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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, September 8th, 1920 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: October 14, 2005 [EBook #16877] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Keith Edkins and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 159.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>September 8th, 1920.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>[pg 181]</span> + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + + <p>There are rumours of Prohibition in Scotland. We can only say that if + Scotland goes dry it will also go South.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>By an order of the <font class="sc">Food Controller</font> rice has + been freed from all restrictions as regards use. This drastic attempt to + stem the prevailing craze for matrimony has not come a moment too + soon.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>We suppose it is due to pressure of business, but the Spanish Cabinet + has not resigned this week.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p><i>The Daily Mail</i> is offering one hundred pounds for the best new + hat for men. The cocked hat into which Mr. <font + class="sc">Smillie</font> hopes to knock the country is, of course, + excluded from the competition.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>A horse at Chichester has been run down by a train. Asked how he came + to catch up with the horse the driver said he just let her rip.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Despite the repeated reports of his resignation in the London papers, + Mr. <font class="sc">Davis</font>, the American Ambassador to Britain, + states that he does not intend to retire. This contempt for English + newspapers will be justifiably resented.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Mrs. <font class="sc">Lillian Russell</font>, of Rockland, Mass., is + reported to have offered to sell her husband for twenty thousand pounds. + It is a great consolation to those of us who are husbands that they are + fetching such high prices.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>The road-menders in Oxford Street who went on strike have now resumed + work. The discovery was made by a spectator who saw one of them move.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>A contemporary reports the prospect of fair weather for another three + weeks. It looks as if Mr. <font class="sc">Smillie</font> is going to + have a fine day for it after all.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>A New York message states that the congregation of a New Jersey church + pelted the Rev. F.S. <font class="sc">Kopfmann</font> with eggs. This is + disgraceful with eggs at their present price.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>We have just heard of a Scotsman who has a pre-<font + class="sc">Geddes</font> railway time-table for sale, present owner + having no further use for it.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>It is stated in scientific circles that the present weather is due to + the Gulf Stream. This relieves Mr. <font class="sc">Churchill</font> of + considerable responsibility.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>"The length of a bee's sting," says <i>Tit Bits</i>, "is only one + thirty-second of an inch." We are grateful for this information because + when we are being stung we are always too busy to measure for + ourselves.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Those who maintain that nothing good ever comes from Russia have + suffered a nasty slap in the face. A news message states that the + Bolshevists have invited Mr. <font class="sc">Smillie</font> to visit + Petrograd.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>"Horsehair coats have made their appearance," says <i>The + Outfitter</i>. Surely this is nothing very new. We have often seen horses + wearing them.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>A man who stole the same fowls twice has been charged at Grimsby. He + pleads that his bookkeeper omitted to enter them in the day-book the + first time.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>It is now being hinted in political circles that Mr. <font + class="sc">William Brace</font>, M.P., has consented to bequeath his + moustache to the nation.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Mr. <font class="sc">Smillie</font> was much heartened by the news + from Lucerne that the <font class="sc">Prime Minister</font> had climbed + down the Rigi in three hours.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>As a result of the new rise in the price of petrol many of the + middle-class have been compelled to turn down their automatic + cigarette-lighters.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Although we may appear to be a little previous, we have it on good + authority that Mr. <font class="sc">Bottomley</font> is already making + arrangements to predict that the approaching coal-strike will end before + Christmas.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>The various attempts to swim or cycle across the Channel having proved + unsuccessful, we hear that interest is again being revived in the + proposed Channel Tunnel.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>It is rumoured that Councillor <font class="sc">Clark</font> has + recently purchased a large consignment of Government flannel, in order to + provide adequate underclothing for mixed bathers.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>A large quantity of rusty piano wire, says a news item, has been found + in a valuable milch cow at Boston, Lines. There is hope that the "Tune + the Cow Died of" may now be positively identified.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>According to a sporting paper there is a great shortage of referees + this season. The offer to receive any member of this profession into the + ranks of the Royal Irish Constabulary without further qualifications is + no doubt responsible for fifty per cent. of the loss, whilst fair wear + and tear probably account for the remainder.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>"It is high time," writes a correspondent in <i>The Daily Mail</i>, + "that a clearly defined waist-line should be reintroduced into feminine + dress." Others claim that as the neck-line is now worn round the waist + the reintroduction of a waist-line elsewhere can only lead to + confusion.</p> + +<hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/174.png"><img width="100%" src="images/174.png" + alt="What sort of painter?" /></a> + <p><i>Insurance Clerk</i> (<i>taking personal particulars of + prospective policy-holder</i>). "<font class="sc">And what is your + profession, Sir?</font>"</p> + + <p><i>Artist.</i> "<font class="sc">Painter.</font>"</p> + + <p><i>Clerk.</i> "<font class="sc">What sort of painter?</font>"</p> + + <p><i>Artist.</i> "<font class="sc">Splendid.</font>"</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h4>The Coal Strike.</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>"The part of the public is to keep cool."—<i>The Times.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>A strike should make this fairly easy.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>From the advertisement of a "Unique Battlefields Tour":—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>"Passports and Visors obtained and annoyances reduced to a + minimum."—<i>Daily Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>Then why this knightly precaution?</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>[pg 182]</span> + +<h2>A COUP FOR "THE DAILY TRAIL."</h2> + + <p>We all knew at the office that Micklebrown had gone to Cocklesea for + his holiday. If anyone had offered him a free pass to the Italian lakes + or any other delectable spot Micklebrown would have declined it and taken + his third return to Cocklesea. Like Sir <font class="sc">Walter + Raleigh</font> when he started for South America to find a gold-mine, + Micklebrown had an object in view. He hoped to discover a topaz in + Cocklesea. We knew the reason for this optimism. We had been shown the + lizard-brooch, a dazzling thing of gold and precious stones, which + Micklebrown had picked up last Bank Holiday on the cliff at Cocklesea and + presented to his <i>fiancée</i>, Miss Twitter, after inquiry at the + police-station had failed to discover its owner.</p> + + <p>Most people would have been satisfied to leave well alone, but + Micklebrown is a man who hankers after the little more. The lizard's tail + was composed of topaz stones, and from its tip one topaz was obviously + missing. "My firm impression is that I did the damage when I trod on it," + Micklebrown said. "You see I put my foot right slap on the thing. I can't + get it out of my head that that topaz stuck in the mud and it's sticking + there to this day. Anyway I go to Cocklesea for my holiday to look. I + know the very identical spot." He closed his eyes the better to visualize + it. "You go up a little path behind the mixed-bathing boxes, turn sharp + to the right at the top of the cliff, past two pine-trees and a clump of + gorse, go a trifle inland through a lot of thistles until you come on + three blackberry bushes; the topaz should be ten inches south-west of the + middle one."</p> + + <p>"The colour'll be a bit washed out, won't it?" young Lister said; + "we've had a lot of rain since Bank Holiday."</p> + + <p>Micklebrown's lip curled but he said nothing. Only to us, his + intimates, did he confide that he had no expectation of finding the topaz + on the surface; he expected to search through several strata of mud, and + he was taking a magnifying-glass and a gravy-strainer with him.</p> + + <p>We heard nothing further until I had a postcard from him saying that + the rain had caused the blackberries so to multiply that he found it + impossible to identify the particular bush near which he had stepped on + the lizard; he was therefore making a general search over the area. After + that we followed the tale in <i>The Daily Trail</i>:—</p> + +<p class="center"><font class="sc">Seaside Visitor's Strange Conduct</font>.</p> + + <p>Much curiosity has been aroused at Cocklesea by the behaviour of a + visitor who spends his days on the cliff burrowing in the earth in all + weathers. Speculation is rife as to the object of his occupation. It is + generally concluded that he is the victim of shell-shock.</p> + +<p class="center"><font class="sc">Romantic Disclosure by Cocklesea +Cliff Burrower</font>.</p> + + <p>In conversation with our representative yesterday Mr. Micklebrown, + whose burrowing on the cliff at Cocklesea has been observed with such + interest, indignantly denied the imputation of shell-shock. Mr. + Micklebrown, it appears, is spending his vacation at Cocklesea in the + hope of recovering a topaz which formed part of a valuable piece of + jewellery which he had the good fortune to pick up on the cliff on Bank + Holiday. Being anxious to notify his discovery without delay to the + police (who however failed to trace the owner) and being bound to catch + the return steamer, Mr. Micklebrown had no opportunity to prosecute a + search at the time. He therefore determined to visit Cocklesea again at + the earliest opportunity to do so.</p> + + <p>In the meanwhile Miss Rosalind Twitter, Mr. Micklebrown's + <i>fiancée</i>, is the happy possessor of the ornament. Interviewed by a + correspondent, Miss Twitter, a winsome dark-eyed brunette in a cretonne + chemise frock, said, "Yes, it is quite true that I sleep with it under my + pillow. I hope Dinky (Rosalind's pet name for her lover) will find the + topaz; he is a dear painstaking boy. I have never had such a lovely piece + of jewellery in my life and I am going to be married in it." (Photo of + Miss Twitter on back page. Inset (1) The brooch; (2) Mr. + Micklebrown.)</p> + +<p class="center"><font class="sc">Search for Missing Topaz at +Cocklesea</font>.</p> + + <p>Owing to the publicity given to his story by <i>The Daily Trail</i> + hundreds of willing hands assisted Mr. Micklebrown in his search + yesterday. Pickaxes, shovels and wooden spades were being freely wielded + on the cliff. Miss Twitter writes to us: "Every moment I expect a + telegram from Dinky that the topaz is found. I can never be grateful + enough to <i>The Daily Trail</i> for the interest it has taken in my + brooch."