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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:52:19 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:52:19 -0700 |
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diff --git a/17994-h/17994-h.htm b/17994-h/17994-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a415b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/17994-h/17994-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3327 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + + <html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta name="generator" content="HTML Tidy, see www.w3.org" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, November 3rd, 1920.</title> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; +} +p { + text-align: justify; +} +p.center { + text-align: center; +} +p.author { + margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 5%; text-align: right; +} +blockquote { + text-align: justify; +} +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { + text-align: center; +} +td { + font-size: 0.9em; + text-align: center; + padding: 1em; +} + +td.left { + font-size: 0.9em; + text-align: left; + padding: 1em; +} + +td.note { + text-align: left; + font-size: 0.9em; + font-weight: normal; + border: 1px dashed; + padding: 1em; + } + +ul { + margin-left: 8%; + list-style-type: none; + } +ul.left { + margin-left: 7%; + list-style-type: none; + } + +pre { + font-size: 0.7em; +} +hr { + width: 50%; text-align: center; +} +hr.full { + width: 100%; +} +hr.short { + width: 20%; text-align: center; +} +.note { + font-size: 0.9em; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} +span.pagenum { + font-size: 8pt; right: 91%; left: 1%; position: absolute; +} +.sc { + font-variant: small-caps; + font-weight: normal; +} + +.sc1 { + font-variant: small-caps; + font-weight: bold; +} + +.poem { + margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left; +} +.poem .stanza { + margin: 1em 0em; +} +.poem p { + padding-left: 3em; margin: 0px; text-indent: -3em; +} +.poem p.i2 { + margin-left: 1em; +} +.poem p.i4 { + margin-left: 2em; +} +.poem p.i6 { + margin-left: 3em +} +.poem p.i24 { + margin-left: 12em +} +.poem p.i32 { + margin-left: 16em +} +.poem p.i40 { + margin-left: 20em +} + +.poem1 { + margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: left; +} +.poem1 .stanza { + margin: 1em 0em; +} +.poem1 p { + padding-left: 3em; margin: 0px; text-indent: -3em; +} +.poem1 p.i2 { + margin-left: 1em; +} +.poem1 p.i4 { + margin-left: 2em; +} +.poem1 p.i6 { + margin-left: 3em +} +.poem1 p.i24 { + margin-left: 12em +} +.poem1 p.i32 { + margin-left: 16em +} +.poem1 p.i40 { + margin-left: 20em +} + + +.figure { + padding-right: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: 0.8em; padding-bottom: 1em; margin: 0px; padding-top: 1em; text-align: center; +} +.figcenter { + padding-right: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: 0.8em; padding-bottom: 1em; margin: 0px; padding-top: 1em; text-align: center; +} +.figright { + padding-right: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: 0.8em; padding-bottom: 1em; margin: 0px; padding-top: 1em; text-align: center; +} +.figleft { + padding-right: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: 0.8em; padding-bottom: 1em; margin: 0px; padding-top: 1em; text-align: center; +} +.figure img { + border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; +} +.figcenter img { + border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; +} +.figright img { + border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; +} +.figleft img { + border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-left-style: none; border-bottom-style: none; +} +.figure p { + margin: 0px; text-indent: 1em; +} +.figcenter p { + margin: 0px; text-indent: 1em; +} +.figright p { + margin: 0px; text-indent: 1em; +} +.figleft p { + margin: 0px; text-indent: 1em; +} +.figure p.in { + margin: 0px; text-indent: 8em; +} +.figcenter p.in { + margin: 0px; text-indent: 8em; +} +.figright p.in { + margin: 0px; text-indent: 8em; +} +.figleft p.in { + margin: 0px; text-indent: 8em; +} +.figcenter { + margin: auto; +} +.figright { + float: right; +} +.figleft { + float: left; +} +</style> + +<meta content="mshtml 6.00.2800.1515" name="generator" /></head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, +November 3, 1920, by Various + +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 www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 159, November 3, 1920 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Owen Seaman + +Release Date: March 15, 2006 [EBook #17994] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Lesley Halamek and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>PUNCH,<br />OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> +<h2>Vol. 159.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>November 3rd, 1920.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page341" id="page341"></a>[pg 341]</span> +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p> +"After all," asks a writer, "why +shouldn't Ireland have a Parliament, like +England?" Quite frankly we do not +like this idea of retaliation while more +humane methods are still unexplored.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +"The miners' strike," says a music-hall +journal, "has given one song-writer +the idea for a ragtime song." It is only +fair to say that Mr. <span class="sc">Smillie</span> had no idea +that his innocent little manœuvre would +lead to this.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +The Admiralty does not propose to +publish an official account of the Battle +of Jutland. Indeed the impression is +gaining ground that this battle will +have to be cancelled.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +We are asked to deny +that, following upon the +publication of <i>Mirrors of +Downing Street</i>, by "A +Gentleman with a Duster," +Lord <span class="sc">Kenyon</span> is about to +dedicate to Sir <span class="sc">Claude +Champion de Crespigny</span> +a book entitled <i>A Peer with +a Knuckle-Duster</i>.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +"Mr. Lloyd George seems +to have had his hair 'bobbed' +recently," says a +gossip-writer in a Sunday +paper. Mr. <span class="sc">Hodges</span> still +sticks to the impression +that it was really two-bobbed.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +"Cigars discovered in +the possession of Edward +Fischer, in New York," says a news +item, "were found to contain only +tobacco." Very rarely do we come +across a case like that in England.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +"Water," says a member of the +L.C.C., "is being sold at a loss." But +not in our whisky, we regret to say.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +What is claimed to be the largest +shell ever made has been turned out by +the Hecla Works, Sheffield. It may +shortly be measured for a war to fit it.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +A taxi-driver who knocked a man +down in Gracechurch Street has summoned +him for using abusive language. +It seems a pity that pedestrians cannot +be knocked down without showing their +temper like this.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +After months of experiment at Thames +Ditton the question of an artificial limb +of light metal has been solved. It is +said to be just the thing for Tube-travellers +to carry as a spare.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +In connection with Mr. <span class="sc">Pringle's</span> +recent visit to Ireland we are asked to +say that he was not sent there as a +reprisal.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +Mr. <span class="sc">George Lansbury</span> recently told +a Poplar audience why he went to +Australia many years ago. No explanation +was offered of his return.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +A coal-porter summoned for income-tax +at West Ham Police Court said +that his wages averaged eight hundred +pounds a year. We think it only fair +to say that there must be labouring +men here and there who earn even less +than that.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +"The thief," says a weekly paper +report, "entered the house by way of +the front-door." We can only suppose +that the burglars' entrance was locked +at the time.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +A small boy, born in a Turkish harem, +is said to have forty-eight step-mothers +living. Our office-boy, however, is still +undefeated in the matter of recently +defunct grandmothers.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +The number of accidental deaths in +France is attaining alarming proportions. +It is certainly time that a stop +was put to the quaint custom of duelling.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +A rat that looks like a kangaroo and +barks like a prairie dog is reported in +Texas, says <i>The Columbia Record</i>. We +can only say that, when we last heard +that one, it was an elephant with white +trunk and pink eyes.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +"Why do leaders of the Bar wear +such ill-fitting clothes?" asks a contemporary. +A sly dig, we presume, at +their brief bags.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +A reduction in prices is what every +housewife in the land is looking for, +says <i>The Daily Express</i>. It is not +known how our contemporary got +hold of this idea.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +There is no truth in the report that +<i>The Daily Mail</i> has offered a prize of +a hundred pounds to the first person +who can prove that it has been talking through +its prize hat.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +"What should <i>The Daily Mail</i> hat +be worn with?" asks an enthusiast. +"Characteristic modesty" is the right +answer.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +Emigrants to Canada, it is stated, +now include an increasingly large +proportion of skilled workers. Fortunately, +thanks to the high +wages they earn at home, +we are not losing the services +of our skilled loafers.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +A burglar who was recently +sentenced in the +Glasgow Police Court was +captured while in the act +of lowering a chest of +drawers out of a window +with a rope. The old +method of taking the house +home and extracting the +furniture at leisure is still +considered the safest by +conservative house-breakers.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +Found under a bed in a +strange house at Grimsby, +a man told the police who +arrested him that he was +looking for work. It was pointed out +to him that the usual place for men +looking for work is in bed, not under it.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +In a recent case a Hull bargee gave +his name as <span class="sc">Alfaina Swash</span>. Nevertheless +the Court did not decide to hear +the rest of his evidence <i>in camera</i>.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +A cyclist who stopped to watch a stag-hunt +near Tivington Cross, in Somerset, +was tossed into the hedge by the +stag. On behalf of the beast it is +claimed that the cyclist was off-side.</p> + + <hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/341.png"><img src="images/341-600.png" width="600" height="429" alt="She don't 'arf swank since 'er farver was knocked over by a Rolls-Royce." /></a> +<p class="center">"<span class="sc">She don't 'arf swank since 'er farver was knocked over by +a Rolls-Royce</span>."</p> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The Czecho-Slovaks will shortly be able +to see the successful play, 'The Right to +Stroke.'"—<i>Evening Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +Good news for the local pussies.</p> + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The first annual dinner of the —— Club +was held in the Club Rooms on Saturday +evening, a large number sitting down to an +excellent coal collation."—<i>Local Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +Surely a little extravagant in these +times.</p> + + <hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page342" id="page342"></a>[pg 342]</span> + +<h3>THE POET LAUREATE AND HIS GERMAN FRIENDS.</h3> +<blockquote> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Prisoners to a foe inhuman, Oh, but our hearts rebel;</p> +<p>Defenceless victims ye are, in claws of spite a prey.