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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:55:29 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:55:29 -0700 |
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diff --git a/19349-h/19349-h.htm b/19349-h/19349-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf994c4 --- /dev/null +++ b/19349-h/19349-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3462 @@ +<!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>Punch, November 17th, 1920.</title> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; +} +p { + text-align: justify; +} +p.center { + text-align: center; +} +p.center1 { + text-align: center; + line-height: 40%; +} + +p.left { + text-align: left; +} + +p.author { + margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 5%; text-align: right; +} +p.author1 { + margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 25%; text-align: right; +} + +.note { + font-size: 0.8em; + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 15%; +} + +p.indent { + text-indent: 1.5em; 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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 17, 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 17, 1920 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Owen Seaman + +Release Date: September 22, 2006 [EBook #19349] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Jonathan Ingram 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 17th, 1920.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page381" id="page381"></a>[pg 381]</span> +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p> +It is rumoured that a gentleman who +purchased a miniature two-seater car at +the Motor Show last week arrived home +one night to find the cat playing with +it on the mat.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +It appears that nothing definite has +yet been decided as to whether <i>The +Daily Mail</i> will publish a Continental +edition of the Sandringham Hat.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +The matter having passed out of the +hands of D.O.R.A., the Westminster +City Council recommend the abolition +of the practice of whistling for cabs at +night. Nothing is said about the custom +of making a noise like a five-shilling +tip.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +We shall not be surprised +if Mr. <span class="sc">Austen +Chamberlain</span> becomes +the Viceroy of India, +says a gossip-writer. +We warn our contemporary +against being +elated, for it is almost +certain that another +Chancellor of the Exchequer +would be appointed +in his place.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +During the Lord +Mayor's Show last week +we understand that the +<span class="sc">Lord Mayor's</span> coachman +was accompanied +by the <span class="sc">Lord Mayor</span>.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +The licensee of a West +Ham public-house has +just purchased a parrot +which is trained to imitate +the bagpipes. The bird's life will +of course be insured.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +Ireland will have to be careful or +she will be made safe for democracy, +like the other countries.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +Upon hearing that Mr. <span class="sc">William +Brace</span> had accepted a Government +appointment several members of the +Labour Party said that this only confirmed +their contention that his moustache +would get him into trouble +one day.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +Mrs. <span class="sc">Stackpool O'Dell</span> warns girls +against marrying a man whose head is +flat at the back. The best course is +to get one with a round head; after +marriage it can be flattened to taste.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +A man who persistently refused to +give any information about himself was +remanded at the Guildhall last week. +He is thought to be a British taxpayer +going about <i>incognito</i>.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +The cackle of a hen when she lays an +egg, says a scientist, is akin to laughter. +And with some of the eggs we have +met we can easily guess what the hen +was laughing at.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +The National Collection of Microbes +at the Lister Institute now contains +eight hundred different specimens. Visitors +are requested not to tease the +germs or go too near their cages.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +A large spot on the sun has been seen +by the meteorological experts at Greenwich +Observatory. We understand that +it will be allowed to remain.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +Mr. <span class="sc">Raymond Forsdik</span>, of Chicago, +states that twelve times more murders +are committed in Chicago than in +London. But, under Prohibition, Satan +is bound to find mischief for idle +hands.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +Canon F. J. Meyrick, of Norwich, is +reported to have caught a pike weighing +twenty-five pounds. In view of +the angler's profession we suppose we +must believe this one.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +A curate of Bedford Park has had +his bicycle stolen from the church, and +as there were a number of people in +the congregation it is difficult to know +whom to blame.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +"Shall Onkie Live?" asks a <i>Daily +Mail</i> headline. We don't know who +he is, but he certainly has our permission. +We cannot, however, answer for +Mr. <span class="sc">Bob Williams</span>.