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diff --git a/11429-h/11429-h.htm b/11429-h/11429-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c2a6638 --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/11429-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1802 @@ +<!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, April 30, 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 11429 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 156, +April 30, 1919, by Various, Edited by Owen Seamen</h1> +<br /> +<br /> +<center><b>E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, Carla Kruger,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</b></center> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr class="full" /> +<br /> +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> +<h2>Vol. 156.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>April 30, 1919.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page333" id="page333"></a>[pg +333]</span> +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> +<p>An alarming rumour is going the rounds to the effect that +Printing House Square refuses to accept any responsibility for the +findings of the Peace Conference.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Mystery," says a news item, "surrounds the purchase of fifty +retail fish shops in and about London." The Athenaeum Club is full +of the wildest rumours.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The statement of the Allied Food Commission, that there are more +sheep in Germany to-day than in 1914, has come as a surprise to +those who imagined that the loud bleating noise was chiefly Herr +SCHEIDEMANN.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Get your muzzle now!" says <i>The Daily Mail</i>. It is felt, +however, that the PRIME MINISTER scored a distinct hit by saying it +first.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"There is absolutely no reason," says a Health Culture writer, +"why Members of Parliament should not live to be one hundred." We +think we could find a reason if we were pressed.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>To-morrow a man in the North of England is to celebrate his +hundredth birthday. He will be the youngest centenarian in the +country.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>At Ealing it appears that a rabid dog dashed into a pork +butcher's shop and snapped at a sausage. The sausage was +immediately shot.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The War Office, says a contemporary, is to have another storey +built. In order that the work shall not cause any sleepless days it +is to be undertaken by night.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>It is reported that a burglar who has been drawing unemployment +pay has decided to return to work.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The New Zealand Government has decided to check the introduction +of influenza, and every passenger arriving there is to be examined. +All germs not declared are liable to be confiscated by the +Customs.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Nearly all the Bank Holiday visitors to Hampstead Heath, it is +stated, chose a silver-mounted bridge-marker in preference to +nuts.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Two days before his wedding a man at Uxbridge was summoned to +Wales by his wife for desertion. It is said that his second wedding +went off quietly.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>It is understood that the Home Office does not propose to +re-arrest DE VALERA. The official view is that in future the Irish +must provide their own entertainment.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>We hear that all imprisoned Sinn Feiners have been instructed to +give a day's notice in future before escaping, so that nobody shall +do it out of his proper turn.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Citizens of Clarkson, Washington, U.S.A., have appealed to the +Government to protect them against a plague of frogs. The Federal +authorities have informed the Press that these insidious attempts +to distract the Government from its Prohibition programme must not +be taken seriously.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>From an American newspaper we gather that a New York plutocrat +has by his will cut his wife off with twelve million dollars.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Is the Kaiser Highly Strung?" asks a weekly paper headline. We +shall be able to answer this question a little later.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The report that an early bather was seen executing the +Jazz-dance on the beach at Ventnor on Easter Monday seems to have +some foundation. It appears that his partner was a large crab with +well-developed claws.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>We hear that visitors at a well-known London hotel, who have +patiently borne the extension of the gratuity nuisance for a +considerable time, now take exception to the notice, "Please tip +the basin," which has been prominently placed in the lavatory.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>On many golf-links nowadays the caddies are expected to keep +count of the number of strokes taken for each hole. One beginner +whom we know is seriously thinking of employing a chartered +accountant for this purpose.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>What cricket needs, says a sporting contemporary, is bright +breezy batting. The game should no longer depend for its sparkle on +impromptu badinage between the umpire and the wicket-keeper.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>People who think they have heard the cuckoo before the first of +May, declares a well-known ornithologist, are usually the victims +of young practical jokers. The conspicuous barring of the bird's +plumage should, however, make any real confusion impossible.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/333.png"><img width="100%" src="images/333.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p>ABSENT-MINDED PHYSICIAN SENT BY HIS WIFE TO BUY "TWO GOOD SOUND +BIRDS".</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Striking testimony as to the popularity of the Cataract Cliff +Grounds—when it is remembered that the period embraces the +complete term of the war—is the fact that during the past +five years an aggregate of 428,390 persons was bitten by a +snake."</p> +<p><i>Tasmanian Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>The snake may be fairly said to have done his bit.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page334" id="page334"></a>[pg +334]</span> +<h2>PEACE AT THE SEASIDE.</h2> +<blockquote class="note"> +<p>[The public are being passionately warned against the threatened +crush at watering-places in August of this year of Peace.]</p> +</blockquote> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Stoutly we bore with April's icy blizzards;</p> +<p class="i2">"The worst of Spring," we said, "will soon be +through;</p> +<p>Summer is bound to come and warm our gizzards</p> +<p class="i2">And we shall gambol by the briny blue."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But even as we put the annual question,</p> +<p class="i2">"Where shall we water? on what golden strand?"</p> +<p>Warnings appear of terrible congestion,</p> +<p class="i2">Of lodgers countless as the local sand.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Lucky the man, the hardened strap-suspender,</p> +<p class="i2">Who with a first-class ticket, there and back,</p> +<p>Finds a precarious seat upon the tender,</p> +<p class="i2">A rocky berth upon the baggage-rack.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Should he arrive, the breath of life still in him,</p> +<p class="i2">His face will be repulsed from door to door;</p> +<p>He'll get no lodging, not the very minim,</p> +<p class="i2">Save under heaven on the pebbly shore.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In vain he pleads for stall-room in the stable;</p> +<p class="i2">The cellars are engaged; 'tis idle talk</p> +<p>To ask for bedding on the billiard-table—</p> +<p class="i2">Two families are there, each side of baulk.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Next morn he fain would wash in ocean's spray (there's</p> +<p class="i2">Balm in the waves that helps you to forget),</p> +<p>And lo! the deep is simply stiff with bathers;</p> +<p class="i2">He has no chance of even getting wet.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He starves as never in the age of rations;</p> +<p class="i2">The fishy produce of the boundless sea</p> +<p>Fails to appease the hungry trippers' passions</p> +<p class="i2">Who barely pouch one shrimp apiece for tea.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"I came," he says, "to swallow priceless ozone</p> +<p class="i2">Under Britannia's elemental spell;</p> +<p>She rules the waves, as all her conquered foes own;</p> +<p class="i2">I wish she ruled her seasides half as well.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"I don't know what the beaten Bosch may suffer</p> +<p class="i2">Compared with us who won the late dispute,</p> +<p>But if it equals this (it can't be tougher),</p> +<p class="i2">Why, then I feel some pity for the brute."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So by the London train upon the morrow</p> +<p class="i2">From holiday delights he gets release,</p> +<p>Conspuing, more in anger than in sorrow,</p> +<p class="i2">The pestilent amenities of Peace.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>O.S.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>GREAT BEARD MYSTERY.</h2> +<p>Where do men go when, they want to grow beards? This is a +question as yet unanswered, and the whole subject is shrouded in +impenetrable mystery.</p> +<p>One sees thousands of men with beards, but one never sees anyone +growing a beard. I cannot recall, in a life of varied travel, +having ever encountered a man actually engaged in the process of +beard-cultivation. The secret is well kept, doubtless by a kind of +freemasonry amongst bearded men, but there can be little doubt that +somewhere there are nurseries where a <i>bonâ-fide</i> +beard-grower who is in the secret can retire until he is +presentable.</p> +<p>I have frequently been annoyed by the way in which these men +flaunt their beards at one; their whole manner seems to convey an +air of superiority; they seem to say, "Look at my beard. You can't +grow a beard because you haven't the moral courage to appear in +public while it's growing. Wouldn't you like to know the secret? +Well, I won't tell you."</p> +<p>Determined to suffer these contemptuous glances no longer, I set +out on a voyage of discovery to unravel the mystery of England's +beard-nurseries.</p> +<p>I asked bearded men if they knew of anywhere in the country +where one could slip away in order to grow a beard, but they always +gave me evasive replies, such as: "Why not have an illness and stay +in bed for three months?" But when I went on to ask where they had +grown theirs, they either made an excuse to leave me or said +evasively, "Oh, I've always had mine."</p> +<p>I once went to the enormous expense of making a bearded Scotch +acquaintance intoxicated in order to drag the secret from him, but +the question as to where he grew his beard instantly sobered him, +and nothing would induce him to touch another drop.