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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:51:03 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:51:03 -0700 |
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diff --git a/17397-h/17397-h.htm b/17397-h/17397-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c26eade --- /dev/null +++ b/17397-h/17397-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2877 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, October 6, 1920, by Various</title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 75%;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .drama {margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .drama p {margin: 1em 0em 0em 0em;; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + .drama p.i2 {margin: 0; margin-left: 1em;} + .drama p.i4 {margin: 0; margin-left: 2em;} + .drama p.i6 {margin: 0; margin-left: 3em;} + .drama p.i8 {margin: 0; margin-left: 4em;} + .drama p.i10 {margin: 0; margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + .center {text-align: center; } + .inline {border: none; vertical-align: middle;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + + .side { float:right; + font-size: 75%; + width: 25%; + padding-left:10px; + border-left: dashed thin; + margin-left: 10px; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: italic;} + --> + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, +October 6, 1920, by Various, Edited by Owen Seaman</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, October 6, 1920</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: Owen Seaman</p> +<p>Release Date: December 26, 2005 [eBook #17397]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 159, OCTOBER 6, 1920***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net/)</h4> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 159.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>October 6, 1920.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page261" id="page261"></a>[pg 261]</span> + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p>"Motorists," says a London magistrate, +"cannot go about knocking people +down and killing them every day." +We agree. Once should be enough for +the most grasping pedestrian.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"A Kensington lady," we read, "has +just engaged a parlourmaid who is +only three feet seven inches in height." +The shortage of servants is becoming +most marked.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A play called <i>The Man +Who Went to Work</i> is +shortly to be produced in +the West End. It sounds +like a farce.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A police-sergeant of Ealing +is reported to have summoned +six hundred motorists +since March. There is +some talk of his being presented +with the illuminated +addresses of another three +hundred.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>All the recent photographs +of Sir <span class="sc">Eric Geddes</span> +show him with a very broad +smile. "And I know who +he's laughing at," writes a +railway traveller.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>With reference to the Press +controversy between Mr. +H.G. <span class="sc">Wells</span> and Mr. <span class="sc">Henry +Arthur Jones</span>, we understand +that they have decided +to shake hands and be +enemies.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"In New Zealand," says +a weekly paper, "there is a +daisy which is often mistaken +for a sheep by the +shepherds." This is the sort +of statement that the Prohibitionist +likes to make a +note of.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A statistician informs us that a man's +body contains enough lime to whitewash +a small room. It should be +pointed out however that it is illegal +for a wife to break up her husband for +decorative purposes.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The Manchester Communist Party +have decided to have nothing whatever +to do with Parliament. We understand +that the <span class="sc">Premier</span> has now decided to +sell his St. Bernard dog.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"There are no very rich people in England," +says a gossip-writer. We can +only say we know a club porter who +recently stated that he had a cousin +who knew a miner who ... but we +fear it was only gossip.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"It is possible for people to do +quite well without a stomach," says a +Parisian doctor. Judged by the high +prices, we know a grocer who seems to +think along the same lines.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Special aeroplanes to carry fish from +Holland to this country are to run in +the winter. The idea of keeping the +fish long enough to enable them to +cross under their own power has been +abandoned.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>An Ashford gardener has grown a +cabbage which measures twelve feet +across. It is said to be uninhabited.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The Rules of Golf Committee now +suggest a standard ball for England and +America. The question of a standard +long-distance expletive for foozlers is +held over.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A youth charged at a police-court in +the South of London with stealing five +hundred cigars, valued at threepence +each, admitted that he had smoked +twenty-six of them. We are glad to learn +that no further punishment was ordered.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>The Waste Trade World</i> states that +there is a great demand for rubbish. +Editors, however, don't seem to be +moving with the times.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Off Folkestone, a few days ago, a +trawler captured a blue-nosed shark. +Complaints about the temperature of +the sea have been very common among +bathers this year.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"No one has yet been +successful in filming an actual +murder," states a Picture-goers' +Journal. It certainly +does seem a pity that +our murderers are so terribly +self-conscious in the presence +of a cinematograph +man.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>The Daily Express</i> states +that Mrs. <span class="sc">Bamberger</span> has +decided not to appeal against +her sentence. If that be so, +this high-handed decision +will be bitterly resented by +certain of the audience who +were in court during the trial +and eagerly looked forward +to the next edition.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A <i>Daily Mail</i> reader writes +to our contemporary to say +that he found forty-two +toads in his garden last +week. We can only suppose +that they were there in ignorance +of the fact that he +took in <i>The Daily Mail</i>.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A pike weighing twenty-six +pounds, upon being hooked +by a Cheshire fisherman, +pulled him into the canal. +His escape was much regretted +by the fish, who had +decided to have him stuffed.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>It is possible that Mr. <span class="sc">Tom Mann</span>, +the secretary of the A.S.E., will shortly +retire under the age limit. It is rumoured +that members have started to +collect for a souvenir strike as a parting +tribute.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="./images/250.png"><img src="./images/250_th.png" alt="Bus conductor talking to irate passenger" /></a> +<p><i>Bus Conductor</i> (<i>after passenger's torrents of invective on the subject of +increased fare</i>). "<span class="sc">Right-o, Ma. I'll tell 'em everythink you've +said wen I takes the chair at the next directors' meeting</span>."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>The Ethiopian Again.</h3> + +<blockquote> +<p>"COAL STILL BLACK."</p> + +<p class="author"><i>Heading in "Church Family Newspaper."</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The output in the first quarter this year +was at the rate of 248,000,000 million tons +a year. It fell in the second quarter to +232,000,000. Between and beyond these lines +there is an ample margin for bargaining."—<i>Evening Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Abundantly ample.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page262" id="page262"></a>[pg 262]</span> + +<h2>LESSONS FROM NATURE.</h2> + +<h4><span class="sc">To an Autumn Primrose.</span></h4> + +<table summary="center the poem"> +<tr><td> +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"If this belief from heaven be sent,</p> +<p class="i2"> If such be Nature's holy plan,</p> +<p> Have I not reason to lament</p> +<p class="i2"> What man has made of man?"</p> +<p class="i10"> <i>Wordsworth.</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Symbol of innocence, to Tories dear,</p> +<p class="i2">Whom I detect beside the silvan path</p> +<p>Doing your second time on earth this year</p> +<p class="i2">That I may cull a generous aftermath,</p> +<p class="i6">Let me divine your reason</p> +<p>For thus repullulating out of season.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Associated with the vernal prime</p> +<p class="i2">And widely known as "rathe," why bloom so late?</p> +<p>Was it the lure of so-called "Summer-time,"</p> +<p class="i2">Extended well beyond the usual date?</p> +<p class="i6">Our thanks for which reprieve</p> +<p>Are <span class="sc">Smillie's</span>, though they didn't ask his leave.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Rather I think you have some lofty plan,</p> +<p class="i2">Such as your old friend <span class="sc">Wordsworth</span> loved to sing;</p> +<p>That for a fair ensample set to Man</p> +<p class="i2">You duplicate your output of the Spring;</p> +<p class="i6">That in your heart there lodges</p> +<p>Dimly the hope of shaming Mr. <span class="sc">Hodges</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah! gentle primrose by the river's brim!</p> +<p class="i2">Like <i>Peter Bell</i> (unversed in woodland lore),</p> +<p>He'll miss your meaning; you will be to him</p> +<p class="i2">A yellow primrose—that and nothing more;</p> +<p class="i6">He'll read in you no sign</p> +<p>Of Nature's views about the datum-line.</p> + </div></div> +</td></tr></table> +<p class="author">O.S.</p> +<hr /> + +<h2>THE MINERS' OPERA.</h2> + +<p>About a week ago, when they took Titterby away to the +large red-brick establishment which he now adorns, certain +papers which were left lying in his study passed into my +hands, for I was almost his only friend. It had long been +Titterby's belief that a great future lay before the librettist +who should produce topical light operas on the <span class="sc">Gilbert</span> +and <span class="sc">Sullivan</span> model, dealing with our present-day economic +crises. The thing became an <i>idée fixe</i>, as the French say, +or, as we lamely put it in English, a fixed idea. There can +be no doubt that he was engaged in the terrible task of +fitting the current coal dispute to fantastic verse when +a brain-cell unhappily buckled, and he was found destroying +the works of his grand piano with a coal-scoop.