</p> + +<p class="center"><font class="sc">Dramatic Sequel To Search For +Cocklesea Topaz</font>.</p> + + <p>As a result of the wide circulation of <i>The Daily Trail</i> the + brooch picked up by Mr. Micklebrown on the cliff on Bank Holiday has been + claimed by Miss Ivy Peckaby, of Wimbledon. Miss Peckaby identified the + brooch from the photograph which appeared in our issue of Friday. + Conversing with our representative, Miss Peckaby, a slim, golden-haired + girl in hand-knitted cerise jumper with cream collar and cuffs, said, "I + jumped for joy when I recognised my darling brooch on your picture page. + I must have lost it at Cocklesea on Bank Holiday, but I didn't miss it + until two Sundays afterwards. I shall never forget what I owe to <i>The + Daily Trail</i>."</p> + + <p>Questioned as to the missing topaz Miss Peckaby sighed. "It has always + been missing," she said. "You see, Clarence" (Miss Peckaby's affianced + husband) "bought the brooch second-hand; he is going to have another + topaz put in when he can afford it; but topazes are so dreadfully dear." + (Photo of Miss Peckaby recognising her brooch on the back page of <i>The + Daily Trail</i>.)</p> + +<p class="center"><font class="sc">Last Chapter in Cocklesea Romance</font>.</p> + +<p class="center"><font class="sc">Free Gift of a Topaz by <i>The Daily Trail</i></font>.</p> + + <p>Yesterday Miss Ivy Peckaby was the happy recipient of a topaz at the + hands of a representative of <i>The Daily Trail</i>. The stone, which is + of magnificent colour and quality, is the free gift of <i>The Daily + Trail</i>. <i>The Daily Trail</i> is also defraying the entire cost of + setting the gem in Miss Peckaby's brooch. Photo on back page of Miss + Peckaby acknowledging <i>The Daily Trail's</i> free gift of a topaz. + Inset: The topaz.)</p> + + <p>I have heard nothing further from Micklebrown.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3><i>RARA AVIS.</i></h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Many birds there be that bards delight in;</p> + <p class="i2">I to one my tribute verse would bring;</p> + <p>Patience, reader! no, it's not the nightin-</p> + <p class="i4">gale I'm going to sing.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sweet to lie at ease and for a while hark</p> + <p class="i2">To a "spirit that was never bird;"</p> + <p>Still I don't propose to sing the skylark,</p> + <p class="i4">As perhaps inferred.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I'm content to leave it to a fitter</p> + <p class="i2">Tongue than mine to hymn the "moan of doves,"</p> + <p>Or the swallow, apt to "cheep and twitter</p> + <p class="i4">Twenty million loves."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I'm intrigued by no precocious rook, who</p> + <p class="i2">Haunts the high hall garden calling "Maud;"</p> + <p>Mine's no "blithe newcomer" like the cuckoo</p> + <p class="i4">Wordsworth used to laud.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Never could the blackbird or the throstle</p> + <p class="i2">(From the poet each has had his due)</p> + <p>Win from me such perfectly colossal</p> + <p class="i4">Gratitude as you.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You, I mean, accommodating partridge,</p> + <p class="i2">By some lucky chance (the only one,</p> + <p>Spite of much expenditure of cartridge)</p> + <p class="i4">Fallen to my gun.</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>[pg 183]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/176.png"><img width="100%" src="images/176.png" + alt="OUT OF THE FRYING PAN." /></a> + <h3>OUT OF THE FRYING PAN.</h3> + + <p><font class="sc">War Veteran.</font> "THEY TOLD ME I WAS FIGHTING + FOR DEAR LIFE, BUT I NEVER DREAMT IT WAS GOING TO BE AS DEAR AS ALL + THIS."</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page184" id="page184"></a>[pg 184]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/177.png"><img width="100%" src="images/177.png" + alt="I used to play quite a lot of cricket." /></a> + <div class="i16"> + <p><i>Father.</i> "<font class="sc">Oh, yes, I used to play quite a lot + of cricket. I once made forty-seven.</font>"</p> + + <p><i>Son.</i> "<font class="sc">What—with a hard ball, + Father?</font>"</p> + </div> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h2>THE HUMAN CITY AND SUBURBAN.</h2> + + <p>The idea and the name for it were the invention of the ingenious + Piggott. I am his first initiate, and with the zeal of the neophyte I am + endeavouring to make his discovery more widely known. The game, which is + healthy and invigorating, can be carried on in any of the remoter + suburbs, where the train-service is not too frequent. All that is + required is a fairly long and fairly straight piece of road, terminating + in a railway-station, and a sufficiency of City men of suitable age and + rotundity.</p> + + <p>The scheme is based on the Herd instinct—on the tendency of most + creatures to follow their leader. For example, if you are walking down to + your early train, with plenty of time to spare as you suppose, and you + observe the man in front of you looking at his watch and suddenly + quickening his steps, first to a smart walk, then to a brisk jog-trot, it + is not in human nature, however you may trust your own watch, not to + follow suit. This is precisely what Piggott led me to do one morning + about six weeks back.</p> + + <p>When, on reaching the station ten minutes too early, I remonstrated + with him, he apologised.</p> + + <p>"I am sorry," he said; "I didn't know you were behind me. I was really + pace-making for 'Flyaway'—there, over there." And Piggott pointed + to a stoutish man with iron-grey whiskers mopping his forehead and the + inside of his hat, and looking incredulously at the booking-hall + clock.</p> + + <p>"But that is Mr. Bludyer, senior partner in Bludyer, Spinnaway & + Jevons," I said.</p> + + <p>"It may be," replied Piggott. "But I call him Flyaway. I find it more + convenient to have a stable-name for each of my racers." And he proceeded + to expound his invention to me.</p> + + <p>Like so many great inventors he had stumbled upon the idea by chance + one morning when his watch happened to be wrong; but he had developed the + inspiration with consummate art and skill. It became his diversion, by + means of the pantomime that had so successfully deceived me—by + dramatically shooting out his wrist, consulting his watch, instantly + stepping out and presently breaking into a run—to induce any + gentleman behind him who had reached an age when the fear of missing + trains has become an obsession to accelerate his progress.</p> + + <p>"It is amazing," he said, "how many knots you can get out of the + veriest old tubs. This morning, for instance, Flyaway has taken only a + little over six minutes to cover seven furlongs. That's the best I have + got out of him so far, but I hope to do better with some of the + others."</p> + + <p>"You keep more than one in training?" I questioned.</p> + + <p>"Several. If you like I will hand some over to you. Or, better still," + he added, "you might prefer to start a stable of your own. That would + introduce an element of competition. What about it?"</p> + + <p>I accepted with alacrity. The very next day I made a start, and within + a week I had a team of my own in training. The walk to the station, which + formerly had been the blackest hour of the twenty-four, I now looked + forward to with the liveliest impatience. Every morning saw me early on + the road, ready to loiter until I found in my wake some merchant sedately + making his way stationwards to whom I could set the pace. I always took + care, however, not to race the same one too frequently <span + class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>[pg 185]</span> or at + too regular intervals, and I take occasion to impress this caution on + beginners.</p> + + <p>In the train on the way to the City Piggott and I would compare notes, + carefully recording distances and times, and scoring points in my favour + or his. It would have been better perhaps had we contented ourselves with + this modest programme. Others will take warning from what befell. But + with the ambition of inexperience I suggested we should race two + competitors one against the other, and Piggott let himself be + overpersuaded.</p> + + <p>I entered my "Speedwell," a prominent stockjobber. Handicapped by the + frame of a <i>Falstaff</i>, he happily harbours within his girth a + susceptibility to panic, which, when appropriately stimulated, more than + compensates for his excess of bulk. The distance fixed was from the Green + Man to the station, a five-furlong scamper; the start to be by mutual + consent.</p> + + <p>Immediately on our interchange of signals I got my nominee in motion. + This is one of Speedwell's best points: he responds instantly to the + least sign, to the slightest touch of the spur, so to speak. Another is + staying power. Before we had gone fifty yards I had got him into an + ungainly amble, which he can keep up indefinitely. Though never rapid, it + devours the ground.</p> + + <p>Piggott was not so lucky. At the last minute he substituted for the + more reliable Flyaway his Tiny Tim, a dapper little solicitor, not more + than sixty, who to the timorousness of the hare unites some of her speed. + In fact, in his excess of terror he sometimes runs himself to a + standstill before the completion of the course. He suffers, moreover, + from short sight and in consequence is a notoriously bad starter. On the + morning in question he failed for several minutes to observe Piggott's + pantomime, and Speedwell had almost traversed half the distance while + Tiny Tim still lingered in the vicinity of the starting post. Only by the + most exaggerated gestures did Piggott get him off. Once going, however, + he took the bit in his teeth and went like the wind. Soon I caught the + pit-pat of his footfall approaching. I pulled Speedwell together for a + supreme effort. But there were still two hundred yards to cover as his + rival drew abreast. A terrific race ensued. Scared at the spectacle of + the other's alarm, each redoubled his exertions. Neck and neck they ran. + Could Tiny Tim last? Had he shot his bolt? Could Speedwell wear him + down?</p> + + <p>Unfortunately the question was never settled. As they raced they + overtook a group of business men, youngsters of forty or so, untried + colts that had never yet been run by Piggott or me. These suddenly took + fright and bolted. Inextricably mingled with our pair the whole lot + stampeded like a herd of mustangs. The station approach scintillated with + the flashing of spats as the Field breasted the rise. It was a grand + sight, though so many fouls occurred that it was obvious the race was + off. But things became serious when the entire crowd attempted to pass + simultaneously through the booking-hall doors. Speedwell sprained a + pastern and Tiny Tim sustained a severe kick on the fetlock. Both will + require a fortnight's rest before they can be raced again.</p> + + <p>This will be a warning to us and to others too, I hope. Still, it will + not deter us from racing in the future. Nor should it deter others, for + the sport is a glorious one and I hope it may become universal in the + outer suburbs. Piggott and I will be only too glad to give advice or any + other assistance that lies in our power to those who contemplate starting + local clubs in and around London.</p> + +<hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:66%;"> + <a href="images/178.png"><img width="100%" src="images/178.png" + alt="Och, I'm gey ill." /></a> + <p><i>Old Dame</i> (<i>to visitor who has been condoling with her on a + recent misfortune</i>). "<font class="sc">Och, I'm gey ill. I've been + cryin' sin' fower this mornin', an' I'm just gaun tae start agen as + soon's I've sippit this bicker o' parritch.</font>"</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>[pg 186]</span> + +<h2>WEDDING PRESENTS.</h2> + + <p>All day long I had been possessed by that odd feeling that comes over + one unaccountably at times, as of things being a little strange, + interesting—somehow different, so that I was not at all surprised + to find the Fairy Queen waiting for me when I entered my flat.</p> + + <p>It was a warm evening and she sat perched on the tassel of the blind, + lightly swaying to and fro in the tiny breeze that came dancing softly + over the house-tops.