</p> + +<p class="i4"><span style="font-size: 0.7em;"> +* * +* * +* * * + </span></p> + +<p>Nor trouble we just Heaven that quick revenge be done</p> +<p>On Satan's chamberlains highseated in Berlin;</p> +<p>Their reek floats round the world on all lands neath the sun:</p> +<p>Tho' in craven Germany was no man found, not one</p> +<p>With spirit enough to cry Shame!—Nay but on such sin</p> +<p>Follows Perdition eternal ... and it has begun."</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="author"> +<i>The <span class="sc">Poet Laureate</span>, in "The Times," November 4th, 1918.</i></p> + +<p> +"The letter [of reconciliation from Oxford Professors, etc., 'to their +fellows in Germany'] is written ... with the recognition that we +have both of us been provoked to 'animosities' which we desire to +put aside ... The commonest objection was that the action was +'premature'—my own feeling being that of shame for having vainly +waited so long in deference to political complications, and that shame +was intolerably increasing ... It is undiscerning not to see that +at a critical moment of extreme tension they [the German Professors] +allowed their passion to get the better of them."</p> +<p> +<i>The <span class="sc">Poet Laureate</span>, in "The Times," October 27th, 1920</i>.</p> +<p> +[The author of the following lines fears that he has failed to do +full justice to the metrical purity of the Master's craftsmanship.] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>Such people as lacked the leisure to peruse</p> + <p class="i2">My scripture, one-and-a-quarter columns long</p> + <p class="i2">In <i>The Times</i>, may like me, as having the gift of song,</p> + <p>To prosodise succinctly my private views.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>Did I cry Shame! in November, 1918,</p> + <p class="i2">On those who never cried Shame! on the lords of hell?</p> + <p>Rather the shame is mine who delayed to clean</p> + <p class="i2">My soul of a wrong that grew intolerable.</p> + <p>What if our German colleagues, our brothers-in-lore,</p> + <p class="i2">Preached and approved for years the vilest of deeds?</p> + <p class="i2">Yet is there every excuse when the hot blood speeds;</p> + <p>We too were vexed and wanted our fellows' gore,</p> + <p>Saying rude things in a moment of extreme tension</p> + <p>Which in our calmer hours we should never mention.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>Dons in their academic ignorance blind,</p> + <p class="i2">With passions like to our own as pea to pea,</p> + <p>Shall we await in them a change of mind?</p> + <p class="i2">Shall we require a repentant apology?</p> + <p>Or in a generous spasm anticipate</p> + <p class="i2">The regrets unspoken that, under the heavy stress</p> + <p class="i2">Of labour involved in planning new frightfulness,</p> + <p>They have been too busy, poor dears, to formulate?</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>Once I remarked that on German crimes would follow</p> + <p class="i2">"Perdition eternal"; Heaven would make this its care,</p> + <p class="i2">Nor need to be hustled, with plenty of time to spare.</p> + <p>Those words of mine I have a desire to swallow,</p> + <p>Finding, on further thought, which admits my offence,</p> + <p class="i2">That a few brief years of Coventry, of denied</p> + <p class="i2">Communion with Culture—used in the Oxford sense—</p> + <p>Are ample for getting our difference rectified.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>What is a Laureate paid for, I ask <i>The Times</i>,</p> + <p>If not to recant in prose his patriot rhymes?</p> + <p>I stamp my foot on my wrath's last smouldering ember,</p> + <p>And for my motto I take "<i>Lest we remember</i>."</p></div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i40">O. S.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <hr /> + +<h3>THE SUPERFECTION LAUNDRY.</h3> +<p> +I let myself into my flat to find a young woman sitting +on one of those comfortless chairs designed by upholsterers +for persons of second quality who are bidden to wait in +the hall.</p> +<p> +"You want to see me?" I inquired. "Yes; what is it?"</p> +<p> +"I have called, Madam, to ask if you are satisfied with +your laundry."</p> +<p> +"Far from it," I said. "It is kind of you to ask, but why?"</p> +<p> +"Because I wish to solicit your custom for the laundry +I represent."</p> +<p> +"What faults do you specialise in?" I inquired.</p> +<p> +"I beg your pardon, Madam?"</p> +<p> +"Will you send home my husband's collars with an edge +like a dissipated saw?"</p> +<p> +The young woman's face brightened with comprehension.</p> +<p> +"Oh, no, Madam," she replied. "We exercise the greatest +care with gentlemen's stand-up collars."</p> +<p> +"Will you shrink my combinations to the size of a doll's?"</p> +<p> +An expression of horror invaded her countenance. "The +utmost precaution," she asserted, "is taken to prevent the +shrinkage of woollens."</p> +<p> +"Is it your custom to send back towels reduced to two +hems connected by a few stray rags in the middle?"</p> +<p> +The young woman was aghast. "All towels are handled +as gently as possible to avoid tearing," she replied.</p> +<p> +"How about handkerchiefs?" I asked. "I dislike to +find myself grasping my bare nose through a hole in the +centre."</p> +<p> +The suggestion made my visitor laugh.</p> +<p> +"Are you in the habit of sewing nasty bits of red thread, +impossible to extricate, into conspicuous parts of one's +clothing?"</p> +<p> +"Oh, no, Madam," she asseverated; "no linen is allowed +to leave our establishment with any disfiguring marks."</p> +<p> +"You never, I suppose, return clothing dirtier than when +it reached you?" I proceeded.</p> +<p> +Suppressed scorn that I could believe in such a possibility +flashed momentarily from her eyes before she uttered an +emphatic denial.</p> +<p> +"Nor do you ever perhaps send home garments belonging +to other people while one's own are missing?"</p> +<p> +"Never, I can assure you, Madam."</p> +<p> +"Does the man who delivers the washing habitually turn +the basket upside down so that the heavy things below +crush all the delicate frilly things that ought to be on top?"</p> +<p> +She seemed incapable of conceiving that such perverted +creatures could exist.</p> +<p> +"Do they never whistle in an objectionable manner +while waiting for the soiled clothes?"</p> +<p> +"Whistling on duty is strictly forbidden, Madam."</p> +<p> +"Well, all these things I have mentioned my laundry does +to me, and even more, and when I write to complain they +disregard my letters."</p> +<p> +"We rarely have complaints, Madam, and all such receive +prompt attention. I can give references in this street—in +this block of flats even."</p> +<p> +"Well," said I, "if you like to give me a card I am willing +to let you have a trial."</p> +<p> +The young woman opened her bag with alacrity and +handed me a card.</p> +<p> +"The Superfection Laundry," I read with amazement. +"Surely there must be some mistake?"</p> +<p> +"Are you not Mrs. Fulton?" asked the young woman.</p> +<p> +"No, you have come a floor too high. Mrs. Fulton lives +in the flat below me."</p> +<p> +"I must apologise for my call, then; I was sent to see +Mrs. Fulton. But all the same may we not add you to the +list of our customers?"</p> +<p> +"Impossible," I said.</p> +<p> +"May I ask your reasons, Madam?"</p> +<p> +"Because the laundry I employ at present is the Superfection."</p> + + <hr /> + +<h4>The Church Militant in the Near East.</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +"Resht was bombed by Red aeroplanes on September 28 and 30; +one of the machines was forced to descend on the latter date some +6 miles to the north of the town. The pilot and observer were taken +by the Cassocks."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Evening Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page343" id="page343"></a>[pg 343]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<a href="images/343.png"><img src="images/343-350.png" width="350" height="450" alt="OUR VILLAGE SIGN." /></a> +<p class="center">OUR VILLAGE SIGN.</p> +</div> + +<br /><hr /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/344.png"><img src="images/344-600.png" width="600" height="404" alt="Hit him where you like, dear—it's my husband." /></a> +<p><i>The Guest (exasperated with waiting).</i> <span class="sc">"I've a good mind to drive off, but I'm afraid of hitting that idiot in front."</span></p> +<p><i>The Hostess.</i> <span class="sc">"Hit him where you like, dear—it's my husband."</span></p> + +</div><br /><br /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page344" id="page344"></a>[pg 344]</span> + + + + <hr /> + +<h3>PROOF POSITIVE.</h3> +<p> +This kind of thing had been going +on morning after morning until I was +quite tired.</p> +<p> +<i>They.</i> You ought to get hold of a +good dog.</p> +<p> +It is extraordinary how many things +one ought to get hold of in the country. +Sometimes it is a wood-chopper and +sometimes a couple of hundred cabbages, +and sometimes a cartload of +manure, and sometimes a few good +hens. I find this very exhausting to +the grip.</p> +<p> +<i>I.</i> What for?</p> +<p> +<i>They.</i> To watch your house.</p> +<p> +<i>I.</i> I do not wish to inflict pain on a +good dog. What kind of a dog ought +it to be?</p> +<p> +<i>They.</i> Well, a mastiff.</p> +<p> +<i>I.</i> Isn't that rather a smooth kind of +dog? If I have to get hold of a dog, I +should like one with rather a rougher +surface.</p> +<p> +<i>They.</i> Try an Irish terrier.</p> +<p> +<i>I.</i> I have. They fight.</p> +<p> +<i>They.</i> Not unless they're provoked.</p> +<p> +<i>I.</i> Nobody fights unless he is provoked. +But more things provoke an +Irish terrier than one might imagine. +The postman provoked my old one so +much that it bit the letters out of his +hand and ate them.</p> +<p> +<i>They.</i> Well, you didn't get any bills, +then.</p> +<p> +<i>I.</i> Yes, I did. Bills always came +when the dog was away for the week-end. +He was a great week-ender, +and he always came back from week-ends +with more and more pieces out of +his ears until at last they were all +gone, and he couldn't hear us when we +called him.</p> +<p> +<i>They.</i> Well, there are plenty of other +sorts. You might have a Chow or an +Airedale or a boar-hound.</p> +<p> +<i>I.</i> Thank you, I do not hunt boars. +Besides, all the dogs you mention are +very expensive nowadays. In the War +it was quite different. You could collect +dogs for practically nothing then. +My company used to have more than +a dozen dogs parading with it every +day. They had never seen so many +men so willing to go for so many long +walks before. They thought the Millennium +had come. A proposal was +made that they should be taught to +form fours and march in the rear. But, +like all great strategical plans, it was +stifled by red tape. After that—</p> +<p> +<i>They.</i> You are getting away from +the point. If you really want a good +cheap dog—</p> +<p> +<i>I.</i> Ah, I thought you were coming to +that. You know of a good cheap dog?</p> +<p> +<i>They.</i> The gardener of my sister-in-law's +aunt has an extremely good cheap +dog.</p> +<p> +<i>I.</i> And would it watch my house?</p> +<p> +<i>They.</i> Most intently.</p> +<p> +That is how Trotsky came to us. +Nobody but a reckless propagandist +would say that he is either a mastiff or +a boar-hound, though he once stopped +when we came to a pig. I do not mind +that. What I do mind is their saying, +now that they have palmed him off on +me, "I saw you out with your what-ever-it-is +yesterday," or "I did not +know you had taken to sheep-breeding," +or "What is that thing you have +tied up to the kennel at the back?" +There seems to be something about the +animal's tail that does not go with its +back, or about its legs that does not go +with its nose, or about its eyes that does +not go with its fur. If it is fur, that is +to say. And the eyes are a different +colour and seem to squint a little. They +say that one of them is a wall-eye. I +think that is the one he watches the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page345" id="page345"></a>[pg 345]</span> +house with. Personally I consider that +they are very handsome eyes in their +own different lines, and my opinion is +that he is a Mull-terrier; or possibly a +Rum. Anyhow he is a good dog to get +hold of, for he is very curly.</p> +<p> +The village policeman came round to +the house the other day. I think he +really came to talk to the cook, but I +fell into conversation with him.</p> +<p> +"You ought to be getting a licence +for that dog of yours," he said.</p> +<p> +"What dog?" I asked.