</p> + +<p>Most of the MS. in my possession is blurred and undecipherable, +full of erasures, random stage-directions and +marginal notes, amongst which occasional passages such +as the following "emerge" (as Mr. <span class="sc">Smillie</span> would say):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"<i>Secretary.</i> The fellow is standing his ground,</p> +<p class="i10"> He's as stubborn and stiff as a war-mule.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Minister.</i> A</p> +<p class="i10"> Means will be found</p> +<p class="i10"> If we look all around</p> +<p class="i10"> To arrive at a suitable formula.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Chorus.</i> Yes, you've got to arrive at a formula."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Difficult though my task may be I feel it the duty of +friendship to attempt to give the public some faint outline +of this fascinating and curious work. Scenarios, <i>dramatis +personæ</i> and choruses had evidently caused the author +inordinate trouble, for at the top of one sheet I find:—</p> + +<p class="center">"ACT I.</p> + +<blockquote><p><i>Interior of a coal-mine. Groups of colliers with lanterns +and picks (? tongs). Enter Chorus of female consumers.</i>"</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Then follows this note:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"<i><span class="sc">Mem.</span> Can one dance in coal-mine? Look up <span class="sc">coal</span> +in 'Ency. Brit.' Also <span class="sc">cellar flap</span></i>;" +</p></blockquote> + +<p>and later on, at the end of a passage which evidently described +the dresses of the principal female characters introduced, +we have the words:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><i><span class="sc">"Britannia</span>. ? jumper, bobbed hair.<br /> +<span class="sc">Anarchy</span>. ? red tights</i>."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Nothing in this Act survives in a legible form, but in Act II. +we are slightly more fortunate:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>"<span class="sc">Scene.</span>—<i>Downing Street</i> (it begins). <i>Enter mixed Chorus +of private secretaries, female shorthand writers and representatives +of the Press, followed by Sir <span class="sc">Robert +Horne</span>, Mr. <span class="sc">Robert Williams</span> and Mr. <span class="sc">Smillie</span>.</i>"</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>What happens after this I can only roughly surmise, but +most probably Mr. <span class="sc">Smillie</span> proves false to Britannia and +flirts for some time with Anarchy, egged on by Mr. <span class="sc">Williams</span> +and urged by Sir <span class="sc">Robert Horne</span> to return to his earlier +flame. At any rate, after a little, the handwriting grows +clearer, and I read:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"<i>Mr. <span class="sc">Smillie</span> (striking the pavement with his pick)</i>.</p> +<p class="i10"> We mean to strike.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Chorus.</i> "He means to strike, he means to strike,</p> +<p class="i10"> Rash man! Did ever you hear the like</p> +<p class="i10"> Of what he has just asserted?</p> +<p class="i10"> Living is dear enough now, on my soul,</p> +<p class="i10"> What will it be when we can't get coal?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i><span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> (entering suddenly).</i></p> +<p class="i10"> This strike must be averted."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>There seems to have been some doubt as to how the +<span class="sc">Prime Minister's</span> entrance should be effected, for at this +point we get the marginal note: "<i>? From door of No. 10. +? On wings. ? Trap door. ? Riding St. Bernard Dog.</i>"</p> + +<p>But the difficulty was evidently settled, and the Chorus +begins again:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10"> "Oh, here is the wizard from Wales,</p> +<p class="i10"> The wonderful wizard from Wales,</p> +<p class="i10"> The British Prime Minister,</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i><span class="sc">Mr. Williams.</span></i> Subtle and sinister.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Chorus.</i> Oh, no! That is only your fancy.</p> +<p class="i10"> Disputes he can manage and check;</p> +<p class="i10"> All parties respond to his beck.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i><span class="sc">Mr. Williams.</span></i> He talks through the back of his neck!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Chorus.</i> When he talks through the back of his neck</p> +<p class="i10"> We call it his neck-romancy."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Of the arguments used by Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span> after this +spirited encouragement no record remains but the following +passage:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"My dear Mr. <span class="sc">Smillie</span>,</p> +<p>We value you highly</p> +<p class="i2">Howe'er so ferociously raven you.</p> +<p>We must find a way out,</p> +<p>And we shall do, no doubt,</p> +<p class="i2">If we only explore every avenue.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Chorus.</i> Yes, please, do explore every avenue.</p> + </div> </div> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>Exeunt Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span> and Mr. <span class="sc">Smillie</span> arm-in-arm, +R. (? followed by St. Bernard) and return +C. Exeunt L. and return C. again, and so on.</i></p></blockquote> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Chorus.</i> Oh, have you explored every avenue?"</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page264" id="page264"></a>[pg 264]</span> + +<p>Apparently they have, for later on we get—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"<i><span class="sc">Prime Minister.</span></i> Then why should you want to strike</p> +<p class="i2">When the Government saves your faces?</p> +<p>You can get more pay when you like</p> +<p class="i2">On the larger output basis."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>And the Chorus of course chimes in:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"They can get more pay when they like</p> +<p class="i2">On the larger output basis."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>And there is a note at the side: "<i>Chorus to wave arms upwards +and outwards, indicating increased production of coal.</i>"</p> + +<p>It seems to have been at some time after this, and probably +in Act III., that Titterby went, if I may put it so +vulgarly, off the hooks. I think he must have got on to +the conference between the mineowners and the representatives +of the miners, and struggled until the gas became +too thick for him. At any rate, after several unreadable +pages, the following unhappy fragment stands out clear:—</p> + +<p>"<i>Mr. <span class="sc">Smillie</span> still stands irresolute, running his fingers +through his hair.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Chorus of Mineowners</i> (<i>pointing at him</i>).</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Ruffled hair requires, I ween,</p> +<p>Something in the brilliantine</p> +<p class="i2">Or else in the pomatum line.</p> +<p>How shall we devise a balm</p> +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Smillie's</span> locks to calm?</p> +<p class="i2">Hullo! here comes the Datum-Line!</p> + </div> </div> + +<blockquote><p><i>Enter</i> Datum-Line. (<i>? can Datum-Line be personified? +? comic. ? check trousers. ? red whiskers.</i>)"</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Nothing more has been written, and it must have been +at this point, I suppose, that Titterby got up and assaulted +his piano. It all seems very sad.</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Evoe.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page263" id="page263"></a>[pg 263]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="./images/252.png"><img src="./images/252_th.png" alt="A PROSPECTIVE JONAH?" /></a> +<h3>A PROSPECTIVE JONAH?</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">The Captain</span> (<i>to Sir <span class="sc">Eric Geddes</span></i>). "I SOMETIMES WONDER WHETHER A MAN OF YOUR +ABILITY OUGHT NOT TO FIND A BETTER OPENING."</p> + +<p>[It is rumoured that the Ministry of Transport is to have a limited existence.]</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="./images/253.png"><img src="./images/253_th.png" alt="Lady talking to fishmonger." /></a> +<p><i>Lady.</i> "<span class="sc">No cod left, Mr. Brown?</span>" + + <i>Fishmonger</i> (<i>confidentially</i>). "<span class="sc">Well, Mrs. Snipps, I'll oblige you. I +always keeps a bit up my sleeve for reg'lar customers.</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONSOLATION.</h2> +<table summary="center poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>You may be very ugly and freckledy and small</p> +<p>And have a little stubby nose that's not a nose at all;</p> +<p>You may be bad at spelling and you may be worse at sums,</p> +<p>You may have stupid fingers that your Nanna says are thumbs,</p> +<p>And lots of things you look for you may never, never find,</p> +<p>But if you love the fairies—you don't mind.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>You may be rather frightened when you read of wolves and bears</p> +<p>Or when you pass the cupboard-place beneath the attic stairs;</p> +<p>You may not always like it when thunder makes a noise</p> +<p>That seems so much, much bigger than little girls and boys;</p> +<p>You may feel rather lonely when you waken in the night,</p> +<p>But if the fairies love you—<i>it's all right</i>.</p> + </div> </div> +</td></tr></table> + +<p class="author">R.F.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"I trust it may be sufficient to convince readers that Mr. Chesterton is +<b>continued at foot of next column</b>."—<i>Sunday Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>At last the ever-recurring problem of where to put the rest +of Mr. <span class="sc">Chesterton</span> has been solved.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page265" id="page265"></a>[pg 265]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<a href="./images/254.png"><img src="./images/254_th.png" alt="Fed-up Owner (to holiday Artist)." /></a> +<p><i>Fed-up Owner</i> (<i>to holiday Artist</i>). "<span class="sc">Charming, my dear young lady—charming—with +one important omission. You've forgotten to put in the notice on the +tree.</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE LITTLE MOA</h2> + +<h4>(<i>and how much it is</i>).</h4> + + +<p>I have been reading a lot about +Polynesia lately, and the conclusion +has been forced upon me that dining out +in that neighbourhood might be rather +confusing to a stranger.