</p> +<p>I have bribed barbers without success. I have vainly shadowed +men for a month who looked as if they intended growing beards. I +even took advantage of Armageddon to join the Navy, where beards +are permitted; but when I tried to start growing one I was +instantly reprimanded for not shaving by a bearded Commander, who +had the same triumphant gleam of superiority which I had noticed +ashore.</p> +<p>In the Old Testament there was no secrecy on the subject. +Somebody said, "Tarry in Jericho until your beards be grown." But I +am quite satisfied in my own mind that modern beard-growers do not +go to Jericho; I have established this fact. No, there are in +England properly organised beard-nurseries, and the secret of their +whereabouts is jealously guarded; but I have by no means relaxed my +determination to discover them, and to give to the world the +results of my research.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>GRAND REFUSALS.</h2> +<p>At the private reception the night before Miss CARNEGIE'S +wedding, "the ironmaster," so we read in our <i>Daily Mail</i>, +"entertained his guests with numerous reminiscences of his life, +and it was observed that he interrupted a story concerning King +EDWARD and Skibo to whisper something in his daughter's ear +concerning her dowry. He was telling the guests how the King +offered to make him a Duke if he would bring about a coalition +between England and the United States. 'I told King EDWARD,' said +Mr. CARNEGIE, 'that in these United States every man is King. Why +should I be a Duke?'"</p> +<p>It is pleasant to read of the heroic refusal of the staunch +Republican to compromise the principles which he so eloquently +vindicated in his <i>Triumphant Democracy</i>; but it is only right +to add that this is not an isolated case.</p> +<p>Thus it is a literally open secret that when a famous +ventriloquist was offered the O.B.E. for his services in +popularising the Navy, he refused the coveted distinction on the +ground that it would be derogatory to a Prince to accept it.</p> +<p>When Sir HENRY DUKE retired from the Chief Secretaryship of +Ireland he was offered a Viscounty, but declined the proffered +distinction, wittily observing that as he was born a Duke he did +not see why he should descend to a lower grade of the peerage.</p> +<p>Then there is the notorious case of Mr. KING who, on being +offered a peerage if he would desist from his criticisms of Mr. +LLOYD GEORGE and his Ministry, pointed out that other monarchs +might abdicate, but that those who thought <i>he</i> would do so +clearly knew not JOSEPH.</p> +<p>As for the titles, decorations and distinctions offered by the +EX-KAISER to Mr. HAROLD BEGBIE if he would bring about a +<i>rapprochement</i> between England and Germany, and patriotically +declined by the eminent publicist, their name is legion.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page335" id="page335"></a>[pg +335]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/335.png"><img width="100%" src="images/335.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>THE MENACE OF MAY.</h3> +<p>AUSTEN CHAMBERMAID <i>(to John Bull).</i> "YOUR TEA AND THE +MORNING PAPER, SIR."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page336" id="page336"></a>[pg +336]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/336.png"><img width="100%" src="images/336.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Charlady (on the subject of appearance).</i> "OF COURSE I +DON'T BOTHER NOW—BUT I USED TO BE ABLE TO TREAD ON MY +'AIR."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>CIVILIAN FLYING, 1930.</h2> +<p>"You're late," said Millie, as John entered the hall and shook +himself free of his flying coat.</p> +<p>"Yes, dear; missed the 5.40 D.H. from the Battersea Park +Take-off by a minute to-night. Jones brought me home on that neat +little knock-about spad he's just bought. Small two-seater +arrangement, you know. Then I walked from the 'drome just to +stretch myself. They don't give you too much move space in those +planettes."</p> +<p>"Oh, I'd just love to have an aeroplanette like that!" exclaimed +Millie. "Mrs. Smith says she simply couldn't do without hers now; +it makes her so independent. She can pop up to town, do her +shopping and get back in a short afternoon."</p> +<p>"Um—yes," calculated John. "Less than seventy miles the +double journey—she'd manage that all right."</p> +<p>"And that pilot of theirs," went on Millie, "seems just as safe +with the 'pup' as he is with that great twin-engined bus her +husband is so keen on."</p> +<p>"Yes," said John; "must be quite an undertaking getting Smith's +tri-plane on the sky-way. It's useful for a family party, though. I +hear he packed twenty or thirty on to it for the picnic they had at +John-o'-Groat's last week. By the way," added John, as he moved +upstairs, "aren't the Robinsons coming to dinner?"</p> +<p>"Yes, you'd better hurry up and change," advised Millie.</p> +<p>The Robinsons were very up-to-date people, John decided as they +sat down to the meal a little later. He hadn't met them before. +They were Millie's friends.</p> +<p>"Very glad to know such near neighbours," he said cordially. +"Why, it's under forty miles to your place, I should think."</p> +<p>"Forty-seven kilos, to be exact," Robinson volunteered, "and I +should say we did it under twenty minutes."</p> +<p>"Quite good flying," said John.</p> +<p>"We came by the valley route, too," put in Mrs. Robinson. "John +was good enough to consider my wretched air-pocket nerves rather +than his petrol."</p> +<p>"It's a couple of miles further," explained Robinson, "but my +wife isn't such a stout flier as her mother, though the old lady is +over seventy. My pilot was bringing her from Town one afternoon +last week—took the Dorking-Leith Hill air-way, you know, +always bumpy over there—and I suppose from all accounts he +must have dropped her a hundred feet plumb, side-slipped and got +into a spinning dive and only pulled the old bus out again when the +furrows in a ploughed field below them had grown easily +countable."</p> +<p>"Yes, it makes me shivery to think of," ejaculated Mrs. +Robinson; "but mother really has extraordinary nerve. She wasn't in +the least upset."</p> +<p>"No, not a little bit, by Jove!" added Robinson. "The old sport +just leaned forward in her seat and, when James had adjusted his +head-piece, she coolly reprimanded him for stunting without orders. +Of course she doesn't know anything about the theory of the thing, +you see."</p> +<p>With the dessert came letters by the late air post.</p> +<p>"Oh, please excuse me," said Millie, as she took them from the +maid, "I see there's a reply from Auntie—the Edinburgh aunt, +you know," she explained. "I wrote her this morning, imploring her +to come over to-morrow for the bazaar. She's so splendid at that +sort of thing."</p> +<p>"What my wife's aunt doesn't know about flying isn't worth +knowing," remarked John with finality. "Why, she qualified for her +ticket last <span class="pagenum"><a name="page337" id= +"page337"></a>[pg 337]</span> year, and she'll never see forty +again. How's that for an up-to-date aunt?"</p> +<p>"I doubt if she'll fly solo that distance, though," said Millie; +"I don't think she ought to, either."</p> +<p>"Of course," said Robinson, "it's a bit of a strain for a woman +of middle age to negotiate three hundred odd miles, even with a +couple of landings for a cup of tea <i>en route</i>."</p> +<p>Millie rose. "Now, don't you men sit here for an hour discussing +'flying speeds,' 'gliding angles,' and all that sort of thing. I +object to aero-maniacs on principle. I—" At that moment a +peculiar noise, evidently in the near vicinity of the house, +arrested the attention of the party.</p> +<p>"Sounded like something breaking," said Millie, going to the +window, which overlooked the garden and a good-sized paddock +beyond. John had already gone out to investigate.</p> +<p>In a minute or two he reappeared ushering in a very +jolly-looking old gentleman in a flying suit.</p> +<p>"A thousand pardons, Mrs. Smith," said the new arrival; "John +collected me in the paddock. Ha! ha! You know my theory about the +paddock."</p> +<p>The guests having been introduced, explanations followed.</p> +<p>"You know my theory," began old Mr, Brown.</p> +<p>"Yes, rather; I should think we do," interrupted Millie, leading +him to the most comfortable armchair "But," she quoted, "you are +old, Mr. Brown; do you think at your age it is right?"</p> +<p>"Well, the theory's smashed, anyhow," said John decisively, "and +so's my fence."</p> +<p>"No! no! I won't hear of it," laughed Brown; "I admit the fence, +but not the theory. You see," he went on, turning to Mrs. Robinson, +"I've always insisted, as Smith knows, that there's plenty of +landing space in his paddock, provided you do it up wind. The fact +is I glided in to-night from east to west. Thought I should be dead +head on; but I believe I was a couple of points out in my reckoning +and so failed to bring the old 'bus to a stand short of the fence. +You know, Smith," he added, with an injured air, "you ought to have +a wind-pointer rigged up so's there'd be no doubt about it."</p> +<p>"Just to encourage reckless old gentlemen to smash up my +premises, I suppose," retorted John. "But I admit I found some +consolation for my smashed fence when I observed the pathetic +appearance of your under carriage, after your famous landing."</p> +<p>"And now," said Millie to Mr. Brown, "all will be forgotten and +forgiven if you'll come into the drawing-room and let Mr. and Mrs. +Robinson hear you sing that jolly song about</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Come and have a flip</p> +<p>In a big H Pip,' etc.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>"You know."</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"The egg shortage notwithstand, the Easter egg rolling carnival +at Preston, which dates back to mediaeval times, was, after a lapse +of four years, celebrated with great musto."</p> +<p><i>Midland Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Pre-war eggs, apparently.</p> +<hr /> +<h4>Another Candid Candidate.</h4> +<p>"—— BOARD OF GUARDIANS.</p> +<p>"Mrs. —— desires to thank all who voted so +splendidly, placing her at the top of the pole."</p> +<p><i>Provincial Paper</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"The queue at one part of the morning extended from the booking +office, past the Midland Station entrance, into City Square, along +the front of the Queen's Hotel, to the top of +yesterday."—<i>Yorkshire Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Better than the middle of next week, anyhow.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:65%;"><a href= +"images/337.png"><img width="100%" src="images/337.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Voice</i>. "IS THAT THE GREAT SOUTHERN RAILWAY?"</p> +<p><i>Flapper</i>. "YES."</p> +<p><i>Voice</i>. "ARE YOU THE PASSENGER DEPARTMENT?"</p> +<p><i>Flapper</i>. "NO, I'M THE GOODS."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page338" id="page338"></a>[pg +338]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/338.png"><img width="100%" src="images/338.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>The Village Oracle.</i> "YOU MARK MY WORDS—THESE 'ERE +GERMANS 'LL DO US DOWN AT THIS FINISH. THEY'LL PAY THE BLOOMIN' SIX +THOUSAND MILLIONS, OR WOTEVER IT IS, IN THREEPENNY BITS; AND THEN +'OO THE 'ELL'S GOING TO COUNT IT?"</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>"AS YOU WERE."</h2> +<center> +<p>A MEMORY OF MI-CARÊME.