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diff --git a/old/11133-h/11133-h.htm b/old/11133-h/11133-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..10f6ff0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11133-h/11133-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1925 @@ +<!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=iso-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, Jan. 8, 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> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, +Jan. 8, 1919, by Various, Edited by Owen Seamen</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, Jan. 8, 1919</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Release Date: February 17, 2004 [eBook #11133]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: iso-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 156, JAN. 8, 1919***</p> +<br /> +<center><b>E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, 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 8, 1919.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>[pg +17]</span> +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> +<p>The mystery of the Foreign Office official who has not gone to +Paris for the Peace Conference has been cleared up. He is the +caretaker.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"The King and Queen of Roumania," says a Paris paper, "will +embark after Christmas, orthodox style, for Western Europe." It is +easy enough to start a voyage, orthodox style; the difficulty is at +the other end.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The supreme command of the German Navy, says a telegram, has +been transferred to Wilhelmshaven. This looks like carelessness on +the part of the watch at Scapa Flow.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>This year's <i>Who's Who</i> has eighty-six more pages than that +of last year. On the other hand, since the Election quite a number +of people are not Who at all.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"The present rule in <i>Who's Who</i>," says <i>The Evening +News</i>, "is that the more important a man is the less space he is +content to occupy." As some of the staff of our evening Press do +not occupy any space at all in this excellent publication we leave +readers to draw their own conclusions.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The <i>Frankfürter Zeitung</i> observes that the ex-Kaiser +has grown very silent and morose. It is supposed that he has +something or other on his mind.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A Copenhagen message states that the Spartacus people have three +times attempted to murder Count REVENTLOW, who is said to regard +these attempts as being in the worst possible taste.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Once again the newspapers have been beaten. It appears that +Princess PATRICIA knew of her engagement some time before the Press +announced it to Her Royal Highness.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"We still believe," says the <i>Kölnische Zeitung</i>, +"that in thought the German and the Britisher are racially akin." +All the same we should not encourage the Hun to come over here with +the idea of making a spiritual home among his alleged +relatives.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Charged with drunkenness at the Thames Police Court a man +attributed his condition to the beer habit. It is remarkable how +men will cling to any sort of excuse.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Woolwich Arsenal, we are informed, is turning out milk-cans. Can +nothing be done, asks a pacifist, to save our children from the +insidious grip of militarism?</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Nottinghamshire War Committee states that rat-catchers are now +demanding four pounds a week. Diplomacy, it appears, is the only +branch of British sport that has succeeded in escaping the taint of +professionalism.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Fractious mules," says a correspondent of <i>The Daily +Mail</i>, "should not be sent to the country for sale." The playful +kind, on the other hand, that bite and kick from sheer <i>joie de +vivre</i>, are bound to have a beneficial effect on the +agricultural temperament.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A Guildford allotment-holder successfully grew new potatoes for +Christmas-day dinner. All were eaten, it appears, except one, which +was kept to show to the Christmas pudding.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>There is no truth in the report that Mr. DANIELS, U.S. Secretary +for the Navy, has received a telegram from Mr. WILLIAM RANDOLPH +HEARST, saying, "You furnish the navy and I'll furnish the +war."</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"The Crystal Palace," says. Dean INGE, "is the embodiment of +spiritual emptiness." A determined attempt is to be made to find +out what the Crystal Palace thinks of Dean INGE.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Stories of an unsuccessful Candidate in the Midlands, who was +heard to admit that the voters probably preferred his opponent's +personality, must be definitely regarded as apocryphal.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Traditions in Scotland die hard. We gather that it is stili +considered unlucky for a red-headed burglar to cross a Scottish +threshold on New Year's Eve.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A man at Berne has recently confessed to a murder he committed +twenty-one years ago. This is what comes of memory-training.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>It is reported that TROTSKY has been ordered by his doctor to +take a complete rest. He has therefore decided not to have any more +revolutions for the present. Orders however will be executed in +rotation.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Credit where credit is due. A woman fined at Wood Green Police +Court said her name was JOLLY and she had been having a +"jollification," yet the magistrate refrained from comment.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Where was the Poet Laureate during the visit of President +Wilson?" asks a correspondent in a contemporary. We do not share +this curiosity.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Foxes are to be found within an omnibus ride of Charing Cross," +says Mr. RICHARD KEARTON. Young omnibuses with plenty of bone and +stamina are the best for suburban meets.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Anemones, said a lecturer at the Royal Institution, will live as +long as sixty years in captivity and are very intelligent. +Nevertheless we refuse to swallow the story about their being +taught to jump through a hoop. The man who told it must have been +thinking of an Egyptian king of the same name.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The LORD-LIEUTENANT, it is stated on good authority, threatens +that if Sinn Fein prisoners destroy any more jails they will be +rigorously released.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href= +"images/17.png"><img width="100%" src="images/17.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>The Fare</i>. "I DEFY YOU!"</p> +<p><i>The Driver</i>. "WHO ARE YOU?"</p> +<p><i>The Fare</i>. "I AM A RETIRED TAXI-DRIVER."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote>"Sir Eric Geddes speaks of +£50,000,000,000—a sum so vast that it could not be paid +off in a century of annual payments so small as +£2,000,000,000 each."—<i>Yorkshire +Paper</i>.</blockquote> +<p>Our contemporary overestimates the difficulty.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>[pg +18]</span> +<h2>THE VERDICT OF DEMOCRACY.</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The nation's memory, then, is not so short;</p> +<p class="i2">It still recalls the fields we lately bled on;</p> +<p>And when it had to choose the likeliest sort</p> +<p class="i2">For clearing up the mess of Armageddon</p> +<p class="i4">And making all things new,</p> +<p>It chose the man whose courage saw it through.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Hun-lovers, pledged to Peace (the German kind),</p> +<p class="i2">And such as sported LENIN'S sanguine token,</p> +<p>Appealed to Liberty to speak her mind,</p> +<p class="i2">And Liberty has very frankly spoken,</p> +<p class="i4">Strewing around her polls</p> +<p>The remnants of their ungummed aureoles.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In Amerongen there is grief to-day;</p> +<p class="i2">I seem to hear the martyr of Potsdam say,</p> +<p>"Alas for SNOWDEN, gone the downward way,</p> +<p class="i2">And O my poor, my poor beloved RAMSAY;</p> +<p class="i4">I much regret the rout</p> +<p>That washed this couple absolutely out!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Dreadfully, too, the heart of TROTSKY bleeds,</p> +<p class="i2">To match the stain upon his reeking sabre,</p> +<p>Which is the blood of Russia, when he reads</p> +<p class="i2">How BARNES, the champion knight of loyal Labour,</p> +<p class="i4">Downed in the Lowland lists</p> +<p>MACLEAN, the Red Hope of the Bolshevists.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But here is jubilation in the air</p> +<p class="i2">And matter made to build the jocund rhyme on,</p> +<p>Though in our joyance some may fail to share,</p> +<p class="i2">Like Mr. RUNCIMAN or Major SIMON,</p> +<p class="i4">That hardened warrior, he</p> +<p>Who won the Military O.B.E.