</p> + + <p>I saw her at once—one is always aware of the presence of the + Fairy Queen.</p> + + <p>I made my very best curtsey and she acknowledged it a little + absent-mindedly.</p> + + <p>"<i>I</i> want <i>your</i> advice this time," she said.</p> + + <p>I smiled and shook my head deprecatingly.</p> + + <p>"But how ...?" I began.</p> + + <p>"It's about Margery and Max," she continued.</p> + + <p>I was much astonished.</p> + + <p>"Margery and Max," I echoed slowly. "But surely there's no need to + trouble about them. It's a most delightful engagement. They're blissfully + happy. I saw Margery only yesterday ..."</p> + + <p>"Oh, the engagement's all right," said the Queen. "As a matter of fact + it was I who really arranged that affair. Of course they think they did + it themselves—people always do—but it would never have come + off without me. No, the trouble is I don't know what to give them for a + wedding present. You see I'm particularly fond of Margery; I've always + taken a great interest in her, and I do want them to have something + they'll really like. But it's so difficult. They have all the essential + things already: youth, health, good fortune, love of course; and I can't + go giving them motor-cars and grandfather clocks and unimportant things + of that kind. Now can I?"</p> + + <p>I agreed. As it happened I was in a somewhat similar predicament + myself, though from rather different causes.</p> + + <p>"Can't you think of <i>anything</i>?" she asked a little petulantly, + evidently annoyed at my inadequacy. I shook my head.</p> + + <p>"I can't," I said. "But why not find out from them? It's often done. + You might ask Margery what Max would like and then sound him about + her."</p> + + <p>The Queen brightened up. "What a good idea!" she said. "I'll go at + once." She's very impulsive.</p> + + <p>She was back again in half-an-hour, looking pleased and excited. Her + cheeks were like pink rose-leaves.</p> + + <p>"It's all right about Max," she said breathlessly. "Margery says the + only thing he wants frightfully badly is a really smashing service. He's + rather bothered about his. So I shall order one for him at once. I'm very + pleased; it seems such a suitable thing for a wedding present. People + often give services, don't they? And now I'll go and find Max." And she + was off before I could utter a sound.</p> + + <p>But this time when she returned it was evident that she had been less + successful.</p> + + <p>"It's absurd," she said, "perfectly absurd!" She stamped her foot, and + yet she was smiling a little. "I told him I would bestow upon Margery + anything he could possibly think of that she lacked. That any quality of + mind or heart, any beauty, any charm that a girl could desire, should be + hers as a gift. I assured him that there was nothing I could not and + would not do for her. And what do you think? He listened quite + attentively and politely—oh, Max has nice manners—and then he + looked me straight in the eyes and 'Thank you very much,' he said; 'it's + most awfully kind of you. I hope you won't think me ungrateful, but I'm + afraid I can't help you at all. There's nothing—nothing. + Margery—well, you see, Margery's perfect.' I was so annoyed with + him that I came away without saying another word. And now I'm no further + than I was before as regards Margery. Mortals really are very stupid. + It's most vexing."</p> + + <p>She paused a minute, then suddenly she looked up and flashed a smile + at me. "All the same it was rather darling of him, wasn't it?" she + said.</p> + + <p>I nodded. "I wonder ...," I began.</p> + + <p>"Yes?" interjected the Queen eagerly.</p> + + <p>"... I wonder whether you could give her that, just that for + always?"</p> + + <p>"What do you mean?" said the Queen.</p> + + <p>"I mean," I said slowly, "the gift of remaining perfect for ever in + his eyes."</p> + + <p>The Queen looked at me thoughtfully. "He'll think I'm not giving her + anything," she objected.</p> + + <p>"Never mind," I said, "she'll know."</p> + + <p>The Queen nodded. "Yes," she said meditatively, "rather + nice—rather nice. Thank you very much. I'll think about it. + Good-bye." She was gone.</p> + +<p class="author">R.F.</p> + +<hr /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"On Monday evening an employee of the —— Railway Loco. + Department dislocated his jaw while yawning."—<i>Local + Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>It is expected that the company will disclaim liability for the + accident, on the ground that he was yawning in his own time.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>NEW RHYMES FOR OLD CHILDREN.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8"><font class="sc">The Centipede.</font></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The centipede is not quite nice;</p> + <p>He lives in idleness and vice;</p> + <p class="i4">He has a hundred legs;</p> + <p>He also has a hundred wives,</p> + <p>And each of these, if she survives,</p> + <p class="i4">Has just a hundred eggs;</p> + <p>And that's the reason if you pick</p> + <p>Up any boulder, stone or brick</p> + <p class="i4">You nearly always find</p> + <p>A swarm of centipedes concealed;</p> + <p>They scatter far across the field,</p> + <p class="i4">But <i>one</i> remains behind.</p> + <p>And you may reckon then, my son,</p> + <p>That not alone that luckless one</p> + <p class="i4">Lies pitiful and torn,</p> + <p>But millions more of either sex—</p> + <p>100 multiplied by x—</p> + <p class="i4">Will never now be born.</p> + <p>I daresay it will make you sick,</p> + <p>But so does all Arithmetic.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The gardener says, I ought to add,</p> + <p>The centipede is not so bad;</p> + <p class="i4">He rather <i>likes</i> the brutes.</p> + <p>The millipede is what he loathes;</p> + <p>He uses fierce bucolic oaths</p> + <p class="i4">Because it eats his roots;</p> + <p>And every gardener is agreed</p> + <p>That, if you see a centipede</p> + <p class="i4">Conversing with a milli—,</p> + <p>On one of them you drop a stone,</p> + <p>The other one you leave alone—</p> + <p class="i4">I think that's rather silly.</p> + <p>They may be right, but what I say</p> + <p>Is, "Can one stand about all day</p> + <p class="i4">And <i>count</i> the creature's legs?"</p> + <p>It has too many, any way,</p> + <p>And any moment it may lay</p> + <p class="i4">Another hundred eggs;</p> + <p>So if I see a thing like this<sup>1</sup></p> + <p>I murmur, "Without prejudice,"</p> + <p class="i4">And knock it on the head;</p> + <p>And if I see a thing like that<sup>2</sup></p> + <p>I take a brick and squash it flat;</p> + <p class="i4">In either case it's dead.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i16">A.P.H.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<sup>1</sup>) and (<sup>2</sup>). There ought to be two pictures + here, one with a hundred legs and the other with about a thousand. I have + tried several artists, but most of them couldn't even get a hundred on to + the page, and those who did always had more legs on one side than the + other, which is quite wrong. So I have had to dispense with the + pictures.</p> + + </blockquote> +<hr /> + +<h4>Another Impending Apology.</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>"Ainsi parla l'éditeur du <i>Daily Herald</i>. Lord Lansbury a + toujours été l'enfant chéri et terrible du parti travailliste + anglais."—<i>Gazette de Lausanne.</i></p> + + </blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> +<p class="center">"<font class="sc">Wanted</font>.</p> + + <p>Small nicely furnished house, nice locality, for nearly married + couple, from August 1st."—<i>Johannesburg Star.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>We trust that no one encouraged them with accommodation.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>[pg 187]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/180.png"><img width="100%" src="images/180.png" + alt="THE MAKING OF A REFORMER." /></a> + <h3>THE MAKING OF A REFORMER.</h3> + + <p class="center">SHOWING THE INFECTIOUS INFLUENCE OF ORATORY.</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>[pg 188]</span> + +<h2>THE MUDFORD BLIGHT</h2>. + + <p>Mary settled her shoulders against the mantel-piece, slid her hands + into her pockets and looked down at her mother with faint apprehension in + her eyes.</p> + + <p>"I want," she remarked, "to go to London."</p> + + <p>Mrs. Martin rustled the newspaper uneasily to an accompanying glitter + of diamond rings. Mary's direct action slightly discomposed her, but she + replied amiably. "Well, dear, your Aunt Laura has just asked you to + Wimbledon for a fortnight in the Autumn."</p> + + <p>Mary did not move. "I want," she continued abstractedly, "to + <i>live</i> in London."</p> + + <p>Mrs. Martin glanced up at her daughter as if discrediting the + authorship of this remark. "I don't know what you are thinking of, + child," she said tartly, "but you appear to me to be talking nonsense. + Your father and I have no idea of leaving Mudford at present."</p> + + <p>"I want," Mary went on in the even tone of one hypnotised by a + foregone conclusion, "to go and live with Jennifer and + write—things."</p> + + <p>Mrs. Martin's gesture as she rose expressed as much horror as was + consistent with majesty.</p> + + <p>"My dear Mary," she said coldly, "let me dispose of your outrageous + suggestion before it goes any further. You appear to imagine that because + you have been earning a couple of hundred a year in the Air Force during + the War you are still of independent means. Allow me to remind you that + you are not. Also that your father and I are unable and unwilling to bear + the expenses of two establishments. Please consider the matter + closed."</p> + + <p>She swept from the room. Mary whistled softly to herself, then she + walked to the desk and wrote a letter.</p> + + <p>"... And that's that," she finished. "So now to business. I will send + you some articles at the end of the week, and for goodness' sake be + quick, because I can't stand this much longer."</p> + + <p>When she had posted it she retired to her room and was no more seen + till dinner.</p> + + <p>They were bright articles and, like measle-spots, they appeared + rapidly after ten days or a fortnight; unlike measles they seemed to be + permanent. They dealt irreverently with Mudford society, draped in a thin + veil of some alias material, and they signed themselves "Blight."</p> + + <p>"Disgraceful!" snorted Colonel Martin, throwing one crumpled newspaper + after another into the waste-paper basket. "Ought to be publicly burned! + As if it weren't enough to find the beastly things all over the Club, + without being pestered with them at home, making fun of the best people + in Mudford. Bolshevism! Fellow ought to be shot! Wish I knew who he was + and I'd do it myself. I <i>will not</i> have another word of this + poisonous stuff in my house. D'you hear, Gertrude?"</p> + + <p>Mrs. Martin trailed into the hall in search of her sunshade.</p> + + <p>"It's so difficult," she complained <i>en route</i>, "to know what + paper he's coming out in next and stop it in time;" and she wandered + mournfully into the garden.</p> + + <p>"Mary," she sighed, sinking into a chair on the lawn, "have you + noticed anything peculiar in the way people speak to us lately? Of course + it may be only my imagination, and yet," she hesitated, "Admiral and Lady + Rogers were quite—quite formal to me yesterday."</p> + + <p>Mary balanced her tennis racquet on her outstretched hand and laughed. + "It's the local Blight, I suppose. You and Father are about the only + people left who haven't been withered yet, and the others are bound to + think there's something suspicious about you. Stupid of me—I didn't + think of that. I'm sorry."</p> + + <p>Her mother started. "What do you mean?" she inquired sharply.</p> + + <p>Mary rose languidly. "However," she added graciously, "I will put that + right for you next week. I have several sketches that will do."</p> + + <p>Mrs. Martin's face registered inquiry, incredulity, indignation and + apoplexy in chronological order; then the garden gate clicked and a young + man walked across the lawn. Mary looked down at her mother and spoke + quietly.</p> + + <p>"I think it is time you knew that I wrote those articles. One writes + about what one sees, and as long as I remain here I shall see + Mudford."