title of <i>Towards the Goal</i>
+(MURRAY). The book is written in the form of a series of letters
+addressed to ex-President ROOSEVELT, as the onlie begetter both of
+it and its predecessor. It is further equipped with a preface by
+the hand of this same able and clear-sighted gentleman, the chief
+drawback of which (from my reviewing point of view) is that it
+covers so well the whole ground of appreciation as to leave me
+nothing more to add. "Mrs. Ward writes nobly on a noble
+theme"&mdash;<i>voil&agrave; tout!</i> Her theme, as I have hinted,
+is a further exposition of Britain's war activities as those have
+developed since the former book was published. In its course Mrs.
+WARD gives us some vivid experiences of her own as a visitor to the
+Western Front: things seen and heard, well calculated (were this
+needed) to stiffen the resolution of the great people to whom her
+letters are really written. <i>England's Effort</i> was, I
+understand, translated into many tongues (with results that can
+hardly fail of being enormously valuable); <i>Towards the Goal</i>
+should certainly receive the same treatment of which it is well
+worthy.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Mr. WILLIAM HARBUTT DAWSON, in his <i>After War Problems</i>
+(ALLEN AND UNWIN), covers, under the four headings, Empire and
+Citizenship, Natural Efficiency, Social Reform, and National
+Finance and Taxation, bewilderingly wide ground, and drives a
+perhaps rather mandarinish team of contributors. Lord HALDANE, for
+instance, is no longer in the real van of educational endeavour,
+and is it wholly insignificant that his chapter on Education
+appears in the section headed National Efficiency rather than in
+that of Social Reform? It ought not to be difficult to give, in the
+light of these last years, a wider interpretation to Patriotism
+than that expressed by Lord MEATH on lines familiar to his public.
+Sir WILLIAM CHANCE has seen no new sign in the skies in relation to
+the problem of poverty. Sir BENJAMIN BROWNE, whose death all those
+interested in the settlement of the Capital-Labour quarrel must
+deplore, as for all his uncompromising individualism he brought to
+it a rare breadth of view, says much that is of real value, but
+does not refrain from appealing to the fact that the mutual
+confidence of man and officer in battle is a proof of the
+possibility of a similar confidence in the workshop. That
+confidence must, and can, we dare to believe, eventually be
+established. But the men don't go over the top to put money in the
+Colonel's pocket, and little good is done by exploiting these loose
+analogies and putting on a too easy air of optimism in the face of
+desperately serious and complex problems. But enough of
+fault-finding, which is a poor reward for the serious and generous
+labours of public-spirited men and women. After all, what one
+reader calls timidity of outlook another may care to praise as
+prudence. Here you will find an abundance of safe analysis, wise
+comment and constructive suggestion from a galaxy of accredited
+authorities.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>In the early chapters of Mr. WILLIAM HEWLETT'S new story, <i>The
+Plot-Maker</i> (DUCKWORTH), we are introduced to a popular and
+highly successful novelist, named <i>Coulthard Henderson</i>, in
+the emotional crisis produced by a sudden doubt as to whether his
+output of best-sellers represented anything in the least
+approaching actuality. You will admit a tragic situation. He meets
+it by the determination that his next book shall be a veritable
+slice of life, and to this end he selects and finances an eligible
+young man for the purpose of vicariously experiencing those
+emotions, from which age and other causes debar the chronicler; in
+other words, he hires a hero. The worst of this excellent idea is
+that it can hardly be said to originate either with <i>Mr.
+Henderson</i> or Mr. HEWLETT, that credit belonging (I fancy) to
+the late HERBERT FLOWERDEW in a too-little-appreciated masterpiece
+of sensational burlesque called <i>The Realist</i>. However, <i>The
+Plot-Maker</i>, once set going, develops admirably enough on lines
+entirely its own. The so-much-an-hour hero turns out an engaging
+young gentleman, but a wofully poor protagonist. The situation
+where (in the midst of whirling events) he makes the startling
+discovery that he himself has been in some way switched on to the
+part of villain is one that you can appreciate only at first hand.
+Certainly if you want (as who does not in these days?) an
+anaesthetic of agreeable nonsense <i>The Plot-Maker</i> is a medium
+that I can cordially recommend: one obvious advantage being that
+you need not try to believe a single word of it.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF.</h3>
+<p>From a publisher's list:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>"Shells as evidence of the Migrations of Early
+Culture."</blockquote>
+<p>And modern Kultur spreads itself in just the same old way.</p>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"Lady Required to Share Rome with another."<br />
+<i>Staffordshire Sentinel</i>.</blockquote>
+<p>But what about the King of ITALY, not to mention the POPE?</p>
+<hr />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href=
+"images/198.png"><img width="100%" src="images/198.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<p><i>Eastern Potentate (rusticating)</i>. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA, MY
+DEAR FRIEND, HOW SOOTHING IT IS TO ME TO GET AWAY FROM THE
+LUXURIOUS AND ARTIFICIAL LIFE OF THE COURT AND TO SPEND MY
+WEEK-ENDS IN QUIET RETIREMENT HERE IN THE COUNTRY WHERE A FRIEND
+MAY DROP IN FOR POT LUCK AND TAKE US IN THE ROUGH."</p>
+</div>
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10594 ***</div>
+</body>
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+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
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+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #10594 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10594)
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153,
+Sept. 12, 1917, by Various, Edited by Owen Seamen
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153, Sept. 12, 1917
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: January 4, 2004  [eBook #10594]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: iso-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI,
+VOL. 153, SEPT. 12, 1917***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Punch, or the London Charivari, Sandra
+Brown, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+VOL. 153.
+
+SEPTEMBER 12TH, 1917.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHARIVARIA.
+
+The _Cologne Gazette_ is of the opinion that the American troops, when
+they arrive in France, will be hampered by their ignorance of the
+various languages. But we understand that the Americans can shoot in any
+language.
+
+       ***
+
+A weekly periodical is giving away a bicycle every other week. Meanwhile
+_The Daily Telegraph_ continues to give away a Kaiser every day.
+
+       ***
+
+"I decline to have anything to do with the War," said a Conscientious
+Objector to a North of England magistrate, "and I resent this
+interference with my liberty." Indeed he is said to be so much annoyed
+that he intends sending the War Office a jolly snappy letter about it.
+
+       ***
+
+CHARLIE CHAPLIN says a gossip writer is coming to England in the Autumn.
+This disposes of the suggestion that arrangements were being made for
+England to be taken over to him.
+
+       ***
+
+_Incidentally_ we notice that CHARLIE CHAPLIN has become a naturalised
+American, with, we presume, permission to use the rank of Honorary
+Britisher.
+
+       ***
+
+Before a Northern Tribunal an applicant stated that he was engaged in
+the completion of an invention which would enable dumb people to speak
+or signal with perfection. He was advised, however, to concentrate for a
+while on making certain Germans say "Kamerad."
+
+       ***
+
+An Isle of Wight man has succeeded in growing a vegetable marrow which
+weighs forty-three pounds. To avoid its being mistaken for the island he
+has scratched his name and address on it.
+
+       ***
+
+Those in search of a tactless present will bear in mind that Mr. MARK
+HAMBOURG has written a book entitled "How to Play the Piano."
+
+       ***
+
+The great flagstaff at Kew Gardens, which weighs 18 tons and is 215 feet
+long, is not to be erected until after the War. This has come as a great
+consolation to certain people who had feared the two events would clash.
+
+       ***
+
+In Mid Cheshire there is a scarcity of partridges, but there is plenty
+of other game in Derbyshire. The Mid-Cheshire birds are of the opinion
+that this cannot be too strongly advertised.
+
+       ***
+
+Thirteen years after it was posted at Watford a postcard has just
+reached an Ealing lady inviting her to tea, and of course she rightly
+protested that the tea was cold.
+
+       ***
+
+An estate near Goole has been purchased for £118,000, the purchaser
+having decided not to carry out his first intention of investing that
+amount in a couple of boxes of matches.
+
+       ***
+
+Herr Erzberger is known among his friends as "The Singing Socialist." We
+are afraid however that if he wants peace he will have to whistle for it.
+       ***
+
+The Provisional Government in Russia, according to _The Evening News,_
+has "always regarded an international debate on the questions of war and
+pease as useful." But our Government, not being exactly provisional,
+prefers to go on giving the enemy beans.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: COMFORTING THOUGHT
+
+When there are no taxis on your return from your holidays:
+
+"OUR TRUE STRENGTH IS TO KNOW OUR OWN WEAKNESS."--_CHARLES KINGSLEY_.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE END OF AN EPISODE.
+
+I write this in the beginning of a minor tragedy; if indeed the
+severance of any long, helpful and sympathetic association can ever be
+so lightly named. For that is precisely what our intercourse has been
+these many weeks past; one of nervous and quickly roused irritation on
+my part, of swift and gentle ministration on his.
+
+At least once a day we have met during that period (and occasionally,
+though rarely, more often), usually in those before-breakfast hours when
+the temper of normal man is most exacting and uncertain. But his temper
+never varied; the perfection of it was indeed among his finest
+qualities. Morning after morning, throughout a time that, as it chanced,
+has been full of distress and disappointment, would his soothing and
+infinitely gentle touch recall me to content. That stroking caress of
+his was a thing indescribable; one before which the black shadows left
+by the hours of night seemed literally to dissolve and vanish.
+
+And now the long expected, long dreaded has begun to happen. He, too, is
+turning against me, as so many others of his fellows have done in the
+past. Who knows the reason? What continued roughness on my part has at
+last worn out even him? But for some days now there has been no
+misreading the fatal symptoms--increasing irritability on the one side,
+harshness turning to blunt indifference on the other. And this morning
+came the unforgivable offence, the cut direct.
+
+That settles it; to-morrow, with a still smarting regret, I unwrap a new
+razor-blade.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE WHOLE HOG.
+
+    ["Victorian love-making was at best a sloppy business ... modern
+    maidens have little use for half measures.... Primitive ideas
+    are beginning to assert themselves."--_Daily Paper._]
+
+  Betty, when you were in your teens
+    And shielded from sensation,
+  Despite a lack of ways and means
+  In various appropriate scenes
+    I sighed my adoration.
+  You did not smile upon my suit;
+    Pallid I grew and pensive;
+  My disappointment was acute,
+  Life seemed a worthless thing and mute.
+  I moped, then tuned my laggard lute
+    And launched a new offensive.
+
+  Thus you were wooed in former days
+    When maids were won by waiting;
+  The modern lover finds it pays
+  To imitate the forceful ways
+    Of prehistoric mating.
+  Man is more primitive (a snub
+    Has no effect), so if you
+  Should still refuse a certain "sub."
+  He will not pine or spurn his grub,
+  But, seizing the ancestral club,
+    Into submission biff you.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MAKING THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS.
+
+    "As honorary organist at ---- Wesleyan Church he has established
+    a sound and compact business as wholesale grocer and Italian
+    warehouseman."--_Provincial Paper._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Maid (superior) wanted for lady, gentleman, small flat, strong
+    girl, able to assist lady with rheumatism."--_Glasgow Herald._
+
+If we hear of a small flat girl we will send her along; but this shaped
+figure is rather out of fashion just now.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SUPER-PIPE.
+
+When Jackson first joined the jolly old B.E.F. he smoked a pipe. He
+carried it anyhow. Loose in his pocket, mind you. A pipe-bowl at his
+pocket's brim a simple pipe-bowl was to him, and it was nothing more. Of
+course no decent B.E.F. mess could stand that. Jackson was told that a
+pipe was _anathema maranatha_, which is Greek for _no bon._
+
+"What will I smoke then?" said Jackson, who was no Englishman. We waited
+for the Intelligence Officer to reply. We knew him. The Intelligence
+Officer said nothing. He drew something from his pocket. It was a parcel
+wrapped in cloth-of-gold. He removed the cloth-of-gold and there was
+discovered a casket, which he unlocked with a key attached to his
+identity disc. Inside the casket was a padlocked box, which he opened
+with a key attached by gold wire to his advance pay-book. Inside the box
+was a roll of silk. To cut it all short, he unwound puttee after puttee
+of careful wrapping till he reached a chamois-leather chrysalis, which
+he handled with extreme reverence, and from this he drew something with
+gentle fingers, and set it on the table-cloth before the goggle-eyed
+Jackson.
+
+"A pipe," said Jackson.
+
+There was a shriek of horror. The Intelligence Officer fainted. Here was
+wanton sacrilege.
+
+"Man," said the iron-nerved Bombing Officer, "it's a Brownhill."
+
+"What's a Brownhill?" asked Jackson.
+
+We gasped. How could we begin to tell him of that West End shrine from
+which issue these lacquered symbols of a New Religion?
+
+The Intelligence Officer was reviving. We looked to him.
+
+"The prophet Brownhill," he said, "was once a tobacconist--an ordinary
+tobacconist who sold pipes."
+
+We shuddered.
+
+"He discovered one day that man wants more than mere pipes. He wants
+a--a super-pipe, something to reverence and--er--look after, you know,
+as well as to smoke. So he invented the Brownhill. It is an _affaire de
+coeur_--an affair of art," translated the I.O. proudly. "It is as glossy
+as a chestnut in its native setting, and you can buy furniture polish
+from the prophet Brownhill which will keep it always so. It has its
+year, like a famous vintage, it has a silver wind-pipe, and it costs
+anything up to fifty guineas."
+
+"D'you smoke it'?" asked Jackson, brutally.
+
+We gave him up. In awful silence each of us produced his wrappings and
+his caskets, extracted the shining briar, smeared it with cosmetics, and
+polished it more reverently than a peace time Guardsman polishes his
+buttons when warned for duty next day at "Buck."
+       *       *       *       *       *
+And Jackson smoked his pipe in secret. He would take no leaf from the
+book of the Sassenachs.
+
+And the War went on.
+       *       *       *       *       *
+Jackson went on leave. To his deep disgust he had to wait a few hours in
+London on his way to more civilised parts, and fate led him idling to
+Brownhill's. He flattened his Celtic nose on the window and stared
+fascinated at the array of super-pipes displayed there. After a furtive
+glance along the street he crept into the temple. A white-coated priest
+met him.
+
+"I--I'm wantin'--a--a pipe," said Jackson. He saw the priest reel and
+turn pale to the lips. "I should say a--a Brownhill," he added hastily.
+The other man gulped, steadied himself with an effort, and gave a
+ghastly smile. If you had walked into a temple at Thibet and planked
+down sixpence and asked for an idol wrapped up in brown paper you could
+not have done a more dreadful thing than Jackson had done; but the
+priest forgave him and produced in silence a trayful of Brownhills. Then
+was Jackson like unto ELIA'S little Chinese boy with "the crackling." He
+touched a briar and was converted. He stroked them as though they were
+kittens, bought ten of them, a pound of polish, fifty silver wind-pipes
+and a bale of chamois-leather. The priest took a deep breath.
+
+"You are a full-blooded man, Sir," said he, "if you will excuse me
+saying so, and you should smoke in your new Brownhills a mixture which
+has a proportion of Latakia to Virginian of one to nineteen--a small
+percentage of glycerine and cucumber being added because you have red
+hair, and the whole submitted to a pressure of eighteen hundred
+foot-pounds to the square millimetre, under violet rays. This will be
+known as 'Your Mixture,' Number 56785-6/11, and will be supplied to no
+one else on earth, except under penalty of death.
+
+"I will take a ton," said Jackson with glazing eyes.
+
+This was a man after the priest's own heart. He took another deep breath
+and dived into the strong-room. He returned under the escort of ten
+armed men, each of them chained by the wrist to an iron box, which he
+unlocked with difficulty. Inside the iron box was a thing which Jackson
+a few months ago would have called a pipe. He knew better now. In awful
+silence the priest lifted it from its satin bed. "This," he whispered,
+"was once smoked by Brownhill himself."
+
+Jackson put out a hand to take it. The priest hesitated, then laid it
+gently on his customer's palm.
+
+And Jackson dropped it.
+
+Jackson has never been heard of since.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE FAIRIES HAVE NEVER A PENNY TO SPEND.
+
+  The fairies have never a penny to spend,
+    They haven't a thing put by,
+  But theirs is the dower of bird and of flower,
+    And theirs are the earth and the sky.
+  And though you should live in a palace of gold
+    Or sleep in a dried-up ditch,
+  You could never be poor as the fairies are,
+        And never as rich.
+
+  Since ever and ever the world began
+    They have danced like a ribbon of flame,
+  They have sung their song through the centuries long,
+    And yet it is never the same.
+  And though you be foolish or though you be wise,
+    With hair of silver or gold,
+  You could never be young as the fairies are
+        And never as old.
+
+R. F.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+RARA AVIS.
+
+From a cigarette-card:--
+
+    "REED WARBLER.
+
+    "_Acrocephalus streperus._
+
+    "This bird is found in nearly every part of the British Islands.
+    It builds a nest about a foot off the ground in the reed beds,
+    and is formed of grass, horse hair and sometimes feathers."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From a list of medallists of the new Order of the British Empire:--
+
+    "G. P. Hamlet.--For courage in persisting with dangerous work,
+    with a certainty of suffering from poisoning as a result."
+
+Just like his illustrious namesake.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Melbourne, Friday.
+
+    "The House of Representatives to-day passed the second reading of
+    the War Times Profits Tax Assessment Bill. The tax will be 50
+    per cent. for the year ending June 30, 191161, and 75 per cent.
+    for afterwards.--Reuter."
+
+    _Aberdeen Paper._
+
+Well, well, we need not worry.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "What is being fought out is a long-drawn battle for the
+    important shipping port of Trieste, with the whole of the
+    railway and road communications of the Iberian Peninsula."
+
+    _The People._
+
+Rather a shock for Madrid.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE REVERSE OF THE MEDAL.
+
+OPTIMISTIC GERMAN _(reading paper)._ "THIS IS KOLOSSAL! OUR IRRESISTIBLE
+AIRMEN HAVE AGAIN, FOR THE TWENTIETH TIME, DESTROYED LONDON."
+
+GLOOMY DITTO. "THAT BEING SO, LET'S HOPE THEY'LL STOP THOSE CURSED
+BRITISH AIRMEN FROM BOMBING OUR LINES EVERY DAY AND NIGHT."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STUDY IN SYMMETRY.
+
+The following story, however improbable it may seem to you, is true.
+
+Once upon a time there was an artist with historical leanings not
+unassociated with the desire for pelf--pelf being, even to idealists,
+what petrol is to a car. The blend brought him one day to Portsmouth,
+where the _Victory_ lies, with the honourable purpose of painting a
+picture of that famous ship with NELSON on board. What the ADMIRAL was
+doing I cannot say--most probably dying--but the artist's intention was
+to make the work as attractive as might be and thus draw a little profit
+from the wave of naval enthusiasm which was then passing over the
+country; for not only was the picture itself to be saleable, but
+reproductions were to be made of it.
+
+Permission having been obtained from the authorities, the artist boarded
+the _Victory_, set up his easel on her deck and settled down to his
+task, the monotony of which was pleasantly alleviated by the chatter of
+the old salts who guard the ship and act as guides to the tourists who
+visit her. All of these estimable men not only possessing views on art,
+but having come by now to the firm belief that they had fought with
+NELSON, their criticisms were not too easily combated and the artist
+hadn't a tedious moment. Thus, painting, conversing and learning (as one
+can learn only from a trained imparter of information), three or four
+days passed quickly away and the picture was done.
+
+So far there has been nothing--has there?--to strain credulity. No. But
+a time will come--is, in fact, upon us.
+
+On the evening of the last day, as the artist was sitting at early
+dinner with a friend before catching the London train, his remarks
+turned (as an artist's sometimes will) upon the work upon which he had
+just been engaged. He expressed satisfaction with it in the main, but
+could not, he said, help feeling that its chances of becoming a real
+success would be sensibly increased if he could find as a model for the
+central figure some one whose resemblance to NELSON was noticeable.
+
+"There are, of course," he went on, "at the same time--that is to say,
+among contemporaries--no two faces exactly alike. That is an axiom.
+Strange as it may sound, among all the millions of countenances with two
+eyes, a nose in the middle and a mouth below it, some difference exists
+in each. That is, as I say, among contemporaries: in the world at this
+moment in which I am speaking. But," he continued, warming to his
+subject, for, as you will have already gathered, he was not one of the
+taciturn brush-brotherhood, "after the lapse of years I see no reason
+why nature should not begin precisely to reproduce physiognomies and so
+save herself the trouble of for ever diversifying them. That being
+so--and surely the hypothesis is not too far-fetched"--here his friend
+said, "No, not at all--oh no!"--"why," the artist continued, "should
+there not be at this moment, more than a century later, some one whose
+resemblance to NELSON is exact? He would not be necessarily a naval
+man--probably, indeed, not, for NELSON's face was not characteristic of
+the sea--but whoever he was, even if he were an archbishop, I," said the
+painter firmly, "should not hesitate to go up to him and ask him to sit
+to me."
+
+The friend agreed that this was a very proper attitude and that it
+betokened true sincerity of purpose.
+
+"NELSON's face," the painter continued, "was an uncommon one. So large
+and so mobile a mouth is rare. But I have no doubt that a duplicate
+exists, and no matter who is the owner of it, even were he an
+archbishop, I should not hesitate to go up and ask him to sit to me."
+
+(For the benefit of any feminine reader of this veracious history I
+should say that the repetition which she has just noticed is not an
+accident, but has been carefully set down. It is an attempt to give
+verisimilitude to the conversation--because men always say things like
+that twice.)
+
+The friend again remarked that the painter's resolve did him infinite
+credit, and the two started for the station, still conversing on the
+same theme.
+
+On entering their carriage the first thing to take their attention was a
+quiet little man in black, who was the absolute double of the hero of
+Trafalgar.
+
+"Good gracious!" whispered the painter excitedly, "do you see that?
+There's the very man. The likeness to NELSON is astonishing. I never saw
+anything like it. I don't care who he is, I must tackle him. It's the
+most extraordinary chance that ever occurred."
+
+Assuming his most silky and deferential manner--for, though clearly not
+an archbishop, unless in mufti, this might yet be a person of
+importance--the painter approached the stranger and tendered a card.
+
+"I trust, Sir, that you will excuse me," he began, "for the liberty I am
+taking, but I am an artist and I happen to be engaged on a picture of
+NELSON on the _Victory_. I have all the accessories and so forth, but
+what I very seriously need is a brief sitting from some gentleman with a
+likeness to the great little Admiral. Such, Sir, as yourself. It may be
+news to you--it probably is--but you, Sir, if I may say so, are so like
+the famous and immortal warrior as almost to take one's breath away. It
+is astonishing, wonderful! Might I--would it be--could you--would you,
+Sir, be so very kind as to allow me to paint you? I would, of course,
+make every effort not to inconvenience you--I would arrange so that your
+time should be mine."
+
+"Of course I will, guvnor," said the man. "I'm a professional model and
+I've been sitting for NELSON for years. Why, I've been doing it for an
+artist this very afternoon."
+
+[Illustration: OUR RESTRICTED COAST AMUSEMENTS.
+
+_Vendor_. "ALL THE OFFICIAL 'OLIDAY FUN. FLY THE PATRIOTIC KITES AND
+ANNOY THE GOTHAS!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Physical Drill Instructor (to weak-kneed recruit)_. "NAH
+THEN! IF YOU'RE A-GOING TER JUMP--_JUMP!_"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A LOST LAND.
+
+(To GERMANY.)
+
+  A childhood land of mountain ways,
+  Where earthy gnomes and forest fays,
+  Kind foolish giants, gentle bears,
+  Sport with the peasant as he fares
+  Affrighted through the forest glades,
+  And lead sweet wistful little maids
+  Lost in the woods, forlorn, alone,
+  To princely lovers and a throne.
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  Dear haunted land of gorge and glen,
+  Ah me! the dreams, the dreams of men!
+
+  A learned land of wise old books
+  And men with meditative looks,
+  Who move in quaint red-gabled towns
+  And sit in gravely-folded gowns,
+  Divining in deep-laden speech
+  The world's supreme arcana--each
+  A homely god to listening Youth
+  Eager to tear the veil of Truth;
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  Mild votaries of book and pen--
+  Alas, the dreams, the dreams of men!
+
+  A music land, whose life is wrought
+  In movements of melodious thought;
+  In symphony, great wave on wave--
+  Or fugue, elusive, swift, and grave;
+  A singing land, whose lyric rhymes
+  Float on the air like village chimes:
+  Music and Verse--the deepest part
+  Of a whole nation's thinking heart!
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  Oh land of Now, oh land of Then!
+  Dear God! the dreams, the dreams of men!
+
+  Slave nation in a land of hate,
+  Where are the things that made you great?
+  Child-hearted once--oh, deep defiled,
+  Dare you look now upon a child?
+  Your lore--a hideous mask wherein
+  Self-worship hides its monstrous sin:--
+  Music and verse, divinely wed--
+  How can these live where love is dead?
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  Oh depths beneath sweet human ken,
+  God help the dreams, the dreams of men!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "The Blessington Papers are included with all their atmosphere
+    of distinguished High Bohemia. Among them are some interesting
+    Disraeli letters--he was ever her staunch friend from the early
+    'thirties to the late 'forties, when his son had risen and
+    her's--how brilliant!--had set."--_Saturday Review_.