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Already dawns for us a golden age</p> +<p class="i2">(Lo! with the loud "All Clear!" our pæan +mingles),</p> +<p>An era when the OUTHWAITES cease to rage</p> +<p class="i2">And there is respite from the prancing PRINGLES,</p> +<p class="i4">And absence puts a curb</p> +<p>On the reluctant lips of SAMUEL (HERB.).</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>O.S.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>HOW TO THROW OFF AN ARTICLE.</h2> +<p>"Do you really write?" said Sylvia, gazing at me large-eyed with +wonder. I admitted as much.</p> +<p>"And do they print it just as you write it?"</p> +<p>"Well, their hired grammarians make a few trifling alterations +to justify their existence."</p> +<p>"And do they pay you quite a lot?"</p> +<p>"Sixpence a word."</p> +<p>"Oo! How wonderful!"</p> +<p>"But not for every word," I added hastily, "only the really +funny ones."</p> +<p>"And they send it to you by cheques?"</p> +<p>"Rather. I bought a couple of pairs of socks with the last +story; even then I had something left over."</p> +<p>"And how do you write the stories?"</p> +<p>"Oh, just get an idea and go right ahead."</p> +<p>"How wonderful! Do you just sit down and write it straight +off?"</p> +<p>I just—only just—pulled myself up in time as I +remembered that Sylvia was an enthusiast of twelve whose own +efforts had already caused considerable comment in the literary +circles described round the High School. I felt this entitled her +to some claim on my veracity.</p> +<p>"Sylvia," I cried, "I shall have to make a confession. All those +stories you have been good enough to read and occasionally smile +over are the result of a cold-blooded mechanical process—and +the help of a dictionary of synonyms."</p> +<p>"Oo! How wonderful! Do show me how."</p> +<p>"Very well. Since you are going to be a literary giantess it is +well that you should be initiated into the mysteries of producing +what I shall call the illusion of spontaneity. Now take this story +here. Here on this old envelope is THE IDEA."</p> +<p>"Oo! Let me see. I can't read a word."</p> +<p>"Of course you can't; nobody could. Rough copies are divided +into classes as follows:—</p> +<p>"No. 1. Those I can read, but nobody else can.</p> +<p>"No. 2. Those I can't read myself after two days.</p> +<p>"No. 3. Those my typist can read.</p> +<p>"This story is about a certain Brigade Major who is an +inveterate leg-puller. Some Americans are expected to be coming for +instruction. Well, before they arrive the Brigade Major has to go +up to the line, and on his way he meets a man with a very new tin +hat who asks him in a certain nasal accent we have all come to love +if he has seen anything of a party of Americans. Spotting him as a +new chum, the Brigade Major offers to show him round the line, and +proceeds to pull his leg and tells him the most preposterous +nonsense. For instance, on a shot being fired miles away he +pretends they are in frightful danger, and leads him bent double +round and round trenches in the same circle."</p> +<p>"What a shame!"</p> +<p>"Wasn't it? Well, when he gets tired he asks the American if he +thinks he has learnt anything. The American says, 'Gee, I've been +out here two years now, but I guess you've taught me a whole heap I +didn't know. I'm a Canadian tunneller, you know, and I've got to +show some Americans our work, but I guess I've had a most +interesting time with you."</p> +<p>"Ha! ha!"</p> +<p>"Well now, to put the story into its form. Here's Copy No. 1, on +this old envelope. 'Americans coming—Brigade Major sees +American looking for party—pulls his leg—pretends to +being in frightful danger—American is Canadian who has been +out two years.' See? Copy No. 2. Here we begin to till in. Describe +Brigade headquarters and previous leg-pulls of Brigade Major. Make +up details of what he tells the American—'That's a trench. +That thing you fell over is a coil of wire. This is a sunken +road—we sunk it, etc., etc.' Copy No. 3, additions and +details, little touches of local colour, revision of choice of +words, heart-rending erasions. And here, my child," I concluded, +bringing out the beautiful, clean, smooth typed copy—"here is +the finished work itself, light, pleasant, fluent, humorous and, +most important of all, spontaneous."</p> +<p>"Oo! But how awfully cold-blooded. I thought you smiled to +yourself all the time you wrote it."</p> +<p>"My dear girl, it takes hours. If I smiled continually all that +length of time the top of my head would come off."</p> +<p>"Isn't it wonderful? Fancy building it all up from jottings on +an old envelope! What's that piece of paper you took out of the +typed copy?"</p> +<p>"Oh, that's nothing to do with the literary side of it," I said, +crumpling up the little memorandum, which said that the Editor +presented compliments and regretted that he was unable to make use +of the enclosed contribution.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Mr. Henderson ... was received with a cry of 'He is not on the +map now.'"—<i>Times</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is supposed that his supporter meant to say "not on the +mat"—in reference to an incident at the close of Mr. +HENDERSON'S Ministerial career. But many a true word is said in the +Press by inadvertence.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>[pg +19]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/19.png"><img width="100%" src="images/19.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>THE WAR AGAINST THE PUBLIC.</h3> +PROFITEERING HEN. "NOTHING DOING AT FIVEPENCE. BUT I MIGHT PERHAPS +LAY YOU ONE FOR NINEPENCE. WHAT! YOU THOUGHT THE WAR WAS OVER? NOT +<i>MY</i> WAR."</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>[pg +20]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/20.png"><img width="100%" src="images/20.png" alt= +"" /></a><i>Dear Old Lady (to returning warrior)</i>. "WELCOME BACK +TO BLIMEY!"</div> +<hr /> +<h2>A DEMOBILISATION DISASTER.</h2> +<p>Private Randle Janvers Binderbeck and Private John Hodge (of No. +12 Platoon) both enlisted in 1914. Previously Handle wrote +articles, mostly denunciatory. He denounced the Government of the +day, tight skirts, Christian Science, scorching on scooters, the +foreign policy of Patagonia and many other things. John, on the +other hand, had not an agile brain. He worked on a farm in some +incredibly primitive capacity, and the only thing that he denounced +was the quality of the beer at the "Waggon and Horses." It +certainly was bad.</p> +<p>In the Army Randle had no ambition except to get out of it and +to remain a private while in it. His ambition for his civil career +was tremendous. He tried to prod the placid John (his neighbour in +their hut) into an equal ambition.</p> +<p>"My poor Hodge," said Randle to John, "you must cultivate a soul +above manure. Does it satisfy you, as a man made in the image of +God, to be able to distinguish between a mangold and a swede? Think +of the glory of literature, the power of the writer to send forth +his burning words to millions and sway public opinion as the west +wind sways the pliant willow."</p> +<p>"I dunno as I'd prefer that to bird-scaring or suchlike," +murmured John.</p> +<p>Goaded by such beast-like placidity, Randle would forget all +restraint in trying to lash John into a worthy ambition.</p> +<p>It was for talking after "Lights out" that Randle and John were +given a punishment of three days' confinement to barracks. Randle, +pouring out a devastating torrent of words in the manner of a +public orator, bitterly denounced the punishment; John, who had +merely snored (the Captain said it took two to make a +conversation), bore it with the stoicism of ignorance.</p> +<p>Randle used to dream of Peace Day. He heard Sir DOUGLAS HAIG +order his Chief-of-Staff to summon Private Randle Janvers +Binderbeck. "Release him at once," said HAIG, in Randle's dream, +"to resume his colossal mission as leader and director of public +opinion."</p> +<p>If John dreamed, it was of messy farmyards and draughty fields; +but it is improbable that he dreamed at all.</p> +<p>They both went to the War and faced the Hun. Randle thought of +the Hun only as a possible wrecker of his career, therefore as a +foe of mankind. John hardly thought of the Hun except in the course +of coming into contact with him, and then he used his bayonet with +careless zeal.</p> +<p>Randle steeled himself against the rough edges of soldiering. He +allowed neither the curses of corporals nor the familiarities of +second-lieutenants to affect his dreams of the future. Always, even +<i>sotto voce</i> in the last five minutes before going over the +top, he kept before John his vision splendid.</p> +<p>It was thoir luck to remain together and unhurt. Then arrived +the great day when the Hun confessed defeat. Randle vainly awaited +a sign from the Commander-in-Chief.</p> +<p>There came, however, a moment when No. 12 Platoon was paraded at +the Company Orderly-room. Particulars were to be taken before +filling up demobilisation forms. Men were to be grouped, on paper, +according to the nation's demand for their return to civil +life.