</p> +<p> +"Why, you've got a dog tied up at +the back there, haven't you?" he said.</p> +<p> +"Have I?" said I.</p> +<p> +And we went out and looked at it +together. Trotsky looked at me with +one eye and at the policeman with the +other, and he wagged his tail. At least +I am not sure that he wagged it; +"shook" would be a better word.</p> +<p> +"Where did you get it?" he inquired.</p> +<p> +"Oh, I just got hold of it," I said +airily. "It's rather good, don't you +think?"</p> +<p> +He stood for some time in doubt.</p> +<p> +"It's a dog," he said at last.</p> +<p> +I shook him warmly by the hand.</p> +<p> +"You have taken a great load off +my mind," I told him. "I will get a +licence at once."</p> +<p> +This will score off them pretty badly.</p> +<p> +After all you can't go behind a Government +certificate, can you?</p> +<p class="author"> +<span class="sc">Evoe.</span></p> + + <hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 344px;"> +<a href="images/345.png"><img src="images/345-344.png" width="344" height="450" alt="She's just bin givin' me notice." /></a> +<p><i>Caller.</i> <span class="sc">"Is Mrs. Jones at home?"</span></p> +<p><i>Cook-General.</i> <span class="sc">"She is, but she ain't 'ardly in a fit state to see anybody. +She's just bin givin' me notice."</span></p> +</div><br /><br /> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE CRY OF THE ADULT AUTHOR.</h3> +<p> +[The "Diarist" of <i>The Westminster Gazette</i>, +in the issue of October 25th, utters a poignant +<i>cri de cœur</i> over what he regards as one of the +great tragedies of the time—the crowding-out +of the "genuine craftsmen" of journalism and +letters by Cabinet Ministers, notoriety-mongers +and, above all, by sloppy infant prodigies.]</p> + +<div class="poem1"> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, bitter are the insults</p> + <p class="i2">And bitter is the shame</p> + <p>Heaped on deserving authors</p> + <p class="i2">Of high and strenuous aim,</p> + <p>When all the best booksellers</p> + <p class="i2">Their shelves and windows cram</p> + <p>With novels from the nursery</p> + <p class="i2">And poems from the pram.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>In recent Autumn seasons</p> + <p class="i2">Writers of age mature</p> + <p>(From eighteen up to thirty)</p> + <p class="i2">Of sympathy were sure;</p> + <p><i>Now</i> publishers their portals</p> + <p class="i2">On everybody slam</p> + <p>Save novelists from the nursery</p> + <p class="i2">And poets from the pram.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>Unfairly <span class="sc">Winston Churchill</span></p> + <p class="i2">Invades the Sunday sheets;</p> + <p>Unfairly <span class="sc">Mrs. Asquith</span></p> + <p class="i2">With serious scribes competes;</p> + <p>But these are minor evils—</p> + <p class="i2">What makes me cuss and damn</p> + <p>Are novels from the nursery</p> + <p class="i2">And poems from the pram.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>When on the concert platform</p> + <p class="i2">The prodigy appears</p> + <p>I do not grudge his welcome,</p> + <p class="i2">The clappings and the cheers;</p> + <p>But I can't forgive the people</p> + <p class="i2">Who down our throats would cram</p> + <p>The novelists from the nursery,</p> + <p class="i2">The poets from the pram.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>I met a (once) best seller,</p> + <p class="i2">And I took him by the hand,</p> + <p>And asked, "How's <span class="sc">Opal Whiteley</span></p> + <p class="i2">And how does <span class="sc">Daisy</span> stand?"</p> + <p>He answered, "I can only</p> + <p class="i2">See sloppiness and sham</p> + <p>In novels from the nursery</p> + <p class="i2">And poems from the pram."</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>If I were only despot,</p> + <p class="i2">To end this painful feud</p> + <p>I'd banish straight to Mespot</p> + <p class="i2">The scribbling infant brood,</p> + <p>And bar the importation,</p> + <p class="i2">By that hustler, Uncle Sam,</p> + <p>Of novels from the nursery</p> + <p class="i2">And poems from the pram.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<br /><hr /><br /><br /> +<p> +From an account of Sir <span class="sc">J. Forbes-Robertson's</span> +<i>début</i>:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"It was interesting to remember that in +the audience on that occasion were Dante, +Gabriel, Rossetti and Algernon Charles Swinburne."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Provincial +Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +The archangel was a great catch.</p> + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"When the Royal Cream horses were dispersed +from the royal stables, one or two golf +clubs made an endeavour to get one of these +fine animals, and Ranelagh and Sandy Lodge +were fortunate to secure them. The horses +look fine on the course behind the mower."</p> +<p class="author"> +<i>Evening Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +Shoving, we suppose, for all they are +worth.</p> + +<br /><hr /><br /><br /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page346" id="page346"></a>[pg 346]</span> + + +<h2>EUCLID IN REAL LIFE.</h2> +<p> +If it was not for the paper-shortage +I should at once re-write <span class="sc">Euclid</span>, or +those parts of him which I understand. +The trouble about old <span class="sc">Euclid</span> was that +he had no soul, and few of his books +have that emotional appeal for which +we look in these days. My aim would +be to bring home his discoveries to the +young by clothing them with human +interest; and I should at the same +time demonstrate to the adult how +often they might be made practically +useful in everyday life. When one +thinks of the times one draws a straight +line at right angles to another straight +line, and how seldom one does it <span class="sc">Euclid's</span> +way ... every time one writes +a T....</p> +<p> +Well, let us take, for example—</p> + +<h4><span class="sc1">Book III., Proposition</span> 1.</h4> +<h4> +<span class="sc1">Problem</span>.—<i>To find the centre of a +given circle</i>.</h4> +<p> +Let ABC be that horrible round bed +where you had the geraniums last year. +This year, I gather, the idea is to have +it nothing but rose-trees, with a great +big fellow in the middle. The question +is, where is the middle? I mean, if +you plant it in a hurry on your own +judgment, everyone who comes near +the house will point out that the bed is +all cock-eye. Besides, you can see it +from the dining-room and it will annoy +you at breakfast.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px;"> +<a href="images/346-1.png"><img src="images/346-1-150.png" width="150" height="169" alt="circle" border="0" /></a> +</div><br /><br /> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Construction</span>.—Well, this is how +we go about it. First, you draw any +chord AB in the given bed ABC. You +can do that with one of those long +strings the gardener keeps in his shed, +with pegs at the end.</p> +<p> +Bisect AB at D.</p> +<p> +Now don't look so stupid. We've +done that already in Book I., Prop. 10, +you remember, when we bisected the +stick of nougat. That's right.</p> +<p> +Now from D draw DC at right angles +to AB, and meeting the lawn at C. You +can do that with a hoe.</p> +<p> +Produce CD to meet the lawn again +at E.</p> +<p> +Now we do some more of that bisecting; +this time we bisect EC at F.</p> +<p> +Then F shall be the middle of the +bed; and that's where your rose-tree +is going.</p> +<p> +<span class="sc">Proof</span>???—Well, I mean, if F be <i>not</i> +the centre let some point G, outside +the line CE, be the centre and put the +confounded tree <i>there</i>. And, what's +more, you can jolly well join GA, GD +and GB, and see what that looks like.</p> +<p> +Just cast your eye over the two triangles +GDA and GDB.</p> +<p> +Don't you see that DA is equal to +DB (unless, of course, you've bisected +that chord all wrong), and DG is common, +and GA is equal to GB—at least +according to your absurd theory about +G it is, since they must be both <i>radii</i>. +<i>Radii</i> indeed! <i>Look</i> at them. Ha, ha!</p> +<p> +Therefore, you fool, the angle GDA +is equal to the angle GDB.</p> +<p> +Therefore they are both right angles.</p> +<p> +Therefore the angle GDA is a right +angle. (I know you think I'm repeating +myself, but you'll see what I'm +getting at in a minute.)</p> +<p> +<i>Therefore</i>—and this is the cream of +the joke—therefore—really, I can't +help laughing—therefore <i>the angle +CDA is equal to the angle GDA!</i> That +is, the part is equal to the whole—which +is ridiculous.</p> +<p> +I mean, it's too <i>laughable</i>.</p> +<p> +So, you see, your rose-tree is not in +the middle at all.</p> +<p> +In the same way you can go on +planting the old tree all over the bed—anywhere +you like. In every case +you'll get those right angles in the +same ridiculous position—why, it +makes me laugh <i>now</i> to think of it—and +you'll be brought back to dear old +CE.</p> +<p> +And, of course, any point in CE <i>except</i> +F would divide CE unequally, +which I notice now is just what you've +done yourself; so F is wrong too.</p> +<p> +But you see the idea?</p> +<p> +What a mess you've made of the +bed!</p> + +<h4><span class="sc1">Book I., Proposition</span> 20.</h4> +<h4> +<span class="sc1">Theorem</span>.—<i>Any two sides of a triangle +are together greater than the third side</i>.</h4> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 322px;"> +<a href="images/346-2.png"><img src="images/346-2-250.png" width="250" height="140" alt="triangles" /></a> +</div> +<p> +Let ABC be a triangle.</p> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Construction</span>.—You know the +eleventh hole? Well, let B be the tee, +and let C be the green, and let BC be +my drive. Yes, <i>mine</i>. Is it dead? +Yes.</p> +<p> +Now let BA be <i>your</i> drive. I'm +afraid you've pulled it a bit and gone +into the road by the farm.</p> +<p> +You can't get on to the green by the +direct route AC because you're under +the wall. You'll have to play further +up the road till you get opposite that +gap at D. It's a pity, because you'll +have to play about the same distance, +only in the wrong direction.</p> +<p> +Take your niblick, then, and play +your second, making AD equal to AC. +Now join CD.</p> +<p> +I mean, put your third on the green. +You can do that, <i>surely</i>? Good.</p> +<p> +<span class="sc">Proof</span>.—There, I'm down in two. +But we won't rub it in. Do you notice +anything odd about these triangles? +No? Well, the fact is that AD is equal +to AC, and the result of that is that the +angle ACD is equal to the angle ADC. +That's Prop. 5. Anyhow, it's obvious, +isn't it?</p> +<p> +But steady on. The angle BCD is +greater than its part, the angle ACD—you +must admit that? (Look out, +there's a fellow going to drive.)</p> +<p> +And therefore the angle BCD—Oh, +well, I can't go into it all now or it +will mean we shall have to let these +people through; but if you carry on on +those lines you'll find that BD is greater +than BC.</p> +<p> +I mean you've only got to go back to +where you played your third and you'll +see that it <i>must</i> be so, won't you? +Very well, then, don't argue.</p> +<p> +But BD is equal to BA and AC, for +AD is equal to AC; it <i>had</i> to be, you +remember.</p> +<p> +Therefore—now follow this closely—the +two sides BA and AC are together +greater than the third side BC.</p> +<p> +That means, you see, that by pulling +your drive out to the left there you +gave yourself a lot of extra distance to +cover.</p> +<p> +You'd never have guessed that, would +you? But old <span class="sc">Euclid</span> did.</p> +<p> +Come along, then; they're putting. +You must be more careful at this hole.</p> +<p> +I think it's that right shoulder of +yours... </p> +<p class="author"> +A. P. H.</p> + + <hr /> + +<h4>Our Candid Candidates.</h4> +<p class="center"> +From an election address:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Should I get returned as your representative +you will have no cause for regret when +my term of office expires."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Provincial Paper</i>. +</p></blockquote> + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The strike of the mechanical staff of the +'Karachi Daily Gazette' has ended."</p> +<p class="author"> +<i>Evening Paper</i>. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We wondered why everybody looked so +pleased in London that day.