</p> + + <p>"Pardon me," began the young man, arriving, "but is this Colonel + Martin's house?"</p> + + <p>Mrs. Martin made no effort to reply and Mary reassured him.</p> + + <p>"It's like this," he continued frankly. "I'm representing <i>The Daily + Rebel</i>, and I'm awfully anxious to get certain information for my + paper. I was speaking to Admiral Rogers just now and he told me I should + probably get it here if I tried. He said he could only give me a guess + himself and I had better come to headquarters. Madam," he bowed towards + Mrs. Martin, "will you kindly tell me if you are the famous ..."</p> + + <p>Here Mary interposed. "My mother," she said serenely, "is not the + Mudford Blight. Nor is my father."</p> + + <p>The young man wheeled on her.</p> + + <p>"Then you ...?" he queried.</p> + + <p>Mary hesitated, questioning her mother with a glance.</p> + + <p>"My daughter," replied Mrs. Martin in a strangled voice, "cannot + possibly be the person you seek since she is not a Mudford resident. She + lives in London and is only staying here till to-morrow—at the + latest."</p> + + <p>Mary smiled radiantly and sent a wire later in the afternoon.</p> + +<hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:33%;"> + <a href="images/181.png"><img width="100%" src="images/181.png" + alt="I can't do nothink wiv our 'Erbert" /></a> + <p><i>Young Miner's Mother</i>. "<font class="sc">I can't do nothink + wiv our 'Erbert since 'e voted for the strike. Wen I ask 'im to run a + errand 'e says it isn't a man's job</font>."</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h4>The Gynecophobe.</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>"While crossing a field near Berwick a gamekeeper noticed a dear + coming in his direction and he took cover in a hayrick."—<i>Scotch + Paper</i>.</p> + + </blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"<font class="sc">Parlourmaid</font> Wanted, afternoons, 2-6.30, + galvanised iron, 50 ft. to 140 ft. long x 21 ft."—<i>Local + Paper</i>.</p> + + </blockquote> + <p>It needs a girl with an iron constitution to support such a frame.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"For Sale, Clergyman's Grey Costume, latest style; also Jumper, never + worn."—<i>Irish Paper</i>.</p> + + </blockquote> + <p>The reverend gentleman appears to have jibbed at the jumper.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>[pg 189]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/182.png"><img width="100%" src="images/182.png" + alt="You better take a fresh middle" /></a> + <p><i>Village Umpire (advancing down pitch, after resisting two appeals + for l.b.w.)</i>. <font class="sc">"You better take a fresh middle, + Jarge, 'cos if 'e 'its 'ee again in the zame place I shall 'ave to give + 'ee out."</font></p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h2>MOVEMENT IN THE MONEY MARKET.</h2> + + <p><font class="sc">Dear Mr. Punch</font>,—I have been spending my + holiday at a watering place, a place that fully deserves its epithet. My + London daily has been my only entertainment, and towards the evening + hours I have found myself wandering about the less familiar beats of it. + I have become an intimate of the City Editor, and I hasten to inform you, + Mr. Punch, that he has introduced me to a side of the Gay Life which I + have been missing all these years. I will set out the tale of it, even at + the risk of making your readers blush.</p> + + <p>It appears that recently a feeling spread in the Market (and that all + these goings-on should take place in a market adds, in my view, to their + curiousness) that a crisis had been reached in monetary restrictions and + things might be eased a bit. Apparently there is a circle of people in + the know, and by them it was immediately appreciated what this + "relaxation" implied. The first overt sign of something doing was a + "heavy demand for money," a need which I too, for all my quiet + domesticity, have felt from time to time. No doubt the fast City set were + filling their pockets before commencing a course of "relaxation." The + next development was that the Market was approached from all sides with + "applications for accommodation." I can picture the merry parties rolling + up in their thousands, booking every available house, flat or room, and + even paying very fancy prices for the hire of a booth for a + house-party.</p> + + <p>It may give you some idea of the nature of their "relaxation" when I + say that our old friend the Bank of England seems to have so far + forgotten herself as to start making advances to the Government. My City + Editor, who is possibly a family man, cannot bring himself to give + details; he just states the fact, merely adding the significant comment + that "the usual reserve of the Bank is rapidly disappearing." The effect + of this example is appearing in the most respectable quarters. "All + attempts are now failing," he reports, for example, "to keep the + Fiduciary Issue within limits." Reluctantly he mentions a "considerably + freer tendency in Discount circles."</p> + + <p>Further he records a tendency to over-indulgence in feasting. I read + of figures (I hardly like to quote this bit) becoming "improperly + inflated." Will you believe me when I add that a section of those + participating in the beano, whose one fear was, apparently, that it would + all end only too soon, actually were heard expressing the apprehension, + to quote verbatim, "that they would deflate too rapidly." "The whole tone + of the Market," says my City Editor, "became distinctly cheerful," and he + pauses to comment on the one redeeming feature: "War Loan remaining + steady, 84-15/16 middle."</p> + + <p>And thence to the shocking climax: Trade Returns were unable to + balance properly, and Money (to be absolutely outspoken and no longer to + mince matters) got tight.</p> + + <p>After this I was not surprised to read of "Mexican Eagles rising on + the announcement of the new Gusher." Nor a little later to find the + announcement, "Stock Exchange Dull." A very natural reaction.</p> + +<p class="center">Yours ever,</p> + +<p class="author"><font class="sc">A Simple West-ender</font>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>Professional Pride.</h4> + + <p>Extract from a plumber's account:—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>"To making good leaks in pipes, 8/6."</p> + + </blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"Wanted 2 Lions male and female or either any of them. What will be + the cost? Where they can be had and when can we get."—<i>Indian + Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>Can any of our readers oblige this eager zoologist?</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"An incident of an extraordinary nature befell Colonel ——, + C.B., while playing a golf match at Brancaster. A large grey cow swooped + down, picked up his ball and flew away with it."—<i>Newfoundland + Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>Probably a descendant of the one who jumped over the moon.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>[pg 190]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/183.png"><img width="100%" src="images/183.png" + alt="How did these two marks get on my arm?" /></a> + <p><i>Betty.</i> <font class="sc">"Mummy, how did these two marks get + on my arm?"</font></p> + + <p><i>Mother.</i> <font class="sc">"The doctor made them. They're + vaccination marks. There ought properly to be four of them."</font></p> + + <p><i>Betty</i> (<i>after much deliberation</i>). <font + class="sc">"Mummy, did you <i>pay</i> for four?"</font></p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h2>ON RUNNING DOWN TO BRIGHTON.</h2> + + <p>When I consulted people about my nasal catarrh, "There is only one + thing to do," they said. "Run down to Brighton for a day or two."</p> + + <p>So I started running and got as far as Victoria. There I was informed + that it was quite unnecessary to run all the way to Brighton. People + walked to Brighton, yes; or hopped to Kent; but they never ran. The + fastest time to Brighton by foot was about eight hours, but this was done + without an overcoat or suit-case. Even on Saturdays they said it was + quicker to take the train than to walk or to hop.</p> + + <p>Brighton has sometimes been called London by the Sea or the Queen of + Watering Places, but in buying a ticket it is better to say simply + Brighton, at the same time stating whether you wish to stay there + indefinitely or to be repatriated at an early date. I once asked a + booking-clerk for two sun spots of the Western coast, and he told me that + the refreshment-room was further on. But I digress.</p> + + <p>One of the incidental difficulties in running down to Brighton is that + the rear end of the train queue often gets mixed up with the rear end of + the tram queue for the Surrey cricket ground, so that strangers to the + complexities of London traffic who happen to get firmly wedged in + sometimes find themselves landed without warning at the "Hoval" instead + of at Hove. To avoid this accident you should keep the right shoulder + well down and hold the shrimping-net high in the air with the left hand. + If you do get into the train the best place is one with your back to the + window, for, though you miss the view, after all no one else sees it + either, and you do get something firm to lean up against. It was while I + was travelling to Brighton in this manner that I discovered how much more + warm this summer really is than many writers have made out.</p> + + <p>Around Brighton itself a lot of legends have crystallized, some more + or less true, others grossly exaggerated. There is an idea, for instance, + that all the inhabitants of this town or, at any rate, all the visitors + who frequent it, are exceedingly smart in their dress. Almost the first + man whom I met in Brighton was wearing plus 4 breeches and a bowler hat. + It is possible, of course, that this is the correct costume for walking + to Brighton in. Later on I saw a man wearing a motor mask and goggles and + a blue-and-red bathing suit. Neither of these two styles is smart as the + word is understood in the West End.</p> + + <p>Then there is the story that prices, especially the prices of food, + are exceedingly high in Brighton. After all, the cost of food depends + everywhere very much upon what you eat. I see no reason for supposing + that the price of whelks in Brighton compares unfavourably with the price + of whelks in other great whelk-eating centres; but the price of fruit is + undeniably high. I saw some very large light-green grapes in a shop + window, grown, I suppose, over blast furnaces, and when I asked what they + cost I was considerably surprised. Being afraid, however, to go out of + the shop without making a purchase, I eventually bought one.</p> + + <p>But these things are all by the way. It was when I reached the + sea-front at Brighton that I made the tremendous discovery which is + really the subject of this article. I realised the secret of Brighton's + charm. It can be stated very simply. <i>It lies in the number of things + one needn't do there.</i></p> + + <p>At little seaside resorts, such as Cockleham, there are a very limited + number of things that people do, and as soon as one gets to Cockleham an + irresistible inclination seizes one not to do them to-day. If anybody + says it is a good day for bathing you say it is better for boating. And + if they agree you wonder if, after all, golf.... And so you preserve your + independence and feel rested and stave off for a little while the evil + day. But only for a little. Very soon, for lack of alternative + suggestions, you are bound to be dragged in and do something.</p> + + <p>But at Brighton the number of things to do is so enormous and so + varied that you can spend days and days in not doing them. On the pier + alone there are something like a hundred complicated automatic machines + which you needn't work; there are fishing-rods which you needn't hire, + and concerts to which you needn't listen. The sea is full of rowing boats + and motor-launches which you needn't charter, and the land is full of + motor-brakes which you needn't board. You needn't mixed-bathe nor go and + watch the professional divers, nor the fish in the Aquarium, nor the + people with Norman profiles arriving in motor-cars at the hugest hotels. + You can simply sit still on the beach and discuss which of these exciting + things you won't do first. And while you sit still on the beach you can + throw pebbles into the sea. No one has ever thrown as many pebbles into + the sea in his life as he wanted to, because someone keeps saying, "Well, + you must decide;" but at Brighton you can throw more than in any seaside + place that I know. And, now I come to think of it, I wonder that there is + no charge for throwing pebbles into the sea at Brighton. I should have + thought a low wall with turnstile gates and three or four shies a penny + ... but I leave this commercial idea for the Town Council to work + out.