</p> +<p>Randle Janvers Binderbeck knew this was <i>der Tag</i>. +Magnanimously he overlooked the delay and felt that HAIG might, +after all, have an excuse. John Hodge remained placid. He had long +ago classed Randle's goadings with heavies and machine-guns, as +unavoidable incidents of warfare.</p> +<p>Randle and John were called into the orderly-room together. By +an obvious error John was first summoned to the table.</p> +<p>"Well, Hodge," said the Company <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"page21" id="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span> Sergeant-Major, "what's +your job in civil life?"</p> +<p>"I dunno as I got any special job," said John. "I just sort o' +helped on the farm."</p> +<p>"You must have a group," said the C.S.M. "What did you mostly do +before the War?"</p> +<p>"S' far as that do go," said John, "I were mostly a +bird-scarer."</p> +<p>"'Bird-scarer,'" said the C.S.M. "I know there's a heading for +that somewhere. Agricultural, ain't it? 'Bird-scarer.' Ah, here we +are. 'Group 1.' You'll be one of the first for release."</p> +<p>The Company Clerk noted the fact, and the C.S.M. called "Next +man."</p> +<p>Randle Janvers Binderbeck stepped forward.</p> +<p>"What's your job, Binderbeck?" said the C.S.M.</p> +<p>(To ask Lord NORTHCLIFFE, "Do you sell newspapers'\?" To ask +BOSWELL, "Have you heard of a man named JOHNSON?" TO ask HENRY +VIII, "Were you ever married?")</p> +<p>The futility of the question flabbergasted Randle.</p> +<p>"Come on, man," said the C.S.M.</p> +<p>Randle made an effort. "Journalist," he said.</p> +<p>"'Journalist,'" said the C.S.M., "'Journalist.' Yes, I thought +so. 'Group 41.' You've got a long way to go, my lad. You 'd have +done better if you was a bird-scarer, like Hodge. Them's the boys +the nation wants—Group 1 boys. You sticks in the Army for +another six months' fatigue. Next man."</p> +<p>That was all.</p> +<p>John Hodge is now soberly awaiting demobilisation, and will not +have to wait long.</p> +<p>Randle Janvers Binderbeck is secretly consoling himself by +writing the most denunciatory articles. They will never be +published, but they afford an alternative to cocaine.</p> +<p>He feels that he can never again consent to sway public opinion +as the west wind, etc., in the interests of a nation which rates +him forty groups lower than an animated scarecrow.</p> +<p>It is the nation's own fault, Randle is blameless.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>A Noisy Salute.</h3> +<p>From a review of <i>The Remembered Kiss</i>, in <i>The +Westminster Gazette</i>:—</p> +<blockquote>"It would be doing Miss Ayres an injustice to suppose +that there is only one kiss to remember in the whole of her novel, +but the one which gives its title is bestowed by a young and +handsome burglar, and received by a girl who mistook the noise he +was making for a thunders torm."</blockquote> +<p>As TENNYSON says in <i>The Day-Dream</i>: "O love, thy kiss +would wake the dead!"</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:65%;"><a href= +"images/21.png"><img width="100%" src="images/21.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>Father (bringing son home from party)</i>. "WELL, OLD CHAP, +WERE THERE PLENTY OF LITTLE GIRLS FOR YOU TO DANCE WITH?"</p> +<p><i>Son (rather proud of himself)</i>. "OH, THESE WERE SOME KIDS +ABOUT, BUT <i>I</i> DANCED WITH A GIRL OF SIXTEEN—AND, BY +JOVE, SHE LOOKED IT."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>FREAKS OF FOOD-CONTROL.</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Though Mrs. Midas shows a righteous zeal</p> +<p>In preaching self-control at every meal,</p> +<p>She never in her stately home forgets</p> +<p>To cater freely for her precious pets.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>On cheese and soup she feeds her priceless "Pekie"—</p> +<p>Stilton and Cheddar, Bortch and Cocky-leekie;</p> +<p>And Max, her shrill-voiced "Pom," politely begs</p> +<p>For his diurnal dole of new-laid eggs.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Semiramis, her noble Persian cat,</p> +<p>Threatens to grow inelegantly fat</p> +<p>Upon asparagus and Shaker oats,</p> +<p>With milk provided by two special goats.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Meanwhile her governess subsists on greens,</p> +<p>Canned conger-eel or cod and butter-beans,</p> +<p>And often in a black ungrateful mood</p> +<p>Envies the dogs and cat their daintier food.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"On one side was the naval guard of honour—splendid men +from the ships of the Dover Patrol—and on the other side a +military guard from the Garrison with the band of the Buffs waiting +to play President Wilson into England with 'The tar-spangled +Banner.'"—<i>Provincial Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A pretty compliment to the naval escort.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>[pg +22]</span> +<h2>THE MUD LARKS.</h2> +<p>Our Mr. MacTavish is a man with a past. He is now a cavalry +subaltern and he was once a sailor. As a soldier at sea is never +anything but an object of derision to sailors, correspondingly the +mere idea of a sailor on horseback causes the utmost merriment +among soldiers.</p> +<p>"Sailors on horseback!"—the very words bring visions of +apoplectic mariners careering madly across sands, three to a horse, +every limb in convulsion. Why, it's one of the world's stock +jokes.</p> +<p>The pathetic part of it is that, obeying the law of opposites, +the saddle has an irresistible and fatal attraction for the poor +chaps. They take to it on every possible and impossible occasion. +You can see them playing alleged polo at Malta, riding each other +off at right angles and employing their sticks as grappling irons. +You can see them over from the Rock whooping after Spanish foxes, +bestriding their steeds anywhere but in the appointed place.</p> +<p>As every proper farmer's boy has long, long thoughts of magic +oceans, spice isles and clipper ships, so I will warrant every +normal Naval officer dreams of a little place in the grass +counties, a stableful of long-tails and immortal runs with the +Quorn and Pytchley.</p> +<p>It was thus with our Mr. MacTavish, anyhow. A stern parent and a +strong-armed crammer projected him into the Navy, and in the Navy +he remained for years bucketing about the salt seas in light and +wobbly cruisers, enforcing intricate Bait Laws off Newfoundland in +mid-winter, or playing hide-and-seek with elusive dhows on the +Equator in midsummer, but always with a vision of that little place +in his mind's eye.</p> +<p>His opportunity arrived with the demise of the stern parent and +the acquisition of a comfortable legacy. MacTavish sent in his +papers and stepped ashore for good. He discovered the haven of his +heart's desire in the neighbourhood of Melton, purchased a pig and +a cow (which turned out to be a bullock) to give the little place a +homely air, engaged a terrier for ratting and intercourse, and with +the assistance of some sympathetic dealers was assembling as +comprehensive a collection of curbs, spavins, sprung tendons, +pin-toes, herring-guts, ewe-necks, cow-hocks and capped elbows as +could be found between the Tweed and Tamar, when—Mynheer W. +HOHENZOLLERN (as he is to-day) went and done it.</p> +<p>The evening of August 4th, 1914, discovered MacTavish sitting on +the wall of his pig-sty, his happy hunting prospects shot to +smithereens, arguing the position out with the terrier. He must +attend to this war, that was clear, but need he necessarily go back +to the salt sea? Couldn't he do his bit in some other service? What +about the Cavalry? That would mean galloping about Europe on a +jolly old gee, shouting "Hurrah!" and cutlassing the +foot-passengers. A merry life, combining all the glories of +fox-hunting with only twenty-five per cent. of its +safety—according to <i>Jorrocks</i>.</p> +<p>What about the Cavalry, then? The terrier semaphored complete +approbation with its tail stump and even the pig made enthusiastic +noises.</p> +<p>A month later MacTavish turned up in a Reserve Regiment of +Cavalry at the Curragh as a "young officer." The Riding-Master +treated his case as no more hopeless than anybody else's and +MacTavish was making average progress until one evening in the +anteroom he favoured the company with a few well-spiced Naval +reminiscences.</p> +<p>Next morning the Riding-Master was convulsed with merriment at +the mere sight of him, addressed him variously as Jellicoe, Captain +Kidd and Sinbad, and, after first warning MacTavish not to imagine +he was ashore at Port Said riding the favourite in a donkey Derby, +translated all his instructions into nautical language. For +instance: "Right rein—haul the starboard yoke line; +gallop—full steam ahead; halt—cast anchor; +dismount—abandon ship," and so forth, giving his delicate and +fanciful sense of humour full play and evoking roars of laughter +from the whole house. It did not take MacTavish long to realise +that, no matter what he said, he would never again be taken +seriously in that place; he was, in fact, the world's stock joke, a +sailor on horseback (Ha, ha, ha!).</p> +<p>He set his jaw and was determined that he would not be caught +tripping again; there should be no more reminiscences. Once clear +of Ireland he would bury his past.</p> +<p>All this happened years ago.