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +With reference to the complaint that +a City man made about his telephone, +we are pleased to say that a great improvement +is reported. The instrument +was taken away the other day.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +Discussing the remuneration of Cabinet +Ministers a contemporary doubts +whether they get what they deserve. +This only goes to prove that we are a +humane race.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +Hatters say that the price of rabbit +skins is likely to ruin the trade. Meanwhile +the mere act of getting the skins +is apt to ruin the rabbit.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +"Mine," says General <span class="sc">Townshend</span>, +"was a mission which <span class="sc">Napoleon</span> would +have refused." We +doubt, however, if Lord +<span class="sc">Northcliffe</span> is to be +drawn like that.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +Dr. <span class="sc">E. Halford Ross</span>, +of Piccadilly, is of the +opinion that coal contains +remarkable healing +powers. Quite a +number of people contemplate +buying some +of the stuff.</p> + + <hr class="short" /> +<p> +"What does milk usually +contain?" asks a +weekly paper. We can +only say it wouldn't be +fair for us to reply, as +we know the answer.</p> + + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/381.png"><img src="images/381-600.png" width="600" height="434" alt="I say, Dad, go slow. Remember who's got to wear it after you've finished with it." /></a> +<p><i>Small Boy at Tailor's (to father, who seems to be impressed with "Jazz" tweed</i>).</p> +<p>"<span class="sc">I say, Dad, go slow. Remember who's got to wear it after you've +finished with it</span>."</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + + + <hr /> + +<h4>An Indomitable Spirit.</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +"Mr. ——'s tank held +only —— Spirit during the +whole climb and not satisfied +with climbing <i>up</i> Snowdon<br /> +Mr. —— then drove down again."</p> +<p class="author"> +<i>Motoring Paper</i>. +</p></blockquote> + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p class="center"> +"<span class="sc">Why I didn't go to the Bar</span>.<br /> +By Horatio Bottomley."</p> +<p class="author"> +"<i>John Bull</i>" <i>Poster</i>. +</p></blockquote> +<p> +Perhaps it was after hours.</p> + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"This upset Mr. Chesterton, a patriotic, +beer-eating Englishman."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Sunday Paper</i>. +</p></blockquote> +<p> +We deplore the modern tendency to pry +into the details of an author's dietary.</p> + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"What the word 'Democracy' was intended +to mean was that every man should have +to betrTcOshrdluesthafaodfabadofgarfaf."</p> +<p class="author"> +<i>Local Paper</i>. +</p></blockquote> +<p> +We have long suspected this.</p> + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">Milwaukee</span>.—Fourteen cases of whiskey, +a large quantity of brandies, gin and wines +were found stored in a bathhouse. It will be +presented to the federal grand jury for action."</p> +<p class="author"> +<i>Canadian Paper</i>. +</p></blockquote> +<p> +Not the obvious form of "direct action," +we trust.</p> + + <hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page382" id="page382"></a>[pg 382]</span> + + +<h3>HOW TO VITALISE THE DRAMA.</h3> +<p class="center"><i>A hint of what might be done by following +the example of the Press</i>.</p> + +<blockquote class="note"><p> +["More than one actor-manager during the +past few months has been searching round +frantically in his efforts to find a new play."</p> +<p class="author"> +<i>The Times</i>.] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem1"> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, have you marked upon the breeze</p> + <p class="i2">The wail of hunger which occurs</p> + <p>When starved theatrical lessees</p> + <p class="i2">Commune with hollow managers?</p> + <p>"Where is Dramatic Art?" they say;</p> + <p>"Can no one, <i>no one</i>, write a play?"</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>I cannot think why this should be,</p> + <p class="i2">This bitter plaint of sudden dearth;</p> + <p>To write a play would seem to me</p> + <p class="i2">Almost the easiest thing on earth.</p> + <p>Sometimes I feel that even I</p> + <p>Could do it if I chose to try.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>What! can this Art be in its grave</p> + <p class="i2">Whose form was lately so rotund,</p> + <p>Whose strength was as a bull's and gave</p> + <p class="i2">No sign of being moribund?</p> + <p>I'm sure my facts are right, or how</p> + <p>Do you account for <i>Chu Chin Chow</i>?</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>As for the gods, their judgment shows</p> + <p class="i2">No loss of <i>flair</i> for grace or wit;</p> + <p>We see the comic's ruby nose</p> + <p class="i2">Reduce to pulp the nightly pit,</p> + <p>Whose patrons, sound in head and heart,</p> + <p>Still love the loftiest type of Art.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>Nor should the playwright fail for lack</p> + <p class="i2">Of matter, if with curious eyes</p> + <p>He follows in our Pressmen's track,</p> + <p class="i2">Who find the source of their supplies</p> + <p>In Life, that ever-flowing font,</p> + <p>And "give the public what they want."