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diff --git a/10614-h/10614-h.htm b/10614-h/10614-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..777ed33 --- /dev/null +++ b/10614-h/10614-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1657 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153, Sept. 5, 1917, by Various</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10614 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153, +Sept. 5, 1917, by Various, Edited by Owen Seamen</h1> +<br /> +<center><b>E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram,<br /> + Punch, or the London Charivari,<br /> + William Flis,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</b></center> +<br /> +<hr class="full" /> +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> +<h2>Vol. 153.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>September 5, 1917.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" id="page167"></a>[pg +167]</span> +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> +<p>The Kaiser has again visited the High Seas Fleet in security at +Wilhelmshaven. Enthusiastic applause greeted the brief speech in +which he urged them "to stick to it."</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>There is no truth in the rumour that one of the recently escaped +Huns got away disguised as Mr. RAMSAY MACDONALD.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Some commotion was caused in the Strand last week when a +policeman accused a man of whistling for a taxi-cab. Later, +however, the policeman accepted the gentleman's plea that he was +not whistling, but that was his natural face.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>From the latest reports from Dover we gather that this year the +Channel has decided to swim Great Britain.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>As a result of the excessive rain a nigger troupe at Margate +were seen to pale visibly.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Fortunately for the Americans there is one man who will stand by +them in their hour of trouble. According to a Spanish news message +Mr. JACK JOHNSON has decided not to return to America.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Owing to the scarcity of matches we understand that many smokers +now adopt the plan of waiting for the fire-engine to turn out and +then proceed to the conflagration to get a light.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A catfish has been caught at Hastings. It died worth a lady's +gold bracelet and a small pocket-knife.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The Norwegian explorer, ROALD AMUNDSEN, is preparing for a trip +to the North Pole in 1918. Additional interest now attaches to this +spot as being the only territory whose neutrality the Germans have +omitted to violate.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Russian tea is being sold in London at 12s. 7d. a pound. It is +remarkable that, with the country in its present disorganised +condition, the Russian merchants can still hold their own without +the assistance of a Food Controller.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A room for quick luncheons, not to cost more than 1s. 3d., has +been opened in Northumberland Avenue for busy Government officials. +It is hoped eventually to provide room to enable a few other people +to join the GEDDES family at their mid-day meal.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>KING CONSTANTINE, says a despatch, has rented an expensive villa +overlooking Lake Zurich. Just the thing for an ex-pensive +monarch.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>We are requested to say that the man named Smith, charged at Bow +Police Court the other day, is in no way connected with the other +Mr. Smiths.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>At a vegetable show at Godalming, 5,780 dead butterflies were +exhibited by children. It is understood that the pacifists are +protesting against this encouragement of the martial spirit among +the young.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Considerable annoyance has been caused in Government circles by +the announcement that "at last the War Office has been aroused." +Officials there, however, deny the accusation.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER has received four hundred pounds +from an anonymous donor towards the cost of the War. The donor, it +appears, omitted to specify which part of the War he would like to +pay for.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Germany has at last addressed a reply to the Argentine Republic, +pointing out that strict orders have been issued to U-boat +commanders that ships flying the Argentine flag must always be +torpedoed by accident.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Mammoth marrows have been reported from several districts, and +it is now rumoured that Sir DOUGLAS HAIG is busy developing a giant +squash.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>An official report states that there are three hundred and +forty-three ice-cream shops in Wandsworth. Unfortunately this is +not the only indication of an early winter.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A potato closely resembling the German CROWN PRINCE has been dug +up at Reading. This is very good for a beginning, but our amateur +potato-growers must produce a HINDENBURG if we are to win the +War.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A woman walked into a shop at Cuckfield and settled a bill sent +to her twenty-four years ago, but it is not stated whether she was +really able to obtain any sugar.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The R.S.P.C.A. grows more and more alert. A man who hid three +and a half pounds of stolen margarine in his horse's nose-bag has +just been fined five pounds.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Dogs," says the Acton magistrate, "are not allowed to bite +people they dislike." All the same there have been times when we +have felt that it would have been an act of supererogation to +explain to the postman that our dog was really attached to him.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A taxi-cab driver has been fined two pounds for using abusive +language to a policeman. Only his explanation, that he thought he +was addressing a fare, saved him from a heavier penalty.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/doctor.png"><img width="100%" src="images/doctor.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h4><i>Doctor</i>. "YOUR THROAT IS IN A VERY BAD STATE. HAVE YOU +EVER TRIED GARGLING WITH SALT WATER?"</h4> +<h4><i>Skipper</i>. "Yus, I'VE BEEN TORPEDOED SIX TIMES."</h4> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>A War Bargain.</h2> +<blockquote>"BRIGHTON.—A small General for Sale through old +age. No reasonable offer refused."—<i>West Sussex +Gazette</i>.</blockquote> +<hr /> +<blockquote>"An enormous burden of detail is thus taken off the +shareholders of the Munitions Minister."—<i>Liverpool Daily +Post</i>.</blockquote> +<p>This will strengthen the belief that Mr. CHURCHILL is not a man +but a syndicate.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote>"From that successful German campaign sprang the United +Terrific Peoples—the Modern German Empire."—<i>Nigerian +Pioneer</i>.</blockquote> +<p>The author wrote "Teutonic Peoples," but the native compositor +thought he knew better—and perhaps he did.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" id="page168"></a>[pg +168]</span> +<h2>ONE STAR.</h2> +<p>Occasionally I receive letters from friends whom I have not seen +lately addressed to Lieutenant M—— and apologising +prettily inside in case I am by now a colonel; in drawing-rooms I +am sometimes called "Captain-er"; and up at the Fort the other day +a sentry of the Royal Defence Corps, wearing the +Créçy medal, mistook me for a Major, and presented +crossbows to me. This is all wrong. As Mr. GARVIN well points out, +it is important that we should not have a false perspective of the +War. Let me, then, make it perfectly plain—I am a Second +Lieutenant.</p> +<p>When I first became a Second Lieutenant I was rather proud. I +was a Second Lieutenant "on probation." On my right sleeve I wore a +single star. So:</p> +<pre> + * +</pre> +<p>(on probation, of course).</p> +<p>On my left sleeve I wore another star. So:</p> +<pre> + * +</pre> +<p>(also on probation).</p> +<p>They were good stars, none better in the service; and as we +didn't like the sound of "on probation" Celia put a few stitches in +them to make them more permanent. This proved effective. Six months +later I had a very pleasant note from the KING telling me that the +days of probation were now over, and making it clear that he and I +were friends.</p> +<p>I was now a real Second Lieutenant. On my right sleeve I had a +single star. Thus:</p> +<pre> + * +</pre> +<p>(not on probation).</p> +<p>On my left sleeve I also had a single star. In this manner:</p> +<pre> + * +</pre> +<p>This star also was now a fixed one.</p> +<p>From that time forward my thoughts dwelt naturally on promotion. +There were exalted persons in the regiment called Lieutenants. They +had two stars on each sleeve. So:</p> +<pre> + * * +</pre> +<p>I decided to become a Lieutenant.</p> +<p>Promotion in our regiment was difficult. After giving the matter +every consideration I came to the conclusion that the only way to +win my second star was to save the Colonel's life. I used to follow +him about affectionately in the hope that be would fall into the +sea. He was a big strong man and a powerful swimmer, but once in +the water it would not be difficult to cling round his neck and +give an impression that I was rescuing him. However, he refused to +fall in. I fancy that he wore somebody's Military Soles which +prevent slipping.</p> +<p>Years rolled on. I used to look at my stars sometimes, one on +each sleeve; they seemed very lonely. At times they came close +together; but at other times, as, for instance, when I was +semaphoring, they were very far apart. To prevent these occasional +separations Celia took them off my sleeves and put them on my +shoulders. One on each shoulder. So:</p> +<pre> + * +</pre> +<p>And so:</p> +<pre> + * +</pre> +<p>There they stayed.</p> +<p>And more years rolled on.</p> +<p>One day Celia came to me in great excitement.</p> +<p>"Have you seen this in the paper about promotion?" she said +eagerly.</p> +<p>"No; what is it?" I asked. "Are they making more generals?"</p> +<p>"I don't know about generals; it's Second Lieutenants being +Lieutenants."