+
+And up to the present we had been under the impression that both these
+distinguished persons were childless.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HINT FOR HORTICULTURISTS.
+
+    "Mr. ----, undertaker, of Temuka, improved his plant by the
+    purchase of a new hearse."--_Timaru Herald (New Zealand)_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Mr. ---- hopes shortly to be seen again in revue in the Wet
+    End."--_Pall Mall Gazette_.
+
+Or, as the CENSOR would put it, "somewhere in England."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    _Daily Mail_ (Ordinary Edition), 3 September, 1917: "Lord
+    Halsbury is 92 to-day."
+
+    _Times_ (Late War Edition), 3 September, 1917: "The Earl of
+    Halsbury is 94 to-day."
+
+Yet, from personal observation, one would never believe that the EX-LORD
+CHANCELLOR was ageing so rapidly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From "German Official":--
+
+    "With the use of numerous tanks and aeroplanes, flying at a low
+    altitude, the English infantry soon after advanced to the attack
+    on this front."--_Evening Paper_.
+
+Now that the enemy has given away the secret of our new weapon the
+CENSOR might let us know more of our flying Tanks.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Prisoner then seized her round the throat with both hands and
+    hit her on the head with a steel case-opener."--_Daily Paper_.
+
+Which, presumably, he carried in his teeth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SUNFLOWER.
+
+"Have you," said Francesca, "seen our sunflowers lately?"
+
+"Yes," I said, "I've kept an eye on them occasionally. It's a bit
+difficult, by the way, not to see them, isn't it?"
+
+"Well," she said, "perhaps they are rather striking."
+
+"Striking!" I said. "I never heard a more inadequate word. I call them
+simply overwhelming--the steam-rollers of the vegetable world. Look at
+their great yellow open faces."
+
+"I never," said Francesca, "saw a steam-roller with a face. You're
+mixing your metaphors."
+
+"And," I said, "I shall go on mixing them as long as you grow
+sunflowers. It's the very least a man can do by way of protest."
+
+"I don't know why you should want to protest. The seed makes very good
+chicken-food."
+
+"Yes, I know," I said, "that's what you always said."
+
+"And I bet," she said, "you've repeated it. When you've met the tame
+Generals and Colonels at your club, and they've boasted to you about
+their potatoes, I know you've countered them with the story of how
+you've turned the whole of your lawn into a bed of sunflowers calculated
+to drive the most obstinate hen into laying two eggs a day, rain or
+shine."
+
+"I admit," I said, "that I may have mentioned the matter casually, but I
+never thought the things were going to be like this. When I first knew
+them and talked about them they were tender little shoots of green just
+modestly showing above the ground, and now they're a forest primeval.
+The murmuring pines and the hemlock aren't in it with this impenetrable
+jungle liberally blotched with yellow, this so-called sunflower patch."
+
+"What would you call it," she said, "if you didn't call it sunflower?"
+
+"I should call it a beast of prey," I said. "A sunflower seems to me to
+be more like a tiger than anything else."
+
+"It was a steam-roller about a minute ago."
+
+"Yes," I said, "it was--a tigerish steam-roller."
+
+"How interesting," she said. "I have not met one quite like that."
+
+"That," I said, "is because your eye isn't properly poetical. It's
+blocked with chicken-food and other utilitarian objects."
+
+"I must," she said, "consult an oculist. Perhaps he will give me glasses
+which will unblock my eye and make me see tigers in the garden."
+
+"No," I said, "you will have to do it for yourself. For such an eye as
+yours even the best oculists are unavailing."
+
+"I might," she said, "improve if I read poetry at home. Has any poet
+written about sunflowers?"
+
+"Yes," I said, "BLAKE did. He was quite mad, and he wrote a poem to a
+sunflower: 'Ah! Sunflower! Weary of time.' That's how it begins."
+
+"Weary of time!" she said scornfully. "That's no good to me. I'm weary
+of having no time at all to myself."
+
+"That shows," I said, "that you're not a sunflower."
+
+"Thank heaven for that," she said. "It's enough to have four children to
+look after--five including yourself."
+
+"My dear Francesca," I said, "how charming you are to count me as a
+child! I shall really begin to feel as if there were golden threads
+among the silver."
+
+"Tut-tut," she said, "you're not so grey as all that."
+
+"Yes, I am," I said, "quite as grey as all that and much greyer; only we
+don't talk about it."
+
+"But we _do_ talk about sunflowers," she said, "don't we?"
+
+"If you'll promise to have the beastly glaring things dug up--"
+
+"Not," she said, "before we've extracted from them their last pip of
+chicken-food."
+
+"Well, anyhow," I said, "as soon as possible. If you'll promise to do
+that I'll promise never to mention them again."
+
+"But you'll lose your reputation with the Generals and Colonels."
+
+"I don't mind that," I said, "if I can only rid the garden of their
+detested presence."
+
+"My golden-threaded boy," said Francesca, "it shall be as you desire."
+
+R.C.L.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CONSTABLE JINKS.
+
+  Our village policeman is tall and well-grown,
+  He stands six feet two and he weighs sixteen stone;
+  His gait is majestic, his visage serene,
+  And his boots are the biggest that ever I've seen.
+
+  Fame sealed his renown with a definite stamp
+  When two German waiters escaped from a camp.
+  Unaided he captured those runaway Huns
+  Who had lived for a week on three half-penny buns.
+
+  When a derelict porpoise was cast on the shore
+  Our village policeman was much to the fore;
+  He measured the beast from its tip to its tail,
+  And blandly pronounced it "an undersized whale."
+
+  When a small boy was flying his kite on the links
+  It was promptly impounded by Constable Jinks,
+  Who astutely remarked that it might have been seen
+  By the vigilant crew of a Hun submarine.
+
+  It is sometimes alleged that great valour he showed
+  When he chased a mad cow for three miles on the road;
+  But there's also another account of the hunt
+  With a four-legged pursuer, a biped in front.
+
+  If your house has been robbed and his counsel you seek
+  He's sure to look in--in the course of the week,
+  When his massive appearance will comfort your cook,
+  Though he fails in the bringing of culprits to book.
+
+  His _obiter dicta_ on life and the law
+  Set our ribald young folk in a frequent guffaw;
+  But the elders repose an implicit belief
+  In so splendid a product of beer and of beef.
+
+  He's the strongest and solidest man in the place,
+  Nothing--short of mad cattle--can quicken his pace;
+  His moustache would do credit to any dragoon,
+  And his voice is as deep as a double bassoon.
+
+  His complexion is perfect, his uniform neat,
+  He rivets all eyes as he stalks down the street;
+  And I doubt if his critics will ever complain
+  Of his being a little deficient in brain.
+
+  For he's more than a man; he's a part of the map;
+  His going would cause a deplorable gap;
+  And the village would suffer as heavy a slump
+  As it would from the loss of the old parish pump.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A HAPPY JUXTAPOSITION.
+
+    "CHEAPER MATCHES. | FRESH LIGHT ON THE KAISER'S PLOTS."
+
+    _Daily Mirror._
+
+From the report of a Royal investiture:--
+
+    "The first officer to mount the dais was Major ----, who wore
+    the broad-brimmed slouch hat of the Austrian Infantry."
+
+    _North China Daily News._
+
+A souvenir, of course.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SUPPLY AND DEMAND.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Mother (to maid, who has offered Marjorie some jam)._
+"OH NO, THANK YOU, NOT WITH THE _FIRST_ PIECE."
+
+_Marjorie._ "BUT, MUMMY, I HAVE GIVEN UP HAVING A FIRST PIECE NOW--WAR
+ECONOMY."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE TRENCH CODE.
+
+  Ah! with what awe, what infantile impatience,
+    We eyed the artifice when issued out,
+  And racked our brains about the Regulations,
+    And tried to think we had them free from doubt!
+  As Rome's old Fathers, reverently leaning
+    In secret cellars o'er the Sibyl's strain,
+         Beyond the fact that several pars
+         Had something vague to do with Mars,
+  Failed, as a rule, to find the smallest meaning,
+    But told the plebs the oracle was plain.
+
+  So did we study it, ourselves deceiving,
+    In hope to say, "We have no rations here,"
+  Or, "Please, Brigade, this regiment wants relieving,"
+    And "Thank you for the bombs--but why no beer?"
+  And wondered always, with a hint of presage,
+    Since never word emerged as it was planned,
+        If it was Hermes, Lord of Craft,
+        Compiled the code, or someone daft,
+  So that no mortal could compose a message
+    Which anybody else could understand.
+
+  Too soon the Staff, to spoil our tiny slumbers,
+    Or, as they said, to certify our skill,
+  Sent us a screed, all signs and magic numbers,
+    And what it signified is mystery still.
+  We flung them back a message yet more mazy
+    To say we weren't unravelling their own,
+        And marked it _urgent_, and designed
+        That it should reach them while they dined.
+  All night they toiled, till half the crowd were crazy
+    And bade us breathe its burthen o'er the 'phone.
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  But now they want it back--_and it is missing!_
+    And shall one patriot heart withhold a throb?
+  For four high officers have been here, hissing,
+    And plainly panicky about their job.
+  I know they think some dark, deluded bandit
+    Has gone and given it to KAISER BILL.
+        But though I'm grieved the General's cross,
+        I have no qualms about the loss--
+  If clever men like us can't understand it,
+    I don't suppose the Wilhelmstrasse will!
+
+A. P. H.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SPREAD OF THE TEMPERANCE MOVEMENT.
+
+    "I, J.A.H. De la Bere, of Woolsevy Rectory, Morchard Bishop,
+    Devon, desire to Alter my Surname to De la Fontaine."--_Times._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "WANTED
+
+    "end August in Swiss family (2 persons) living in villa near
+    Lausanne
+
+    "NURSERY'S MAID
+
+    "able to saw, iron attend at table and take entire care of
+    healthy baby 19 months old Good English accent serious
+    references." _La Tribune de Lausanne._
+
+We are glad to hear that the baby has a good English accent; he will be
+able to employ it with effect when the Nursery's Maid begins to saw and
+iron him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "In the cases in which the surgeon his obliged to vast empty a
+    bone so that offers then itself difficulties therapeuticals not
+    little because of pus and consequenty becauses of impossibility
+    of transplantations, plastics, plombages ecc., the A. propose to
+    go on the bone with specials inesions, not on the surface when
+    the bone is most superficial, but from the surface in which are
+    aboundings and easily cessible wet tissue, removing the margin
+    of the bone's cavity and mathing in mode as, by cause of
+    repaidis process, this tissue by hemselves adhere to a ground of
+    cavity and full it."--_La Clinica Chirurgica._
+
+That makes it perfectly clear.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: AVANTI, SAVOIA!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A DAUGHTER OF THE BACK STEPPES.
+
+_(Russia may not yet be quite sufficiently herself to be the martial
+ally that we could desire, but she still continues to send us the most
+delightful fiction. Mr. PUNCH is privileged in being able to offer his
+readers the opening of a new and fascinating story translated from the
+Russian of Ghastlilkoff.)_
+
+I was born in the year 18--, and I have never ceased to regret it. I
+lived with my grandmother. She was called Natasha. I do not know why.
+She had a large mole on her left cheek. Often she would embrace me with
+tears and lament over me, crying, "My little sad one, my little lonely
+one!" Yet I was not sad; I had too many griefs. Nor was I lonely, for I
+had no playmates.
+
+Often my grandmother told me I was ugly. I had no mirror, so I believed
+her. When I was sixteen a man I met in the street went mad for love of
+me and cut his throat. For the first time in my life I wondered if my
+grandmother always spoke the truth. I went home and wept, but when she
+asked me why I could not tell her.
+
+Our house was quite dark. It had three rooms leading in and out of one
+another, and no windows. There was not much fresh air. Every morning my
+grandmother went out to buy otchkza and pickled onions. The man who sold
+them was very old. He had a cast in each eye. He inquired of my
+grandmother if she would allow him to be my husband, but she refused.
+His name I do not remember.
+
+Our neighbours were very pleasant people, kindly and simple. There was a
+half-witted youth called Krop. He used to fill his mouth with large
+brass-headed nails. I did not dare to go near him, for he always tried
+to bite my arms. One day I learned that he had died. My grandmother
+bought me black silk mittens to wear at his funeral. I was very proud,
+and ran out into the road to show them to the other children. But in my
+haste I split them across from seam to seam, and my grandmother whipped
+me and put me to bed.
+
+My grandmother's chief friend was a woman who sold toasted cheese. It
+was her custom to bring round the delicacy on a small hand-cart and sell
+to the children for a few kopecks. This woman was reputed to be very
+rich. She was not beautiful, for she had no teeth, and had hair on her
+face. The first time I saw her I ran into the house and hid behind the
+large barrel of butter-milk. My grandmother took me by the ear and led
+me to her friend.
+
+"This is Ilonoka," she said. "She is a good girl."
+
+I remember that I cried very loud.
+
+Afterwards my grandmother told me that perhaps the woman would leave me
+all her money. Next time she came I wished to speak to her, but
+unfortunately I had a quinsy. When the woman eventually died it was
+discovered that she had been destitute for a long time. She left her
+hand-cart by will to my grandmother, and in her disappointment my
+grandmother beat me over the head with it. Soon afterwards my hair began
+to come out, and my grandmother said it was time I found a husband.
+
+Accordingly she went next door, where lived a woman with five sons. They
+were all out except one, and he had a sore leg. She brought him to me,
+and I cried very bitterly. He also. His name was Ivan, and I wished it
+had been Peter.
+
+The next day we were betrothed, and all our friends came to eat the
+feast that my grandmother provided. A school-fellow of mine, a very
+beautiful girl, was angry because I had a husband and not she. She
+scratched my face, and the blood ran on to my dress. Our friends
+congratulated us, and when they had gone my grandmother said it had been
+a great success. She and I finished what was left of the feast and went
+to bed. I remember that my feet were very cold, and when I fell asleep I
+dreamed that my betrothed's name was Peter. When I awoke I cried very
+loud, and my grandmother slapped my cheeks.
+
+Shortly afterwards she died, and I went to live with my uncle, who was a
+pawnbroker in Moscow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LONG-FACED CHUMS.
+
+  When Alexander won the world he knew not bombs nor guns,
+  His simple forms of frightfulness were quite unlike the Huns';
+  'Twas not by barking mortars that the pushful CAESAR scored;
+  He trusted close formations and the silent stabbing sword.
+
+  When ROLAND'S rearguard turned at bay, and from the furious press
+  The scuppered Paladin sent forth his famous S.O.S.,
+  Scared Roncesvalles rang loud with war, as misty legends tell,
+  But echo's ear was spared the shriek and crash of bursting shell.
+
+  So could you meet the shades of those whose prowess made Romance,
+  You'd find them only puzzled by your tales of stunts in France;
+  You'd have to cut the business out, and be content to chat
+  Of rations, grub, and officers--such odds and ends as that,
+
+  Unless you chanced to entertain some true rough-rider's ghost,
+  Who galloped after HANNIBAL, or with the Parthian host,
+  Some curled Assyrian prince who pranced, bareback, along a frieze--
+  Or one of RUPERT'S _beaux sabreurs_--a horseman--whom you please.
+
+  With chosen spirits such as those your talk need never end
+  If you are worthy of your spurs and count a horse your friend.
+  Just ask them "Did you clip trace-high?" or "Did you chaff your hay?"
+  Or boast about the gee you ride, and they'll have lots to say.
+
+  Cut out the talk of battle's din, of whizz-bangs and of crumps,
+  Of bombs and gas and hand-grenades, of mines and blazing dumps;
+  If you would wake their sympathy and warm their hearts indeed
+  Describe a Squadron watering, and then the fuss at "Feed!"
+
+  That lively bustle has a charm to wake a mummy's ear
+  Who, ere the Pyramids were planned, was mustered charioteer;
+  And many a horseman's spirit thrills by Lethe's drowsy brink
+  When in a strange, familiar dream his Troop comes down to drink!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From "The Story of the Haldane Missions":--
+
+    "The Kaiser laughingly remarked that he had better have the high
+    chair (in which the Kaiser usually sat at his council meetings).
+    He also gave Lord Haldane an Imperial cigar.... While discussing
+    the naval question, the Kaiser took a copy of the new Naval Bill
+    out of his pocket and handed it to Lord Haldane, who transferred
+    it to his pocket without looking at it."--_Daily Chronicle._
+
+He probably thought it was another of the Imperial cigars.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Grocer-fiend (who has treated three preceding customers
+to (a) "We ain't got no sugar;" (b) "We have none, Madam;" and (c) "No
+sugar in the shop"--to boy)._ "BE OFF. WE'VE GOT NO SUGAR!"
+
+_Boy._ "I DIDN'T ASK FOR NO SUGAR. I WANT A PENNORTH O' SODA--AN' THAT'S
+TAKEN THE' BLOOMING SWANK OUT OF YOU, AIN'T IT?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STRAIGHT TALK WITH L. G.
+
+_(Everyone has views as to how to win the War, but not all are vocal,
+or--shall we say?--vociferous. If Mr. LLOYD GEORGE reads all the papers
+(as their Editors of course expect him to do) he cannot have missed
+quite a number of powerful articles in the following manner. And even if
+he should miss one or two it would not matter, because there is always
+another in preparation.)_
+
+I've always said that the PREMIER shouldn't be bothered with Parliament.
+Of course I've said too that our old friend Demos, the new god, should
+have a say in affairs; but that's an inconsistency that doesn't count in
+the least, does it?
+
+Now then, Mr. PREMIER, you've got the chance of your lifetime. I always
+said you were a lucky devil--in fact, I never met the Welshman that
+wasn't.
+
+You see, Parliament's in recess, and all its trivial overpaid Members
+are playing golf and things. You've got absolutely a free hand if only
+you'll take it. It's quite easy and bound to succeed. You've only got to
+do as I tell you.
+
+For instance, you want to buck up HAIG and the people at the Front. It's
+no use them telling you they know best, being on the spot. That's only
+bluff, old man. Don't take any notice of them, but just order a big
+general offensive; and before you can say Jack Robinson we'll have the
+Huns behind the Rhine.
+
+And do tell the Navy to get a move on. I'm glad to see my articles have
+made you change the heads at the Admiralty; and of course that's all
+very well so far as it goes. But it doesn't go far enough. _Have a chat
+with BEATTY about it._ Get him to root the Huns out. He can bombard
+Ostend and Zeebrugge and all those funny little places in two-twos. Tell
+KING ALBERT not to mind. We'll easily slap up new towns for him after
+the War, built on the speedy American principle.
+
+Then about that aerial offensive. There's really been quite enough talk
+about it. We want some action, Mr. PREMIER. Isn't it time it came off?
+Think what a bombardment of Cologne (taking care of the cathedral, _of
+course_), Frankfurt, Berlin, Essen and Hamburg would do, not to mention
+other places that I could if I had an atlas.
+
+And about those pacifists. Just clap the whole lot in gaol. That's the
+best place for them. I won't object in the least, even though I am the
+apostle of freedom.
+
+Then there are lots and lots of other things you might do. You might
+deliver a reasoned manifesto to the Russian people and buck them up a
+bit. That won't do anybody any harm, and _it'll be getting on with the
+War_, my little Welshman.
+
+Well, there are a few points for you to go on with. You've got the
+brains to think of more, otherwise I wouldn't have helped to put you
+where you are to-day. But remember that if you _don't_ do these things
+Demos is waiting round the corner for you.
+
+Demos is a good dog--a patient animal. But there's an end even to his
+patience. Growl, Demos, and show you're not afraid of Welshmen!
+
+("Grrr----!" Good dog! Good dog!)
+
+Now then, old boy, I've shown you the way. _It's up to you!_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Another powerful article on these lines will appear next week.
+
+[But not in _Punch_.-ED.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Caller at the office of the Inventions Board._ "'DURING
+WAR PREPARE FOR PEACE'--THAT MUST BE OUR MOTTO! AND MY SPECIAL PATENT
+SHELL-CASE IS THE VERY THING. A SHELL-CASE TO-DAY----AND A BLANC-MANGE
+MOULD TO-MORROW."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE ONLY OTHER TOPIC.
+
+"I shot a marrow into the--I mean I cut a marrow two feet seven inches
+long yesterday," said the man in the corner seat.
+
+"What did it weigh?" we asked anxiously. After two months of them
+potatoes had somewhat palled. We were growing rather tired of marrows,
+but we waited eagerly for his answer,
+
+"Twenty-six pounds nine and three-quarter ounces."
+
+Disappointment again. Our hopes were dashed to the ground. Some obscure
+individual, according to the local press, had produced from his humble
+cottage garden a marrow weighing thirty-four pounds, and the thing
+rankled.
+
+"Mine was a scraggy specimen, more like an Indian club than a marrow."
+
+"Crossed in love, perhaps," said Dalton.
+
+"What your marrow wanted was nourishment," said the Authority. "A piece
+of worsted round its neck, with one end dipped in a jar of water."
+
+"Excuse me," said Jones, "the very latest is to insert a tube in the
+stalk, and the flavour is greatly improved if you add a little sugar to
+the water. Almost like a melon."
+
+"Do you take a card out for each marrow, or one for each plant?" asked
+Dalton.
+
+The quiet man opposite put his paper down. He was a new-comer in the
+district. We liked him, although he had no sense of humour and did not
+appreciate Dalton's jokes. He appeared to be interested only in the
+startling and the odd.
+
+"That reminds me," he said, "of a most extraordinary experience I had a
+few days ago. Of course you all know Enderby?"
+
+None of us knew Enderby, but we I did not like to say so. The quiet
+man's anxiety was painful. We felt he could not go on with his story
+unless someone knew Enderby.
+
+"He has a little place round at the back of the Common--quite a nice
+little place." Freath--that was the quiet man's name--looked at us
+reproachfully.
+
+"I think I know Enderby," said Dalton. "Isn't he a heavily-built man
+about fifty, with a grey moustache?"
+
+"Yes, yes," said Freath eagerly. "And a curious wart on his left cheek.
+Well, I dined with him the other night. His boy was there, home for the
+holidays. Very clever boy; his special study is the biology of plants.
+They gave me a very good dinner; I didn't notice very much what I was
+eating, but I did when the maid helped me to marrow. It was a deep
+crimson colour. I tasted it somewhat nervously, for I felt they were all
+watching me. It had the taste of the most exquisite fruit, and the
+flavour--I am afraid you won't believe me--was that of the finest port
+that I ever drank. 'How did you manage this, Arthur?' said Enderby.
+'Grape-juice,' said Arthur. 'Those foreign black grapes are very cheap
+just now, so I mixed some with the water that I was feeding the marrows
+on.' I can't explain it to you; all I know is that I had a second
+helping. I am afraid you don't believe it," said Freath uneasily.
+
+We assured him that we did, but we did not say it with conviction.
+
+"Enderby called round to see me a few days afterwards," continued
+Freath, "and I walked back with him. As we went along he told me that a
+relative was staying with them--an uncle. The first night, again they
+had marrow for dinner. This time its flavour was not port but
+whisky--Scotch whisky. The old gentleman was delighted with Arthur and
+his experiments. Although an abstainer he had three helpings. This was
+very pleasing to Enderby, as the uncle was a man of considerable wealth.
+But he was not at all satisfied with his son's explanations, and he
+thought he recognised the whisky. Although an abstainer while the War is
+on, Enderby keeps a very good cellar, and when he came to look into
+things he found that Arthur had been pumping his finest '60 port and old
+matured Scotch whisky into the vegetable marrows. Now what do you think
+of that?"
+
+We thought it very strange and we said so.
+
+"But the strangest part has yet to come. Of course they had to keep it
+quiet--bottle it up, so to speak, from the old gentleman, and let the
+marrows down gradually. But when the marrows were once more on a
+temperance _régime_ the most extraordinary thing happened." The train
+was running into Finsbury Park. Freath rose and collected his things.
+
+We stared at him, fascinated.
+
+"Enderby took me into the garden to see it. He said it had been going on
+for the last week. From all directions, rioting across the flower-beds,
+the lawn, down the paths, the marrows were growing towards the
+wine-cellar at the rate of twelve feet a day."
+
+Freath hastily left the carriage and jumped into the Broad Street train.
+
+While we were discussing the story the voice of authority spoke: "The
+whole thing's a tissue of falsehood. There's no such man as Enderby."
+
+"But Dalton knows him," we said.
+
+"I don't know Enderby," said Dalton. "But I wanted to hear the story."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AT THE PLAY.
+
+"THE PACIFISTS."
+
+As a reasonable jusquaboutist I have some misgivings about Mr. HENRY
+ARTHUR JONES'S farce--parable, _The Pacifists_. Assume _Market
+Pewbury's_ afflictions to have been as stated: an intolerable stalwart
+cad of a butcher fencing-in the best part of the common, assaulting
+people's grandmothers, shutting them up in coal-cellars and eating their
+crumpets, kissing their wives in the market square and proposing to
+abduct them to seaside resorts, and none so bold to do him violence and
+make him stop it; the police being ill or absent, the Mayor and his
+friend, chief victim of the butcher's aggression, unwilling on account
+of principles to do anything but talk and get up leagues to deal with
+the trouble in general, and in a final ecstasy of disapproval to write a
+strong letter; only uncle _Belcher_, a truculent old sea-dog with a
+natural lust for whisky and blood, organising an opposition, valiantly
+hiring a notable pugilist to deal with the butcher, and becoming
+desperately anxious lest the matter should be peaceably settled because
+the basher, having been engaged, _must_ find something to bash or there
+will be trouble. Well, if we must have forged for us the sword of a
+three-Act parable, we should like it with one edge, not two.