</p> + +<p>Imagine yourself at one of these +Antipodean functions. Your host is +seated at the head of the table with a +large fowl before him. Looking pleasantly +in your direction he says:—</p> + +<p>"Will you have a little moa?"</p> + +<p>Not being well up in the subject of +exotic fauna you will be tempted to +make one of the following replies:—</p> + +<p>(1) (With <i>Alice in Wonderland</i> in +your mind) "How can I possibly have +more when I haven't had anything at +all yet?"</p> + +<p>(2) "Yes, please, a lot more, or just +a little more," as capacity and appetite +dictate.</p> + +<p>(3) "No, thank you."</p> + +<p>The objection to reply No. 1 is that +it may cause unpleasantness, or your +host may retort, "I didn't ask you if +you would have a little more moa," and +thus increase your embarrassment.</p> + +<p>No. 2 is a more suitable rejoinder, +but probably No. 3 is the safest reply, +as some of these big birds require a lot +of mastication.</p> + +<p>In the event of your firing off No. 3, +your host glances towards the hostess +and says—</p> + +<p>"Oo, then" (pronounced "oh-oh").</p> + +<p>To your startled senses comes the +immediate suggestion, "Is the giver of +the feast demented, or is he merely rude?"</p> + +<p>Just as you are meditating an excuse +for leaving the table and the house, your +hostess saves the situation by saying +sweetly, "Do let me give you a little +oo," playfully tapping with a carvingknife +the breastbone of a winged creature +recumbent on a dish in front of her.</p> + +<p>It gradually dawns upon you that +you are among strange birds quite outside +the pale of the English Game Laws, +and that you will have to take a sporting +chance.</p> + +<p>While you are still in the act of +wavering the son of the house says, +"Try a little huia."</p> + +<p>If you like the look of this specimen +of Polynesian poultry you signify your +acceptance in the customary manner; +otherwise, in parliamentary phraseology, +"The Oos have it."</p> + +<p>For my own part I fancy that, unless +or until some of these unusual fowls +are extinct, I shall not visit Polynesia, +but rest content with Purley. Our +dinner-parties may be dull, but at least +one knows one's way about among the +dishes.</p> + +<hr /> + + +<h2>A BALLAD OF THE EARLY WORM.</h2> + +<table summary="center the poem"> +<tr><td> +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The gentle zephyr lightly blows</p> +<p class="i2">Across the dewy lawn,</p> +<p>And sleepily the rooster crows,</p> +<p class="i2">"Beloved, it is dawn."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The little worms in bed below</p> +<p class="i2">Can hear their father wince,</p> +<p>While, up above, a feathered foe</p> +<p class="i2">Is busy making mince.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>In vain they seize his slippery tail</p> +<p class="i2">And try to pull him back;</p> +<p>It makes their little cheeks turn pale</p> +<p class="i2">To hear his waistband crack.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>They draw him down and crowd around;</p> +<p class="i2">Their tears bespeak their love;</p> +<p>For part of him is underground</p> +<p class="i2">And part has gone above.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But not for long does sorrow seize</p> +<p class="i2">The subterranean mind,</p> +<p>For father grows another piece</p> +<p class="i2">In front or else behind.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And now he's up before the dawn,</p> +<p class="i2">Long ere the world has stirred,</p> +<p>And eats his breakfast on the lawn</p> +<p class="i2">Before the early bird.</p> + </div> </div> +</td></tr></table> +<hr /> + + +<h3>When the Young Lead the Young.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"Lady Nurse or Nursery Governess (young) +wanted for post near Ventnor, I.W., for boy +2½ years. Experience, similar age, and happy +disposition essential."—<i>Weekly Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Oxford, Tuesday.</p> + +<p>The Royal Commission on Oxford and Cambridge +Universities began its Oxford session +this afternoon in the Extermination Schools."—<i>Daily Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<p><i>Absit omen!</i></p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page266" id="page266"></a>[pg 266]</span> + + + + +<h2>THE CONSPIRATORS.</h2> + +<h3>II.</h3> + + +<p><span class="sc">My dear Charles,</span>—The Third International +is not a Rugby football match. +It is a corporation of thrusters whose +prospectus announces that it will very +shortly have your blood, having first acquired +exclusive rights in your money. +Have you two acres and a cow? Have +you seven pounds three and threepence +in the Post-Office Savings Bank? Have +you any blood? Very well, then; <span class="sc">this +concerns you</span>.</p> + +<p>There was a meeting of shareholders +in Moscow as recently as July last. +The Chairman said: "Gentlemen—I beg +your pardon, Comrades,—I am happy +to be able to report promising developments. +Our main enterprise in Russia, +for technical reasons with which I will +not now trouble you, is not for the moment +profit-producing; but we have +been able to promote some successful +ventures abroad. In all parts of the +civilised world—and Ireland—we may +anticipate a distribution of assets in the +near future." And among those assets +to be parcelled out are, I may say, your +acres, your cow, your savings and yourself.</p> + +<p>There followed a meeting of the +Executive Committee (I wish they +would avoid that tactless word "executive," +don't you?). Simple and brisk +instructions were drafted for foreign +agents, bidding them get on with it and +not spare themselves, or in any case not +spare anyone else. These were inscribed +on linen, which was folded over, with +the writing inside, and neatly hemmed. +Shortly afterwards a number of earnest +young men wearing tall collars and an +air of exaggerated innocence sought to +cross various frontiers and were surprised +and offended when rough and +rude officials stole their collars and set +about taking them to pieces.</p> + +<p>I hate to speak slightingly of anyone, +but these world-revolutionaries have no +business to be so young. According to +my view a professor of anarchy and assassination +ought to be a man of middle-age +with stiff stubble on his chin. He +has no business to be a pale and perspiring +youth, tending to long back hair +and apt to be startled by the slightest +sound when he is alone. And what a +lot of them write poetry, and such poetry +too! That is the manner of the man +who is going to seize your house and +usurp your cow, while you will be +lucky if you are allowed a place on a +perch in your own fowl-house.</p> + +<p>We had an opportunity of seeing +them in procession when a consignment +of these world-revolutionaries drove off +in state from Berne about the time of +the Armistice. I told you, last week, +that we had a Legation of them, very +kindly lent by the Moscow management, +and I also told you that our +Italian juggler had let us into the secret +of their midnight lucubrations, of which +we had duly informed the officials interested +in such matters. We had front +places when the motor lorry called for +them and the military escort arrived to +assist all the passengers to take, and +keep, their seats. Into the lorry were +packed the Minister Plenipotentiary +and Envoy Extraordinary, the Chargé +d'Affaires, the First Secretary, the +Second Secretary, the Third Secretary, +the Legal and Spiritual Advisers and +the Lady Typist. Their features were +not easy to distinguish; when the Bolshevists +assume dominion over us they +will not nationalize our soap. One +or two fell out, but were carefully replaced +by willing hands and bayonets; +and so home.</p> + +<p>Now that is a sight you don't often +see: a Diplomatique Corps being returned +to store in a motor lorry. The +disappointing thing about them was +that, for all their fiery propaganda and +for all their drastic resolutions, never +a one of them produced so much as +a squib-cracker. The only people to +derive any excitement from the affair +were the small children, who took it +for a circus.</p> + +<p>The best they could do for us was a +general strike. What all this had to do +with trades or unions nobody seemed +to know, least of all the workers. But +there was an attractive sound about +the then novel phrase, "Direct Action," +and it gave a sense of useful business +to that otherwise over-portly word, +"Proletariat." And the local politicians, +promised good jobs in <span class="sc">Lenin's</span> millennium, +made great use of the phrase, +"Dictatorship of the Proletariat." Thus +many an honest workman joined in +under the belief that it meant an +extra hour's holiday on Saturdays, an +extra hour in bed on Mondays and an +extra bob or two of wages.</p> + +<p>While it lasts, even a bloodless revolution +can be very tiresome; almost as +disquieting as a general election. Everybody +who isn't revoluting is mobilised +to keep the revolution from being molested. +There are no trams, because the +drivers are demonstrating; no shops, +because the shopmen are mobilised; no +anything, because everyone is out watching +the fun. So you go into the square +to watch also. You see little groups of +revolutionaries looking sullen and laboriously +class-hating. You see a lot of +soldiers looking very ordinary but trying +not to. The riff-raff scowl at the +soldiers, who are ordered out to shoot +at them. The soldiers scowl at the riff-raff +at whom they are ordered not to +shoot. And, for some reason which the +experts have not yet fathomed, it always +pours with rain.</p> + +<p>When we had succeeded in persuading +the soldier who was posted to guard +our hotel that we were not the proletariat +and might safely be let pass, we +found a gathering of inside-knowledge +people discussing the situation. The +Government ought to have known all +about it long before—how the Bolshevists +were stirring up trouble. "They +did," said we; "we told them." There +was a silence at this, but a smile on the +face of the audience which we at first +mistook for incredulity. We referred +darkly to our private information, derived, +as I told you in my last, from the +Italian juggler. "Did he do juggling +tricks with <i>your</i> ink-pots too?" asked the +French element. "How much money +did <i>you</i> give him?" asked all the other +elements. "And I suppose he also told +you," said the Italian officer, "that he +had no confidence in his own people +and that the British alone enjoyed his +respect?"</p> + +<p>At this moment the Americans came +in and asked us to quit arguing and +attend while they told us how they had +unearthed the great plot.... When +together we reckoned up the Italian +juggler's net takings we realised that it +is an ill revolution which brings no +one any good.</p> + + +<p class="author">Yours ever, +<span class="sc">Henry</span>.</p> + + +<h4>(<i>To be continued.</i>)</h4> + +<hr /> + +<h3>CUBBIN' THRO' THE RYE.