</p> + + <p>When I had thrown a great many pebbles into the sea I began to nerve + myself for the struggle of returning. Over that struggle I prefer, as the + saying is, to draw a veil. Suffice it to say that it is harder to run up + to Brighton than it is to run down. But whilst I was running up I made a + curious and interesting discovery. I found that the spell of Brighton had + cured my cold. I had lost it in the soothing excitement of wondering what + not to do next. This is the true panacea.</p> + +<p class="author"><font class="sc">Evoe.</font></p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>[pg 191]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/184.png"><img width="100%" src="images/184.png" + alt="THE CAP OF LIBERTY: LE DERNIER CRI." /></a> + <h3>THE CAP OF LIBERTY: LE DERNIER CRI.</h3> + + <p><font class="sc">Egyptian Sphinx.</font> "HOW DOES IT SUIT MY + STYLE?"</p> + + <p><font class="sc">The Lord High Milner.</font> "WELL, I MAY BE + PREJUDICED IN FAVOUR OF MY OWN CREATION, BUT I THINK IT MOST + BECOMING."</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page193" id="page193"></a>[pg 193]</span> + +<h2>RHYMES OF THE UNDERGROUND.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The story has been told to you</p> + <p>Of good Adolphus Minns of Kew,</p> + <p>Whose virtuous ways have won renown</p> + <p>From Barking Creek to Acton Town.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now with that hero's blameless life</p> + <p>Contrast the conduct of his wife:</p> + <p>Avoidance of egregious sins</p> + <p>Is not the way of Mrs. Minns.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>That lady, I regret to say,</p> + <p>While bent on shopping every day,</p> + <p>Makes no attempt to get it o'er</p> + <p>Between the hours of ten and four.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>To harassed booking-office clerks</p> + <p>She makes irrelevant remarks,</p> + <p>And tenders, to the crowd's despair,</p> + <p>A pound-note for a penny fare,</p> + <p>Or, what perhaps is even worse,</p> + <p>Starts fumbling in a baggy purse.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She'll step aboard a Highgate train,</p> + <p>Then check and double back again,</p> + <p>And ask a dislocated queue</p> + <p>If she is right for Waterloo.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The liftmen, who, you recollect,</p> + <p>Spoke of Adolphus with respect,</p> + <p>Are pessimistic, even for them,</p> + <p>About the fate of Mrs. M.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Where Gertrude Minns will go when she</p> + <p>Departs this life is not for me,</p> + <p>Or you, or liftmen, to decree.</p> + <p>And, any way, we needn't fret;</p> + <p>She shows no sign of dying yet.</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/185.png"><img width="100%" src="images/185.png" + alt="FIRST AID." /></a> + <h3>FIRST AID.</h3> + + <p><i>Examiner.</i> "<font class="sc">What measures would you take if + you had to treat a case of sunstroke?</font>"</p> + + <p><i>Boy Scout</i> (<i>who has negotiated fairly successfully a + fractured jaw, broken forearm and severed femoral artery</i>). "<font + class="sc">I would drag him into the shade, strip him to the waist, + pour cold water on him and put him into isolation if there was any + ice.</font>"</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>[pg 194]</span> + +<h2>THE END OF THE SEASON.</h2> + + <p>The letters of the alphabet were talking.</p> + + <p>"It's been a wonderful season," said S. "I 'm very proud of it."</p> + + <p>"Yes," said C; "I don't suppose so much interest was ever taken in + cricket before. The number of people able to spend time at a match has + been the greatest ever known."</p> + + <p>L agreed. "Even on the middle days of the week," he said, "Lord's has + been packed."</p> + + <p>"Lord's, forsooth!" O struck in. "Lord's has been empty compared with + the Oval. The Ovalites have lost no opportunity of watching their + heroes."</p> + + <p>"When you say 'their heroes' you mean also mine," said H. "But they + are not confined to the Oval. I have some at Lord's too; in fact, all + over the country. It has been, all the best critics say, an H year." He + ticked them off on his fingers. "For Surrey, <font + class="sc">Hobbs</font> and <font class="sc">Hitch</font>; for Middlesex, + <font class="sc">Hendren</font> and <font class="sc">Hearne</font>; for + Yorkshire, <font class="sc">Hirst</font> and <font + class="sc">Holmes</font>; for Notts, <font class="sc">Hardstaff</font>; + for Kent, <font class="sc">Hardinge</font> and <font + class="sc">Hubble</font>; for Worcestershire, <font + class="sc">Howell</font>. And four of them," he added, "are going to play + for England in Australia. It's a feather in my cap, I can tell you," H + went on. "And I needed the encouragement too. No one is treated so badly + as I am, especially in London, where I'm being dropped all day long or + forced into company which I don't care about. Isn't that true?"</p> + + <p>"Not 'arf!" said C, who is a good deal of a Cockney.</p> + + <p>"There!" said H with a sigh, "I told you so."</p> + + <p>"There's no doubt that our friend the aspirate has done it this year," + said T; "but some of us are not downhearted. Look at all my <font + class="sc">Tyldesleys</font>."</p> + + <p>"We're quite willing to look at them," said C, "but don't ask us to + count them. Meanwhile what about my <font class="sc">Cook</font> in the + same county? And good old hard-working <font class="sc">Coe</font> and + <font class="sc">Cox</font>?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," said L, "and what about Lancashire itself—almost at the + top of the tree? And <font class="sc">Lee</font> of Middlesex? H may have + the greatest number of heroes, but we're not to be sneezed at. And even + his wonderful <font class="sc">Hobbs</font> couldn't win the + championship. It rested between M and me. I'm proud to be M's next-door + neighbour."</p> + + <p>"It's been a great season for me," said M. "I admit to being nervous + on the second day of the last great match, but all's well now. What a + game that was! And it's not only of Middlesex that I'm proud; if you + glance at the batting averages you will notice <font + class="sc">Mead</font> not a great way removed from the top; and <font + class="sc">Makepeace</font> not far below him, and I hold <font + class="sc">Murrell</font> in special esteem."</p> + + <p>"Yes," said R, "and if you continue to look you will find <font + class="sc">Rhodes</font> at the head of the bowling, and <font + class="sc">Rushby</font> and <font class="sc">Richmond</font> in + honourable places, and the steady <font class="sc">Russell</font> with + over two thousand runs to his name. There are also two brothers named + <font class="sc">Relf</font>. Good heavens, the H's aren't + everything!"</p> + + <p>"He doesn't claim, I hope," B struck in, "that <font + class="sc">Brown</font> begins with H, or <font class="sc">Bowley</font>, + or Bat or Ball or Bails?"</p> + + <p>"Nor," said S, "that <font class="sc">Sandham</font> and <font + class="sc">Sutcliffe</font> and <font class="sc">Stevens</font> and <font + class="sc">Seymour</font> and the gallant little <font + class="sc">Strudwick</font> (who, like all wicket-keepers, is so liable + to be overlooked) never existed? Not to mention my latest recruit, Mr. + <font class="sc">Skeet</font>? Some letters can be too haughty + and—"</p> + + <p>"Grasping," said G. "But all of you must be careful of me. I carry big + <font class="sc">Gunns</font>."</p> + + <div class="figright" style="width:33%;"> + <a href="images/186.png"><img width="100%" src="images/186.png" + alt="THE HAPPY WARRIOR." /></a> + <p class="center">THE HAPPY WARRIOR.</p> + + <p><font class="sc">With Mr. Punch's compliments to Mr. "Plum" + Warner.</font></p> + </div> + <p>"Although I'm not too prominent," said F, "I've got a very dangerous + bowler and hitter and captain in <font class="sc">Fender</font>, to say + nothing of two <font class="sc">Freemen</font> and a '<font + class="sc">Fairy</font>.' And during the season C.B. <font + class="sc">Fry</font> bobbed up once to some purpose."</p> + + <p>I asked one or two of the letters to explain their silence.</p> + + <p>"Well," said Z, "cricket has never interested me. But then my range is + very narrow."</p> + + <p>"And mine's even narrower," sighed X.</p> + + <p>"If it weren't for <font class="sc">Quaife</font>," said Q, "I should + be in despair and play nothing but a quiet game of quoits now and + again."</p> + + <p>"H may have that long string," said W, "but he breaks down badly here + and there. Where's his six-foot-six left-handed bowler and bat? He hasn't + got one. I have, though, in <font class="sc">Woolley</font>. And where's + his master of the game, practical and theoretical, in a harlequin cap? + The wisest captain any county ever had and the most enthusiastic and + stimulating? In short, where is H's P.F. <font class="sc">Warner</font>, + whom we're all so sorry to lose, but who had such a glorious farewell + performance? Where? Ha!"</p> + + <p>"I claim a share in the Middlesex captain," said P proudly. "For is he + not a Plum? I hate to see him go, but I shall not be fruitless; look how + <font class="sc">Peach</font> is coming along."</p> + + <p>"And who owns the All-English Captain, I should like to know?" said + the deep voice of D. "Not to mention a <font class="sc">Denton</font> and + a <font class="sc">Durston</font> and a <font class="sc">Dolphin</font> + and a <font class="sc">Dipper</font>. It is something to own a <font + class="sc">Dean</font>; it is more to possess a <font + class="sc">Ducat</font>."</p> + + <p>"Isn't life going to be very dull for all of you till next May?" I + asked.</p> + + <p>"Oh, no," said A, who hitherto had not spoken. "We're going to follow + the English team's doings in Australia. And won't it be A1 when they + bring back the Ashes?"</p> + + <p>"Absolutely," I agreed.</p> + +<p class="author">E.V.L.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>Another Irish Problem.</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>"Tuesday next, I may explain, is Belfastese for Tuesday next, and + means to-day."—<i>Daily Paper</i>.</p> + + </blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> + + <p><font class="sc">Generosity at the Grocer's</font>: "Provided you get + one bad egg from us, we will on your returning it give you two for + it."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>From an engineer's letter:—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>"We are exhibiting ——'s Patent Nibbling Machine at the + Laundry Trades Exhibition."</p> + + </blockquote> + <p>We have often wondered how our collars get those crinkled edges.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"The club before declaring at 5 wickets had put up a formidable score + of 341, Major Ireland making 434 and Capt. Green 127.</p> + + <table border="0"> + <tr><td>Capt. M.A. Green, stpd. Mistri b. Evan</td><td align="right">27</td></tr> + <tr><td>Maj. K.A. Ireland, c. & b. Bignall</td><td align="right">134</td></tr> + <tr><td>Newnham, b. Evans</td><td align="right">4</td></tr> + <tr><td>Lieut. Foley, b. Evans</td><td align="right">4</td></tr> + <tr><td>Maj. Englefield, b. Powers</td><td align="right">22</td></tr> + <tr><td>Lieut. Cambon not out</td><td align="right">15</td></tr> + <tr><td> Extras</td><td align="right">35</td></tr> + <tr><td> </td></tr> + <tr><td>Total for 5 wickets misdeclared</td><td align="right">341</td></tr> + <tr><td colspan="2" align="right"><i>Egyptian Gazette.</i></td></tr> + </table> + </blockquote> + + <p>We thought from the start that something was wrong.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>[pg 195]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/187.png"><img width="100%" src="images/187.png" + alt="I consider the marrow a much overrated vegetable" /></a> + <p><i>The Rector.