</p> +<p>When I came back from leave the other day I asked for Albert +Edward. "He and MacTavish are up at Corpse H.Q.," said the skipper; +"they're helping the A.P.M. straighten the traffic out. By the way +you 'd better trickle up there and relieve them, as they're both +going on leave in a day or so."</p> +<p>I trickled up to Corpse and eventually discovered Albert Edward +alone, practising the three-card trick with a view to a career +after the War. "You'll enjoy this Mess," said he, turning up "the +Lady" where he least expected her; "it's made up of Staff +eccentrics—Demobilizing, Delousing, Educational, Laundry and +Burial <i>wallahs</i>—all sorts, very interesting; you'll +learn how the other half lives and all that. Oh, that reminds me. +You know poor old MacTavish's secret, don't you?"</p> +<p>"Of course," said I; "everybody does. Why?"</p> +<p>Albert Edward grinned. "Because there's another bloke here with +a dark past, only this is t'other way about; he's a bumpkin turned +sailor, Blenkinsop by name, you know, the Shropshire hackney +breeders. He's Naval Division. Ever rub against those +merchants?"</p> +<p>I had not.</p> +<p>"Well, I have," Albert Edward went on. "They're wonders; pretend +they're in mid-ocean all the time, stuck in the mud on the +Beaucourt Ridge, gummed in the clay at Souchez—anywhere. They +'come aboard' a trench and call their records-office—a staid +and solid bourgeois dwelling in Havre—<i>H.M.S. Victory</i>. +If you were bleeding to death and asked for the First Aid Post they +wouldn't understand you; you've got to say 'Sick bay' or bleed on. +If you want a meal you've got to call the cook-house 'The galley,' +or starve.</p> +<p>"This <i>matelot</i> Blenkinsop has got it very badly. He +obtained all his sea experience at the Crystal Palace and has been +mud-pounding up and down France for three years, and yet here we +have him now pretending there's no such thing as dry land."</p> +<p>"Not an unnatural delusion," I remarked.</p> +<p>"Well," resumed Albert Edward, "across the table from him sits +our old MacTavish, lisping, 'What is the Atlantic? Is it a herb?' +I'll bet my soul they're in their billets at this moment, MacTavish +mugging up some stable-patter out of NAT GOULD, and Blenkinsop +imbibing a dose of ship-chatter from 'BARTIMEUS.' They'll come in +for food presently, MacTavish doing what he imagines to be a +'cavalry-roll,' tally-hoing at the top of his voice, and Blenkinsop +weaving his walk like the tough old sea-dog he isn't, ship a-hoying +and avasting for dear life."</p> +<p>"They're both going on leave with you to-morrow, aren't they?" I +asked.</p> +<p>Albert Edward nodded.</p> +<p>"Then their game is up," said I.</p> +<p>Albert Edward's brow crinkled. "I don't quite get you."</p> +<p>"My dear old fool," said I, "it's blowing great guns now. With +the leave-packet doing the unbusted broncho act for two hours on +end it shouldn't be very difficult to separate the sheep from the +goat, the true-blue sailor from the pea-green lubber, should it? +They may be able to bluff each other, but not the silvery Channel +in mid-winter."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>[pg +23]</span> +<p>Albert Edward slapped his knee and laughed aloud.</p> +<hr /> +<p>They all came back from England last night. I lost no time in +cornering Albert Edward.</p> +<p>"Well, everything worked just as I prophesied, didn't it?" said +I. "With the first buck the old boat gave Blenkinsop tottered to +the rail and—"</p> +<p>Albert Edward shook his head.</p> +<p>"No, he didn't. He ate a pound of morphia and lay in the Saloon +throughout sleeping like a little child."</p> +<p>"But MacTavish?" I stammered.</p> +<p>"Oh, MacTavish," said Albert Edward—"MacTavish took an +emetic."</p> +<p>PATLANDER.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/23.png"><img width="100%" src="images/23.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>RECONSTRUCTION SHOCKS.</h3> +<p><i>Pianist (accompanying celebrated prima donna at classical +concert after three years of sing-songs in Army huts)</i>. "NOW +THEN, BOYS! DROWN HER WELL IN THE CHORUS!"</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>Commercial Candour.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>"The post-war —— will be the one car from which the +owner with moderate ideas can obtain the minimum amount of genuine +pleasure and satisfaction."—<i>Advt. in Trade Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>From an account of a film-drama:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"Horrified at his pseudanimity she agrees to the +deception,"—<i>Provincial Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It sounds rather pusillonymous.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>MUSICAL GOSSIP.</h2> +<p>We are semi-officially informed on the best authority that the +undermentioned nominations—some of which have already been +accepted—to the thrones and chairs now vacant in various +parts of the world have been made and approved by the Allied +Governments.</p> +<p>Foremost among these is the nomination "by acclamation" of +RICHARD STRAUSS as King of the Cannibal Islands. It is understood +that the illustrious composer has already arrived and that a grand +congress of Anthropophagi with suitable festivities is in +contemplation.</p> +<p>Two nominations which have been the cause of great satisfaction +in diplomatic circle are those of Mr. MARK HAMBOURG to the Kingdom +of Palestine, and that of M. MOISEIWITCH to the throne of the +Solomon Islands. Jamborees of jubilation are already rife in the +latter locality.</p> +<p>Sir HENRY WOOD has been simultaneously approached from two +quarters. The leading citizens of Sonora have offered him the +Presidentship of that interesting State. At the same time an urgent +invitation has been sent to the eminent conductor offering him the +throne of the Empire of Percussia. Sir HENRY'S decision is awaitod +with feverish anxiety.</p> +<p>It is stated by the <i>Corriere della Sera</i> that Madame +MELBA, the Australian nightingale, has been chosen to preside over +the Jug-jugo-Slav Republic, while Madame CLARA BUTT has been +unanimously elected Empress of Patagonia.</p> +<p>Sir THOMAS BEECHAM'S selection from among the candidates for the +throne of New Guinea, is regarded as a foregone conclusion. The +famous violinist, Mr. ALBERT SAMMONS, has so far returned no final +answer to the offer of the Crown of Sordinia, but it is believed +that he cannot long remain mute to the touching appeal of the +signatories. A favourable answer is also expected from Mlle. Jelly +Aranyi, who has been nominated Queen of Guava.</p> +<p>On the other hand Sir EDWARD ELGAR, O.M., has steadfastly +declined the Tsardom of Bulgaria, even though it was proposed to +change the name of the country to Elgaria.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" id="page24"></a>[pg +24]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/24.png"><img width="100%" src="images/24.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>Milliner</i>. "HOW DOES MODOM LIKE THIS LITTLE BIRD OF +PARADISE MODEL? IT BECOMES MODOM VERY WELL."</p> +<p><i>Customer</i>. "YES, IT <i>IS</i> RATHER NICE, BUT +<i>(remembers her obligations as a mother)</i> HOW MANY +COUPONS?"</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>TO AN EGYPTIAN BOY.</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Child of the gorgeous East, whose ardent suns</p> +<p class="i2">Have kissed thy velvet skin to deeper lustre</p> +<p class="i4">And given thine almond eyes</p> +<p class="i4">A look more calm and wise</p> +<p class="i2">Than any we pale Westerners can muster,</p> +<p>Alas! my mean intelligence affords</p> +<p>No clue to grasp the meaning of the words</p> +<p class="i2">Which vehemently from thy larynx leap.</p> +<p>How is it that the liquid language runs?</p> +<p class="i2"> +"<i>Nai</i>—<i>soring</i>—<i>trîf</i>—<i>erwonbi</i>—<i> +aster</i>—<i>ferish</i>—<i>îp</i>."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>E'en so, methinks, did CLEOPATRA WOO</p> +<p class="i2">Her vanquished victor, couched on scented roses,</p> +<p class="i4">And PHARAOH from his throne</p> +<p class="i4">With more imperious tone</p> +<p class="i2">Addressed in some such terms rebellious MOSES;</p> +<p>And esoteric priests in Theban shrines,</p> +<p>Their ritual conned from hieroglyphic signs,</p> +<p class="i2">Thus muttered incantations dark and deep</p> +<p>To Isis and Osiris, Thoth and Shu:</p> +<p class="i2"> +"<i>Nai</i>—<i>soring</i>—<i>trîf</i>—<i>erwonbi</i>—<i> +aster</i>—<i>ferish</i>—<i>îp</i>."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In all my youthful studies why was this</p> +<p class="i2">Left out? What tutor shall I blame my folly on?</p> +<p class="i4">From Sekhet-Hetepu</p> +<p class="i4">Return to mortal view,</p> +<p class="i2">O shade of BRUGSCH or MARIETTE or CHAMPOLLION;</p> +<p>Expound the message latent in his speech</p> +<p>Or send a clearer medium, I beseech;</p> +<p class="i2">For lo! I listen till I almost weep</p> +<p>For anguish at the priceless gems I miss:</p> +<p class="i2"> +"<i>Nai</i>—<i>soring</i>—<i>trîf</i>—<i>erwonbi</i>—<i> +aster</i>—<i>ferish</i>—<i>îp</i>."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>To sundry greenish orbs arranged on trays—</p> +<p class="i2">Unripe, unluscious fruit—he draws +attention.