</h3> + + +<p class="note"> +[Suggested by a recently reported incident +in the Midlands, when a pack divided, one +part getting out of hand and running among +standing crops.] +</p> + +<table summary="center the poem"> +<tr><td> +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Gin a body meet a body</p> +<p class="i2">Cubbin' thro' the rye,</p> +<p>Gin a body tell a body,</p> +<p class="i2">"Seed 'em in full cry,"</p> +<p>Useless then to blame the puppies,</p> +<p class="i2">Useless too to lie;</p> +<p>Whippers-in can't <i>always</i> stop 'em,</p> +<p class="i2">Even when they try.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Gin a body meet a body</p> +<p class="i2">Cubbin' thro' the rye,</p> +<p>What a body calls a body</p> +<p class="i2">Dare I say?—not I;</p> +<p>Farmers get distinctly stuffy,</p> +<p class="i2">Neither are they shy,</p> +<p>And Masters, when they're really rattled,</p> +<p class="i2">Sometimes make reply.</p> + </div> </div> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr /> + + +<h3>Brave News for Pussyfoot.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"A good many Church-people at home have +been pressing teetotalism, and are now pressing +Prohibition, and it is possible that they +may succeed about the time when the moon +grows cold."—<i>Weekly Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page267" id="page267"></a>[pg 267]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"><a href="./images/256.png"> +<img src="./images/256_th.png" alt="Sketches of Man playing games" /></a> +<h3>THE MAN YOU GIVE A GAME TO.</h3></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page268" id="page268"></a>[pg 268]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="./images/257.png"><img src="./images/257_th.png" alt="Group of boys under a tree." /></a> +<p><span class="sc">"Right-o. If yer wants a fight I'm ready. An' as we've only one pair +o' gloves, an' you're the youngest, I'll be a sport an' let you wear 'em."</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE MYSTERY OF THE APPLE-PIE BEDS.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>Leaves from a holiday diary.</i>)</h4> + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p>An outrage has occurred in the hotel. +Late on Monday night ten innocent +visitors discovered themselves the possessors +of apple-pie beds. The beds were +not of the offensive hair-brush variety, +but they were very cleverly constructed, +the under-sheet being pulled up in the +good old way and turned over at the top +as if it were the top-sheet.</p> + +<p>I had one myself. The lights go out +at eleven and I got into bed in the dark. +When one is very old and has not been +to school for a long time or had an +apple-pie bed for longer still, there is +something very uncanny in the sensation, +especially if it is dark. I did not like it +at all. My young +brother-in-law, Denys, +laughed immoderately +in the other bed at my +flounderings and imprecations. +He did +not have one. I suspect +him....</p> + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>Naturally the hotel +is very much excited. +It is the most thrilling +event since the +mixed foursomes. Nothing +else has been discussed +since breakfast. +Ten people had beds +and about ten people +are suspected. The +really extraordinary +thing is that numbers +of people seem to suspect +<i>me</i>! That is the +worst of being a professional +humourist; +everything is put down to you. When I +was accompanying Mrs. F. to-day she +suddenly stopped fiddling and said hotly +that someone had been tampering with +her violin. I know she suspected me. +Fortunately, however, I have a very +good answer to this apple-pie bed +charge. Eric says that his bed must +have been done after dinner, and I was +to be seen at the dance in the lounge +all the evening. I have an alibi.</p> + +<p>Besides I had a bed myself; surely +they don't believe that even a professional +humourist could be so bursting +with humour as to make himself an +apple-pie bed and not make one for his +brother-in-law in the same room! It +would be too much like overtime.</p> + +<p>But they say that only shows my +cleverness....</p> + +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>Then there is the question of the +Barkers. Most of the victims were +young people, who could not possibly +mind. But the Barkers had two, and +the Barkers are a respected middle-aged +couple, and nobody could possibly +make them apple-pie beds who did not +know them very well. That shows you +it can't have been me—I—me—that +shows you I couldn't have done it. I +have only spoken to them once.</p> + +<p>They say Mr. Barker was rather +annoyed. He has rheumatism and +went to bed early. Mrs. Barker discovered +about her bed before she got +in, but she didn't let on. She put out +the candle and allowed her lord to get +into his apple-pie in the dark. I think +I shall like her.</p> + +<p>They couldn't find the matches. I +believe he was quite angry....</p> + +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p>I suspect Denys and Joan. They +are engaged, and people in that state +are capable of anything. Neither of +them had one, and they were seen slipping +upstairs during the dance. They +say they went out on the balcony—a +pretty story....</p> + +<h3>V.</h3> + +<p>I suspect the Barkers. You know, +that story about Mrs. B. letting Mr. +B. get into his without warning him +was pretty thin. Can you imagine an +English wife doing a thing of that kind? +If you can it ought to be a ground for +divorce under the new Bill. But you +can't.</p> + +<p>Then all that stuff about the rheumatism—clever +but unconvincing. Mr. +Barker stayed in his room all the next +morning <i>when the awkward questions +were being asked</i>. Not well; oh, no! +But he was down for lunch and conducting +for a glee-party in the drawing-room +afterwards, as perky and active +as a professional. Besides, the really +unanswerable problem is, who could +have <i>dared</i> to make the Barkers' apple-pie +beds? And the answer is, nobody—except +the Barkers.</p> + +<p>And there must have been a lady in +it, it was so neatly done. Everybody +says no <i>man</i> could have done it. So +that shows you it couldn't have been +me—I—myself....</p> + +<h3>VI.</h3> + +<p>I suspect Mr. Winthrop. Mr. Winthrop +is fifty-three. He has been in +the hotel since this time last year, and +he makes accurate forecasts of the +weather. My experience is that a man +who makes accurate forecasts of the +weather may get up to any devilry. +And he protests too much. He keeps +coming up to me and making long +speeches to prove that he didn't do it. +But I never said he +did. Somebody else +started that rumour, +but of course he thinks +that I did. That comes +of being a professional +humourist.</p> + +<p>But I do believe he +did it. You see he is +fifty-three and doesn't +dance, so he had the +whole evening to do it +in.</p> + +<p>To-night we are going +to have a Court +of Inquiry....</p> + +<h3>VII.</h3> + +<p>We have had the +inquiry. I was judge. +I started with Denys +and Joan in the dock, +as I thought we must +have somebody there +and it would look +better if it was somebody +in the family. The first witness +was Mrs. Barker. Her evidence was +so unsatisfactory that I had to have +her put in the dock too. So was Mr. +Barker's. I was sorry to put him in +the dock, as he still had rheumatics. +But he had to go.</p> + +<p>So did Mr. Winthrop. I had no +qualms about him. For a man of his +age to do a thing like that seems to me +really deplorable. And the barefaced +evasiveness of his evidence! He simply +could not account for his movements +during the evening at all. When I +asked him what he had been doing at +9.21, and where, he actually said he +<i>didn't know</i>.</p> + +<p>Rather curious—very few people <i>can</i> +account for their movements, or anyone +else's. In most criminal trials the witnesses +remember to a minute, years +after the event, exactly what time they +went upstairs and when they passed +the prisoner in the lounge, but nobody +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page269" id="page269"></a>[pg 269]</span> +seems to remember anything in this +affair. No doubt it will come in time.</p> + +<p>The trial was very realistic. I was +able to make one or two excellent judicial +jokes. Right at the beginning I +said to the prosecuting counsel, "What +<i>is</i> an apple-pie bed?" and when he had +explained I said with a meaning look, +"You mean that the bed was not in +<i>apple-pie order</i>?" Ha, ha! Everybody +laughed heartily....</p> + +<h3>VIII.</h3> + +<p>In my address to the jury of matrons +I was able to show pretty clearly that +the crime was the work of a gang. I +proved that Denys and Joan must have +done the bulk of the dirty work, under +the tactical direction of the Barkers, +who did the rest; while in the background +was the sinister figure of Mr. +Winthrop, the strategical genius, the +lurking Macchiavelli of the gang.</p> + +<p>The jury were not long in considering +their verdict. They said: "We find, +your Lordship, that you did it yourself, +with some lady or ladies unknown."</p> + +<p>That comes of being a professional +humourist....</p> + +<h3>IX.</h3> + +<p>I ignored the verdict. I addressed +the prisoners very severely and sentenced +them to do the Chasm hole from +6.0 <span class="sc">a.m.</span> to 6.0 <span class="sc">p.m.</span> every day for a +week, to take out cards and play out +every stroke. "You, Winthrop," I +said, "with your gentlemanly cunning, +your subtle pretensions of righteousness—" +But there is no space for +that....</p> + +<h3>X.</h3> + +<p>As a matter of fact the jury were +quite right. In company with a lady +who shall be nameless I did do it. At +least, at one time I thought I did. Only +we have proved so often that somebody +else did it, we have shown so conclusively +that we can't have done it, that we find +ourselves wondering if we really did.</p> + +<p>Perhaps we didn't.</p> + +<p>If we did we apologise to all concerned—except, +of course, to Mr. Winthrop. +I suspect him.</p> + +<p class="author">A.P.H.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="./images/258.png"><img src="./images/258_th.png" alt="THE END OF THE SEASON." /></a> +<h3>THE END OF THE SEASON.</h3> + +<p><i>Sympathetic Friend.</i> <span class="sc">"Well, you've laid her up nicely for the winter, anyhow."</span></p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>MIXED METEOROLOGICAL MAXIMS.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>By a Student of Psychology.</i>)</h4> + +<table summary="center the poem"> +<tr><td> +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>When the glass is high and steady</p> +<p>For domestic broils be ready.</p> +<p>When the glass is low and jerky</p> +<p>Then look out for squalls in Turkey.</p> +<p>When the air is dull and damp</p> +<p>Keep your eye on Mr. <span class="sc">Cramp</span>.</p> +<p>When the air is clear and dry</p> +<p>On <span class="sc">Bob Williams</span> keep your eye.</p> +<p>When it's fine and growing finer</p> +<p>Keep your eye upon the miner.</p> +<p>When it's wet and growing wetter</p> +<p>'Twill be worse before it's better.</p> +<p>When the tide is at its ebb</p> +<p>Fix your gaze on <span class="sc">Sidney Webb</span>.