</p> +</center> +<p>Chippo Munks is a regular time-serving soldier, as distinguished +from the amateurs who only joined the Army for the sake of a war. +His company conduct-sheet runs into volumes, and in peace-time they +fix a special peg outside the orderly-room for him to hang his cap +on. At present he systematically neglects the functions of +billet-orderly at a Base town in France.</p> +<p>A month or two ago he came across Chris Jones.</p> +<p>"Fined fourteen days' pay," said Chippo; "an' cheap it was at +the price. But the financial embarrassment thereby followin' puts +me under the necessity of borrowing the loan of a +five-spotter."</p> +<p>"How did it happen?" said Chris, playing for time.</p> +<p>"'Twas this way," said Chippo. "The other night I was walking +down the Roo Roobray, thinking out ways of making you chaps more +comfortable in the billet, as is my custom. Suddenly out of the +gloom there looms a Red Indian in full war-paint.</p> +<p>"'Strange,' thinks I. 'Chinks an' Portugoose we expects here, +likewise Annamites and Senegalese an' doughboys; but I never heard +that the BUFFALO BILL aggregation had taken the war-path.'</p> +<p>"He passes, and a little Geisha comes tripping by. I rubs my +eyes an' says, 'British Constitootian' correctly; but she was +followed by a Gipsy King and a Welsh Witch. Then I sees a masked +Toreador coming along, and I decides to arsk him all about it. The +language question didn't worry me any. I can pitch the cuffer in +any bat from Tamil to Arabic, an' the only chap I couldn't compree +was a deaf-an'-dumb man who suffered from St. Vitus' Dance, which +made 'im stutter with his fingers.</p> +<p>"'Hi, caballero,' says I, 'where's the bull-fight?'</p> +<p>"'It isn't a bull-fight, M'sieur,' he replies. 'It's +Mi-Carême.'</p> +<p>"'If he's an Irishman,' I says, 'I never met him; but if it's a +kind of pastry I'll try some.'</p> +<p>"Then he shows me a doorway through which they was all entering, +and beside it was a big yellow poster which said, +'<i>Mi-Carême. Grand Bal Costume. Cavaliers, 2 francs. Dames, +1 franc 50 centimes.'</i></p> +<p>"'I'd love to be a cavalier at two francs a time,' I remarks. +'Besides, I want to make the farther acquaintance of little Perfume +of Pineapple Essence who passed by just now.'</p> +<p>"'It will be necessary to 'ave a costume, M'sieur,' says Don +Rodrigo.</p> +<p>"'Trust me,' I answers with dignity; 'I've won diplomas as a +fancy-dress architect.'</p> +<p>"I goes to my billet and investigates the personal effects of my +colleagues. My choice fell on a Cameron kilt, a football jersey and +a shrapnel helmet. These I puts into a bundle an' hikes back to the +Hall of Dance.</p> +<p>"'May I ask what M'sieur represents?' said the doorkeeper as I +paid my two francs.</p> +<p>"'I haven't started yet,' I answers asperiously. 'I assumes my +costume as APPIUS CLAUDIUS in the dressing-room.'</p> +<p>"Well, when I'd finished my toilette—regrettin' the while +that I hadn't brought a pair of spurs to complete the +costume—I entered the ball-room. It was a scene of +East-end—I mean Eastern—splendour. Carmens an' Father +Timeses, Pierrots an' Pierrettes, Pompadours an' Apaches was +gyrating to the soft strains of the orchestra, who perspired at the +piano in his shirt-sleeves.</p> +<p>"All of a sudden I saw my little Geisha, my Stick of Scented +Brilliantine, waltzing with the Toreador, an' my heart started +beating <span class="pagenum"><a name="page339" id= +"page339"></a>[pg 339]</span> holes in my football jersey. When the +orchestra stopped playing to light a cigarette I sought her +out.</p> +<p>"'O Choicest of the Fifty-seven Varieties,' I says, 'deign to +give me your honourable hand for the next gladiatorial jazz.'</p> +<p>"The Bull-fighter looked black, but she put her little hand in +mine an' we trod a stately measure. Every now an' then a shadow +passed o'er the ballroom, an' I knew it was the Toreador scowling. +But I took no notice of him, an' we danced nearly everything on the +menu, Don Rodrigo only getting an odd item now an' then to prevent +him dying of grief.</p> +<p>"By-an'-by the Geisha said she must be going, so I offered to +escort her home. Don Roddy tried to butt in, and when he got the +frozen face he used langwidge more like a cow-puncher than a +bull-fighter. I didn't trouble to change my clothes, because it +seemed to be the custom to walk about like freaks at +Mi-Carême, and we had a lovely promenade in the pale +moonlight.</p> +<p>"When I returned the revelry was nearly over an' the orchestra +was getting limp. I went into the cloak-room to change my clothes, +but I couldn't find 'em anywhere. What annoyed me most about it was +that there was five francs in my trouser pockets which I was saving +to pay you back the loan I borrered last week."</p> +<p>"I wondered when you were going to say something about that," +said Chris Jones.</p> +<p>"It fair upset me," continued Chippo. "And then all at once I +saw my old pal the Toreador sneaking out of the door with a bundle +an' the leg of a pair of khaki trousers hanging out of it. I gave a +wild whoop an' was after him like the wind.</p> +<p>"Don Roddy was some runner. He doubled down the Roo Roubray, +dodged round a corner an' made for the Grand Pont. I was gaining on +him fast when I plunked into the arms of two Military Police.</p> +<p>"'What particular specie of night-bird do you call yourself?' +said one of 'em, holding my arm in a grip of iron.</p> +<p>"'I'm a Sergeant-drummer in the Roman-Legion,' says I, trying to +get away. 'An' I'm in a hurry.'</p> +<p>"'Well, where's your pass?'</p> +<p>"'We don't wear 'em in our battalion,' I says. 'For heving's +sake let me go. There's a chap over there trying to pinch my +wardrobe.'</p> +<p>"It was no use. They held me tight, notwithstandin' me +struggles, till the Toreador disappeared from view over the +bridge.</p> +<p>"'That's done it. I'll go quietly,' I groans to the M.P.'s in +despair. 'That's Chris Jones's five francs gone west, and nuthen +else matters.'"...</p> +<p>"Well," said Chris Jones, "what then?"</p> +<p>"The rest you knows," said Chippo plaintively, "exceptin' that +later my clothes was mysteriously dumped at th' billet with the +pockets empty. But I think the distressing circumstances are such +as warrants me in arsking fer the loan of another five francs."</p> +<p>"They would be," said Chris Jones, fumbling with his wallet, +"only I happened to be the Toreador myself. But you can have the +same old five francs back, an' be 'as you were'!"</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:65%;"><a href= +"images/339.png"><img width="100%" src="images/339.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p>"CAN I 'AVE THE AFTERNOON OFF TO SEE A BLOKE ABAHT A JOB FER MY +MISSIS?"</p> +<p>"YOU'LL BE BACK IN THE MORNING, I SUPPOSE?"</p> +<p>"YUS—IF SHE DON'T GET IT."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h4>How to play Golf with your Head.</h4> +<blockquote> +<p>"He cocked his head up when playing his approach and hit it all +along the carpet."</p> +<p><i>Evening Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<h4>AS YOU LIKE IT OR DON'T.</h4> +<p>SCENE.—<i>Bois do Boulogne</i>.</p> +<p><i>Enter</i> Orlando.</p> +<p><i>Orlando (reading from sheet of paper).</i></p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I should be extremely gloomy</p> +<p>If they pinched from me my Fiume.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>[<i>Pins composition on tree.</i></p> +<p>Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love. [<i>Exit</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h4>ANOTHER IMPENDING APOLOGY.</h4> +<blockquote> +<p>"If this pianist is not heard again in Shanghai, he will carry +away with him the grateful thanks of our music-lovers."</p> +<p><i>Shanghai Mercury</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"This debate will immediately precede the introduction of the +Budget, and will, let us hope, inaugurate a campaign for national +entrenchment."—<i>Provincial Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Ah! if only, as taxpayers, we could dig ourselves in!</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page340" id="page340"></a>[pg +340]</span> +<h2>THE HOUSING QUESTION.</h2> +<p>Someone estimated the other day that England is short just now +of five hundred thousand houses. This is a miscalculation. She is +really short of five hundred thousand and one, the odd one being +the house that we are looking for and cannot find.</p> +<p>We have discovered many houses in our tour of London, but none +that gives complete satisfaction. Either the locality or the shape +or the price is all wrong; or, as more often happens, the fixtures. +By the fixtures I mean, of course, the people who are already in +the place and refuse to come out of it; London is full of houses +with the wrong people in them.</p> +<p>"I wonder," says Celia, standing outside some particularly +desirable residence, "if we dare go in and ask them if they +wouldn't like to move."</p> +<p>"We can't live there unless they do," I agreed. "It would be so +crowded."</p> +<p>"After all, I suppose they took it from somebody else some time +or other. I don't see why we shouldn't take it from +<i>them</i>."</p> +<p>"As soon as they put a 'TO LET' board outside we will."</p> +<p>Celia hangs about hopefully for some days after this, waiting +for a man to come along with a "TO LET" board over his shoulder. As +soon as he plants it in the front garden she means to rush forward, +strike out the "TO," and present herself to the occupier with her +cheque-book in her hand. It is thus, she assures me, that the best +houses are snapped up; but it is weary waiting, and I cannot take +my turn on guard, for I must stay at home and earn the money which +the landlord (sordid fellow) will want.</p> +<p>Sometimes we search the advertisement columns in the papers in +the hope of finding something that may do.</p> +<p>"Here's one," I announced one morning; "'For American +millionaires and others. Fifteen bathrooms—' Oh, no, that's +too big."</p> +<p>"Isn't there anything for English hundredaires?" said Celia.</p> +<p>"Here's one that says 'reasonable offer taken.'"</p> +<p>"Yes, but I don't suppose we reason the same way as he +does."</p> +<p>"Well, here's one for four thousand pounds. That's not so bad. I +mean as a price, not as a house."</p> +<p>"Have you got four thousand pounds?"</p> +<p>"No; I was hoping <i>you</i> had."</p> +<p>"Couldn't you mortgage something—up to the hilt?"</p> +<p>"We'll have a look," I said.</p> +<p>We spent the rest of that day looking for something to mortgage, +but found nothing with a hilt at all high up.</p> +<p>"Anyhow," I said, "it was a rotten house."</p> +<p>"Wouldn't it be simpler," said Celia, "to put in an +advertisement ourselves, describing exactly the sort of house we +want? That's the way I always get servants."</p> +<p>"A house is so much more difficult to describe than a cook."</p> +<p>"Oh, but I'm sure <i>you</i> could do it. You describe things so +well."</p> +<p>Feeling highly flattered, I retired to the library and +composed.</p> +<p>For the first hour or so I tried to do it in the <i>staccato</i> +language of house-agents. They say all they want to say in five +lines; I tried to say all we wanted to say in ten. The result was +hopeless. We both agreed that we should hate to live in that sort +of house. Celia indeed seemed to feel that if I couldn't write +better than that we couldn't afford to live in a house at all.</p> +<p>"You don't seem to realise," I said, "that in the ordinary way +people pay <i>me</i> for writing. This time, so far from receiving +any money, I have actually got to hand it out in order to get into +print at all. You can hardly expect me to give my best to an editor +of that kind."