</p> + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Since her treatment with the monkey +gland Miss Ediss has received enough complimentary +nuts to stock a market garden. An +ornate basket of monkey nuts fills a prominent +place in her room, and two cocoanuts tied up +with coloured ribbon strike the eye of the +visitor."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Sunday Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +In that case we shall postpone our intended +visit until Miss <span class="sc">Ediss</span> is herself +again.</p> + +<br /><hr /><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page347" id="page347"></a>[pg 347]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 361px;"> +<a href="images/347.png"><img src="images/347-361.png" width="361" height="450" alt="MANNERS AND MODES." /></a> +<h4><b>MANNERS AND MODES.</b></h4> +<p>NOW THAT MEN'S ATTIRE IS SO COSTLY WHY NOT TAKE A LEAF FROM THE LADIES' BOOK OF FASHION +AND LET THE TAILORS HAVE DRESS PARADES OF THE LATEST DESIGNS?</p> +</div><br /><br /> +<br /><hr /><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page348" id="page348"></a>[pg 348]</span> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 301px;"> +<a href="images/348.png"><img src="images/348-301.png" width="301" height="450" alt="THE CULT OF FACE-READING." /></a> +<h4>THE CULT OF FACE-READING.</h4> +<p><i>'Erb</i> (<i>a cinema habitué</i>). "<span class="sc">See wot 'e's saying, Em'ly? +'<i>E's still at the office and won't be able to get 'ome to +dinner</i></span>."</p> +</div><br /> + + + + +<hr /><br /><br /> + +<h2>THE CONSPIRATORS.</h2> + +<h4>VI.</h4> +<p> +<span class="sc">My dear Charles</span>,—I was talking +to the Editor the other day about this +correspondence of ours which we are +conducting in the public Press, thus +saving the twopenny stamps and avoiding +the increased cost of living which +is hitting everyone else so hard.</p> +<p> +"This ought to be put a stop to," +said he.</p> +<p> +"That is just what I have +been saying since 1918," I replied; +"but the question is +what to do about it? When +you get down to it, the word +'Bolshevist' is but the Russian +for 'advanced Socialist,' and +there is nothing to prevent +Socialists, whether they be advanced +or retarded. How then +are you going to put a stop to +Bolshevism?"</p> +<p> +"I was thinking of the correspondence," +the Editor replied.</p> +<p> +So I stopped talking to him +and sat down to write my last +letter to you on the subject.</p> +<p> +To resume: In the summer +of 1918 the German War Lords +began to have their doubts of +a Pax Germanica and saw signs +rather of a Wash-out Germanicum. +Things looked ill +with them, so they consulted +their doctor, a certain person +who called himself "Dr. Help-us" +by way of a jest. He +proved more successful as a +business man, however, than +he was as a humourist. He +advised that the "War of +World Conquest" was not +likely to produce a dividend, +because its name was against +it. Cut out "Imperialism"; +substitute another word, with +just as many syllables and no +less an imposing sound, "Proletariat"; +call the thing "Class +Warfare"; advertise it thoroughly +and attract to it all the political +egoists of disappointed ambition in the +various countries of the enemy, and the +German War Lords would find it no +longer necessary to crush all existing +nations, since all existing nations would +then set about to crush themselves.</p> +<p> +The idea was voted excellent, and the +trial run in Russia gave complete satisfaction.</p> +<p> +But not all countries were so immediately +susceptible to the idea of a World +Revolution. Victory hath its charms +and does not predispose a people to complain; +so where the Masses (invested +with a capital "M" to flatter their +vanity and secure their goodwill) were +victorious and content they were to be +made to believe by advertisement that +with a little trouble they could become +even more victorious and more content. +The <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> and Imperialism had been +disposed of; it only remained to get rid +of Capitalism and Charles. The subterranean +campaign was developed, and +that is what our conspirators have since +been so brisk and busy about.</p> +<p> +That was the programme; but it is +a programme which required money. +And so at last to the Chinese Bonds.</p> +<p> +Oh, those Chinese Bonds! How +some people abroad have learned to +curse the very mention of them these +last many months! I don't know where +that tiresome man, <span class="sc">Litvinoff</span>, first got +them from, but my poor friends, whose +business all this is, were running after +them at least ten months ago. Sometimes +they were in Russia, sometimes +they showed up in Denmark, sometimes +they got scent of them in Germany, and +I am told it is the merest fluke that the +Bonds did not come to Switzerland for +the winter sports. And wherever they +turned up they were always just on their +way to England; either they had a poor +sense of direction or, being bad sailors, +were afraid of the crossing. There was +never any knowing in what corner of +the earth they would next be appearing; +in fact the only country which +those Chinese Bonds seemed to have +successfully avoided was China.</p> +<p> +The first time we heard of them, I +will admit that we were thrilled. They +gave a touch of reality to an otherwise +over-hairy and unconvincing +narrative of conspiracy. The +second time we were told of +them we were pleasurably +moved. So it was true, after +all, about those Chinese Bonds?</p> +<p> +The third time we heard of +them we were satisfied; the +fourth time we heard of them +we were indifferent; the fifth +time bored, the sixth time irritated, +the seventh time infuriated, +and the eighth time we +said to our informant, "Now +look you here. We appreciate +the excitement of your mysterious +presence and the soothing +effects of your hushed voice, +and as long as you care to go +on revealing your secrets we +will listen. You may speak of +finance and you may even +touch upon British bank-notes +forged by the Soviets; you +may go so far as to divulge +some new forms of script involved, +getting as near as even, +say, Japanese Debentures; but +if you so much as mention +China or its Bonds to us again +we will wrap you up in a parcel +and post you to Moscow with +a personal note of warning to +<span class="sc">Lenin</span> as to your inner knowledge +and the dangerous publicity +you are giving it."</p> +<p> +For ourselves we wrote many +a learned treatise on the subject +and sent many a thousand +memos home to those authorities +near to whose hearts the +welfare of those Bonds should be. And +after many months of this correspondence +someone in the what-d'you-call-it +office suddenly sat up and took notice +and wrote to us as follows: "His +Majesty's Principal Secretary of State +for Thingummy has the honour to +inform you that rumours have reached +his ears concerning the existence of +certain bonds, alleged to be Chinese, +in the hands of Bolshevist agitators +coming or intending to come to this +country. You are requested to ascertain +and report what, if anything, is +known of these Chinese Bonds."</p> +<p> +I could have made a story for you of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page349" id="page349"></a>[pg 349]</span> +the uses to which the Bonds were put +in other countries and newspapers as +well as your own. But that painfully +honest journal, <i>The Daily Herald</i>, has +anticipated me. And anything more +you want to know about the conspiracies +or the conspirators you may now, +as I judge from reading your Press, +experience for yourself. So upon that +these letters may end. I would like to +have concluded by a protestation that, +in making these frank statements as to +the working of, and against, the Conspirators, +I personally draw no pecuniary +benefit of any sort, not a sovereign, not +a bob, not a half-penny stamp. It is +perhaps better, however, to anticipate +discovery by owning up to the fact +that my frankness is being paid for at +so many pence per line.</p> + +<p class="author"> +Yours ever, <br /> <span class="sc">Henry</span>.</p> + +<p class="center"> +(<i>Concluded</i>.)</p> + + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width: 586px;"> +<a href="images/349.png"><img src="images/349-586.png" width="586" height="450" alt="Are you sure that lobster's all right?" /></a> +<p><i>Nervous Party</i>. "<span class="sc">Are you sure that lobster's all right</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Fishmonger</i> (<i>on his dignity</i>). "<span class="sc">Quite right, Sir. If it isn't we shall be here to-morrow</span>."</p> +<p><i>Nervous Party</i>. "<span class="sc">Yes—but shall <i>I</i> be here to-morrow</span>?"</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + <hr /> +<p class="center"> +<span class="sc"><b>Epitaph for a Professor of Tango</b></span>:</p> +<p class="center"> +"<i>Nihil tetigit quod non ornavit</i>."</p> + + <hr /><br /> + +<h4>THE CAGE.</h4> +<p> +He stood in the packed building, a +small lonely figure, pathetic in the +isolation that shut him off from the +warm humanity of the watching crowd.</p> +<p> +He felt weak, ill, but he struggled +to bear himself bravely. He could not +move his eyes from the stern white +face that seemed to fill all the space in +front of him. About that cold minatory +figure, which was speaking to him +in such passionless even tones, clung +an atmosphere of awe; the traditional +robes of office lent it a majesty that +crushed his will.</p> +<p> +He knew he was being addressed, +and he strove to listen. His brain was +a torrent of thoughts. And so his life +had come to this. It was indeed the +final catastrophe. That was surely what +the voice meant—that voice which went +on and on in an even stream of sound +without meaning. Why had he come +to this—in the flower of his life to lose +its chiefest gift, Liberty?</p> +<p> +Up and down the spaces of his brain +thought sped like fire. The people +behind—did they care? A few perhaps +pitied him. The others were indifferent. +To them it was merely a spectacle.</p> +<p> +Suddenly into his mind crept the +consciousness of a vast silence. The +voice had stopped. The abrupt cessation +of sound whipped his quivering +nerves. It was like the holding of a +great breath.</p> +<p> +He gathered his forces. He knew +that the huge concourse waited. A question +had been put to him. It seemed +as if the world stood still to listen.</p> +<p> +He moistened his lips. He knew +what he had meant to say, but his +tongue was a traitor to his desire. +What use now to plead? The soundlessness +grew intolerable. He thought +he should cry aloud.</p> +<p> +And then—</p> +<p> +"I will," he said, and, looking sideways, +caught the swift shy glance of +his bride.</p> + +<br /><hr /><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page350" id="page350"></a>[pg 350]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/350.png"><img src="images/350-600.png" width="600" height="419" alt="That lad'll go far." /></a> +<p><i>The Master Plumber</i>. "<span class="sc">I've never seed a bloke take so long over a job in all me life. +That lad'll go far</span>."</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + + <hr /> + +<h3>NEW RHYMES FOR OLD CHILDREN.</h3> + + +<h4><span class="sc">The Sponge</span>.</h4> + +<div class="poem1"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The sponge is not, as you suppose,</p> + <p class="i2">A funny kind of weed;</p> +<p>He lives below the deep blue sea,</p> +<p>An animal, like you and me,</p> + <p class="i2">Though not so good a breed.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And when the sponges go to sleep</p> + <p class="i2">The fearless diver dives;</p> +<p>He prongs them with a cruel prong,</p> +<p>And, what I think is rather wrong,</p> + <p class="i2">He also prongs their wives.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>For I expect they love their wives</p> + <p class="i2">And sing them little songs,</p> +<p>And though, of course, they have no heart</p> +<p>It hurts them when they're forced to part—</p> + <p class="i2">Especially with prongs.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I know you'd rather not believe</p> + <p class="i2">Such dreadful things are done;</p> +<p>Alas, alas, it is the case;</p> +<p>And every time you wash your face</p> + <p class="i2">You use a skeleton.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And that round hole in which you put</p> + <p class="i2">Your finger and your thumb,</p> +<p>And tear the nice new sponge in two,</p> +<p>As I have told you <i>not</i> to do,</p> + <p class="i2">Was once his <i>osculum</i>.