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diff --git a/10952-h/10952-h.htm b/10952-h/10952-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba1e555 --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/10952-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1993 @@ +<!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. 156, Jan. 15, 1919, 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, + {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.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .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;} + + .footnote {font-size: 0.9em; margin-right: 10%; margin-left: 10%;} + + .side { float:right; + font-size: 75%; + width: 25%; + padding-left:10px; + border-left: dashed thin; + margin-left: 10px; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: italic;} + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10952 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, +Jan. 15, 1919, by Various, Edited by Owen Seamen</h1> + + +</pre> +<center><b>E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, William Flis,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</b></center> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr class="full" /> +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> +<h2>Vol. 156.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>January 15, 1919.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>[pg +33]</span> +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> +<p>A memorial to SIMON DE MONTFORT has been unveiled at Evesham, +where he fell in 1265. A pathetic inquiry reaches us as to whether +SIMON is yet demobilised.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>We are informed that the project of adding a "Silence Room" to +the National Liberal Club is to be resuscitated.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Small one piece houses of concrete," says <i>The National +News</i>, "are now quite common in America." The only complaint, it +appears, is that some of them are just a trifle tight under the +arms.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>We hope that the proposed revival by a well-known theatre +manager of <i>The Sins of David</i> so shortly after the General +Election is not the work of a defeated Candidate.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Some of the discredited Radical organs," says a contemporary, +"are already toying with Bolshevism." A case of "<i>Soviet qui +peut</i>."</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The report that a number of distinguished Irish Unionists have +been ordered to choose between the LORD-LIEUTENANT's Reconstruction +Committee and the O.B.E. is causing anxiety in Dublin Club +circles.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Weymouth Council has decided to change the name of Holstein +Avenue. We deprecate these attempts to force the Peace Conference's +hand.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Mr. HENRY FORD's new paper is called <i>The Dearborn +Independent</i>. Most independent papers, it is noticed, are +that.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Why has the Government raised the price of new sharps?" asks +"FARMER" in <i>The Daily Mail</i>. They may cost more, but they +look to us like the same old sharps.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Sensation-mongering" is the public's verdict on the startling +report circulated last week that a Civil Servant had been seen +running.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The National Potato Exhibition, it is announced, will in future +be held at Birmingham. The League of Political Small Potatoes, on +the other hand, has moved its permanent headquarters to +Manchester.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>There were 21,457 fewer paupers in London last week compared +with the same period in 1915, it is stated. All we can say is, it +isn't London's fault.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A correspondent, writing to a contemporary, thinks it should be +illegal for one taxi-driver to talk to another in the streets. It +would be interesting under these circumstances to see what happened +if two rival cabs collided.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>With reference to the Upper Norwood gentleman who is reported to +have arrived home early one night last week, it is not true that he +travelled by tube. He walked.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>One thing after another. No sooner is influenza on the wane than +we read of a serious outbreak of Jazz music in London.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>We gather from the interviews appearing in the papers that Mr. +PHILIP SNOWDEN is of the opinion that his defeat was due to the +General Election.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>We are asked to deny the rumour that the KAISER has offered to +compete for <i>The Daily Mail</i> trans-Atlantic flight and has +offered to forgo the prize.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Scientists are agreed, says <i>Tit-Bits</i>, that there is +nothing to prevent people living for five hundred or even one +thousand years. We feel, however, that in the case of certain very +objectionable persons exemption might be given at the age of about +forty years.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Blwyddyn Newydd Dda i bawb Ohonynt" was the reported greeting +sent by Mr. LLOYD GEORGE to his election agent. Other delegates to +the Peace Conference are talking in the same truculent strain.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>One of the men for whom our heart goes out in sympathy is a +South Carolina farmer who has been in the habit of doctoring +himself with the help of a medical book. When only fifty-five years +of age he died of a misprint.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A prisoner charged at London Sessions with stealing was +described as "one of a most daring and clever gang of thieves." It +is said that he has asked counsel for permission to use this +excellent testimonial on his note-headings.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>An Irish farmer aged one hundred-and-four years, who took a +prominent part in the General Election, has just died. This should +be a lesson to people who meddle with politics.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"The current open secret in Society," says <i>The Star</i>, "is +the engagement of Lady DIANA MANNERS, but when it will be announced +only she herself will decide." This is extraordinary. A few weeks +ago the decision would have rested with the newspapers.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>There were 523 fewer books published last year than in the year +before. This, we understand, is explained by the fact that Mr. +CHARLES GARVICE and Mr. E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM each went to the +theatre one night in the early autumn.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/33.png"><img width="100%" src="images/33.png" alt= +"" /></a>"I WISH MY HUSBAND HAD JOINED THEM PIVOTS INSTEAD OF THE +FOOSILEERS. HE'D 'A' BEEN DEMOBILISED BY NOW."</div> +<hr /> +<h3>Regulus Up-to-Date.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>"Traveller.—Wanted a pushing young man, to work through +England and Scotland in barrel hoops."—<i>Daily +Telegraph.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"To these manifestations the President raised his hat, his +smiling face indicating the measure of his pleasure at the +leave-taking with the British public."—<i>Daily +Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>One of the things that might perhaps have been expressed +differently.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>Redistribution.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The Bolshevist plan to conciliate Labour</p> +<p>Is based on the maxim of Beggar your Neighbour,</p> +<p>With the glorious result, when they share out the loot,</p> +<p>That ev'ry one's sure of possessing <i>one</i> boot.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>[pg +34]</span> +<h2>THE RHYME OF THE "RIO GRANDE."</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>By Salthouse Dock as I did pass one day not long ago,</p> +<p>I chanced to meet a sailorman that once I used to know;</p> +<p>His eye it had a roving gleam, his step was light and gay,</p> +<p>He looked like one just in from sea to blow a nine months' +pay;</p> +<p>And as he passed athwart my hawse he hailed me long and +loud:</p> +<p>"Oh, find me now a full saloon where I may stand the crowd;</p> +<p>I'm out to rouse the town this night as any man may be</p> +<p>That's just come off a salvage job, my lad, the same as +me....</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Bringin' home the <i>Rio Grande</i>, her as used to +be</p> +<p class="i2"><i>Crack o' Moore</i>, Mackellar's Line, back in +ninety-three;</p> +<p class="i2">First of all the 'Frisco fleet, home in +ninety-eight,</p> +<p class="i2">Ninety days to Carrick Roads from the Golden +Gate;</p> +<p class="i2">Thirty shellbacks used to have all their work to +do</p> +<p class="i2">Hauling them big yards of hers, heaving of her to</p> +<p class="i2">Down off Dago Ramirez, where the big winds blow,</p> +<p class="i2">Bringin' home the <i>Rio Grande</i> twenty years +ago.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"We picked her up one morning homeward bound from Portland, +Maine,</p> +<p>In a nine-knot grunting cargo tramp, by name the <i>Crown o' +Spain</i>;</p> +<p>The day was breaking cold and dark and dirty as could be,</p> +<p>It was blowin' up for weather as we couldn't help but see.</p> +<p>Her crew was gone the Lord knows where—and Fritz had left +her too;</p> +<p>He must have took a scare and quit afore his job was +through;</p> +<p>We tried to pass a hawser, but it warn't no kind o' good,</p> +<p>So we put a salvage crew aboard to save her if we could....</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Bringin' home the <i>Rio Grande</i> and her freight +as well,</p> +<p class="i2">Half-a-score of steamboatmen cursin' her like +hell,</p> +<p class="i2">Flounderin' in the flooded waist, scramblin' for a +hold,</p> +<p class="i2">Hangin' on by teeth and toes, dippin' when she +rolled;</p> +<p class="i2">Ginger Dan the donkeyman, Joe the 'doctor's' +mate,</p> +<p class="i2">Lumpers off the water-front, greasers from the +Plate,</p> +<p class="i2">That's the sort o' crowd we had to reef and steer and +haul,</p> +<p class="i2">Bringin' home the <i>Rio Grande</i>—ship and +freight and all.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Our mate had served his time in sail, he was a bully boy,</p> +<p>It'd wake a corpse to hear him hail 'Foretopsail yard ahoy!'</p> +<p>He knew the ways o' squaresail and he knew the way to swear,</p> +<p>He'd got the habit of it here and there and everywhere;</p> +<p>He'd some samples from the Baltic and some more from +Mozambique;</p> +<p>Chinook and Chink and double-Dutch and Mexican and Greek;</p> +<p>He'd a word or two in Russian, but he learned the best he'd +got</p> +<p>Off a pious preachin' skipper—and he had to use the +lot....</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Bringin' home the <i>Rio Grande</i> in a seven-days' +gale,</p> +<p class="i2">Seven days and seven nights, the same as JONAH'S +whale,</p> +<p class="i2">Standard compass gone to bits, steering all +adrift,</p> +<p class="i2">Courses split and mainmast sprung, cargo on the shift +...</p> +<p class="i2">Not a chart in all the ship left to steer her by,</p> +<p class="i2">Not a glimpse of star or sun in the bloomin' sky +...</p> +<p class="i2">Two men at the jury wheel, kickin' like a mule,</p> +<p class="i2">Bringin' home the <i>Rio Grande</i> up to +Liverpool.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"The seventh day off South Stack Light the sun began to +shine;</p> +<p>Up come an Admiralty tug and offered us a line;</p> +<p>The mate he took the megaphone and leaned across the rail,</p> +<p>And this or something like it was the answer to her hail:</p> +<p>He'd take it very kindly if they'd tell us where we were,</p> +<p>And he hoped the War was going well, he'd got a brother +there,</p> +<p>And he'd thought about their offer and he thanked them kindly +too,</p> +<p>But since we'd brought her up so far, by God we'd see it +through....