</p> +<p>"I thought that the artist in you would insist on putting your +best into <i>everything</i> that you wrote, quite apart from the +money."</p> +<p>Of course after that the artist in me had to pull himself +together. An hour later it had delivered itself as +follows:—</p> +<p>"WANTED, an unusual house. When I say unusual I mean that it +mustn't look like anybody's old house. Actually it should contain +three living-rooms and five bedrooms. One of the bedrooms may be a +dressing-room, if it is quite understood that a dressing-room does +not mean a cupboard in which the last tenant's housemaid kept her +brushes. The other four bedrooms must be a decent size and should +get plenty of sun. The exigencies of the solar system may make it +impossible for the sun to be always there, but it should be around +when wanted. With regard to the living-rooms, it is essential that +they should not be square but squiggly. The drawing-room should be +particularly squiggly; the dining-room should have at least an air +of squiggliness; and the third room, in which I propose to work, +may be the least squiggly of the three, but it <i>must</i> be +inspiring, otherwise the landlord may not obtain his rent. The +kitchen arrangements do not interest me greatly, but they will +interest the cook, and for this reason should be as delightful as +possible; after which warning anybody with a really bad basement on +his hands will see the wisdom of retiring from the <i>queue</i> and +letting the next man move up one. The bathroom should have plenty +of space, not only for the porcelain bath which it will be expected +to contain, but also (as is sometimes forgotten) for the bather +after he or she has stepped out of the bath. The fireplaces should +not be, as they generally are, utterly beastly. Owners of utterly +beastly fireplaces may also move out of the queue, but they should +take their places up at the end again in case they are wanted; for, +if things were satisfactory otherwise, their claims might be +considered, since even the beastliest fireplace can be dug out at +the owner's expense and replaced with something tolerable.</p> +<p>"A little garden would be liked. At any rate there must be a +view of trees, whether one's own or somebody else's.</p> +<p>"As regards position, the house must be in London. I mean really +in London. I mean really in central London. The outlying portions +of Kensington, such as Ealing, Hanwell and Uxbridge, are no good. +Cricklewood, Highgate, New Barnet and similar places near Portman +Square are useless. It must be in London—in the middle of +London.</p> +<p>"Now we come to rather an important matter. Rent. It is up to +you to say how much you want; but let me give you one word of +warning. Don't be absurd. You aren't dealing now with one of those +profiteers who remained (with honour) in his own country. And you +can have our flat in exchange, if you like—well, it isn't +ours really, it's the landlord's, but we will introduce you to him +without commission. Anyway, don't be afraid of saying what you +want; if it is absurd (and I expect it will be) we will tell you +so. And if you <i>must</i> have a lump sum instead of an annual +one, well, perhaps we could manage to borrow it (from you or +somebody); but smaller annual lumps would be preferred."</p> +<p>When I had written it out I handed it to Celia.</p> +<p>"There you are," I said, "and, speaking as an artist, I don't +see how I can make it a word shorter."</p> +<p>She read it carefully through.</p> +<p>"It does sound a jolly house," she said wistfully. "Would it +cost a lot as an advertisement?"</p> +<p>"About the first year's rent. And even then nobody would take it +seriously."</p> +<p>"Oh, well, perhaps I'd better go and see another agent." She +fingered the advertisement regretfully. "It seems a pity to waste +this," she added with a smile.</p> +<p>But the artist in me was already quite resolved that it should +not be wasted.</p> +<p>A.A.M.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page341" id="page341"></a>[pg +341]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/341.png"><img width="100%" src="images/341.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Lady</i>. "POOR DEAR! AND SO THEY REJECTED IT? IT'S A +SHAME—THEY OUGHT TO SET YOU SIMPLER SUBJECTS."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>A THREATENED SOURCE OF REVENUE.</h2> +<p>The POSTMASTER-GENERAL and the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER are +at this moment the most melancholy of men. For the last few months +they had been quietly chuckling to themselves over one of the most +brilliant ideas that ever adorned the annals of Government. But the +best laid schemes gang aft agley.</p> +<p>While publicists and economic experts were shaking their grey +hairs over the prospect of national bankruptcy, the P.M.G. and the +C. of E. were weeping jazz tears of joy as the national debt lifted +before their eyes "like mist unrolled on the morning wind." And +then certain unsophisticated Members of a new, a very new, House of +Commons began their deadly work. As a result the main scheme of +national solvency is in danger.</p> +<p>There are those who still think that the franchise was extended +to women merely as an objective piece of political justice. I hate +cynicism, and I should be the last to throw cold water on an ideal, +but, as I said, the real fruits of that political master-stroke are +in danger.</p> +<p>While millions of enfranchised women were quietly engaged in +writing twice a week to their particular Member, at three +half-pence a time (or more), they were unconsciously assisting the +considered policy of His Majesty's Government, which was that such +letters should be written and remain unanswered; that more letters +and still more should be written, stamped and posted to demand an +answer, and that still more should be written to friends and +relations exposing the grave lack of courtesy at Westminster.</p> +<p>But, alas! certain Members, with monumental naïveté, +have thought fit to take their correspondence seriously. They have +put questions to Ministers. They have in so many crude words openly +on the floor of the House referred to "the increase in the number +of letters which Members now receive from their constituents on +parliamentary matters, owing to the recent additions to the +franchise and its extension to women." They have pleaded for the +privilege of "franking" their answers. Could perversity go further? +What woman will continue to write to a Member who satisfies her +curiosity? And what of the unwritten, unstamped, unposted letters +of just indignation to friends and relations?</p> +<p>The P.M.G.'s laconic answer to this monstrous request, "I do not +think it would be expedient," was highly commendable as a feat of +Ministerial restraint. But the gloom that has settled on him is +only too solidly grounded. These afflicted Members are out to raise +a sentimental public opinion in support of their silly demand. +Then, of course, the Government will capitulate, and the country +will go Bolshevik from excessive taxation.</p> +<p>Will not all patriotic women constituents write at once to their +Members and point out the folly of this agitation?</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page342" id="page342"></a>[pg +342]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/342.png"><img width="100%" src="images/342.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p>"I SHALL NEVER FIND ANYONE ELSE LIKE YOU. YOU SEE, YOU'RE SO +DIFFERENT FROM OTHER GIRLS."</p> +<p>"OH, BUT YOU'LL FIND LOTS OF OTHER GIRLS DIFFERENT FROM OTHER +GIRLS."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>OLD SOLDIERS.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>They dug us down and earthed us in, their hasty shovels +plying,</p> +<p class="i2">Us the poor dead of Oudenarde, Ramillies, +Waterloo;</p> +<p>We heard their drum-taps fading and their trumpet fanfares +dying</p> +<p>As they marched away and left us, in the dark and silence +lying,</p> +<p class="i2">Home-bound for happy England and the green fields +that we knew.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>We slept. The seasons went their round. We did not hear the +rover</p> +<p class="i2">Winds in our coverlets of grass, the plough-shares +tear the mould;</p> +<p>We did not feel the bridal earth thrill to her April lover</p> +<p>Nor hear the song of bees among the poppies and the clover;</p> +<p class="i2">Snow-fall or sun to us were one and time went by +untold.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>We woke. The soil about us shook to the long boom of +thunder—</p> +<p class="i2">War loose and making music on his crashing brazen +gongs—</p> +<p>The sharp hoof-beat, the thresh of feet stirred our old bones +down under;</p> +<p>Wheels upon wheels ground overhead; then with a glow of +wonder</p> +<p class="i2">We heard the chant of Englishmen singing their +marching songs.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Blood of our blood! We heard them swing a-down the teeming +highways,</p> +<p class="i2">As we swung once. We heard them shout; we heard the +jests they cast.</p> +<p>And we dead men remembered then blue Junes in Devon by-ways,</p> +<p>Star-dusted skies and women's eyes, women with sweet and shy +ways.</p> +<p class="i2">These were their race! We strove to rise, but the +strong clay held us fast.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Year in, year out, along the roads the ceaseless wagons +clattered;</p> +<p class="i2">Listened we for an English voice ever, ever in +vain;</p> +<p>Far in the west, year out, year in, terrible thunders +battered,</p> +<p>Drumming the doom of whom—of whom? Hope in our hearts lay +shattered....</p> +<p class="i2">Then we heard the lilt of Highland pipes and English +songs again.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>On, ever on, we heard them press; their jaunty bugles +blended</p> +<p class="i2">Proudly and clear that we might hear, we dead men of +old wars,</p> +<p>How the red agony was passed and the long vigil ended.</p> +<p>Now may we sleep in peace again lapped in a vision splendid</p> +<p class="i2">Of England's banners marching onwards, upwards to the +stars.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>PATLANDER.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page343" id="page343"></a>[pg +343]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/343.png"><img width="100%" src="images/343.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>THE MILITARY MUZZLE.</h3> +<p>FRITZ. "AFTER ALL, IT'S NOT MUCH GOOD BARKING WHEN THEY'VE +STOPPED MY BITE."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page345" id="page345"></a>[pg +345]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/345.png"><img width="100%" src="images/345.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>OUR SENSITIVE YOUTH.</h3> +<p><i>Cadet</i>. "'SCUSE ME, SIR—ARE YOU A DOCTOR? THERE'S A +BOY FAINTED."</p> +<p><i>Doctor</i>. "AH—FATIGUE, I SUPPOSE?"</p> +<p><i>Cadet</i>. "No, SIR. THE SERGEANT SPLIT AN INFINITIVE."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>BRAINS AND BALDNESS.</h3> +<h4>BY OUR MEDICAL EXPERT.</h4> +<center> +<p>(<i>With acknowledgments to "The Times"</i>).