</p> +<p>When the tide is at high level</p> +<p>Modernists discuss the Devil.</p> +<p>Floods upon the Thames or Kennet</p> +<p>Stimulate the brain of <span class="sc">Bennett</span>;</p> +<p>While a waterspout foretells</p> +<p>Fresh activities in <span class="sc">Wells</span>.</p> +<p>When it's calm in the Atlantic</p> +<p>Gooseberries become gigantic.</p> +<p>When it's rough in the Pacific</p> +<p>Laying hens are less prolific.</p> +<p>When the clouds are moving <i>largo</i></p> +<p>There is no restraining <span class="sc">Margot</span>.</p> +<p>When their movement is <i>con brio</i></p> +<p>'Ware <span class="sc">Chiozza Money (Leo)</span>!</p> +<p>When the sun is bright but spotty</p> +<p>Diarists become more dotty.</p> +<p>When the sun is dim and hazy</p> +<p>Diarists become more crazy.</p> +<p>When the nights are calm and still</p> +<p>Faster travels <span class="sc">Garvin's</span> quill.</p> +<p>When the blizzard's blast is hissing</p> +<p><span class="sc">Repington</span> is reminiscing.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>If you ponder well these lines</p> +<p>You can read the weather signs</p> +<p>In accordance with the rule</p> +<p>Binding both on sage and fool:—</p> +<p><i>Anything in mortal ken</i></p> +<p><i>May befall us anywhen.</i></p> + </div> </div> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr /> + + +<h3>Commercial Importunity.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"Services! Dozens other cars available, +£1,500 to £50. Call and insult us."—<i>Motor Journal.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + + +<h3>More Visions of the Unseen.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"The roads are peculiarly situated, and are +dangerous not only because they are main +cross roads, but also on account of the hidden +view they afford of each other."—<i>Local Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page270" id="page270"></a>[pg 270]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="./images/259.png"><img src="./images/259_th.png" alt="Teacher and girl at piano." /></a> +<p><i>Teacher.</i> "<span class="sc">And what does</span> <i>ff</i> <span class="sc">mean</span>?" + +<i>Pupil</i> (<i>after mature deliberation</i>). <span class="sc">"<i>Fump-Fump.</i></span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE DEVOTED LOVER.</h2> + +<p class="note"> +["Loiterers will be treated as trespassers."—<i>Notice on Tube Station.</i>] +</p> + +<table summary="center the poem"> +<tr><td> +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>No longer laud, my Jane, the ancient wooer</p> +<p class="i2">Who for the favours of his ladye fayre</p> +<p>Would sally forth to strafe the evil-doer</p> +<p class="i2">Or beard the dragon in his inmost lair;</p> +<p>Find it no more, dear heart, a ground for stray tiffs</p> +<p class="i2">Because, forsooth, you can't detect in me</p> +<p>A tendency to go out whopping caitiffs</p> +<p class="i2">Daily from ten till three.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He proved himself in his especial fashion,</p> +<p class="i2">Daring the worst to earn a lover's boon,</p> +<p>But I, no less than he a prey to passion,</p> +<p class="i2">Faced risks as great this very afternoon,</p> +<p>When at the Tube a long half-hour I waited</p> +<p class="i2">(In fond obedience to your written beck)</p> +<p>Where loiterers, it practically stated,</p> +<p class="i2">Would get it in the neck.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The liftmen who from time to time ascended</p> +<p class="i2">To spill their loads (in which you had no part)</p> +<p>Regarded me with eagle eyes intended</p> +<p class="i2">To lay the touch of terror on my heart;</p> +<p>But through a wait thus perilously dreary</p> +<p class="i2">My spirits drooped not nor my courage flinched;</p> +<p>"She cometh not," I merely sighed, "I'm weary</p> +<p class="i2">And likely to be pinched."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>You came at last, long last, to end my fretting,</p> +<p class="i2">And now you know how your devoted bard</p> +<p>Faced for your sake the risk of fine or getting</p> +<p class="i2">An unaccustomed dose of labour (hard);</p> +<p>Harbour no more that idiotic notion</p> +<p class="i2">That love to-day is unromantic, flat;</p> +<p>Gave <i>Lancelot</i> such a proof of his devotion,</p> +<p class="i2">Did <i>Galahad</i> do that?</p> + </div> </div> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page271" id="page271"></a>[pg 271]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<a href="./images/260.png"><img src="./images/260_th.png" alt="THE PRINCE COMES HOME." /></a> +<h3>THE PRINCE COMES HOME.</h3></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>PAMELA'S ALPHABET.</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Scene.</i>—<span class="sc">A Domestic Interior</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>Pamela's <i>father, in one armchair, is making a praiseworthy +effort to absorb an article in a review on "The Future of +British Finance." In another armchair</i> Pamela's <i>mother +is doing some sort of mending.</i> Pamela <i>herself, stretched +upon the hearthrug, is reading aloud interesting extracts +from a picture-book.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Pamela</i> (<i>in a cheerful sing-song</i>). A for Donkey; B for +Dicky.</p> + +<p><i>Her Father.</i> What sort of dicky?</p> + +<p><i>Pamela</i> (<i>examining the illustration more closely</i>). All +ugly black, bissect for his blue mouf.</p> + +<p><i>Her Mother</i> (<i>instructively</i>). Not blue; yellow. And it's +a beak, not a mouth.</p> + +<p><i>Pamela.</i> I calls it a mouf. He's eating wiv it. (<i>With +increasing disfavour</i>) A poor little worm he's eating. +Don't like him; he's crool. (<i>She turns the page hurriedly +and continues</i>) C for Pussy; D for Mick.</p> + +<p>[<i>This is the name of the family mongrel. That the +picture represents an absolutely thoroughbred collie +matters nothing to</i> Pamela. <i>She spends some time in +admiring</i> Mick, <i>then rapidly sweeps over certain illustrations +that fail to attract.</i></p> + +<p><i>Pamela</i> (<i>stopping at the sight of a web-footed fowl, triumphantly</i>). +G for Quack-quack.</p> + +<p><i>Her Father.</i> Oh, come, Pamela, that's not a quack-quack; +that's a goose. It makes quite a different noise.</p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page272" id="page272"></a>[pg 272]</span> + +<p>[<i>Anticipating an immediate demand for a goose's noise +he clears his throat nervously.</i></p> + +<p><i>Pamela</i> (<i>with authority</i>). This one isn't making any noise. +It's jus' thinking. (<i>Her father accepts the correction and +swallows again.</i>) H for Gee-gee. Stupid gee-gee.</p> + +<p><i>Her Father.</i> Why stupid?</p> + +<p><i>Pamela.</i> 'Acos its tail looks silly.</p> + +<p><i>Her Father</i> (<i>glancing at the tail, which bears some resemblance +to an osprey's feather</i>). You're right; it does.</p> + +<p><i>Her Mother.</i> I wonder whether it's wrong to let children +get accustomed to bad drawings?</p> + +<p><i>Her Father.</i> Pamela doesn't get accustomed—she criticises. +If it weren't for a silly tail here, a stupid face there, +her critical faculty might lie for ever dormant.</p> + +<p><i>Pamela</i> (<i>having turned over four or five pages with one +grasp of the hand, as if determined to suppress the unsatisfactory +horse</i>). R for Bunny.</p> + +<p><i>Her Mother.</i> No, dear, Rabbit. R for <i>R</i>abbit. B for <i>B</i>unny.</p> + +<p><i>Pamela</i> (<i>gently</i>). No; B is for Dicky. The ugly dicky wiv +the blue mouf.</p> + +<p><i>Her Father</i> (<i>rashly</i>). The blackbird.</p> + +<p><i>Pamela</i> (<i>conscious of superior knowledge</i>). That isn't its +name. That's what it looks like, all black; but its name +is Dicky. B for Dicky.</p> + +<p><i>Her Father.</i> Well, have it your own way. What does +S stand for?</p> + +<p><i>Pamela</i> (<i>turning to the likeness of an elderly quadruped, +with great assurance</i>). Baa-lamb!</p> + +<p><i>Her Father.</i> Sometimes we call baa-lambs sheep.</p> + +<p><i>Pamela.</i> I don't.</p> + +<p><i>Her Father.</i> You will when you grow older.</p> + +<p><i>Pamela.</i> I won't be any older, not for ever so long. Not +till next birfday. (<i>Pushing her book away and assuming an +air of extreme infancy</i>) Tired of reading. Want a piggy-back, +<i>please</i>!</p> + +<p><i>Her Father</i> (<i>firmly taking up his review again</i>). Not just +now. I'm busy with a picture-book.</p> + +<p>[<i>A reproachful silence falls upon the room.</i></p> + +<p><i>Pamela</i> (<i>presently, in a mournful chant</i>). A for Don-key. +B for Dicky—</p> + +<p class="center"><i>The Scene closes.</i></p> + + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="./images/261.png"><img src="./images/261_th.png" alt="Two sailors on the deck of a ship." /> +</a> +<h3>MORE OUTLINES OF HISTORY.</h3> + +<p><i>Sailor.</i> <span class="sc">"We have just seen some orange-peel and banana-skins floating on the starboard, Sir</span>."</p> + +<p><i>Columbus.</i> "<span class="sc">Was there any chewing-gum</span>?"</p> + +<p><i>Sailor.</i> "<span class="sc">No, Sir</span>."</p> + +<p><i>Columbus.</i> <span class="sc">"Then it must be the West Indies we're coming to, +and I'd hoped it was going to be America</span>."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>FLOWERS' NAMES.</h2> + +<h4><span class="sc">Crow's-Foot</span>.</h4> +<table summary="center poem"><tr><td> +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Have you noticed that the splendid dreams, the best dreams that there are,</p> +<p>Come always in the darkest nights without a single star?</p> +<p>When the moonless nights are blackest the best dreams are about;</p> +<p>I'll tell you why that should be so and how I found it out.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>There's a bird who comes at night-time, and underneath his wings,</p> +<p>All warm and soft and feathery, lie tiny fairy things;</p> +<p>He spreads his wings out widely (you see them, not the dark)</p> +<p>And you hear the fairies whispering, "Hush! hush!" "I'll tell you!" "Hark!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The bird is black and feathery, but his feet are made of gold;</p> +<p>He chiefly comes in summer-time, for fairies hate the cold;</p> +<p>And if the nights are velvet-dark and full of summer airs</p> +<p>He lingers till the sun creeps up and finds him unawares.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And so you'll see in summer-time, when all the dew is wet,</p> +<p>The footprints of his golden claws maybe will linger yet;</p> +<p>The little golden flower-buds will gleam like golden grain,</p> +<p>And if you pick and cherish them perhaps you'll dream again.</p> + </div> </div></td></tr></table> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page273" id="page273"></a>[pg 273]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="./images/262.png"><img src="./images/262_th.png" alt="Old man and boy." /></a> +<p class="sc">"Have you ever been up in an aeroplane, Grandpa?" + +"No, my boy—not yet."