</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Bringin' home the <i>Rio Grande</i> (and we done it +too),</p> +<p class="i2">Courses split and mainmast sprung—half a watch +for crew—</p> +<p class="i2">Bringin' home the <i>Rio Grande</i> and her freight +as well,</p> +<p class="i2">Half-a-score of steamboatmen cursing her like +hell—</p> +<p class="i2">Her as led the grain fleet home back in +ninety-eight,</p> +<p class="i2">Ninety days to Carrick Roads from the Golden +Gate—</p> +<p class="i2">Half-a-score of steamboatmen to steer and reef and +haul,</p> +<p class="i2">Bringin' home the <i>Rio Grande</i>—ship and +freight and all."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>C.F.S.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>HELPFUL HOME HINTS</h2> +<h4>(<i>With acknowledgments to the Weekly Papers</i>).</h4> +<p>To keep moth from a haggis, sprinkle well with prussic acid or +cayenne pepper. Repeat three times daily. (This method has never +been known to fail.)</p> +<p>An excellent germicide for wire-worm can be made with two parts +carbolic acid and three parts castor-oil. Rub over the wire-worm +with a soft rag and polish with a clean duster.</p> +<p>To remove dust from whiskers, soak whiskers in paraffin or +petrol for half-an-hour and singe gently with lighted taper.</p> +<p>To clean a carpet, take a small wet tea-leaf and roll it well +over the carpet. Then remove the tea-leaf and store in a dry place. +Take the carpet to the cleaners and you will be surprised at the +result.</p> +<p>An excellent trousers press can be made in the following manner: +Get the local monumental mason to supply you with two slabs of +granite measuring about six feet by two feet and weighing about +seven hundredweight each. Place the trousers on top of one block of +granite, place the other block on top of the trousers and secure +with a couple of book-straps. Finish off with blue +ribbon.—AUNT SADIE.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"America appealed to Ireland for help, and even sent a special +Ambassador—the great Abraham Lincoln—to this country to +state America's case before the Irish Parliament in the year +1771."—<i>Dublin Evening Mail</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>American papers please copy.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"The —— Chamber of Commerce have certainly made a +capture in securing the services of Bragadier-General +——, District Director of the Ministry of Labour, for an +address on 'Demobilisation and the Activities of the Appointments +Department of the left eye, and after treatment was taken the +Portsea Island Gas Company offices."—<i>Provincial +Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We had heard there was some trouble over demobilisation, but had +no idea it was as bad as this.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Arrangements are being made in all the stations throughout +India for the celebration of the signing of the armistice. In Simla +the Commander-in-Chief will be present at a parade on the Ridge at +11.45 a.m., civilians in leaves dress assembling at +11.30."—<i>Times of India</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is pleasant to note that the establishment of the armistice +brought about an immediate return, in Simla at least, to the +conditions of Paradise.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>[pg +35]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/35.png"><img width="100%" src="images/35.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>RUINS OF EMPIRE.</h3> +SHADE OF BISMARCK. "I BUILT WITH BLOOD AND IRON, AND ONLY BLOOD +REMAINS."</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>[pg +36]</span> +<h2>THE NECROMANCERS.</h2> +<p>The other day, while I was out for a ride, I happened to run up +against my two Chinese acquaintances, Ah Sin and Dam Li, and I +stopped to have a chat with them. After the usual greetings Dam Li +remarked:—</p> +<p>"Hon'lable officer lookee too muchee sad."</p> +<p>"Allee same like littlee dog when 'nother big dog stealum bone," +supplemented Ah Sin.</p> +<p>"I wasn't aware of it," I said shortly, a little hurt at the +comparison.</p> +<p>"P'haps hon'lable officer losee lations allee same little dog," +suggested Dam Li.</p> +<p>"Well," I admitted, "I <i>have</i> lost something—at least +the Mess has. Only it isn't rations; it's a milk-jug."</p> +<p>This, our only article of plate, was a battered piece of +treasure-trove salved from the ruins of a derelict village.</p> +<p>Dam Li was all sympathy.</p> +<p>"You talkee China boy. Him findum one time plenty quick," he +announced confidently.</p> +<p>"All right," I said; "only you won't get anything just for +trying, mind. You'll have to succeed."</p> +<p>"China boy no wantchee nothing," replied Dam Li +reproachfully.</p> +<p>"Him only wantchee officer smile allee same like dog waggee tail +when lations come back," added Ah Sin by way of embroidery.</p> +<p>"Thank you," I said gravely. "And when do you propose to start +replacing my smile?"</p> +<p>Apparently there was no time like the present, so back we went +to the Mess and they set to work. Their opening move was somewhat +startling, even to me who knew them of old.</p> +<p>"Giveum China boy one piecee blead," commanded Dam Li.</p> +<p>"What for?" I demurred.</p> +<p>"China Boy eatum blead and talkee plenty good player [prayer]," +said Ah Sin. "Then thief-man too muchee flighten' an' giveum back +jug plenty dam quick."</p> +<p>"But why should he be afraid?" I asked.</p> +<p>Ah Sin was very patient with me.</p> +<p>"Players plenty stlong language talkee," he said. "S'pose +thief-man not giveum back jug, belly get plenty too muchee fat +..."</p> +<p>"An' go bang allee same air-dlagon bomb," broke in Dam Li, +rubbing his hands together at the prospect.</p> +<p>"Very well, you may have your loaf," said I, capitulating; and +then rashly I added, "Is there anything else you'd like?"</p> +<p>"Beer makee players plenty much worser for thief-man," said Ah +Sin ingratiatingly.</p> +<p>In the end I produced the beer as well as the bread and the +incantations commenced. They consisted in getting outside my bread +and beer, and in filling the intervals between mouthfuls with a +copious barrage of Chinese, occasional prostrations and a +considerable amount of laughter. This last aroused my suspicions +and I asked what it meant.</p> +<p>"Thief-man keepee plenty big pain here," explained Dam Li, +indicating the region to which the bread and beer had by now all +descended. "Him topside mad this minute."</p> +<p>"Giveum back jug to-mollow," prophesied Ah Sin. "China boy come +an' see," he added as he got up to go.</p> +<p>The morrow arrived and so did the Chinamen, but not the +milk-jug. This seemed to cause Ah Sin and Dam Li the greatest +surprise.</p> +<p>"Thief-man No. 1 stlong man," asserted the former.</p> +<p>"Wantchee extla double-lation players," agreed his +companion.</p> +<p>"Hon'lable officer giveum China boy 'nother piece blead," +suggested Ah Sin.</p> +<p>"An' baer," added Dam Li hastily.</p> +<p>Nosing an obvious conspiracy I at first refused. However I at +length gave way on the understanding that there was on no account +to be a third imposition. The rites of the day before were +thereupon repeated.</p> +<p>When they were over Dam Li suddenly professed himself to be +inspired.</p> +<p>"China boy seeum jug," he announced.</p> +<p>"Where?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Seeum box, plenty too muchee big," Dam Li went on in sepulchral +tones; "jug inside box."</p> +<p>Ah Sin now joined in.</p> +<p>"Where isum box?" he asked excitedly.</p> +<p>"No savvy," replied Dam Li, shaking his head.</p> +<p>Ah Sin gazed wildly around. Seeing a box in the distance he +rushed at it. Dam Li waved him back.</p> +<p>"That box no dam use," he stated.</p> +<p>Ah Sin tried again.</p> +<p>"P'haps him in dirty box," he suggested.</p> +<p>Dam Li rolled his eyes inwards, as one who consulted an oracle +within.</p> +<p>"Jug inside dirty box," he agreed ultimately, pointing in its +direction.</p> +<p>"Oh, in the dust-bin," I said. "Well, there's no harm in +looking."</p> +<p>So look we did, and there, sure enough, it was. I picked it out +and did some quick thinking.</p> +<p>"Now, when did you two ruffians put it there?" I asked +sternly.</p> +<p>"Thief-man put it there," protested Dam Li, with a magnificent +look of injured innocence.</p> +<p>"I know," said I. "Come on, now, tell me why you stole it, and, +as you've brought it back again, I <i>may</i> let you off."</p> +<p>"China boy's lations too muchee few, him plenty hungly," said Ah +Sin, seeing that the game was up.</p> +<p>"S'pose him sellum jug, buy plenty beer," confided Dam Li +unblushingly.</p> +<p>"But hon'lable officer lookee too muchee sad, so China boy dam +solly. Fetchee back jug," resumed Ah Sin.</p> +<p>As I had often gone out of my way to do the pair a good turn I +was naturally pained at their ingratitude. Taking the jug, I turned +away in silence and left them. Ah Sin pursued me.</p> +<p>"Hon'lable officer likee jug?" he asked.</p> +<p>Dam Li, who had followed, answered for me.</p> +<p>"Likee jug allee same China boy likee lations," he +explained.</p> +<p>"An' China boy gottee lations, blead an' beer, allee same +hon'lable officer gottee jug," continued Ah Sin.</p> +<p>"Then what more can wantchee?" concluded Dam Li +triumphantly.</p> +<p>I surrendered unconditionally.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>GOOD-BYE, AUSTRALIANS!</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Through the Channel's drift and toss</p> +<p class="i2">Swift your homing transports churn;</p> +<p>Soon for you the Southron Cross</p> +<p class="i2">High above your bows shall burn;</p> +<p>Soon beyond the rolling Bight</p> +<p>Gleam the Leeuwin's lance of light.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Rich reward your hearts shall hold,</p> +<p class="i2">None less dear if long delayed,</p> +<p>For with gifts of wattle-gold</p> +<p class="i2">Shall your country's debt be paid;</p> +<p>From her sunlight's golden store</p> +<p>She shall heal your hurts of war.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ere the mantling Channel mist</p> +<p class="i2">Dim your distant decks and spars,</p> +<p>And your flag that victory kissed</p> +<p class="i2">And Valhalla hung with stars—</p> +<p>Crowd and watch our signal fly:</p> +<p>"Gallant hearts, good-bye! <i>Good-bye</i>!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>W.H.O.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="short" /> +<h3>The Aliens in our Midst.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>"But most of the people aboard that car, if they had been +truthfully outspoken, would probably have said, 'Dem's my +sentiments.'"—<i>Evening Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"MARK OF CENTENARIAN.</p> +<p>"Mrs. Rachel ——, a former resident of this city, was +the guest of honor at a dinner served yesterday at her son's home +in Wilkinsburg, the occasion being the 92nd anniversary of her +birth. Mrs. —— was born in Somerset County and resided +in this city before the flood."—<i>American Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>At first we thought the headline a little previous, but the last +sentence shows that it is, on the contrary, decidedly belated.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>[pg +37]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/37.png"><img width="100%" src="images/37.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>Indignant Patriot</i> (<i>to Local Food Committee</i>). "I +WISH TO REPORT THAT THERE'S A GROCER IN THIS TOWN WHO IS SELLING +BUTTER, SUGAR AND JAM WITHOUT COUPONS. HE—"</p> +<p><i>Food Committee</i> (<i>as one man, ecstatically</i>). "WHICH +IS HIS SHOP?"</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>SOMETHING LIKE "LITERARY GOSSIP"!</h2> +<p>Are you not, dear reader, a little tired of what is called +"Literary Gossip"? Be frank. Aren't you? And have you not sometimes +longed even more to know what the industrious fellows were not +writing than what they were?