</i> <font class="sc">"Very nice, Mrs. Brown. Very + creditable indeed. But personally I consider the marrow a much + overrated vegetable, apart, of course, from its decorative value at + harvest festivals."</font></p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h2>NIMROD.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Nimrod he was a hunter in the days of long ago,</p> + <p>Caring little for things of state, little for things of show;</p> + <p>When the unenlightened around him squabbled for wealth or fame</p> + <p><font class="sc">Nimrod</font> fled to the forests and gave himself up to Game.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I've never been told what jungles old <font class="sc">Nimrod</font> called his own,</p> + <p>Or studied the "Sportsman's Record" he scratched on a shoulder-bone;</p> + <p>I haven't heard what he shot with nor even what game he slew,</p> + <p>But I know he was fore-forefather to fellows like me and you.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He stood to the roaring tiger, he stood to the charging gaur;</p> + <p>His was the love of the hunting which is more than the lust of war;</p> + <p>He knew the troubles of tracking, the business of camps and kits,</p> + <p>And the pleasure that pays for the pain of all—the ultimate shot that hits.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now I've nowhere seen it stated, but I'm certain the thing occurred,</p> + <p>That when <font class="sc">Nimrod</font> came to his death-bed he sent his relatives word,</p> + <p>And said to his sons and his people ere his spirit obtained release,</p> + <p>"You follow the trails I taught you and your ways will bring you peace."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Wherefore—as now and to-morrow—when the souls of men were sick,</p> + <p>When wives were fickle or fretful or the bills were falling thick,</p> + <p>When the youth was minded to marry and the maiden withheld consent,</p> + <p>Heeding the words of <font class="sc">Nimrod</font>, they packed their spears and went—</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Went to the scented mornings, to the nights of the satin moon</p> + <p>That can lap the heart in solace, that can settle the soul in tune;</p> + <p>So they continued the remedy <font class="sc">Nimrod</font> of old began—</p> + <p>The healing hand of the jungle on the fevered brow of man.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then—as now and to-morrow—mended and sound and sane,</p> + <p>Flushed by the noonday sunshine, freshed by the twilight rain,</p> + <p>Trailing their trophies behind them, armed with the strength of ten,</p> + <p>Back they came from the jungle ready to start again.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>* * * * *</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ye who have travelled the wilderness, ye who have followed the chase,</p> + <p>Whom the voice of the forest comforts and the touch of the lonely place;</p> + <p>Ye who are sib to the jungle and know it and hold it good—</p> + <p>Praise ye the name of <font class="sc">Nimrod</font>, a Fellow Who Understood.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i16">H.B.</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>The House-Agent's Forlorn Hope.</h4> + + <p><font class="sc">"Two-and-a-half Miles from Station with Non-stop + Trains."</font>—<i>Weekly Paper.</i></p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<h4>A Tragic Coincidence.</h4> + +<p class="center">"TEN PROFESSORSHIPS VACANT</p> + +<p class="center"><font class="sc">In Sydney University.</font></p> + + <blockquote> +<p class="author">Lausanne, Monday.</p> + + <p>The giant British aeroplane G.E.A.T.L., from Cricklewood aerodrome, + London, landed at Blecherette, Lausanne, at 6-5 this + evening."—<i>Irish Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>Did all the ten Sydney Professors fall out of it together?</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>[pg 196]</span> + +<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2> + +<p class="center">"<font class="sc">The Prude's Fall.</font>"</p> + + <p>Though the hero is French and takes up his residence in an English + cathedral town in order to rectify our British prudery and show us how to + make love, there is practically nothing here that is calculated to bring + a blush to the cheek of modesty. It is true that from time to time + <i>Captain le Briquet</i> kisses various outlying portions of his + "<i>ange adoré</i>," but it is all very decorous and his ultimate + intentions are strictly respectable.</p> + + <p>You see, he was really just playing a game. Big game was his + speciality (Africa) and this one was to be as big as an elephant. It + consisted in the correction of a flaw which he had found in the object of + his worship, the lovely young Widow <i>Audley,</i> who had refused in his + very presence to receive a woman, an old friend of hers, who had + preferred love to reputation. He, the gallant Captain, proposed to amend + this error. By his French methods he would reduce the Widow to such a + state of helplessness that she would consent to become his mistress. The + fact that he happened to be a bachelor, and perfectly free to marry her, + should not be allowed to stand in the way of his scheme. He would explain + that the exigencies of his vocation as a hunter of big game demanded a + greater measure of liberty than was practicable within the bonds of + matrimony. He would be "faithful but free."</p> + + <p>In the course of a brief month (the interval between the First and + Second Acts, for we are not permitted to see how he does it) she has + become as putty in his hands. She consents to be his mistress, and is + indeed so determined to adopt this informal style of union that when he + produces a special marriage licence she is indignant at such a concession + to the proprieties. But once again the Captain proves irresistible with + his French methods and all ends well.</p> + + <div class="figright" style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/188.png"><img width="100%" src="images/188.png" + alt="THE CAPTAIN EXAMINES ARMS." /></a> + <p class="center">THE CAPTAIN "EXAMINES ARMS."</p> + + <p><i>Captain le Briquet</i> ... Mr. <font class="sc">Gerald du + Maurier.</font></p> + + <p><i>Sir Nevil Moreton, Bart.</i> ... Mr. <font class="sc">Franklin + Dyall.</font></p> + </div> + <p>Mr. <font class="sc">Gerald du Maurier</font> was the life and soul of + the play, which would have been a dullish business without him. His + reappearances were always hailed as a joyous relief to the prevailing + depression. Even <i>Dean Carey</i>—most delightful in the person of + Mr. <font class="sc">Gilbert Hare</font>—became at one time a + gloomy Dean; and Miss <font class="sc">Lilian Braithwaite</font>, who + played very tenderly in the part of <i>Mrs. Westonry</i> (the lady who + had lost her reputation), could not hope to be very entertaining with her + reminiscences of a lover whom we had never had the pleasure of + meeting.</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. Audley</i> again (treated naturally and with a pleasant + artlessness by Miss <font class="sc">Emily Brooke</font>) did not take + very kindly to the conquest of her scruples and gave little suggestion of + the rapture of surrender. Further, the authors paid a poor compliment to + English gentlemen by providing the Captain with a dull boor for his + rival. The contrast was a little too patent. Even so Mr. <font + class="sc">Franklin Dyall</font> might perhaps have made the <i>rôle</i> + of <i>Sir Nevil Moreton</i> appear a little less impossible. But, however + good he may be in character parts or where melodrama is indicated, he + never allowed us to mistake him for a British Baronet. The only person + (apart from <i>le Briquet</i>) who contributed nothing to the general + gloom was the Dean's wife, played with the most attractive grace and + humour by Miss <font class="sc">Nina Boucicault</font>.</p> + + <p>A note of piquancy was given to Mr. <font class="sc">du + Maurier's</font> part by his broken English. "Broken" is perhaps not + quite the word, unless we may speak of a torrent as being broken by + pebbles in its bed. There were momentary hesitancies, and a few easy + French words, such as <i>pardon?</i> <i>pourquoi donc?</i> <i>c'est + permis?</i> <i>alors</i>, were introduced to flatter the comprehension of + the audience; but for the rest his fluency—and at all junctures, + even the most unlikely—was simply astounding. Few people, speaking + in their native tongue, can ever have commanded so facile an eloquence. + What chance had a mere Englishman against him?</p> + + <p>The action of <i>The Prude's Fall</i> was supposed to take place in + 1919, but its atmosphere was clearly ante-bellum. Anyhow there was no + sign of the alleged damage done to our moral standards by the War. But + nobody will quarrel on that ground with Mr. <font + class="sc">Besier</font> and Miss <font class="sc">Edginton</font>, the + clever authors of this very interesting play. And if we have to be taught + how to behave by a Frenchman, to the detriment of our British <i>amour + propre</i>, there is nobody who can do it so nicely and painlessly as Mr. + <font class="sc">du Maurier</font>.</p> + +<p class="center">"<font class="sc">Wedding Bells.</font>"</p> + + <p>I begin to suspect that the possible situations of marital farce are + becoming exhausted. Certainly we have lost the power of being staggered + by the emergence of an old wife out of the past. But Mr. <font + class="sc">Salisbury Field</font>, who wrote <i>Wedding Bells</i> for + America, is not content with a single repetition of this ancient device; + he must needs give us these intrusions in triplicate, showing how they + affect the career of (1) the hero, (2) his man-servant, (3) a + poet-friend. True he only produces two old wives; but one of them, being + a bigamist, was able to intrude "in two places" (as the auctioneers + say).</p> + + <p>The wife of <i>Reginald Carter</i> (Mr. <font class="sc">Owen + Nares</font>), having first run right away from him and then apparently + divorced him for desertion (I told you the play was American), turns up + on the eve of his marriage to another. He has barely recovered from his + failure to keep his future wife in ignorance of his past when he has to + start taxing his brains all over again in order to keep his past wife in + ignorance of his future.</p> + + <p>The First Act went well enough and was full of good words—not + very subtle perhaps, but the kind that invites intelligent laughter. + Later the play degenerated into something too improbable for comedy and + not boisterous enough for pure farce. The two most disintegrating + elements were furnished by a love-sick poet (a figure that should have + been <i>vieux jeu</i> in the last century) and an English maid who could + never have existed outside the imagination of an American. I make no + complaint of the fact that in a chequered past she had married both + <i>Carter's</i> man-servant and the antiquated poet; but I do complain + that her Cockney accent was imperfectly consistent both with her rustic + origin an apple-cheeked lass, we were told, from somewhere in Kent) and + her situation as maid to a very smart American.</p> + + <p>You will naturally ask what Mr. <font class="sc">Owen Nares</font> was + doing in this galley; and I cannot tell you. I can only say that he was + very brave about it all. In <span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" + id="page197"></a>[pg 197]</span> a sense it was a serious performance, + the only one of its kind in the play; yet not serious enough to serve as + a foil for the general frivolity, for he was constantly bringing his own + high sentiments into ridicule, and so burlesquing the <font + class="sc">Owen Nares</font> that we love to take seriously.</p> + + <p>On the other hand, Miss <font class="sc">Gladys Cooper</font>, as + <i>Rosalie</i>, his late wife, was untroubled by high sentiment; she was + content to be wayward and unseizable, confident in the obvious power of + her charm to retrieve him from the very altar-rails. Her own heart never + seemed to come into the question, and her motive in setting herself to + recover him was not much clearer than her reason for deserting him.