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>So that is why I seldom wash,</p> + <p class="i2">However black I am,</p> +<p>But use my flannel if I must,</p> +<p>Though even that, to be quite just,</p> + <p class="i2">Was once a little lamb.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author"> + A. P. H.</p> + + + <hr /> + +<h3>HOW TO MISS THE MISSING LINK.</h3> +<p> +We understand that an expedition +will shortly leave the United States for +Central Asia in search of the Missing +Link. "Aeroplanes, motor cars, camels, +mules and all means of locomotion +found suitable will be used by the anthropologists, +archæologists and other +scientists" taking part.</p> +<p> +We predict that an enterprise so +opposed to all the traditions of exploration +is doomed to failure. We cannot +doubt that the Missing Link possesses +a sense of smell keen enough to detect +a camel or a Ford car while yet afar +off. His regrettable elusiveness is more +likely to be established than overcome +when he beholds mules and anthropologists, +attended by aeroplanes and +motor-cars, and possibly whippet-tanks, +motor-scooters and phrenologists. Even +if there are only nine or ten of each +variety it will be enough to ensure that +the adventurers miss the Link after all.</p> +<p> +Another aspect of the expedition +should be borne in mind. The progress +through the jungle of such vehicles +and personnel would cause something +like consternation among the larger +fauna, whose limited intelligence might +reasonably fail to distinguish the procession +from a travelling menagerie. In +these days of unrest is it right, is it expedient, +thus to stir up species hatred? +It would be indeed deplorable if the +present quest were to be followed by a +search party got up to trace the missing +Missing Link expedition.</p> +<p> +Surely the old methods of the explorer +are still the best. Simply equipped +with an elephant-rifle and a pith helmet, +let him plunge into the bush and be +lost to sight for a few years. Whereas +the Missing Link may be relied on to +remain resolutely beneath his rock at +the sight of a sort of a Lord Mayor's +Show wandering among the vegetation, +the spectacle of a simple-looking traveller +in the midst of the lonely forest +would rather encourage the creature to +emerge from its place of retreat.</p> +<p> +Then nothing would remain but for the +explorer to advance with out-stretched +hand (preferably the left), and exclaim, +"The Missing Link, I presume?"</p> + +<br /><hr /><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page351" id="page351"></a>[pg 351]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 376px;"> +<a href="images/351.png"><img src="images/351-376.png" width="376" height="450" alt="A CLOSE CORPORATION." /></a> +<h4>A CLOSE CORPORATION.</h4> +<p><span class="sc">Ex-Service Man</span> (<i>unemployed</i>). "IF YOU'RE SO SHORT OF LABOUR, WHY DON'T YOU +TAKE ME ON?"</p> +<p><span class="sc">Trade Union Official</span>. "MY GOOD FELLOW, BRICKLAYING REQUIRES YEARS AND YEARS +OF APPRENTICESHIP."</p> +<p><span class="sc">Ex-Service Man</span>. "SO DOES SOLDIERING; BUT THEY WEREN'T SO PARTICULAR WHEN +THERE WAS WORK TO BE DONE AT THE FRONT."</p> +</div> +<br /><hr /><br /><br /> + + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page353" id="page353"></a>[pg 353]</span> + + +<h3>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h3> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 180px;"> +<a href="images/353-1.png"><img src="images/353-1-180.png" width="180" height="332" alt="A GOVERNMENT RECRUIT." /></a> +<p class="center">A GOVERNMENT RECRUIT.</p> +<p>Sir <span class="sc">Philip Lloyd-Greame</span>.</p> +<p><i>Parliamentary Secretary to the Board of Trade.</i></p> +</div> + +<p> +<i>Monday, October 25th</i>.—Sir <span class="sc">Philip +Lloyd-Greame</span>, the newest recruit on +the Treasury Bench, already answers +Questions with all the assurance of the +other <span class="sc">Lloyd G</span>. His readiness in referring +the inquisitive to other Departments +and in declining to go beyond +his brief—witness his modest refusal to +discuss in reply to a Supplementary +Question the possibility of imposing a +tariff in this country—suggests that +somewhere behind the <span class="sc">Speaker's</span> chair +there must be a school for Under-Secretaries +where the callow back-bencher +is instructed in the arts and crafts required +in the seats of the mighty.</p> +<p> +For this purpose I can imagine no +better instructor than the <span class="sc">Attorney-General</span>, +who combines scrupulous +politeness with an icy precision of language. +Take, for example, his treatment +of Mr. <span class="sc">Pemberton Billing's</span> defiant +inquiry if it would now be "compatible +with the dignity of the Government" +to say that there had never been any +intention to bring the War-criminals +to trial. "No," replied Sir <span class="sc">Gordon +Hewart</span> in his most pedagogic manner, +"it cannot be compatible with anyone's +dignity to make a statement which is +manifestly untrue."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"> +<a href="images/353-2.png"><img src="images/353-2-200.png" width="200" height="345" alt="SOMETHING 'SUBSTANTIAL.'" /></a> +<p class="center">SOMETHING "SUBSTANTIAL."</p> +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Will Thorne</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p> +This week was to have been devoted, +<i>de die in diem</i>, to getting on with the +Government of Ireland Bill. But the +malignant sprite that has hitherto foiled +every effort to pacify Ireland again intervened, +and the House found itself +called upon to discuss the Emergency +Powers Bill. The measure is a peace-time +successor to D.O.R.A. (who in the +opinion of the Government is getting +a little <i>passée</i>) and, perhaps naturally, +met with little approval. Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span>, +while admitting that something of the +kind might be required, took exception +to the vagueness of its drafting. "What +is 'substantial'?" he inquired. "Ask +them another!" Mr. <span class="sc">Will Thorne</span> +joyfully interjected. "What is 'substantial'?" +repeated the <span class="sc">ex-Premier</span>; +whereupon the Coalition with one voice +replied, "<span class="sc">Will Thorne</span>."</p> + +<p> +With consummate skill the <span class="sc">Prime +Minister</span> managed to get the House +out of its hostile mood and to satisfy +the majority, at any rate, that the +measure was neither provocative nor +inopportune, but a necessary precaution +against the possibility that "direct +action" on the part of extra-Parliamentary +bodies might confront the +country with the alternatives of starvation +or surrender.</p> +<p> +<i>Tuesday, October 26th</i>.—In these +troublous times the House gladly seizes +the smallest occasion for merriment. +There was great laughter when Colonel +<span class="sc">Yate</span>, the politest of men, inadvertently +referred to Sir <span class="sc">Archibald Williamson</span> +as "the right honourable gent," and it +broke forth again when, in his anxiety to +make no further slip, he addressed him +<i>tout court</i> as "the right honourable."</p> +<p> +There are some fifty thousand British +soldiers in Ireland, costing over a +million pounds a month. But Mr. +<span class="sc">Churchill</span> took the cheery view that +after all they had to be somewhere, +and would cost nearly as much even in +Great Britain.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;"> +<a href="images/353-3.png"><img src="images/353-3-200.png" width="200" height="287" alt="THE BOLD BAD BARON." /></a> +<p class="center">THE BOLD BAD BARON.</p> +<p><i>Sir Gordon Hewart</i>. "<span class="sc">Merely a framework—quite useless without a rope</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p> +They would cost a good deal more +in Mesopotamia, where we have a +hundred thousand troops (British and +Indian), and the cost is two and a half +millions a month. Sir <span class="sc">William Joynson-Hicks</span> +could not understand why +we should spend all this money "merely +to hand the country back to the rebels." +Mr. <span class="sc">Churchill</span> said he had heard nothing +about handing the country back +to the rebels; from which it may be +inferred either that he is not admitted +into all the secrets of the Cabinet or +that he draws a distinction between +"rebels" and "persons who object to +British rule."</p> + +<p> +The Press campaign in favour of a +nickel three-halfpenny coin has not succeeded. +In Mr. <span class="sc">Chamberlain's</span> opinion +it would not be a coin of vantage. +Among his objections to it may be the +extreme probability that the present +Administration would promptly be nicknamed +(I will not say nickel-named) +"the Three-half-penny Government."</p> + +<p> +Owing to a number of concessions +announced by the <span class="sc">Home Secretary</span> +the Emergency Powers Bill had a fairly +smooth passage through Committee. +Objections were still raised to making +an Emergency Act permanent—it <i>does</i> +sound rather like a contradiction in +terms—but the <span class="sc">Attorney-General</span> +skilfully countered them by pointing +out that it was only the framework of +the machinery, not the regulations, that +would be permanent. One can imagine +the bold bad baron who set up a gallows +to overawe his villeins comforting objectors +with the remark that after all it +was merely a framework—quite useless +without a rope.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 334px;"> +<a href="images/354.png"><img src="images/354-334.png" width="334" height="450" alt="A PILLAR OF THE CHURCH." /></a> +<p>A PILLAR OF THE CHURCH.</p> +</div> + +<p> +<i>Wednesday, October 27th</i>.—Much +pother in the Lords because the <span class="sc">First +Commissioner of Works</span> had set up +a Committee to advise him with regard +to the preservation of ancient<span class="pagenum"><a name="page354" id="page354"></a>[pg 354]</span> +monuments, including cathedrals and +churches, without first consulting the +ecclesiastical authorities. Lord <span class="sc">Parmoor</span> +moved a condemnatory resolution, +and His Grace of <span class="sc">Canterbury</span>, +after renouncing Sir <span class="sc">Alfred Mond</span> and +all his works, declared that, so far as +religious edifices were concerned, the +proposed Committee was a superfluity +of naughtiness with which he personally +would have nothing to do. Lord +<span class="sc">Lytton</span>, with that delightful free-and-easiness +which characterises the attitude +of our present Ministers towards +their colleagues, observed that he could +have sympathised with the objectors if +it were really intended to place +cathedrals under Sir <span class="sc">Alfred's</span> +care; but it wasn't;—so why all +this fuss? Lord <span class="sc">Crawford</span>, while +sharing the Opposition's dislike +of restorers, from <span class="sc">Viollet-le-Duc</span> +to the late Lord <span class="sc">Grimthorpe</span>, +could not admit that in this matter +the Office of Works had been +guilty of anything worse than a +want of tact. Lord <span class="sc">Parmoor</span> insisted +on going to a division, and +carried his motion by 27 to 17. +Despite this shattering blow the +Government is said to be going +on as well as can be expected.</p> + +<p> +What happened at Jutland? +After four years' cogitation the +Admiralty does not appear to +have emerged from the state of +uncertainty into which it was +plunged by the first news of the +battle. In February last Mr. <span class="sc">Long</span> +announced that the official report +would be published "shortly," but +then the German sailors began +to publish <i>their</i> stories, and these +not very unnaturally differed from +the British accounts. So now +My Lords have decided to leave +Sir <span class="sc">Julian Corbett's</span> <i>Naval History +of the War</i> to unravel the +tangle and inform Lords <span class="sc">Jellicoe</span> and +<span class="sc">Beatty</span> (who, according to Sir <span class="sc">James +Craig</span>, are quite agreeable to the proposal) +exactly what they and their gallant +seamen really did on that famous +occasion.</p> +<p> +<i>Thursday, October 28th</i>.—There being +no Labour Party in the House of Lords +the Emergency Powers Bill passed +through all its stages in a single sitting. +Even Lord <span class="sc">Crewe</span> did not challenge its +necessity in these troublous times, but +Lord <span class="sc">Askwith</span> was a little alarmed +at the possibility that "an unreasoning +Home Secretary"—as if there could +ever be such a monster!