</p> +<p>"You're joking on a very grave subject," I said seriously. "You +can't expect to win the War if you go on like that."</p> +<p>"Well, you read it," she said, handing me the paper. "It's a +committee of Mr. WINSTON CHURCHILL'S."</p> +<p>I took the paper with a trembling hand, and read. She was right! +If the paper was to be believed, all Second Lieutenants were to +become Lieutenants after eighteen years' service. At last my chance +had come.</p> +<p>"My dear, this is wonderful," I said. "In another fifteen years +we shall be nearly there. You might buy two more stars this +afternoon and practise sewing them on, in order to be ready. You +mustn't be taken by surprise when the actual moment comes."</p> +<p>"But you're a Lieutenant <i>now</i>," she said, "if that's true. +It says that 'after eighteen months—'"</p> +<p>I snatched up the paper again. Good Heavens! it was eighteen +<i>months</i>—not years.</p> +<p>"Then I <i>am</i> a Lieutenant," I said.</p> +<p>We had a bottle of champagne for dinner that night, and Celia +got the paper and read it aloud to my tunic. And just for practice +she took the two stars off my other tunic and sewed them on this +one—thus:</p> +<pre> + ** ** +</pre> +<p>And we had a very happy evening.</p> +<p>"I suppose it will be a few days before it's officially +announced," I said.</p> +<p>"Bother, I suppose it will," said Celia, and very reluctantly +she took one star off each shoulder, leaving the +matter—so:</p> +<pre> + * * +</pre> +<p>And the months rolled on.</p> +<p>And I am still a Second Lieutenant ...</p> +<p>I do not complain; indeed I am even rather proud of it. If I am +not gaining on my original one star, at least I am keeping pace +with it. I might so easily have been a corporal by now.</p> +<p>But I should like to have seen a little more notice taken of me +in the <i>Gazette</i>. I scan it every day, hoping for some such +announcement as this:</p> +<p>"<i>Second Lieutenant M—— to remain a Second +Lieutenant.</i>"</p> +<p>Or this:</p> +<p>"<i>Second Lieutenant M—— to be seconded and to +retain his present rank of Second Lieutenant.</i>"</p> +<p>Or even this:</p> +<p>"<i>Second Lieutenant M—— relinquishes the rank of +Acting Second Lieutenant on ceasing to command a Battalion, and +reverts to the rank of Second Lieutenant.</i>"</p> +<p>Failing this, I have thought sometimes of making an announcement +in the Personal Column of <i>The Times</i>:</p> +<p>"Second Lieutenant M—— regrets that his duties as a +Second Lieutenant prevent him from replying personally to the many +kind inquiries he has received, and begs to take this opportunity +of announcing that he still retains a star on each shoulder. Both +doing well."</p> +<p>But perhaps that is unnecessary now. I think that by this time I +have made it clear just how many stars I possess.</p> +<p>One on the right shoulder. So:</p> +<pre> + * +</pre> +<p>And one on the left shoulder. So:</p> +<pre> + * +</pre> +<p>That is all.</p> +<p>A.A.M.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE FOUNTAIN.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Upon the terrace where I play</p> +<p>A little fountain sings all day</p> +<p class="i8">A tiny tune:</p> +<p>It leaps and prances in the air—</p> +<p>I saw a little fairy there</p> +<p class="i8">This afternoon.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The jumping fountain never stops—</p> +<p>He sat upon the highest drops</p> +<p class="i8">And bobbed about.</p> +<p>His legs were waving in the sun,</p> +<p>He seemed to think it splendid fun,</p> +<p class="i8">I heard him shout.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The sparrows watched him from a tree,</p> +<p>A robin bustled up to see</p> +<p class="i8">Along the path:</p> +<p>I thought my wishing-bone would break,</p> +<p>I wished so much that I could take</p> +<p class="i8">A fairy bath.</p> +</div> +R.F.</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<h3>"LIBRARY NOTES.</h3> +"Mr. Buttling Sees It Thru, H.G. Wells."—<i>Citronelle +Call</i> (<i>Alabama, U.S.A.</i>).</blockquote> +<p>Rumours that Mr. WELLS is a convert to the "nu speling" may now +be safely contradicted.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page169" id="page169"></a>[pg +169]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/premier.png"><img width="100%" src="images/premier.png" +alt="" /></a> +<h2>"KEEP THE HOME FIRES BURNING."</h2> +<h3>SOLO BY OUR OPTIMISTIC PREMIER.</h3> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page170" id="page170"></a>[pg +170]</span> +<h2>THE MUD LARKS.</h2> +<p>I am living at present in one of those villages in which the +retreating Hun has left no stone unturned. With characteristic +thoroughness he fired it first, then blew it up, and has been +shelling it ever since. What with one thing and another, it is in +an advanced state of dilapidation; in fact, if it were not that one +has the map's word for it, and a notice perched on a heap of +brick-dust saying that the Town Major may be found within, the +casual wayfarer might imagine himself in the Sahara, Kalahari, or +the south end of Kingsway.</p> +<p>Some of these French towns are very difficult to recognise as +such; only the trained detective can do it. A certain Irish +Regiment was presented with the job of capturing one. The scheme +was roughly this. They were to climb the parapet at 5.25 A.M. and +rush a quarry some one hundred yards distant. After half-an-hour's +breather they were to go on to some machine-gun emplacements, +dispose of these, wait a further twenty minutes, and then take the +town. Distance barely one thousand yards in all. Promptly at zero +the whole field spilled over the bags, as the field spills over the +big double at Punchestown, paused at the quarry only long enough to +change feet on the top, and charged yelling at the machine guns. +Then being still full of fun and <i>joie de vivre</i>, and having +no officers left to hamper their fine flowing style, they ducked +through their own barrage and raced all out for the final +objective. Twenty minutes later, two miles further on, one +perspiring private turned to his panting chum, "For the love of +God, Mike, aren't we getting in the near of this damn town +yet?"</p> +<p>I have a vast respect for HINDENBURG (a man who can drink the +mixtures he does, and still sit up and smile sunnily into the jaws +of a camera ten times a day, is worthy of anybody's veneration) but +if he thought that by blowing these poor little French villages +into small smithereens he would deprive the B.E.F. of headcover and +cause it to catch cold and trot home to mother, he will have to sit +up late and do some more thinking. For Atkins of to-day is a +knowing bird; he can make a little go the whole distance and +conjure plenty out of nothingness. As for cover, two bricks and his +shrapnel hat make a very passable pavilion. Goodness knows it would +puzzle a guinea-pig to render itself inconspicuous in our village, +yet I have watched battalion after battalion march into it and be +halted and dismissed. Half an hour later there is not a soul to be +seen. They have all gone to ground. My groom and countryman went in +search of wherewithal to build a shelter for the horses. He saw a +respectable plank sticking out of a heap of débris, laid +hold on it and pulled. Then—to quote him +<i>verbatim</i>—"there came a great roarin' from in undernath +of it, Sor, an' a black divil of an infantryman shoved his head up +through the bricks an' drew down sivin curses on me for pullin' the +roof off his house. Then he's afther throwin' a bomb at me, Sor, so +I came away. Ye wouldn't be knowin' where to put your fut down in +this place, Sor, for the dhread of treadin' in the belly of an +officer an' him aslape."</p> +<p>Some people have the bungalow mania and build them <i>bijoux +maisonettes</i> out of biscuit tins, sacking and what-not, but the +majority go to ground. I am one of the majority; I go to ground +like a badger, for experience has taught me that a +dug-out—cramped, damp, dark though it maybe—cannot be +stolen from you while you sleep; that is to say, thieves cannot +come along in the middle of the night, dig it up bodily by the +roots and cart it away in a G.S. waggon without you, the occupant, +being aware that some irregularity is occurring to the home. On the +other hand, in this country, where the warrior, when he falls on +sleep suffers a sort of temporary death, bungalows can be easily +purloined from round about him without his knowledge; and what is +more, frequently are.</p> +<p>For instance, a certain bungalow in our village was stolen as +frequently as three times in one night. This was the way of it. One +Todd, a foot-slogging Lieutenant, foot-slogged into our midst one +day, borrowed a hole from a local rabbit, and took up his residence +therein. Now this mud-pushing Todd had a cousin in the same +division, one of those highly trained specialists who trickles +about the country shedding coils of barbed wire and calling them +"dumps"—a sapper, in short. One afternoon the sapping Todd, +finding some old sheets of corrugated iron that he had neglected to +dump, sent them over to his gravel-grinding cousin with his love +and the request of a loan of a dozen of soda. The earth-pounding +Todd came out of his hole, gazed on the corrugated iron and saw +visions, dreamed dreams. He handed the hole back to the rabbit and +set to work to evolve a bungalow. By evening it was complete. He +crawled within and went to sleep, slept like a drugged dormouse. At +10 P.M. a squadron of the Shetland Ponies (for the purpose of +deceiving the enemy all names in this article are entirely +fictitious) made our village. It was drizzling at the time, and the +Field Officer in charge was getting most of it in the neck. He +howled for his batman, and told the varlet that if there wasn't a +drizzle-proof bivouac ready to enfold him by the time he had put +the ponies to bye-byes there would be no leave for ten years. The +batman scratched his head, then slid softly away into the night. By +the time the ponies were tilting the last drops out of their +nosebags the faithful servant had scratched together a few sheets +of corrugated, and piled them into a rough shelter. The Major +wriggled beneath it and was presently putting up a barrage of +snores terrible to hear. At midnight a battalion of the Loamshire +Light Infantry trudged into the village. It was raining in solid +chunks, and the Colonel Commanding looked like Victoria Falls and +felt like a submarine. He gave expression to his sentiments in a +series of spluttering bellows. His batman trembled and faded into +the darkness <i>à pas de loup</i>. By the time the old +gentleman had halted his command and cursed them "good night" his +resourceful retainer had found a sheet or two of corrugated iron +somewhere and assembled them into some sort of bivouac for the +reception of his lord. His lord fell inside, kicked off his boots +and slept instantly, slept like a wintering bear.