</p> +<p class="i4">My mind, till now so dark,</p> +<p class="i4">Receives a sudden spark</p> +<p class="i2">That glows and flames to perfect comprehension;</p> +<p>And I, whom no Rosetta Stone assists,</p> +<p>Become the peer of Egyptologists,</p> +<p class="i2">From whom exotic tongues no secrets keep;</p> +<p>For this is what the alien blighter says:</p> +<p class="i2">"Nice orang'; three for one piastre; very cheap."</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Napoleon was crowned Emperor of the French on December 2nd, +1804, and abdicated in 1914. On December 2nd, 1918, the papers +announced the formal abdication of Wilhelm II. of +Germany."—<i>Kent Messenger</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>WILHELM probably wishes that he had chosen the same date for his +abdication as NAPOLEON.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When a dear little lady from Lancashire</p> +<p>Came to London to act as a bank cashier,</p> +<p class="i2">And asked, "Is it true</p> +<p class="i2">1 + 1 = 2?"</p> +<p>They thought they'd revert to a man cashier.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>[pg +25]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/25.png"><img width="100%" src="images/25.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>THE BABES IN THE WOOD.</h3> +THE OLD LIBERAL NURSERY (<i>moribund but sanguine</i>). "NO +MATTER—A TIME WILL COME!"</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>[pg +26]</span> +<h2>PARLIAMENTARY CASUALTIES.</h2> +<p>Dear Mr. Punch,—I am told that Mr. ASQUITH considers that +this has been a most unsatisfactory election. So do I. As you know, +the principal function of the House of Commons nowadays is to +provide amusing "copy" for the late editions of the evening papers +and to give the "sketch"-writers a chance of exercising their +pretty wits. As Mr. SPENCER LEIGH HUGHES once remarked in an +after-dinner speech to Mr. BALFOUR, "You, Sir, are our raw +material."</p> +<p>Now, what I complain of is that on the present occasion the +voters have entirely disregarded the needs of the journeymen of the +Press, and have ruthlessly deprived them of the greater part of +their raw material. Mr. HUGHES himself, I am glad to see, has been +spared, but he fortunately had not to undergo the hazards of a +contest. I tremble to think what his fate might have been if at the +last moment some stodgy statesman had been nominated to oppose +him.</p> +<p>Against humour, conscious or unconscious, the voters seem to +have solidly set their faces. It was bad enough that Mr. JOE +KING—who has probably helped to provide more deserving +journalists with a living than any other legislator who ever +lived—should have declined the contest. Question-time without +Mr. KING and his unerring nose for mare's-nests will be like +<i>Alice</i> without <i>The Mad Hatter</i>. It was bad, too, that +Sir HEDWORTH MEUX should have decided to interrupt the flow of that +eloquence which we were forbidden to call "breezy," and that Major +"Boadicea" HUNT, Mr. JOHN BURNS, Mr. TIM HEALY, and Mr. SWIFT +MACNEILL should have withdrawn from a scene in which they had +provided so much profitable entertainment for the gods in the Press +Gallery.</p> +<p>These losses made it all the more incumbent upon the electors to +see that the House should retain as much as possible of the remnant +of its comic relief. But what do we find? Why, that practically +every one of the gentlemen who made the journalist's life worth +living in the last Parliament has been cruelly turned down.</p> +<p>For much of this grief the Sinn Feiners are responsible. They +have easily accomplished what a few years ago six stalwart British +constables could scarcely do and have removed the gigantic Mr. +FLAVIN from his emerald bench. With him have gone nearly all his +comrades; and the once-powerful Nationalist party, which for nearly +forty years has been such an unfailing source of sparkling +paragraphs, is reduced to the number immortalised by WORDSWORTH'S +little maid.</p> +<p>Almost more distressing than the loss of individuals is the +breaking up of Parliamentary partnerships. What is the use of Mr. +HOUSTON being returned if he has no longer Sir LEO CHIOZZA MONEY to +heckle? Captain PRETYMAN-NEWMAN will doubtless continue to ask +questions about the shocking condition of his native country, but +without Mr. REDDY'S squeaking <i>obbligato</i>, "Why isn't the +honourable and gallant Member out at the Front?" they will lose +half their savour. He will be as dull as Io without her gad-fly. +Mr. "Boanerges" STANTON is happily still with us, but with no +pacifists to bellow at I fear that his vocal chords will +atrophy.</p> +<p>Then the famous Young Scots Trio, which has given us so many +attractive "turns," has been violently dissolved. Mr. PRINGLE, +whose ample supply of vitriolic invective was always at the service +of the PRIME MINISTER, has been left by an ungrateful constituency +at the bottom of the poll, and Mr. WATT has shared his fate. It is +true that Mr. HOGGE managed to save his bacon, but without the +support of <i>Harlequin</i> and <i>Pantaloon</i> I fear his +clowning will fail to draw.</p> +<p>With so many of the old puppets gone I feel very lonely, and can +only try to comfort myself with the hope that the new Parliament +may provide some adequate substitutes. After all, so vast a machine +must contain a few cranks.</p> +<p>Meantime I remain, Sir, with the highest respect,</p> +<p>YOUR PARLIAMENTARY CORRESPONDENT.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:65%;"><a href= +"images/26.png"><img width="100%" src="images/26.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>Boarder (firmly)</i>. "YOU MUST ALLOW ME ANOTHER KNOB OF +COAL, MISS SKIMPLE. MY NERVES WILL NO LONGER BEAR THE NOISE OF +THESE SNEEZING CRICKETS."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>THE BOOM IN ARCHITECTURE.</h2> +<p>Since that far-away period before the War, my architectural +nerve has become sadly debilitated; so when a card (bearing the +name of Carruthers) was brought to me the other morning I felt +quite unmanned.</p> +<p>"Some potential client," I observed inwardly, "who has heard of +the removal of the five-hundred pound limit and has bearded me +before I have had time to get the hang of T-square and compasses +again."</p> +<p>I liked the appearance of Mr. Carruthers, and his greeting had a +slight ring of flattery in it that was very soothing.</p> +<p>"You are Mr. Bellamy, the architect?" he said.</p> +<p>"I am," I replied; "at least I was before the War."</p> +<p>"And have a large practice?" he resumed.</p> +<p>"I certainly had a large practice formerly," I said. "With my +methods and experience one ought to acquire an extensive +<i>clientele</i>. I have been an architect, my dear sir, man and +boy for over forty years, and have always followed the +architectural fashions. In the late seventies, when little columns +of Aberdeen granite were the rage—you know the stuff, tastes +like marble and looks like brawn—I went in for them hot and +strong, and every building I touched turned to potted meat. Then +SHAW came along—BERNARD, was it? no, NORMAN—with his +red brick and gables, and I got so keen that I moved to Bedford +Park to catch the full flavour of it.</p> +<p>"Next, the Ingle-nooker's found in me a willing disciple. I +designed rows of houses, all roofs and no chimneys, or all chimneys +and no roofs, it didn't <span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id= +"page27"></a>[pg 27]</span> matter which so long as there was an +ingle-nook with a motto over it. Why, after a time I got so expert +that I simply designed an ingle-nook and the rest seemed to grow by +itself.</p> +<p>"Just as the War started I had broken out in another place and +was getting into my Italian loggia-pergola-and-sunk-garden stride, +and then came the five-hundred pound limit and busted the whole +show. In fact, when you called I was wondering whether to chuck the +business and go in for writing cinema plays."</p> +<p>"When I want a really fashionable house built for me," said +Carruthers, "I shall certainly come to you."</p> +<p>"Ah," I said, "you have come to see me then on behalf of a +friend?"</p> +<p>"On behalf," he said, "of several friends."</p> +<p>My chest swelled visibly. "This man," I said to myself, while +reaching for my Corona Coronas, "is planning a garden city, or at +least a group of houses on the communal plan."</p> +<p>"The fact is," said Carruthers, clearing his throat, "I am a +scout-master, and my troop are collecting wastepaper, and I expect +you have any amount of old plans and things that you—"</p> +<p>I was just in time to save the cigar.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/27.png"><img width="100%" src="images/27.png" alt="" /></a> +<p>"I HEAR YOUR HUSBAND IS HOME FROM FRANCE. IS THE ARMY GOING TO +RELEASE HIM?"</p> +<p>"WELL, 'E'S GOT A FORTNIGHT BEFORE HE GOES BACK, BUT BY THAT +TIME 'E 'OPES TO BE DEMORALISED."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>FRUITS OF VICTORY.</h2> +<blockquote class="note"> +<p>["Unlimited lard may now be purchased without +coupon."—<i>Daily Paper</i>.]</p> +</blockquote> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Swiftly the shadow of William the Hun</p> +<p>Fades from the fields that our valour has won;</p> +<p>Totter the thrones of our many Controllers,</p> +<p>Freedom is coming to man and his molars:</p> +<p>Doomed is the coupon and doomed is the card,</p> +<p>With all the embargos that hit us so hard;</p> +<p>Now we may purchase unlimited lard.