—might be over-hasty +to issue Orders in Council, and so +exacerbate an industrial dispute.</p> +<p> +A long list of "reprisal" Questions—mercifully +curtailed by the time-limit—was +chiefly remarkable for Sir <span class="sc">Hamar +Greenwood's</span> emphatic declaration that +he was not going to accept the statements +even of English newspaper +correspondents against the reports of +officials "for whom I am responsible +and in whom I have confidence."</p> +<p> +Assuming that the House of Commons +is, as it ought to be, a microcosm +of the population, it will be some time +before this country goes "dry." Members +of all parties pressed upon the +<span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> the necessity of relaxing +the regulations of the Liquor +Control Board. His suggestion that +an informal Committee should be set +up to make recommendations to the +Government was received with cheers, +and there was much amusement when +Mr. <span class="sc">Bottomley</span> and Lady <span class="sc">Astor</span>, who +do not, I gather, quite see eye to eye on +this subject, promptly nominated themselves +for membership.</p> +<p> +As the <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> is popularly +supposed to be not averse from appearing +in the limelight, especially when +there is good news to impart, it is +pleasant to record that he left to Sir +<span class="sc">Robert Horne</span> the congenial task of +announcing that an agreement had +been reached with the Miners' Federation, +and that the coal-strike was on +the high road to settlement. The +terms, as stated, seemed to be satisfactory +to all parties, and the only mystery +is why the negotiators should have +required the stimulus of a strike before +they could arrive at them.</p> + + <hr /> + +<h3>THE DOWNING OF THE PEN.</h3> +<p> +A little difference of opinion on the +moral aspect of strikes which has been +ventilated in <i>The Daily News</i> has caused +one correspondent to write: "Let us +suppose that Mr. <span class="sc">Silas Hocking</span> regards +the serial rights of one of his novels as +worth £250. Suppose I offer him £100. +What does he do? He withholds his +labour; and quite right too!"</p> +<p> +But does this analogy go far enough? +It would be a simple matter, for which +we might easily console ourselves, if +the author in question merely withheld +his own labour. But if he followed +modern strike tactics he would +do more.</p> +<p> +Calling in aid the services of +his brother <span class="sc">Joseph</span>, he would endeavour +by peaceful persuasion to +induce Mrs. <span class="sc">Asquith</span>, Mr. <span class="sc">Arnold +Bennett</span>, Mrs. <span class="sc">Elinor Glyn</span>, Mr. +<span class="sc">Compton Mackenzie</span> and others +to withhold their labour also. +Picketing would follow, and London +would be stirred to its depths +by the news that Sir <span class="sc">Hall Caine</span> +was on duty outside the establishment +of <i>The Sunday Pictorial</i>, +and that Miss <span class="sc">Ethel M. Dell</span> +was in charge of the squad on the +doorstep of the Amalgamated +Press.</p> +<p> +Sympathetic strikes would develope. +The newspaper-vendors +would rise and demand that <i>The +Daily Mirror</i> feuilleton be suppressed, +thus plunging the country +into an agony of suspense, +and railwaymen would cease work +at the sight of any passenger immersed +in the most recent instalment +of the <i>Home Bits</i> serial story.</p> +<p> +Mr. <span class="sc">W. W. Jacobs</span> would address +mass meetings at the Docks, +and Mr. <span class="sc">Hilaire Belloc</span> would +embark on a resolute thirst-strike. +At the same time daily newspapers +would compete in offering solutions of +the problem. One would say, "For +goodness' sake give him the extra paltry +one hundred and fifty pounds and +let the country get on with its work;" +and another would suggest a compromise +at one hundred-and-fifty guineas, +conditional upon the author's output.</p> +<p> +Far from the simple withholding of +his labour by a single novelist, such a +turmoil would ensue as would not only +shake our intellectual life to its foundations, +but would keep the <span class="sc">Prime +Minister</span> engaged in the exploration +of interminable vistas of avenue.</p> + + <hr /> + +<h4>Mixed Education.</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +"Formerly a student at Lady Margaret Hall, +Oxford, her husband is a Fellow of Balliol +College."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Local Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + + <hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page355" id="page355"></a>[pg 355]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/355.png"><img src="images/355-600.png" width="600" height="412" alt="I always try to make my subjects' portraits a mirror of their past lives." /></a> +<p><i>Prospective Sitter</i> (<i>with unconventional past</i>). "<span class="sc">I always think you get such wonderful character into your portraits</span>."</p> +<p><i>Artist</i>. "<span class="sc">Glad to hear that. I always try to make my subjects' portraits a mirror of their past lives</span>."</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + <hr /> + + +<h3>THE SUBSTITUTE.</h3> +<p class="center"> +[Sweets are replacing alcohol.—<i>Vide Papers passim</i>.]</p> + +<div class="poem1"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As more and more the god of wine</p> + <p class="i2">Grows faint from want of tippling,</p> +<p>Nor round his path the roses shine,</p> + <p class="i2">Nor purple streams are rippling;</p> + <p class="i4">As usquebaugh and malt and hops</p> + <p class="i6">No longer much entice us,</p> + <p class="i4">We crown anew with lollipops,</p> + <p class="i4">With peppermints, with acid drops,</p> + <p class="i6">The nobler Dionysus.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Bright coloured as his orient car,</p> + <p class="i2">Piled high with autumn splendours,</p> +<p>The pageants of the sweetstuffs are</p> + <p class="i2">At all the pastry-vendors;</p> + <p class="i4">From earliest flush of dawn till eight</p> + <p class="i6">The Mænad nymphs in masses,</p> + <p class="i4">With lions' help upbear the freight</p> + <p class="i4">Of marzipan and chocolate</p> + <p class="i6">And stickjaw and molasses.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The poet from whose lips of flame</p> + <p class="i2">Wine drew the songs, the full sighs,</p> +<p>Performs the business just the same</p> + <p class="i2">When masticating bull's-eyes;</p> + <p class="i4">The knight who bids a fond "Farewell,</p> + <p class="i6">Love's large, but honour's larger!"</p> + <p class="i4">Shares with the Lady Amabel</p> + <p class="i4">One last delicious caramel</p> + <p class="i6">And leaps upon his charger.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The rake inured to card-room traps,</p> + <p class="i2">Yet making fearful faces</p> +<p>Because his foes, perfidious chaps,</p> + <p class="i2">Have always all the aces—</p> + <p class="i4">"Ruined! the old place mortgaged! faugh!"</p> + <p class="i6">(The guttering candles quiver)—</p> + <p class="i4">Instead of draining brandy raw</p> + <p class="i4">Clenches a jujube in his jaw</p> + <p class="i6">And strolls towards the river.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>O happier time that soothes the brain</p> + <p class="i2">And rids us of our glum fits</p> +<p>(Eliminating dry champagne)</p> + <p class="i2">With candy and with comfits!</p> + <p class="i4">The oak reflects the firelight's beam,</p> + <p class="i6">In song the moments fly by,</p> + <p class="i4">Till the old squire, his face agleam,</p> + <p class="i4">Sucking the last assorted cream,</p> + <p class="i6">Toddles away to bye-bye.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i24"><span class="sc">Evoe</span>.</p> +</div> +</div> + + <hr /> + +<p>From a P.S.A. notice:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Subject: '<span class="sc">A Renewed World</span>—No Sorrow. No Pain. + No Death.' No Collection."</p> + <p class="author"> + —<i>Local Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +The last item sounds almost too good to be true.</p> + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The proposed changes were discussed with the captain of the +England side and one or two prominent crickets who had visited +Australia."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Expensive Daily Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +Hitherto it had been supposed that these cheerful little +creatures only sought the kind of "ashes" that you get on +the domestic hearth.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page356" id="page356"></a>[pg 356]</span> + + <hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/356.png"><img src="images/356-600.png" width="600" height="369" alt="'We ain't a bit afraid, Alfy 'Iggins. Yer own fice is a lump uglier.'" /></a> +<p>"<span class="sc">We ain't a bit afraid, Alfy 'Iggins. Yer own fice is a lump uglier</span>."</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + <hr /> + + +<h3>A STRIKE IN FAIRYLAND.</h3> + +<p> +The fairies were holding a meeting.</p> +<p> +"They grumble when we send the rain," said a Rain-fairy, +"and they grumble when we don't."</p> +<p> +"And we get no thanks," sighed a Flower-fairy. "The +time we spend getting the flowers ready and washing their +faces and folding them up every night!"</p> +<p> +"As for the stars," said a Star-fairy, "we might just as +well leave them unlit for all the gratitude we get, and it's +such a rush sometimes to get all over the sky in time. They +don't even believe in us. We wouldn't mind <i>anything</i> if they +believed in us."</p> +<p> +"No," agreed a Rainbow-fairy, "that's true. I take such +a lot of trouble to get just the right colours, and it has to be +done so quickly. But I wouldn't mind if they believed in us."</p> +<p> +"I wonder what <i>they</i>'d do," said the Queen, "if no one +believed in them?"</p> +<p> +"They'd go on strike," said the Brown Owl (he was +head of the Ministry of Wisdom). "They always go on +strike if they don't like anything."</p> +<p> +"Then we'll go on strike," said the Queen with great +determination.</p> +<p> +They all cheered, except the Flower-fairies.</p> +<p> +"But the flowers," they said, "they'll get so dusty with +no one to wash them, and so tired with no one to fold them +up at nights."</p> +<p> +"I hadn't thought of that," said the Queen. "When +<i>they</i> go on strike," she said to the Brown Owl, "how do +things get done?"</p> +<p> +The Brown Owl considered for a moment and everyone +waited in silence.</p> +<p> +"Of course there are sometimes blacklegs," he began.</p> +<p> +"I don't know what blacklegs are," said the Queen +cheerfully, "but we'll appoint some." And she did.</p> +<p> +"Is that all?" said the Queen.</p> +<p> +"Someone ought to have a sympathetic strike with us," +said the Brown Owl. "<i>They</i> always do that."</p> +<p> +So a fairy was sent off to the Court of the Birds to +request a sympathetic strike.</p> +<p> +"Is <i>that</i> all?" said the Queen.</p> +<p> +"You ought to <i>talk</i> more," said the Brown Owl. "<i>They</i> +talk ever so much."</p> +<p> +"Yes, but they can't help it, can they?" said the Queen +kindly.</p> +<p> +And so the strike began that evening.</p> +<p> +None of the birds sang except one little blackleg Robin, +who sang so hard in his efforts to make up for the rest +that he was as hoarse as a crow the next morning. The +blackleg fairies had a hard time too. They hadn't a minute +to gossip with the flowers, as they usually did when they +flew round with their acorn-cups of dew and thistledown +sponges and washed their faces and folded up their petals +and kissed them good-night.</p> +<p> +"But what's the matter?" said the flowers sleepily.</p> +<p> +"We're on strike," said one of the other fairies importantly +"not for ourselves, but for posterity."</p> +<p> +The Brown Owl had heard <i>them</i> say that.</p> +<p> +Meanwhile the rest of the fairies sat silent and rather +mournful, awaiting developments.</p> +<p> +Then a Thought-fairy flew in. Thought-fairies can see +into your heart and know just what you think. They get +terrible shocks sometimes.</p> +<p> +"I've been all over the world," she said breathlessly, +"and it's much better than you think. <i>All</i> little girls +believe in us and—" She paused dramatically.</p> +<p> +"Yes?" they said eagerly.