</p> +<p>But suppose we could come across an authentic column like +this?</p> +<p>Mr. KIPLING is putting the finishing touches to a new Jungle +book. The first and second Jungle books have waited too long for +this new companion; but it is now on its way. A friend of the +author, who has been privileged to see an early copy, says that it +is full of all the old enchantment.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Our Burwash correspondent informs us that, not content with the +re-incarnation of <i>Mowgli</i>, Mr. KIPLING has completed a new +romance of wandering life in India, not unlike <i>Kim</i> in +treatment, to be entitled <i>The Great Trunk Road</i>.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>An album has just come to light, the value of which is beyond +computation. On the faded leaves of this book, which once belonged +to Fanny Brawne, are inscribed three new poems in KEATS'S own hand. +Not mere album verses, but poems of the highest importance, equal +to rank to the Odes to the Grecian Urn and the Nightingale. The +book itself will be sold by auction next week, but meanwhile the +poems are to be issued in pamphlet form by Sir SIDNEY COLVIN.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>An enterprising firm of publishers announces for immediate +publication a volume by President WILSON, entitled <i>From White +House to Buckingham Palace</i>. This work is in the form of a diary +of singular frankness, and it contains some vivid accounts of +conversations as well as the writer's honest opinion of some of the +most prominent personages of the moment.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Admirers of O. HENRY will be excited to hear that a bundle of +MS. stories in his best vein, some seventy-five all told (and how +told!), has been discovered in a cupboard in one of his old +lodgings: much as the manuscript of TENNYSON'S <i>In Memoriam</i> +was found in his rooms in Mornington Crescent. How it happened that +the historian of the joys and sorrows, the comedies and tragedies, +of little old Baghdad-on-the-Subway neglected to send these tales +to editors we shall never know, but he was always erratic. The book +will be published at once, both in America and England.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>After an interval of several years—far too many—Sir +JAMES BARRIE has finished a new novel. With his customary reticence +he withholds both the title and the subject; but the important +thing is that the book is at the binders.</p> +<p>Having read those announcements I succumbed to precedent and +woke up.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>An Artful Appeal.</h3> +<p>From a Japanese business circular:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"Ladies and Gentlemen,—Congratulating upon the great +victory of our Allies, we want to supply you Water Colour Pictures +and Antique Prints fresh and much selected subjects painted by the +most famous artists in Japan; so we long to have the honour to +receive your favourable inspection and enjoy yourselves with +triumphing victory for Our Lord's blessing in X'mas time."</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Surely with all the wars and rumours of wars all over the +world, a little mare tact could have been displayed by the powers +that be to keep the peace in the very centre of a British +Protectorate."—<i>Leader (East Africa)</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The quality desired would appear to be the East African +equivalent of horse sense.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>[pg +38]</span> +<h2>MORE REPRISALS.</h2> +<p>That ass Ellis is a poor creature, and, like the poor, he is +always with me. I think he is a punishment inflicted upon me for +some past error.</p> +<p>A short time ago I caught the "flu." Naturally the first person +I suspected was Ellis, but I am bound to confess that I have not +been able to prove it. Indeed, when he followed me to hospital two +days later and was put in the next bed, I felt justified in +exonerating him altogether.</p> +<p>The first remark that he made, when he reached that stage of the +complaint where you feel like making remarks, illustrates just the +kind of man he is. He accused <i>me</i> of giving the thing to +<i>him</i>!</p> +<p>I answered his outburst with the scorn it deserved.</p> +<p>"Preposterous," I said.</p> +<p>I added a few apposite remarks, to which he responded as best he +could. But, medically speaking, I was two days senior to him, so +that when the Sister heard the uproar and bustled up it was he who +was forbidden to speak. She then proceeded to clinch the matter by +inserting a thermometer in his mouth. I defy any man to argue under +such a handicap.</p> +<p>I finished all I had to say and relapsed into an expectant +silence. The Sister returned after a time, read the instrument and +retired without a word. As she passed my bed I saw out of the +corner of my eye that Ellis was watching feverishly. An inspiration +seized me. I stopped her, and in a low voice asked if she had fed +her rabbits. Sister isn't allowed to keep rabbits, but she does. As +I hoped, she put a finger to her lips, nodded and walked away.</p> +<p>"Poor old man," I murmured vaguely to the ward in general. "A +hundred-and-seven and still rising! Poor old Ellis!"</p> +<p>Ellis gave a little moan and collapsed under the bedclothes.</p> +<p>An hour later Burnett went his round. Burnett isn't the doctor, +at least not the official one. I must tell you something about +Burnett.</p> +<p>He is the grandfather of the ward. Though quite a young man he +has grown fat through long lying in bed. He entered hospital, I +understand, towards the end of 1914, suffering from influenza. +Since then he has had a nibble at every imaginable disease, not to +mention a number of imaginary ones as well. Regularly four times a +day he would waddle round the ward in his dingy old dressing-gown, +discussing symptoms with every cot. In exchange for your helping of +pudding he would take your temperature and let you know the answer, +and for a bunch of grapes he would tell you the probable course of +your complaint and the odds against complete recovery. No one +seemed to interfere with him. You see, Burnett was no longer a +case; he was an institution.</p> +<p>He spent a long time by Ellis's bedside. I suspect Ellis wasn't +feeling much like pudding at the moment. I couldn't hear very well +what was going on, but Ellis was chattering as only Ellis can, and +the comfortable Burnett was apparently soothing him with an +occasional "All right, old man. I'll see what I can do for +you."</p> +<p>At length the grapes were all consumed and the huge form of +Burnett loomed above me.</p> +<p>"Why, Mr. L——," said the soothing voice, "I don't +want to alarm you, but really—"</p> +<p>"Really what?" I cried, starting up in bed at the gravity of his +tone.</p> +<p>"Well, you know—your colour; I perhaps—"</p> +<p>He fumbled in the folds of his voluminous gown and produced a +small metal mirror. Then he seemed to change his mind and put it +back again.</p> +<p>"I'd better not," he said softly to himself, and then louder to +me, "Have you got a wife—or perhaps a mother?"</p> +<p>I am no coward, but I confess I was trembling by this time.</p> +<p>"Why?" I cried. "Do you think I ought to send for them?"</p> +<p>"Send for them?" he echoed. "<i>Send for them?</i> And you in +the grip of C.S.M.! It would be sheer madness—murder!"</p> +<p>The cold sweat stood out upon my brow but I kept my head.</p> +<p>"Have an apple, won't you, Mr. Burnett?"</p> +<p>He selected the largest and began to munch it in +silence—silence, that is, as far as talking was +concerned.</p> +<p>"Tell me," I stammered; "wh—what is C.S.M.? And may I have +a look at myself?"</p> +<p>He cogitated. "Shall I?" he muttered. "Yes, I think he ought to +know." Then quite quietly, accompanied by the core of the apple, +there fell from his lips the fatal words "Cerebro-spinal +meningitis."</p> +<p>At the same time he handed me the glass and selected the next +best apple.</p> +<p>I looked at myself. My hair stood straight on end; my face was +whitish-yellow, my eyes blazed with unmistakable fever. A +three-days' beard enhanced the horrible effect.</p> +<p>"Have you any pain—there?" One of his large soft hands +gripped my side and pinched it hard, the other selected the third +best apple.</p> +<p>"Yes," I groaned, "I <i>had</i> pain there."</p> +<p>"Ah!" he shook his head. "And there?" He sat down heavily on my +right ankle. He is a ponderous man.</p> +<p>"Agony," I moaned.</p> +<p>"Ah! And something throbbing like a gong in the brain?" he +inquired, tapping me on the head with the metal mirror.</p> +<p>I nodded dumbly. He rose, shrugging his shoulders.</p> +<p>"All the symptoms, I'm afraid. That's just how it took poor old +Simpson. He had this very cot—let me see, back in '16, I +suppose. I had it very slightly afterwards—it was touch and +go; I was the only one they pulled through—but I only had it +<i>very</i> slightly, you understand—not like that. But cheer +up, old man. I've been told that a fellow got through it in the +next ward—of course he's an idiot now, but he didn't +<i>die</i>. I don't suppose you'll be wanting the rest of these +apples, will you? All right, don't mention it;" and he passed on to +the next cot.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>[pg +39]</span> +<p>When the proper doctor came round a few minutes later (Burnett +says) he found his own thermometer quite inadequate and had to +borrow the one that registers the heat of the ward. When he took it +out of my mouth it wasn't far short of boiling-point, and he wrote +straight off to <i>The Lancet</i> about it; also they had to get +one of those lightning calculator chaps down to count my pulse.</p> +<p>Long before I came to, Ellis had been discharged, the ward had +filled up with fresh cases (except Burnett, of course), and the +armistice had been signed.</p> +<p>When I was well enough they handed me a letter which Ellis had +left for me.</p> +<p>"DEAR L——" (it ran),—"Yes, the rabbits have +had their food. The biggest of them swallowed it all most +satisfactorily.</p> +<p>"Your loving ELLIS."</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href= +"images/38.png"><img width="100%" src="images/38.png" alt="" /></a> +<p>"AND I SUPPOSE YOU WILL BE DEMOBILISED AS SOON AS YOU GET OUT OF +HOSPITAL?"</p> +<p>"OH, NO, MUM. YOU SEE, I WAS A SOLDIER IN CIVVY LIFE."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/39.png"><img width="100%" src="images/39.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>Hostess</i>. "WHAT! GOING ALREADY, DEARS? IT'S VERY +EARLY."</p> +<p><i>Little Girl</i>. "YES—WE HAVE TO GO ON TO ANOTHER +PARTY. WE'RE SORRY, BUT—YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS AT THIS TIME OF +THE YEAR."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<p>SHAKSPEARE on not the least surprising of Mr. LLOYD GEORGE'S +appointments:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"How now, Woolsack? what mutter you?"</p> +<p class="i10"><i>I. Henry IV.</i>, ii. 4, 148.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>ANOTHER HEATHEN CHINEE.</h2> +<p>We were discussing "slim" practices and the prevalence of the +basic desire to get something for nothing.</p> +<p>"If honesty," said one of the company, "is truly the best +policy, then there is a surfeit of the worst politician."</p> +<p>"Yes," said another, "and not only in the West. I assure you, +speaking as the director of an insurance concern in Shanghai, that +you have no monopoly in inventive chicanery. Insurance people must +always be on their guard, but never more so than among the +guileless Celestials. I can give you a case in point. Not long ago +we received a visit from the wife of one of our policy-holders, +saying that her husband was dead and claiming the money.</p> +<p>"'Certainly,' we said, 'the payment will be made, but only after +the usual investigations,' and sent her back to her village. It is +not that we were more suspicious of her than of anyone else, but +such formalities are essential. In this case they turned out to be +peculiarly necessary, for her husband was no more dead than you +are.