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page171" id="page171"></a>[pg +171]</span> +<p>At 2 A.M. three Canadian privates blundered against our village +and tripped over it. They had lost their way, were mud from hoofs +to horns, dead beat, soaked to the skin, chilled to the bone, fed +up to the back teeth. They were not going any further, neither were +they going to be deluged to death if there was any cover to be had +anywhere. They nosed about, and soon discovered a few sheets of +corrugated iron, bore them privily hence and weathered the night +out under some logs further down the valley. My batman trod me +underfoot at seven next morning, "Goin' to be blinkin' murder done +in this camp presently, Sir," he announced cheerfully. "Three +officers went to sleep in bivvies larst night, but somebody's +souvenired 'em since an' they're all lyin' hout in the hopen now, +Sir. Their blokes daresent wake 'em an' break the noos. All very +'asty-tempered gents, so I'm told. The Colonel is pertickler +mustard. There'll be some fresh faces on the Roll of Honour when 'e +comes to."</p> +<p>I turned out and took a look at the scene of impending tragedy. +The three unconscious officers on three camp-beds were lying out in +the middle of a sea of mud like three lone islets. Their shuddering +subordinates were taking cover at long range, whispering among +themselves and crouching in attitudes of dreadful expectancy like +men awaiting the explosion of a mine or the cracking of Doom. As +explosions of those dimensions are liable to be impartial in their +attentions I took horse and rode afield. But according to my +batman, who braved it out, the Lieutenant woke up first, exploded +noisily and detonated the Field Officer who in turn detonated the +Colonel. In the words of my batman—"They went orf one, two, +three, Sir, for orl the world like a machine gun, a +neighteen-pounder and an How-Pop-pop! Whizz-bang! Boom!—very +'eavy cas-u-alities, Sir."</p> +<p>PATLANDER.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href= +"images/boatman.png"><img width="100%" src="images/boatman.png" +alt="" /></a> +<h4><i>First unhappy Passenger.</i> "OH, I SAY, <i>CAN'T</i> WE GO +BACK NOW?" <i>Boatman.</i> "NOT YET, SIR. THE GENTLEMAN IN THE BOWS +INSISTS ON 'AVING 'IS SIXPENNORTH."</h4> +</div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/sergeant.png"><img width="100%" src="images/sergeant.png" +alt="" /></a> +<h4><i>Sergeant (in charge of the raw material).</i> "NOW, NUMBER +TWO, WE'LL HAVE THAT MOVEMENT ONCE AGAIN. DON'T FORGET THIS +TIME—NECK LIKE A SWAN, FEET LIKE A FAIRY."</h4> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote>"A man who was looking at some sheep under the wire saw +the flash pass close to him with simultaneous thunder, the sheep +being unharmed. Still one or two complained of their legs feeling +numb."—<i>Parochial Magazine.</i></blockquote> +<p>Who said Baalamb?</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote>"There is no saying how Kinglake's history might have +otherwise read had not a round shot put a premature end to +Korniloff's career at the Malakoff whence M'Mahon was to send his +famous message, 'J'y, j'reste.'"—<i>Manchester Evening +Chronicle.</i></blockquote> +<p>There is no saying how anybody's history will read if +time-honoured sayings may be treated like this.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote>"We are inclined to attribute the form as well as the +substance of the Note to the aloofness from the practical affairs +of the outside world which seems to exist in the +Vatican."—<i>Times.</i></blockquote> +<p>The POPE may or may not be behind the times, but as our +contemporary signed the Papal Peace Note, "BENEDICTUS XVI." it is +plain that <i>The Times</i> is ahead of the POPE.</p> +<hr /> +<p>Extract from a letter recently received by a manufacturing +firm:—</p> +<blockquote>"We are pleased to be able to inform you that we have +seen the Munitions Area delusion officer at ——, and he +has informed us that he would not hesitate to grant Protection +Certificates for these men."</blockquote> +<p>We sympathise too much with Labour to care to see it labouring +under a delusion officer.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page172" id="page172"></a>[pg +172]</span> +<h2>HEART-TO-HEART TALKS.</h2> +<h4>(<i>Herr MICHAELIS: Marshal VON HINDENBURG</i>.)</h4> +<p><i>Herr M.</i> Good morning, my dear Marshal. I am glad we have +been able to arrange a meeting, for there are certain points I wish +to settle with you.</p> +<p><i>Von H.</i> I am, as always, at your Excellency's service; +only I beg that the interview may not be prolonged beyond what is +strictly needful. Time presses, and much remains to be done +everywhere.</p> +<p><i>Herr M.</i> But I have the commands of the ALL-HIGHEST to +speak with you on some weighty matters. He himself, as you know, +has several speeches to make to-day.</p> +<p><i>Von H.</i> Oh, those speeches! How well I know them. I could +almost make them myself if I wanted to make speeches, which, God be +thanked, I do not need to do.</p> +<p><i>Herr M.</i> No, indeed. Your reputation rests on foundations +firmer than speeches.</p> +<p><i>Von H.</i> You yourself, Excellency, have lately discovered +how fallacious a thing is a speech, even where the speaker honestly +tries to do his best to please everybody.</p> +<p><i>Herr M.</i> You are very kind, my dear Marshal, to speak thus +of my humble effort. The result of it has certainly disappointed +me.</p> +<p><i>Von H.</i> What was it that LEDEBOUR said of it? Did he not +describe it as "a political hocus-pocus"? Such men ought to be at +once taken out and shot. But we Prussians have always been too +gentle in our methods.</p> +<p><i>Herr M.</i> We have. It is perhaps our only fault; but this +time we must see that we correct it. In any case, to be so +misunderstood is most painful, especially when one has employed all +one's tact.</p> +<p><i>Von H.</i> Ah, tact. That is what you are celebrated for, is +it not?</p> +<p><i>Herr M.</i> HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY has more than once been +graciously pleased to compliment me upon it. And he, if anyone, is +a judge of tact, is he not?</p> +<p><i>Von H.</i> I have not myself any knowledge of it, so I cannot +say for certain. Does it perhaps mean what you do when you entirely +forget in one speech what you have said or omitted to say in a +previous speech?</p> +<p><i>Herr M.</i> (<i>aside</i>). The old fellow is not, after all, +so thick-skulled as I thought him. (<i>Aloud</i>) I will not ask +you to discuss this subject any more, but will proceed to lay +before you the commands of HIS MAJESTY.</p> +<p><i>Von H.</i> I shall be glad to hear them.</p> +<p><i>Herr M.</i> Well, then, to cut the matter as short as +possible, HIS MAJESTY insists that there shall be a victory on the +Western Front.</p> +<p><i>Von H.</i> A victory?</p> +<p><i>Herr M.</i> Yes, a victory. A real one, mind, not a made-up +affair like the capture of Langemarck, which, though it was +certainly captured, was not captured by us, but by the accursed +English. May Heaven destroy them!</p> +<p><i>Von H.</i> But it was by HIS MAJESTY'S orders that we +announced the capture of Langemarck.</p> +<p><i>Herr M.</i> I know; but he is graciously pleased to forget +that, and to desire a genuine victory now.</p> +<p><i>Von H.</i> Tell him I cannot promise. We have done our best +at Verdun, at Lens and at Ypres, but we have had to retreat +everywhere. Our turn may come another time, but, as I say, I cannot +promise.</p> +<p><i>Herr M.</i> Please go on doing your best. It is so annoying +and temper-spoiling for HIS MAJESTY to make so many speeches of a +fiery kind, and never to have a victory—at least not a real +one for which Berlin can hang out flags. Besides, if we don't get a +victory how shall we ever get a good German peace? And peace we +<i>must</i> have, and that very soon.</p> +<p><i>Von H.</i> Don't talk to me of peace. War is my business, not +peace; and if I am to carry on war there must be no interference. +If the ALL-HIGHEST does not like that, let him take the chief +command himself.</p> +<p><i>Herr M.</i> God forbid!</p> +<hr /> +<h3>LINES TO A HUN AIRMAN,</h3> +<h4>WHO AROUSED THE DETACHMENT ON A CHILLY MORNING, AT 2.30 +A.M.</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, come again, but at another time;</p> +<p class="i2">Choose some more fitting moment to appear,</p> +<p>For even in fair Gallia's sunny clime</p> +<p class="i2">The dawns are chilly at this time of year.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I did not go to bed till one last night,</p> +<p class="i2">I was on guard, and, pacing up and down,</p> +<p>Gazed often on the sky where every light</p> +<p class="i2">Flamed like a gem in Night's imperial crown;</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And when the clamant rattle's hideous sound</p> +<p class="i2">Roused me from sleep, in a far distant land</p> +<p>My spirit moved and trod familiar ground,</p> +<p class="i2">Where a Young Hopeful sat at my right hand.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There was a spotless cloth upon the board,</p> +<p class="i2">Thin bread-and-butter was upon me pressed,</p> +<p>And China tea in a frail cup was poured—</p> +<p class="i2">Then I rushed forth inadequately dressed.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Lo! the poor Sergeant in a shrunken shirt,</p> +<p class="i2">His manly limbs exposed to morning's dew,</p> +<p>His massive feet all paddling in the dirt—</p> +<p class="i2">Such sights should move the heart of even you.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The worthy Corporal, sage in looks and speeches,</p> +<p class="i2">Holds up his trousers with a trembling hand;</p> +<p>Lucky for him he slumbered in his breeches—</p> +<p class="i2">The most clothed man of all our shivering band.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The wretched gunners cluster on the gun,</p> +<p class="i2">Clasping the clammy breech and slippery shells;</p> +<p>If 'tis a joke they do not see the fun</p> +<p class="i2">And damn you to the worst of DANTE'S hells.