+
+Mr. JONES was evidently bursting with the desire to give some irritating
+people a very hard knock--witness the barbed dedication with which the
+normally peaceful theatre-announcement columns have bristled some little
+time past; and I think I dare say that we were interested in his first
+Act. He did really work out his analogies with some skill. But we soon
+came to feel that he was essentially doing something between flogging a
+dead horse, so far as we were concerned, and shooting a sitting rabbit.
+I suspect too that we realised the issues were too tragic for this kind
+of buffoonery. The tribute of our applause was a tribute of loyalty to
+one who has often deserved well of the republic, and partly the desire
+to show that our hearts were in the right place. I don't see _The
+Pacifists_ as a pamphlet making many converts. As a kick on the shins it
+has points.
+
+I confess the thing that pleased me most was a gay little piece of
+burlesque by Mr. ARTHUR CHESNEY as the red-haired shop assistant who was
+_not_ a pacifist. Mr. CHARLES GLENNEY so thoroughly enjoyed the
+robustious sea-captain that we had to enjoy it too--a sound notion of
+entertainment, that. Mr. SEBASTIAN SMITH played chief rabbit with
+considerable skill and point; Mr. LENNOX PAWLE amused with his plump
+dundrearyed mayor; Mr. SAM LIVESEY'S offensive was, I am sure, as
+Hunnish as its author could possibly have desired. Miss ELLIS JEFFREYS
+appeared in the first Act as a very plausible imitation of a prominent
+tradesman's wife in an eighth-rate provincial town, with some quite
+excellent moments. But she was evidently labouring under severe strain,
+and I amused myself by speculating how long she would keep out of a
+really well-cut skirt and a sophisticated air of Mayfair. Just an Act.
+And surely she is mistaken in thinking that an effect of extreme
+agitation is best conveyed, by very rapid quasi-cinematographic
+progression up and down the stage? But I saw no reason to complain of
+the bold bad butcher's taste in the matter of a subject for abduction.
+
+T.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Sergeant (to Private Simpkins arriving two days late)._
+"WELL, SIMPKINS, SO YOU'VE TURNED UP, HAVE YOU?"
+
+_Simpkins._ "YES, SERGEANT. BUT YOU ARE LUCKY TO GET ME. WHAT WITH
+DOMESTIC TROUBLE AND ALL THAT DELUGE OF RAIN I NEARLY MADE A SEPARATE
+PEACE."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BUCEPHALUS AND THE ROAD-HOGS.
+
+When Miss Ropes asked at breakfast how many of us would like to watch
+the very last cricket-match of the season at Lumsdale, practically the
+entire hospital held up its hand, and it was found that the two cars
+could not accommodate us all. It was therefore settled that Haynes (who
+said he knew the moves) should drive Ansell and me over in the
+governess-cart.
+
+It was also settled that the crew of the governess-cart should have an
+early cold lunch and start an hour before the cars; thus (it was
+calculated) we should all arrive at the cricket-ground fairly well
+together. This did not take Haynes' driving into account. We started
+from the door at a very satisfactory pace, probably because Bucephalus,
+the fat pony, objected to the enthusiasm of our send-off. When we
+reached the road he dropped into an amble so gentle that we decided that
+he had really been running away in the drive. Next, taking advantage of
+an almost imperceptible upward slope, he began to walk. Haynes clucked
+at him and flapped the reins, but this had no effect beyond steering
+Bucephalus into the left-hand ditch.
+
+"I thought you said you knew the moves," remarked Ansell. "Surely this
+is wrong?"
+
+"The bally beast's lopsided," said Haynes with heat. "One side of his
+mouth's hard and the other soft."
+
+"The difficulty being," I suggested as we lurched across the road into
+the other ditch, "to discover which is which.... Now you're straight.
+We'd better trot. It's only a one-day match."
+
+Haynes used the ancient whip, which had as much effect as tickling a
+rhinoceros with a feather.
+
+"Goad him with a penknife," suggested Ansell unfeelingly.
+
+"There must be some way," said Haynes. "Because they _do_ trot, you
+know."
+
+"Speaking as one ignorant amateur to another," I asked, "isn't the right
+thing to pull gently on the reins and then slacken? You go on doing it
+till the animal gets your meaning. Try it."
+
+Haynes tried it, and Bucephalus stopped dead. Repetition of the
+treatment simply produced a tendency to back.
+
+"For heaven's sake don't lose any of the ground we've gained," said
+Ansell. "Let's get on, if only at a walk."
+
+"We shall have to tow him," decided Haynes. He got out and hauled at the
+bridle, but Bucephalus refused to budge.
+
+"This," said Ansell, becoming suddenly business-like, "is where the Boy
+Hero modestly but firmly takes charge. Jump in."
+
+He picked up the reins and, though he apparently did nothing in
+particular with them, Bucephalus came to life at once and broke into a
+lumbering trot.
+
+"You silly chump, why didn't you say you could drive?" asked Haynes.
+
+"Nobody asked me," said the Boy Hero modestly, "and I was shy."
+
+At the time when we had been scheduled to reach the cricket-ground we
+had still a mile to go along a narrow leafy road, hardly more than a
+lane. The cars were overdue, and Haynes, whose haughty spirit could not
+brook the idea of being passed by jeering plutocrats, propounded a
+scheme.
+
+"They can't pass us unless we go into the ditch," he explained. "So when
+they come we'll pretend to be asleep, take up the middle of the road,
+and simply ignore them. We'll get there first, after all."
+
+A moment later we heard the buzz of engines. I took a hurried glance
+round and saw the sunlight on brasswork as the car came round a distant
+corner.
+
+"It's them," I said.
+
+The reins dropped slackly on Bucephalus's back and he slowed to a walk.
+Inside the governess-cart all was somnolent peace. Behind us the car was
+already beginning to make remarks on one of those abusive
+press-the-button horns. "You FOOL! You FOOL! Get OUT o' the way! Get OUT
+o' the way!" it said. Then we heard the car slow down and pandemonium
+broke loose. The horn was reinforced by an ordinary hooter, a whistle,
+several human voices and, lastly, an exhaust siren. I stole a glance at
+Ansell and found that he was having a good deal of surreptitious trouble
+in restraining our fiery steed from doing a second bolt.
+
+"I say," whispered Haynes in sudden agitation, "_has_ Miss Ropes an
+exhaust siren?"
+
+"No, she hasn't," Ansell replied in tones of horror. "We've held up the
+wrong car." He looked round. "Good Lord!" he added softly and pulled
+Bucephalus into the ditch. In the car, with a grinning Tommy at the
+wheel, sat two apoplectic generals and a highly explosive brigade-major.
+They came alongside, and I should never be allowed to repeat what they
+said to us. It seemed that by delaying them we had been hindering the
+day's work of the entire Home Forces. We were given to understand that
+it was only the blue bands on our arms which saved us from being
+court-martialled on the spot and shot by the grinning Tommy at dawn.
+Then they passed on.
+
+When our cars did appear a minute or two later we pulled meekly into the
+ditch to let them pass, and could find no better answer to the jeers of
+their occupants than a wan sickly smile apiece.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE TEST OF TYPE.
+
+_(Suggested by these adjacent paragraphs in a daily paper.)_
+
+    "Maj. ----. For conspicuous gallantry and resource. He rallied
+    his men when the left flank was seriously threatened, and by his
+    energy and fine example saved the situation. He subsequently
+    commanded his battalion with great ability. He has displayed
+    marked gallantry in every action in which he has taken part."
+
+    "A London angler, Mr. ----, has caught a roach of 2 lb. 1 oz. in
+    the Lark at Barton Mills, the largest fish of its kind landed
+    from this Suffolk stream for some years."
+
+  Though in these times monopolized by Mars
+    There's not a day that passes but one reads--
+  Sandwiched between unprofitable "pars"
+    And other wholly negligible screeds--
+  Of decorations, crosses, medals, bars,
+    Bestowed for valiant and heroic deeds;
+  Over these records we must often pass
+  Unless we've got a magnifying-glass!
+
+  But if some member of a fishing club
+    In London or the provinces, renowned
+  For prowess with the lob-worm or the grub,
+    Should land a roach of more than half a pound,
+  Then in the leading papers of the hub
+    Full space for that achievement will be found,
+  And clearest type and unaffected rapture
+  Will signalize the epoch-making capture!
+
+  The moral of the episode is plain:
+    If soldiers wish to petrify the nation,
+  Let them--when leave permits--no more disdain
+    To join a Roach or Perch Association,
+  Cull giant gooseberries, and strive to gain
+    Prizes for Blind-fold Pig Delineation.
+  Thus only--not by cross or golden stripe--
+  Will they achieve the honour of big type.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: REPRISALS.
+
+_Competitor (in international contest)._ "THE BLIGHTER'S BIT ME."
+
+_Referee._ "WELL, AIN'T YER GOT NO TEETH OF YER OWN? BOX ON."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SHAKSPEARE AND THE WAR.
+
+[Since the entry of the United States all the English-speaking peoples
+are in alliance for freedom.]
+
+  I think our SHAKSPEARE, gone this many a year
+    To some rich haven where the poets throng
+    And Ruler of Ten Cities wrought in song
+  And spired with rhythmic music, high and clear,
+  Still finds his England something close and dear,
+    Rejoicing when her justice baffles wrong
+    And willing her to wrestle and be strong.
+  I think he bides by England and is near.
+
+  And, in the purpose of his Overlord,
+    His weaving spirit, still in cloudless youth
+  With minstrelsy made perfect, throws a cord
+    That rings the continents in its magic reach
+    To gather all who share his English speech
+  In one firm warrior bond of troth and truth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"LET LAWS AND LEARNING..."
+
+    "I should add that Viscount Harberton sees a chance for his own
+    order in the circumstance that, while the poor man's child is
+    driven to school by the inspector, the rich man can 'boot the
+    spy out,' and so confer on his children the priceless boon of
+    complete illiteracy. Shall we live to see a House of Lords that
+    makes its mark?"--_Observer._
+
+Some of them, we believe, are under the impression that they have done
+so already.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)
+
+Unless you can share with me the sad immunity of the forties, I must
+despair of translating for you the emotion raised in my antique soul by
+the wrapper of a new RIDER HAGGARD story bearing the picture of a Zulu
+and the discovery inside that _Quatermain_ is come again! The tale that
+has so excited me is called, a little ominously, _Finished_ (WARD,
+LOCK), and I could have better loved a cheerier title. The matter is, to
+begin with, an affair of a shady doctor, of I.D.B. and an abduction;
+none of it, I admit, any too absorbing. But about halfway through the
+author, as though sharing my own views upon this part of the plot,
+exchanges (so to speak) the Shady for the Black, and transports us all
+to Zululand. And if you need reminding of what H.R.H. can do with that
+delectable country, I can only say I am sorry for you. Incidentally
+there are some stirring scenes from certain pages of history that the
+glare of these later days has rather faded--Isandhlwana and Rorke's
+Drift among them; as well as the human drama of the feud between
+CETEWAYO (terror of my nursery!) and the witch-doctor _Zikali_. Whether
+the old careless rapture is altogether recovered is another matter; at
+least the jolly unpronounceable names are still there, and the
+picturesque speech. Most of the names, that is; _Allan_ of course, and
+others, but I for one should have welcomed rare _Umslopogaas_--or
+however he is rightly spelt--and _Curtis_, for personal reasons my
+favourite of the gallant company that have so often kept secret
+rendezvous with me behind the unlifted lid of a desk at preparation
+time. And now have we really come at long last to _Finished_? I can only
+hope that Sir H. RIDER HAGGARD doesn't mean it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. HUMPHRY WARD may be numbered amongst the most indefatigable of
+women war-workers. She has now followed up her former success in
+_England's Effort_ with a volume carrying on the story of our part in
+the War under the title of _Towards the Goal_ (MURRAY). The book is
+written in the form of a series of letters addressed to ex-President
+ROOSEVELT, as the onlie begetter both of it and its predecessor. It is
+further equipped with a preface by the hand of this same able and
+clear-sighted gentleman, the chief drawback of which (from my reviewing
+point of view) is that it covers so well the whole ground of
+appreciation as to leave me nothing more to add. "Mrs. Ward writes nobly
+on a noble theme"--_voilà tout!_ Her theme, as I have hinted, is a
+further exposition of Britain's war activities as those have developed
+since the former book was published. In its course Mrs. WARD gives us
+some vivid experiences of her own as a visitor to the Western Front:
+things seen and heard, well calculated (were this needed) to stiffen the
+resolution of the great people to whom her letters are really written.
+_England's Effort_ was, I understand, translated into many tongues (with
+results that can hardly fail of being enormously valuable); _Towards the
+Goal_ should certainly receive the same treatment of which it is well
+worthy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. WILLIAM HARBUTT DAWSON, in his _After War Problems_ (ALLEN AND
+UNWIN), covers, under the four headings, Empire and Citizenship, Natural
+Efficiency, Social Reform, and National Finance and Taxation,
+bewilderingly wide ground, and drives a perhaps rather mandarinish team
+of contributors. Lord HALDANE, for instance, is no longer in the real
+van of educational endeavour, and is it wholly insignificant that his
+chapter on Education appears in the section headed National Efficiency
+rather than in that of Social Reform? It ought not to be difficult to
+give, in the light of these last years, a wider interpretation to
+Patriotism than that expressed by Lord MEATH on lines familiar to his
+public. Sir WILLIAM CHANCE has seen no new sign in the skies in relation
+to the problem of poverty. Sir BENJAMIN BROWNE, whose death all those
+interested in the settlement of the Capital-Labour quarrel must deplore,
+as for all his uncompromising individualism he brought to it a rare
+breadth of view, says much that is of real value, but does not refrain
+from appealing to the fact that the mutual confidence of man and officer
+in battle is a proof of the possibility of a similar confidence in the
+workshop. That confidence must, and can, we dare to believe, eventually
+be established. But the men don't go over the top to put money in the
+Colonel's pocket, and little good is done by exploiting these loose
+analogies and putting on a too easy air of optimism in the face of
+desperately serious and complex problems. But enough of fault-finding,
+which is a poor reward for the serious and generous labours of
+public-spirited men and women. After all, what one reader calls timidity
+of outlook another may care to praise as prudence. Here you will find an
+abundance of safe analysis, wise comment and constructive suggestion
+from a galaxy of accredited authorities.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the early chapters of Mr. WILLIAM HEWLETT'S new story, _The
+Plot-Maker_ (DUCKWORTH), we are introduced to a popular and highly
+successful novelist, named _Coulthard Henderson_, in the emotional
+crisis produced by a sudden doubt as to whether his output of
+best-sellers represented anything in the least approaching actuality.
+You will admit a tragic situation. He meets it by the determination that
+his next book shall be a veritable slice of life, and to this end he
+selects and finances an eligible young man for the purpose of
+vicariously experiencing those emotions, from which age and other causes
+debar the chronicler; in other words, he hires a hero. The worst of this
+excellent idea is that it can hardly be said to originate either with
+_Mr. Henderson_ or Mr. HEWLETT, that credit belonging (I fancy) to the
+late HERBERT FLOWERDEW in a too-little-appreciated masterpiece of
+sensational burlesque called _The Realist_. However, _The Plot-Maker_,
+once set going, develops admirably enough on lines entirely its own. The
+so-much-an-hour hero turns out an engaging young gentleman, but a
+wofully poor protagonist. The situation where (in the midst of whirling
+events) he makes the startling discovery that he himself has been in
+some way switched on to the part of villain is one that you can
+appreciate only at first hand. Certainly if you want (as who does not in
+these days?) an anaesthetic of agreeable nonsense _The Plot-Maker_ is a
+medium that I can cordially recommend: one obvious advantage being that
+you need not try to believe a single word of it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF.
+
+From a publisher's list:--
+
+    "Shells as evidence of the Migrations of Early Culture."
+
+And modern Kultur spreads itself in just the same old way.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Lady Required to Share Rome with another."
+
+    _Staffordshire Sentinel_.
+
+But what about the King of ITALY, not to mention the POPE?
+
+
+[Illustration: _Eastern Potentate (rusticating)_. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA, MY
+DEAR FRIEND, HOW SOOTHING IT IS TO ME TO GET AWAY FROM THE LUXURIOUS AND
+ARTIFICIAL LIFE OF THE COURT AND TO SPEND MY WEEK-ENDS IN QUIET
+RETIREMENT HERE IN THE COUNTRY WHERE A FRIEND MAY DROP IN FOR POT LUCK
+AND TAKE US IN THE ROUGH."]
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL.
+153, SEPT. 12, 1917***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 10594-8.txt or 10594-8.zip *******
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+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153, Sept. 12, 1917, by Various</title>
+<style type="text/css">
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153,
+Sept. 12, 1917, by Various, Edited by Owen Seamen</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153, Sept. 12, 1917</p>
+<p>Author: Various</p>
+<p>Release Date: January 4, 2004  [eBook #10594]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: iso-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 153, SEPT. 12, 1917***</p>
+<br />
+<center><h3>E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram,<br />
+            Punch, or the London Charivari,<br />
+            Sandra Brown,<br />
+            and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</h3></center>
+<br />
+<hr class="full" />
+<h1>PUNCH,<br />
+OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1>
+<h2>Vol. 153.</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>September 12th, 1917.</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>[pg
+183]</span>
+<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2>
+<p>The <i>Cologne Gazette</i> is of the opinion that the American
+troops, when they arrive in France, will be hampered by their
+ignorance of the various languages. But we understand that the
+Americans can shoot in any language.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>A weekly periodical is giving away a bicycle every other week.
+Meanwhile <i>The Daily Telegraph</i> continues to give away a
+Kaiser every day.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>"I decline to have anything to do with the War," said a
+Conscientious Objector to a North of England magistrate, "and I
+resent this interference with my liberty." Indeed he is said to be
+so much annoyed that he intends sending the War Office a jolly
+snappy letter about it.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>CHARLIE CHAPLIN says a gossip writer is coming to England in the
+Autumn. This disposes of the suggestion that arrangements were
+being made for England to be taken over to him.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p><i>Incidentally</i> we notice that CHARLIE CHAPLIN has become a
+naturalised American, with, we presume, permission to use the rank
+of Honorary Britisher.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Before a Northern Tribunal an applicant stated that he was
+engaged in the completion of an invention which would enable dumb
+people to speak or signal with perfection. He was advised, however,
+to concentrate for a while on making certain Germans say
+"Kamerad."</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>An Isle of Wight man has succeeded in growing a vegetable marrow
+which weighs forty-three pounds. To avoid its being mistaken for
+the island he has scratched his name and address on it.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Those in search of a tactless present will bear in mind that Mr.
+MARK HAMBOURG has written a book entitled "How to Play the
+Piano."</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>The great flagstaff at Kew Gardens, which weighs 18 tons and is
+215 feet long, is not to be erected until after the War. This has
+come as a great consolation to certain people who had feared the
+two events would clash.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>In Mid Cheshire there is a scarcity of partridges, but there is
+plenty of other game in Derbyshire. The Mid-Cheshire birds are of
+the opinion that this cannot be too strongly advertised.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Thirteen years after it was posted at Watford a postcard has
+just reached an Ealing lady inviting her to tea, and of course she
+rightly protested that the tea was cold.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>An estate near Goole has been purchased for &pound;118,000, the
+purchaser having decided not to carry out his first intention of
+investing that amount in a couple of boxes of matches.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Herr Erzberger is known among his friends as "The Singing
+Socialist." We are afraid however that if he wants peace he will
+have to whistle for it.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>The Provisional Government in Russia, according to <i>The
+Evening News,</i> has "always regarded an international debate on
+the questions of war and pease as useful." But our Government, not
+being exactly provisional, prefers to go on giving the enemy
+beans.</p>
+<hr />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:33%;"><a href=
+"images/183.png"><img width="100%" src="images/183.png" alt=
+"" /></a> COMFORTING THOUGHT<br />
+When there are no taxis on your return from your holidays:<br />
+<p>"OUR TRUE STRENGTH IS TO KNOW OUR OWN
+WEAKNESS."&mdash;<i>CHARLES KINGSLEY.</i></p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>THE END OF AN EPISODE.</h3>
+<p>I write this in the beginning of a minor tragedy; if indeed the
+severance of any long, helpful and sympathetic association can ever
+be so lightly named. For that is precisely what our intercourse has
+been these many weeks past; one of nervous and quickly roused
+irritation on my part, of swift and gentle ministration on his.</p>
+<p>At least once a day we have met during that period (and
+occasionally, though rarely, more often), usually in those
+before-breakfast hours when the temper of normal man is most
+exacting and uncertain. But his temper never varied; the perfection
+of it was indeed among his finest qualities. Morning after morning,
+throughout a time that, as it chanced, has been full of distress
+and disappointment, would his soothing and infinitely gentle touch
+recall me to content. That stroking caress of his was a thing
+indescribable; one before which the black shadows left by the hours
+of night seemed literally to dissolve and vanish.</p>
+<p>And now the long expected, long dreaded has begun to happen. He,
+too, is turning against me, as so many others of his fellows have
+done in the past. Who knows the reason? What continued roughness on
+my part has at last worn out even him? But for some days now there
+has been no misreading the fatal symptoms&mdash;increasing
+irritability on the one side, harshness turning to blunt
+indifference on the other. And this morning came the unforgivable
+offence, the cut direct.</p>
+<p>That settles it; to-morrow, with a still smarting regret, I
+unwrap a new razor-blade.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>THE WHOLE HOG.</h3>
+<blockquote>["Victorian love-making was at best a sloppy business
+... modern maidens have little use for half measures.... Primitive
+ideas are beginning to assert themselves."&mdash;<i>Daily
+Paper.</i>]</blockquote>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Betty, when you were in your teens</p>
+<p class="i2">And shielded from sensation,</p>
+<p>Despite a lack of ways and means</p>
+<p>In various appropriate scenes</p>
+<p class="i2">I sighed my adoration.</p>
+<p>You did not smile upon my suit;</p>
+<p class="i2">Pallid I grew and pensive;</p>
+<p>My disappointment was acute,</p>
+<p>Life seemed a worthless thing and mute.</p>
+<p>I moped, then tuned my laggard lute</p>
+<p class="i2">And launched a new offensive.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Thus you were wooed in former days</p>
+<p class="i2">When maids were won by waiting;</p>
+<p>The modern lover finds it pays</p>
+<p>To imitate the forceful ways</p>
+<p class="i2">Of prehistoric mating.</p>
+<p>Man is more primitive (a snub</p>
+<p class="i2">Has no effect), so if you</p>
+<p>Should still refuse a certain "sub."</p>
+<p>He will not pine or spurn his grub,</p>
+<p>But, seizing the ancestral club,</p>
+<p class="i2">Into submission biff you.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>MAKING THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS.</h3>
+<blockquote>"As honorary organist at &mdash;&mdash; Wesleyan Church
+he has established a sound and compact business as wholesale grocer
+and Italian warehouseman."&mdash;<i>Provincial
+Paper.</i></blockquote>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"Maid (superior) wanted for lady, gentleman, small
+flat, strong girl, able to assist lady with
+rheumatism."&mdash;<i>Glasgow Herald.</i></blockquote>
+<p>If we hear of a small flat girl we will send her along; but this
+shaped figure is rather out of fashion just now.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a id="page184" name="page184"></a>[pg
+184]</span>
+<h2>THE SUPER-PIPE.</h2>
+<p>When Jackson first joined the jolly old B.E.F. he smoked a pipe.
+He carried it anyhow. Loose in his pocket, mind you. A pipe-bowl at
+his pocket's brim a simple pipe-bowl was to him, and it was nothing
+more. Of course no decent B.E.F. mess could stand that. Jackson was
+told that a pipe was <i>anathema maranatha</i>, which is Greek for
+<i>no bon.</i></p>
+<p>"What will I smoke then?" said Jackson, who was no Englishman.
+We waited for the Intelligence Officer to reply. We knew him. The
+Intelligence Officer said nothing. He drew something from his
+pocket. It was a parcel wrapped in cloth-of-gold. He removed the
+cloth-of-gold and there was discovered a casket, which he unlocked
+with a key attached to his identity disc. Inside the casket was a
+padlocked box, which he opened with a key attached by gold wire to
+his advance pay-book. Inside the box was a roll of silk. To cut it
+all short, he unwound puttee after puttee of careful wrapping till
+he reached a chamois-leather chrysalis, which he handled with
+extreme reverence, and from this he drew something with gentle
+fingers, and set it on the table-cloth before the goggle-eyed
+Jackson.</p>
+<p>"A pipe," said Jackson.</p>
+<p>There was a shriek of horror. The Intelligence Officer fainted.