</p> +</center> +<p>Baldness among men is undoubtedly on the increase, and various +reasons have been assigned for its appearance in an exacerbated +form. In particular the stress and strain of the War have been +mooted, and the argument is reinforced by such words as Chauvinism, +which, Mr. LLOYD GEORGE is probably not aware, is derived from +<i>chauve</i>. War is a solvent of equanimity; in the cant but +expressive phrase it becomes harder to keep one's hair on. Again, +<i>inter arma silent Musae</i>. Fewer people have been playing the +pianoforte, an exercise which has always exerted a stimulating +effect on the follicles. Our political correspondent at Paris +writes that M. PADEREWSKI'S once luxuriant <i>chevelure</i> has +suffered sadly since he has taken to politics, but that after +playing for a couple of hours to Mr. BALFOUR a distinct improvement +was noticeable.</p> +<p>But no very clear exposition of the subject has yet been +forthcoming, and this is all the more extraordinary when it is +considered that baldness is really a very unsightly and distressing +condition.</p> +<p>The sensitiveness of JULIUS CAESAR on this score is notorious. +CIMABUE, of whom Mr. LLOYD GEORGE has probably never heard, was a +martyr to <i>alopecia seborrhoica</i>, and the case of the Highland +chieftain MacAssar is too well known to call for detailed survey. +Yet the strange fact remains that hitherto sustained scientific +investigation has been lacking, though there is assuredly a great, +if not perhaps a vital, need for it. No one can afford to say that, +if this apparently, simple malady were studied, facts of the utmost +value to hatters would not be forthcoming. One can only express +regret that those fortunate interviewers who have been allowed to +describe the cranial developments of eminent men should have failed +to profit by their opportunities for examining the "area of +baldness," which corresponds to the distribution of the Vth nerve, +the branches of which come out from the brain by the eye-sockets. +Such investigations will never be properly carried out and +co-ordinated without the establishment of a Hair Ministry, which is +one of the clamant needs of reconstruction. It is an open secret +that the question was discussed a year ago and set aside for the +curious reason that of the three persons whose candidature was most +powerfully supported two were bald, and the third was the Member +for Wigan.</p> +<p>Meanwhile a start has been made by the unofficial activities of +a small committee of experts in trichology, and their conclusions, +published in an interim report, are worth recording. They are as +follows: "That the 'area of baldness,' should an illness supervene, +will certainly suffer to a greater extent than the more vigorous +ones. Illness, as is well known, tends to interfere with the +nourishment of the skin and to establish an atrophic diathesis of +the follicular ganglia. The patient's hair may all come out, or, +and this often happens, it may come out only in one area—the +area of baldness."</p> +<p>In a minority report, signed by only one of the committee, the +strange theory was expounded that genius developed in a direct +ratio with the loss of hair between the temporal regions and the +crown of the head. It was also pointed out that in a great number +of TURNER'S pictures a special feature was the prominence given to +bald-headed fishermen in high lights. This observation does not +seem to represent a scientific attempt to handle the problem; but +it should not be rashly dismissed on that account.</p> +<p>In a further article we hope to deal with the effect of hard +hats on the conductivity of the branches of the Vth nerve, the +mentality of the Hairy Ainus and other cognate questions.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page346" id="page346"></a>[pg +346]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/346.png"><img width="100%" src="images/346.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Mr. 'Iggins (describing his first experience in lawsuit).</i> +"'IS LORDSHIP SEZ, 'YOU CAN GO. THE CASE IS ADJOURNED <i>SINE +DIE</i>. WELL, I WASN'T GOING TO LET 'IM THINK I DIDN'T RUMBLE 'IS +LAW-TALK, SO I JUS' GIVES 'IM A WINK AN' SEZ, 'RIGHT-O! GOOD +BYE-EE!'"</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>BOLSHEVISMUS.</h2> +<p><i>Valparaiso, April 18th</i>. (By special cable to <i>The Daily +Thrill</i>.)—Three men, named Fedor Popemoff, Leon Strunski +and Igor Wunderbaum, were arrested here this morning on suspicion +of being Bolshevist agents. Their lodging was searched and a +quantity of seditious literature, a portmanteau full of Browning +pistols and some hanks of dried caviare removed. At a preliminary +examination they claimed that they had been sent to Chile by the +Siberian Red Cross to establish a co-operative guinea-pig ranch for +indigent Grand Dukes. The police believe that Wunderbaum is no +other than the notorious McDuff, the Peebles anarchist, who, when +not actively engaged in preaching revolution, used to earn a +precarious livelihood contributing to the Scottish comic +papers.</p> +<p><i>Moscow, April 17th</i> (delayed). (By the Special +Correspondent of <i>The Morning Roast</i>.)—By intervening in +Russia at once the Allies can destroy Bolshevism at a blow. Three +days hence the Red hordes may be sweeping across Western Europe in +an irresistible flood. At the present moment Trotsky has less than +one thousand one hundred and thirty-five trustworthy troops all +told, mostly Chinese, with a smattering of Army Service Corps. In a +month's time he will have a million and a half of well-trained +soldiers at his beck. Don't ask me how he does it. He has plenty of +money and his Army is well paid. Only yesterday I saw a private of +the Red Guards pay five roubles for a hair-cut. Will it be another +case of "Too late"?</p> +<p><i>New York, April 18th.</i> (By special cable to <i>The Daily +Thrill</i>.)—While truffle-tracking in the Saratoga forest a +corporal and three men of the United States Marines came upon what +is believed to be a <i>cache</i> of Bolshevist arms. The +<i>cache</i> contained six 9-inch howitzers, two hundred thousand +rifles and a million rounds of ammunition, and was skilfully +concealed under the bole of a tree. Secret service men claim that +this is part of a gigantic plot for the disorganization of traffic, +the nationalization of cocktails and the wresting of Ireland from +the strangulating grip of the Anglo-Saxon party. Two men have been +arrested in Seattle in connection with the affair. On one of them +was found Bolshevist literature and two hundred million francs in +notes of the Deutsche Bank. He admitted that his name was not +Devlin and said that the money had been given to him to hold by an +Australian soldier who had not returned for it.</p> +<p><i>Moscow, April 19th.</i> (From the Special Correspondent of +<i>The Daily Blues</i>.)—I have just had a chat with Hackoff, +the confidant of Trotsky. He indignantly denied that Russia was in +a state of anarchy and pointed out that one hundred and +twenty-three thousand one hundred and nine persons had already been +executed for conduct likely to cause a breach of the peace. There +can be no question that the man is sincere. He was very despondent, +and stated that, owing to false reports spread by the Allies, the +Bolshevist paper money had become worthless, except in Paris, where +they would take anything you had on you. He urged that unless an +arrangement could be made with the United States for a loan or +Colonel Wedgwood would consent to take command of the Red Army the +counter-revolution could no longer be resisted. Hackoff is a shrewd +fellow, but neither he nor Trotsky can cope with the situation much +longer. Only last week I telegraphed Mr. Lloyd George that England +must act at once if we are to save Bolshevism from being nothing +better than a Utopian dream.</p> +<p><i>Wilna, April 20th.</i> (By special cable to <i>The Morning +Roast</i>.)—Five hundred thousand Red Guards, well supplied +with heavy artillery and German engineers (<i>Wurmtruppen</i>), are +advancing on the town. The Church Lads Brigade are parading the +streets day and night to prevent looting. Outwardly the Burgomaster +remains calm, but this morning he told me, with tears in his eyes, +that unless three carloads of potatoes reached the doomed city +before next Friday nothing could save it. "Ah," he cried, "if only +rich England would send us some of her tinned milk!"</p> +<p><i>Stockholm, April 21st.</i> (From the Special Correspondent of +<i>The Daily Thrill</i>.)—An extraordinary incident has come +to light here. While the baggage of Mlle. Orloff, the famous +<i>danseuse</i>, was being unloaded at the pier a heavy trunk +dropped from the sling and crashed on to the wharf. Rendered +suspicious by the lady's unaccountable agitation, Customs officers +searched the trunk and found at the bottom of it six hundred +million pounds in bank-notes and a Russian named Oilivitch, who at +first claimed to be a scenic artist, but finally admitted that he +had been appointed by Lenin ambassador to the Netherlands. +Communication with Scotland Yard has now established the astounding +fact that he is the Abram Oilivitch who in 1914 kept a +fish-and-chips shop in Lower Tittlebat Street, Houndsditch. +Oilivitch first came under suspicion when it was discovered that +Litvinoff had been seen to purchase a haddock at his shop. He was +also known to have contributed eighteen-pence to the funds of the +Union of Democratic Control, but <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"page347" id="page347"></a>[pg 347]</span> afterwards recovered the +sum, claiming that he had paid it under the erroneous belief that +the Union of Democratic Control was an institution for extending +philanthropy to decaying fishmongers. After disappearing from sight +for a while Oilivitch was next heard of in the Censor's Department, +from which he was removed for suppressing a number of postal +orders, but afterwards reinstated and transferred to the Foreign +Office. He left the Foreign Office in June, 1918, as the result of +ill-health, and was given a passport to Russia, where his medical +adviser resided.</p> +<p><i>Later</i>.—It now transpires that Oilivitch was also +employed at the Admiralty, the War Office and the National Liberal +Club. It has also been established that he was born in +Düsseldorf and that his real name is Gustaf Schnapps. He is +being detained on suspicion.</p> +<p><i>Moscow, April 23rd.</i> (By special cable to <i>The Daily +Blues</i>.)—The situation here, thanks to the preposterous +conduct of the Allies, is desperate. Food is unobtainable and +Trotsky has only one pair of trousers. Unless something is done the +Soviet Committee will disintegrate and chaos ensue. Already grave +unrest is manifesting itself in various parts of the country. +Hackoff, the able Minister of Justice and Sociology, tells me that +he has already raised the weekly executions of bourgeoisie from six +to ten thousand, in a desperate endeavour to prevent disorder on +the part of the populace. It is not too late for the Peace +Conference to act. Trotsky admitted to me yesterday that, on +receipt of fifty thousand pounds and a new pair of trousers as a +guarantee of good faith, he would allow the Big Four to present +their case to him. He is firm on the subject of an indemnity and +the execution of Mr. Bottomley. Otherwise he is moderation itself. +But the Allies must act at once. To-morrow will be too late.</p> +<p>ALGOL.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/347.png"><img width="100%" src="images/347.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Pupil</i>. "WHAT I WANT TO KNOW IS, AM I A BASS OR A +BARITONE?"</p> +<p><i>Teacher.</i> "NO—YOU'RE NOT."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h4>INTELLIGENT ANTICIPATION.</h4> +<blockquote> +<p>"If births can be arranged would not mind taking charge of +children in lieu of passage."</p> +<p><i>Advt. in "Statesman." (Calcutta).