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And Sub-Lieutenant Blank, that martial man,</p> +<p class="i2">Shows his pyjamas to a startled world,</p> +<p>And shivers in the foremost of our van</p> +<p class="i2">The while our H.E. shells are upwards hurled.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>You vanish, not ten centimes worth the worse</p> +<p class="i2">For all our noise, so far as we can tell;</p> +<p>The blest "Stand easy" comes; with many a curse</p> +<p class="i2">We hurry to the tents named after Bell.<a id= +"footnotetag1" name="footnotetag1"></a><a href= +"#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In two brief hours we must arise and shine!</p> +<p class="i2">O willow-waly! Would I were at home</p> +<p>Where leisurely I breakfasted at nine</p> +<p class="i2">And warm and fed went officeward to roam!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So come again, but at another time,</p> +<p class="i2">Say after breakfast or some hour like that,</p> +<p>Or I will strafe you with a viler rhyme—</p> +<p class="i2">I will, by Jove! or eat my shell-proof hat.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote>"The Rev. T.F. —— officiated in the church +yesterday for the first time since his return from a four months' +spell of work in connection with the Y.M.C.A. Huns in +France."—<i>Provincial Paper</i>.</blockquote> +<p>We congratulate him upon his discovery of this hitherto unknown +tribe.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" id="page173"></a>[pg +173]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/maid.png"><img width="100%" src="images/maid.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>GLIMPSES OF THE FUTURE.</h3> +<h4><i>Maid.</i> "MR. JONES, SIR—HIM WOT KILLED SEVENTEEN +GERMANS IN ONE TRENCH WITH HIS OWN 'ANDS—'AS CALLED FOR THE +GAS ACCOUNT, SIR."</h4> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE LITTLE MATCH-GIRL.</h3> +<h4><i>(With apologies to the shade of HANS ANDERSEN.)</i></h4> +<p>It was late on a bitterly cold showery evening of Autumn. A poor +little girl was wandering in the cold wet streets. She wore a hat +on her head and on her feet she wore boots. ANDERSEN sent her out +without a hat and in boots five sizes too large for her. But as a +member of the Children's Welfare League I do not consider that +right. She carried a quantity of matches (ten boxes to be exact) in +her old apron. Nobody had bought any of her matches during the +whole long day. And since the Summer-Time Act was still in force it +was even longer than it would have been in ANDERSEN's time.</p> +<p>The streets through which she passed were deserted. No sounds, +not even the reassuring shrieks of taxi-whistles, were to be heard, +for it costs you forty shillings now (or is it five pounds?) to +engage a taxi by whistle, and people simply can't afford it. +Clearly she would do no business in the byways, so she struck into +a main thoroughfare. At once she was besieged by buyers. They +guessed she was the little match-girl because she struck a match +from time to time just to show that they worked. Also, she liked to +see the blaze. She would not have selected this branch of war-work +had she not been naturally fond of matches.</p> +<p>They crowded round her, asking eagerly, "How much a box?" Now +her mother had told her to sell them at a shilling a box. But the +little girl had heard much talk of war-profits, and since nobody +had given her any she thought she might as well earn some. So she +asked five shillings a box. And since these were the last matches +seen in England it was not long before she had sold all the ten +boxes (including the ones containing the burnt ends of the matches +she had struck to attract custom).</p> +<p>The little girl then went to the nearest post-office and +purchased two pounds' worth of War Loan. The ten shillings which +remained she took home to her mother, and since the good woman did +not understand the principles of profiteering she was well +pleased.</p> +<p>But alas for the little girl! one of her customers, doubting the +honesty of her intentions, had informed the policeman. She was +subsequently taken into custody, and the magistrate is now faced +with the problem as to whether she is a good little girl in that +she put money into War Loan, or a bad little girl in that she +followed the example of the profiteers.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>Our Helpful Press.</h3> +From a recipe for jam:— +<blockquote>"Add the fruit and boil 40 minutes. Glucose and sugar +in equal parts can be used if sugar is +unobtainable."—<i>Daily Sketch</i>.</blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote>"To lease or rent a fine family residence, healthy +locality, one mile from Mandeville fully furnished with good +accommodation for a large family standing on ten acres of good +grazing land with many fruit trees has two large tanks, recently +occupied by judge Reece."—<i>Daily Gleaner +(Jamaica)</i>.</blockquote> +<p>Anything for coolness.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Extract from a speech by Mr. BROMLEY on the eight-hours' +day:—</p> +<blockquote>"They had endeavoured after long weary waiting to bring +to fruition in due time what had been the first plank in their +programme for thirteen years."—<i>Morning +Paper</i>.</blockquote> +<p>But the plank, as might be expected, has, as fruit-growers say, +"run to wood."</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" id="page174"></a>[pg +174]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/colonel.png"><img width="100%" src="images/colonel.png" +alt="" /></a> +<h4><i>Colonel (asked to review V.A.D. Corps, and not wishing to +spring an order on them).</i> "NOW, I'M GOING TO ASK YOU LADIES TO +FORM FOURS."</h4> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE PASSING OF THE COD'S HEAD.</h3> +<h4>(<i>A Romance of Chiswick Mall.</i>)</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>It was because the dustman did not come;</p> +<p class="i2">It was because our cat was overfed,</p> +<p>And, gorged with some superior pabulum,</p> +<p class="i2">Declined to touch the cod's disgusting head;</p> +<p>It was because the weather was too warm</p> +<p class="i2">To hide the horror in the refuse-bin,</p> +<p>And too intense the perfume of its form,</p> +<p class="i2">My wife commanded me to do the sin,</p> +<p>To take and cast it in the twinkling Thames—</p> +<p>A practice which the neighbourhood condemns.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So on the midnight, with a strong cigar</p> +<p class="i2">And scented handkerchief, I tiptoed near,</p> +<p>But felt the exotic fragrance from afar;</p> +<p class="i2">I thought of ARTHUR and Sir BEDIVERE:</p> +<p>And it seemed best to leave it on the plate,</p> +<p class="i2">So strode I back and told my curious spouse</p> +<p>"I heard the high tide lap along the Eyot,</p> +<p class="i2">And the wild water at the barge's bows."</p> +<p>She said, "O treacherous! O heart of clay!</p> +<p>Go back and throw the smelly thing away."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thereat I seized it, and with guilty shoon</p> +<p class="i2">Stole out indignant to the water's marge;</p> +<p>Its eyes like emeralds caught the affronted moon;</p> +<p class="i2">The stars conspired to make the thing look large;</p> +<p>Surely all Chiswick would perceive my shame!</p> +<p class="i2">I clutched the indecency and whirled it round</p> +<p>And flung it from me like a torch in flame,</p> +<p class="i2">And a great wailing swept across the sound,</p> +<p>As though the deep were calling back its kith.</p> +<p>I said, "It will go down to Hammersmith.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"It will go down beyond the Chelsea flats,</p> +<p class="i2">And hang with barges under Battersea,</p> +<p>Will press past Wapping with decaying cats,</p> +<p class="i2">And the dead dog shall bear it company;</p> +<p>Small bathing boys shall feel its clammy prod,</p> +<p class="i2">And think some jellyfish has fled the surge;</p> +<p>And so 'twill win to where the tribe of cod</p> +<p class="i2">In its own ooze intones a fitting dirge,</p> +<p>And after that some false and impious fish</p> +<p>Will likely have it for a breakfast dish."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The morning dawned. The tide had stripped the shore;</p> +<p class="i2">And that foul shape I fancied so remote</p> +<p>Lay stark below, just opposite next-door!</p> +<p class="i2">Who would have said a cod's head could not float?</p> +<p>No more my neighbour in his garden sits;</p> +<p class="i2">My callers now regard the view with groans;</p> +<p>For tides may roll and rot the fleshly bits,</p> +<p class="i2">But what shall mortify those ageless bones?</p> +<p>How shall I bear to hear my grandsons say,</p> +<p>"Look at the fish that grand-dad threw away"?</p> +</div> +</div> +A.P.H. +<hr /> +<p>From a South African produce-merchant's letter:—</p> +<blockquote>"As so many of our clients were disappointed last year +... we are taking time by the fetlock and offering you this +excellent quality seed now."</blockquote> +<p>To be sure of stopping Father Time you must collar low.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" id="page175"></a>[pg +175]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/liberators.png"><img width="100%" src= +"images/liberators.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>LIBERATORS.</h3> +<h4>VENIZELOS to KERENSKY. "DO NOT DESPAIR. I TOO WENT THROUGH +SUFFERING BEFORE ACHIEVING UNITY."</h4> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" id="page176"></a>[pg +176]</span> +<h2>WAR-TIME WALKS.</h2> +<blockquote class="note"><i>(With apologies to a contemporary for +cutting the ground from under its feet, and to our readers for +omitting certain names—in deference to the +Censor.)</i></blockquote> +<p>Owing to the War one must save money and spend as little as +possible on fares when rambling for pleasure. The following +itinerary will be found quite an inexpensive one, though offering +plenty of interest. Take the train to ——. Leave the +station by the exit on the south side, and turn to the right under +the railway bridge, taking the path by the stream till you come to +a bridge which crosses it.</p> +<p>Do not cross the stream, however, but turn sharply to the right +(opposite a rather pretentious-looking house) for two hundred yards +or so, when you will come to a park. A little before entering the +park you will see, lying not far from the road on the left, a +remarkable old monastery church, much restored. This contains some +fine old painted glass, some tombs and monumental inscriptions +which are worth a visit if time will allow.