</p> +<p> +"All fathers of little girls believe in us."</p> +<p> +The Queen shook her head.</p> +<p> +"They only pretend," she said.</p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page357" id="page357"></a>[pg 357]</span> +<p> +"No, that's just it," said the Thought-fairy. "They +<i>pretend</i> to pretend. They never tell anyone, but they really +believe."</p> +<p> +"Then we'll end the strike," said the Queen.</p> +<p> +Here the Brown Owl bustled in, carrying a little note-book.</p> +<p> +"I've found out lots more," he said excitedly. "We +must have an executive and delegates and a ballot and a +union and a Sankey Commission report and a scale of the +cost of living and a datum line and—"</p> +<p> +"But the strike's over," said the Queen. "It was a +misunderstanding."</p> +<p> +"Of course," he said huffily. "All strikes are that, but +it's correct to carry them on as long as possible."</p> +<p> +"And the blacklegs are to have a special reward."</p> +<p> +"That's illogical," muttered the Brown Owl.</p> +<p> +He was right, of course, but things <i>are</i> illogical in +Fairyland. That's the nicest part of it.</p> + + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/357.png"><img src="images/357-600.png" width="600" height="408" alt="... our car was driven up all the flights of steps at the Crystal Palace" /></a> +<p><i>Salesman</i>. "<span class="sc">It is possible that it may interest you to know that our car was driven up all the flights of steps at +the Crystal Palace</span>."</p> +<p><i>Inquiring Visitor</i>. "<span class="sc">Well—er—not much. You see, I live in a bungalow</span>."</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Fears are entertained that the chalice, which is of silver-gilt, may +have been broken up and investments profaned."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Daily Herald.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +We should have thought that our Communistic contemporary +was the last paper that would have considered +investments sacred.</p> + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"K. T. B—— and T. W. H——, both of Liverpool, who were in +company with Mr. L—— in the car, agreed that the speed was +about fifty-one miles an hour. On the gradient and at the turn it was +not safe to travel faster."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Provincial Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +One of those examples of "Safety First" which we are +always pleased to chronicle.</p> + + <hr /> + + + <h4>THE OPENING RUN.</h4> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>The rain-sodden grass in the ditches is dying;</p> + <p class="i2">The berries are red to the crest of the thorn;</p> + <p>Coronet-deep where the beech-leaves are lying</p> + <p class="i2">The hunters stand tense to the twang of the horn;</p> + <p>Where rides are refilled with the green of the mosses,</p> + <p class="i2">All foam-flecked and fretful their long line is strung;</p> + <p>You can see the white gleam as a starred forehead tosses,</p> + <p class="i2">You can hear the low chink as a bit-bar is flung.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>The world's full of music. Hounds rustle the rover</p> + <p class="i2">Through brushwood and fern to a glad "Gone away!"</p> + <p>With a "Come along, Pilot!"—one spur-touch and over—</p> + <p class="i2">The huntsman is clear on his galloping grey;</p> + <p>Before him the pack's running straight on the stubble—</p> + <p class="i2">"<i>Toot-toot-too-too-too-oot!</i>" "<i>Tow-row-ow-ow-ow!</i>"</p> + <p>The leaders are clambering up through the double</p> + <p class="i2">And glittering away on the brown of the plough.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>The front rank, hands down, have the big fence's measure;</p> + <p class="i2">The faint-hearts are craning to left and to right;</p> + <p>The Master goes through with a crash on "The Treasure;"</p> + <p class="i2">The grey takes the lot like a gull in his flight;</p> + <p>There's a brown crumpled up, lying still as a dead one;</p> + <p class="i2">There's a roan mare refusing, as stubborn as sin;</p> + <p>While the breaker flogs up on a green underbred one</p> + <p class="i2">And smashes the far-away rail with a grin.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>The chase carries on over hilltop and hollow,</p> + <p class="i2">The life of Old England, the pluck and the fun;</p> + <p>And who would ask more than a stiff line to follow</p> + <p class="i2">With hounds running hard in the Opening Run?</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p class="i32">W. H. O.</p> + </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page358" id="page358"></a>[pg 358]</span> + </div> + + <hr /> + +<h3>IN PRAISE OF THE PELICANS.</h3> + +<div class="poem1"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The pelicans in St. James's Park</p> +<p>On every day from dawn to dark</p> +<p>Pursue, inscrutable of mien,</p> +<p>A fixed unvarying routine.</p> +<p>Whatever be the wind or weather</p> +<p>They spend their time in peace together,</p> +<p>And plainly nothing can upset</p> +<p>The harmony of their quartet.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Most punctually by the clock</p> +<p>They roost upon or quit their rock,</p> +<p>Or swim ashore and hold their levée,</p> +<p>Lords of the mixed lacustrine bevy;</p> +<p>Or with their slow unwieldy gait</p> +<p>Their green domain perambulate,</p> +<p>Or with prodigious flaps and prances</p> +<p>Indulge in their peculiar dances,</p> +<p>Returning to their feeding-ground</p> +<p>What time the keeper goes his round</p> +<p>With fish and scraps for their nutrition</p> +<p>After laborious deglutition.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Calm, self-sufficing, self-possessed,</p> +<p>They never mingle with the rest,</p> +<p>Watching with not unfriendly eye</p> +<p>The antics of the lesser fry,</p> +<p>Save when bold sparrows draw too near</p> +<p>Their mighty beaks—and disappear.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Outlandish birds, at times grotesque,</p> +<p>And yet superbly picturesque,</p> +<p>Although resignedly we mourn</p> +<p>A Park dismantled and forlorn,</p> +<p>Long may it be ere you forsake</p> +<p>Your quarters on the minished Lake;</p> +<p>For there, with splendid plumes and hues</p> +<p>And ways that startle and amuse,</p> +<p>You constantly refresh the eye</p> +<p>And cheer the heart of passers-by,</p> +<p>Untouched by years of shock and strain,</p> +<p>Undeviatingly urbane,</p> +<p>And lending London's commonplace</p> +<p>A touch of true heraldic grace.</p> +</div> +</div> + + <hr /> + +<br /><br /> +<h3>RING IN THE OLD.</h3> +<p> +There is a shabby-looking man who +(I read it in <i>The Times</i>) rings the bell +of London hospitals, asks to see the secretary, +presumes (as is always a safe +thing to do) that the establishment is +grievously in need of funds, and without +any further parley hands to the startled +but gratified official bank-notes to the +tune of five hundred pounds. He then +vanishes without giving name or address. +This unknown benefactor is +dressed in top-boots, riding breeches of +honourable antiquity, a black coat green +with age and a "Cup Final" cap. At +the same time (this too on <i>The Times</i>' +authority) there is an oddly and obsolescently +attired lady going about who +also makes London hospitals her hobby. +She begins by asking the secretary if +she may take off her boots, and, receiving +permission, takes them off, places +her feet on an adjacent chair and hands +him two thousand pounds.</p> +<p> +The result of the activities of these +angelic visitants is that all the other +hospital porters have had instructions +from their eager and hopeful secretaries +to be careful to be polite to any and +every person, even though he or she +should be in rags, who expresses the +faintest desire to enter on business; +more than polite—solicitous, welcoming, +cordial; while all the secretaries +are at this moment polishing up their +smiles and practising an easy manner +with ladies in last century costumes who +put sudden and unexpected requests.</p> +<p> +<i>The Times</i>, in limiting the effect of +these curious occurrences entirely to +hospital servants, seems to me to lose +a great opportunity. Surely the consequences +will be more wide-reaching +than that? To my mind we may even +go so far as to hail the dawn of the +golden age for old clothes; for in the +fear that shabbiness may be merely +a whimsical disguise or the mark of +a millionaire's eccentricity the whole +world (which is very imitative and very +hard up) will begin to fawn upon it, +and then at last many of us will enter +the earthly paradise.</p> +<p> +But the gentleman who puts ease +before elegance and the lady who prefers +comfort to convention have got to +work a little harder yet. They must +not fold their hands at the moment +under the impression that their labours +are done. The support of hospitals is +humane and only too necessary, and +all honour to them for their generosity; +but other spheres of action await exploration.</p> +<p> +I had hoped that the War was going +to reform ideas on dress and make +things more simple for those whose +trouser-knees go baggy so soon and remain +thus for so long; but, like too +many of the expectations which we used +to foster, this also has failed. It is +therefore the benign couple who must +carry on the good work. Let them, if +they really love their fellow-creatures, +go to a wedding or two (having previously +given a present of sufficient +value to ensure respect) and display +their careless garb among the guests, +and then in a little while old garments +would at these exacting functions become +as fashionable as new and we +should all be happier.</p> +<p> +I was asked to a wedding last week, +and should have accepted but for the +great Smart Clothes tradition. If <i>The +Times</i>' hero and heroine were to become +imaginatively busy as I suggest, +I could go to all the weddings in the +world. (Heaven forbid!) Receptions, +formal lunches, the laying of stones, +the unveiling of monuments, private +views—these ceremonies, now so full +of terrors for any but the dressy, could +be made endurable if only the gentleman +in the black coat green with age +and the lady with the elastic sides +would show themselves prominently +and receive conspicuous attentions.</p> +<p> +And then, if any more statues were +needed for the police to keep their +waterproofs on, one of them should be +that of an unknown philanthropical +gentleman who wears venerable top-boots, +and another that of a philanthropical +lady who would rather be +without any boots at all, and the inscription +on the pedestals would state that +their glorious achievement was this: +They made old clothes the thing.</p> +<p class="author">E. V. L.</p> + +<hr /> + + +<h3>THE OLD BEER FLAGON.</h3> +<p class="center"> +(<i>Many old English flagons are adorned +inside with grotesque figures of animals</i>.)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Within my foaming flagon</p> + <p class="i2">There crawls on countless legs</p> +<p>A lazy grinning dragon</p> + <p class="i2">That wallows in the dregs;</p> +<p>Of old I saw him nightly</p> + <p class="i2">Look up with friendly leer,</p> +<p>As if to hint politely,</p> + <p class="i2">"I share your taste in beer!"</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Through merry nights unnumbered</p> + <p class="i2">(From Boxing Day to Yule)</p> +<p>He'd greet me, ere I slumbered,</p> + <p class="i2">From out his amber pool;</p> +<p>But now he is beginning</p> + <p class="i2">To look a trifle strange;</p> +<p>His smile, once wide and winning,</p> + <p class="i2">Has undergone a change.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>No more, as pints diminish</p> + <p class="i2">(I wish the price grew less)</p> +<p>He hails me at the finish</p> + <p class="i2">With wonted cheeriness;</p> +<p>For, as I drain my mellow</p> + <p class="i2">Allowances of ale,</p> +<p>He seems to sigh, "Old fellow,</p> + <p class="i2"><i>Will</i> <span class="sc">Pussyfoot</span> prevail?"</p> +</div> +</div> + + <hr /> + + +<h4>Commercial Candour.</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +"Cleaning and pressing suites, $3. Dyeing +and pressing suits, $6. Clothes returned +looking like now."</p> +<p class="author"> +<i>Advt. in</i> "<i>Standard</i>" (<i>Buenos Aires</i>). +</p></blockquote> + + <hr /> +<p> +From an election address:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"As a woman and a ratepayer, I realise the +importance of eliminating all unavoidable +expenditure in Municipal undertakings."