</p> +<p>"When she got back to him and explained that there is always 'a +catch somewhere' in the insurance business, he took alarm. A +prosecution might be awkward, and at any cost must be evaded. He +therefore played a masterly card by writing the company a personal +letter of explanation, which he pretended was despatched before his +wife's return. The original is in Chinese, but I have an English +translation in my pocket-book."</p> +<p>The pursuit of odd examples of the epistolary art being one of +the principal occupations of my life, I secured a copy of the +document, which in English runs thus:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"<i>To the —— Insurance Company</i>, +<i>Shanghai</i>.</p> +<p>"DEAR SIR,—When I died of a disease that came on suddenly +an intelligent doctor was at once asked for. He forced some fluid +into my mouth and made some injection on my body. He thus succeeded +in bringing me to life again.</p> +<p>"The beneficiary came to your place yesterday. What did she say? +Everything will be discussed after her return.</p> +<p>"Kindly give me your valuable assistance and reply by post.</p> +<p>"Yours faithfully, TSIN KOH."</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>[pg +40]</span> +<h2>JOSHUA.</h2> +<p>On July 1st, 1916, the regiment, in company with several other +regiments and sundry pieces of ordnance, attacked the Hun in the +neighbourhood of the river Somme. A fortnight later the officers of +B Company found themselves in a dug-out in a certain wood. It is +now time to introduce Joshua.</p> +<p>Joshua was at that time our junior subaltern, and we called him +Joshua after Sir JOSHUA REYNOLDS, on account of his artistic +attainments, though portraits by the hand of our Joshua tended +rather more in the direction of caricature than those I have seen +by his illustrious namesake. Upon the wall of that dug-out in that +wood, for instance, was displayed a crude though unmistakable +portrait of our revered Brigadier, a fact of which we were but too +conscious when our revered Brigadier paid us one night an +unexpected visit.</p> +<p>A short conversation ensued, during which the Brigadier gave +rein to a reprehensible passion he had for inquiring into the +<i>vie intime</i> of junior officers. Just as he was leaving he +turned to Joshua.</p> +<p>"Why do they call you 'Joshua'?" he asked. Joshua hesitated. His +eyes rested for an infinitesimal moment on the portrait on the +wall, then on the face of the Brigadier. He cursed me inwardly (as +he told me afterwards) for having addressed him by this name in +such strident tones just as the Brigadier was entering the dug-out; +but for the credit of the British Officer I am happy to say that +Joshua kept his head and showed that ready wit in an emergency +which is the soldier's greatest virtue.</p> +<p>"Well, Sir," he said, "I—I think it's because JOSHUA was a +great warrior."</p> +<p>"Ah, I hadn't thought of that," said the Brigadier as he took +his departure, while I subsided in a fainting condition on to the +floor of the dug-out and asked for brandy.</p> +<p>That night Joshua stopped a piece of shell with his head. We +managed to get him back, but I did not like the look of him and I +quite thought that his number was up. Before we pushed on next day +I took down the portrait of the Brigadier and slipped it into my +pocket-book. I had liked old Joshua well, and I thought I would +keep this as a memento not only of his art but of his ability in +spontaneous untruth.</p> +<p>That was, as I have said, in 1916. Much water had flowed between +the banks of the river Somme before, in August, 1918, Joshua and I +found ourselves in that neighbourhood once more.</p> +<p>But we did find ourselves there, for Joshua's head had proved +tougher than we thought, and with an enthusiasm beyond praise he +had recently wangled his return to the old regiment from a cushy +Base job, and was helping to hasten what we hoped and firmly +believed was Fritz's final "strategical retirement."</p> +<p>We had had three strenuous days, and now, while others carried +on the good work, we were resting by chance in that very wood of +which I have already spoken. I wandered forth at eventide over the +familiar ground, which had lain for some time well within the +German lines, and came suddenly upon the entrance to our old +dug-out! I went down into it and found that, apart from a litter of +empty ration-tins, it was unaltered. Then suddenly I bethought me +of the caricature which still lay in my pocket-book. I had never +told Joshua that I had kept it. It seemed a maudlin thing to have +done and moreover might have given him an exaggerated idea of my +opinion of his art. I took out the picture and looked at it. It had +weathered two years of warfare fairly well. Then with an indelible +pencil I scrawled below it—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"<i>Sehr gute Bilde. F. Biermeister, 3 Preuss. Gard,</i>"</p> +</blockquote> +<p>a hazy recollection of school-German leading me to believe that +"<i>Sehr gute Bilde</i>" meant "Very good picture." Then I pinned +it up on the wall and went in search of Joshua.</p> +<p>"Do you remember that dug-out we used two years ago?" I asked +when I had found him.</p> +<p>"I do," said Joshua. "It was there that I told old Turnips I was +called Joshua after the O.C. Israelites at Jericho."</p> +<p>"That's the place," said I. "It's somewhere round here." And I +led him unostentatiously in the right direction.</p> +<p>"There it is," he cried. "It all comes back to me. Got a +flash-lamp?"</p> +<p>He disappeared below and I sat down and waited—waited for +sounds of astonishment and joy from the bowels of the earth. But I +waited in vain. Silence reigned. Then Joshua's head was thrust +upwards.</p> +<p>"Biermeister!" he called. "You, Biermeister of the 3rd Prussian +Guard, come away below here! There is one, Sir Joshua Reynolds, an +artist, would have a word with you."</p> +<p>I shook my head sadly. Another of my little jokes had proved a +dud. But I did not go below. Joshua is so rough sometimes.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>Siccis Oculis.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>To weep for the fallen who saved us is meet,</p> +<p class="i2">But it causes no kind of surprise</p> +<p>That RAMSAY MacDONALD'S and SNOWDEN'S defeat</p> +<p class="i2">Has dried many millions of eyes.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/40.png"><img width="100%" src="images/40.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>PIVOTAL INDUSTRIES.</h3> +<i>Sergeant</i>. "LET YOUR 'AIR GROW ON SICK LEAVE, 'AVE YER, +LITTLE GOLDILOCKS? THAT AIN'T NO GOOD; YOU'RE TOO LATE TO BE +DEMOBILISED FOR THE PANTOMIMES."</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" id="page41"></a>[pg +41]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/41.png"><img width="100%" src="images/41.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>THAT "DEMOBILISED" FEELING.</h3> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>THE WEARY TITAN.</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Weary of the labours of war-winning—</p> +<p class="i2">Downing mandarins in Downing Street,</p> +<p>Fixing brands of CAIN upon the sinning,</p> +<p class="i2">Bingeing up the Army and the Fleet;</p> +<p>Weary of dislodging Kings and Kaisers,</p> +<p class="i2">Wearier of his friends than of his foes,</p> +<p>Prompted by his medical advisers</p> +<p class="i2">He has wandered South to seek repose.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There to ease his cranial distension</p> +<p class="i2">He will lead the simple life, incog.,</p> +<p>Far from international dissension</p> +<p class="i2">Or upheavals of the under-dog;</p> +<p>Leaving all unread his weekly <i>Hansard</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">Studying only novels at his meals,</p> +<p>Leaving correspondence all unanswered,</p> +<p class="i2">Deaf to FOCH'S passionate appeals.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There, no longer rashly overtasking</p> +<p class="i2">Powers impaired by superhuman strain,</p> +<p>But amid exotic foliage basking,</p> +<p class="i2">He will rest his monumental brain,</p> +<p>Till refreshed, dæmonic and defiant,</p> +<p class="i2">Clad in dazzling amaranthine sheen,</p> +<p>He emerges like a godlike giant</p> +<p class="i2">Once again to dominate the scene.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There, recumbent in a chair with rockers,</p> +<p class="i2">Oft will he indulge in forty winks,</p> +<p>Or, attired in well-cut knickerbockers,</p> +<p class="i2">Decorate the landscape on the links;</p> +<p>Or, with arms upon his bosom folded,</p> +<p class="i2">He will stand as motionless as bronze,</p> +<p>While his features, classically moulded,</p> +<p class="i2">Hourly grow more like NAPOLEON'S.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>What the Conference will do without him</p> +<p class="i2">Hardly can we venture to surmise;</p> +<p>Delegates who would not dare to flout him</p> +<p class="i2">Manifest their joy without disguise.</p> +<p>Freed from his relentless catechizing</p> +<p class="i2">WILSON goes out golfing all the day;</p> +<p>Printers, save for common advertising,</p> +<p class="i2">Sadly put their pica type away.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Still, although this act of self-seclusion</p> +<p class="i2">May create irreparable schism,</p> +<p>Whelm the Conference in dire confusion</p> +<p class="i2">And produce a cosmic cataclysm;</p> +<p>Let us, musing on his past achievement,</p> +<p class="i2">Bear with calm our soul-consuming grief</p> +<p>And condole in their supreme bereavement</p> +<p class="i2">With his Staff, deserted by their Chief.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"COWS, PIGS, ETC.</p> +<p>"GIRL (15), leaving school, desires position in nice office or +bank."—<i>Local Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Much virtue in "etc."</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Mrs. Wilson waved her bouquet of orchards in +salutation."—<i>Local Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>So there is every reason to believe that the PRESIDENT'S visit +was not fruitless.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"No one under 4ft. 9in. has any chance of securing admission to +the London police."—<i>Cork Constitution</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This will be a blow to some of our "bantams."</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Whether the rest of the journey be long or short, he would +follow the same paths and continue to stand up for righteousness +and liberty for the memocracy of this +country."—<i>Scotsman</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Is this another name for the woman's vote?</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"The Telegraph Department notify that the delay in ordinary +traffic to Madras is now normal."—<i>Indian Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In confirmation of the accuracy of the above statement an Indian +correspondent writes that telegrams now reach their destination +nearly as soon as letters.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" id="page42"></a>[pg +42]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/42.png"><img width="100%" src="images/42.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>WAR-TIME COMRADESHIP.</h3> +<i>Charlady</i> (<i>"obliging" for the afternoon in the absence of +all other domestic help</i>). "WELL, I'M OFF NOW. GOOD NIGHT, +ALL."</div> +<hr /> +<h2>A CONFESSION.</h2> +<h3>TO THE RESIDENTS OF CHISWICK MALL.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There is a race of gentle folk</p> +<p class="i2">Who dwell in Chiswick, well content</p> +<p>In houses agéd as the oak,</p> +<p class="i2">But not unpleasing at the rent;</p> +<p>They look across the sunny stream</p> +<p class="i2">As Dr. JOHNSON used to look,</p> +<p>And all their lives are one long dream,</p> +<p class="i2">Though <i>none</i> of them has got a cook,</p> +<p>And there are whispers in the camp,</p> +<p>"It's jolly, but it <i>is</i> so damp."