</p> +<p>There is a right of way through the park up to the house, which +belongs to the Earl of C——, but is not of great +architectural interest. Bear to the right in front of the house, +along a path which skirts the wall of the private grounds. At the +end of the wall a gateway leads into the high road, and a walk of +under two miles will bring you to the, at one time, pretty village +of K——, which has, however, grown rapidly into a +thriving town. Before reaching the parish church there is a +hostelry on the right-hand side of the road where an excellent tea +may be obtained (so far as the food regulations will allow).</p> +<p>On leaving the inn, turn through a gateway at the side of it, +which gives on to a straight and rather uninteresting road, which +has been considerably built upon and is more or less private, +though a right of way has been preserved through it. A glimpse of a +large mansion, chiefly of the 17th century, and now in the +possession of the W——s, may be obtained through the +trees on the right of the road.</p> +<p>When you come to the main road (at the far end of this +semi-private road) turn to the right, and just where the gibbet +used to stand, so it is said, in the good old days, there is a +sharp left-angled turn which leads to the village of +E——. Keep straight on, however, for a mile or two +(notice the fine old timbered houses on the right of the footpath +opposite the old boundary-post), and then turn to the right by the +church, rebuilt in the 17th century on the site of an older and +finer one, whose spire was at one time a noted landmark.</p> +<p>A walk through the churchyard to the church porch brings you to +the brow of a hill. Descend this to the cross-roads at the bottom, +but, instead of turning to either hand, keep to the narrow road in +front till you come to a gateway on the left. This leads to a house +which formerly belonged to the Knights Templars, but which passed +into the hands of the L——s and is still in their +possession. There is an interesting chapel in the grounds, +containing the tombs of some of the former owners, whose deeds were +more warlike, though probably less numerous, than those of the +present occupants.</p> +<p>From here an easy walk up the Strand will bring you to the +starting point, Charing Cross Embankment Station, where you can +take the train again; but if you are fit and between the ages of +forty-one and fifty, you can continue the walk till you reach the +nearest Recruiting Office.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote>"Happy Home offered slight Mental Youth or +otherwise."—<i>Times</i>.</blockquote> +<p>A chance for one of our slim conscientious objectors.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>LINES ON RE-READING "BLEAK HOUSE."</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There was a time when, posing as a purist,</p> +<p class="i2">I thought it fine to criticise and crab</p> +<p>CHARLES DICKENS as a crude caricaturist,</p> +<p class="i2">Who laid his colours on too thick and slab,</p> +<p>Who was a sort of sentimental tourist</p> +<p class="i2">And made life lurid when it should be drab;</p> +<p>In short I branded as a brilliant dauber</p> +<p>The man who gave us <i>Pecksniff</i> and <i>Micawber</i>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>True, there are blots—like spots upon the sun—</p> +<p class="i2">And genius, lavish of imagination,</p> +<p>In sheer profusion always has outrun</p> +<p class="i2">The bounds of strict artistic concentration;</p> +<p>But when detraction's worst is said and done,</p> +<p class="i2">How much remains for fervent admiration,</p> +<p>How much that never palls or wounds or sickens</p> +<p>(Unlike some moderns) in great generous DICKENS!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And in <i>Bleak House</i>, the culminating story</p> +<p class="i2">That marks the zenith of his swift career,</p> +<p>All the great qualities that won him glory,</p> +<p class="i2">As writer and reformer too, appear:</p> +<p>Righteous resentment of abuses hoary,</p> +<p class="i2">Of pomp and cant, self-centred, insincere;</p> +<p>And burning sympathy that glows unchecked</p> +<p>For those who sit in darkness and neglect.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Who, if his heart be not of steel or stone,</p> +<p class="i2">Can read unmoved of <i>Charley</i> or of +<i>Jo</i>;</p> +<p>Of dear <i>Miss Flite</i>, who, though her wits be flown,</p> +<p class="i2">Has kept a soul as pure as driven snow;</p> +<p>Of the fierce "man from Shropshire" overthrown</p> +<p class="i2">By Law's delays; of <i>Caddy's</i> inky woe;</p> +<p>Or of the alternating fits and fluster</p> +<p>That harass the unhappy slavey, <i>Guster</i>?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And there are scores of characters so vivid</p> +<p class="i2">They make us friends or enemies for life:</p> +<p><i>Hortense</i>, half-tamed she-wolf, with envy livid;</p> +<p class="i2">The patient <i>Snagsby</i> and his shrewish wife;</p> +<p>The amorous <i>Guppy</i>, who poor <i>Esther</i> chivvied;</p> +<p class="i2">Tempestuous <i>Boythorn</i>, revelling in strife;</p> +<p><i>Skimpole</i>, the honey-tongued artistic cadger;</p> +<p>And that tremendous woman, <i>Mrs. Badger</i>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>No wonder then that, when we seek awhile</p> +<p class="i2">Relief and respite from War's strident chorus,</p> +<p>Few books more swiftly charm us to a smile,</p> +<p class="i2">Few books more truly hearten and restore us</p> +<p>Than his, whose art was potent to beguile</p> +<p class="i2">Thousands of weary souls who came before +us—</p> +<p>No wonder, when the Huns, who ban our fiction,</p> +<p>Were fain to free him from their malediction.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<h3>"WHAT PEOPLE SAY.</h3> +<p>"One of the collectors for the —— Hospital Sunday +fund seems to have got more than either he or the committee +desired.</p> +<p>"On approaching a house he was received by a dog which persisted +in leaving its compliments on one of his legs.</p> +<p>"Happily the injury, though treated by a chemist, was not +serious."—<i>Provincial Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>People ought not to say these things about chemists.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<h3>"ESCAPED GERMAN FLYING MEN.</h3> +"One of the men is Lieut. Josef Flink. He has a gunshot wound in the +palm of the left hand. The second is Orbum Alexander von Schutz, +with side-whispers. Both speak very little +English."—<i>Southern Echo</i>.</blockquote> +<p>But VON SCHUTZ's sotto-voce rendering of the "Hymn of Hate" is +immense.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page177" id="page177"></a>[pg +177]</span> +<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2> +<h3>"THE INVISIBLE FOE."</h3> +<p>MR. H.B. IRVING has elected to play villain in a new mystery +play by Mr. WALTER HACKETT. Essential elements of the business as +follows: Obstinate old millstone of a shipbuilder, <i>Bransby</i>, +who simply will not give up shipbuilding for aeroplane making (and +no wonder in these days!); nephew <i>Stephen</i>, with an +unwholesome hankering after power and a complete inability to see +the obvious; nephew <i>Hugh</i>, lieutenant lately gazetted, with +much more wholesome and intelligent hankering after <i>Helen +Bransby</i>; Clerk, mouldy, faithful, one who discovers deficit in +the West African ledger to the extent of ten thousand pounds.</p> +<p>The false entries are in the hand of <i>Hugh</i>, but +<i>Stephen's</i> sinister eye and shocking suit of solemn black +promptly give him away to the audience, while with a gorgeous +fatuity he gives himself away to his uncle by writing out his +brother's resignation of the King's Commission (in itself an odd +thing to do) in the very hand he had so adroitly practised in order +to manipulate the ledger. Whereupon, at <i>Bransby's</i> dictation, +<i>Stephen</i> writes a full confession, leaving the house in an +acutely disgruntled frame of mind. The old man puts the confession +quite naturally (the firm is like that) between the leaves of his +<i>David Copperfield</i>, and dies of heart failure.</p> +<p>So <i>Stephen</i> is again up on <i>Hugh</i> at the turn. Indeed +in the six months that have elapsed between Acts I. and II. many +things have happened, and neglected to happen. <i>Stephen</i> has +become by common report a great man, pillar of the house of +Bransby, which now makes aeroplanes like anything. He has been too +busy getting power even to look into his uncle's papers (though +executor), or to have the West African ledger taken back to the +office, or, queerest of all, to discover and destroy that damning +confession. However, having got his power, he now proceeds to +consolidate it by trying to find the missing document.</p> +<p>On the same day <i>Helen</i> arrives unexpectedly, urged thereto +by a vague impression inspired by her dead father that +<i>Hugh's</i> innocence will be established by something found in +the fateful room; also <i>Hugh</i>, who had enlisted and now comes +back from France a sergeant, with the same idea in his head and +from the same source. As we had all seen the paper's hiding-place I +found it a little difficult to be impressed by the elaborate +efforts, unconscionably long drawn out, of the departed spirit to +disclose the matter to <i>Helen</i> and <i>Hugh</i>; while the +masterly inactivity of <i>Stephen</i>, who was trying to find his +document by pure reason (mere looking for it would not occur to his +Napoleonic brain), confirmed the opinion I had earlier formed of +that solemn ass. However, his invisible foe does contrive to get +his message through to the lovers and smash up <i>Stephen</i> and +his bubble of power.</p> +<p>I can't help being surprised that Mr. H.B. IRVING should have +been satisfied with so impossible a character as <i>Stephen +Pryde</i>, though I need not add that he made most effective play +with the terror of an evil conscience haunted by the vengeful dead, +throwing away his consonants rather recklessly in the process and +receiving the plaudits of an enthusiastic audience.</p> +<p>I grant Mr. HACKETT freely his effects of eeriness and his sound +judgment in manipulating his ghost without materialising him; and +congratulate him particularly on the part of the vague American +lady, most capably performed by Miss MARION LORNE.