+Here was wanton sacrilege.</p>
+<p>"Man," said the iron-nerved Bombing Officer, "it's a
+Brownhill."</p>
+<p>"What's a Brownhill?" asked Jackson.</p>
+<p>We gasped. How could we begin to tell him of that West End
+shrine from which issue these lacquered symbols of a New
+Religion?</p>
+<p>The Intelligence Officer was reviving. We looked to him.</p>
+<p>"The prophet Brownhill," he said, "was once a
+tobacconist&mdash;an ordinary tobacconist who sold pipes."</p>
+<p>We shuddered.</p>
+<p>"He discovered one day that man wants more than mere pipes. He
+wants a&mdash;a super-pipe, something to reverence
+and&mdash;er&mdash;look after, you know, as well as to smoke. So he
+invented the Brownhill. It is an <i>affaire de coeur</i>&mdash;an
+affair of art," translated the I.O. proudly. "It is as glossy as a
+chestnut in its native setting, and you can buy furniture polish
+from the prophet Brownhill which will keep it always so. It has its
+year, like a famous vintage, it has a silver wind-pipe, and it
+costs anything up to fifty guineas."</p>
+<p>"D'you smoke it'?" asked Jackson, brutally.</p>
+<p>We gave him up. In awful silence each of us produced his
+wrappings and his caskets, extracted the shining briar, smeared it
+with cosmetics, and polished it more reverently than a peace time
+Guardsman polishes his buttons when warned for duty next day at
+"Buck."</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>And Jackson smoked his pipe in secret. He would take no leaf
+from the book of the Sassenachs.</p>
+<p>And the War went on.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Jackson went on leave. To his deep disgust he had to wait a few
+hours in London on his way to more civilised parts, and fate led
+him idling to Brownhill's. He flattened his Celtic nose on the
+window and stared fascinated at the array of super-pipes displayed
+there. After a furtive glance along the street he crept into the
+temple. A white-coated priest met him. &lt;/&gt;</p>
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm wantin'&mdash;a&mdash;a pipe," said Jackson. He saw
+the priest reel and turn pale to the lips. "I should say a&mdash;a
+Brownhill," he added hastily. The other man gulped, steadied
+himself with an effort, and gave a ghastly smile. If you had walked
+into a temple at Thibet and planked down sixpence and asked for an
+idol wrapped up in brown paper you could not have done a more
+dreadful thing than Jackson had done; but the priest forgave him
+and produced in silence a trayful of Brownhills. Then was Jackson
+like unto ELIA'S little Chinese boy with "the crackling." He
+touched a briar and was converted. He stroked them as though they
+were kittens, bought ten of them, a pound of polish, fifty silver
+wind-pipes and a bale of chamois-leather. The priest took a deep
+breath.</p>
+<p>"You are a full-blooded man, Sir," said he, "if you will excuse
+me saying so, and you should smoke in your new Brownhills a mixture
+which has a proportion of Latakia to Virginian of one to
+nineteen&mdash;a small percentage of glycerine and cucumber being
+added because you have red hair, and the whole submitted to a
+pressure of eighteen hundred foot-pounds to the square millimetre,
+under violet rays. This will be known as 'Your Mixture,' Number
+56785-6/11, and will be supplied to no one else on earth, except
+under penalty of death.</p>
+<p>"I will take a ton," said Jackson with glazing eyes.</p>
+<p>This was a man after the priest's own heart. He took another
+deep breath and dived into the strong-room. He returned under the
+escort of ten armed men, each of them chained by the wrist to an
+iron box, which he unlocked with difficulty. Inside the iron box
+was a thing which Jackson a few months ago would have called a
+pipe. He knew better now. In awful silence the priest lifted it
+from its satin bed. "This," he whispered, "was once smoked by
+Brownhill himself."</p>
+<p>Jackson put out a hand to take it. The priest hesitated, then
+laid it gently on his customer's palm.</p>
+<p>And Jackson dropped it.</p>
+<p>Jackson has never been heard of since.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>THE FAIRIES HAVE NEVER A PENNY TO SPEND.</h3>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The fairies have never a penny to spend,</p>
+<p class="i2">They haven't a thing put by,</p>
+<p>But theirs is the dower of bird and of flower,</p>
+<p class="i2">And theirs are the earth and the sky.</p>
+<p>And though you should live in a palace of gold</p>
+<p class="i2">Or sleep in a dried-up ditch,</p>
+<p>You could never be poor as the fairies are,</p>
+<p class="i6">And never as rich.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Since ever and ever the world began</p>
+<p class="i2">They have danced like a ribbon of flame,</p>
+<p>They have sung their song through the centuries long,</p>
+<p class="i2">And yet it is never the same.</p>
+<p>And though you be foolish or though you be wise,</p>
+<p class="i2">With hair of silver or gold,</p>
+<p>You could never be young as the fairies are</p>
+<p class="i6">And never as old.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p>R. F.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>RARA AVIS.</h3>
+<p>From a cigarette-card:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>
+<h5>"REED WARBLER.</h5>
+<h6><i>"Acrocephalus streperus.</i></h6>
+"This bird is found in nearly every part of the British Islands. It
+builds a nest about a foot off the ground in the reed beds, and is
+formed of grass, horse hair and sometimes feathers."</blockquote>
+<hr />
+<p>From a list of medallists of the new Order of the British
+Empire:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>"G. P. Hamlet.&mdash;For courage in persisting with
+dangerous work, with a certainty of suffering from poisoning as a
+result."</blockquote>
+<p>Just like his illustrious namesake.</p>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"Melbourne, Friday.<br />
+<br />
+"The House of Representatives to-day passed the second reading of
+the War Times Profits Tax Assessment Bill. The tax will be 50 per
+cent. for the year ending June 30, 191161, and 75 per cent. for
+afterwards.&mdash;Reuter."<br />
+<br />
+<i>Aberdeen Paper.</i></blockquote>
+<p>Well, well, we need not worry.</p>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"What is being fought out is a long-drawn battle for
+the important shipping port of Trieste, with the whole of the
+railway and road communications of the Iberian Peninsula."<br />
+<i>The People.</i></blockquote>
+<p>Rather a shock for Madrid.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>[pg
+185]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/185.png"><img width="100%" src="images/185.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<h3>THE REVERSE OF THE MEDAL.</h3>
+<p>OPTIMISTIC GERMAN <i>(reading paper).</i> "THIS IS KOLOSSAL! OUR
+IRRESISTIBLE AIRMEN HAVE AGAIN, FOR THE TWENTIETH TIME, DESTROYED
+LONDON."</p>
+<p>GLOOMY DITTO. "THAT BEING SO, LET'S HOPE THEY'LL STOP THOSE
+CURSED BRITISH AIRMEN FROM BOMBING OUR LINES EVERY DAY AND
+NIGHT."</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>[pg
+186]</span>
+<h2>A STUDY IN SYMMETRY.</h2>
+<p>The following story, however improbable it may seem to you, is
+true.</p>
+<p>Once upon a time there was an artist with historical leanings
+not unassociated with the desire for pelf&mdash;pelf being, even to
+idealists, what petrol is to a car. The blend brought him one day
+to Portsmouth, where the <i>Victory</i> lies, with the honourable
+purpose of painting a picture of that famous ship with NELSON on
+board. What the ADMIRAL was doing I cannot say&mdash;most probably
+dying&mdash;but the artist's intention was to make the work as
+attractive as might be and thus draw a little profit from the wave
+of naval enthusiasm which was then passing over the country; for
+not only was the picture itself to be saleable, but reproductions
+were to be made of it.</p>
+<p>Permission having been obtained from the authorities, the artist
+boarded the <i>Victory</i>, set up his easel on her deck and
+settled down to his task, the monotony of which was pleasantly
+alleviated by the chatter of the old salts who guard the ship and
+act as guides to the tourists who visit her. All of these estimable
+men not only possessing views on art, but having come by now to the
+firm belief that they had fought with NELSON, their criticisms were
+not too easily combated and the artist hadn't a tedious moment.
+Thus, painting, conversing and learning (as one can learn only from
+a trained imparter of information), three or four days passed
+quickly away and the picture was done.</p>
+<p>So far there has been nothing&mdash;has there?&mdash;to strain
+credulity. No. But a time will come&mdash;is, in fact, upon us.</p>
+<p>On the evening of the last day, as the artist was sitting at
+early dinner with a friend before catching the London train, his
+remarks turned (as an artist's sometimes will) upon the work upon
+which he had just been engaged. He expressed satisfaction with it
+in the main, but could not, he said, help feeling that its chances
+of becoming a real success would be sensibly increased if he could
+find as a model for the central figure some one whose resemblance
+to NELSON was noticeable.</p>
+<p>"There are, of course," he went on, "at the same time&mdash;that
+is to say, among contemporaries&mdash;no two faces exactly alike.
+That is an axiom. Strange as it may sound, among all the millions
+of countenances with two eyes, a nose in the middle and a mouth
+below it, some difference exists in each. That is, as I say, among
+contemporaries: in the world at this moment in which I am speaking.
+But," he continued, warming to his subject, for, as you will have
+already gathered, he was not one of the taciturn brush-brotherhood,
+"after the lapse of years I see no reason why nature should not
+begin precisely to reproduce physiognomies and so save herself the
+trouble of for ever diversifying them. That being so&mdash;and
+surely the hypothesis is not too far-fetched"&mdash;here his friend
+said, "No, not at all&mdash;oh no!"&mdash;"why," the artist
+continued, "should there not be at this moment, more than a century
+later, some one whose resemblance to NELSON is exact? He would not
+be necessarily a naval man&mdash;probably, indeed, not, for
+NELSON's face was not characteristic of the sea&mdash;but whoever
+he was, even if he were an archbishop, I," said the painter firmly,
+"should not hesitate to go up to him and ask him to sit to me."</p>
+<p>The friend agreed that this was a very proper attitude and that
+it betokened true sincerity of purpose.</p>
+<p>"NELSON's face," the painter continued, "was an uncommon one. So
+large and so mobile a mouth is rare. But I have no doubt that a
+duplicate exists, and no matter who is the owner of it, even were
+he an archbishop, I should not hesitate to go up and ask him to sit
+to me."</p>
+<p>(For the benefit of any feminine reader of this veracious
+history I should say that the repetition which she has just noticed
+is not an accident, but has been carefully set down. It is an
+attempt to give verisimilitude to the conversation&mdash;because
+men always say things like that twice.)</p>
+<p>The friend again remarked that the painter's resolve did him
+infinite credit, and the two started for the station, still
+conversing on the same theme.</p>
+<p>On entering their carriage the first thing to take their
+attention was a quiet little man in black, who was the absolute
+double of the hero of Trafalgar.</p>
+<p>"Good gracious!" whispered the painter excitedly, "do you see
+that? There's the very man. The likeness to NELSON is astonishing.
+I never saw anything like it. I don't care who he is, I must tackle
+him. It's the most extraordinary chance that ever occurred."</p>
+<p>Assuming his most silky and deferential manner&mdash;for, though
+clearly not an archbishop, unless in mufti, this might yet be a
+person of importance&mdash;the painter approached the stranger and
+tendered a card.</p>
+<p>"I trust, Sir, that you will excuse me," he began, "for the
+liberty I am taking, but I am an artist and I happen to be engaged
+on a picture of NELSON on the <i>Victory</i>. I have all the
+accessories and so forth, but what I very seriously need is a brief
+sitting from some gentleman with a likeness to the great little
+Admiral. Such, Sir, as yourself. It may be news to you&mdash;it
+probably is&mdash;but you, Sir, if I may say so, are so like the
+famous and immortal warrior as almost to take one's breath away. It
+is astonishing, wonderful! Might I&mdash;would it be&mdash;could
+you&mdash;would you, Sir, be so very kind as to allow me to paint
+you? I would, of course, make every effort not to inconvenience
+you&mdash;I would arrange so that your time should be mine."</p>
+<p>"Of course I will, guvnor," said the man. "I'm a professional
+model and I've been sitting for NELSON for years. Why, I've been
+doing it for an artist this very afternoon."</p>
+<hr />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href=
+"images/186.png"><img width="100%" src="images/186.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<h3>Our Restricted Coast Amusements.</h3>
+<p><i>Vendor</i>. "ALL THE OFFICIAL 'OLIDAY FUN. FLY THE PATRIOTIC
+KITES AND ANNOY THE GOTHAS!</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>[pg
+187]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/187.png"><img width="100%" src="images/187.png" alt=
+"" /></a> <i>Physical Drill Instructor (to Weak-kneed Recruit)</i>.
+"NAH THEN! IF YOU'RE A-GOING TER JUMP&mdash;<i>JUMP!"</i></div>
+<hr />
+<h3>A LOST LAND.</h3>
+<h5>(TO GERMANY.)</h5>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A childhood land of mountain ways,</p>
+<p>Where earthy gnomes and forest fays,</p>
+<p>Kind foolish giants, gentle bears,</p>
+<p>Sport with the peasant as he fares</p>
+<p>Affrighted through the forest glades,</p>
+<p>And lead sweet wistful little maids</p>
+<p>Lost in the woods, forlorn, alone,</p>
+<p>To princely lovers and a throne.</p>
+<hr class="left" />
+<p>Dear haunted land of gorge and glen,</p>
+<p>Ah me! the dreams, the dreams of men!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A learned land of wise old books</p>
+<p>And men with meditative looks,</p>
+<p>Who move in quaint red-gabled towns</p>
+<p>And sit in gravely-folded gowns,</p>
+<p>Divining in deep-laden speech</p>
+<p>The world's supreme arcana&mdash;each</p>
+<p>A homely god to listening Youth</p>
+<p>Eager to tear the veil of Truth;</p>
+<hr class="left" />
+<p>Mild votaries of book and pen&mdash;</p>
+<p>Alas, the dreams, the dreams of men!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>A music land, whose life is wrought</p>
+<p>In movements of melodious thought;</p>
+<p>In symphony, great wave on wave&mdash;</p>
+<p>Or fugue, elusive, swift, and grave;</p>
+<p>A singing land, whose lyric rhymes</p>
+<p>Float on the air like village chimes:</p>
+<p>Music and Verse&mdash;the deepest part</p>
+<p>Of a whole nation's thinking heart!</p>
+<hr class="left" />
+<p>Oh land of Now, oh land of Then!</p>
+<p>Dear God! the dreams, the dreams of men!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Slave nation in a land of hate,</p>
+<p>Where are the things that made you great?</p>
+<p>Child-hearted once&mdash;oh, deep defiled,</p>
+<p>Dare you look now upon a child?</p>
+<p>Your lore&mdash;a hideous mask wherein</p>
+<p>Self-worship hides its monstrous sin:&mdash;</p>
+<p>Music and verse, divinely wed&mdash;</p>
+<p>How can these live where love is dead?</p>
+<hr class="left" />
+<p>Oh depths beneath sweet human ken,</p>
+<p>God help the dreams, the dreams of men!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"The Blessington Papers are included with all their
+atmosphere of distinguished High Bohemia. Among them are some
+interesting Disraeli letters&mdash;he was ever her staunch friend
+from the early 'thirties to the late 'forties, when his son had
+risen and her's&mdash;how brilliant!&mdash;had
+set."&mdash;<i>Saturday Review</i>.</blockquote>
+<p>And up to the present we had been under the impression that both
+these distinguished persons were childless.</p>
+<hr />
+HINT FOR HORTICULTURISTS.
+<blockquote>"Mr. &mdash;&mdash;, undertaker, of Temuka, improved
+his plant by the purchase of a new hearse."&mdash;<i>Timaru Herald
+(New Zealand)</i>.</blockquote>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"Mr. &mdash;&mdash; hopes shortly to be seen again in
+revue in the Wet End."&mdash;<i>Pall Mall Gazette</i>.</blockquote>
+<p>Or, as the CENSOR would put it, "somewhere in England."</p>
+<hr />
+<blockquote><i>Daily Mail</i> (Ordinary Edition), 3 September,
+1917: "Lord Halsbury is 92 to-day."<br />
+<br />
+<i>Times</i> (Late War Edition), 3 September, 1917: "The Earl of
+Halsbury is 94 to-day."</blockquote>
+<p>Yet, from personal observation, one would never believe that the
+EX-LORD CHANCELLOR was ageing so rapidly.</p>
+<hr />
+<p>From "German Official":&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>"With the use of numerous tanks and aeroplanes, flying
+at a low altitude, the English infantry soon after advanced to the
+attack on this front."&mdash;<i>Evening Paper</i>.</blockquote>
+<p>Now that the enemy has given away the secret of our new weapon
+the CENSOR might let us know more of our flying Tanks.</p>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"Prisoner then seized her round the throat with both
+hands and hit her on the head with a steel
+case-opener."&mdash;<i>Daily Paper</i>.</blockquote>
+<p>Which, presumably, he carried in his teeth.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>[pg
+188]</span>
+<h3>THE SUNFLOWER.</h3>
+<p>"Have you," said Francesca, "seen our sunflowers lately?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," I said, "I've kept an eye on them occasionally. It's a
+bit difficult, by the way, not to see them, isn't it?"</p>
+<p>"Well," she said, "perhaps they are rather striking."</p>
+<p>"Striking!" I said. "I never heard a more inadequate word. I
+call them simply overwhelming&mdash;the steam-rollers of the
+vegetable world. Look at their great yellow open faces."</p>
+<p>"I never," said Francesca, "saw a steam-roller with a face.
+You're mixing your metaphors."</p>
+<p>"And," I said, "I shall go on mixing them as long as you grow
+sunflowers. It's the very least a man can do by way of
+protest."</p>
+<p>"I don't know why you should want to protest. The seed makes
+very good chicken-food."</p>
+<p>"Yes, I know," I said, "that's what you always said."</p>
+<p>"And I bet," she said, "you've repeated it. When you've met the
+tame Generals and Colonels at your club, and they've boasted to you
+about their potatoes, I know you've countered them with the story
+of how you've turned the whole of your lawn into a bed of
+sunflowers calculated to drive the most obstinate hen into laying
+two eggs a day, rain or shine."</p>
+<p>"I admit," I said, "that I may have mentioned the matter
+casually, but I never thought the things were going to be like
+this. When I first knew them and talked about them they were tender
+little shoots of green just modestly showing above the ground, and
+now they're a forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlock
+aren't in it with this impenetrable jungle liberally blotched with
+yellow, this so-called sunflower patch."</p>
+<p>"What would you call it," she said, "if you didn't call it
+sunflower?"</p>
+<p>"I should call it a beast of prey," I said. "A sunflower seems
+to me to be more like a tiger than anything else."</p>
+<p>"It was a steam-roller about a minute ago."</p>
+<p>"Yes," I said, "it was&mdash;a tigerish steam-roller."</p>
+<p>"How interesting," she said. "I have not met one quite like
+that."</p>
+<p>"That," I said, "is because your eye isn't properly poetical.
+It's blocked with chicken-food and other utilitarian objects."</p>
+<p>"I must," she said, "consult an oculist. Perhaps he will give me
+glasses which will unblock my eye and make me see tigers in the
+garden."</p>
+<p>"No," I said, "you will have to do it for yourself. For such an
+eye as yours even the best oculists are unavailing."</p>
+<p>"I might," she said, "improve if I read poetry at home. Has any
+poet written about sunflowers?"</p>
+<p>"Yes," I said, "BLAKE did. He was quite mad, and he wrote a poem
+to a sunflower: 'Ah! Sunflower! Weary of time.' That's how it
+begins."</p>
+<p>"Weary of time!" she said scornfully. "That's no good to me. I'm
+weary of having no time at all to myself."</p>
+<p>"That shows," I said, "that you're not a sunflower."</p>
+<p>"Thank heaven for that," she said. "It's enough to have four
+children to look after&mdash;five including yourself."</p>
+<p>"My dear Francesca," I said, "how charming you are to count me
+as a child! I shall really begin to feel as if there were golden
+threads among the silver."</p>
+<p>"Tut-tut," she said, "you're not so grey as all that."</p>
+<p>"Yes, I am," I said, "quite as grey as all that and much greyer;
+only we don't talk about it."</p>
+<p>"But we <i>do</i> talk about sunflowers," she said, "don't
+we?"</p>
+<p>"If you'll promise to have the beastly glaring things dug
+up&mdash;"</p>
+<p>"Not," she said, "before we've extracted from them their last
+pip of chicken-food."</p>
+<p>"Well, anyhow," I said, "as soon as possible. If you'll promise
+to do that I'll promise never to mention them again."</p>
+<p>"But you'll lose your reputation with the Generals and
+Colonels."</p>
+<p>"I don't mind that," I said, "if I can only rid the garden of
+their detested presence."</p>
+<p>"My golden-threaded boy," said Francesca, "it shall be as you
+desire."</p>
+<p>R. C. L.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>CONSTABLE JINKS.</h3>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Our village policeman is tall and well-grown,</p>
+<p>He stands six feet two and he weighs sixteen stone;</p>
+<p>His gait is majestic, his visage serene,</p>
+<p>And his boots are the biggest that ever I've seen.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Fame sealed his renown with a definite stamp</p>
+<p>When two German waiters escaped from a camp.</p>
+<p>Unaided he captured those runaway Huns</p>
+<p>Who had lived for a week on three half-penny buns.</p>
+<p>When a derelict porpoise was cast on the shore</p>
+<p>Our village policeman was much to the fore;</p>
+<p>He measured the beast from its tip to its tail,</p>
+<p>And blandly pronounced it "an undersized whale."</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When a small boy was flying his kite on the links</p>
+<p>It was promptly impounded by Constable Jinks,</p>
+<p>Who astutely remarked that it might have been seen</p>
+<p>By the vigilant crew of a Hun submarine.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>It is sometimes alleged that great valour he showed</p>
+<p>When he chased a mad cow for three miles on the road;</p>
+<p>But there's also another account of the hunt</p>
+<p>With a four-legged pursuer, a biped in front.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>If your house has been robbed and his counsel you seek</p>
+<p>He's sure to look in&mdash;in the course of the week,</p>
+<p>When his massive appearance will comfort your cook,</p>
+<p>Though he fails in the bringing of culprits to book.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>His <i>obiter dicta</i> on life and the law</p>
+<p>Set our ribald young folk in a frequent guffaw;</p>
+<p>But the elders repose an implicit belief</p>
+<p>In so splendid a product of beer and of beef.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>He's the strongest and solidest man in the place,</p>
+<p>Nothing&mdash;short of mad cattle&mdash;can quicken his
+pace;</p>
+<p>His moustache would do credit to any dragoon,</p>
+<p>And his voice is as deep as a double bassoon.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>His complexion is perfect, his uniform neat,</p>
+<p>He rivets all eyes as he stalks down the street;</p>
+<p>And I doubt if his critics will ever complain</p>
+<p>Of his being a little deficient in brain.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>For he's more than a man; he's a part of the map;</p>
+<p>His going would cause a deplorable gap;</p>
+<p>And the village would suffer as heavy a slump</p>
+<p>As it would from the loss of the old parish pump.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>A HAPPY JUXTAPOSITION.</h3>
+<blockquote>"CHEAPER MATCHES. | FRESH LIGHT ON THE KAISER'S
+PLOTS."<br />
+<i>Daily Mirror.</i></blockquote>
+<p>From the report of a Royal investiture:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>"The first officer to mount the dais was Major
+&mdash;&mdash;, who wore the broad-brimmed slouch hat of the
+Austrian Infantry."<br />
+<i>North China Daily News.</i></blockquote>
+<p>A souvenir, of course.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>[pg
+189]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/189.png"><img width="100%" src="images/189.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<h3>SUPPLY AND DEMAND.</h3>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>[pg
+190]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/190.png"><img width="100%" src="images/190.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<i>Mother (to maid, who has offered Marjorie some jam).</i> "OH
+NO, THANK YOU, NOT WITH THE <i>FIRST</i> PIECE."<br />
+<i>Marjorie.</i> "BUT, MUMMY, I HAVE GIVEN UP HAVING A FIRST
+PIECE NOW&mdash;WAR ECONOMY."