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But they are <i>not</i> exciting. No;</p> +<p class="i2">And you would find that Chiswick Mall</p> +<p>At half-past nine at night or so</p> +<p class="i2">Is far from being Bacchanal;</p> +<p>For, though there come from Chiswick Eyot</p> +<p class="i2">Soft sounds of something going on</p> +<p>Where the wild herons congregate</p> +<p class="i2">And revel madly with the swan,</p> +<p>You might suppose the people dead.</p> +<p>You mustn't; they have gone to bed.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>No extra forces of police</p> +<p class="i2">Were needed here at Armistice;</p> +<p>No little European Peace</p> +<p class="i2">Could tamper with a peace like this.</p> +<p>Yet on the Eve of this New Year</p> +<p class="i2">A strange degrading thing occurred;</p> +<p>A startled Chiswick woke to hear</p> +<p class="i2">Such noise as she has never heard,</p> +<p>The sound of dance and singing at</p> +<p>About eleven. O my hat!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Yes, it was bad. But what is worse</p> +<p class="i2">They know not yet who broke the code,</p> +<p>And the dread Chiswick Fathers' curse</p> +<p class="i2">Still hovers sadly, unbestowed</p> +<p>Nay, there are wild false tales about</p> +<p class="i2">And hideous accusations made;</p> +<p>Men say old Piper led the rout</p> +<p class="i2">With that young fellow from "The Glade,"</p> +<p>While old maids murmur with a tear,</p> +<p>"I'm told it was the Rector, dear."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And since I would not see this shame</p> +<p class="i2">Be fastened on to guiltless men,</p> +<p>And hear that there are those who blame</p> +<p class="i2">The Editor at Number 10,</p> +<p>As having found the evil ones</p> +<p class="i2">And harboured them in his abode</p> +<p>And, after stimulants and buns,</p> +<p class="i2">Dragooned them, shouting, down the road</p> +<p>And carried on till two or three—</p> +<p>I say, O spare him; <i>it was ME!</i></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A.P.H.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Lord Robert Cecil, who has been appointed to take charge of +League of Notions questions at the peace +conference."—<i>Provincial Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We don't like this cynicism.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"There is a 'suave qui peut' at the underground stations during +the busiest hours."—<i>Provincial Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Personally we had not noticed it, being more struck (in the +tenderer portions of our anatomy) by the "fortiter in re."</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<h3>Commercial Candour.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>"The —— Mosquito Destroyer Coil. 1<i>s.</i> +Perfectly Safe for mosquitoes."—<i>Advt. in Burmese +Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"MORE LATE TRAINS. IMPROVED SERVICE ON +G.E.R."—<i>Times</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>An aggrieved East Anglian writes to know how the trains can be +made later than they are.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"WELCOME TO PRESIDENT WILSON, HONOURED CHIEF OF THE GREAT +AMERICAN DEMOCRACY,</p> +<p>"To which we are attached by traditional lies."—<i>Headline +in Italian Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Once more <i>tradditore</i> has turned <i>traditore.</i></p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"At the doorway stood a Red Cross doctor, hypodermic needle in +hand, ready to administer an injunction to relieve sufferers of +their pain."—<i>Daily Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We thought it was only lawyers who believed in the +tranquillizing effect of an injunction.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"FOR SALE.—A Chest C.B. Gelding. Aged 41/2 years. Height +14 feet 3 inches, Veterinary Certificate of soundness. Schooled +since August. Very promising pony all round. Nice surefooted +fencer. Price Rs. 650. Apply to Brigadier-General +——."—<i>Indian Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We gather that whatever he may have done in the past the gallant +officer does not intend to "ride the high horse" any longer.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" id="page43"></a>[pg +43]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/43.png"><img width="100%" src="images/43.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>THE WORLD'S DESIRE.</h3> +PEACE (<i>outside the Allied Conference Chamber</i>). "I KNOW I +SHALL HAVE TO WAIT FOR A WHILE; BUT I DO HOPE THEY WON'T TALK TOO +MUCH."</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" id="page44"></a>[pg +44]</span> <span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" id= +"page45"></a>[pg 45]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/45.png"><img width="100%" src="images/45.png" alt= +"" /></a><i>Mabel</i> (<i>on seeing some shoes of war-time quality +newly-arrived on approval</i>). "MUMMIE, ARE THEY <i>REAL</i> +CARDBOARD?"</div> +<hr /> +<h2>THE OPIUM HOUND.</h2> +<p>Philip is a solicitor whose solicitations are confined to +Hongkong and the Far East generally. Just now he is also a special +constable, for the duration. He is other things as well, but the +above should serve as a general introduction.</p> +<p>In his capacity as special constable he keeps an eagle eye upon +the departing river steamers and the passengers purposing to travel +in them, his idea being to detect them in the act of attempting to +export opium without a permit, one of the deadly sins.</p> +<p>A little while ago Philip came into the possession of a dog of +doubtful ancestry and antecedents, but reputed to be intelligent. +It was called "Little Willie" because of its marked tendency to the +predatory habit. His other leading characteristic was an inordinate +craving for Punter's "Freak" biscuits.</p> +<p>One day Philip had a brain-wave. "I will teach Little Willie," +he said, "to smell out opium concealed in passengers' luggage, and +I shall acquire merit and the Superintendent of Imports and Exports +will acquire opium." So he borrowed some opium from that official +and concealed it about the house and in his office, and by-and-by +what was required of him seemed to dawn on Little Willie, and every +time he found a <i>cache</i> of the drug he was rewarded with a +Punter's "Freak" biscuit.</p> +<p>At last his education was pronounced to be complete and Philip +marched proudly down to the Canton wharf with the Opium Hound. +There was a queue of passengers waiting to be allowed on board, and +the ceremony of the examination of their baggage was going on. +Little Willie was invited to take a hand, which he did in a rather +perfunctory way, without any real interest in the proceedings. +Indeed, his attention wandered to the doings of certain +disreputable friends of his who had come down to the wharf in a +spirit of curiosity, and Philip had to recall him to the matter in +hand.</p> +<p>On a sudden a wonderful change came over the Opium Hound. A +highly respectable old lady of the <i>amah</i> or domestic servant +class came confidently along, carrying the customary round +lacquered wooden box, a neat bundle and a huge umbrella. She was +followed by a ragged coolie bearing a plethoric basket, lashed with +a stout rope, but bulging in all directions. Little Willie sniffed +once at the basket and stiffened. "Good dog," said Philip; "is that +opium you have found?" The hound's tail wagged furiously, and he +scratched at the basket in a paroxysm of excitement. The coolie +dropped it and ran away. The <i>amah</i> waxed voluble and attacked +Little Willie with the family umbrella. The hound grew more and +more enthusiastic for the quest. Philip issued the fiat, "Open that +basket, it contains opium," and struck an attitude.</p> +<p>The basket was solemnly unlashed amid the <i>amah's</i> shrill +expostulations, and the contents soon flowed out upon the floor of +the examination-hut. There was the usual conglomeration: Two pairs +working trousers (blue cotton), two ditto jackets to match, one +suit silk brocade for high days and holidays, two white aprons, +three pairs Chinese shoes, three and a half pairs of Mississy's +silk stockings, several mysterious under garments (from the same +source); one cigarette tin containing sewing materials, buttons of +all sorts and sizes <span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" id= +"page46"></a>[pg 46]</span> nine empty cotton-reels, three spools +from a sewing-machine, one pair nail-scissors (broken); one +cigar-box containing several yards of tape (varying widths), +cuttings of many different materials, one button-hook, one +tin-opener and corkscrew combined, one silver thimble, one ditto +(horn), one Chinese pipe; one packet of tea, one ditto sugar, one +tin condensed milk (unopened), half a loaf of bread (very stale), +two empty medicine bottles—but no opium!</p> +<p>Little Willie was nearly delirious by this time, and tried to +get into the basket, which was now all but empty. The search +continued, and two rolls of material were lifted out: five and a +quarter yards of white calico and three yards of pink silk. This +exposed the bottom of the basket, where lay a tin! Ah, the opium at +last. Philip stepped forward and prised off the lid +triumphantly.</p> +<p>The contents consisted solely of Punter's "Freak" biscuits.</p> +<p>Little Willie has been dismissed from his position as Opium +Sleuth-hound.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/46.png"><img width="100%" src="images/46.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>THE FAVOURED UNIFORM.</h3> +<i>Indignant Lady</i>. "I SUPPOSE <i>I'D</i> HAVE HAD A CHANCE IF +I'D HAD BREECHES ON."</div> +<hr /> +<h3>Commercial Candour.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>"For Sale, owing to ill-health, Pedigree Flemish +Stock."—<i>Daily Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<h3>THE EXODUS</h3> +. +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Like the last rose of Summer</p> +<p class="i2">I'm left quite alone;</p> +<p>All my blooming companions</p> +<p class="i2">To Paris are flown—</p> +<p>Three daughters, two brothers,</p> +<p class="i2">Two sons and a niece</p> +<p>Have all gone to Paris</p> +<p class="i2">To speed up the Peace.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>'Tis just the same story</p> +<p class="i2">Wherever I go,</p> +<p>There's hardly a soul left</p> +<p class="i2">For running the show—</p> +<p>Five thousand officials,</p> +<p class="i2">Not counting police,</p> +<p>Have all gone to Paris</p> +<p class="i2">To speed up the Peace.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There's calm in the City,</p> +<p class="i2">A hush in Whitehall—</p> +<p>A thousand fair typists</p> +<p class="i2">Have answered the call.</p> +<p>Henceforward their clicking</p> +<p class="i2">In London will cease—</p> +<p>They've all gone to Paris</p> +<p class="i2">To speed up the Peace.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">P.S.</p> +<p>An expert accountant.</p> +<p class="i2">Has worked out the cost</p> +<p>Of the keep of officials</p> +<p class="i2">Who've recently crossed.</p> +<p>It must be Three Millions;</p> +<p class="i2">Mayhap 'twill increase</p> +<p>If the delegates dally</p> +<p class="i2">In speeding up Peace.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"THE THAMES RISING.</p> +<p>"LONDON MILK SUPPLY THREATENED."—<i>Pall Mall +Gazette</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A surprising change of affairs.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Sprats in South London are 2½ lb. a +lb."—<i>Continental Daily Mail</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This may explain why our fishmonger's price is 2½ +shillings a shillingsworth.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"The story of an ingenious robbery by three young boys was told +to the Stockport magistrates to-day.</p> +<p>"The magistrates ordered them to receive the birch, usual +way.—Reuter."—<i>Provincial Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It was kind of Reuter to add this detail.