</p> +<p>Miss FAY COMPTON made a pretty lover and plausible clairvoyante. +Mr. SYDNEY VALENTINE'S portrait was (yes!) masterly; and Mr. TOM +REYNOLDS is excellent as the confidential clerk. Mr. HOLMAN CLARK +struck me (without surprise) as slightly bored with his part of a +Doctor who lost his patient in the first Act and remained as a +convenient peg for the plot. His adroit method ensures smooth +playing and pulls a cast together.—T.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:65%;"><a href= +"images/servant.png"><img width="100%" src="images/servant.png" +alt="" /></a> +<h4><i>Servant (on hearing air-raid warning).</i> "I SHALL STAND +HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE 'ALL, MUM, SO THAT IF A BOMB COMES IN AT +THE FRONT-DOOR WE CAN GO OUT AT THE BACK."</h4> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" id="page178"></a>[pg +178]</span> +<h2>PLAYING THE GAME.</h2> +<p>After we had finally arranged the cricket +match—Convalescents <i>versus</i> the Village—for the +benefit of the Serbian Relief Fund, we remembered that early in the +year the cricket-field had been selected for the site of the +village potato-patch, and my favourite end of the pitch—the +one without the cross-furrow—was now in full blossom.</p> +<p>As the cricket-field is the only level piece of ground in the +district, the cricket committee began to lose its grip upon the +situation, and were only saved from ignominious failure by the +enterprise of the British Army, in this case represented by +Sergeant-Major Kippy, D.C.M., who was recovering in the best of +spirits from his third blighty one.</p> +<p>"'Ow about the Colonel's back gardin?" he suggested. "There's a +lovely bit o' turf there."</p> +<p>We remembered the perfect and spacious lawn, scarcely less level +than a billiard-table, and, even with the Colonel busy on the East +Coast, the committee were unanimously adverse to the suggestion. +But Kippy, born within hail of a Kentish cricket-field, was not to +be denied, and, after all, one cannot haggle about a mere garden +with someone who was with the first battalions over the Messines +Ridge.</p> +<p>Thus the affair was taken out of our hands, and when the day +arrived we pitched the stumps where Kippy, giving due consideration +to the Colonel's foliage, thought the light was most +advantageous.</p> +<p>The Village won the toss, and old Tom Pratt took guard and +proceeded to dig himself in by making what he termed his +"block-hole." I visualised the choleric blue eye of the Colonel and +shuddered.</p> +<p>For a time matters proceeded uneventfully. Then, at the fall of +the fourth wicket, the game suddenly developed, Jim Butcher, +batting at the pergola end, giving us an exhibition of his famous +scoop shot, which landed full pitch through the drawing-room +window. It was a catastrophe of such dimensions that even the +boldest spirit quailed before it, and the Colonel's butler, batting +at the other end, immediately dissociated himself from the +proceedings and bolted from the field.</p> +<p>Kippy, as befitted a warrior of parts, was the first to +recover.</p> +<p>"'Ere," he exclaimed, "we carn't 'ave this; wot do you think the +Colonel will say?"</p> +<p>I do not suppose there was anyone who had not thought of it.</p> +<p>"We got to 'ave fresh rules," Kippy continued. "Anyone breaking +a winder 'as to retire, mend the winder, and 'is side loses ten +runs." Only a super mind could in the time have framed a punishment +so convincingly deterrent.</p> +<p>The scoop shot from the pergola end was ruled out in a sentence, +and we were treated to a masterly and Jessopian demonstration of +how to get an off ball past square-leg.</p> +<p>But no completely efficient form of organisation can be +encompassed in an hour, nor can man legislate for the unknown +factor.</p> +<p>In this case Kippy was not aware that, on the far side of the +shrubbery, against an ancient sun-bathed wall, stood the greenhouse +which sheltered the Colonel's prize grapes. And so Jim Butcher, +playing this time from the rockery end, brought off the double +event and caused another new clause to be added to the local rules. +With thirty-seven to his credit and still undefeated he was making +history in the village, though it must be admitted that no one was +ever less anxious to retain the post of honour, and when the +gardener laid out the damaged fruit nothing short of Kippy's appeal +would have persuaded him to continue his innings.</p> +<p>"Wot, retire jest when you're gettin' popler an' can't do no +more 'arm an' I've sent off the 'ole brigade of scouts ter spread +the noos, 'Jessop thirty, not out, an' 'arf the Colonel's winders +napooed.' Wy, the 'ole blinkin' county will be 'ere as soon as they +know wot's goin' on." Kippy leant forward confidentially, "An' them +Serbian boxes 'as got ter be filled some'ow." It was an +irresistible argument, and Jim Butcher continued his innings under +slightly restricted conditions.</p> +<p>At 6.50, with ten minutes to play, the Convalescents, who had +shown great form, required only twelve runs to win the match. Kippy +and Gunner Toady shared the batting. A pretty glance to leg for two +by the Gunner was all that could be taken out of the penultimate +over, and Kippy at the pergola end faced Mark Styles, the postman, +to take the first ball of the last over. Two singles were run, and +then Kippy placed one nicely into the herbaceous border for four. +The next one nearly got him, and then, with the seven o'clock +delivery, as it were, the postman tossed up a half-volley on the +leg side. Forgotten were the rules, the windows and all else. Kippy +jumped out and, with every muscle he could bring into action, hit +it straight through the plate-glass panel of the billiard-room +door. For five petrified seconds we gazed at the wreckage, and then +the door opened and the Colonel walked briskly into the garden. +Anything else—a bomb or an earthquake—might merely have +created curiosity, but this was different.</p> +<p>Quite unostentatiously I vacated my position at fine leg and +merged myself with the slips, who, together with point and cover, +were bearing a course towards the labyrinthine ways of the +kitchen-garden. After vainly searching for an imaginary ball and +finding that we were not actually attacked from the rear, we +ventured at length to return.</p> +<p>Kippy and the Colonel were conversing on the centre of the +well-worn pitch. The Colonel was speaking.</p> +<p>"... Lose ten runs and the match! I never heard such infernal +nonsense. That shot was worth six runs on any ground. I shall +insist on revising the rules."</p> +<p>At the same time I noticed that Kippy was holding a +red-and-white box, and the Colonel was with difficulty thrusting +something through the inadequate slit.</p> +<p>It looked like a piece of paper.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/cashier.png"><img width="100%" src="images/cashier.png" +alt="" /></a> +<h4><i>Bank Cashier (gazing at golden orb of day).</i> "IT'S A REAL +HOLIDAY TO WATCH THESE SUNSETS—AFTER ALL THE PAPER +MONEY."</h4> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>The Huns at Home.</h3> +<blockquote>"In the final figure, all the dancers make bows and +curtseys to the Emperor and Empress, who are either standing or +sitting at this time on the throne."—<i>Mr. GERARD'S +description of a Court Ball.</i></blockquote> +<p>Two chiefs with but a single chair to stand on. And yet they +call Germany undemocratic!</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote>"M. Painlevé's resemblance to M. Briand (the +former Premier) is string."—<i>Liverpool Daily +Post</i>.</blockquote> +<p>Whereas the tie between British Ministers is generally tape +(red).</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" id="page179"></a>[pg +179]</span> +<h2>PRESERVING THEIR PROSPECTS.</h2> +<blockquote>[Exemption has been granted by the Warwick Appeal +Tribunal to a man who applied on the ground that if he lived long +enough he would inherit £200,000.]</blockquote> +<i>Extract from "The Mid-County Advertiser," July 30th.</i> +<p>Martin Slim, 25, single, categoried A 1, applied for exemption +to the Bumpshire Tribunal on the ground that if he were required to +do military service he would lose a substantial fortune. Applicant +explained that he was engaged in an enterprise which involved the +planting of 200 acres of young cork-trees. The trees would be ready +for cutting in about 1945, by which time it was estimated the +demand for cork legs would enable him to realise a handsome profit +on the sale of the bark. Total exemption was granted, the chairman +of the Tribunal congratulating the young man on his patriotic +foresight.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<i>"The Snobington Mercury," August 7th.</i> +<p>Among the recent applicants to the Snobington Appeal Tribunal +was the Hon. Geoffrey de Knute. Solicitor for the applicant stated +that his client, who was already giving all his time to the +organisation of hat-trimming competitions for wounded soldiers and +other work of national importance, desired exemption for the reason +that he expected shortly to succeed to the Earldom of Swankshire. +There were, he explained, three brothers who stood between his +client and the title, all over military age. It was expected, +however, that the age limit would before long be substantially +raised, in which case there was every reason to believe that his +client, if exempted from military service, might outlive his +relatives. After some consultation the chairman stated that ten +years' exemption would be granted.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<i>"The Morning News," August 14th.</i> +<p>Sol. Strunski, 18, single, passed for General Service, applied +for exemption yesterday before the Birdcage Walk Tribunal. +Applicant's mother, who was observed to be wearing several large +diamond rings and a sable jacket, informed the Tribunal that +applicant was her sole support; that he had been engaged until +recently upon a contract for supplying the Army Ordnance Department +with antimacassars, but that, as the result of false charges made +against him by persons connected with the police force, the War +Office had removed his name from its list of eligible contractors, +with the result that he was now out of work. He had, however, been +offered the secretaryship of the Russian branch of the +No-Conscription Fellowship. It was a great chance for him, she +explained, but he would lose it if he were called up. The Tribunal +expressed its sympathy with Mrs. Strunski, and stated that the War, +important as it might be, could not be allowed to mar the future of +such an able youth. Total exemption.