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>THE TRENCH CODE.</h3>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Ah! with what awe, what infantile impatience,</p>
+<p class="i2">We eyed the artifice when issued out,</p>
+<p>And racked our brains about the Regulations,</p>
+<p class="i2">And tried to think we had them free from doubt!</p>
+<p>As Rome's old Fathers, reverently leaning</p>
+<p class="i2">In secret cellars o'er the Sibyl's strain,</p>
+<p class="i6">Beyond the fact that several pars</p>
+<p class="i6">Had something vague to do with Mars,</p>
+<p>Failed, as a rule, to find the smallest meaning,</p>
+<p class="i2">But told the plebs the oracle was plain.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>So did we study it, ourselves deceiving,</p>
+<p class="i2">In hope to say, "We have no rations here,"</p>
+<p>Or, "Please, Brigade, this regiment wants relieving,"</p>
+<p class="i2">And "Thank you for the bombs&mdash;but why no
+beer?"</p>
+<p>And wondered always, with a hint of presage,</p>
+<p class="i2">Since never word emerged as it was planned,</p>
+<p class="i6">If it was Hermes, Lord of Craft,</p>
+<p class="i6">Compiled the code, or someone daft,</p>
+<p>So that no mortal could compose a message</p>
+<p class="i2">Which anybody else could understand.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Too soon the Staff, to spoil our tiny slumbers,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or, as they said, to certify our skill,</p>
+<p>Sent us a screed, all signs and magic numbers,</p>
+<p class="i2">And what it signified is mystery still.</p>
+<p>We flung them back a message yet more mazy</p>
+<p class="i2">To say we weren't unravelling their own,</p>
+<p class="i6">And marked it <i>urgent</i>, and designed</p>
+<p class="i6">That it should reach them while they dined.</p>
+<p>All night they toiled, till half the crowd were crazy</p>
+<p class="i2">And bade us breathe its burthen o'er the 'phone.</p>
+</div>
+<hr class="left" />
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But now they want it back&mdash;<i>and it is missing!</i></p>
+<p class="i2">And shall one patriot heart withhold a throb?</p>
+<p>For four high officers have been here, hissing,</p>
+<p class="i2">And plainly panicky about their job.</p>
+<p>I know they think some dark, deluded bandit</p>
+<p class="i2">Has gone and given it to KAISER BILL.</p>
+<p class="i6">But though I'm grieved the General's cross,</p>
+<p class="i6">I have no qualms about the loss&mdash;</p>
+<p>If clever men like us can't understand it,</p>
+<p class="i2">I don't suppose the Wilhelmstrasse will!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<p>A. P. H.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>SPREAD OF THE TEMPERANCE MOVEMENT.</h3>
+<blockquote>"I, J.A.H. De la Bere, of Woolsevy Rectory, Morchard
+Bishop, Devon, desire to Alter my Surname to De la
+Fontaine."&mdash;<i>Times.</i></blockquote>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>
+<center>"WANTED</center>
+end August in Swiss family (2 persons) living in villa near
+Lausanne
+<center>NURSERY'S MAID</center>
+able to saw, iron attend at table and take entire care of healthy
+baby 19 months old Good English accent serious references." <i>La
+Tribune de Lausanne.</i></blockquote>
+<p>We are glad to hear that the baby has a good English accent; he
+will be able to employ it with effect when the Nursery's Maid
+begins to saw and iron him.</p>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"In the cases in which the surgeon his obliged to vast
+empty a bone so that offers then itself difficulties therapeuticals
+not little because of pus and consequenty becauses of impossibility
+of transplantations, plastics, plombages ecc., the A. propose to go
+on the bone with specials inesions, not on the surface when the
+bone is most superficial, but from the surface in which are
+aboundings and easily cessible wet tissue, removing the margin of
+the bone's cavity and mathing in mode as, by cause of repaidis
+process, this tissue by hemselves adhere to a ground of cavity and
+full it."&mdash;<i>La Clinica Chirurgica.</i></blockquote>
+<p>That makes it perfectly clear.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>[pg
+191]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/191.png"><img width="100%" src="images/191.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<h3>"AVANTI, SAVOIA!"</h3>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>[pg
+192]</span>
+<h2>A DAUGHTER OF THE BACK STEPPES.</h2>
+<blockquote class="note"><i>(Russia may not yet be quite
+sufficiently herself to be the martial ally that we could desire,
+but she still continues to send us the most delightful fiction. Mr.
+PUNCH is privileged in being able to offer his readers the opening
+of a new and fascinating story translated from the Russian of
+Ghastlilkoff.)</i></blockquote>
+<p>I was born in the year 18&mdash;, and I have never ceased to
+regret it. I lived with my grandmother. She was called Natasha. I
+do not know why. She had a large mole on her left cheek. Often she
+would embrace me with tears and lament over me, crying, "My little
+sad one, my little lonely one!" Yet I was not sad; I had too many
+griefs. Nor was I lonely, for I had no playmates.</p>
+<p>Often my grandmother told me I was ugly. I had no mirror, so I
+believed her. When I was sixteen a man I met in the street went mad
+for love of me and cut his throat. For the first time in my life I
+wondered if my grandmother always spoke the truth. I went home and
+wept, but when she asked me why I could not tell her.</p>
+<p>Our house was quite dark. It had three rooms leading in and out
+of one another, and no windows. There was not much fresh air. Every
+morning my grandmother went out to buy otchkza and pickled onions.
+The man who sold them was very old. He had a cast in each eye. He
+inquired of my grandmother if she would allow him to be my husband,
+but she refused. His name I do not remember.</p>
+<p>Our neighbours were very pleasant people, kindly and simple.
+There was a half-witted youth called Krop. He used to fill his
+mouth with large brass-headed nails. I did not dare to go near him,
+for he always tried to bite my arms. One day I learned that he had
+died. My grandmother bought me black silk mittens to wear at his
+funeral. I was very proud, and ran out into the road to show them
+to the other children. But in my haste I split them across from
+seam to seam, and my grandmother whipped me and put me to bed.</p>
+<p>My grandmother's chief friend was a woman who sold toasted
+cheese. It was her custom to bring round the delicacy on a small
+hand-cart and sell to the children for a few kopecks. This woman
+was reputed to be very rich. She was not beautiful, for she had no
+teeth, and had hair on her face. The first time I saw her I ran
+into the house and hid behind the large barrel of butter-milk. My
+grandmother took me by the ear and led me to her friend.</p>
+<p>"This is Ilonoka," she said. "She is a good girl."</p>
+<p>I remember that I cried very loud.</p>
+<p>Afterwards my grandmother told me that perhaps the woman would
+leave me all her money. Next time she came I wished to speak to
+her, but unfortunately I had a quinsy. When the woman eventually
+died it was discovered that she had been destitute for a long time.
+She left her hand-cart by will to my grandmother, and in her
+disappointment my grandmother beat me over the head with it. Soon
+afterwards my hair began to come out, and my grandmother said it
+was time I found a husband.</p>
+<p>Accordingly she went next door, where lived a woman with five
+sons. They were all out except one, and he had a sore leg. She
+brought him to me, and I cried very bitterly. He also. His name was
+Ivan, and I wished it had been Peter.</p>
+<p>The next day we were betrothed, and all our friends came to eat
+the feast that my grandmother provided. A school-fellow of mine, a
+very beautiful girl, was angry because I had a husband and not she.
+She scratched my face, and the blood ran on to my dress. Our
+friends congratulated us, and when they had gone my grandmother
+said it had been a great success. She and I finished what was left
+of the feast and went to bed. I remember that my feet were very
+cold, and when I fell asleep I dreamed that my betrothed's name was
+Peter. When I awoke I cried very loud, and my grandmother slapped
+my cheeks.</p>
+<p>Shortly afterwards she died, and I went to live with my uncle,
+who was a pawnbroker in Moscow.</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>THE LONG-FACED CHUMS.</h2>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">When Alexander won the world he knew not bombs
+nor guns,<br />
+<br />
+<p>His simple forms of frightfulness were quite unlike the
+Huns';</p>
+<p>'Twas not by barking mortars that the pushful CAESAR scored;</p>
+<p>He trusted close formations and the silent stabbing sword.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>When ROLAND'S rearguard turned at bay, and from the furious
+press</p>
+<p>The scuppered Paladin sent forth his famous S.O.S.,</p>
+<p>Scared Roncesvalles rang loud with war, as misty legends
+tell,</p>
+<p>But echo's ear was spared the shriek and crash of bursting
+shell.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>So could you meet the shades of those whose prowess made
+Romance,</p>
+<p>You'd find them only puzzled by your tales of stunts in
+France;</p>
+<p>You'd have to cut the business out, and be content to chat</p>
+<p>Of rations, grub, and officers&mdash;such odds and ends as
+that,</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Unless you chanced to entertain some true rough-rider's
+ghost,</p>
+<p>Who galloped after HANNIBAL, or with the Parthian host,</p>
+<p>Some curled Assyrian prince who pranced, bareback, along a
+frieze&mdash;</p>
+<p>Or one of RUPERT'S <i>beaux sabreurs</i>&mdash;a
+horseman&mdash;whom you please.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>With chosen spirits such as those your talk need never end</p>
+<p>If you are worthy of your spurs and count a horse your
+friend.</p>
+<p>Just ask them "Did you clip trace-high?" or "Did you chaff your
+hay?"</p>
+<p>Or boast about the gee you ride, and they'll have lots to
+say.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Cut out the talk of battle's din, of whizz-bangs and of
+crumps,</p>
+<p>Of bombs and gas and hand-grenades, of mines and blazing
+dumps;</p>
+<p>If you would wake their sympathy and warm their hearts
+indeed</p>
+<p>Describe a Squadron watering, and then the fuss at "Feed!"</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>That lively bustle has a charm to wake a mummy's ear</p>
+<p>Who, ere the Pyramids were planned, was mustered charioteer;</p>
+<p>And many a horseman's spirit thrills by Lethe's drowsy brink</p>
+<p>When in a strange, familiar dream his Troop comes down to
+drink!</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<p>From "The Story of the Haldane Missions":&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>"The Kaiser laughingly remarked that he had better have
+the high chair (in which the Kaiser usually sat at his council
+meetings). He also gave Lord Haldane an Imperial cigar.... While
+discussing the naval question, the Kaiser took a copy of the new
+Naval Bill out of his pocket and handed it to Lord Haldane, who
+transferred it to his pocket without looking at it."&mdash;<i>Daily
+Chronicle.</i></blockquote>
+<p>He probably thought it was another of the Imperial cigars.</p>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" id="page193"></a>[pg
+193]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/193.png"><img width="100%" src="images/193.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<p>Grocer-fiend (who has treated three preceding customers to (a)
+"We ain't got no sugar;" (b) "We have none, Madam;" and (c) "No
+sugar in the shop'&mdash;to boy). "BE OFF. WE'VE GOT NO SUGAR!"</p>
+<p><i>Boy.</i> "I DIDN'T ASK FOR NO SUGAR. I WANT A PENNORTH O'
+SODA&mdash;AN' THAT'S TAKEN THE' BLOOMING SWANK OUT OF YOU, AIN'T
+IT?"</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>A STRAIGHT TALK WITH L. G.</h3>
+<blockquote class="note"><i>(Everyone has views as to how to win
+the War, but not all are vocal, or&mdash;shall we
+say?&mdash;vociferous. If Mr. LLOYD GEORGE reads all the papers (as
+their Editors of course expect him to do) he cannot have missed
+quite a number of powerful articles in the following manner. And
+even if he should miss one or two it would not matter, because
+there is always another in preparation.)</i></blockquote>
+<p>I've always said that the PREMIER shouldn't be bothered with
+Parliament. Of course I've said too that our old friend Demos, the
+new god, should have a say in affairs; but that's an inconsistency
+that doesn't count in the least, does it?</p>
+<p>Now then, Mr. PREMIER, you've got the chance of your lifetime. I
+always said you were a lucky devil&mdash;in fact, I never met the
+Welshman that wasn't.</p>
+<p>You see, Parliament's in recess, and all its trivial overpaid
+Members are playing golf and things. You've got absolutely a free
+hand if only you'll take it. It's quite easy and bound to succeed.
+You've only got to do as I tell you.</p>
+<p>For instance, you want to buck up HAIG and the people at the
+Front. It's no use them telling you they know best, being on the
+spot. That's only bluff, old man. Don't take any notice of them,
+but just order a big general offensive; and before you can say Jack
+Robinson we'll have the Huns behind the Rhine.</p>
+<p>And do tell the Navy to get a move on. I'm glad to see my
+articles have made you change the heads at the Admiralty; and of
+course that's all very well so far as it goes. But it doesn't go
+far enough. <i>Have a chat with BEATTY about it.</i> Get him to
+root the Huns out. He can bombard Ostend and Zeebrugge and all
+those funny little places in two-twos. Tell KING ALBERT not to
+mind. We'll easily slap up new towns for him after the War, built
+on the speedy American principle.</p>
+<p>Then about that aerial offensive. There's really been quite
+enough talk about it. We want some action, Mr. PREMIER. Isn't it
+time it came off? Think what a bombardment of Cologne (taking care
+of the cathedral, <i>of course</i>), Frankfurt, Berlin, Essen and
+Hamburg would do, not to mention other places that I could if I had
+an atlas.</p>
+<p>And about those pacifists. Just clap the whole lot in gaol.
+That's the best place for them. I won't object in the least, even
+though I am the apostle of freedom.</p>
+<p>Then there are lots and lots of other things you might do. You
+might deliver a reasoned manifesto to the Russian people and buck
+them up a bit. That won't do anybody any harm, and <i>it'll be
+getting on with the War</i>, my little Welshman.</p>
+<p>Well, there are a few points for you to go on with. You've got
+the brains to think of more, otherwise I wouldn't have helped to
+put you where you are to-day. But remember that if you <i>don't</i>
+do these things Demos is waiting round the corner for you.</p>
+<p>Demos is a good dog&mdash;a patient animal. But there's an end
+even to his patience. Growl, Demos, and show you're not afraid of
+Welshmen!</p>
+<p>("Grrr&mdash;&mdash;!" Good dog! Good dog!)</p>
+<p>Now then, old boy, I've shown you the way. <i>It's up to
+you!</i></p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<blockquote>Another powerful article on these lines will appear
+next week.<br />
+[But not in <i>Punch</i>.-ED.]</blockquote>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>[pg
+194]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/194.png"><img width="100%" src="images/194.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<table width="100%" summary="">
+<tr>
+<th width="50%"><i>Caller at the Office of The Inventions
+Board.</i> "'DURING WAR PREPARE FOR PEACE'&mdash;THAT MUST BE OUR
+MOTTO! AND MY SPECIAL PATENT SHELL-CASE IS THE VERY THING. A
+SHELL-CASE TO-DAY&mdash;&mdash;</th>
+<th width="50%">&mdash;&mdash;AND A BLANC-MANGE MOULD
+TO-MORROW."</th>
+</tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h2>THE ONLY OTHER TOPIC.</h2>
+<p>"I shot a marrow into the&mdash;I mean I cut a marrow two feet
+seven inches long yesterday," said the man in the corner seat.</p>
+<p>"What did it weigh?" we asked anxiously. After two months of
+them potatoes had somewhat palled. We were growing rather tired of
+marrows, but we waited eagerly for his answer,</p>
+<p>"Twenty-six pounds nine and three-quarter ounces."</p>
+<p>Disappointment again. Our hopes were dashed to the ground. Some
+obscure individual, according to the local press, had produced from
+his humble cottage garden a marrow weighing thirty-four pounds, and
+the thing rankled.</p>
+<p>"Mine was a scraggy specimen, more like an Indian club than a
+marrow."</p>
+<p>"Crossed in love, perhaps," said Dalton.</p>
+<p>"What your marrow wanted was nourishment," said the Authority.
+"A piece of worsted round its neck, with one end dipped in a jar of
+water."</p>
+<p>"Excuse me," said Jones, "the very latest is to insert a tube in
+the stalk, and the flavour is greatly improved if you add a little
+sugar to the water. Almost like a melon."</p>
+<p>"Do you take a card out for each marrow, or one for each plant?"
+asked Dalton.</p>
+<p>The quiet man opposite put his paper down. He was a new-comer in
+the district. We liked him, although he had no sense of humour and
+did not appreciate Dalton's jokes. He appeared to be interested
+only in the startling and the odd.</p>
+<p>"That reminds me," he said, "of a most extraordinary experience
+I had a few days ago. Of course you all know Enderby?"</p>
+<p>None of us knew Enderby, but we I did not like to say so. The
+quiet man's anxiety was painful. We felt he could not go on with
+his story unless someone knew Enderby.</p>
+<p>"He has a little place round at the back of the
+Common&mdash;quite a nice little place." Freath&mdash;that was the
+quiet man's name&mdash;looked at us reproachfully.</p>
+<p>"I think I know Enderby," said Dalton. "Isn't he a heavily-built
+man about fifty, with a grey moustache?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, yes," said Freath eagerly. "And a curious wart on his left
+cheek. Well, I dined with him the other night. His boy was there,
+home for the holidays. Very clever boy; his special study is the
+biology of plants. They gave me a very good dinner; I didn't notice
+very much what I was eating, but I did when the maid helped me to
+marrow. It was a deep crimson colour. I tasted it somewhat
+nervously, for I felt they were all watching me. It had the taste
+of the most exquisite fruit, and the flavour&mdash;I am afraid you
+won't believe me&mdash;was that of the finest port that I ever
+drank. 'How did you manage this, Arthur?' said Enderby.
+'Grape-juice,' said Arthur. 'Those foreign black grapes are very
+cheap just now, so I mixed some with the water that I was feeding
+the marrows on.' I can't explain it to you; all I know is that I
+had a second helping. I am afraid you don't believe it," said
+Freath uneasily.</p>
+<p>We assured him that we did, but we did not say it with
+conviction.</p>
+<p>"Enderby called round to see me a few days afterwards,"
+continued Freath, "and I walked back with him. As we went along he
+told me that a relative was staying with them&mdash;an uncle. The
+first night, again they had marrow for dinner. This time its
+flavour was not port but whisky&mdash;Scotch whisky. The old
+gentleman was delighted with Arthur and his experiments. Although
+an abstainer he had three helpings. This was very pleasing to
+Enderby, as the uncle was a man of considerable wealth. But he was
+not at all satisfied with his son's explanations, and he thought he
+recognised the whisky. Although an abstainer while the War is on,
+Enderby keeps a very good cellar, and when he came to look into
+things he found that Arthur had been pumping his finest '60 port
+and old matured Scotch whisky into the vegetable marrows. Now what
+do you think of that?"</p>
+<p>We thought it very strange and we said so.</p>
+<p>"But the strangest part has yet to come. Of course they had to
+keep it quiet&mdash;bottle it up, so to speak, from the old
+gentleman, and let the marrows down gradually. But when the marrows
+were once more on a temperance <i>r&eacute;gime</i> the most
+extraordinary thing happened." The train was running into Finsbury
+Park. Freath rose and collected his things.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>[pg
+195]</span>
+<p>We stared at him, fascinated.</p>
+<p>"Enderby took me into the garden to see it. He said it had been
+going on for the last week. From all directions, rioting across the
+flower-beds, the lawn, down the paths, the marrows were growing
+towards the wine-cellar at the rate of twelve feet a day."</p>
+<p>Freath hastily left the carriage and jumped into the Broad
+Street train.</p>
+<p>While we were discussing the story the voice of authority spoke:
+"The whole thing's a tissue of falsehood. There's no such man as
+Enderby."</p>
+<p>"But Dalton knows him," we said.</p>
+<p>"I don't know Enderby," said Dalton. "But I wanted to hear the
+story."</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2>
+<h5>"THE PACIFISTS."</h5>
+<p>As a reasonable jusquaboutist I have some misgivings about Mr.
+HENRY ARTHUR JONES'S farce&mdash;parable, <i>The Pacifists</i>.
+Assume <i>Market Pewbury's</i> afflictions to have been as stated:
+an intolerable stalwart cad of a butcher fencing-in the best part
+of the common, assaulting people's grandmothers, shutting them up
+in coal-cellars and eating their crumpets, kissing their wives in
+the market square and proposing to abduct them to seaside resorts,
+and none so bold to do him violence and make him stop it; the
+police being ill or absent, the Mayor and his friend, chief victim
+of the butcher's aggression, unwilling on account of principles to
+do anything but talk and get up leagues to deal with the trouble in
+general, and in a final ecstasy of disapproval to write a strong
+letter; only uncle <i>Belcher</i>, a truculent old sea-dog with a
+natural lust for whisky and blood, organising an opposition,
+valiantly hiring a notable pugilist to deal with the butcher, and
+becoming desperately anxious lest the matter should be peaceably
+settled because the basher, having been engaged, <i>must</i> find
+something to bash or there will be trouble. Well, if we must have
+forged for us the sword of a three-Act parable, we should like it
+with one edge, not two.</p>
+<p>Mr. JONES was evidently bursting with the desire to give some
+irritating people a very hard knock&mdash;witness the barbed
+dedication with which the normally peaceful theatre-announcement
+columns have bristled some little time past; and I think I dare say
+that we were interested in his first Act. He did really work out
+his analogies with some skill. But we soon came to feel that he was
+essentially doing something between flogging a dead horse, so far
+as we were concerned, and shooting a sitting rabbit. I suspect too
+that we realised the issues were too tragic for this kind of
+buffoonery. The tribute of our applause was a tribute of loyalty to
+one who has often deserved well of the republic, and partly the
+desire to show that our hearts were in the right place. I don't see
+<i>The Pacifists</i> as a pamphlet making many converts. As a kick
+on the shins it has points.</p>
+<p>I confess the thing that pleased me most was a gay little piece
+of burlesque by Mr. ARTHUR CHESNEY as the red-haired shop assistant
+who was <i>not</i> a pacifist. Mr. CHARLES GLENNEY so thoroughly
+enjoyed the robustious sea-captain that we had to enjoy it
+too&mdash;a sound notion of entertainment, that. Mr. SEBASTIAN
+SMITH played chief rabbit with considerable skill and point; Mr.
+LENNOX PAWLE amused with his plump dundrearyed mayor; Mr. SAM
+LIVESEY'S offensive was, I am sure, as Hunnish as its author could
+possibly have desired. Miss ELLIS JEFFREYS appeared in the first
+Act as a very plausible imitation of a prominent tradesman's wife
+in an eighth-rate provincial town, with some quite excellent
+moments. But she was evidently labouring under severe strain, and I
+amused myself by speculating how long she would keep out of a
+really well-cut skirt and a sophisticated air of Mayfair. Just an
+Act. And surely she is mistaken in thinking that an effect of
+extreme agitation is best conveyed, by very rapid
+quasi-cinematographic progression up and down the stage? But I saw
+no reason to complain of the bold bad butcher's taste in the matter
+of a subject for abduction.</p>
+<p>T.</p>
+<hr />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href=
+"images/195.png"><img width="100%" src="images/195.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<p><i>Sergeant (to Private Simpkins arriving two days late).</i>
+WELL, SIMPKINS, SO YOU'VE TURNED UP, HAVE YOU?"</p>
+<p><i>Simpkins.</i> "YES, SERGEANT. BUT YOU ARE LUCKY TO GET ME.
+WHAT WITH DOMESTIC TROUBLE AND ALL THAT DELUGE OF RAIN I NEARLY
+MADE A SEPARATE PEACE."</p>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>[pg
+196]</span>
+<h2>BUCEPHALUS AND THE ROAD-HOGS.</h2>
+<p>When Miss Ropes asked at breakfast how many of us would like to
+watch the very last cricket-match of the season at Lumsdale,
+practically the entire hospital held up its hand, and it was found
+that the two cars could not accommodate us all. It was therefore
+settled that Haynes (who said he knew the moves) should drive
+Ansell and me over in the governess-cart.</p>
+<p>It was also settled that the crew of the governess-cart should
+have an early cold lunch and start an hour before the cars; thus
+(it was calculated) we should all arrive at the cricket-ground
+fairly well together. This did not take Haynes' driving into
+account. We started from the door at a very satisfactory pace,
+probably because Bucephalus, the fat pony, objected to the
+enthusiasm of our send-off. When we reached the road he dropped
+into an amble so gentle that we decided that he had really been
+running away in the drive. Next, taking advantage of an almost
+imperceptible upward slope, he began to walk. Haynes clucked at him
+and flapped the reins, but this had no effect beyond steering
+Bucephalus into the left-hand ditch.</p>
+<p>"I thought you said you knew the moves," remarked Ansell.
+"Surely this is wrong?"</p>
+<p>"The bally beast's lopsided," said Haynes with heat. "One side
+of his mouth's hard and the other soft."</p>
+<p>"The difficulty being," I suggested as we lurched across the
+road into the other ditch, "to discover which is which.... Now
+you're straight. We'd better trot. It's only a one-day match."</p>
+<p>Haynes used the ancient whip, which had as much effect as
+tickling a rhinoceros with a feather.</p>
+<p>"Goad him with a penknife," suggested Ansell unfeelingly.</p>
+<p>"There must be some way," said Haynes. "Because they <i>do</i>
+trot, you know."</p>
+<p>"Speaking as one ignorant amateur to another," I asked, "isn't
+the right thing to pull gently on the reins and then slacken? You
+go on doing it till the animal gets your meaning. Try it."</p>
+<p>Haynes tried it, and Bucephalus stopped dead. Repetition of the
+treatment simply produced a tendency to back.</p>
+<p>"For heaven's sake don't lose any of the ground we've gained,"
+said Ansell. "Let's get on, if only at a walk."</p>
+<p>"We shall have to tow him," decided Haynes. He got out and
+hauled at the bridle, but Bucephalus refused to budge.</p>
+<p>"This," said Ansell, becoming suddenly business-like, "is where
+the Boy Hero modestly but firmly takes charge. Jump in."</p>
+<p>He picked up the reins and, though he apparently did nothing in
+particular with them, Bucephalus came to life at once and broke
+into a lumbering trot.</p>
+<p>"You silly chump, why didn't you say you could drive?" asked
+Haynes.</p>
+<p>"Nobody asked me," said the Boy Hero modestly, "and I was
+shy."</p>
+<p>At the time when we had been scheduled to reach the
+cricket-ground we had still a mile to go along a narrow leafy road,
+hardly more than a lane. The cars were overdue, and Haynes, whose
+haughty spirit could not brook the idea of being passed by jeering
+plutocrats, propounded a scheme.</p>
+<p>"They can't pass us unless we go into the ditch," he explained.