</p> + + <p>Some of the minor characters gave good entertainment. There was a dude + (is that what they call them now in America?) who dressed very perfectly + and said a great many funny things all well within the range of his own, + and our, intelligence. Mr. <font class="sc">Deverell</font> played the + part with admirable restraint. And we could ill have spared the humours + of <i>Carter's</i> man <i>Jackson</i> (Mr. <font class="sc">Will + West</font>), whose wide experience in matrimony, resulting in an + attitude alternately timorous and prehensile towards female society in + the servants' hall, was the source of many poignant generalisations. Miss + <font class="sc">Edith Evans</font>, as a mother-in-law <i>manquée</i>, + showed a touch of real artistry; and Mr. <font class="sc">George + Carr</font> had no difficulty in getting fun out of the part of a + Japanese house-boy, almost the only novelty which we owed to the American + origin of the play.</p> + + <p>When <i>Carter</i> was turned down by a clergyman who refused to + perform the marriage rites for a divorced man, there was something very + attractive (to a golfer) in his protest against these "local rules." This + was one of many good things said; but the play had its dull times too, + and there were one or two lapses made in the pursuit of the easy laugh. + For instance:—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p><i>Carter.</i> "Do you believe in God?"</p> + + <p><i>Wills.</i> "Good God!" (laughter).</p> + + <p>[Carter <i>here kneels down to get something from under the + sofa.</i></p> + + <p><i>Wills.</i> "Are you going to pray?" (laughter).</p> + + </blockquote> + <p>Personality, of course, counts for much, and both Miss <font + class="sc">Gladys Cooper</font> and Mr. <font class="sc">Owen + Nares</font> have enough admirers to ensure a success for this rather + moderate farce. But not a triumph, I fear; for, after all, the play + counts for something too and, though all the Faithful may be trusted to + put in one appearance, I doubt if many outside the ranks of the Very + Faithful will turn again at the sound of these <i>Wedding Bells</i>.</p> + +<p class="author">O.S.</p> + +<hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/189.png"><img width="100%" src="images/189.png" + alt="Why aren't you going to Sunday School?" /></a> + <div class="i16"> + <p>"<font class="sc">And why aren't you going to Sunday + School?</font>"</p> + + <p>"<font class="sc">'Cos it's 'Arold's turn for the + collar.</font>"</p> + </div> + </div> +<hr /> + + <blockquote> +<h4>More Direct Action.</h4> + + <p>"Northumberland Miners' Executive have decided to have Mr. Robert + Smillie's portrait painted in oils for Burt Hall, Newcastle.</p> + + <p>Other matter relating to the coal crisis appears on Page + Eleven."—<i>Daily Telegraph.</i></p> + + </blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> +<p class="center">"DAY BY DAY.</p> + + <p>Well, did you get your gun and have a shot at the pheasants and the + partridges yesterday?"—<i>Scotch Paper, Sept. 2nd.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>Naturally; the same gun with which we knocked the grouse over in + July.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"<font class="sc">Temp. in Shade.</font>—Max. of past 24 hours. + Hyderabad (Sind) ... 941·2."—<i>Indian Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>Good for the Sinders.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"One Dog with fairy tail came to my house, ——, Srimanta + Dey's Lane, may be restored to the owner on satisfactory + proof."—<i>Statesman (Calcutta).</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>The evidence of a dog like that would of course be useless.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"The Cathedral Choristers received a flattening + reception."—<i>Provincial Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>That should "learn" them to sing sharp.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There was a young man of Combe Florey</p> + <p>Who wrote such a gruesome short story,</p> + <p class="i4"><i>The English Review</i></p> + <p class="i4">Found it rather too blue</p> + <p>And <font class="sc">Masefield</font> pronounced it too gory.</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>[pg 198]</span> + +<h3>TO GENERAL OI.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>The Japanese Commander-in-Chief</i>.)</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The famous commanders of old</p> + <p>Were highly and duly extolled,</p> + <p>But their names, as recorded in song,</p> + <p>As a rule were excessively long—</p> + <p>Unlike that new broth of a boy,</p> + <p>The Japanese General <font class="sc">Oi</font>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>For we've bettered in numerous ways</p> + <p>Those polysyllabic old days,</p> + <p>And the names that confounded the Bosch</p> + <p>Were monosyllabic—like <font class="sc">Foch</font>;</p> + <p>But for brevity minus alloy</p> + <p>Give me Generalissimo <font class="sc">Oi</font>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><font class="sc">Napoleon</font> now is napoo;</p> + <p><font class="sc">Alexander</font>, <font class="sc">Themistocles</font>, too;</p> + <p>And you could not find space on the screen</p> + <p>For <font class="sc">Miltiades</font>, plucky old bean,</p> + <p>Or the names of the heroes of Troy;</p> + <p>But there's plenty of room for an <font class="sc">Oi</font>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I picture him frugal of speech,</p> + <p>But in action a regular peach—</p> + <p>A figure that might be compared</p> + <p>With a Highlander, chieftain or laird,</p> + <p>Like <font class="sc">The Mackintosh</font>, monarch of Moy,</p> + <p>Redoubtable General <font class="sc">Oi</font>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Anyhow, with so striking a name</p> + <p>You'd be sure of success if you came</p> + <p>To our shores, and might get an invite</p> + <p>To Elmwood to stay for the night,</p> + <p>And sit for your portrait to "<font class="sc">Poy</font>,"</p> + <p>Irresistible General <font class="sc">Oi</font>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So here's to you, excellent chief,</p> + <p>Whose name is so tunefully brief.</p> + <p>May your rule be productive of peace,</p> + <p>Like that of our good <i>Captain Reece</i>,</p> + <p>And no murmur, no οτοτοτοι</p> + <p>Be raised over General <font class="sc">Oi</font>!</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE BRITISH TARPON.</h3> + +<p class="center"><i>By our Piscatorial Expert.</i></p> + + <p>I have read with great interest, tempered by a little disappointment, + the article of Mr. F.A. <font class="sc">Mitchell-Hedges</font> on "Big + Game Fishing in British Waters," in <i>The Daily Mail</i> of September + 1st. He tells us of his experiences in catching the "tope," a + little-known fish of the shark genus which may be caught this month at + such places as Herne Bay, Deal, Margate, Ramsgate, Brighton and + Bournemouth, where he has captured specimens measuring 7½ feet long + within two hundred-and-fifty yards of the shore.</p> + + <p>Personally I have a great respect for the tope and for the topiary + art, but I cannot help regretting that Mr. <font + class="sc">Mitchell-Hedges</font> has omitted all mention of another + splendid fish, the stoot, which visits our shores every year in the late + summer and may be caught at places as widely distant as Barmouth and + Great Yarmouth, Porthcawl and Kylescue.</p> + + <p>The stoot, be it noted, is a cross between the porpoise and the + cuttle-fish; hence its local name of the porputtle. It is a clean feeder, + a great fighter and a great delicacy, tasting rather like a mixture of + the pilchard, the anchovy and the Bombay duck.</p> + + <p>For tackle I recommend a strong greenheart bamboo pole, like those + used in pole-jumping, about eighteen feet in length, and about three + hundred yards of wire hawser, with a Strathspey foursome reel + sufficiently large to hold it. Do not be afraid of the size of the hook. + The stoot-fisher cannot afford to take any risks. I do not wish to + dogmatise, but it must be big enough to cover the bait. And the stoot is + extremely voracious. Almost anything will do for bait, if one remembers, + as I have said above, that the stoot is a clean feeder. At different + times I have tried a large square of corridor soap, a simulation pancake, + three pounds of tough beefsteak or American bacon, or a volume of Sir + <font class="sc">Henry Howorth's</font> <i>History of the Mongols</i>, + and never without satisfactory results.</p> + + <p>On arriving at the feeding ground of the stoot, cast your line well + out from the boat with a small howitzer. You wait anxiously for the first + bite; suddenly the hawser runs taut and there is a scream from the reel. + But do not be afraid of the reel screaming. In the circumstances it is a + very good sign. Plant the butt of your rod or pole firmly in the socket + fitted for the purpose in all motor-stooter boats and let the fish run + for about a parasang, and then strike and strike hard. The battle is now + begun. Be prepared for a series of tremendous rushes. You will see the + stoot's huge bulk dash out of the water; you will hear his voice, which + resembles that of the gorilla. This may go on for a long time: if the + stoot be full-grown it will take you quite an hour to bring him alongside + the boat. Then comes the problem of how to get him in—the hardest + of all. The gaff, if possible a good French <i>gaffe</i>, is + indispensable, but the kilbin, a marine life-preserver resembling a heavy + niblick, is a handy weapon at this stage of the conflict. Strike the fish + on the head repeatedly—but never on the tail—until he is + paralysed and then grasp him firmly by the metatarsal fin or, failing + that, by the medulla oblongata, but keep your hands away from his mouth. + The teeth of the stoot are terribly sharp and pyorrhœa is not + unknown in this species.</p> + + <p>Having got the fish on board you will need a spell of rest. An hour's + battle with a stoot is the most sudorific experience that I know, even + more so than my contests with red snappers at Mazatlan, in Mexico, or + bat-fish off the coasts of Florida. A complete change is necessary.</p> + + <p>I have already spoken of the eating qualities of the stoot, which + exceed those of the tope. One is enough to provide sustenance for a small + country congregation. Cooked <i>en casserole</i>, or filleted, or grilled + and stuffed with Carlsbad plums, it is delicious.</p> + + <p>And lastly it lends itself admirably to curing or preserving. Bottled + stoot is in its way as nutritious as Guinness's.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>FLOWERS' NAMES.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8"><font class="sc">London Pride.</font></p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There was a haughty maiden</p> + <p class="i2">Who lived in London Town,</p> + <p>With gems her shoes were laden,</p> + <p class="i2">With gold her silken gown.</p> + <p>"In all the jewelled Indies,</p> + <p class="i2">In all the scented East,</p> + <p>Where the hot and spicy wind is,</p> + <p class="i2">No lady of the best</p> + <p>Can vie with me," said None-so-pretty</p> + <p>As down she walked through London City.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Our walls stand grey and stately;</p> + <p class="i2">Our city gates stand high;</p> + <p>Our lords spend wide and greatly;</p> + <p class="i2">Our dames go sweeping by;</p> + <p>Our heavy-laden barges</p> + <p class="i2">Float down the quiet flood</p> + <p>Where on the pleasant marges</p> + <p class="i2">Gay flowers bloom and bud.</p> + <p>Oh, there's no place like London City,</p> + <p>And I'm its crown," said None-so-pretty.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The fairies heard her boasting,</p> + <p class="i2">And that they cannot bear;</p> + <p>So off they went a-posting</p> + <p class="i2">For charms to bind her there.</p> + <p>They wove their spells around her,</p> + <p class="i2">The maiden pink and white;</p> + <p>With magic fast they bound her,</p> + <p class="i2">And flowers sprang to sight</p> + <p>All white and pink, called None-so-pretty,</p> + <p>The Pride of dusty London City.</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"A City pigeon swooped down suddenly out of nowhere and all but took + the cap off a bricklayer at the rate of forty miles an + hour."