</p> +<p class="author"> +<i>Local Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +We trust she will be elected and show +how it's done.</p> + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"After an interval of seven years, the +'Beasts' Ball, a pre-war popular annual event +in aid of the Royal Society for Prevention of +Cruelty to Animals, is to be held at the Guildhall, +on Wednesday, November 10. Tickets +can be obtained from Mrs. Bushe-Fox and +from Mrs. Wolf."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Cambridge Review.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +It sounds just like <i>Uncle Remus</i>.</p> + + <hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page359" id="page359"></a>[pg 359]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/359.png"><img src="images/359-600.png" width="600" height="432" alt="ECHOES OF THE COAL STRIKE." /></a> +<p class="center"><b>ECHOES OF THE COAL STRIKE.</b></p> +<p>"<span class="sc">What's the kid shouting about? There ain't no racing.</span>"</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + <hr /> + + +<h3>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h3> + +<h4>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</h4> +<p> +"Two households, both alike in dignity...." I ask +you, could the novel, of which this quotation is the text, +have been written by anyone but Mr. <span class="sc">John Galsworthy</span>? +Actually indeed the disputants belong to two branches of +the same family, that grim tribe of <i>Forsytes</i>, whom you +remember in <i>The Man of Property</i>, and of whose collective +history the present book is a further instalment (not, I +fancy, the last). I should certainly advise anyone not already +familiar with the former work to get up his <i>Forsytes</i> therein +before attacking this; otherwise he may risk some discouragement +from the plunge into so numerous a clan, +known for the most part only by Christian names, with +their complex relationships and the mass of bygone happenings +that unites or separates them. This stage of the +tribal history is called <i>In Chancery</i> (<span class="sc">Heinemann</span>), chiefly +from the state of suspended animation experienced by the +now middle-aged <i>Soames</i> ("Man of Property") with regard +to his never-divorced runaway wife <i>Irene</i>. Following the +ruling <i>Forsyte</i> instinct, <i>Soames</i> wants a son who will keep +together and even increase his great possessions, while +continuing his personality. The expiring generation, represented +by <i>James</i>, is urgent upon this duty to the family. +You may imagine what Mr. <span class="sc">Galsworthy</span> makes of it all. +These possessive persons, with their wealth, their hatred +and affections and their various strongholds in the more +eminently desirable parts of residential London, affect one +like portions of some monstrous stone-fronted edifice, impressive +but repellent. I have some curiosity to see, with +Mr. <span class="sc">Galsworthy's</span> help, how the <i>Forsyte</i> castle stands +the disintegration of 1914-18.</p> + + <hr /> +<p> +What with the scientists who explain things on the +assumption that we know nearly as much as they do and +those who explain things on the assumption that we know +nothing, it is very difficult for you and me to persevere in +our original determination to learn <i>something</i>. But I have +always felt that Sir <span class="sc">Ray Lankester</span> is one of the very few +who do understand us, and I feel it still more strongly now +that I have read his <i>Secrets of Earth and Sea</i> (<span class="sc">Methuen</span>). +He is instructive but human; he does not take it for granted +that we know what miscegenation means, but he does +credit us with a little intelligence. And he realises how +many arguments we have had about questions like "Why +does the sea look blue?" Personally I rushed at that +chapter, though I must say that I was a little disappointed +to find that the gist of his answer was "Because water <i>is</i> +blue." You see, if you had a tooth-glass fifteen feet high +and filled it with water—But you must find out for +yourself. Then I went on to the chapter on Coal, and +discovered that "it is fairly certain that the blacker coal +which we find in strata of great geological age was so produced +by the action of special kinds of bacteria upon peat-like +masses of vegetable refuse." I wonder if Mr. <span class="sc">Smillie</span> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page360" id="page360"></a>[pg 360]</span> +knows that. It might help him to a sense of proportion. +The author is constantly setting up a surprising but stimulating +relation between the naturalist's researches and the +problems of human life, as when he observes that "the +'colour bar' is not merely the invention of human prejudice, +but already exists in wild plants and animals," and in his +remarks on mongrels and the regrettable subjection of the +males of many species. There are chapters on Wheel +Animalcules, Vesuvius, Prehistoric Art—everything—and all +are admirably illustrated. A fascinating book.</p> + + <hr /> +<p> +<i>The Diary of a Journalist</i> (<span class="sc">Murray</span>) is a volume of which +the title is its own sufficient description, save that it leaves +unsuggested the interest that such briskly written and +comprehensive comments as these of our old friend, Sir +<span class="sc">Henry Lucy</span>, must command. His book differs from most +of those in the flood of recollections that has lately broken +upon us in being a selection from "impressions of the +moment written without knowledge of the ultimate result." +In these stray moments +between the years 1885 +and 1917 I find at least +two examples in which +this ignorance of the +final event adds much +to the interest of the +immediate record—the +startling forecast of the +<span class="sc">ex-Kaiser's</span> destiny, +entered in the Diary +under November '98; +and the mention, long +before the actual illness +of <span class="sc">King Edward</span> declared +itself, of the +growing belief in certain +circles that his +coronation would never +take place. It is at +once obvious that not +even "<span class="sc">Toby's</span>" three +previous volumes have +by any means exhausted +his fund of good +stories, the scenes of +which range from Westminster +to Bouverie Street, and round half the stately (or, at +least, interesting) homes of England. Of them all—not +forgetting <span class="sc">Disraeli</span> and the peacocks and a new <span class="sc">W. S. +Gilbert</span>—my personal choice would be for the mystery +of the Unknown Guest, who not only took a place, +but was persuaded to speak, at a private dinner given by +Sir <span class="sc">John Hare</span> at the Garrick Club, without anyone ever +knowing who he was or how he came there. A genial +lucky-bag book, which (despite unusually full chapter headings) +would be improved by an index to its many prizes.</p> + + <hr /> +<p> +Mr. <span class="sc">James Hilton</span> is very young and very clever. If, as +he grows older, he learns to be clever about more interesting +things he ought to write some very good novels. <i>Catherine +Herself</i> (<span class="sc">Unwin</span>) has red hair, but then she has a rather +more red-haired disposition than most red-haired heroines +have to justify it, so this is not my real objection to the +book. My quarrel is that, though I cannot call it an ugly +story without giving a false impression, it is certainly a +quite unbeautiful one, and at the end of its three hundred +and more pages it has achieved nothing but a full-length +portrait of an utterly selfish woman. Mr. <span class="sc">Hilton</span> has +dissected her most brilliantly; but I don't think she is +worth it. Catherines, whether they marry or are given in +marriage, or do anything else, are really stationary; and, +since the persons of a story, if it is to be worth telling, +must move in some direction, Mr. <span class="sc">Hilton</span> will be well +advised in future to choose a different type of heroine. I +want to say too that I don't believe that it is either so +easy or so profitable to become a well-known pianist "not +in the front rank" as he seems to imagine it is. I wish I +could think that no one else would believe him.</p> + + <hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/360.png"><img src="images/360-600.png" width="600" height="397" alt="Fasten it on my back. One never knows - it may be useful in case of a reverse." /></a> +<p><i>Knight</i> (<i>to his henchman</i>). "<span class="sc">Everything all right, Perkins? You haven't +forgotten anything? What's that?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Henchman</i>. "<span class="sc">It's the portrait of your lady, Sir, that you promised +to take into battle with you, Sir.</span>"</p> +<p><i>Knight</i>. "<span class="sc">Did I? Well, I must e'en keep my word. Fasten it on my +back. One never knows—it may be useful in case of a reverse.</span>"</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + + <hr /> +<p> +It seems rather a bright idea of <span class="sc">C. Nina Boyle</span> to +dedicate "to <span class="sc">Thea</span> and <span class="sc">Irene</span>, whose lives have lain in +sheltered ways," a seven-shilling shocker about ways that +are anything but sheltered. Perhaps the sheltered in general, +and Thea and Irene in particular, will take it from me that +the villainies of <i>Out of the Frying Pan</i> are much larger than +life or, at any rate, much more concentrated, and that +pseudo-orphans like <i>Maisie</i> usually have a better chance +of getting out of frying-pans into something cool than +the author allows her +heroine. I also submit +that there was nothing +in <i>Maisie's</i> equipment +to suggest that she +would have been quite +so slow in separating +goats from sheep. But +let me say that <span class="sc">Thea</span> +and <span class="sc">Irene</span> have had +dedicated to them an +exciting and amusing +<i>fritto misto</i> of crooks, +demi-mondaines, blackmailers, +gamblers, +roués, murderers, receivers +and decent congenital +idiots of all sorts. +The characterisation is +adroitly done and the +workmanship avoids +that slovenliness which +makes nineteen out of +twenty books of this +kind a weariness of +spirit to the perceptive. +I wonder if <i>Maisie</i> with +such a father and mother would have been such a darling. +Perhaps Professor <span class="sc">Karl Pearson</span> will explain.</p> + + <hr /> +<p> +The <i>Hon. William Toppys</i> (pronounced "Tops"), brother +of <i>Lord Topsham</i>, left Devonshire and retired to an island in +the Torres Straits. There he married a Melanesian woman +and became the father of a frizzy-haired and coffee-coloured +son. It is a little strange to me, who think of +Mr. <span class="sc">Bennet Copplestone</span> as Devonian to the tip of his +pen-finger, that the <i>Hon. William</i> is not rebuked for so +shamelessly deserting his native county. Instead he is +almost applauded for his wisdom, and this despite the fact +that he quite spoilt the look of the family tree with his exotic +graft. For in the course of time his son, insularly known as +<i>Willatopy</i>, inherited the title and became twenty-eighth +(no less) <i>Baron of Topsham</i>. Mr. <span class="sc">Copplestone</span> does not +realise the vast difference between light comedy and broad +farce, but apart from this substantial reservation I can +vouch that his yarn of <i>Madame Gilbert's Cannibal</i> (<span class="sc">Murray</span>) +is deftly spun. Should you decide to follow the famous +<i>Madame Gilbert</i> when she visits the island where the +twenty-eighth baron lived you will witness a lively and +unusual entertainment.</p> + + <hr /> +<br /><br /> + +<table align="center" summary="note"> +<tr> + <td class="note"> +Transcriber's Note:<br /><br /> + +Page 355: "Ruined! the old place mortgaged! faugh!" [final single quote changed to double quote].<br /> +Page 356: "<i>They</i> always do that." [final single quote changed to double quote].<br /> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +159, November 3, 1920, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON *** + +***** This file should be named 17994-h.htm or 17994-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/9/9/17994/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Lesley Halamek and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://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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