+"So when they come we'll pretend to be asleep, take up the middle
+of the road, and simply ignore them. We'll get there first, after
+all."</p>
+<p>A moment later we heard the buzz of engines. I took a hurried
+glance round and saw the sunlight on brasswork as the car came
+round a distant corner.</p>
+<p>"It's them," I said.</p>
+<p>The reins dropped slackly on Bucephalus's back and he slowed to
+a walk. Inside the governess-cart all was somnolent peace. Behind
+us the car was already beginning to make remarks on one of those
+abusive press-the-button horns. "You FOOL! You FOOL! Get OUT o' the
+way! Get OUT o' the way!" it said. Then we heard the car slow down
+and pandemonium broke loose. The horn was reinforced by an ordinary
+hooter, a whistle, several human voices and, lastly, an exhaust
+siren. I stole a glance at Ansell and found that he was having a
+good deal of surreptitious trouble in restraining our fiery steed
+from doing a second bolt.</p>
+<p>"I say," whispered Haynes in sudden agitation, "<i>has</i> Miss
+Ropes an exhaust siren?"</p>
+<p>"No, she hasn't," Ansell replied in tones of horror. "We've held
+up the wrong car." He looked round. "Good Lord!" he added softly
+and pulled Bucephalus into the ditch. In the car, with a grinning
+Tommy at the wheel, sat two apoplectic generals and a highly
+explosive brigade-major. They came alongside, and I should never be
+allowed to repeat what they said to us. It seemed that by delaying
+them we had been hindering the day's work of the entire Home
+Forces. We were given to understand that it was only the blue bands
+on our arms which saved us from being court-martialled on the spot
+and shot by the grinning Tommy at dawn. Then they passed on.</p>
+<p>When our cars did appear a minute or two later we pulled meekly
+into the ditch to let them pass, and could find no better answer to
+the jeers of their occupants than a wan sickly smile apiece.</p>
+<hr />
+<h4>THE TEST OF TYPE.</h4>
+<blockquote class="note"><i>(Suggested by these adjacent paragraphs
+in a daily paper.)</i></blockquote>
+<blockquote>"Maj. &mdash;&mdash;. For conspicuous gallantry and
+resource. He rallied his men when the left flank was seriously
+threatened, and by his energy and fine example saved the situation.
+He subsequently commanded his battalion with great ability. He has
+displayed marked gallantry in every action in which he has taken
+part."</blockquote>
+<blockquote>"A London angler, Mr. &mdash;&mdash;, has caught a
+roach of 2 lb. 1 oz. in the Lark at Barton Mills, the largest fish
+of its kind landed from this Suffolk stream for some
+years."</blockquote>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>Though in these times monopolized by Mars</p>
+<p class="i2">There's not a day that passes but one
+reads&mdash;</p>
+<p>Sandwiched between unprofitable "pars"</p>
+<p class="i2">And other wholly negligible screeds&mdash;</p>
+<p>Of decorations, crosses, medals, bars,</p>
+<p class="i2">Bestowed for valiant and heroic deeds;</p>
+<p>Over these records we must often pass</p>
+<p>Unless we've got a magnifying-glass!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>But if some member of a fishing club</p>
+<p class="i2">In London or the provinces, renowned</p>
+<p>For prowess with the lob-worm or the grub,</p>
+<p class="i2">Should land a roach of more than half a pound,</p>
+<p>Then in the leading papers of the hub</p>
+<p class="i2">Full space for that achievement will be found,</p>
+<p>And clearest type and unaffected rapture</p>
+<p>Will signalize the epoch-making capture!</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>The moral of the episode is plain:</p>
+<p class="i2">If soldiers wish to petrify the nation,</p>
+<p>Let them&mdash;when leave permits&mdash;no more disdain</p>
+<p class="i2">To join a Roach or Perch Association,</p>
+<p>Cull giant gooseberries, and strive to gain</p>
+<p class="i2">Prizes for Blind-fold Pig Delineation.</p>
+<p>Thus only&mdash;not by cross or golden stripe&mdash;</p>
+<p>Will they achieve the honour of big type.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197"></a>[pg
+197]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href=
+"images/197.png"><img width="100%" src="images/197.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<h3>REPRISALS</h3>
+<i>Competitor (in international contest).</i> "THE BLIGHTER'S BIT
+ME." <i>Referee.</i> "WELL, AIN'T YER GOT NO TEETH OF YER OWN? BOX
+ON."</div>
+<hr />
+<h2>SHAKSPEARE AND THE WAR.</h2>
+<blockquote class="note">[Since the entry of the United States all
+the English-speaking peoples are in alliance for
+freedom.]</blockquote>
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>I think our SHAKSPEARE, gone this many a year</p>
+<p class="i2">To some rich haven where the poets throng</p>
+<p class="i2">And Ruler of Ten Cities wrought in song</p>
+<p>And spired with rhythmic music, high and clear,</p>
+<p>Still finds his England something close and dear,</p>
+<p class="i2">Rejoicing when her justice baffles wrong</p>
+<p class="i2">And willing her to wrestle and be strong.</p>
+<p>I think he bides by England and is near.</p>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<p>And, in the purpose of his Overlord,</p>
+<p class="i2">His weaving spirit, still in cloudless youth</p>
+<p>With minstrelsy made perfect, throws a cord</p>
+<p class="i2">That rings the continents in its magic reach</p>
+<p class="i2">To gather all who share his English speech</p>
+<p>In one firm warrior bond of troth and truth.</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<h3>"LET LAWS AND LEARNING...."</h3>
+<blockquote>"I should add that Viscount Harberton sees a chance for
+his own order in the circumstance that, while the poor man's child
+is driven to school by the inspector, the rich man can 'boot the
+spy out,' and so confer on his children the priceless boon of
+complete illiteracy. Shall we live to see a House of Lords that
+makes its mark?"&mdash;<i>Observer.</i></blockquote>
+<p>Some of them, we believe, are under the impression that they
+have done so already.</p>
+<hr />
+<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2>
+<p>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</p>
+<p>Unless you can share with me the sad immunity of the forties, I
+must despair of translating for you the emotion raised in my
+antique soul by the wrapper of a new RIDER HAGGARD story bearing
+the picture of a Zulu and the discovery inside that
+<i>Quatermain</i> is come again! The tale that has so excited me is
+called, a little ominously, <i>Finished</i> (WARD, LOCK), and I
+could have better loved a cheerier title. The matter is, to begin
+with, an affair of a shady doctor, of I.D.B. and an abduction; none
+of it, I admit, any too absorbing. But about halfway through the
+author, as though sharing my own views upon this part of the plot,
+exchanges (so to speak) the Shady for the Black, and transports us
+all to Zululand. And if you need reminding of what H.R.H. can do
+with that delectable country, I can only say I am sorry for you.
+Incidentally there are some stirring scenes from certain pages of
+history that the glare of these later days has rather
+faded&mdash;Isandhlwana and Rorke's Drift among them; as well as
+the human drama of the feud between CETEWAYO (terror of my
+nursery!) and the witch-doctor <i>Zikali</i>. Whether the old
+careless rapture is altogether recovered is another matter; at
+least the jolly unpronounceable names are still there, and the
+picturesque speech. Most of the names, that is; <i>Allan</i> of
+course, and others, but I for one should have welcomed rare
+<i>Umslopogaas</i>&mdash;or however he is rightly spelt&mdash;and
+<i>Curtis</i>, for personal reasons my favourite of the gallant
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>[pg
+198]</span> company that have so often kept secret rendezvous with
+me behind the unlifted lid of a desk at preparation time. And now
+have we really come at long last to <i>Finished</i>? I can only
+hope that Sir H. RIDER HAGGARD doesn't mean it.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Mrs. HUMPHRY WARD may be numbered amongst the most indefatigable
+of women war-workers. She has now followed up her former success in
+<i>England's Effort</i> with a volume carrying on the story of our
+part in the War under the title of <i>Towards the Goal</i>
+(MURRAY). The book is written in the form of a series of letters
+addressed to ex-President ROOSEVELT, as the onlie begetter both of
+it and its predecessor. It is further equipped with a preface by
+the hand of this same able and clear-sighted gentleman, the chief
+drawback of which (from my reviewing point of view) is that it
+covers so well the whole ground of appreciation as to leave me
+nothing more to add. "Mrs. Ward writes nobly on a noble
+theme"&mdash;<i>voil&agrave; tout!</i> Her theme, as I have hinted,
+is a further exposition of Britain's war activities as those have
+developed since the former book was published. In its course Mrs.
+WARD gives us some vivid experiences of her own as a visitor to the
+Western Front: things seen and heard, well calculated (were this
+needed) to stiffen the resolution of the great people to whom her
+letters are really written. <i>England's Effort</i> was, I
+understand, translated into many tongues (with results that can
+hardly fail of being enormously valuable); <i>Towards the Goal</i>
+should certainly receive the same treatment of which it is well
+worthy.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>Mr. WILLIAM HARBUTT DAWSON, in his <i>After War Problems</i>
+(ALLEN AND UNWIN), covers, under the four headings, Empire and
+Citizenship, Natural Efficiency, Social Reform, and National
+Finance and Taxation, bewilderingly wide ground, and drives a
+perhaps rather mandarinish team of contributors. Lord HALDANE, for
+instance, is no longer in the real van of educational endeavour,
+and is it wholly insignificant that his chapter on Education
+appears in the section headed National Efficiency rather than in
+that of Social Reform? It ought not to be difficult to give, in the
+light of these last years, a wider interpretation to Patriotism
+than that expressed by Lord MEATH on lines familiar to his public.
+Sir WILLIAM CHANCE has seen no new sign in the skies in relation to
+the problem of poverty. Sir BENJAMIN BROWNE, whose death all those
+interested in the settlement of the Capital-Labour quarrel must
+deplore, as for all his uncompromising individualism he brought to
+it a rare breadth of view, says much that is of real value, but
+does not refrain from appealing to the fact that the mutual
+confidence of man and officer in battle is a proof of the
+possibility of a similar confidence in the workshop. That
+confidence must, and can, we dare to believe, eventually be
+established. But the men don't go over the top to put money in the
+Colonel's pocket, and little good is done by exploiting these loose
+analogies and putting on a too easy air of optimism in the face of
+desperately serious and complex problems. But enough of
+fault-finding, which is a poor reward for the serious and generous
+labours of public-spirited men and women. After all, what one
+reader calls timidity of outlook another may care to praise as
+prudence. Here you will find an abundance of safe analysis, wise
+comment and constructive suggestion from a galaxy of accredited
+authorities.</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+<p>In the early chapters of Mr. WILLIAM HEWLETT'S new story, <i>The
+Plot-Maker</i> (DUCKWORTH), we are introduced to a popular and
+highly successful novelist, named <i>Coulthard Henderson</i>, in
+the emotional crisis produced by a sudden doubt as to whether his
+output of best-sellers represented anything in the least
+approaching actuality. You will admit a tragic situation. He meets
+it by the determination that his next book shall be a veritable
+slice of life, and to this end he selects and finances an eligible
+young man for the purpose of vicariously experiencing those
+emotions, from which age and other causes debar the chronicler; in
+other words, he hires a hero. The worst of this excellent idea is
+that it can hardly be said to originate either with <i>Mr.
+Henderson</i> or Mr. HEWLETT, that credit belonging (I fancy) to
+the late HERBERT FLOWERDEW in a too-little-appreciated masterpiece
+of sensational burlesque called <i>The Realist</i>. However, <i>The
+Plot-Maker</i>, once set going, develops admirably enough on lines
+entirely its own. The so-much-an-hour hero turns out an engaging
+young gentleman, but a wofully poor protagonist. The situation
+where (in the midst of whirling events) he makes the startling
+discovery that he himself has been in some way switched on to the
+part of villain is one that you can appreciate only at first hand.
+Certainly if you want (as who does not in these days?) an
+anaesthetic of agreeable nonsense <i>The Plot-Maker</i> is a medium
+that I can cordially recommend: one obvious advantage being that
+you need not try to believe a single word of it.</p>
+<hr />
+<h3>HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF.</h3>
+<p>From a publisher's list:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote>"Shells as evidence of the Migrations of Early
+Culture."</blockquote>
+<p>And modern Kultur spreads itself in just the same old way.</p>
+<hr />
+<blockquote>"Lady Required to Share Rome with another."<br />
+<i>Staffordshire Sentinel</i>.</blockquote>
+<p>But what about the King of ITALY, not to mention the POPE?</p>
+<hr />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href=
+"images/198.png"><img width="100%" src="images/198.png" alt=
+"" /></a>
+<p><i>Eastern Potentate (rusticating)</i>. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA, MY
+DEAR FRIEND, HOW SOOTHING IT IS TO ME TO GET AWAY FROM THE
+LUXURIOUS AND ARTIFICIAL LIFE OF THE COURT AND TO SPEND MY
+WEEK-ENDS IN QUIET RETIREMENT HERE IN THE COUNTRY WHERE A FRIEND
+MAY DROP IN FOR POT LUCK AND TAKE US IN THE ROUGH."</p>
+</div>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 153, SEPT. 12, 1917***</p>
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@@ -0,0 +1,2029 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153,
+Sept. 12, 1917, by Various, Edited by Owen Seamen
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153, Sept. 12, 1917
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: January 4, 2004  [eBook #10594]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI,
+VOL. 153, SEPT. 12, 1917***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, Punch, or the London Charivari, Sandra
+Brown, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+VOL. 153.
+
+SEPTEMBER 12TH, 1917.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHARIVARIA.
+
+The _Cologne Gazette_ is of the opinion that the American troops, when
+they arrive in France, will be hampered by their ignorance of the
+various languages. But we understand that the Americans can shoot in any
+language.
+
+       ***
+
+A weekly periodical is giving away a bicycle every other week. Meanwhile
+_The Daily Telegraph_ continues to give away a Kaiser every day.
+
+       ***
+
+"I decline to have anything to do with the War," said a Conscientious
+Objector to a North of England magistrate, "and I resent this
+interference with my liberty." Indeed he is said to be so much annoyed
+that he intends sending the War Office a jolly snappy letter about it.
+
+       ***
+
+CHARLIE CHAPLIN says a gossip writer is coming to England in the Autumn.
+This disposes of the suggestion that arrangements were being made for
+England to be taken over to him.
+
+       ***
+
+_Incidentally_ we notice that CHARLIE CHAPLIN has become a naturalised
+American, with, we presume, permission to use the rank of Honorary
+Britisher.
+
+       ***
+
+Before a Northern Tribunal an applicant stated that he was engaged in
+the completion of an invention which would enable dumb people to speak
+or signal with perfection. He was advised, however, to concentrate for a
+while on making certain Germans say "Kamerad."
+
+       ***
+
+An Isle of Wight man has succeeded in growing a vegetable marrow which
+weighs forty-three pounds. To avoid its being mistaken for the island he
+has scratched his name and address on it.
+
+       ***
+
+Those in search of a tactless present will bear in mind that Mr. MARK
+HAMBOURG has written a book entitled "How to Play the Piano."
+
+       ***
+
+The great flagstaff at Kew Gardens, which weighs 18 tons and is 215 feet
+long, is not to be erected until after the War. This has come as a great
+consolation to certain people who had feared the two events would clash.
+
+       ***
+
+In Mid Cheshire there is a scarcity of partridges, but there is plenty
+of other game in Derbyshire. The Mid-Cheshire birds are of the opinion
+that this cannot be too strongly advertised.
+
+       ***
+
+Thirteen years after it was posted at Watford a postcard has just
+reached an Ealing lady inviting her to tea, and of course she rightly
+protested that the tea was cold.
+
+       ***
+
+An estate near Goole has been purchased for L118,000, the purchaser
+having decided not to carry out his first intention of investing that
+amount in a couple of boxes of matches.
+
+       ***
+
+Herr Erzberger is known among his friends as "The Singing Socialist." We
+are afraid however that if he wants peace he will have to whistle for it.
+       ***
+
+The Provisional Government in Russia, according to _The Evening News,_
+has "always regarded an international debate on the questions of war and
+pease as useful." But our Government, not being exactly provisional,
+prefers to go on giving the enemy beans.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: COMFORTING THOUGHT
+
+When there are no taxis on your return from your holidays:
+
+"OUR TRUE STRENGTH IS TO KNOW OUR OWN WEAKNESS."--_CHARLES KINGSLEY_.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE END OF AN EPISODE.
+
+I write this in the beginning of a minor tragedy; if indeed the
+severance of any long, helpful and sympathetic association can ever be
+so lightly named. For that is precisely what our intercourse has been
+these many weeks past; one of nervous and quickly roused irritation on
+my part, of swift and gentle ministration on his.
+
+At least once a day we have met during that period (and occasionally,
+though rarely, more often), usually in those before-breakfast hours when
+the temper of normal man is most exacting and uncertain. But his temper
+never varied; the perfection of it was indeed among his finest
+qualities. Morning after morning, throughout a time that, as it chanced,
+has been full of distress and disappointment, would his soothing and
+infinitely gentle touch recall me to content. That stroking caress of
+his was a thing indescribable; one before which the black shadows left
+by the hours of night seemed literally to dissolve and vanish.
+
+And now the long expected, long dreaded has begun to happen. He, too, is
+turning against me, as so many others of his fellows have done in the
+past. Who knows the reason? What continued roughness on my part has at
+last worn out even him? But for some days now there has been no
+misreading the fatal symptoms--increasing irritability on the one side,
+harshness turning to blunt indifference on the other. And this morning
+came the unforgivable offence, the cut direct.
+
+That settles it; to-morrow, with a still smarting regret, I unwrap a new
+razor-blade.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE WHOLE HOG.
+
+    ["Victorian love-making was at best a sloppy business ... modern
+    maidens have little use for half measures.... Primitive ideas
+    are beginning to assert themselves."--_Daily Paper._]
+
+  Betty, when you were in your teens
+    And shielded from sensation,
+  Despite a lack of ways and means
+  In various appropriate scenes
+    I sighed my adoration.
+  You did not smile upon my suit;
+    Pallid I grew and pensive;
+  My disappointment was acute,
+  Life seemed a worthless thing and mute.
+  I moped, then tuned my laggard lute
+    And launched a new offensive.
+
+  Thus you were wooed in former days
+    When maids were won by waiting;
+  The modern lover finds it pays
+  To imitate the forceful ways
+    Of prehistoric mating.
+  Man is more primitive (a snub
+    Has no effect), so if you
+  Should still refuse a certain "sub."
+  He will not pine or spurn his grub,
+  But, seizing the ancestral club,
+    Into submission biff you.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MAKING THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS.
+
+    "As honorary organist at ---- Wesleyan Church he has established
+    a sound and compact business as wholesale grocer and Italian
+    warehouseman."--_Provincial Paper._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Maid (superior) wanted for lady, gentleman, small flat, strong
+    girl, able to assist lady with rheumatism."--_Glasgow Herald._
+
+If we hear of a small flat girl we will send her along; but this shaped
+figure is rather out of fashion just now.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SUPER-PIPE.
+
+When Jackson first joined the jolly old B.E.F. he smoked a pipe. He
+carried it anyhow. Loose in his pocket, mind you. A pipe-bowl at his
+pocket's brim a simple pipe-bowl was to him, and it was nothing more. Of
+course no decent B.E.F. mess could stand that. Jackson was told that a
+pipe was _anathema maranatha_, which is Greek for _no bon._
+
+"What will I smoke then?" said Jackson, who was no Englishman. We waited
+for the Intelligence Officer to reply. We knew him. The Intelligence
+Officer said nothing. He drew something from his pocket. It was a parcel
+wrapped in cloth-of-gold. He removed the cloth-of-gold and there was
+discovered a casket, which he unlocked with a key attached to his
+identity disc. Inside the casket was a padlocked box, which he opened
+with a key attached by gold wire to his advance pay-book. Inside the box
+was a roll of silk. To cut it all short, he unwound puttee after puttee
+of careful wrapping till he reached a chamois-leather chrysalis, which
+he handled with extreme reverence, and from this he drew something with
+gentle fingers, and set it on the table-cloth before the goggle-eyed
+Jackson.
+
+"A pipe," said Jackson.
+
+There was a shriek of horror. The Intelligence Officer fainted. Here was
+wanton sacrilege.
+
+"Man," said the iron-nerved Bombing Officer, "it's a Brownhill."
+
+"What's a Brownhill?" asked Jackson.
+
+We gasped. How could we begin to tell him of that West End shrine from
+which issue these lacquered symbols of a New Religion?
+
+The Intelligence Officer was reviving. We looked to him.
+
+"The prophet Brownhill," he said, "was once a tobacconist--an ordinary
+tobacconist who sold pipes."
+
+We shuddered.
+
+"He discovered one day that man wants more than mere pipes. He wants
+a--a super-pipe, something to reverence and--er--look after, you know,
+as well as to smoke. So he invented the Brownhill. It is an _affaire de
+coeur_--an affair of art," translated the I.O. proudly. "It is as glossy
+as a chestnut in its native setting, and you can buy furniture polish
+from the prophet Brownhill which will keep it always so. It has its
+year, like a famous vintage, it has a silver wind-pipe, and it costs
+anything up to fifty guineas."
+
+"D'you smoke it'?" asked Jackson, brutally.
+
+We gave him up. In awful silence each of us produced his wrappings and
+his caskets, extracted the shining briar, smeared it with cosmetics, and
+polished it more reverently than a peace time Guardsman polishes his
+buttons when warned for duty next day at "Buck."
+       *       *       *       *       *
+And Jackson smoked his pipe in secret. He would take no leaf from the
+book of the Sassenachs.
+
+And the War went on.
+       *       *       *       *       *
+Jackson went on leave. To his deep disgust he had to wait a few hours in
+London on his way to more civilised parts, and fate led him idling to
+Brownhill's. He flattened his Celtic nose on the window and stared
+fascinated at the array of super-pipes displayed there. After a furtive
+glance along the street he crept into the temple. A white-coated priest
+met him.
+
+"I--I'm wantin'--a--a pipe," said Jackson. He saw the priest reel and
+turn pale to the lips. "I should say a--a Brownhill," he added hastily.
+The other man gulped, steadied himself with an effort, and gave a
+ghastly smile. If you had walked into a temple at Thibet and planked
+down sixpence and asked for an idol wrapped up in brown paper you could
+not have done a more dreadful thing than Jackson had done; but the
+priest forgave him and produced in silence a trayful of Brownhills. Then
+was Jackson like unto ELIA'S little Chinese boy with "the crackling." He
+touched a briar and was converted. He stroked them as though they were
+kittens, bought ten of them, a pound of polish, fifty silver wind-pipes
+and a bale of chamois-leather. The priest took a deep breath.
+
+"You are a full-blooded man, Sir," said he, "if you will excuse me
+saying so, and you should smoke in your new Brownhills a mixture which
+has a proportion of Latakia to Virginian of one to nineteen--a small
+percentage of glycerine and cucumber being added because you have red
+hair, and the whole submitted to a pressure of eighteen hundred
+foot-pounds to the square millimetre, under violet rays. This will be
+known as 'Your Mixture,' Number 56785-6/11, and will be supplied to no
+one else on earth, except under penalty of death.
+
+"I will take a ton," said Jackson with glazing eyes.
+
+This was a man after the priest's own heart. He took another deep breath
+and dived into the strong-room. He returned under the escort of ten
+armed men, each of them chained by the wrist to an iron box, which he
+unlocked with difficulty. Inside the iron box was a thing which Jackson
+a few months ago would have called a pipe. He knew better now. In awful
+silence the priest lifted it from its satin bed. "This," he whispered,
+"was once smoked by Brownhill himself."
+
+Jackson put out a hand to take it. The priest hesitated, then laid it
+gently on his customer's palm.
+
+And Jackson dropped it.
+
+Jackson has never been heard of since.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE FAIRIES HAVE NEVER A PENNY TO SPEND.
+
+  The fairies have never a penny to spend,
+    They haven't a thing put by,
+  But theirs is the dower of bird and of flower,
+    And theirs are the earth and the sky.
+  And though you should live in a palace of gold
+    Or sleep in a dried-up ditch,
+  You could never be poor as the fairies are,
+        And never as rich.
+
+  Since ever and ever the world began
+    They have danced like a ribbon of flame,
+  They have sung their song through the centuries long,
+    And yet it is never the same.
+  And though you be foolish or though you be wise,
+    With hair of silver or gold,
+  You could never be young as the fairies are
+        And never as old.
+
+R. F.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+RARA AVIS.
+
+From a cigarette-card:--
+
+    "REED WARBLER.
+
+    "_Acrocephalus streperus._
+
+    "This bird is found in nearly every part of the British Islands.
+    It builds a nest about a foot off the ground in the reed beds,
+    and is formed of grass, horse hair and sometimes feathers."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From a list of medallists of the new Order of the British Empire:--
+
+    "G. P. Hamlet.--For courage in persisting with dangerous work,
+    with a certainty of suffering from poisoning as a result."