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>HONOURS EASY.</h2> + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p>Not very long ago the following +advertisements appeared in the same +column of <i>The Southshire Daily Gazette</i>:</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Lost, a pure black Pekinese dog, wearing a +silver badge marked 'Cherub.' Handsome +reward offered. F.B., Grand Hotel, Brightbourne."</p> + +<p>"Found, a black Pekinese, wearing a silver +badge marked 'Cherub.' No reward required. +The Limes, Cheviot Road, Brightbourne." +</p></blockquote> + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>On the same morning the paper was +opened and scanned almost simultaneously +by Mrs. Frederick Bathurst in +the sitting-room which she and her +husband occupied at the Grand Hotel, +and by Mr. Hartley Friend in the +morning-room at "The Limes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fred," exclaimed Mrs. Bathurst, +"Cherub has been found. He's all +safe at a house called 'The Limes,' in +Cheviot Road. Isn't that splendid?"</p> + +<p>"Very good news," said her husband. +"I told you not to worry."</p> + +<p>"It's a direct answer to prayer," +said Mrs. Bathurst. "But—"</p> + +<p>"But what?" her husband inquired.</p> + +<p>"But I do wish you had taken my +advice not to offer any reward. You +might so easily have left it open. +People aren't so mercenary as all that. +It stands to reason that anyone staying +at an hotel like this and bringing a +dog with them—always an expensive +thing to do—and valuing it enough to +advertise its loss, would behave properly +when the time came."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Mr. Bathurst replied. +"Does anything stand to reason? The +ordinary dog-thief, holding up an animal +to ransom, might be deterred from returning +it if no mention of money was +made. You remember we decided on +that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, I don't think so. You +merely had your way again, that was +all. I was always against offering a +reward. And the word 'handsome' too. +In any case I never agreed to that. +You put that in later. Another thing," +Mrs. Bathurst continued, "I knew it +in some curious way—in my bones, as +they say—that the fineness of Cherub's +nature, its innocence, its radiant friendliness, +would overcome any sordidness +in the person who found him, poor darling, +all lost and unhappy. No one +who has been much with that simple +sweet character could fail to be the +better for it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bathurst coughed.</p> + +<p>"That is so?" his wife persisted.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Bathurst, after +helping himself to another egg, "let us +hope so, at any rate."</p> + +<p>"It's gone beyond mere hope," said +his wife triumphantly. "Listen to +this;" and she read out the sentence +from the second advertisement, "'No +reward required.' There," she added, +"isn't that proof? I'll go round to +Cheviot Road directly after breakfast +and say how grateful we are, and bring +the darling back."</p> + +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>Meanwhile at "The Limes" Mr. +Hartley Friend was pacing the room +with impatient steps.</p> + +<p>"I do wish you would try to be less +impulsive," he was saying to his wife. +"Anything in the nature of business +you would be so much wiser to leave +to me."</p> + +<p>"What is it now?" Mrs. Friend asked +with perfect placidity.</p> + +<p>"This dog," said her husband, "that +fastened itself on you in this deplorable +way—whatever possessed you to rush +into print about it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I rushed, as you say. +Think of the feelings of the poor woman +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page274" id="page274"></a>[pg 274]</span> +who has lost her pet. It was the only +kind thing to do."</p> + +<p>"'Poor woman' indeed! I assure +you she's nothing of the sort. One +would think you were a millionaire to +be ladling out benefactions like this. +'No reward required.' Fancy not even +asking for the price of the advertisement +to be refunded!"</p> + +<p>"But that would have been so +squalid."</p> + +<p>"'Squalid!' I've no patience with +you. Justice isn't squalor. It's—it's +justice. As for your 'poor woman,' +listen to this." And he read out the +Bathurst advertisement with terrible +emphasis on the words "Handsome +reward offered." "Do you hear that—'handsome'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I hear," said his wife amiably; +"but that isn't my idea of making +money."</p> + +<p>"I hope you don't suppose it's mine," +said her husband. "But there is such +a thing as common sense. Why on +earth the accident of this little brute +following us home should run us into +the expense of an advertisement and a +certain amount of food and drink I'm +hanged if I can see."</p> + +<p>"Well, dear," said his wife with the +same amiability, "if you can't see it I +can't make you."</p> + + +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p>A few minutes later the arrival of "a +lady who's come for the Peek" was +announced.</p> + +<p>"No," said Mr. Friend as his wife +rose, "leave it to me. I'll deal with +it. The situation is very delicate."</p> + +<p>"How can I thank you enough," began +Mrs. Bathurst, "for being so kind +and generous about our little angel? +My husband and I agreed that nothing +more charmingly considerate can ever +have been done."</p> + +<p>At this point Mrs. Friend followed +her husband into the room, and Mrs. +Bathurst renewed her expressions of +gratitude.</p> + +<p>"But at any rate," she added to her, +"you will permit me to defray the cost +of the advertisement? I could not allow +you to be at that expense."</p> + +<p>Before Mrs. Friend could speak her +husband intervened. "No, madam," +he said, "I couldn't think of it. Please +don't let the mention of money vulgarize +a little friendly act like this. We +are only too glad to have been the +means of reuniting you and your pet."</p> + +<p class="author">E.V.L.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 340px;"> +<a href="./images/263.png"><img src="./images/263_th.png" +alt="Street scene--Man on corner, two women and a child." /></a> +<p><i>Lady with Pram</i> (<i>who has been pointing out to newcomer the beauties of the neighbourhood, +where a strike is threatened</i>). <span class="sc">"That's one of the 'Ot 'Eads</span>."</p></div> + + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Rufford Abbey is, of course, a wonderful +old place, and all the front, from gable to +gable, is genuine tenth-century, built in 1139."—<i>Sunday Times.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>It looks as if the ca' canny idea was +not so new as we thought it.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2> + +<h3 class="sc">"Every Woman's Privilege."</h3> + +<p>When <i>Dahlia</i> refused the hand of a +wealthy middle-aged nut, with faultless +knickerbockers and a gift for lucubrated +epigrams, preferring to throw in +her lot (platonically) with a young and +penniless social reformer, we took no +notice of those who feared a scandal +("scandals are not what they were," as +she said), nor of the girl's assertion +that she had no use for the alleged +romance of marriage. We were confident +that the little god whose image, +with bow and arrow, stood in the garden +of <i>Dahlia's</i> ancestral home, would put +things right for us in the end. Yet we +were not greatly annoyed when he made +a mess of his business and married her +to the wrong man; for in the meantime +such strange things had been +allowed to occur and the right man +had proved such a disappointment that +we didn't much care what happened to +anybody.</p> + +<p>It was the rejected lover, <i>Mortimer +Jerrold</i>, who conceived two bright ideas +for conquering her independence of +mind, apparently for the benefit of his +rival. First he contrived to get <i>Harold +Glaive</i>, the young socialist, selected as a +candidate for Parliament, hoping (if I +read the gentleman's motive rightly) +that his probable failure would touch +the place where her heart should have +been. This scheme did not go very +well, for he was chosen to contest the +seat held by <i>Dahlia's</i> own father (which +caused a lot of trouble), and in the +result beat him.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile <i>Jerrold</i> had had an alternative +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page275" id="page275"></a>[pg 275]</span> +brain-wave. He thought that +if he pinched the latchkey of <i>Dahlia's</i> +Bloomsbury flat, broke in at night, and +made a show of assaulting her modesty +he could prove to her that she was only +a poor weak woman after all. Nothing, +you would say, could well have been more +stupid. Yet, according to Mr. <span class="sc">Hastings +Turner's</span> showing (and who were we +to challenge his authority?) it came off. +We were, in fact, asked to believe that +a girl who had protested her freedom +from all sense of sex was suddenly made +conscious of it by the violence of a man +whose advances, when decently conducted, +had left her cold; and from that +moment developed an inclination to +marry him. An assault by a tramp or +an apache would apparently have served +almost as well for the purpose. If this +is "Every Woman's Privilege" it is +fortunate that so few of them get the +chance of exercising it.</p> + +<p>Miss <span class="sc">Marie Löhr</span> herself came very +well out of a play that can hardly add +to the author's reputation. Her personality +lent itself to a part which +demanded a blend of feminine charm +with a boyish contempt for romance. +And she had a few good things to say. +It was not Mr. <span class="sc">Hallard's</span> fault if he +failed to win our perfect sympathy for +a hero whom the heroine addressed as +"Spats." As for Mr. <span class="sc">Basil Rathbone</span>, +who played the part of <i>Harold Glaive</i>, +I cannot imagine why he took it on. +Apart from his timorous declaration of +love, conveyed on a typewriter, there +was no colour in it, and nothing whatever +to show why his passion petered out. +I think that the author, in his surprise at +the success of <i>Harold's</i> rival, must have +forgotten all about it. Mr. <span class="sc">Herbert +Ross</span> was excellent as <i>Dahlia's</i> father, +a pleasantly futile baronet under the +thumb of a sour-tongued managing +female, an old-fashioned part in which +Miss <span class="sc">Helen Rous</span> has nothing to learn. +Miss <span class="sc">Vane Featherston</span>, as the lady +who finally absorbed the baronet, did +her little gratuitous piece all right.</p> + +<p>I cannot get myself to believe that +all these intelligent actors are under +any illusion as to the merits of the +comedy. With the best wishes in the +world for the success of Miss <span class="sc">Marie +Löhr's</span> enterprises, I am bound to regard +it as yet another instance of a play +where the attractions of the leading +part have a little deranged the judgment +of the actor-manager.