—<i>Daily Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>It will be observed that the speed was that of the bird and not the + bricklayer.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"At —— Church, on Monday last, a very interesting wedding + was solemnised, the contracting parties being Mr. Richard ——, + eldest son of Mr. and Mrs. ——, and a bouquet of pink + carnations."—<i>Welsh Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>There has been nothing like this since <font class="sc">Gilbert</font> + wrote of—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"An attachment <i>à la</i> Plato</p> + <p>For a bashful young potato."</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" id="page199"></a>[pg 199]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/191.png"><img width="100%" src="images/191.png" + alt="Wot yer mean photographin' my wife?" /></a> + <div class="i16"> + <p>"<font class="sc">Wot yer mean photographin' my wife? I saw + yer</font>."</p> + + <p>"<font class="sc">You're quite mistaken; I—I wouldn't do such + a thing</font>."</p> + + <p>"<font class="sc">Wot yer mean—<i>wouldn't</i>? she's the + best-lookin' woman on the beach</font>."</p> + </div> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks</i>.)</p> + + <p>Miss <font class="sc">Sheila Kaye-Smith</font> continues to be the + chronicler and brief abstractor of Sussex country life. Her latest story, + <i>Green Apple Harvest</i> (<font class="sc">Cassell</font>), may lack + the brilliant focus of <i>Tamarisk Town</i>, but it is more genuine and + of the soil. There indeed you have the dominant quality of this tale of + three farming brothers. Never was a book more redolent of earth; hardly + (and I mean this as a compliment) will you close it without an + instinctive impulse to wipe your boots. The brothers are <i>Jim</i>, the + eldest, hereditary master of the great farm of Bodingmares; <i>Clem</i>, + the youngest, living contentedly in the position of his brother's + labourer; and <i>Bob</i>, the central character, whose dark and changing + fortunes make the matter of the book, as his final crop of tragedy gives + to it the at first puzzling title. There is too much variety of incident + in <i>Bob's</i> uneasy life for me to follow it in detail. The tale is + sad—such a harvesting of green apples gives little excuse for + festival—but at each turn, in his devouring and fatal love for the + gipsy, <i>Hannah</i>, in his abandonment by her, and most of all in his + breaking adventures of the soul, now saved, now damned, he remains a + tragically moving figure. Miss <font class="sc">Kaye-Smith</font>, in + short, has written a novel that lacks the sunshine of its predecessors, + but shows a notable gathering of strength.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Would you not have thought that at this date motor-cars had definitely + joined umbrellas and mothers-in-law as themes in which no further humour + was to be found? Yet here is Miss <font class="sc">Jessie Champion</font> + writing a whole book, <i>The Ramshackle Adventure</i> (<font + class="sc">Hodder and Stoughton</font>), all about the comical vagaries + of a cheap car—a history that, while it has inevitably its dull + moments, has many more that are both amusing and full of a kind of charm + that the funny-book too often conspicuously lacks. I think this must be + because almost all the characters are such human and kindly folk, not the + lay figures of galvanic farce that one had only too much reason to + expect. For example, the owner of the car is a curate, whose wife is + supposed to relate the story, and <i>George</i> has to drive the Bishop + in his unreliable machine. Naturally one anticipates (a little drearily) + upsets and ditches and episcopal fury, instead of which—well, I + think I won't tell you what happens instead, but it is something at once + far more probable and pleasant. I must not forget to mention that the + cast also includes a pair of engaging lovers whom eventually the agency + of the car unites. Indeed, to pass over the lady would display on my part + the blackest ingratitude, since among her many attractive peculiarities + it is expressly mentioned that she (be still, O leaping heart!) reads the + letter-press in <i>Punch</i>.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Mrs. <font class="sc">Edith Mary Moore</font> has devoted her great + abilities to proving in <i>The Blind Marksman</i> (<font + class="sc">Hodder and Stoughton</font>) how shockingly bad the little + god's shooting became towards the end of last century. She proves it by + the frustrated hopes of <i>Jane</i>, her heroine, who in utter ignorance + of life marries a man whose pedestrian attitude of mind is quite unfitted + to keep pace with her own passionate and eager hurry of idealism. She + becomes household drudge to a master who cannot even talk the language + which she speaks naturally, and discovers in a man she has known all her + life the lover she should have married, only to lose <span + class="pagenum"><a name="page200" id="page200"></a>[pg 200]</span> him in + the European War. Here you have both <i>Jane</i> and the ineffective + husband—for whom I was sincerely sorry, because he asked so very + little of life and didn't even get that—badly left, and the case + against Cupid looks black. Mrs. <font class="sc">Moore</font> does what + she can for him by blaming our Victorian ancestors and their habits of + mind; but I think it is only fair to add that, delightful as <i>Jane</i> + is, she was not made for happiness any more than the people who enjoy + poor health have it in them to be robust, and that, true as much of the + author's criticism is, she has not been able to give <i>The Blind + Marksman</i>, for his future improvement, any very helpful ideas as to + how he is to shoot.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>The Devil, in so far as I have met him in fiction, has usually been a + highly successful intriguer on behalf of anyone prepared to make the + necessary bargain. Sir <font class="sc">Ronald Ross</font>, however, to + judge from the rather confused mediæval happenings in the Alps which are + faithfully described in <i>The Revels of Orsera</i> (<font + class="sc">Murray</font>), has rather a low opinion of the intelligence + of Mephistopheles. Anyhow, a certain <i>Zozimo</i>, deformed in body but + of great romantic sensibility, appears to have exchanged his outward + presence for that of a rich and handsome young Count, and in this guise + wooed the <i>Lady Lelita,</i> for whose sake her father had devised a + magnificent contest of suitors at Andermatt in the year 1495. After a + great deal of preliminary bungling the supposititious Count, with the + Devil in <i>Zozimo's</i> shape as his body-servant, was just about to + secure the object of his affections when <i>Zozimo</i> was stabbed by his + mother, with the result that the double identity was fused and the + <i>Lady Lelita</i> was left with a dying dwarf as her knight. If the plot + of <i>The Revels of Orsera</i> is a little unsatisfying the elaboration + of scenic description and mediæval pageantry is conscientious in the + extreme, and the laughter which followed the malicious pranks of + <i>Gangogo</i>, the professional jester of the tourney, must, if <i>I</i> + am to take the author's word for it, have made the glaciers ring. There + is a great deal in the way of philosophy and psychology that is very + baffling in this book, but of one thing I feel certain, and that is that + the Elemental Spirits of the Heights, to whom frequent allusion is made, + must find the winter sports of a later age a sorry substitute for the + rare old frolics of the fifteenth century.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>It can at least be claimed for Mrs. <font class="sc">Margaret Baillie + Saunders</font> that she has provided an original setting and "chorus" + for her new novel, <i>Becky & Co</i>. (<font + class="sc">Hutchinson</font>). Tales of City courtship have been written + often enough, but the combination here of a millinery establishment and a + community of Little Sisters of St. Francis under one roof in the + Minories, gives a stimulating atmosphere to a story otherwise not + specially distinguished. <i>Becky</i> was, as perhaps you may have + guessed, head of the millinery business, next door to which was housed + the firm of <i>Ray, St. Cloud & Stiggany</i>, leather-dressers, the + three partners in which all presently become suitors for the hand of + <i>Becky.</i> This in effect is the story—under which thimble will + the heart of the heroine be eventually found?—a problem that, in + view of the obviously superior claims of young <i>St. Cloud</i> over his + two elderly rivals, will not leave you long guessing. An element of novel + complication is however furnished by the device of making <i>St. + Cloud</i> at first engaged to <i>Ray's</i> daughter, who, subsequently + retiring into the Franciscan sisterhood, left her <i>fiancé</i> free to + become the rival of her widowed father. (As the late <font class="sc">Dan + Leno</font> used to observe, this is a little intricate!) For the rest, + as I have said, an agreeable, very feminine story of mingled sentiment, + commerce and ecclesiastical interest, the last predominating.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>It is possible that <i>The Sea Bride</i> (<font class="sc">Mills and + Boon</font>) may be too violent to suit all tastes, for Mr. <font + class="sc">Ben Ames Williams</font> writes of men primitive in their + loves and hates, and he describes them graphically. The scenes of this + story are set on the whaler <i>Sally</i>, commanded by a man of mighty + renown in the whaling world. When we meet him he has passed his prime and + has just taken unto himself a young wife. She goes with him in the + <i>Sally</i>, and the way in which Mr. <font class="sc">Williams</font> + shows how her courage increases as her husband's character weakens wins + my most sincere admiration. His tale would be nothing out of the common + but for his skill in giving individuality to his characters. Things + happen on the <i>Sally</i>, bloodthirsty, sinister, terrible things, + which the author neither glosses nor gloats over, being content to make + them appear essential to the development of the story. I am going to keep + my eye on Mr. <font class="sc">Williams</font>, chiefly because he can + write enthrallingly, but partly to see if he will accept a word of advice + and be a little more sparing in his use of those little dots ... which + are the first and last infirmity of writers who have no sense of + punctuation.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>When a young man sets out to London to make money for his relations he + usually (in a novel) writes a book which sells prodigiously—quite + an easy thing to do in a novel. Mr. John Wilberforce, however, avoids the + beaten track in <i>The Champion of the Family</i> (<font + class="sc">Fisher Unwin</font>). <i>Jack Brockhurst</i>, the champion in + question, became a member of the Stock Exchange, and, if you will accept + my invitation and follow his fortunes, I can promise you a fluttering + time. Mr. <font class="sc">Wilberforce's</font> name is unknown to me, + and I judge him more experienced in the mysteries of the Stock Exchange + than in the art of fiction; but I like his constructive ability and I + like his courage. He does not hesitate to make his champion a prig, which + is exactly what a youth so idolised by his family would be likely to + become. But, though a prig by training, <i>Jack</i> was not by nature a + bore, and his relations (especially his father and sister) are delightful + people. Altogether I find this a most promising performance.</p> + +<hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/192.png"><img width="100%" src="images/192.png" + alt="Haven't you anyone you can play with, Bobby?" /></a> + <p>"<font class="sc">Haven't you anyone you can play with, + Bobby?</font>"</p> + + <p>"<font class="sc">I <i>have</i> one friend—but I hate + him.</font>"</p> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +159, September 8th, 1920, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 16877-h.htm or 16877-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/8/7/16877/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Keith Edkins and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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