+
+Just like his illustrious namesake.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Melbourne, Friday.
+
+    "The House of Representatives to-day passed the second reading of
+    the War Times Profits Tax Assessment Bill. The tax will be 50
+    per cent. for the year ending June 30, 191161, and 75 per cent.
+    for afterwards.--Reuter."
+
+    _Aberdeen Paper._
+
+Well, well, we need not worry.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "What is being fought out is a long-drawn battle for the
+    important shipping port of Trieste, with the whole of the
+    railway and road communications of the Iberian Peninsula."
+
+    _The People._
+
+Rather a shock for Madrid.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE REVERSE OF THE MEDAL.
+
+OPTIMISTIC GERMAN _(reading paper)._ "THIS IS KOLOSSAL! OUR IRRESISTIBLE
+AIRMEN HAVE AGAIN, FOR THE TWENTIETH TIME, DESTROYED LONDON."
+
+GLOOMY DITTO. "THAT BEING SO, LET'S HOPE THEY'LL STOP THOSE CURSED
+BRITISH AIRMEN FROM BOMBING OUR LINES EVERY DAY AND NIGHT."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STUDY IN SYMMETRY.
+
+The following story, however improbable it may seem to you, is true.
+
+Once upon a time there was an artist with historical leanings not
+unassociated with the desire for pelf--pelf being, even to idealists,
+what petrol is to a car. The blend brought him one day to Portsmouth,
+where the _Victory_ lies, with the honourable purpose of painting a
+picture of that famous ship with NELSON on board. What the ADMIRAL was
+doing I cannot say--most probably dying--but the artist's intention was
+to make the work as attractive as might be and thus draw a little profit
+from the wave of naval enthusiasm which was then passing over the
+country; for not only was the picture itself to be saleable, but
+reproductions were to be made of it.
+
+Permission having been obtained from the authorities, the artist boarded
+the _Victory_, set up his easel on her deck and settled down to his
+task, the monotony of which was pleasantly alleviated by the chatter of
+the old salts who guard the ship and act as guides to the tourists who
+visit her. All of these estimable men not only possessing views on art,
+but having come by now to the firm belief that they had fought with
+NELSON, their criticisms were not too easily combated and the artist
+hadn't a tedious moment. Thus, painting, conversing and learning (as one
+can learn only from a trained imparter of information), three or four
+days passed quickly away and the picture was done.
+
+So far there has been nothing--has there?--to strain credulity. No. But
+a time will come--is, in fact, upon us.
+
+On the evening of the last day, as the artist was sitting at early
+dinner with a friend before catching the London train, his remarks
+turned (as an artist's sometimes will) upon the work upon which he had
+just been engaged. He expressed satisfaction with it in the main, but
+could not, he said, help feeling that its chances of becoming a real
+success would be sensibly increased if he could find as a model for the
+central figure some one whose resemblance to NELSON was noticeable.
+
+"There are, of course," he went on, "at the same time--that is to say,
+among contemporaries--no two faces exactly alike. That is an axiom.
+Strange as it may sound, among all the millions of countenances with two
+eyes, a nose in the middle and a mouth below it, some difference exists
+in each. That is, as I say, among contemporaries: in the world at this
+moment in which I am speaking. But," he continued, warming to his
+subject, for, as you will have already gathered, he was not one of the
+taciturn brush-brotherhood, "after the lapse of years I see no reason
+why nature should not begin precisely to reproduce physiognomies and so
+save herself the trouble of for ever diversifying them. That being
+so--and surely the hypothesis is not too far-fetched"--here his friend
+said, "No, not at all--oh no!"--"why," the artist continued, "should
+there not be at this moment, more than a century later, some one whose
+resemblance to NELSON is exact? He would not be necessarily a naval
+man--probably, indeed, not, for NELSON's face was not characteristic of
+the sea--but whoever he was, even if he were an archbishop, I," said the
+painter firmly, "should not hesitate to go up to him and ask him to sit
+to me."
+
+The friend agreed that this was a very proper attitude and that it
+betokened true sincerity of purpose.
+
+"NELSON's face," the painter continued, "was an uncommon one. So large
+and so mobile a mouth is rare. But I have no doubt that a duplicate
+exists, and no matter who is the owner of it, even were he an
+archbishop, I should not hesitate to go up and ask him to sit to me."
+
+(For the benefit of any feminine reader of this veracious history I
+should say that the repetition which she has just noticed is not an
+accident, but has been carefully set down. It is an attempt to give
+verisimilitude to the conversation--because men always say things like
+that twice.)
+
+The friend again remarked that the painter's resolve did him infinite
+credit, and the two started for the station, still conversing on the
+same theme.
+
+On entering their carriage the first thing to take their attention was a
+quiet little man in black, who was the absolute double of the hero of
+Trafalgar.
+
+"Good gracious!" whispered the painter excitedly, "do you see that?
+There's the very man. The likeness to NELSON is astonishing. I never saw
+anything like it. I don't care who he is, I must tackle him. It's the
+most extraordinary chance that ever occurred."
+
+Assuming his most silky and deferential manner--for, though clearly not
+an archbishop, unless in mufti, this might yet be a person of
+importance--the painter approached the stranger and tendered a card.
+
+"I trust, Sir, that you will excuse me," he began, "for the liberty I am
+taking, but I am an artist and I happen to be engaged on a picture of
+NELSON on the _Victory_. I have all the accessories and so forth, but
+what I very seriously need is a brief sitting from some gentleman with a
+likeness to the great little Admiral. Such, Sir, as yourself. It may be
+news to you--it probably is--but you, Sir, if I may say so, are so like
+the famous and immortal warrior as almost to take one's breath away. It
+is astonishing, wonderful! Might I--would it be--could you--would you,
+Sir, be so very kind as to allow me to paint you? I would, of course,
+make every effort not to inconvenience you--I would arrange so that your
+time should be mine."
+
+"Of course I will, guvnor," said the man. "I'm a professional model and
+I've been sitting for NELSON for years. Why, I've been doing it for an
+artist this very afternoon."
+
+[Illustration: OUR RESTRICTED COAST AMUSEMENTS.
+
+_Vendor_. "ALL THE OFFICIAL 'OLIDAY FUN. FLY THE PATRIOTIC KITES AND
+ANNOY THE GOTHAS!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Physical Drill Instructor (to weak-kneed recruit)_. "NAH
+THEN! IF YOU'RE A-GOING TER JUMP--_JUMP!_"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A LOST LAND.
+
+(To GERMANY.)
+
+  A childhood land of mountain ways,
+  Where earthy gnomes and forest fays,
+  Kind foolish giants, gentle bears,
+  Sport with the peasant as he fares
+  Affrighted through the forest glades,
+  And lead sweet wistful little maids
+  Lost in the woods, forlorn, alone,
+  To princely lovers and a throne.
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  Dear haunted land of gorge and glen,
+  Ah me! the dreams, the dreams of men!
+
+  A learned land of wise old books
+  And men with meditative looks,
+  Who move in quaint red-gabled towns
+  And sit in gravely-folded gowns,
+  Divining in deep-laden speech
+  The world's supreme arcana--each
+  A homely god to listening Youth
+  Eager to tear the veil of Truth;
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  Mild votaries of book and pen--
+  Alas, the dreams, the dreams of men!
+
+  A music land, whose life is wrought
+  In movements of melodious thought;
+  In symphony, great wave on wave--
+  Or fugue, elusive, swift, and grave;
+  A singing land, whose lyric rhymes
+  Float on the air like village chimes:
+  Music and Verse--the deepest part
+  Of a whole nation's thinking heart!
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  Oh land of Now, oh land of Then!
+  Dear God! the dreams, the dreams of men!
+
+  Slave nation in a land of hate,
+  Where are the things that made you great?
+  Child-hearted once--oh, deep defiled,
+  Dare you look now upon a child?
+  Your lore--a hideous mask wherein
+  Self-worship hides its monstrous sin:--
+  Music and verse, divinely wed--
+  How can these live where love is dead?
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  Oh depths beneath sweet human ken,
+  God help the dreams, the dreams of men!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "The Blessington Papers are included with all their atmosphere
+    of distinguished High Bohemia. Among them are some interesting
+    Disraeli letters--he was ever her staunch friend from the early
+    'thirties to the late 'forties, when his son had risen and
+    her's--how brilliant!--had set."--_Saturday Review_.
+
+And up to the present we had been under the impression that both these
+distinguished persons were childless.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HINT FOR HORTICULTURISTS.
+
+    "Mr. ----, undertaker, of Temuka, improved his plant by the
+    purchase of a new hearse."--_Timaru Herald (New Zealand)_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Mr. ---- hopes shortly to be seen again in revue in the Wet
+    End."--_Pall Mall Gazette_.
+
+Or, as the CENSOR would put it, "somewhere in England."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    _Daily Mail_ (Ordinary Edition), 3 September, 1917: "Lord
+    Halsbury is 92 to-day."
+
+    _Times_ (Late War Edition), 3 September, 1917: "The Earl of
+    Halsbury is 94 to-day."
+
+Yet, from personal observation, one would never believe that the EX-LORD
+CHANCELLOR was ageing so rapidly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From "German Official":--
+
+    "With the use of numerous tanks and aeroplanes, flying at a low
+    altitude, the English infantry soon after advanced to the attack
+    on this front."--_Evening Paper_.
+
+Now that the enemy has given away the secret of our new weapon the
+CENSOR might let us know more of our flying Tanks.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Prisoner then seized her round the throat with both hands and
+    hit her on the head with a steel case-opener."--_Daily Paper_.
+
+Which, presumably, he carried in his teeth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SUNFLOWER.
+
+"Have you," said Francesca, "seen our sunflowers lately?"
+
+"Yes," I said, "I've kept an eye on them occasionally. It's a bit
+difficult, by the way, not to see them, isn't it?"
+
+"Well," she said, "perhaps they are rather striking."
+
+"Striking!" I said. "I never heard a more inadequate word. I call them
+simply overwhelming--the steam-rollers of the vegetable world. Look at
+their great yellow open faces."
+
+"I never," said Francesca, "saw a steam-roller with a face. You're
+mixing your metaphors."
+
+"And," I said, "I shall go on mixing them as long as you grow
+sunflowers. It's the very least a man can do by way of protest."
+
+"I don't know why you should want to protest. The seed makes very good
+chicken-food."
+
+"Yes, I know," I said, "that's what you always said."
+
+"And I bet," she said, "you've repeated it. When you've met the tame
+Generals and Colonels at your club, and they've boasted to you about
+their potatoes, I know you've countered them with the story of how
+you've turned the whole of your lawn into a bed of sunflowers calculated
+to drive the most obstinate hen into laying two eggs a day, rain or
+shine."
+
+"I admit," I said, "that I may have mentioned the matter casually, but I
+never thought the things were going to be like this. When I first knew
+them and talked about them they were tender little shoots of green just
+modestly showing above the ground, and now they're a forest primeval.
+The murmuring pines and the hemlock aren't in it with this impenetrable
+jungle liberally blotched with yellow, this so-called sunflower patch."
+
+"What would you call it," she said, "if you didn't call it sunflower?"
+
+"I should call it a beast of prey," I said. "A sunflower seems to me to
+be more like a tiger than anything else."
+
+"It was a steam-roller about a minute ago."
+
+"Yes," I said, "it was--a tigerish steam-roller."
+
+"How interesting," she said. "I have not met one quite like that."
+
+"That," I said, "is because your eye isn't properly poetical. It's
+blocked with chicken-food and other utilitarian objects."
+
+"I must," she said, "consult an oculist. Perhaps he will give me glasses
+which will unblock my eye and make me see tigers in the garden."
+
+"No," I said, "you will have to do it for yourself. For such an eye as
+yours even the best oculists are unavailing."
+
+"I might," she said, "improve if I read poetry at home. Has any poet
+written about sunflowers?"
+
+"Yes," I said, "BLAKE did. He was quite mad, and he wrote a poem to a
+sunflower: 'Ah! Sunflower! Weary of time.' That's how it begins."
+
+"Weary of time!" she said scornfully. "That's no good to me. I'm weary
+of having no time at all to myself."
+
+"That shows," I said, "that you're not a sunflower."
+
+"Thank heaven for that," she said. "It's enough to have four children to
+look after--five including yourself."
+
+"My dear Francesca," I said, "how charming you are to count me as a
+child! I shall really begin to feel as if there were golden threads
+among the silver."
+
+"Tut-tut," she said, "you're not so grey as all that."
+
+"Yes, I am," I said, "quite as grey as all that and much greyer; only we
+don't talk about it."
+
+"But we _do_ talk about sunflowers," she said, "don't we?"
+
+"If you'll promise to have the beastly glaring things dug up--"
+
+"Not," she said, "before we've extracted from them their last pip of
+chicken-food."
+
+"Well, anyhow," I said, "as soon as possible. If you'll promise to do
+that I'll promise never to mention them again."
+
+"But you'll lose your reputation with the Generals and Colonels."
+
+"I don't mind that," I said, "if I can only rid the garden of their
+detested presence."
+
+"My golden-threaded boy," said Francesca, "it shall be as you desire."
+
+R.C.L.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CONSTABLE JINKS.
+
+  Our village policeman is tall and well-grown,
+  He stands six feet two and he weighs sixteen stone;
+  His gait is majestic, his visage serene,
+  And his boots are the biggest that ever I've seen.
+
+  Fame sealed his renown with a definite stamp
+  When two German waiters escaped from a camp.
+  Unaided he captured those runaway Huns
+  Who had lived for a week on three half-penny buns.
+
+  When a derelict porpoise was cast on the shore
+  Our village policeman was much to the fore;
+  He measured the beast from its tip to its tail,
+  And blandly pronounced it "an undersized whale."
+
+  When a small boy was flying his kite on the links
+  It was promptly impounded by Constable Jinks,
+  Who astutely remarked that it might have been seen
+  By the vigilant crew of a Hun submarine.
+
+  It is sometimes alleged that great valour he showed
+  When he chased a mad cow for three miles on the road;
+  But there's also another account of the hunt
+  With a four-legged pursuer, a biped in front.
+
+  If your house has been robbed and his counsel you seek
+  He's sure to look in--in the course of the week,
+  When his massive appearance will comfort your cook,
+  Though he fails in the bringing of culprits to book.
+
+  His _obiter dicta_ on life and the law
+  Set our ribald young folk in a frequent guffaw;
+  But the elders repose an implicit belief
+  In so splendid a product of beer and of beef.
+
+  He's the strongest and solidest man in the place,
+  Nothing--short of mad cattle--can quicken his pace;
+  His moustache would do credit to any dragoon,
+  And his voice is as deep as a double bassoon.
+
+  His complexion is perfect, his uniform neat,
+  He rivets all eyes as he stalks down the street;
+  And I doubt if his critics will ever complain
+  Of his being a little deficient in brain.
+
+  For he's more than a man; he's a part of the map;
+  His going would cause a deplorable gap;
+  And the village would suffer as heavy a slump
+  As it would from the loss of the old parish pump.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A HAPPY JUXTAPOSITION.
+
+    "CHEAPER MATCHES. | FRESH LIGHT ON THE KAISER'S PLOTS."
+
+    _Daily Mirror._
+
+From the report of a Royal investiture:--
+
+    "The first officer to mount the dais was Major ----, who wore
+    the broad-brimmed slouch hat of the Austrian Infantry."
+
+    _North China Daily News._
+
+A souvenir, of course.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SUPPLY AND DEMAND.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Mother (to maid, who has offered Marjorie some jam)._
+"OH NO, THANK YOU, NOT WITH THE _FIRST_ PIECE."
+
+_Marjorie._ "BUT, MUMMY, I HAVE GIVEN UP HAVING A FIRST PIECE NOW--WAR
+ECONOMY."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE TRENCH CODE.
+
+  Ah! with what awe, what infantile impatience,
+    We eyed the artifice when issued out,
+  And racked our brains about the Regulations,
+    And tried to think we had them free from doubt!
+  As Rome's old Fathers, reverently leaning
+    In secret cellars o'er the Sibyl's strain,
+         Beyond the fact that several pars
+         Had something vague to do with Mars,
+  Failed, as a rule, to find the smallest meaning,
+    But told the plebs the oracle was plain.
+
+  So did we study it, ourselves deceiving,
+    In hope to say, "We have no rations here,"
+  Or, "Please, Brigade, this regiment wants relieving,"
+    And "Thank you for the bombs--but why no beer?"
+  And wondered always, with a hint of presage,
+    Since never word emerged as it was planned,
+        If it was Hermes, Lord of Craft,
+        Compiled the code, or someone daft,
+  So that no mortal could compose a message
+    Which anybody else could understand.
+
+  Too soon the Staff, to spoil our tiny slumbers,
+    Or, as they said, to certify our skill,
+  Sent us a screed, all signs and magic numbers,
+    And what it signified is mystery still.
+  We flung them back a message yet more mazy
+    To say we weren't unravelling their own,
+        And marked it _urgent_, and designed
+        That it should reach them while they dined.
+  All night they toiled, till half the crowd were crazy
+    And bade us breathe its burthen o'er the 'phone.
+         *       *       *       *       *
+  But now they want it back--_and it is missing!_
+    And shall one patriot heart withhold a throb?
+  For four high officers have been here, hissing,
+    And plainly panicky about their job.
+  I know they think some dark, deluded bandit
+    Has gone and given it to KAISER BILL.
+        But though I'm grieved the General's cross,
+        I have no qualms about the loss--
+  If clever men like us can't understand it,
+    I don't suppose the Wilhelmstrasse will!
+
+A. P. H.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SPREAD OF THE TEMPERANCE MOVEMENT.
+
+    "I, J.A.H. De la Bere, of Woolsevy Rectory, Morchard Bishop,
+    Devon, desire to Alter my Surname to De la Fontaine."--_Times._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "WANTED
+
+    "end August in Swiss family (2 persons) living in villa near
+    Lausanne
+
+    "NURSERY'S MAID
+
+    "able to saw, iron attend at table and take entire care of
+    healthy baby 19 months old Good English accent serious
+    references." _La Tribune de Lausanne._
+
+We are glad to hear that the baby has a good English accent; he will be
+able to employ it with effect when the Nursery's Maid begins to saw and
+iron him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "In the cases in which the surgeon his obliged to vast empty a
+    bone so that offers then itself difficulties therapeuticals not
+    little because of pus and consequenty becauses of impossibility
+    of transplantations, plastics, plombages ecc., the A. propose to
+    go on the bone with specials inesions, not on the surface when
+    the bone is most superficial, but from the surface in which are
+    aboundings and easily cessible wet tissue, removing the margin
+    of the bone's cavity and mathing in mode as, by cause of
+    repaidis process, this tissue by hemselves adhere to a ground of
+    cavity and full it."--_La Clinica Chirurgica._
+
+That makes it perfectly clear.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: AVANTI, SAVOIA!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A DAUGHTER OF THE BACK STEPPES.
+
+_(Russia may not yet be quite sufficiently herself to be the martial
+ally that we could desire, but she still continues to send us the most
+delightful fiction. Mr. PUNCH is privileged in being able to offer his
+readers the opening of a new and fascinating story translated from the
+Russian of Ghastlilkoff.)_
+
+I was born in the year 18--, and I have never ceased to regret it. I
+lived with my grandmother. She was called Natasha. I do not know why.
+She had a large mole on her left cheek. Often she would embrace me with
+tears and lament over me, crying, "My little sad one, my little lonely
+one!" Yet I was not sad; I had too many griefs. Nor was I lonely, for I
+had no playmates.
+
+Often my grandmother told me I was ugly. I had no mirror, so I believed
+her. When I was sixteen a man I met in the street went mad for love of
+me and cut his throat. For the first time in my life I wondered if my
+grandmother always spoke the truth. I went home and wept, but when she
+asked me why I could not tell her.
+
+Our house was quite dark. It had three rooms leading in and out of one
+another, and no windows. There was not much fresh air. Every morning my
+grandmother went out to buy otchkza and pickled onions. The man who sold
+them was very old. He had a cast in each eye. He inquired of my
+grandmother if she would allow him to be my husband, but she refused.
+His name I do not remember.
+
+Our neighbours were very pleasant people, kindly and simple. There was a
+half-witted youth called Krop. He used to fill his mouth with large
+brass-headed nails. I did not dare to go near him, for he always tried
+to bite my arms. One day I learned that he had died. My grandmother
+bought me black silk mittens to wear at his funeral. I was very proud,
+and ran out into the road to show them to the other children. But in my
+haste I split them across from seam to seam, and my grandmother whipped
+me and put me to bed.
+
+My grandmother's chief friend was a woman who sold toasted cheese. It
+was her custom to bring round the delicacy on a small hand-cart and sell
+to the children for a few kopecks. This woman was reputed to be very
+rich. She was not beautiful, for she had no teeth, and had hair on her
+face. The first time I saw her I ran into the house and hid behind the
+large barrel of butter-milk. My grandmother took me by the ear and led
+me to her friend.
+
+"This is Ilonoka," she said. "She is a good girl."
+
+I remember that I cried very loud.
+
+Afterwards my grandmother told me that perhaps the woman would leave me
+all her money. Next time she came I wished to speak to her, but
+unfortunately I had a quinsy. When the woman eventually died it was
+discovered that she had been destitute for a long time. She left her
+hand-cart by will to my grandmother, and in her disappointment my
+grandmother beat me over the head with it. Soon afterwards my hair began
+to come out, and my grandmother said it was time I found a husband.
+
+Accordingly she went next door, where lived a woman with five sons. They
+were all out except one, and he had a sore leg. She brought him to me,
+and I cried very bitterly. He also. His name was Ivan, and I wished it
+had been Peter.
+
+The next day we were betrothed, and all our friends came to eat the
+feast that my grandmother provided. A school-fellow of mine, a very
+beautiful girl, was angry because I had a husband and not she. She
+scratched my face, and the blood ran on to my dress. Our friends
+congratulated us, and when they had gone my grandmother said it had been
+a great success. She and I finished what was left of the feast and went
+to bed. I remember that my feet were very cold, and when I fell asleep I
+dreamed that my betrothed's name was Peter. When I awoke I cried very
+loud, and my grandmother slapped my cheeks.
+
+Shortly afterwards she died, and I went to live with my uncle, who was a
+pawnbroker in Moscow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LONG-FACED CHUMS.
+
+  When Alexander won the world he knew not bombs nor guns,
+  His simple forms of frightfulness were quite unlike the Huns';
+  'Twas not by barking mortars that the pushful CAESAR scored;
+  He trusted close formations and the silent stabbing sword.
+
+  When ROLAND'S rearguard turned at bay, and from the furious press
+  The scuppered Paladin sent forth his famous S.O.S.,
+  Scared Roncesvalles rang loud with war, as misty legends tell,
+  But echo's ear was spared the shriek and crash of bursting shell.
+
+  So could you meet the shades of those whose prowess made Romance,
+  You'd find them only puzzled by your tales of stunts in France;
+  You'd have to cut the business out, and be content to chat
+  Of rations, grub, and officers--such odds and ends as that,
+
+  Unless you chanced to entertain some true rough-rider's ghost,
+  Who galloped after HANNIBAL, or with the Parthian host,
+  Some curled Assyrian prince who pranced, bareback, along a frieze--
+  Or one of RUPERT'S _beaux sabreurs_--a horseman--whom you please.
+
+  With chosen spirits such as those your talk need never end
+  If you are worthy of your spurs and count a horse your friend.
+  Just ask them "Did you clip trace-high?" or "Did you chaff your hay?"
+  Or boast about the gee you ride, and they'll have lots to say.
+
+  Cut out the talk of battle's din, of whizz-bangs and of crumps,
+  Of bombs and gas and hand-grenades, of mines and blazing dumps;
+  If you would wake their sympathy and warm their hearts indeed
+  Describe a Squadron watering, and then the fuss at "Feed!"
+
+  That lively bustle has a charm to wake a mummy's ear
+  Who, ere the Pyramids were planned, was mustered charioteer;
+  And many a horseman's spirit thrills by Lethe's drowsy brink
+  When in a strange, familiar dream his Troop comes down to drink!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From "The Story of the Haldane Missions":--
+
+    "The Kaiser laughingly remarked that he had better have the high
+    chair (in which the Kaiser usually sat at his council meetings).
+    He also gave Lord Haldane an Imperial cigar.... While discussing
+    the naval question, the Kaiser took a copy of the new Naval Bill
+    out of his pocket and handed it to Lord Haldane, who transferred
+    it to his pocket without looking at it."--_Daily Chronicle._
+
+He probably thought it was another of the Imperial cigars.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Grocer-fiend (who has treated three preceding customers
+to (a) "We ain't got no sugar;" (b) "We have none, Madam;" and (c) "No
+sugar in the shop"--to boy)._ "BE OFF. WE'VE GOT NO SUGAR!"
+
+_Boy._ "I DIDN'T ASK FOR NO SUGAR. I WANT A PENNORTH O' SODA--AN' THAT'S
+TAKEN THE' BLOOMING SWANK OUT OF YOU, AIN'T IT?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A STRAIGHT TALK WITH L. G.