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Soon will the mud-spattered soldier be free;</p> +<p>Soon will the sailor be home from the sea:</p> +<p>Victory beams on the banners of Right,</p> +<p>This is the time to be merry and bright;</p> +<p>Stilled is the riot of shot and of shard</p> +<p>And (what a boon to the heart of the bard!)</p> +<p>Now we may purchase unlimited lard.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Shout for the joy of it, waving your hats;</p> +<p>Where there are puttees will shortly be spats;</p> +<p>Never again will we form on the right,</p> +<p>Squad or platoon, for a sergeant's delight;</p> +<p>So let our faces, by discipline marred,</p> +<p>Shine with an unction that savours of nard,</p> +<p>Now we may purchase unlimited lard.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>Big Bertha Outranged.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>"Two Russian battleships and some cruisers set out from +Cronstadt to meet the British warships in the Baltic, and were +fired on from the Flemish coast."—<i>Yorkshire Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"After four incessant years across Dora's knee the peace New +Year ought surely to hold something good in its kindly lap for +well-strafed automobilists."—<i>Sketch</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But after four years across Dora's knee the New Year is probably +not thinking about its lap, but quite the reverse.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"The announcement of a ball in Brussels gave plenty of scope for +imaginative scribes to quote, in some cases almost correctly, the +lines about 'there was a scene of revelry by night.'"—"<i>Mr. +Gossip</i>" in "<i>The Daily Sketch</i>."</p> +</blockquote> +<p>"MR. GOSSIP," too, quotes "almost correctly."</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>It is hoped that if M. PADEREWSKI becomes President of the new +Polish Republic he will experience the truth of the old proverb, +<i>Chi va piano va sano.</i></p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>[pg +28]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/28.png"><img width="100%" src="images/28.png" alt= +"" /></a><i>British Officer (Army of occupation)</i>. "LOOK OUT, +OLD BEAN! WE'RE GETTING THE GLAD EYE."</div> +<hr /> +<h2>THE ARMY OF ENTERTAINMENT, LTD.</h2> +<p>As a mere soldier threatened with unemployment owing to the +sudden outbreak of peace, I offer to any enterprising +company-promoter an idea which should provide him with an immense +fortune and myself with a congenial means of livelihood.</p> +<p>My suggestion is that, with the consent of Lord NORTHCLIFFE and +the Allies, a slice of the old Front should be kept up <i>in statu +quo</i>, and a representative assortment of troops retained to hold +it on what was our side, and to carry on the War as it was in the +good old days of '15, when we thought our life's work was bespoken +and soldiers with boy babies raised the question of making acting +rank hereditary. No enemy would be employed, experiment having +proved that the existence of an enemy detracts from the enjoyment +of modern war.</p> +<p>The little army, commanded by a General, himself an +employé of the Army of Entertainment Co., Ltd., would +conduct operations for demonstration purposes. Visitors would be +charged admission to the Company's zone, and pay extra for any +particular stunt show arranged for their benefit.</p> +<p>It would be necessary to acquire a strip of country running +right back to the coast, if realism should be the aim of the +directors, otherwise it would be impossible, to show an A.M.L.O. in +action, or some interesting types of Headquarters, or laundry +Colonels winning the D.S.O.</p> +<p>I have in mind a highly entertaining General who might be +willing to accept the position of G.O.C. for the Company—one +of those desperate old gentlemen whose joy was to stalk about busy +areas and strafe the domestic and sanitary arrangements of +batteries and battalions. He is of picturesque appearance and would +afford the best comic relief. This General would be attended by the +usual assistants, traditionally housed, clothed and fed, but, the +division being run as a commercial venture, it would be a matter +for consideration by the directors whether these young gentlemen +should receive a salary or pay a fee.</p> +<p>Some visitors might well be so delighted with soldiering, free +from the annoyance of enemy action, that they would wish to make a +long stay and experience all its variations, beginning perhaps with +the P.B.I, (or Pretty Busy Infantry) in a mud-hole in the front +line, and passing through all the stages of the normal military +career till they arrived at the Divisional Chateau. Should anyone +desire to survey life from the altitude of an R.T.O. (Railway +Transport, not Really Tantalising Officer, as supposed by some) it +might be arranged for him, in the interests of realism, to +improvise information as to trains for the benefit of other +visitors.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>[pg +29]</span> +<p>Appropriate rations would be included, in the entrance money, +while there might be canteens for the sale of such extras as +bootlaces and penholders. Visitors would not be allowed to bring +money into the area, but would be given the usual books of cash +withdrawal forms, entitling them to obtain small sums from the +field cashier—if they could find him. As a field cashier of +experience would be employed and possibly act in collusion with the +R.T.O., these sums of money might be regarded as prizes, and would +create a pleasant excitement without amounting to any great expense +for the Company.</p> +<p>Those willing to pay high prices would have arranged for them +such displays as "normal artillery activity," pukka strafes, S.O.S. +bombardments or barrages chaperoning infantry advances, while +balloons might be set on fire, dumps blown up, or leave cancelled +at special rates. There might also be an assortment of inexpensive +and amusing side-shows, such as a Second-in-command trying to check +a monthly return of dripping, or a conscientious gunner calculating +the correct corrector corrections.</p> +<p>Should an application be received from any person anxious to +experience war from the "Receipts" end he would be granted free +entry to the area on the far side of the line, protected +grand-stands being erected, from which, on suitable payment, +spectators could study his deportment. A short stay in the "enemy's +area" during a strafe might be recommended for politicians and +arranged by their constituents.</p> +<p>Space forbids further detail. It remains only for a Company to +be formed—affiliated perhaps to the Bureau of +Information—a detailed prospectus issued and applications +invited for posts under the Army of Entertainment, Ltd.</p> +<p>I shall myself be willing to serve the Company in the capacity +of a Town Major on condition that a suitable town is provided.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:65%;"><a href= +"images/29.png"><img width="100%" src="images/29.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>FOREWARNED.</h3> +<p><i>Poor Old Woman (to youth, who has given her a gratuity and +relieved her of her load of wood)</i>. "I PRESUME, MY KIND YOUNG +FRIEND, THAT YOU ARE THE YOUNGEST OF THE THREE BROTHERS WHO ARE +GOING OUT TO SEEK THEIR FORTUNES?"</p> +<p><i>Clever Youth</i>. "NO, I'M THE ELDEST. BUT I'VE BEEN READING +THE STORIES."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>WISE WORDS FOR BIRDS.</h2> +<p>Dear Mr. Punch,—While lately turning over some old family +papers I came across a number of maxims in rhyme which seem to me +to be worthy of publication at a time devoted to good cheer. The +form appears to be the same as that expressed in the familiar +couplets on the woodcock and the partridge; but these variations on +an old theme have at least the merit of freshness and +originality.</p> +<p>I begin in order of magnitude with the ostrich:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"If an ostrich had but a woodcock's thigh</p> +<p>It would only be some three feet high.</p> +<p>If a woodcock had but an ostrich's jaw</p> +<p>It would have to be carved with a circular saw."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>The foregoing lines clearly enforce the important lesson of +contentment with the existing order. This moral is perhaps less +implicit in the lines on the peacock:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"If a peacock had but the nightingale's trill</p> +<p>It would make all prima donnas feel ill.</p> +<p>If the nightingale had but the peacock's tail</p> +<p>It would merit a headline in the <i>Mail</i>."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Contentment again is the keynote of the couplets on the +owl:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"If an owl would enter the nuthatch's nest</p> +<p>Its figure would have to be much compressed.</p> +<p>If the nuthatch had but the face of an owl</p> +<p>It would be a most unpopular fowl."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>A slightly different formula is to be noted in the lines on the +snipe, but the spirit is substantially the same:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"If a snipe were the size of a threepenny bit</p> +<p>It would be a great deal harder to hit.