</p> + +<p class="author">O.S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3 class="sc">"The Crossing."</h3> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 290px;"> +<a href="./images/264.png"><img src="./images/264_th.png" alt="Two men talking." /></a> +<p><i>Richard Petafor</i> (Mr. <span class="sc">Hubert Harben</span>), the +apostle of Materialism and Physical Exercise, +trying to convert <i>Antony Grimshaw</i> (Mr. <span class="sc">Herbert +Marshall</span>), the believer in Mysticism +and Armchairs.</p></div> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Algernon Blackwood</span> and Mr. +<span class="sc">Bertram Forsyth</span> (assisted by Mr. +<span class="sc">Donald Calthrop</span>) present to us in +<i>The Crossing</i> a certain <i>Mr. Anthony +Grimshaw</i>, a princely egotist of the +poetic-idealist type who gets up on the +hearth-rug and says to his family, "I +am a humanitarian before everything," +and things like that, and then wonders +why his wife is estranged from him. +He has a daughter, <i>Nixie</i>, who is not old +enough to know how bad all this is, and +together they hear the wind singing +glees without words (or in Volapuk, +but anyway not intelligible to us poor +normals), a thing Mr. <span class="sc">Algernon Blackwood</span> +has been doing or pretending to +do for years without once taking me in.</p> + +<p><i>Anthony</i> is run over and (as we say) +dies. After an extraordinarily tiresome +conversation in the morning-room with +his friend and his son and his mother +(who are also what people call dead) it +dawns upon him that something odd +has happened to himself also. His wife +and two children, after his (so-called) +death, become blissfully happy and set +to work to finish his book, that being, +as they think, his wish. Well, I wonder. +At any rate in death (as we say) +he was not divided—from his egotisms.</p> + +<p>One knows well enough, alas, how +the temptation to spiritual drug-taking +has grown as the result of the accumulated +sorrows of these past years, but +it is not well that such a treatment +of the eternal question should be taken +seriously. Is this sort of thing really +better than the harp-and-cloud theory? +It is not. One looked in vain for any +trace of real vision, any true sense of the +height and depth of the problem.</p> + + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Marshall</span> struggled quite manfully +with the part of <i>Anthony</i>, and of +course he had his moments. I hope +so good a player is not developing the +"actor's pause," of which I detected +signs. Miss <span class="sc">Irene Rooke</span> had nothing +in particular to do and did it very well. +Mr. <span class="sc">Hubert Harben</span> as the impenitent +profiteer from Lancashire, <i>Anthony's</i> +brother-in-law, was better suited than +I have seen him for some time, and +provided the very necessary relief. The +precocious children infuriated me, but +that is purely temperamental. The +actors who played the parts of those who +had "crossed" were wrapped in such +an atmosphere of gloom, to the strains +of such meretricious music that (on the +evidence) I can only advise people to +defer their crossing as long as possible; +a thing they will doubtless do, even if +they have a friendlier feeling to the new +religion than I can command.... I +am afraid I proved a bad sailor.</p> + +<p class="author">T.</p> +<hr /> + + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page276" id="page276"></a>[pg 276]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 348px;"><a href="./images/265.png"><img src="./images/265_th.png" alt="THE DREAM OF BLISS." /></a><h3>THE DREAM OF BLISS.</h3></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page277" id="page277"></a>[pg 277]</span> +<hr /> + +<h2>TWO STUDIES IN MUSICAL +CRITICISM.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>With grateful acknowledgments to "The +Times" and "The Morning Post."</i>)</h4> + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p>We had quite a hectic time at the +Philharmonic—I nearly wrote the +Phillemonade—concert last night, what +with two Czechs, Dabçik and Ploffskin, +slabs of <span class="sc">Wagner</span>, and Carl Walbrook's +Humorous Variations, "The Quangle +Wangle," conducted by Carl himself. +If the honest truth be told, we sat down +to the Variations with no more pleasurable +anticipation than one sits down with +in the dentist's chair, preparatory to the +application of gags, electric drills and +other instruments of odontological torture. +(Strange, by the way, that no +modernist has translated the horrors +of the modern Tusculum into terms of +sound and fury!) But we were most +agreeably surprised to find ourselves +following every one of the forty-nine +Variations with breathless interest. Mr. +Walbrook is indeed a case of the deformed +transformed. We found hardly +a trace of the poluphloisboisterous pomposity +with which he used to camouflage +his dearth of ideas. His main +theme is shapely and sinuous, and its +treatment in most of the Variations +titillated us voluptuously. But, since +it is the function of the critic to criticise, +let us justify our <i>rôle</i> by noting that the +scoring throughout tends to glutinousness, +like that of the pre-war Carlsbad +plum; further, that a solo on the muted +viola against an accompaniment of sixteen +sarrusophones is only effective if +the sarrusophones are prepared to roar +like sucking-doves, which, as <span class="sc">Lear</span> +would have said, "they seldom if ever +do." Still, on the whole the Variations +arrided us vastly.</p> + + +<p>It was a curious but exhilarating +experience to hear the Bohemians, the +playboys of Central Europe, interpreted +in the roast-beef-and-plum-pudding +style of the Philharmonic at its beefiest +and plummiest. Dabçik survived the +treatment fairly well, but poor Ploffskin +was simply stodged under. But they +were in the same boat with <span class="sc">Richard</span> +the Elder, whose Venusberg music was +given with all the orgiastic exuberance +of a Temperance Band at a Sunday-School +Treat, recalling the sarcastic +jape of old <span class="sc">Hans Richter</span> during the +rehearsal of the same work: "You play +it like teetotalers—which you are +not." Yet the orchestra were lavish +of violent sonority where it was not +required; the well-meaning but unfortunate +Mr. Orlo Jimson, who essayed +the "Smithy Songs" from <i>Siegfried</i>, +being submerged in a very Niagara of +noise. <span class="sc">Wagner's</span> scoring no doubt is +"a bit thick," but then he devised a +special "spelunk" (as <span class="sc">Bacon</span> says) for +his orchestra to lurk in, and there is +no cavernous accommodation at the +Queen's Hall.</p> + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>Though fashion considers September +as an unpropitious time for the production +of novelties, the scheme arranged +for the patrons of the Philharmonic Concert +last night, under the direction of +Sir Henry Peacham, was successful in +bringing together an audience of eminently +respectable dimensions. The +occasion served for the launching under +favourable circumstances of what constituted +the chief landmark of the programme—a +set of orchestral variations +with the quaint title of "The Quangle +Wangle," from the prolific pen of +Mr. Carl Walbrook. It is satisfactory +to be able to record the gratifying fact +that this work met with cordial acceptance. +In the interests of serious art, +the borrowing of a title from one of the +works of a writer so addicted to levity +as <span class="sc">Edward Lear</span> may perhaps be deprecated, +but there can be no doubt of the +ingenuity and sprightliness with which +Mr. Walbrook has addressed himself +to, and accomplished, his task. If we +cannot discover in his composition the +manifestation of any pronounced individuality +or high artistic uplift, it none +the less commands the respect due to +the exhibition of a vigorous mentality +combined with a notable mastery of +orchestral resource and mellifluous +modulation. At the conclusion of the +performance Mr. Walbrook was constrained +to make the transit from the +artistes' room to the platform no fewer +than three times before the applausive +zeal of the audience could be allayed.</p> + +<p>The remainder of the scheme was +copious and well-contrived. Pleasurable +evidence of the friendly interest +shown in the fortunes of the Czecho-Slovakian +Republic was forthcoming +in the performance of two works by +composers of that interesting race—Messrs. +Dabçik and Ploffskin—of +which it may suffice to say that the +temperamental peculiarities of the +Bohemian genius were elicited with +conspicuous brilliancy under the inspiring +direction of Sir Henry Peacham. In +a vocal item from <i>Siegfried</i>, Mr. Orlo +Jimson evinced a sympathetic appreciation +of the emotional needs of the situation +which augurs favourably for his +further progress, and the powerful +support furnished him by the orchestra +was an important factor in the enjoyment +of his praiseworthy efforts. An +almost too vivacious rendering of the +Venusberg music brought the scheme to +a strepitous conclusion. It may, however, +be submitted that so realistic an +interpretation of the Pagan revelries +depicted by the composer is hardly in +accordance with the best traditions of +the British musical public.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="./images/266.png"> +<img src="./images/266_th.png" alt="Lady talking to bus driver" /></a> +<p><i>Fussy Old Party</i> (<i>who likes to make sure</i>). +<span class="sc">"Are you <i>certain</i> you go to Tunbridge Wells</span>?"</p> + +<p><i>Driver</i> (<i>to Conductor</i>). <span class="sc">"'Ere, Bill, we <i>are</i> careless. Someone must have pinched the name-boards when we weren't looking</span>."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"There is no such thing as infallibility in +rerum naturæ."—<i>Provincial Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Nor, apparently, in journalistic Latin.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Reward.—Bedroom taken Tuesday, 27th, +between Holborn and Woburn-place. A basket +and umbrella left."—<i>Daily Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We compliment the victim of this theft +on his courtesy in calling the thieves' +attention to their oversight.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page278" id="page278"></a>[pg 278]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="./images/267.png"><img src="./images/267_th.png" alt="Man lying on ground in field" /></a> +<p><i>Exhausted War Profiteer.</i> "<span class="sc">Deer forests for the 'idle rich' be blowed! The 'new poor' can 'ave 'em for me</span>."