+
+_(Everyone has views as to how to win the War, but not all are vocal,
+or--shall we say?--vociferous. If Mr. LLOYD GEORGE reads all the papers
+(as their Editors of course expect him to do) he cannot have missed
+quite a number of powerful articles in the following manner. And even if
+he should miss one or two it would not matter, because there is always
+another in preparation.)_
+
+I've always said that the PREMIER shouldn't be bothered with Parliament.
+Of course I've said too that our old friend Demos, the new god, should
+have a say in affairs; but that's an inconsistency that doesn't count in
+the least, does it?
+
+Now then, Mr. PREMIER, you've got the chance of your lifetime. I always
+said you were a lucky devil--in fact, I never met the Welshman that
+wasn't.
+
+You see, Parliament's in recess, and all its trivial overpaid Members
+are playing golf and things. You've got absolutely a free hand if only
+you'll take it. It's quite easy and bound to succeed. You've only got to
+do as I tell you.
+
+For instance, you want to buck up HAIG and the people at the Front. It's
+no use them telling you they know best, being on the spot. That's only
+bluff, old man. Don't take any notice of them, but just order a big
+general offensive; and before you can say Jack Robinson we'll have the
+Huns behind the Rhine.
+
+And do tell the Navy to get a move on. I'm glad to see my articles have
+made you change the heads at the Admiralty; and of course that's all
+very well so far as it goes. But it doesn't go far enough. _Have a chat
+with BEATTY about it._ Get him to root the Huns out. He can bombard
+Ostend and Zeebrugge and all those funny little places in two-twos. Tell
+KING ALBERT not to mind. We'll easily slap up new towns for him after
+the War, built on the speedy American principle.
+
+Then about that aerial offensive. There's really been quite enough talk
+about it. We want some action, Mr. PREMIER. Isn't it time it came off?
+Think what a bombardment of Cologne (taking care of the cathedral, _of
+course_), Frankfurt, Berlin, Essen and Hamburg would do, not to mention
+other places that I could if I had an atlas.
+
+And about those pacifists. Just clap the whole lot in gaol. That's the
+best place for them. I won't object in the least, even though I am the
+apostle of freedom.
+
+Then there are lots and lots of other things you might do. You might
+deliver a reasoned manifesto to the Russian people and buck them up a
+bit. That won't do anybody any harm, and _it'll be getting on with the
+War_, my little Welshman.
+
+Well, there are a few points for you to go on with. You've got the
+brains to think of more, otherwise I wouldn't have helped to put you
+where you are to-day. But remember that if you _don't_ do these things
+Demos is waiting round the corner for you.
+
+Demos is a good dog--a patient animal. But there's an end even to his
+patience. Growl, Demos, and show you're not afraid of Welshmen!
+
+("Grrr----!" Good dog! Good dog!)
+
+Now then, old boy, I've shown you the way. _It's up to you!_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Another powerful article on these lines will appear next week.
+
+[But not in _Punch_.-ED.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Caller at the office of the Inventions Board._ "'DURING
+WAR PREPARE FOR PEACE'--THAT MUST BE OUR MOTTO! AND MY SPECIAL PATENT
+SHELL-CASE IS THE VERY THING. A SHELL-CASE TO-DAY----AND A BLANC-MANGE
+MOULD TO-MORROW."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE ONLY OTHER TOPIC.
+
+"I shot a marrow into the--I mean I cut a marrow two feet seven inches
+long yesterday," said the man in the corner seat.
+
+"What did it weigh?" we asked anxiously. After two months of them
+potatoes had somewhat palled. We were growing rather tired of marrows,
+but we waited eagerly for his answer,
+
+"Twenty-six pounds nine and three-quarter ounces."
+
+Disappointment again. Our hopes were dashed to the ground. Some obscure
+individual, according to the local press, had produced from his humble
+cottage garden a marrow weighing thirty-four pounds, and the thing
+rankled.
+
+"Mine was a scraggy specimen, more like an Indian club than a marrow."
+
+"Crossed in love, perhaps," said Dalton.
+
+"What your marrow wanted was nourishment," said the Authority. "A piece
+of worsted round its neck, with one end dipped in a jar of water."
+
+"Excuse me," said Jones, "the very latest is to insert a tube in the
+stalk, and the flavour is greatly improved if you add a little sugar to
+the water. Almost like a melon."
+
+"Do you take a card out for each marrow, or one for each plant?" asked
+Dalton.
+
+The quiet man opposite put his paper down. He was a new-comer in the
+district. We liked him, although he had no sense of humour and did not
+appreciate Dalton's jokes. He appeared to be interested only in the
+startling and the odd.
+
+"That reminds me," he said, "of a most extraordinary experience I had a
+few days ago. Of course you all know Enderby?"
+
+None of us knew Enderby, but we I did not like to say so. The quiet
+man's anxiety was painful. We felt he could not go on with his story
+unless someone knew Enderby.
+
+"He has a little place round at the back of the Common--quite a nice
+little place." Freath--that was the quiet man's name--looked at us
+reproachfully.
+
+"I think I know Enderby," said Dalton. "Isn't he a heavily-built man
+about fifty, with a grey moustache?"
+
+"Yes, yes," said Freath eagerly. "And a curious wart on his left cheek.
+Well, I dined with him the other night. His boy was there, home for the
+holidays. Very clever boy; his special study is the biology of plants.
+They gave me a very good dinner; I didn't notice very much what I was
+eating, but I did when the maid helped me to marrow. It was a deep
+crimson colour. I tasted it somewhat nervously, for I felt they were all
+watching me. It had the taste of the most exquisite fruit, and the
+flavour--I am afraid you won't believe me--was that of the finest port
+that I ever drank. 'How did you manage this, Arthur?' said Enderby.
+'Grape-juice,' said Arthur. 'Those foreign black grapes are very cheap
+just now, so I mixed some with the water that I was feeding the marrows
+on.' I can't explain it to you; all I know is that I had a second
+helping. I am afraid you don't believe it," said Freath uneasily.
+
+We assured him that we did, but we did not say it with conviction.
+
+"Enderby called round to see me a few days afterwards," continued
+Freath, "and I walked back with him. As we went along he told me that a
+relative was staying with them--an uncle. The first night, again they
+had marrow for dinner. This time its flavour was not port but
+whisky--Scotch whisky. The old gentleman was delighted with Arthur and
+his experiments. Although an abstainer he had three helpings. This was
+very pleasing to Enderby, as the uncle was a man of considerable wealth.
+But he was not at all satisfied with his son's explanations, and he
+thought he recognised the whisky. Although an abstainer while the War is
+on, Enderby keeps a very good cellar, and when he came to look into
+things he found that Arthur had been pumping his finest '60 port and old
+matured Scotch whisky into the vegetable marrows. Now what do you think
+of that?"
+
+We thought it very strange and we said so.
+
+"But the strangest part has yet to come. Of course they had to keep it
+quiet--bottle it up, so to speak, from the old gentleman, and let the
+marrows down gradually. But when the marrows were once more on a
+temperance _regime_ the most extraordinary thing happened." The train
+was running into Finsbury Park. Freath rose and collected his things.
+
+We stared at him, fascinated.
+
+"Enderby took me into the garden to see it. He said it had been going on
+for the last week. From all directions, rioting across the flower-beds,
+the lawn, down the paths, the marrows were growing towards the
+wine-cellar at the rate of twelve feet a day."
+
+Freath hastily left the carriage and jumped into the Broad Street train.
+
+While we were discussing the story the voice of authority spoke: "The
+whole thing's a tissue of falsehood. There's no such man as Enderby."
+
+"But Dalton knows him," we said.
+
+"I don't know Enderby," said Dalton. "But I wanted to hear the story."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AT THE PLAY.
+
+"THE PACIFISTS."
+
+As a reasonable jusquaboutist I have some misgivings about Mr. HENRY
+ARTHUR JONES'S farce--parable, _The Pacifists_. Assume _Market
+Pewbury's_ afflictions to have been as stated: an intolerable stalwart
+cad of a butcher fencing-in the best part of the common, assaulting
+people's grandmothers, shutting them up in coal-cellars and eating their
+crumpets, kissing their wives in the market square and proposing to
+abduct them to seaside resorts, and none so bold to do him violence and
+make him stop it; the police being ill or absent, the Mayor and his
+friend, chief victim of the butcher's aggression, unwilling on account
+of principles to do anything but talk and get up leagues to deal with
+the trouble in general, and in a final ecstasy of disapproval to write a
+strong letter; only uncle _Belcher_, a truculent old sea-dog with a
+natural lust for whisky and blood, organising an opposition, valiantly
+hiring a notable pugilist to deal with the butcher, and becoming
+desperately anxious lest the matter should be peaceably settled because
+the basher, having been engaged, _must_ find something to bash or there
+will be trouble. Well, if we must have forged for us the sword of a
+three-Act parable, we should like it with one edge, not two.
+
+Mr. JONES was evidently bursting with the desire to give some irritating
+people a very hard knock--witness the barbed dedication with which the
+normally peaceful theatre-announcement columns have bristled some little
+time past; and I think I dare say that we were interested in his first
+Act. He did really work out his analogies with some skill. But we soon
+came to feel that he was essentially doing something between flogging a
+dead horse, so far as we were concerned, and shooting a sitting rabbit.
+I suspect too that we realised the issues were too tragic for this kind
+of buffoonery. The tribute of our applause was a tribute of loyalty to
+one who has often deserved well of the republic, and partly the desire
+to show that our hearts were in the right place. I don't see _The
+Pacifists_ as a pamphlet making many converts. As a kick on the shins it
+has points.
+
+I confess the thing that pleased me most was a gay little piece of
+burlesque by Mr. ARTHUR CHESNEY as the red-haired shop assistant who was
+_not_ a pacifist. Mr. CHARLES GLENNEY so thoroughly enjoyed the
+robustious sea-captain that we had to enjoy it too--a sound notion of
+entertainment, that. Mr. SEBASTIAN SMITH played chief rabbit with
+considerable skill and point; Mr. LENNOX PAWLE amused with his plump
+dundrearyed mayor; Mr. SAM LIVESEY'S offensive was, I am sure, as
+Hunnish as its author could possibly have desired. Miss ELLIS JEFFREYS
+appeared in the first Act as a very plausible imitation of a prominent
+tradesman's wife in an eighth-rate provincial town, with some quite
+excellent moments. But she was evidently labouring under severe strain,
+and I amused myself by speculating how long she would keep out of a
+really well-cut skirt and a sophisticated air of Mayfair. Just an Act.
+And surely she is mistaken in thinking that an effect of extreme
+agitation is best conveyed, by very rapid quasi-cinematographic
+progression up and down the stage? But I saw no reason to complain of
+the bold bad butcher's taste in the matter of a subject for abduction.
+
+T.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Sergeant (to Private Simpkins arriving two days late)._
+"WELL, SIMPKINS, SO YOU'VE TURNED UP, HAVE YOU?"
+
+_Simpkins._ "YES, SERGEANT. BUT YOU ARE LUCKY TO GET ME. WHAT WITH
+DOMESTIC TROUBLE AND ALL THAT DELUGE OF RAIN I NEARLY MADE A SEPARATE
+PEACE."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BUCEPHALUS AND THE ROAD-HOGS.
+
+When Miss Ropes asked at breakfast how many of us would like to watch
+the very last cricket-match of the season at Lumsdale, practically the
+entire hospital held up its hand, and it was found that the two cars
+could not accommodate us all. It was therefore settled that Haynes (who
+said he knew the moves) should drive Ansell and me over in the
+governess-cart.
+
+It was also settled that the crew of the governess-cart should have an
+early cold lunch and start an hour before the cars; thus (it was
+calculated) we should all arrive at the cricket-ground fairly well
+together. This did not take Haynes' driving into account. We started
+from the door at a very satisfactory pace, probably because Bucephalus,
+the fat pony, objected to the enthusiasm of our send-off. When we
+reached the road he dropped into an amble so gentle that we decided that
+he had really been running away in the drive. Next, taking advantage of
+an almost imperceptible upward slope, he began to walk. Haynes clucked
+at him and flapped the reins, but this had no effect beyond steering
+Bucephalus into the left-hand ditch.
+
+"I thought you said you knew the moves," remarked Ansell. "Surely this
+is wrong?"
+
+"The bally beast's lopsided," said Haynes with heat. "One side of his
+mouth's hard and the other soft."
+
+"The difficulty being," I suggested as we lurched across the road into
+the other ditch, "to discover which is which.... Now you're straight.
+We'd better trot. It's only a one-day match."
+
+Haynes used the ancient whip, which had as much effect as tickling a
+rhinoceros with a feather.
+
+"Goad him with a penknife," suggested Ansell unfeelingly.
+
+"There must be some way," said Haynes. "Because they _do_ trot, you
+know."
+
+"Speaking as one ignorant amateur to another," I asked, "isn't the right
+thing to pull gently on the reins and then slacken? You go on doing it
+till the animal gets your meaning. Try it."
+
+Haynes tried it, and Bucephalus stopped dead. Repetition of the
+treatment simply produced a tendency to back.
+
+"For heaven's sake don't lose any of the ground we've gained," said
+Ansell. "Let's get on, if only at a walk."
+
+"We shall have to tow him," decided Haynes. He got out and hauled at the
+bridle, but Bucephalus refused to budge.
+
+"This," said Ansell, becoming suddenly business-like, "is where the Boy
+Hero modestly but firmly takes charge. Jump in."
+
+He picked up the reins and, though he apparently did nothing in
+particular with them, Bucephalus came to life at once and broke into a
+lumbering trot.
+
+"You silly chump, why didn't you say you could drive?" asked Haynes.
+
+"Nobody asked me," said the Boy Hero modestly, "and I was shy."
+
+At the time when we had been scheduled to reach the cricket-ground we
+had still a mile to go along a narrow leafy road, hardly more than a
+lane. The cars were overdue, and Haynes, whose haughty spirit could not
+brook the idea of being passed by jeering plutocrats, propounded a
+scheme.
+
+"They can't pass us unless we go into the ditch," he explained. "So when
+they come we'll pretend to be asleep, take up the middle of the road,
+and simply ignore them. We'll get there first, after all."
+
+A moment later we heard the buzz of engines. I took a hurried glance
+round and saw the sunlight on brasswork as the car came round a distant
+corner.
+
+"It's them," I said.
+
+The reins dropped slackly on Bucephalus's back and he slowed to a walk.
+Inside the governess-cart all was somnolent peace. Behind us the car was
+already beginning to make remarks on one of those abusive
+press-the-button horns. "You FOOL! You FOOL! Get OUT o' the way! Get OUT
+o' the way!" it said. Then we heard the car slow down and pandemonium
+broke loose. The horn was reinforced by an ordinary hooter, a whistle,
+several human voices and, lastly, an exhaust siren. I stole a glance at
+Ansell and found that he was having a good deal of surreptitious trouble
+in restraining our fiery steed from doing a second bolt.
+
+"I say," whispered Haynes in sudden agitation, "_has_ Miss Ropes an
+exhaust siren?"
+
+"No, she hasn't," Ansell replied in tones of horror. "We've held up the
+wrong car." He looked round. "Good Lord!" he added softly and pulled
+Bucephalus into the ditch. In the car, with a grinning Tommy at the
+wheel, sat two apoplectic generals and a highly explosive brigade-major.
+They came alongside, and I should never be allowed to repeat what they
+said to us. It seemed that by delaying them we had been hindering the
+day's work of the entire Home Forces. We were given to understand that
+it was only the blue bands on our arms which saved us from being
+court-martialled on the spot and shot by the grinning Tommy at dawn.
+Then they passed on.
+
+When our cars did appear a minute or two later we pulled meekly into the
+ditch to let them pass, and could find no better answer to the jeers of
+their occupants than a wan sickly smile apiece.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE TEST OF TYPE.
+
+_(Suggested by these adjacent paragraphs in a daily paper.)_
+
+    "Maj. ----. For conspicuous gallantry and resource. He rallied
+    his men when the left flank was seriously threatened, and by his
+    energy and fine example saved the situation. He subsequently
+    commanded his battalion with great ability. He has displayed
+    marked gallantry in every action in which he has taken part."
+
+    "A London angler, Mr. ----, has caught a roach of 2 lb. 1 oz. in
+    the Lark at Barton Mills, the largest fish of its kind landed
+    from this Suffolk stream for some years."
+
+  Though in these times monopolized by Mars
+    There's not a day that passes but one reads--
+  Sandwiched between unprofitable "pars"
+    And other wholly negligible screeds--
+  Of decorations, crosses, medals, bars,
+    Bestowed for valiant and heroic deeds;
+  Over these records we must often pass
+  Unless we've got a magnifying-glass!
+
+  But if some member of a fishing club
+    In London or the provinces, renowned
+  For prowess with the lob-worm or the grub,
+    Should land a roach of more than half a pound,
+  Then in the leading papers of the hub
+    Full space for that achievement will be found,
+  And clearest type and unaffected rapture
+  Will signalize the epoch-making capture!
+
+  The moral of the episode is plain:
+    If soldiers wish to petrify the nation,
+  Let them--when leave permits--no more disdain
+    To join a Roach or Perch Association,
+  Cull giant gooseberries, and strive to gain
+    Prizes for Blind-fold Pig Delineation.
+  Thus only--not by cross or golden stripe--
+  Will they achieve the honour of big type.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: REPRISALS.
+
+_Competitor (in international contest)._ "THE BLIGHTER'S BIT ME."
+
+_Referee._ "WELL, AIN'T YER GOT NO TEETH OF YER OWN? BOX ON."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SHAKSPEARE AND THE WAR.
+
+[Since the entry of the United States all the English-speaking peoples
+are in alliance for freedom.]
+
+  I think our SHAKSPEARE, gone this many a year
+    To some rich haven where the poets throng
+    And Ruler of Ten Cities wrought in song
+  And spired with rhythmic music, high and clear,
+  Still finds his England something close and dear,
+    Rejoicing when her justice baffles wrong
+    And willing her to wrestle and be strong.
+  I think he bides by England and is near.
+
+  And, in the purpose of his Overlord,
+    His weaving spirit, still in cloudless youth
+  With minstrelsy made perfect, throws a cord
+    That rings the continents in its magic reach
+    To gather all who share his English speech
+  In one firm warrior bond of troth and truth.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"LET LAWS AND LEARNING..."
+
+    "I should add that Viscount Harberton sees a chance for his own
+    order in the circumstance that, while the poor man's child is
+    driven to school by the inspector, the rich man can 'boot the
+    spy out,' and so confer on his children the priceless boon of
+    complete illiteracy. Shall we live to see a House of Lords that
+    makes its mark?"--_Observer._
+
+Some of them, we believe, are under the impression that they have done
+so already.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)
+
+Unless you can share with me the sad immunity of the forties, I must
+despair of translating for you the emotion raised in my antique soul by
+the wrapper of a new RIDER HAGGARD story bearing the picture of a Zulu
+and the discovery inside that _Quatermain_ is come again! The tale that
+has so excited me is called, a little ominously, _Finished_ (WARD,
+LOCK), and I could have better loved a cheerier title. The matter is, to
+begin with, an affair of a shady doctor, of I.D.B. and an abduction;
+none of it, I admit, any too absorbing. But about halfway through the
+author, as though sharing my own views upon this part of the plot,
+exchanges (so to speak) the Shady for the Black, and transports us all
+to Zululand. And if you need reminding of what H.R.H. can do with that
+delectable country, I can only say I am sorry for you. Incidentally
+there are some stirring scenes from certain pages of history that the
+glare of these later days has rather faded--Isandhlwana and Rorke's
+Drift among them; as well as the human drama of the feud between
+CETEWAYO (terror of my nursery!) and the witch-doctor _Zikali_. Whether
+the old careless rapture is altogether recovered is another matter; at
+least the jolly unpronounceable names are still there, and the
+picturesque speech. Most of the names, that is; _Allan_ of course, and
+others, but I for one should have welcomed rare _Umslopogaas_--or
+however he is rightly spelt--and _Curtis_, for personal reasons my
+favourite of the gallant company that have so often kept secret
+rendezvous with me behind the unlifted lid of a desk at preparation
+time. And now have we really come at long last to _Finished_? I can only
+hope that Sir H. RIDER HAGGARD doesn't mean it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. HUMPHRY WARD may be numbered amongst the most indefatigable of
+women war-workers. She has now followed up her former success in
+_England's Effort_ with a volume carrying on the story of our part in
+the War under the title of _Towards the Goal_ (MURRAY). The book is
+written in the form of a series of letters addressed to ex-President
+ROOSEVELT, as the onlie begetter both of it and its predecessor. It is
+further equipped with a preface by the hand of this same able and
+clear-sighted gentleman, the chief drawback of which (from my reviewing
+point of view) is that it covers so well the whole ground of
+appreciation as to leave me nothing more to add. "Mrs. Ward writes nobly
+on a noble theme"--_voila tout!_ Her theme, as I have hinted, is a
+further exposition of Britain's war activities as those have developed
+since the former book was published. In its course Mrs. WARD gives us
+some vivid experiences of her own as a visitor to the Western Front:
+things seen and heard, well calculated (were this needed) to stiffen the
+resolution of the great people to whom her letters are really written.
+_England's Effort_ was, I understand, translated into many tongues (with
+results that can hardly fail of being enormously valuable); _Towards the
+Goal_ should certainly receive the same treatment of which it is well
+worthy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mr. WILLIAM HARBUTT DAWSON, in his _After War Problems_ (ALLEN AND
+UNWIN), covers, under the four headings, Empire and Citizenship, Natural
+Efficiency, Social Reform, and National Finance and Taxation,
+bewilderingly wide ground, and drives a perhaps rather mandarinish team
+of contributors. Lord HALDANE, for instance, is no longer in the real
+van of educational endeavour, and is it wholly insignificant that his
+chapter on Education appears in the section headed National Efficiency
+rather than in that of Social Reform? It ought not to be difficult to
+give, in the light of these last years, a wider interpretation to
+Patriotism than that expressed by Lord MEATH on lines familiar to his
+public. Sir WILLIAM CHANCE has seen no new sign in the skies in relation
+to the problem of poverty. Sir BENJAMIN BROWNE, whose death all those
+interested in the settlement of the Capital-Labour quarrel must deplore,
+as for all his uncompromising individualism he brought to it a rare
+breadth of view, says much that is of real value, but does not refrain
+from appealing to the fact that the mutual confidence of man and officer
+in battle is a proof of the possibility of a similar confidence in the
+workshop. That confidence must, and can, we dare to believe, eventually
+be established. But the men don't go over the top to put money in the
+Colonel's pocket, and little good is done by exploiting these loose
+analogies and putting on a too easy air of optimism in the face of
+desperately serious and complex problems. But enough of fault-finding,
+which is a poor reward for the serious and generous labours of
+public-spirited men and women. After all, what one reader calls timidity
+of outlook another may care to praise as prudence. Here you will find an
+abundance of safe analysis, wise comment and constructive suggestion
+from a galaxy of accredited authorities.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the early chapters of Mr. WILLIAM HEWLETT'S new story, _The
+Plot-Maker_ (DUCKWORTH), we are introduced to a popular and highly
+successful novelist, named _Coulthard Henderson_, in the emotional
+crisis produced by a sudden doubt as to whether his output of
+best-sellers represented anything in the least approaching actuality.
+You will admit a tragic situation. He meets it by the determination that
+his next book shall be a veritable slice of life, and to this end he
+selects and finances an eligible young man for the purpose of
+vicariously experiencing those emotions, from which age and other causes
+debar the chronicler; in other words, he hires a hero. The worst of this
+excellent idea is that it can hardly be said to originate either with
+_Mr. Henderson_ or Mr. HEWLETT, that credit belonging (I fancy) to the
+late HERBERT FLOWERDEW in a too-little-appreciated masterpiece of
+sensational burlesque called _The Realist_. However, _The Plot-Maker_,
+once set going, develops admirably enough on lines entirely its own. The
+so-much-an-hour hero turns out an engaging young gentleman, but a
+wofully poor protagonist. The situation where (in the midst of whirling
+events) he makes the startling discovery that he himself has been in
+some way switched on to the part of villain is one that you can
+appreciate only at first hand. Certainly if you want (as who does not in
+these days?) an anaesthetic of agreeable nonsense _The Plot-Maker_ is a
+medium that I can cordially recommend: one obvious advantage being that
+you need not try to believe a single word of it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF.
+
+From a publisher's list:--
+
+    "Shells as evidence of the Migrations of Early Culture."
+
+And modern Kultur spreads itself in just the same old way.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "Lady Required to Share Rome with another."
+
+    _Staffordshire Sentinel_.
+
+But what about the King of ITALY, not to mention the POPE?
+
+
+[Illustration: _Eastern Potentate (rusticating)_. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA, MY
+DEAR FRIEND, HOW SOOTHING IT IS TO ME TO GET AWAY FROM THE LUXURIOUS AND
+ARTIFICIAL LIFE OF THE COURT AND TO SPEND MY WEEK-ENDS IN QUIET
+RETIREMENT HERE IN THE COUNTRY WHERE A FRIEND MAY DROP IN FOR POT LUCK
+AND TAKE US IN THE ROUGH."]
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL.
+153, SEPT. 12, 1917***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 10594.txt or 10594.zip *******
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