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<i>"The Purrsweet Record," August 21st.</i> +<p>At the Purrsweet Tribunal, Messrs. Prongingham and Co., +proprietors of the popular multiple grocery establishments, applied +for exemption for their local branch manager, William Dudd (28, B +1). The chairman of the Tribunal, Sir George Prongingham, stated +that he had had some doubts as to whether his position as president +of Prongingham's, Ltd., did not require him to leave the +disposition of this case to his colleagues. They had persuaded him +to a contrary view, and certainly his patriotism could not be +questioned. His son Reginald had been serving gallantly in the Army +Pay Department since the outbreak of war, and he himself had been +consulted by the Government on several occasions. In deciding the +case of the applicant, William Dudd, he felt no bias of any kind, +and the Tribunal's decision to grant total exemption was made +wholly out of regard to the young man's prospects, and not in the +interest of Prongingham's, Ltd. (Cheers.) ALGOL.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:67%;"><a href= +"images/officer.png"><img width="100%" src="images/officer.png" +alt="" /></a> +<h4><i>Farmer.</i> "YOU'LL NOT BE FEELING GIDDY, SURR?"</h4> +<h4><i>R.F.C. Officer (on leave)</i>. "NOT TILL WE REACH TEN +THOUSAND FEET."</h4> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" id="page180"></a>[pg +180]</span> +<h2>THE CONVERT.</h2> +<p>There were three of us—a soldier, a <i>flâneur</i> +and myself, who am neither but would like to be either. We were +talking about the strange appearance—a phenomenon of the +day—of French wine in German bottles, and this led to the +re-expression of my life-long surprise that bottles should exist in +such numbers as they do—bottles everywhere, all over the +world, with wine and beer in them, and no one under any obligation +to save and return them.</p> +<p>"Well," said the soldier (who may or may not have known that I +was one of those writing fellows), "that has never struck me as +odd. Of course there are lots of bottles. Bottles are necessary. +But what beats me is the number of books. New books and old books, +books in shops and books on stalls, and books in houses; and on top +of all that—libraries. That's rum, if you like. I most +cordially hope," he added, "that there are more bottles than books +in the world."</p> +<p>"I don't care how many there are of either," said the +<i>flâneur</i>; "but I know this—another book's badly +wanted."</p> +<p>"Oh, come off it," said the enemy of authorship. "How can +another book be needed? Have you ever seen the British Museum +Reading Room? It's simply awful. It's a kind of disease. I was +taken there once by an aunt when I was a boy, and it has haunted me +ever since. Books by the million all round the room, and the desks +crowded with people writing new ones. Men <i>and</i> women. Mixed +writing, you know. Terrible!"</p> +<p>"All that may be true," said the <i>flâneur</i>, "but the +fact remains that another book is still needed."</p> +<p>"Impossible," said the soldier, "unless it's a cheque-book. +There I'm with you."</p> +<p>"No, a book—a real book. Small, I admit, but real. And I +believe I can make you agree with me. I'm full of it, because I +discovered the need of it only this last week-end."</p> +<p>"Well, what is it to be called?" the sceptic asked.</p> +<p>"I think a good title would be, <i>Have I Put Everything +in?</i>"</p> +<p>"Sounds like a manual of bayonet exercise," said the soldier, +and he made imaginary lunges at imaginary Huns.</p> +<p>"Very well then, to prevent ambiguity call it <i>Have I Left +Anything Out?</i> The sub-title would be 'A Guide to Packing,' or +'The Week-Ender's Friend.'"</p> +<p>"Ah!" said the other, beginning to be interested.</p> +<p>"With such a book," the <i>flâneur</i> continued, "you +could never, as I did on Saturday, arrive at a house without any +pyjamas, because you would find pyjamas in the list, and directly +you came to them you would shove them in. That would be the special +merit of the book—that you would get, out of wardrobes and +drawers and off the dressing-table, the things it mentioned as you +read them and shove them in."</p> +<p>"You would hold the book in the left hand," said the soldier, +with almost as much excitement as though he were the author, "and +pack with the right. That's the way."</p> +<p>"Yes, that's the way. It would be only a little book—like +a vest-pocket diary—but it would be priceless. It would be +divided into sections covering the different kinds of visit to be +paid—week-end, week, fortnight, and so on. Then the kind of +place—seaside, river, shooting, hunting, and so on. Foreign +travel might come in as well."</p> +<p>"Yes," said the soldier, "lists of things for Egypt, India, +Nairobi."</p> +<p>"That's it," said the <i>flâneur.</i> "And there would be +some unexpected things too. I guess you could help me there with +all your wide experience."</p> +<p>"A corkscrew, of course," said the soldier.</p> +<p>"I said unexpected things," said the <i>flâneur</i> +reprovingly, "such as—well, such as a screw-driver for +eye-glasses—most useful. And a carriage key. And—"</p> +<p>His pause was my opportunity. "I'll tell you another thing," I +said, "something for which I'd have given a sovereign in that gale +last week when I was at the seaside—window-wedges. Never +again shall I travel without window-wedges."</p> +<p>"By Jove!" said the soldier, "that's an idea. Put down +window-wedges at once. It's a great book this," he went on. "And +needed—I should jolly well say so. You ought to compile it at +once—before any of us has time to go away again. Personally I +don't know how I've lived without it. Why, just talking about it +makes me feel quite a literary character."</p> +<p>"Let me see," I said sweetly, "what do you call this monumental +work? Oh yes, I remember—<i>Are There Any Important Omissions +from my Saturday-to-Monday Equipment?</i>"</p> +<p>"Rubbish!" said the soldier. "The title is—<i>Have I Put +Everything in?</i>"</p> +<hr /> +<h3>BY THE CANAL IN FLANDERS.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>By the canal in Flanders I watched a barge's prow</p> +<p>Creep slowly past the poplar-trees; and there I made a vow</p> +<p>That when these wars are over and I am home at last</p> +<p>However much I travel I shall not travel fast.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Horses and cars and yachts and planes: I've no more use for +such;</p> +<p>For in three years of war's alarms I've hurried far too +much;</p> +<p>And now I dream of something sure, silent and slow and +large;</p> +<p>So when the War is over—why, I mean to buy a barge.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A gilded barge I'll surely have, the same as Egypt's Queen,</p> +<p>And it will be the finest barge that ever you have seen;</p> +<p>With polished mast of stout pitch pine, tipped with a ball of +gold,</p> +<p>And two green trees in two white tubs placed just abaft the +hold.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So when past Pangbourne's verdant meads, by Clieveden's mossy +stems,</p> +<p>You see a barge all white-and-gold come gliding down the +Thames,</p> +<p>With tow-rope spun from coloured silks and snow-white horses +three,</p> +<p>Which stop beside your river house—you'll know the +bargee's me.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I'll moor my craft beside your lawn; so up and make good +cheer!</p> +<p>Pluck me your greenest salads! Draw me your coolest beer!</p> +<p>For I intend to lunch with you and talk an hour or more</p> +<p>Of how we used to hustle in the good old days of war.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<p>The Vicar of a country parish was letting his house to a +<i>locum tenens</i>, and sent him a telegram, "Servants will be +left if desired." Promptly came back the reply, "Am bringing my own +sermons." And now each is wondering what sort of man the other +is.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote>"Young Man to help weigh and clean widows at chemist's +shop."—<i>Sheffield Daily Telegraph.</i></blockquote> +<p>To any young man who should be inclined to apply we commend the +advice of <i>Mr. Weller, senior</i>, "Sammy, beware of the +vidders."</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>[pg +181]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/lady.png"><img width="100%" src="images/lady.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>AN ADAMLESS EDEN.</h3> +<h5><i>The Seated Lady</i>. "THE GREAT CHARM OF THIS PLACE IS ITS +ABSOLUTE LONELINESS. DAY AFTER DAY ONE HAS THESE LOVELY SANDS AND +SEA AND ROCKS AND SKY ALL TO ONESELF."</h5> +<h5><i>The Other</i>. "REALLY. AND HAVE YOU BEEN HERE LONG?" +<i>Seated Lady</i>. "SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THE WEEK."</h5> +<h5><i>The Other</i>. "AND ARE YOU GOING TO STAY IN THIS DELIGHTFUL +PLACE MUCH LONGER?"</h5> +<h5><i>Seated Lady</i>. "ANOTHER TEN DAYS—UNLESS MY LANDLADY +WILL LET ME OFF THE LAST WEEK."</h5> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> +<h4><i>(By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.)</i></h4> +<p>In <i>The Irish on the Somme</i> (HODDER AND STOUGHTON) Mr. +MICHAEL MACDONAGH continues the story which he began in <i>The +Irish at the Front</i>. He gives us more accounts of the heroism of +his fellow-countrymen in the titanic battles that have thrilled the +minds of men all the world over. He writes with a justifiable +enthusiasm of the deeds of these gallant Irishmen. The book stirs +the blood like the sound of a trumpet. In a war which has produced +so many glorious actions the Irish are second to none. Even those +who do not agree in every point with Mr. JOHN REDMOND will admit +ungrudgingly that he makes good the claims he puts forward in his +introduction to Mr. MACDONAGH'S book. He tells us that from Ireland +173,772 Irishmen are serving in the Army and Navy, and that in +addition at least 150,000 of the Irish race have joined the colours +in Great Britain—no mean record. Mr. MACDONAGH is as proud of +the glory of the Ulstermen as of that of Nationalist Ireland. He +dedicates his book to the <i>carum caput</i> of Major WILLIE +REDMOND.