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"It is understood an order has been issued for the +demobilisation of men called to the Colours under the last Military +Service Act after they had attained the age of +441."—<i>Provincial Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There can't be very many of them; still it is good to know that +the authorities have made a beginning.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" id="page47"></a>[pg +47]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/47.png"><img width="100%" src="images/47.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>The Knight-Errant.</i> "MY DEAR LADY, I HAVE THE HAPPINESS OF +RESCUING YOU FROM A GREAT PERIL."</p> +<p><i>The Lady (indignantly).</i> "HOW DARE YOU ADDRESS ME, SIR, +WITHOUT A PROPER INTRODUCTION?"</p> +<p><i>The Knight-Errant.</i> "MADAM, IF YOU HAD SPOKEN SOONER I +WOULD HAVE ASKED OUR FRIEND HERE TO FULFIL THAT NECESSARY SOCIAL +OBLIGATION."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>HOW TO DINE WISELY—BUT NOT TOO WELL.</h2> +<p>We are exceedingly pleased to note that our contemporary, <i>The +Pall Mall Gazette</i>, preaches frugality in the most practical +manner by providing a daily <i>menu</i> card, with helpful comments +on the preparation of the viands. The time for an unrestricted +dietary is still far off, and it is a work of national importance +to encourage the thrifty use of what our contemporary calls +"left-overs." Herein we are only following ancient and honourable +precedent, one of the earliest lyrics in the language informing us +that</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"What they did not eat that day</p> +<p>The Queen next morning fried."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Our only fault with the <i>P.M.G.</i>'s <i>chef</i> is that he +is inclined to err on the side of generosity. The dinner for +January 6th, for instance, is composed of no fewer than four +dishes, of which only one is a "left-over." The bill of fare opens +with "Kipper meat on toast"; it proceeds with a fine +<i>crescendo</i> to "Beef <i>á la jardinière</i>," +followed by "Fried macaroni," and declining gracefully on "Cabinet +pudding."</p> +<p>"Left-over meat," as our contemporary remarks, "is more of a +problem nowadays than ever before, for, being generally imported, +it is not so tender as the pre-war home-grown meat to begin with, +and the small amounts that can be saved from the rationed joint +rarely seem sufficient for another meal." An excellent plan, +therefore, would be to provide all the members of the family with +magnifying-glasses. It is easy to believe a thing to be large when +it looks large. Also there is great virtue in calling a thing by a +nutritious name. "Kipper on toast" is not nearly so rich in +carbohydrates, calories and aplanatic amygdaloids as "Kipper +<i>meat</i>." As for the preparation of "left-overs" in such a way +as to render them both appetising and palatable, "all that need be +done is to add a few vegetables and cook them over again." And +herein, as our instructor most luminously observes, "lies one +solution of the problem of quantity, for the amount of vegetables +used, if not the meat, can be measured by the size of the family +appetite." Once more the wisdom of the ancients comes to our help, +for, as it has been said, "the less you eat the hungrier you are, +and the hungrier you are the more you eat. Therefore the less you +eat the more you eat." The instructions for the preparation of a +sauce for the "Beef <i>á la jardinière</i>" seem to +us rather lavish. It is suggested that we should give the whole a +good brown colour by dissolving in it "a teaspoonful of any beef +extract." Walnut juice is just as effective. If the "left-over" is +made of "silver-side," the silver should be carefully extracted and +sent to the Mint. The choice of the vegetables must of course +depend on the idiosyncrasies of the family. In the best families +the prejudice against parsnips is sometimes ineradicable. But if +chopped up with kitten meat and onions their intrinsic savour is +largely disguised. Fried macaroni, as the <i>P.M.G. chef</i> +remarks in an inspired passage, is delicious if properly prepared +with hot milk and quickly fried in hot fat. But, on the other hand, +if treated with spermaceti or train-oil it loses much of its +peninsular charm.</p> +<p>Cabinet pudding, if a "left-over," should perhaps be called +"reconstruction pudding." Here again the amount of egg and sugar +used must vary in a direct ratio with the size of the family +appetite. Prepared to suit that of the family of the late Dr. +TANNER, such a dinner as the above is not merely inexpensive, it +costs nothing at all.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"All mules attached to the American Army in France have little +khaki bags containing gas masks fastened to the collars of their +harness. In the event of a gas attack these are slipped over their +pleading noses."—<i>Daily Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This, we understand, is not what the drivers call them.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" id="page48"></a>[pg +48]</span> +<h2><i>LÈSE-MAJESTÉ.</i></h2> +<p>Our triumphal march into Germany having been arrested just west +of the Meuse, Sir DOUGLAS HAIG (through the usual channels) gave me +ten days' leave to visit the historic town of St. Omer. As I only +asked for seven-days and he gave me ten I knew there was a catch +somewhere. It appeared that the ten days was worked out on the idea +that it would take me five days to get there and five to get back. +Needless to say I ignored trains, which are a snare and delusion in +these days. I lorry-hopped. Most people would think many times +before lorry-hopping from Charleroi to Lille <i>viâ</i> +Brussels and Tournai, but there is nothing that a man with a leave +warrant in his pocket will not do—except perhaps save +money.</p> +<p>It was during this leave that I barged right into GEORGE, +"George" being our very own King, besides being Emperor of +India.</p> +<p>To bridge the apparent gap between my arrival and the perturbing +catastrophe referred to, it is only necessary to add that if you +enter from the main route from Hazebrouck you will find just off +the road a convoy of some sixty dear things seeing as much life as +can be beheld while groping into the insides of the Red Cross motor +ambulance which it is their job to feed, wash, coax and drive.</p> +<p>I have the <i>entrée</i> here (except when the relentless +Miss Commanding Officer chases me out for breaking the +two-and-a-half rules which govern the place), and when I admitted +incautiously that the only place on the Front that I had not seen +or been frightened at was Passchendaele, they smiled pityingly and +promised to take me there on Sunday for a joy ride. Shades of 1917! +What whirligigs of circumstance time and the armistice have brought +us! It was in the joy ride we nearly upset a dynasty.</p> +<p>To accomplish the journey in greater comfort, Vee and her hut +companion Sadie got hold of a perfectly good Colonel man who had a +perfectly good car and had, moreover, a perfectly good excuse to go +to Passchendaele (he was really going to Boulogne), but wanted to +get a good flying start, and we set off. We were a perfectly +organised unit, consisting of four sections (including two No. 2 +Brownie Sections), A.S.C. complement (one lunch basket), Aid Post +(bandage and thermometer, carried as a matter of course by Sadie, +who thinks of these things), a Scotch dog (mascot) and a flask of +similar nationality (medical comforts for the troops).</p> +<p>On our arrival at Ypres the traffic man held up his hand. That +in itself would not have been important, for we have it on great +authority that the blind eye may be employed on really special +occasions, but the fellow stood determinedly in the middle of the +road, and even traffic men, we have always insisted, should not be +run over except on great provocation.</p> +<p>"All traffic stopped between 12 and 2," he said; "the KING is +passing by."</p> +<p>We looked blankly at one another. I have an extraordinary +respect for HIS MAJESTY, but I did wish that he did more of his +work by aeroplane at times.</p> +<p>We ate sandwiches, selected and sited positions for sniping the +royal progress with our No. 2 Brownies and photographed everything +we saw, including an American cooker, the historic "Goldfish +Chateau," and a Belgian leading a little pig, with the inscription, +"The only good Bosch in the country"; but on the whole Ypres on a +Sunday afternoon is hardly more exciting than the "great commercial +centre" of Scotland.</p> +<p>At intervals the Staff dashed up and spoke a word or two to the +traffic man, but they departed again and nothing happened. We +<i>all</i> had a turn at that traffic man, and what we don't know +about his home life, pre-war and probable post-war troubles, isn't +worth putting on any demobilisation paper. And each time we tackled +him we got a different idea of the KING'S movements—HIS +MAJESTY must have had an extraordinarily complex journey that +day.</p> +<p>Suddenly we were free! The KING was going to lunch near the +Cloth Hall and would not be by till 2.30 P.M. Knowing that +<i>any</i> order emanating from a Staff is liable to instant +cancellation we rushed back to the car and told the driver to "Go!" +with the "G" hard, as in shell fire. Whether we went round or over +the traffic man I don't know, but we slid with terrific speed into +Ypres. Traffic was a little congested round the ruined cathedral, +and we barged right up against a panting Ford, which had one lung +completely gone and the other seemingly a little porous. A stream +of traffic was coming down our side of the road; no matter, we must +get on. Urged on by our advice the driver pulled out from behind +the dying Ford and tried to pass. It was fearfully exciting. Some +Staff on the bank began to wave to us. Thinking perhaps they knew +some of us, or thought the girls looked nice, I smiled and nodded +back. More Staff waved more arms. We were awfully pleased with our +reception. Still three abreast on the road, the Ford having +flickered up before death, we reached the crossroads as a large car +with a flag on it came round the corner. The car stopped dead. So +did we. The two cars glared at each other. The Ford writhed forward +hideously in its death agony. I thought I felt funny, and when Vee +whispered something about "the Royal Standard" I knew why. Royal +Standard? Good Lord! I had visions of three laboriously acquired +pips being torn from my sleeves by outraged authorities. The air +was rent by my wild yell to our driver to go on—<i>go on</i> +and carry the Ford with us on our bonnet if necessary.</p> +<p>What happened next is not very clear in my memory. I have a hazy +picture of purple A.P.M.'s, of our GEORGE sitting calmly in a Rolls +Royce, of irrepressible woman poking a No. 2 Brownie against the +window of our car and trying to find a perfectly good king in a +small viewfinder; of the Colonel on my right saluting, with a +fearful waggle of the hand, without his hat on, that article having +been simply swept off by my own tremendous +"circular-motion-thumb-close-to-the-forefinger-touching-the-peak-of-the-cap, +etc., etc." Through the haze I saw HIS MAJESTY graciously return +our salute and I seem to recollect Vee taking his salute as a +personal compliment to the feminine element in the car, and smiling +back delightedly in return.</p> +<p>The next thing I remember was that the car had passed, the +traffic man was gazing reproachfully at us, the Ford had expired +and our chauffeur had stopped his engine. I don't know what Sadie +did all this time, but since, from her position, she must have seen +the whole thing in better perspective, I don't wonder the girl +looked white.</p> +<p>Returning to consciousness I heard Vee utter a tremendous sigh +of intense satisfaction.</p> +<p>"I <i>sniped</i> him," she said, and cuddled the No. 2 Brownie +affectionately.</p> +<p>"Did you turn it round after the last one?" I asked +suddenly.</p> +<p>"No, didn't you?"</p> +<p>And of course we hadn't. And there, in the undeveloped spool +lies HIS MAJESTY superimposed on the back of the Bosch piglet we +had photographed outside Ypres. Isn't that just the hardest of +luck?