</i></p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"It is unsafe even to curry favour with the French just to spite +your own Prim Minister."</p> +<p><i>Sunday Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Mr. LLOYD GEORGE has been called a lot of things in his time, +but—prim!</p> +<hr /> +<p>From a concert programme:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"Recitatif et Grand air D'oedipe à Cologne."</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It was after the long march to the Rhine, no doubt, that the +hero acquired the nickname of "Swellfoot."</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE DREAM TELEPHONE.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I go to bed at half-past six</p> +<p>And Nurse says, "No more funny tricks;"</p> +<p>She takes the light and goes away</p> +<p>And all alone up there I stay.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And, as I lie there all alone,</p> +<p>Sometimes I hear the telephone;</p> +<p>I hear them say, "Yes, that's all right,"</p> +<p>Then, "Buzz, buzz, buzz," and then "Good-night."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And sometimes as I lie it seems</p> +<p>That people come into my dreams;</p> +<p>I hear a bell ring far away,</p> +<p>And then I hear the people say:</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Have you a little girl up there,</p> +<p>The room that's by the Nursery stair?</p> +<p>We are the people that she knew</p> +<p>Before she came to live with you.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Tell her we know she bruised her knee</p> +<p>In falling from the apple-tree;</p> +<p>Tell her that we'll come very soon</p> +<p>And find the missing tea-set spoon.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"She knows we often come and peep</p> +<p>And kiss her when she's fast asleep;</p> +<p>We think you'll suit her soon all right."</p> +<p>Then, "Buzz, buzz, buzz," and then, "Good-night."</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h4>ANOTHER KNOCK FOR "THE TIMES."</h4> +<blockquote> +<p>"<i>WE</i> ARE BACKING NORTHCLIFFE."</p> +<p><i>Poster of "John Bull."</i></p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page348" id="page348"></a>[pg +348]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:65%;"><a href= +"images/348.png"><img width="100%" src="images/348.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p>"I SUPPOSE YOUR LANDLORD ASKS A LOT FOR THE RENT OF THIS +PLACE?"</p> +<p>"A LOT! HE ASKS ME FOR IT NEARLY EVERY WEEK."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>DOGS' DELIGHT.</h2> +<p>SCENE.—<i>Interior of shop devoted to the sale of cutlery, +leatherware and dogs' collars, leads, etc. Customers discovered +lining the counter, others in background leading puzzled and +suspicious dogs. The proprietor is endeavouring to serve ordinary +purchasers, answer questions, punch holes in straps and give change +simultaneously. A harried assistant in a white coat is dealing, as +well as he can, with overwhelming demands for muzzles.</i></p> +<p><i>Proprietor</i>. Yes, Sir, you'll find that razor-strop +quite... Six holes wanted in that strap? (<i>To Assistant</i>) +Right—leave it here and—Sorry, Madam, I can't attend to +you just now.... Don't happen to have a <i>ten</i>-shilling note, +do you, Sir? No? Well, I may be able to manage it for you.... If +you'll speak to my assistant, Madam; <i>he</i>'s attending to the +muzzling.</p> +<p><i>The Owner of a subdued nondescript (calling Assistant).</i> +Will you ask this lady to kindly keep her dog from trying to kill +mine, please?</p> +<p><i>The Other Lady (whose dog, a powerful and truculent Airedale, +seems to have conceived a sudden and violent dislike for the +nondescript).</i> Yours must have done <i>something</i> to irritate +him—he's generally such a good-tempered dog.</p> +<p><i>Assistant (to the Airedale, which is barking furiously and +straining at his lead).</i> 'Ere, sherrup, will you? Allow me, Mum. +I'll put 'im where he can 'ave 'is good temper out to 'imself. +<i>(He hustles the Airedale to a small office, where he shuts him +in—to his and his owner's intense disapproval. A fox-terrier +in another customer's arms becomes hysterical with sympathy and +utters ear-rending barks.)</i> Oh, kindly get that dawg to sherrup, +Mum, or we'll 'ave the lot of 'em orf; or could you look in some +day when he's more collected?</p> +<p><i>Another Lady</i>. I say, I want a muzzle for my dog.</p> +<p><i>Assistant (sardonically).</i> You surprise me, Mum! We're +very near sold out, but if you'll let me 'ave a look at your dawg, +p'r'aps—</p> +<p><i>The Lady</i>. Oh, I haven't <i>brought</i> him. Left him at +Barnes.</p> +<p><i>Assistant. 'Ave</i> yer, Mum? Well, yer see, I can't run down +to Barnes—not just now I can't.</p> +<p><i>The Lady</i>. No, but I thought—he's rather a large +dog, a Pekinese spaniel.</p> +<p><i>Assistant</i>. Then I couldn't fit 'im if 'e was 'ere, cos +'e'd want a short muzzle and we've run out o' them.</p> +<p><i>A Customer with a Pekinese</i>. Then will you find me a +muzzle for <i>this</i> one?</p> +<p><i>Assistant (with resigned despair).</i> You jest 'eard me say +we 'ad no short muzzles, Mum. If you don't mind waiting 'ere an +hour or two I'll send a man to the factory in a taxi to bring back +a fresh stock—if they've got any, which I don't +guarantee.</p> +<p><i>The Customer with the Pekinese.</i> But I saw some leather +muzzles in the window; one of those would do beautifully.</p> +<p><i>Assistant.</i> I shall 'ave great pleasure in selling you +one, Mum, on'y Gover'ment says they've got to be wire. 'Owever, +it's <i>your</i> risk, not mine. Well, since you ask me, I think +you <i>'ad</i> better wait.</p> +<p><i>A Customer (carrying a large brown-and-white dog with lop +ears and soulful eyes).</i> I've been kept waiting here two hours, +and I think it's high time—</p> +<p><i>Assistant.</i> If you'll bring 'im along to the back shop, +Mum, I <i>may</i> have one left his size.</p> +<p><i>A Lady with a lovely complexion and an unlovely griffon (to +her companion).</i> So fussy and tiresome of the Government +bringing in muzzles again after all these years!</p> +<p><i>Her Companion.</i> Oh, I don't <i>know</i>. We've had a +mysterious dog running about snapping in our district for days.</p> +<p><i>The Lady with the complexion.</i> Ah, but <i>this</i> poor +darling <i>never</i> snaps, and, besides, he hasn't been used to +muzzles in Belgium. You needn't <i>mention</i> it, but I got a +friend of mine to smuggle him over for me—such a <i>dear</i> +boy, he'll do anything I ask him to.</p> +<p><i>Assistant (after attempting to fit the soulful-eyed dog with +a muzzle and narrowly escaping being bitten).</i> There, that's +enough for <i>me</i>, Mum. Jest take that dawg out at once, +please.</p> +<p><i>Owner of the dog (which, having gained its point, affects an +air of innocent detachment).</i> I shall do nothing of the kind. It +was the brutal way you took hold of her. The <i>gentlest</i> +creature! Why, I've <i>had</i> her three years!</p> +<p><i>Assistant.</i> I don't care if you've 'ad her a century. +They're all angels as come 'ere; but I ain't going to 'ave +<i>my</i> thumb bit by no angels, so will you kindly walk out?</p> +<p><i>Owner.</i> Without a muzzle? Never!</p> +<p><i>Assistant.</i> Then I shall 'ave to call in a constable to +make you. I'm not bound to sell you nothing.</p> +<p><i>Owner (with spirit). Call</i> a constable then! <i>I</i> +don't care. Here I stay till I get that muzzle.</p> +<p><i>Assistant (giving up his idea of calling a constable).</i> +Then I should advise you to take a chair, Mum, as we don't close +till seven.</p> +<p><i>Owner (retreating with dignity).</i> All <i>I</i> can say is +that I call it perfectly disgraceful. I shall certainly report your +conduct; and I only hope you won't sell a single other muzzle +to-day!</p> +<p><i>Assistant.</i> If I didn't I could bear up. <i>(To a lady +with an elderly Blenheim)</i> If it's a muzzle, Mum—</p> +<p><i>The Owner of the Blenheim</i>. That's just what I want to +know. <i>Must</i> he have a muzzle? You see, he's got no teeth, so +he couldn't possibly bite anyone—now, <i>could</i> he?</p> +<p><i>Assistant. I</i> dunno, Mum. You take 'im to see the Board of +Agriculture. <i>They'll</i> give you an opinion on 'im. <i>(To +Staff Officer who approaches)</i> Sorry, Sir, but our stock of +muzzles—</p> +<p><i>Staff Officer.</i> All I want is a new leather band for this +wrist-watch. Got one?</p> +<p><i>Assistant (with joy).</i> Thank 'eaven I <i>'ave</i>! Gaw +bless the Army!</p> +<p>F.A.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page349" id="page349"></a>[pg +349]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/349.png"><img width="100%" src="images/349.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Helen's elder Sister.</i> "YOU KNOW, ALL THE STARS ARE WORLDS +LIKE OURS."</p> +<p><i>Helen.</i> "WELL, I SHOULDN'T LIKE TO LIVE ON ONE—IT +WOULD BE SO HORRID WHEN IT TWINKLED."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE REVOLT.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There is a cupboard underneath the stair</p> +<p class="i2">Where moth and rust hold undisputed sway,</p> +<p>And here is hid my old civilian wear,</p> +<p class="i2">And my wife sits and plays with it all day,</p> +<p>Since Peace is imminent and, I'm advised,</p> +<p>Even the bard may be demobilised.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>She is a woman who was clearly born</p> +<p class="i2">To be the monarch of a helpless male;</p> +<p>And when she says, "This overcoat is torn,"</p> +<p class="i2">"These flannel trousers are beyond the pale,"</p> +<p>"You can't be seen in any of those shirts,"</p> +<p>I acquiesce, but, goodness, how it hurts.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>For they are rich with memories of Peace,</p> +<p class="i2">The soiled habiliments my lady loathes.</p> +<p>I do not long for trousers with a crease;</p> +<p class="i2">I <i>do not want</i> another crowd of +clothes—</p> +<p>Particularly as you have to pay</p> +<p>Seventeen guineas for a suit to-day.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>We are but worms, we husbands; yet 'tis said,</p> +<p class="i2">When the sad worm lies broken and at bay,</p> +<p>There comes a moment when the thing sees red,</p> +<p class="i2">And one such moment has occurred to-day;</p> +<p>"Look at this hat," I said, "this old top-hat;</p> +<p>I will not wear another one like that.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"This is the hat I purchased in the High,</p> +<p class="i2">Still crude and young and ignorant of sin;</p> +<p>I wooed you in this hat—I don't know why;</p> +<p class="i2">This is the hat that I was married in;</p> +<p>In it I walked on Sunday through the parks,</p> +<p>And even then the people made remarks.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Now it is dead—the last of all its line—</p> +<p class="i2">Nothing like this shall mar the poet's Peace;</p> +<p>What have the nations fought for, wet and fine,</p> +<p class="i2">If not that ancient tyrannies should cease?</p> +<p>What use the Crowns of Europe coming croppers</p> +<p>If we are still to be the slaves of 'toppers'?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"It speaks to me of many an ancient sore—</p> +<p class="i2">Of calls and cards and Sunday afternoon;</p> +<p>Of hideous wanderings from door to door</p> +<p class="i2">And choking necks and patent-leather shoon;</p> +<p>'The War is won,' as Mr. ASQUITH said,</p> +<p>And all these evils are or should be dead.