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Mr. E.B. OSBORN, who has written <i>The Maid with Wings, and +other Fantasies Grave to Gay</i> (LANE), will perhaps not +altogether thank me for saving that among the <i>Other +Fantasies</i> I throughout preferred the grave to the gay. <i>The +Maid with Wings</i> itself is a beautiful little piece of +imagination—the vision of the Maid of France comforting an +English boy during his last moments out in No Man's Land. The thing +is well and delicately done, with a reserve that may encourage the +judicious to hope for good work in the future from a pen that is (I +fancy) as yet somewhat new. On the other hand, I must confess that +the Gaiety left me (though this, of course, may be an isolated +experience) with sides unshaken. "Callisthenes at Cambridge," for +example, is but little removed from the article that, to my certain +knowledge, has padded school and 'Varsity magazines since such +began to be. Still, I liked the plea for Protection against foreign +imports in literature and art by way of helping the native +producer, though even here some condensation would, I thought, have +sharpened the point. But, after all, reviewers are dull dogs to +move to laughter (as no doubt Mr. OSBORN will now agree), so I hope +he will rest content with my genuine appreciation of his graver +passages, and will be encouraged to give us something more +ambitious and less open to the suspicion of book-making.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The <i>Letters of a Soldier: 1914-1915</i> (CONSTABLE) are +letters to a mother; letters also of an artist, and full of an +exquisite sensibility, a fine candour. I can best give you +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>[pg +182]</span> an impression of the charming personality of this young +French soldier (who survived his first great battle, to be reported +missing after the counter-attack, since when no news of him has +reached his friends), by quoting little sentences of his, and if +you don't want to know more of him after reading them then nothing +I can say will be of any use: "The true death would be to live in a +conquered country, above all for me, whose art would perish ... If +you could only see the confidence of the little forest animals, +such as the field-mice! They were as pretty as a Japanese print, +with the inside of their ears like a rosy shell ... How is it +possible to think of Schumann as a barbarian?... I am happy to have +felt myself responsive to all these blows, and my hope lies in the +thought that they will have forged my soul ... Spinoza is a most +valuable aid in the trenches ... We are in billets after the great +battle, and this time I saw it all. I did my duty; I knew that by +the feeling of my men for me. But the best are dead. We gained our +object ... I send you my whole love. Whatever comes to pass, life +has had its beauty." And then no more.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>If Mr. HAROLD LAKE'S account of the British forces in Macedonia +is supposed to supply an answer to a not unnatural query as to what +they are doing there, I am afraid one must take it that in fact +they are doing nothing in particular. An intelligent British public +believes that at least they are immobilising important enemy forces +and perhaps accomplishing several other useful things as well, but +the writer, who has actually been <i>In Salonica with Our Army</i> +(MELROSE), frankly lays aside high considerations of policy and, +seeing it all in desperately foreshortened perspective, knows only +that he and his fellows, having volunteered to fight, are being +called on instead to endure a purgatorial routine of dust and +dulness, mosquitoes, malaria and night marches, and the grilling +away of useless days in the society of flies and lizards, with +only, as a very occasional treat, the smallest glimpse of anything +resembling a Front. And all this is in a country so desolated by +centuries of war that in spite of obvious natural fertility it is a +sullen treeless desert—a desert of blight and thistles, as +profitless to our men as their periodically deferred anticipations +of a grand advance. A book that sets out to record vacuity can +hardly be crammed with thrilling literature, and I am not going to +pretend that Mr. LAKE has achieved the impossible. All the same one +found points—for instance, his desire that someone +(apparently England for choice!) should colonise Macedonia; and his +most right and appropriate plea for fairer recognition of those who +have sacrificed their health in the national service. A man, he +holds, who is to suffer all his life from malarial fever has done +his bit no less than plenty who bear the honourable insignia of the +wounded in battle and the snout of a mosquito may be as valorously +encountered as the bayonet of a Hun. And so say all of us.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>I can read Miss MARY WEBB'S studies of the peasant mind with +great pleasure, but at the same time I am doubtful whether she is +as successful in <i>Gone to Earth</i> (CONSTABLE) as she was in her +first novel, <i>The Golden Arrow</i>. My difficulty—and I +hope it will not be yours—was to believe in the power of +<i>Hazel Woodus</i> to make very dissimilar men lose their hearts +and heads. That <i>Jack Reddin</i>, a dare-devil farmer with love +for any sort of a chase in his blood, should pursue her to the +bitter end is intelligible enough, but why <i>Edward Marston</i>, a +rather anæmic minister, married her and then forgave her +escapades with <i>Reddin</i> has me bothered. I can admire Edward's +forgiving spirit, but cannot altogether pity him when his +methodical congregation said straight and disagreeable things. In +fact my total inability to see <i>Hazel</i> as <i>Edward</i> saw +her somewhat detracted from my enjoyment of her history. That being +said the rest is, thank goodness, praise. Miss WEBB is a careful +and sincere workman, who, whether you believe or disbelieve in her +characters, writes with such real compassion for suffering that she +cannot fail to enlist your sympathy. Additionally her vein is +original, and she only needs a little more experience to make a +great success of it.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Presumably the eleven stories in <i>The Loosing of the Lion's +Whelps</i> (MILLS AND BOON) are published for the first time, as we +are not given any notice to the contrary, and I can imagine that +Mr. JOHN OXENHAM'S many admirers will derive considerable pleasure +from them. Mr. OXENHAM'S weak points are that sometimes he fails to +distinguish between real pathos and sticky sentimentality, and that +when he tries his hand at telling a practical joke he does not know +when to stop. There are, however, stories in this volume which +deserve unqualified praise. The shortest, "How Half a Man Died," is +the best; indeed, it is a real gem. But "The Missing K.C.'s" has a +genuine thrill in it; and, in a very different manner, "A +By-Product" is proof enough that the author can get his effects all +the more readily when he keeps his own feelings under the strictest +control. Mr. OXENHAM'S XI. has weak points in it, but on the whole +it is a good side.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/farmer.png"><img width="100%" src="images/farmer.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h5><i>The Farmer.</i> "DON'T YOU KNOW, YOU LITTLE THIEF, I COULD +GET YOU TEN YEARS IN JAIL FUR STEALIN' MY APPLES?"</h5> +<h5><i>The Boy.</i> "EXCUSE ME, SIR, BUT YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY +MISINFORMED. I SHOULD COME UNDER THE FIRST OFFENDERS ACT."</h5> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>Another Impending Apology.</h3> +<blockquote>"John Kelly, Aughanduff, while going to Dernaseer was +attacked on the road by a bull belonging to Thomas Kelly, and +knocked down and had three ribs broken. He was attended by Dr. +——, and we think such dangerous animals should not be +allowed to wander at large."—<i>Irish Paper</i>.</blockquote> +<hr /> +<blockquote>"J.A.M. required for St. Mark's Girls' School, +Dublin."—<i>Irish Times</i>.</blockquote> +<p>A case for the FOOD CONTROLLER.</p> +<hr /> +<p>From a letter on "How we are to be Governed":—</p> +<blockquote>"Are we in future to see the party whips put on to +decide whether a 16 in. gun is to be 50 or 60 calibres? The think +is unthinkable."—<i>The Times</i>.</blockquote> +<p>We don't think.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<blockquote class="footnote"><a id="footnote1" name= +"footnote1"></a> <b>Footnote 1</b>: <a href= +"#footnotetag1">(return)</a> +<p>On second thoughts I don't believe they are named after anyone, +but "Bell" rhymes comfortably with "tell," so it may stand.</p> +</blockquote> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10614 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/10614-h/images/boatman.png b/10614-h/images/boatman.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f01a346 --- /dev/null +++ b/10614-h/images/boatman.png diff --git a/10614-h/images/cashier.png b/10614-h/images/cashier.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..42de028 --- /dev/null +++ b/10614-h/images/cashier.png diff --git a/10614-h/images/colonel.png b/10614-h/images/colonel.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6fdd6a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/10614-h/images/colonel.png diff --git a/10614-h/images/doctor.png b/10614-h/images/doctor.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd63848 --- /dev/null +++ b/10614-h/images/doctor.png diff --git a/10614-h/images/farmer.png b/10614-h/images/farmer.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..48dbc22 --- /dev/null +++ b/10614-h/images/farmer.png diff --git a/10614-h/images/lady.png b/10614-h/images/lady.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f44817a --- /dev/null +++ b/10614-h/images/lady.png diff --git a/10614-h/images/liberators.png b/10614-h/images/liberators.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d59437 --- /dev/null +++ b/10614-h/images/liberators.png diff --git a/10614-h/images/maid.png b/10614-h/images/maid.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f964a60 --- /dev/null +++ b/10614-h/images/maid.png diff --git a/10614-h/images/officer.png b/10614-h/images/officer.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d1696c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/10614-h/images/officer.png diff --git a/10614-h/images/premier.png b/10614-h/images/premier.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf408fe --- /dev/null +++ b/10614-h/images/premier.png diff --git a/10614-h/images/sergeant.png b/10614-h/images/sergeant.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d5466d3 --- /dev/null +++ b/10614-h/images/sergeant.png diff --git a/10614-h/images/servant.png b/10614-h/images/servant.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5500fda --- /dev/null +++ b/10614-h/images/servant.png |