</p> +<p>But if it grew to the size of an emu</p> +<p>It wouldn't be better to eat than seamew."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Lastly I may quote the only couplet in which beasts as well as +birds are subjected to this searching analysis. I think you will +admit that it is the most sagacious and impressive of them +all:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"If a pig had wings and the legs of a stork</p> +<p>It would damage the quality of its pork,"</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Thine, MCDOUGALL POTT.</p> +<p><i>Poets' Corner House, Dottyville.</i></p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"As a result of trying to find an escape of gas with a light, a +flat in Westminster was seriously damaged."—<i>Provincial +Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Serve him right.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>[pg +30]</span> +<h2>REPORTS.</h2> +<p>The other day I was looking through some school reports. +Holidays always bring them forth. You know the kind of thing: +History—Is most diligent but needs concentration; +Music—Lacks purposefulness, does not practise sufficiently; +Mathematics—Weak; General Conduct—Might be better; +Conversational French—<i>Sera plus facile avec plus de +confiance</i>; Theology—A sad falling off; and so on; and it +occurred to me that it might not be a bad thing if the report +system, instead of stopping with our school-days, pursued us +through life. The periodical perusal of a report, drawn up with as +much authority as a scholastic staff possesses, might have very +beneficial results.</p> +<p>My own early ones no longer exist; but it would be a very +searching test of our educational system to study these reports +thirty-five years after and subject them to an honest commentary. +How little that one learned then has persisted, has survived the +probation of time and necessity. At the age of fifteen I knew the +principal rivers of South America ("Geography—Has made great +progress"); to-day at fifty I have no recollection of any, nor any +desire to have it. Instead I can order dinner. Gastronomy for +geography; new lamps for old! In any report drawn up now there +would be a totally different series of subjects. Thus:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Business Method Might be better.</i></p> +<p><i>Punctuality Tries his best.</i></p> +<p><i>Patriotism Good.</i></p> +<p><i>Veracity Moderate.</i></p> +<p><i>Financial Soundness Very variable.</i></p> +</div> +</div> +<p>As a means of constructive criticism the report system might be +useful in Parliament. The Speaker, as headmaster, should be +entrusted with the task of preparing the documents. I can see some +such results as the following:—</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>THE PRIME MINISTER.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Logic Weak.</i></p> +<p><i>Opportunism Strong.</i></p> +<p><i>Golf Shows little improvement.</i></p> +<p><i>Belligerence Very good.</i></p> +<p><i>Tonsorial Artistry Far from satisfactory. Should give +it</i></p> +<p class="i10"><i>more attention.</i></p> +<p><i>Oratory Fluent and powerful, but must guard</i></p> +<p class="i10"><i>against impulse. Too fond in perorations</i></p> +<p class="i10"><i>of drawing metaphors from Welsh</i></p> +<p class="i10"><i>physical geography.</i></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>MR. BONAR LAW.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Mediation Admirable, but must not be overworked.</i></p> +<p><i>Oratory Fair. Has tendency to unnecessary candour.</i></p> +<p class="i10"><i>Does not sufficiently employ periphrasis.</i></p> +<p><i>Fidelity Beyond praise.</i></p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>MR. WINSTON CHURCHILL.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Oratory Effective, if given enough time to prepare.</i></p> +<p><i>Modesty Room for improvement.</i></p> +<p><i>Polarity Weak.</i></p> +<p><i>Ambition An honest worker.</i></p> +</div> +</div> +<p>Lastly, let us take the report sheet of one not wholly absent +from the public eye, whom I will designate merely by the initials +W.W.</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Pride Far less than he had two or three years ago.</i></p> +<p><i>Facial beauty More than adequate.</i></p> +<p><i>Subrisivity Phenomenal.</i></p> +<p><i>Oratory Admirable, but too fond of telling the</i></p> +<p class="i10"><i>same story.</i></p> +<p><i>Popularity Could not be greater.</i></p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>HAIR-CUTTING AND DENTISTRY.</h2> +<p>I am going to get my hair cut. But I must first mention the +matter to my wife.</p> +<p>Why do I do this? It is not because I am a coward, for there are +few men who are in reality braver than I am. I carried my firstborn +in my arms round the drawing-room when she was a week old, and I +have done other things equally brave, the enumeration of which I +spare you. But I could no more think of getting my hair cut without +previously informing my wife than I could think of wearing a top +hat in the Strand.</p> +<p>I know what will happen when I have told my wife. She will look +up and say, "That's right; you always do it."</p> +<p>And I shall say, "What do I always do?"</p> +<p>And she will answer, "You always get yourself cropped like a +convict just when your hair was beginning to look nice."</p> +<p>And I shall say, "I can't help that; it's got to be done." And +then I shall go and get it done.</p> +<p>But I wonder if my wife is right after all. There used to be a +nice wave in my front hair, a wave into which you could lay two +fingers. Is that there still? No, it's gone. In fact there is not +sufficient front hair to make a wave with. It's odd how gradually +these things happen. I could have sworn that I had that wave, and +there is a photograph of me in the drawing-room with a +fully-developed tidal bore; and I went on brushing my front hair +and combing it and thinking of it all the time as constituting a +wave, and lo it had vanished, leaving me under the impression that +it was still there and accountable for the pleasing effect I +produced in general society.</p> +<p>But if it wasn't the wave that produced this effect, what could +it have been? My voice? Perhaps. My moustache? I doubt it. My +teeth? Possibly. See advertisements of tooth powders <i>passim</i>. +You know how it's done, in the before and after style. Before you +use Dentoline you apparently do not possess so much as a front +tooth. After you have used it once you are in possession of +thirty-two regular and brilliant white teeth, and it seems plain +that no dentist will ever make his fortune out of your mouth. All +this, however, has nothing to do with getting my hair cut. But it +brings me to an analogous consideration. When I tell my wife I am +going to get my teeth attended to, does she try to restrain me from +the fatal deed? Not she. She urges me to it, and leaves me no +loophole for escape. She indulges in reminiscences of herself and +the children defying pain in the dentist's chair, and heartens me +with the statement that the instrument she likes best is the one +that goes <i>berr-r-r-r</i> and makes you jump.</p> +<p>Let me now resume my commentary on hair-cutting. I wonder if I +am sufficiently chatty with my hair-cutter. Most men talk to their +hair-cutter all the time. They discuss politics and revolutions and +Britain's unconquerable might, while I, having made a blundering +start with the weather, am brought up with a round turn on the +Bolsheviks and President WILSON'S manner of dealing with the +situation. I cannot lay bare my inmost thoughts about the League of +Nations while someone is running a miniature mowing-machine along +the back of my neck ...</p> +<p>At this moment my wife entered the room.</p> +<p>"My dear," I said, "I am going to get my hair cut."</p> +<p>She gave me one mind-piercing look and said, "It's time you did. +I've been noticing it for the last day or two."</p> +<p>Nothing, you see, about convicts. Isn't that like a woman, never +to say the thing you expect her to say? It's taken all the pleasure +out of my visit to the barber. In fact I don't think I shall go at +all.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>[pg +31]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/31.png"><img width="100%" src="images/31.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>THE ENFRANCHISEMENT OF WOMAN.</h3> +<p><i>First Voter</i>. "SO MR. JONES HAS BEEN ELECTED. YOU VOTED +FOR HIM, OF COURSE?"</p> +<p><i>Second Voter</i>. "NO, I VOTED FOR THE OTHER MAN. YOU SEE, +MR. JONES SUPPORTED WOMAN'S SUFFRAGE, WHICH I ABHOR."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> +<h4><i>(By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerics.)