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"It moves me not that other men with wives</p> +<p class="i2">Have fall'n already in the old abyss,</p> +<p>Have let their women ruin all their lives</p> +<p class="i2">And ordered new atrocities like this.</p> +<p>President WILSON will have missed success</p> +<p>If other men determine how I dress.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Yonder there hangs the helmet of a Hun,</p> +<p class="i2">And I will hang this horror at its side;</p> +<p>Twin symbols of an epoch which is done,</p> +<p class="i2">These shall remind our children——" My +wife sighed,</p> +<p>"You'll have to get another one, I fear;"</p> +<p>And all I said was, "Very well, my dear."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>A.P.H.</p> +<hr /> +<h4>Commercial Candour.</h4> +<p>Notice in a cobbler's window:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"Will customers please bring their own paper for repairs?"</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Miss Carnegie wore a gown of white satin and point +appliqué lace, with a lace veil falling from a light brown +coiffeur almost to the end of the train."—<i>Daily +Mirror</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It doesn't say whether the light-brown coiffeur was a page or +the best man.</p> +<hr /> +<p>From an account of the British sailors' reception in +Paris:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"Sous les clamations de la foule, les marins gagnent par les +Champs-Elysées, la rue Royale et le boulevard Malesherbes, +le Lycée Carnot, où M. Breakfast les +attend."—<i>French Local Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Hospitality personified!</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page350" id="page350"></a>[pg +350]</span> +<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2> +<center> +<p>"BUSINESS BEFORE PLEASURE."</p> +</center> +<p>The return of <i>Abe Potash</i> and <i>Mawruss Perlmutter</i> to +London is not an event to be regarded indifferently. The +light-hearted pair have evidently been through some anxious times. +<i>Rosie Potash</i> can never have been a very easy woman to live +with. She has not improved. And now that she has infected <i>Ruth +Perlmutter</i> with her morbid jealousies the alert and as yet +unbroken <i>Mawruss</i> begins to know something of what his +long-suffering, not to say occasionally abject, partner, +<i>Abe</i>, has had to endure these many years.</p> +<p>It was bad enough in the dress business. But now they have gone +into films it is indefinitely worse. Every reasonable person must +know that you can't produce really moving pictures without an +immense amount of late office hours, dining and supping out and +that sort of thing, a fact which the <i>Rosies</i> and <i>Ruths</i> +of this world can't be expected to appreciate. So that it would be +as well, think the ingenuous <i>entrepreneurs</i>, if <i>The Fatal +Murder</i> were, so far as the ladies' parts are concerned, cast +from members of the two households. Besides, what an excellent way +of keeping the money in the family. However <i>The Fatal Murder</i> +is a dud; <i>Rosie</i> and <i>Ruth</i> are not the right shape; and +film acting, with the necessary pep, is not a thing you can just +acquire by wishing so.</p> +<p>What is wanted, says the voluble young hustler in the firm, who +alone seems to know anything of the business, is real actresses as +distinguished from members of the directors' families, and above +all a good vampire. A vampire is the very immoral and under-dressed +type of woman that wrecks hearts and homes, and without which no +film with a high moral purpose is conceivable. You must have +shadows to throw up the light. And on this principle all the uplift +and moral instruction of that potent instrument of grace, the +cinematograph, is based—a fact which will not have escaped +the notice of cinema-goers.</p> +<p>When <i>Rita Sismondi</i> appears in an evil Futurist +black-and-white gown by Viola you can tell at once she is the +goods. But naturally <i>Abe's</i> first thought is, "What will +<i>Rosie</i> say?" His second, shared by <i>Mawruss</i>: "Hang +<i>Rosie</i>! We shall both like this lady." Finances are not +flourishing, but the crooked manager of the very unbusinesslike +bank that is financing the P. and P. Film Co. harbours designs on +the virtue of <i>Rita</i>, who has this commodity in a measure +unusual with film vampires (or usual, I forget which), and is just +a slightly adventurous prude out for a good time. He accordingly +advances more money for <i>The Guilty Dollar</i> on condition that +<i>Rita</i> be engaged, and yet more money on condition that she be +not fired by any machinations of jealous wives.</p> +<p><i>Rosie</i>, indeed, says a good deal when she turns up at a +rehearsal and finds the vampire clad in the third of a gown +hazardously suspended on her gracious shoulders by bead straps, and +<i>Mawruss</i> and <i>Abe</i> demonstrating how in their opinion +the kissing scenes should be conducted so as to make a really +notable production. However, the vampire's film vices make the +success of the company, and her private virtues bring all to a +happy ending.</p> +<p>The story need hardly concern us. It is not plausible, which +matters nothing at all. Mr. YORKE and Mr. LEONARD are the essential +outfit, and it seems to me they are better than ever. One simply +<i>has</i> to laugh, louder and oftener than is seemly for a +self-respecting Englishman. No doubt their authors, Messrs. GLASS +and GOODMAN, give them plenty of good things to say, but it is the +astonishing finish and precision of their technique which make +their work so pleasant to watch. If it throws into awkward relief +the amateurishness of some of their associates that can't be +helped. Miss VERA GORDON'S <i>Rosie</i> is a good performance, and +Miss JULIA BRUNS, the vampire, seemed to me to make with +considerable skill and subtlety a real character (within the limits +allowed by the farcical nature of the scheme) out of what might +easily have been uninvitingly crude.</p> +<p>T.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>OUR FRIEND THE FISH.</h2> +<p>"What is a sardine?" was a question much before the Courts some +few years ago, not unprofitably for certain gentlemen wearing silk, +and the correct solution I never heard; but I can supply, from +personal observation, one answer to the query, and that is, "An +essential ingredient in London humour." For without this small but +sapid fish—whatever he may really be, whether denizen of the +Sardinian sea, immature Cornish pilchard, or mere plebeian sprat +well oiled—numbers of our fellow-men and fellow-women, with +all the will in the world, might never raise a laugh. As it is, +thanks to his habit of lying in excessive compression within his +tin tabernacle, and the prevalence in these congested days of too +many passengers on the Tubes, on the Underground and in the +omnibuses, whoever would publicly remove gravity has but to set up +the sardine comparison and be rewarded.</p> +<p>Why creatures so remote from man as fishes—cold-blooded +inhabitants of an element in which man exists only so long as he +keeps on the surface; mute, incredible and incapable of exchanging +any intercourse with him—why these should provide the +Cockney, the dweller in the citiest City of the world, with so much +of the material of jocoseness is an odd problem. But they do. +Herrings, when cured either by smoke or sun, notoriously contribute +to the low comedian's success. The mere word "kipper" has every +girl in the gallery in a tittering ecstasy. But outside the Halls +it is the sardine that conquers.</p> +<p>In one day this week I witnessed the triumph of the sardine on +three different occasions, and it was always hearty and +complete.</p> +<p>The first time was in a lift at Chancery Lane. It is not +normally a very busy station, but our attendant having, as is now +the rule, talked too long with the attendant of a neighbouring +lift, we were more than full before the descent began. We were also +cross and impatient, the rumble, from below, of trains that we +might just us well be in doing nothing to steady our nerves.</p> +<p>But help came—and came from that strange quarter the +mighty ocean, from Chancery Lane so distant! "Might as well," said +a burly labourer (or, for all I know, burly receiver of +unemployment dole)—"might as well be sardines in a tin!"</p> +<p>Straightway we all laughed and viewed our lost time with more +serenity.</p> +<p>Later I was in a 'bus in Victoria Street, on its way to the +Strand. As many persons were inside, seated or standing on their +own and on others' feet, as it should be permitted to hold, but +still another two were let in by the harassed conductress.</p> +<p>"I say, Miss," said the inevitable wag, who was one of the +standing passengers, "steady on. We're more than full up already, +you know. Do you take us for sardines?"</p> +<p>And again mirth rocked us.</p> +<p>Finally, that night I was among the stream of humanity which +pours down Villiers Street from the theatres for half-an-hour or so +between 10.40 and 11.10, all in some mysterious way to be absorbed +into the trains or the trams and conveyed home. After some +desperate struggles on Charing Cross platform I found myself a +suffering unit in yet another dense throng in a compartment going +West; and again, amid delighted merriment, some one likened us to +sardines.</p> +<p>It is not much of a joke, but you will notice that it so seldom +fails that one wonders why any effort is ever made to invent a +better.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page351" id="page351"></a>[pg +351]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/351.png"><img width="100%" src="images/351.png" alt= +"" /></a></div> +<p>"I DIDN'T KNOW YOU KNEW THE FUNNY MAN, SIS."</p> +<p>"I DIDN'T. BUT BY THE TIME I DISCOVERED THAT I +DIDN'T—WELL, I DID."</p> +<hr /> +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> +<p><i>(By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.)</i></p> +<p><i>Madam Constantia</i> (LONGMANS) is a war story, but of an +earlier and more picturesque war. A simple tale, I am bound to call +it, revolving entirely round a situation not altogether unknown to +fiction, in which the hero and heroine, being of opposite sides, +love and fight one another simultaneously. Actually the scene is +set during the American struggle for independence, thus providing a +sufficiency of pomp and circumstance in the way of fine uniforms +and pretty frocks; and the protagonists are <i>Captain Carter</i>, +of the British service, and <i>Constantia Wilmer</i>, daughter of +the American who had captured him. Perhaps you may recall that the +identical campaign has already provided a very similar position +(reversed) in <i>Miss Elizabeth's Prisoner</i>. It is only a +deserved tribute to the skill with which Mr. JEFFERSON CARTER has +told this adventure of his namesake to admit that I am left with an +uncertainty, not usual to the reviewing experience, whether it is +in fact a true or an imagined affair. In any event its development +follows a well-trodden path. We have the captive, jealous in +honour, susceptible and exasperatingly Quixotic, doubly enchained +by his word and the charms of his fair wardress; the lady's +conspicuous ill-treatment of him at the first, a slight mystery, +some escapes and counterplots, and on the appointed page the +matrimonial finish that hardly the most pessimistic reader can ever +have felt as other than assured. Fact or fiction, you may spend an +agreeable hour in watching the course of <i>Captain Carter's</i> +courtship overcoming its rather obvious obstacles.