</p> +<p>I'm going to ask if I can develop the film without running the +risk of losing my commission. After all it's not so very +inappropriate, is it?</p> +<p>L.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Extensive floods are reported in the Home Counties. Mr. Noah +—— had a narrow escape from drowning at —— +on Saturday."—<i>Scotch Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And yet people say, "What's in a name?"</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" id="page49"></a>[pg +49]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/49.png"><img width="100%" src="images/49.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>THE WAR NURSERY.</h3> +<p><i>Nurse</i>. "WHICH BABY HAVE YOU COME FOR?"</p> +<p><i>Little Girl</i>. "THANK YOU, NURSE—I'M BEING +SERVED."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>TO A V.A.D. HALL-PORTERESS.</h3> +<h4>(<i>With apologies to R.K.</i>)</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>If you can keep your courage and your curls up</p> +<p class="i2">When life a whirling chaos seems to be</p> +<p>Of amorous swains who want to ring their girls up</p> +<p class="i2">And get them through at once (as you for me);</p> +<p>If you can calm the weary and the waxy,</p> +<p class="i2">When no appeals, however nicely put,</p> +<p>Can lure from rank or pub. the ticking taxi,</p> +<p class="i2">And they, poor devils, have to go on foot;</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>If you can stem the rush of second-cousins,</p> +<p class="i2">Who crowd to get a glimpse of darling Fred,</p> +<p>When Father, Mother, Aunts and friends in dozens</p> +<p class="i2">Already form a circle round his bed;</p> +<p>If, in a word, you run a show amazing,</p> +<p class="i2">With precious little help to see you through it,</p> +<p>Yours is a temper far above all praising,</p> +<p class="i2">And—here we reach the point—I've seen you +do it.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Annie —— was fined £2 for failing to have the +name attached to apples at a stall in —— Market. Mr. +—— said the public were being wilfully kept in +ignorance as to what they were buying."—<i>Provincial +Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We think the Magistrate was rather pernickety. Most people know +an apple when they see one, but the trouble in these days is to see +one at all.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<h3>THE RULE OF THE ROAD.</h3> +<p>I admire all poilus, and especially did I admire Pierre. Once +only did I find him at fault. It was one of my functions on a +hospital ship plying between —— and —— to +wheel about the more fortunate of the patients. On the occasion on +which I met Pierre he was journeying to his mother in London and +was temporarily engaged in the same pursuit. I beheld him +approaching with his charge and immediately ported my helm. He bore +down on his, keeping to his right, and we collided.</p> +<p>"Keep to your left, you fool!" I cried as the crash came.</p> +<p>"<i>Mais non! le droit, M'sieur.</i>"</p> +<p>Here was a deadlock indeed. It was an English ship, therefore +the English rule of the road should be maintained. On the other +hand, the fact that we were still in French waters was in his +favour. But my stubborn British will would not give way, and Heaven +knows how long we should have remained there had not one of the +invalids grunted, "Caan't thee keep t' the rule o' the waater?" and +I saw a dignified way out of the difficulty. I withdrew to the +right, and we passed on with no animosity towards one another. +Still, it was a near thing for the Entente.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"The unfortunate lady was examining an unloaded pistol when it +went off and caused instantaneous death."—<i>Times of +Ceylon</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In the circumstances we trust we are justified in thinking this +tragic intelligence to be the result of a false report.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" id="page50"></a>[pg +50]</span> +<h2>THE NEW GAME.</h2> +<p>If Hubbard were not my friend I should describe him as one of +the most amiable and most muddle-headed of mankind. Under the +influence of his mind things that are quite clear become confused +and lose themselves in long vistas of statement and sub-statement +and sub-sub-statement, and a plain tale is darkened until at the +end nothing is left of what it originally was. If you don't believe +me listen to what follows.</p> +<p>We were sitting in the drawing-room one evening recently; the +various topics of the day having been more or less exhausted, +somebody proposed a round game as a diversion. Hubbard saw his +chance and dashed in. "Yes, by Jove," he said, "let's have the new +game of 'Likenesses;' it's a perfectly ripping game. I played it +the other day and never laughed so much in my life."</p> +<p>"How do you play it?" I said.</p> +<p>"Oh," said Hubbard, "it's one of the easiest games in the world. +All you have to do is to keep your mind clear and remember what you +are driving at."</p> +<p>"Right," I said. "But what are you driving at?"</p> +<p>"Well," said Hubbard, "one of us goes out or stops his ears and +the rest choose somebody."</p> +<p>"There's nothing very new about that," I said; "I've played it a +thousand times."</p> +<p>"Wait a bit," said Hubbard, "and don't be so ready to plunge. I +tell you this is an entirely new and original game."</p> +<p>"Let him," said somebody else, "get on with it in his own way or +we shall be here till past midnight. Go ahead, Hubbard."</p> +<p>"Well," said Hubbard, "you choose somebody to be a likeness. +When your man comes in again he begins to ask questions."</p> +<p>"Vegetable, animal or mineral," said Butterfield, "I knew it +was."</p> +<p>"No, it isn't," said Hubbard. "The man who has gone out and has +come in says to you, What food does the person you've chosen remind +you of? and you say tapioca pudding or beef-steak and kidney +pie."</p> +<p>"But," I said, "there's nobody in the whole wide world who +reminds me of either of those things."</p> +<p>"Well, you can choose your own food," said Hubbard. "If you +don't like tapioca pudding you can answer scrambled eggs. Only +scrambled eggs must remind you of the person you have in your mind. +Then you go on to the next man, and you ask him what cloth he +reminds you of, and he answers tweed or Irish frieze or best +Angola."</p> +<p>"Can anybody," said Butterfield, "tell me what 'best Angola' +means? I've seen it often in my tailor's bills; mostly, I think, as +waistcoats, but I've never known what it really is. If I had to +guess now I should say it is something composed in equal parts of +fancy waistcoats, tapioca pudding and scrambled eggs."</p> +<p>"Well, you'd be wrong," said Hubbard; "it's nothing of the sort. +When you have got as far as scrambled eggs your man ought to begin +to have a faint glimmering—"</p> +<p>"But," I said, "there's the tapioca pudding. What are you going +to do with that? You can't be allowed to play fast and loose with +that."</p> +<p>"Don't you see," said Hubbard, "that that's a mere example and +now done with? Do please remember that we have got on to Irish +frieze. You must allow me to explain the game in my own way. Now +your man tackles the next person in turn. What building, he asks, +does he remind you of? and the answer is Cologne Cathedral or the +Bank of England."</p> +<p>"It would be difficult to choose anyone who reminded me of +either of those celebrated structures," I said, "but I'll take the +Bank of England for choice."</p> +<p>"But," said Hubbard, "you don't <i>take</i> either of them, you +see it in a flash and it's gone."</p> +<p>"What do you see in a flash?" I said.</p> +<p>"The building that the man who has gone out and is asking +questions in order to guess the person everybody is thinking of +reminds you of," said Hubbard.</p> +<p>"Oh, yes. That makes it absolutely clear," said Butterfield. +"Let's get to work. Personally I haven't got beyond scrambled +eggs."</p> +<p>"And I am lost in tapioca," I said. "Let's get to bed." That's +as far as Hubbard ever got with the explanation of his game. We +left him struggling and went to bed.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>THE TRUTHFUL TRAVELLER.</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>All my life I've been a rover; I have ranged the wide world +over,</p> +<p class="i2">And I've had the very devil of a time;</p> +<p>I've philandered through Alsatia with the nautch-girl and the +geisha;</p> +<p class="i2">I have heard the bells of San Marino chime.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I've hobnobbed in Honolulu with the Zouave and the Zulu,</p> +<p class="i2">I have fought against the Turks at Spion Kop;</p> +<p>In a spirit of bravado I've accosted the MIKADO</p> +<p class="i2">And familiarly addressed him as "Old Top."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I've been captured by banditti, kissed a squaw in Salt Lake +City,</p> +<p class="i2">Carved my name upon the tomb of LI HUNG CHANG,</p> +<p>And been overcome by toddy where the turbid Irrawaddy</p> +<p class="i2">Winds its way from Cincinnati to Penang.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I have crossed the far-famed ferry from Port Said to +Pondicherry;</p> +<p class="i2">In a droschky shot the rapids at Hongkong;</p> +<p>I have pounded to a jelly dancing dervishes at Delhi,</p> +<p class="i2">And I've chased the chimpanzee at Chittagong.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I've smoked baksheesh in pagodas, stood a Dago +Scotch-and-sodas,</p> +<p class="i2">Scaled the mighty Mississippi's snow-clad peaks,</p> +<p>Galloped madly on a llama through lagoons at Yokohama</p> +<p class="i2">And found rubies at Magillicuddy's Reeks.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Where the Tagus joins the Hooghly I have bowled the wily +googly,</p> +<p class="i2">I have heard the howdah's howl at Hyderabad;</p> +<p>On a rickshaw I've gone sailing, with my boomerang impaling</p> +<p class="i2">Hooded cobras on the ice-floes off Bagdad.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I have slain the beri-beri with a ball from my knobkerry;</p> +<p class="i2">I have climbed the Pole and leapt across the +Line;</p> +<p>I've seen seals in Abyssinia and volcanoes in Virginia,</p> +<p class="i2">And I've dived into the shark-infested Rhine.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>From the pemmican's fierce claws and the tiffin's gaping +jaws</p> +<p class="i2">I have never shrunk in abject terror yet;</p> +<p>In the jungle I have tracked them and attacked them and then +hacked them</p> +<p class="i2">Into mincemeat with my trusty calumet.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I have interviewed the MULLAH, KRUGER, MENELIK, ABDULLAH,</p> +<p class="i2">LOBENGULA, SITTING BULL and Clan-na-Gael;</p> +<p>When I think of where I've been, what I've done and what I've +seen,</p> +<p class="i2">I'm surprised that I'm alive to tell the tale.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" id="page51"></a>[pg +51]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/51.png"><img width="100%" src="images/51.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>Standing Lady</i>. "MY HUSBAND WAS MADE A COLONEL JUST BEFORE +THE ARMISTICE."</p> +<p><i>Seated ditto</i>. "MY HUSBAND WOULD HAVE BEEN A GENERAL IF IT +HADN'T BEEN FOR THE WAR."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> +<h4>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks</i>).