</i></h4> +<p><i>Secrets of the Bosphorus</i> (HUTCHINSON) is one of the +happily large number of books to which time and tardy-footed +justice have now added an unwritten chapter that makes amends for +all. But for the glories of the last few months I think I could +hardly have borne to read many of these "revelations" of Mr. HENRY +MORGENTHAU, sometime American Ambassador to Turkey. They make +strange and often tragic reading. One of them is already famous: +the disclosure of the narrow margin by which the attack of the +Allied fleets upon the Dardanelles came short of victory. For that, +with all its ghastly sequence of misadventure, no happy end can +quite compensate. But one may read more pleasantly now of the +Prussian Baron WANGENHEIM, sitting the day long on a bench before +his official residence to exult publicly in what looked like the +triumphal march to Paris. Mr. MORGENTHAU has many other matters of +interest in his note-book, a large part of which is occupied by the +story, almost incredible even in an age of horrors, of the planned +slaughter by the Turkish rulers, with Germany as accessory before +and after the act, of "at least 600,000 and perhaps as many as +1,000,000" Armenians. He rightly calls this murder of a nation +probably the blackest deed in all the foul record of the war, in +which (at the precise moment of its execution) the same people who +now protest against the severity of our terms were taking a +horrible and ruthless joy. The reminder is apt.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Much of the pleasure that I have just enjoyed over Mr. ARTHUR +SYMONS' essays of travel in <i>Cities and Sea Coasts and +Islands</i> (COLLINS) belongs to the wistful joy of recollection: +remembered loveliness in the beautiful places of which he writes so +vividly, remembered peace of the quiet unpreoccupied days in which +they were written. The book is made up of three groups, studies of +Spain, of London and of certain coasts, chiefly Cornish. For +several reasons I found the last interested me most. There is +entertainment in watching Mr. SYMONS, so essentially a dweller in +cities, discovering the open air like an explorer. You know already +his mastery of delicate and sensitive words; many of these pages +catch with exquisite skill the subtle charm of the country between +land and wave, as it would present itself to a receptive summer +visitor rather than the returned native. Mr. SYMONS' similes are +essentially urban; the sea (to take an example at random) has for +him "something of the colour of absinthe." In fine, though he can +and does get into his pages much of the exhilaration of a tramp +over heathery cliffs "smelling of honey and sea wind," one retains +throughout a not unpleasing consciousness of Paddington. I have +left myself too little space to deal adequately with other papers, +among which I was delighted to find again that called "Dieppe +1895," long remembered from <i>The Savoy</i> <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="page32" id="page32"></a>[pg 32]</span> (though +here, of course, lacking the interpretation of the BEARDSLEY +drawings). Certainly a book to read at leisure and to keep "for +further reference," perhaps in a future when travel studies may +again become of more than merely sentimental interest.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Sir ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE, on the strength of <i>Danger! and Other +Stories</i> (MURRAY), may claim a place among the prophets who were +not accepted by their own country. "Danger!"—written some +eighteen months before the outbreak of war—foretells the +horrors of the unrestricted use of the submarine. In those days Sir +ARTHUR could get no one to listen to him, because "in some +unfortunate way subjects of national welfare are in this country +continually subordinated to party politics." Possibly now that we +have been taught by painful experience all we want to know about +U-boat warfare, excitement in this tale is rather to seek, but it +remains a most successful prophecy. In the last story of the book +we have the author in his very worst form. "Three of Them" is a +study of children, and the only excuse I can find for it is that it +must be intended as a sop to the sentimentalists. Of the others my +first vote goes to "The Surgeon of Gaster Fell," and my second to +"The Prisoner's' Defence;" but if you are susceptible to Sir +ARTHUR'S sense of fun I can also recommend "The Fall of Lord +Barrymore" and "One Crowded Hour." Not a great collection, but just +good enough.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Mr. ROMER WILSON has devoted the nearly three hundred pages of +his <i>Martin Schuler</i> (METHUEN) to describing what it feels +like to be a genius, and, speaking from a very limited knowledge of +this class, I should say that he had mapped the mind of a genius of +a certain sort very well. His estimate of the creative artist's +anguish of emptiness rings true, and will, perhaps surprise the +people who think that his lot, like a policeman's, is a very happy +one. His <i>Martin</i>, who struck me as a very unpleasant young +man, was a composer who meant to achieve immortality, but turned +down the broad way of musical comedy and acquired money instead. +Just in time he repented and wrote a grand opera, and then Mr. +WILSON cut short his career in a fashion that seemed to me +regrettably hackneyed, which was the only reason why I shared the +other characters' sorrow. Why so many people, all rather nasty +people too, came to devote themselves to <i>Martin</i> I could not +discover, although I had the publisher's word for it that he was +"attractive"; but perhaps his genius accounted for it. Probably it +is my duty to declare here that <i>Martin</i> and his friends were +almost all made in Germany before the War, but as they are +exceptionally disagreeable and quite unlikely to inspire anyone +with an unjust tenderness for their nation I have no hesitation in +recommending the book as a clever study of temperament and a just +picture of a part of the German musical world as it was when one +last knew anything about it.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>It is all a matter of taste, of course, but personally I don't +envy Mr. J.G. LEGGE his self-imposed task of convicting the Hun out +of his own mouth of—well, of being a Hun. Germans they were +and Germans they remain, and the author goes to great lengths, even +to the length of 572 pages, to show that their peculiar qualities +date back at least as far as 1813. His <i>Rhyme and Revolution in +Germany</i> (CONSTABLE) is not so much a history of the scrambling +undignified revolutionary movements culminating in the year 1848, +as a collection of contemporary comment thereon, in prose and +verse. The prose is generally bad; the verse is generally very bad; +and one turns with relief to the author's connecting links, wishing +only at times that he would not worry about proving his point quite +so thoroughly. The bombast and the bullying, the self-pity and the +cruelty, and, most of all, the instinctive claim, typical of +Germany to-day, to prescribe one law for themselves but something +quite different for the rest of the world, run through all these +quotations, even the earliest. But the particular value of this +book at the moment is its reminder that twice already has the House +of Hohenzollern humbly pledged its All-Highest word to give +constitutional government, only to resume "divine right" at the +earliest convenient moment. Ruling Germany, and as much else as +possible, with a view to the glorification of one's personal family +and one's personal God, must be an exhausting labour, and once +again the head of the dynasty is afforded an opportunity for a +respite. It is a temptation which one feels sure he will find +himself strong enough to resist if occasion serves. History and Mr. +LEGGE suggest that he will be willing—even +enthusiastic—to grovel in the dust to assist that +occasion.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Mr. SPENCER LEIGH HUGHES is a brilliant and distinguished member +of the great brotherhood of the Press; he is also a Member of +Parliament and has devoted himself heart and soul to the +propagation of his principles on the platform. He has therefore, +save in respect of great age (he is barely sixty), every right to +compile and publish a book with the title, <i>Press, Platform and +Parliament</i> (NISBET). It is one of the most genuinely +good-tempered books I have ever read; but that was to be expected +from the author of the column signed "<i>Sub Rosa</i>," who had in +this course of desultory writing made innumerable friends and never +lost one; and, more pleasing sport than that, had brought two +people together through a matrimonial agency conducted by W.T. +STEAD, and had met the pair many years after, to find that they +were perfectly and unexpectedly happy.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:65%;"><a href= +"images/32.png"><img width="100%" src="images/32.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>Dealer (trying to sell horse to Government Buyer)</i>. "THAT +'ORSE, SIR, 'AS GONE A MILE IN A GOOD DEAL LESS THAN THREE +MINUTES."</p> +<p><i>Government Buyer</i>. "ON WHAT RAILWAY?"</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"ALL BOOKS</p> +<p>"noticed in the Editorial pages of +'——&——' (see Book Reviews), or listed +in its advertising columns, may be obtained post free from the +offices, at the marked prices, plus postage."—<i>Trade +Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We felt sure there was a catch somewhere.</p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 156, JAN. 8, 1919***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 11133-h.txt or 11133-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/1/3/11133">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/1/3/11133</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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