</p> +<hr /> +<p>Because I have so great an admiration for their beneficent +activities, I have always wanted to meet a novel with a lot about +dentists in it, and now Miss DOROTHY M. RICHARDSON, in <i>The +Tunnel</i> (DUCKWORTH), has satisfied my desire. Dentists—a +houseful of them—spittoons, revolving basins; patients going +upstairs with sinking feelings; wondering at the pattern on the +wallpaper; going down triumphant. Teeth. Appointment books. +Dentists everywhere. This is not a quotation, but very like one, +for Miss RICHARDSON affects the modern manner. Though one of the +dentists is quite the most agreeable person in the book, he isn't +the hero, because the author is much too clever to have anything of +the sort. Her method, exploited some time ago in that remarkable +book, <i>Pointed Roofs</i>, is to get right inside one <i>Miriam +Henderson</i> and keep on writing out her thoughts with as little +explanation of her circumstances as possible, so that <i>The +Tunnel</i>, to anyone who has missed the earlier books, must be +very nearly unintelligible. Even the sincere admirer of Miss +RICHARDSON'S talent will begin to wonder how many more books at the +present rate of progress must be required to bring <i>Miriam</i> +to, say, threescore years and ten. My own belief is that if her +creator is ever so ill-advised as to put her beneath a 'bus or drop +her down a lift-well, she herself will be gone too; and for that I +should be sorry, since I agree with almost all the nice things Miss +MAY SINCLAIR says of the earlier books in an appreciation here +reprinted from <i>The Egoist</i>. Miss RICHARDSON has evolved a way +of writing a novel which somehow suggests the Futurist way of +painting a picture; but <i>The Tunnel</i> has left me wondering +whether she has not carried her method a little too far. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page352" id="page352"></a>[pg +352]</span> It seems to me that some of her heroine's thoughts were +not worth recording; but perhaps when another four or five books +have been added to <i>Miriam's</i> life-history I may discover what +the scheme may be that lies behind them all, and change my +mind.</p> +<hr /> +<p>More than once before this I have enjoyed the dexterity of Miss +VIOLET HUNT in a certain type of social satire; but I regret to say +that the expectation with which I opened <i>The Last Ditch</i> +(STANLEY PAUL) was doomed to some disappointment. The idea was +promising enough—a study of our British best people +confronting the ordeal of world-war; but somehow it failed to +capture me. For one reason it is told in a series of +letters—a dangerous method at any time. As usual, these are +far too long and literary to be genuine; though they keep up a +rather irritating pretence of reality by repetitions of the same +events in correspondence from different writers. Moreover, letters +whose concern is the progress of recruiting or the novelty of war +can hardly at this time avoid an effect of having been delayed in +the post. But all this would have mattered little if Miss HUNT had +chosen her aristocrats from persons in whom it was possible to take +more interest. But the plain fact is that you never met so tedious +a set. They are not witty; they are not even wicked to any +significant extent. They simply produce (at least in my case) no +effect whatever. Perhaps this may all be of intention; the author +may have meant to harrow us with the spectacle of our old nobility +expiring as nonentities. But in that case the picture is manifestly +unfair. And it is certainly dull—dull as the last +ditch-water.</p> +<hr /> +<p>In <i>America in France</i> (MURRAY) Lieut. Col. FREDERICK +PALMER, a member of the Staff Corps of the United States Army, sets +out to tell the story of the making of an army. This is the first +book by Colonel PALMER that has come my way, but I find that he has +written four others, all of which I judge by their titles to be +concerned with the War. Be that as it may, I welcome <i>America in +France</i> both because it gives a narrative of America's +tremendous effort, and because the book is written with a modesty +which is very pleasing. America came to the job of fighting as a +learner. Her soldiers did not boast of what they were going to do, +but sat down solidly to learn, in order that she might be useful in +the fighting-line. How she achieved her purpose the world now +knows. If any fault is to be found with the author's style, it is +that the limpidity and evenness of its flow make great events less +easy of distinction than perhaps they might be; but most people +will hail this as a merit rather than a fault, and I agree with +them. Colonel PALMER records the names of the first three Americans +who died fighting. The French General to whose unit they were +attached ordered a ceremonial parade and made a speech in which he +asked that the mortal remains of these young men be left in France. +"We will," he continued, "inscribe on their tombs, 'Here lie the +first soldiers of the United States to fall on the soil of France +for Justice and Liberty' ... Corporal Gresham, Private Enright, +Private Hay, in the name of France I thank you." As another matter +of historical interest it may be stated that the first shot of the +War on the American side was fired by Battery C of the 6th Field +Artillery, "without waiting on going into position at the time set. +The men dragged a gun forward in the early morning of October 23rd, +and sent a shell at the enemy. There was no particular target. The +aim was in the general direction of Berlin. The gun has been sent +to West Point as a relic."</p> +<hr /> +<p>I must assume that <i>Such Stuff as Dreams</i> (MURRAY) was +written by C.E.W. LAWRENCE with a purpose, but it remains obscure +to me. A smart young married clerk in the oil business falls off +the top of a bus on to his head and, from a confirmed materialist, +becomes something not unlike a confirmed lunatic, with a faculty +for seeing flaming emanations which enable him to place the owners +of them in the true scale of human and spiritual values. He +discovers that his wife's uncle, a whimsical but essentially +tedious drunkard, is a better man than the egregious New +Religionist pastor—a discovery I made for myself without +falling off a bus. I was forced to the conclusion that these and +equally dull, or duller, folk must exist or have existed, and that +it could not possibly have been necessary to invent them. And if I +am right then it obviously needs a greater sympathy than I can +command to do justice to this type of narrative, with its +presuppositions and inferences. Sir A. CONAN DOYLE has much to +answer for.</p> +<hr /> +<p>I do not remember the precise number of murders which occur in +<i>Droonin' Watter</i> (ALLEN AND UNWIN), but readers of this +sensational story can accept my assurance that Mr. J.S. FLETCHER +has a quick and decisive way of meting out justice (or injustice) +to his characters. In fact, from the very start, when a man with a +black patch over his eye walks into Berwick-upon-Tweed and takes +lodgings with <i>Mrs. Moneylaws</i> (the mother of the man who +tells the tale), the pace is red-hot. It is easy enough to discover +improbabilities in such a yarn as this, but the only important +question is whether one wants to discover what happens in the end, +and I confess without a blush that I did want to follow Mr. J.S. +FLETCHER to the last page. Let me however beg him in his next book +to give the word "yon" a rest; four "yons" in eleven lines is a +clear case of overcrowding; and I invite the attention of the +Limited Labour Party to this scandal.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:65%;"><a href= +"images/352.png"><img width="100%" src="images/352.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Young Sub (a very earnest pilgrim).</i> "PLEASE SEND A LARGE +BUNCH OF ROSES TO THE ADDRESS ON THAT CARD AND CHARGE IT TO +ME."</p> +<p><i>Florist.</i> "YES, SIR—AND YOUR NAME?"</p> +<p><i>Sub.</i> "OH, NEVER MIND MY NAME—SHE'LL +UNDERSTAND."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Any owner whose dog shows signs of illness should be chained up +securely."—<i>Bradford Daily Argus</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And every other <i>Argus</i> will say the same.</p> +<br /> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11429 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/11429-h/images/333.png b/11429-h/images/333.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..883c3ff --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/333.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/335.png b/11429-h/images/335.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e72b5e --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/335.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/336.png b/11429-h/images/336.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..45a5767 --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/336.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/337.png b/11429-h/images/337.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3cd3dcd --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/337.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/338.png b/11429-h/images/338.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0047060 --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/338.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/339.png b/11429-h/images/339.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2351501 --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/339.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/341.png b/11429-h/images/341.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e385c27 --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/341.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/342.png b/11429-h/images/342.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..188e79d --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/342.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/343.png b/11429-h/images/343.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b822734 --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/343.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/345.png b/11429-h/images/345.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5dc5add --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/345.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/346.png b/11429-h/images/346.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ebc9b9e --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/346.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/347.png b/11429-h/images/347.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ff40698 --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/347.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/348.png b/11429-h/images/348.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e46d1bc --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/348.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/349.png b/11429-h/images/349.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb21374 --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/349.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/351.png b/11429-h/images/351.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f48b97e --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/351.png diff --git a/11429-h/images/352.png b/11429-h/images/352.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fa17508 --- /dev/null +++ b/11429-h/images/352.png |