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</h4> + +<p>The long-promised <i>Herbert Beerbohm Tree</i> (<span class="sc">Hutchinson</span>), +than which I have expected no book with more impatience, +turns out to be a volume full of lively interest, though +rather an experiment in snap-shot portraiture from various +angles than a full-dress biography. Mr. <span class="sc">Max Beerbohm</span> +has arranged the book, himself contributing a short memoir +of his brother, which, together with what Lady <span class="sc">Tree</span> aptly +calls her <i>Reverie</i>, fills some two-thirds of it with the more +intimate view of the subject, the rest being supplied by the +outside appreciations of friends and colleagues. If I were +to sum up my impression of the resulting picture it would +be in the word "happiness." Not without reason did the +<span class="sc">Trees</span> name a daughter <span class="sc">Felicity</span>. Here was a life spent +in precisely the kind of success that held most delight for +the victor—honour, love, obedience, troops of friends; all +that <i>Macbeth</i> missed his exponent enjoyed in flowing measure. +Perhaps <span class="sc">Tree</span> was never a great actor, because he +found existence too "full of a number of things"; if so he +was something considerably jollier, the enthusiastic, often +inspired amateur, approaching each new part with the zest +of a brief but brilliant enthusiasm. I suppose no popular +favourite ever had his name associated with more good +stories and wit, original and vicarious. Despite some entertaining +extracts from his commonplace book I doubt if this +side of him is quite worthily represented; at least nothing +here quoted beats Lady <span class="sc">Tree's</span> own <i>mot</i> for a mendacious +newspaper poster—<i>Canard à la Press</i>. Possibly we are still +to look for a more official volume of reference; meantime the +present memoir gives a vastly readable sketch of one whose +passing left a void perhaps unexpectedly hard to fill.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>In the prefatory chapter of <i>Our Women</i> (<span class="sc">Cassell</span>) +Mr. <span class="sc">Arnold Bennett</span> coyly disclaims any intention of +tackling his theme on strictly scientific principles. The +warning is perhaps hardly necessary, since, apart from the +duty which the author owes to his public as a novelist +rather than a philosopher, the title alone should be a sufficient +guide. One would hardly expect a serious zoologist, for +instance, in attempting to deal with the domesticated fauna, +to entitle his work <i>Our Dumb Friends</i>. The book is divided +in the main between adjuration and prophecy. As a result +of their emancipation from economic slavery, Mr. <span class="sc">Bennett</span> +expects women—women, that is to say, of the "top class," +as he calls it—to adopt more and more the <i>rôle</i> of professional +wage-earners; but at the same time he insists +that they do not as yet take themselves seriously enough +as professional housekeepers. How the two functions are +to be combined it is a little difficult to see, but apparently +women are to retain a profession as a stand-by in case they +fail to marry or to remain married. At the same time +Mr. <span class="sc">Bennett</span> takes it for granted that woman will never +relinquish her position as a charmer of man, or even the +use of cosmetics and expensive lingerie. Speaking neither +as a novelist nor as a philosopher, I cannot help feeling +that Mr. <span class="sc">Bennett</span> is too apt to consider the things he +particularly likes about women to be eternal, and those +that he does not like so much to be susceptible of alteration +and improvement. Anyhow, it looks as if Our Men were +going to have rather a thin time.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Miss <span class="sc">Beatrice Harraden</span> calls her latest story <i>Spring +Shall Plant</i> (<span class="sc">Hodder and Stoughton</span>). She might equally +well have called it <i>The Successes of a Naughty Child</i>. +Certainly it is chiefly concerned with the many triumphant +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page279" id="page279"></a>[pg 279]</span> +insubordinations of <i>Patuffa</i> (whom I suspect of having +been encouraged by her too challenging name) both at home +and at the various schools from which she either ran away +or was returned with thanks. This is all mildly attractive +if only from the vivacity of its telling; but I confess to +having felt a mild wonder whether a child's book had not +got on to my table by error—when the grown-ups suddenly +began to carry on in a way that placed all such doubts at +rest. There was, for example, a Russian lady, godmother +of <i>Patuffa</i>, who escaped from somewhere and established +herself, with others of her kind, in an attic in Coptic Street. +My welcome for this interesting fugitive was to some extent +shaken by a realisation that she was (so to speak) a refugee +from the other side and, in a sense, a spiritual ancestress +of Bolshevism. Miss <span class="sc">Harraden</span> would however object, +and justly, that the clean-purposed conspirators of the +earlier revolution had little in common with the unsavoury +individuals who at present obscure the Russian dawn. +Soon after this, <i>Patuffa's</i> papa begins to go quite dreadfully +off the rails, even to +the extent of wishing +to elope with her +governess and eventually +losing all his +money and shooting +himself. There was +also a famous violinist—well, +you can see +already that <i>Patuffa's</i> +vernal experiences +were on generous lines. +It is to the credit of +all concerned that she +and her story retain +an appreciable charm +under adverse conditions.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Nothing, one would +imagine, could promise +much more restful +reading than a +book that concerns +itself with such things +as christening robes +for caterpillars, the +dyeing blue of white chickens and searches among Californian +lilies and pine-trees for the soul of a hog unseasonably defunct. +But, since this most uncharitable age refuses to +believe anything just because it is told it should, the peaceful +pages of <i>The Diary of Opal Whiteley</i> (<span class="sc">Putnam</span>) are unfortunately +fussed over with a controversy that no one who +reads them can quite escape. Miss <span class="sc">Whiteley's</span> diary is presented +with every circumstance of solemn asseveration as the +unaided work of a child of seven, only now pieced together +by the writer after quite a number of years. If you care +to throw yourself into the argument you will certainly find +heaps of reasons for thinking unkind thinks, as the writer +would say, of the truth of this claim, particularly in the +completeness with which every incident is carried through +various stages to its literary finish; but, if you will be ruled +by me, you will try to forget anything but the book itself, +with its quite charming pictures of many animals and one +little girl, their understanding friend. The quaint idiom +in which the diary is supposed to have been written (or, of +course, was written) adds to the delight of a rather uncommon +feeling for nature at its simplest, while the scrapes for which +the small heroine receives (or, you may say, is alleged to +receive) well-deserved punishment preserve the book from +ever dropping into mere mawkishness. A great pity, I +think, that it was not published rather as based on childish +memories than as the actual printed script of a prodigy.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>Moon Mountains</i> (<span class="sc">Hurst and Blackett</span>) is a story which +with the best will in the world I found it impossible to regard +wholly seriously. The greater part of the scene is laid in +Darkest Africa, where the father of the hero, <i>Peter</i> (my hope +that the <i>Peter</i> habit had blown over appears to have been +premature), disappears at an early stage. The subsequent +course of events reminds me of the words of the musical-comedy +poet, popular in my youth, who wrote, "It were +better for you rather not to try and find your father, than +to find him"—well, certainly better than to find him as +<i>Peter</i> found his. Perhaps it would not be unfair to suppose +that Miss <span class="sc">Margaret Peterson</span> had at this point her eye +already firmly fixed upon her big situation. Certainly the +course of <i>Peter</i> is rather impatiently and spasmodically +sketched till the moment when matters are sufficiently advanced +to ship him +also to Africa, in +company with an +elderly hunter of butterflies +named <i>Mellis</i>. +Their adventures form +the bulk of the tale +(filled out with some +chat about elephants, +and a sufficiency of +love-making on the +part of <i>Peter</i>), and I +suppose I need hardly +tell you how one of +them, poor <i>Mellis</i>, is +immediately captured +and brought before +the terrible white king +of the hidden lands, +nor how this same +monarch, a really +dreadfully unpleasant +person, turns out to +be—Precisely. So +there the tale is; little +more incredible than, +I dare say, most of +its kind; and if you have no rooted objection to characters +all of whom behave like persons who know they are in a +book there is no reason why you should not find it at +least passably entertaining.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">F. Brett Young's</span> manner of presenting <i>The Tragic +Bride</i> (<span class="sc">Secker</span>) is not free from affectation, and this is the +more irritating because his literary style is in itself admirably +unpretentious. But having recorded this complaint +I gladly go on to declare that his tale of <i>Gabrielle Hewish</i> +has both charm and distinction. I protest my belief in +<i>Gabrielle</i> both in her Irish and English homes, but my +protest would have been superfluous if Mr. <span class="sc">Brett Young</span> +had not almost super-taxed my powers of belief. So also +with <i>Arthur Payne</i>; he is a fascinating lad, and the battle +between his mother and <i>Gabrielle</i> for possession of him was +a royal struggle, fought without gloves yet very fairly. +All the same I caught myself doubting once or twice +whether any boy could at the same time be so human +and so inhuman. It is to Mr. <span class="sc">Brett Young's</span> credit that +these doubts do not interfere with one's enjoyment of his +book, and the reason is that he is first and last and all the +time an artist.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="./images/268.png"><img src="./images/268_th.png" alt="Clerk talking to man seated at desk." /></a> +<p><i>New Clerk.</i> "<span class="sc">Beg pardon, Sir, but there's a gentleman outside who says +that you've robbed him of all he had.</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Turf Accountant.</i> "<span class="sc">Well, what's his name? Ask him to give you his +name. How am I to distinguish him if he doesn't send his name in?</span>"</p></div> +<hr class="full" /> + +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 159, OCTOBER 6, 1920***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 17397-h.txt or 17397-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/3/9/17397">http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/3/9/17397</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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