</h4> +<p>Battle-books have already come to wear (even in so short a time) +a strangely archaic aspect. But <i>Through the Hindenburg Line</i> +(HODDER AND STOUGHTON) is, as its name tells you, nearer to date +than most. The writer, Mr. F.A. MCKENZIE, was a Canadian war +correspondent whom the Canadian Staff, believing (as he himself +says) "that the right place for a war correspondent is where he can +see what he is supposed to describe," allowed to live among the +troops in the front line. As a result of this unusual privilege, +his pictures of the great fights in the last stages of the War have +the reality of personal experience. The actual smashing of the +Line, for example, is an epic of heroism and achievement still +hardly realised by people at home, who cling to an idea that the +final victories were gained over an enemy enfeebled and at +disadvantage. There are other chapters in the record that may +perhaps hardly be welcomed at this moment by those amiable +sentimentalists who would have us treat the enemy as a Bosch and a +brother. The hospital raid at Etaples is one of them; when, even +after the light of the burning huts had made ignorance impossible, +the gentle Hun, swooping low, swept with machine-gun fire the +nurses and doctors who were attempting to remove the wounded. That, +I think, is a memory that will linger. Another picture, queerly +disproportionate in the anger it excites, is that of the fruit +garden in a great country house, with its wealth of famous old +peach and pear trees still in place along the walls, but every one +methodically sawn through. By comparison a trifling crime, but +somehow I may forget other things more easily. One would welcome +the revised judgment of Dr. SOLF upon this particular expression of +the German spirit.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>To those who have been persuaded by writers like Mr. H.G. WELLS +that the horse has not and ought not to have any part in modern +warfare, Captain SIDNEY GALTREY'S <i>The Horse and the War</i> +("COUNTRY LIFE") will come as a revelation. Mr. WELLS has said that +the sight of a soldier wearing spurs makes him sick, or words to +that effect; yet so neglectful were our military authorities of Mr. +WELLS'S opinions and teaching that they went on steadily adding +horses, many of them cavalry horses, to the Army. We began the War +with twenty-five thousand horses, and we finished it with +considerably more than a million, to say nothing of the mules, who +diffused an air of cynical amusement over the military proceedings +in which they were compelled to bear a part. This may conceivably +be one more proof in Mr. WELLS'S eyes of our incurable stupidity. +But those who have watched the work of our armies at close quarters +will be the last to agree with him. Captain GALTREY in fact proves +his case. He has an enthusiasm for horses and has written a most +interesting book. The illustrations are excellent and appropriate, +and the book is admirably got up.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Valour is apt to get the better of discretion in any novel that +attempts to be quite up to date with a political subject. Mrs. +TWEEDALE places <i>The Veiled Woman</i> (JENKINS) in some vague +period later than August, 1914, largely in order to decry a +Government that really by now one fails to <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="page52" id="page52"></a>[pg 52]</span> identify, +and to let off sundry feminist squibs and crackers which, in view +of the present position of woman suffrage, can only be described as +fireworks half-price on the 6th of November. Further, to get all my +grumbles frankly over, she so constantly makes sweeping assertions +against the other sex that even the most chivalrous of male +reviewers may be inclined to kick. To hear a lady pronounce once or +twice that the males of the species are obviously diminishing in +stature and strength, or that the whole programme of the earth's +return to the highest ideals is in woman's hands, may be good for +the masculine soul, but after a while it brings up vividly BESANT'S +story of <i>The Revolt of Man</i>—what happened then and just +why. The claim to a monopoly of self-sacrifice in particular comes +very badly in war-time. All the same, if you cut out this +top-hamper the story of <i>The Veiled Woman</i> on its personal +side is distinctly a good one. I wished the heroine had not spoiled +her fine enthusiasms by mixing them so freely with a personal +vendetta; but after all it is not the characterisation that +intrigues one here. The plot—which I will not spoil by giving +it away—goes excellently, and works up to a capital +climax.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Mr. BOYD CABLE is the literary liaison officer between the +Infantry and the Air Force. In the wonderful stories contained in +<i>Airmen O' War</i> (MURRAY) his object is to make the armies on +the ground understand what they owe to the armies of the air. If +they suffer from a lack of understanding, this is not, I gather, +likely to be removed by the airmen themselves, for they have +evidently imbibed some of the spirit of our Navy and are +magnificently reluctant to talk about their achievements. But this +reticence has its dangers, and Mr. BOYD CABLE has set to work to +remove them. Here he has written nothing for which he cannot find +"an actual parallel fact." I honestly believe him and commend his +book both to those who have a passion for tales of high adventure +and also to those—if there are such—who need authentic +instances of what our Airmen O' War have done for us.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The best I can honestly say of <i>Tony Heron</i> (COLLINS) is +that it has all the makings of a good novel, but unfortunately +stops there, unmade or rather unvitalized. It is the tale of a +boy's upbringing by a sternly antagonistic father, of his growth to +maturity, his love affairs, and in due course his relations with +his own son. All the events happen that are proper to a scheme of +this type; but somehow, despite the fact that Mr. C. KENNETT BURROW +wields a practised and often picturesque pen, the whole affair +remains a literary exercise and declines to come alive. Perhaps in +justice I should except two characters, <i>Roland</i>, the +sturdy-son born out of wedlock to <i>Tony</i>, and <i>Phil</i>, +weakling child of old <i>Heron</i> by a second marriage. Both these +and the relation of the pair to each other furnish a pleasant +contrast to the anæmia which seems to affect the rest of the +tale. Stay, there is yet another, <i>Kenrick</i>, the private tutor +of <i>Tony</i>, whose treatment by the author is at least vigorous. +I found him just a little surprising. A creature, we are told, over +fond of good food and wine, who, dining with his pupil on the +latter's sixteenth birthday and attempting convivial airs, is shown +his place with a promptitude recalling the best manner of the +eighteenth century. Subsequently, one gathers, he took to chronic +alcoholism, combined with amateur blackmail; and a final appearance +shows the fellow dribbling wine over the evening shirt, to whose +wear the author is at pains to tell us he was unused. Clearly a low +race, these tutors, about whom I seem hitherto to have been +strangely misinformed.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Captain ROBERT B. ROSS has made excellent business of <i>The +Fifty-First in France</i> (HODDER AND STOUGHTON). In any case there +could be no doubts about the merits of this famous Scottish +territorial division; it is one of the very many British divisions +which has proved itself the best of all. I recall its first +appearance at the Front as a constituted unit, and can speak to it +that the impression its arrival caused was welcome and comforting. +But our author is not only a soldier; he has also the literary art. +Clearly he appreciates that a fine subject is not all that is +wanted to make a good book; that one needs, for instance, the gift +of observation, the power of conveying an impression, and a reserve +of humour always ready at need. All these are his in abundance. His +book treats of two earlier periods of the war; the second, the +long-drawn offensive of the Somme, will make the most intimate +appeal to men of his own and the other divisions involved. To those +who knew the affair at first hand the story will recall much that +they saw and felt themselves; often they will recognise a +map-reading or will come across the name of a humble billet which +they too regarded as a paradise replete with every modern comfort. +Upon those who now learn it for the first time a deep and enduring +impression will be produced. Captain Ross writes always with a due +respect for the serious nature of his subject; but there are times +when he breaks away from his military and literary discipline. +There is for example, a moment when he dines well, "no more wisely +than was desirable, no less wisely than was excusable." It must be +added that the accompanying sketches are, if not of an ambitious +order, yet of a certain merit. At any rate they assist.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href= +"images/52.png"><img width="100%" src="images/52.png" alt= +"" /></a><i>Desperate Tenant</i>. "CONCENTRATE ON THE COAL-SHED, +GUV'NOR."</div> +<hr /> +<h3>Smith Minor Again.</h3> +<p>"<i>Cæsar autem erat imperator sui generis.</i>" "Now the +Kaiser was a general of the pig tribe."</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<h3>The Silent Service.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>"As the President's steamer came alongside the officer shouted +an inaudible order down a tube. There was a snap and a crash. A +button was pressed, and, presto!"—<i>Daily Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="full" /> +<pre> + + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10952 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/10952-h/images/33.png b/10952-h/images/33.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c7e00da --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/33.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/35.png b/10952-h/images/35.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..18b9683 --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/35.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/37.png b/10952-h/images/37.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..57713c1 --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/37.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/38.png b/10952-h/images/38.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e9ae64 --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/38.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/39.png b/10952-h/images/39.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b08686c --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/39.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/40.png b/10952-h/images/40.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..31a6990 --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/40.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/41.png b/10952-h/images/41.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..78b740e --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/41.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/42.png b/10952-h/images/42.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..912c5f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/42.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/43.png b/10952-h/images/43.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2cbd7df --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/43.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/45.png b/10952-h/images/45.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..07ef047 --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/45.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/46.png b/10952-h/images/46.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..aafac2b --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/46.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/47.png b/10952-h/images/47.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..51b6dbe --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/47.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/49.png b/10952-h/images/49.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..91f64fe --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/49.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/51.png b/10952-h/images/51.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0724f81 --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/51.png diff --git a/10952-h/images/52.png b/10952-h/images/52.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..891e322 --- /dev/null +++ b/10952-h/images/52.png |