</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>If authors, moving with the times,</p> + <p class="i2">Would only feed us, like the Press,</p> + <p>On squalid "mysteries," ugly crimes,</p> + <p class="i2">Scandals and all that carrion mess,</p> + <p>I see no solid reason why</p> + <p>Dramatic Art should ever die.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i24">O. S.</p> +</div> +</div> + + <hr /> + +<h3>UNAUTHENTIC IMPRESSIONS.</h3> + +<h4>II.—<span class="sc">Mr. Winston Churchill</span>.</h4> +<p> +If it be urged that a few trifling inaccuracies +have crept into the sketch +which is here given of a great statesman's +personality I can only say, +"<i>Humanum est errare</i>," and "<i>Homo +sum: humani nihil alienum a me puto</i>." +These two Latin sentences, I find, invariably +soothe all angry passions; you +have only to try their effect the next +time you stamp on the foot of a stout +man when alighting from an Underground +train.</p> +<p> +Of all the present-day politicians, and +indeed there are not a few, upon whose +mantelpieces the bust of <span class="sc">Napoleon +Bonaparte</span> is displayed, Mr. <span class="sc">Winston +Churchill</span> is probably the most assiduous +worshipper at the great Corsican's +shrine. How often has he not entered +his sanctum at the War Office, peering +forward with that purposeful dominating +look on his face, and discovered a +few specks of dust upon his favourite +effigy. With a quick characteristic +motion of the thumb resembling a stab +he rings the bell. A flunkey instantly +appears. "Bust that dust," says the +<span class="sc">War Minister</span>. And then, correcting +himself instantly, with a genial smile, +"I should say, Dust that bust."</p> +<p> +But <span class="sc">Napoleon's</span> is not the only head +that adorns Mr. <span class="sc">Winston Churchill's</span> +room. On a bookshelf opposite is a +model of his own head, such as one +may sometimes see in the shop windows +of hatters, and close beside is a small +private hat-making plant, together with +an adequate supply of the hair of the +rabbit, the beaver, the vicuna and similar +rodents, and a quantity of shellac. Few +days pass in which the <span class="sc">War Minister</span> +does not spend an hour or two at his +charming hobby, for, contrary to the +general opinion, he is far from satisfied +with the headgear by which he is so +well known, or even with the Sandringham +hat of <i>The Daily Mail</i>, and lives +always in hopes of modelling the ideal +hat which is destined to immortalise +him and be worn by others for centuries +to come. The work of a great statesman +lives frequently in the mindful brain +of posterity, less frequently upon it.</p> +<p> +Other mementos which adorn this +remarkable room at the War Office are +a porcelain pot containing a preserve +of Blenheim oranges, a framed photograph +of the Free Trade Hall at Manchester, +a map of Mesopotamia with +the outpost lines and sentry groups of +the original Garden of Eden, marked by +paper flags, and a number of lion-skin +rugs of which the original occupants +were stalked and killed by their owner +on his famous African tour. In his +more playful moments the <span class="sc">War Minister</span> +has been known to clothe himself +completely in one of these skins +and growl ferociously from behind a +palm at an unwelcome intruder.</p> +<p> +Of the man himself perhaps the most +distinguishing characteristic is dynamic +energy. Whether other people's energy +is ever dynamic I do not know, but +undoubtedly Mr. <span class="sc">Winston Churchill's</span> +is; he dominates, he quells. He is like +one of those people in the papers with +zig-zags sticking out all over them +because they have been careful to wear +an electric belt. He exudes force. Sometimes +one can almost hear him crackle.</p> +<p> +As a politician it is true he has not +yet tried every office; he has not, for +instance, been Chancellor of the Exchequer, +though his unbounded success +in the Duchy of Lancaster amply shows +what his capabilities as a Chancellor +are. But as a soldier, a pig-sticker and +a polo-player he is rapidly gaining pre-eminence, +and as an author and journalist +his voice is already like a swan's +amongst screech-owls. (I admit that +that last bit ought to have been in Latin, +but I cannot remember what the Latin +for a screech-owl is. I have an idea that +it increases in the genitive, but quite +possibly I may be thinking of dormice.)</p> +<p> +Anyhow, to return to Mr. <span class="sc">Churchill's</span> +room: whilst the floor is littered with +volumes that have been sent to him for +review, his desk is equally littered with +proofs of essays, sermons, leaders and +leaderettes for the secular and Sunday +Press. As a novelist he has scarcely +fulfilled his early promise, but it is on +record that he was once introduced to +a stranger from the backwoods, who +asked ignorantly, "Am I speaking to +the statesman or the author?"</p> +<p> +"Not <i>or</i>, but <i>and</i>," replied the <span class="sc">Secretary +of State for War</span>, with a simple +dignity like that of <span class="sc">St. Augustine</span>.</p> +<p> +To poetry he is not greatly attached, +preferring to leave this field of letters +to his staff. When asked for his +favourite passage of English verse he +has indeed been known to cite a single +line from Mr. <span class="sc">Hilaire Belloc's</span> <i>Modern +Traveller</i>—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"That marsh, that admirable marsh!"</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +which is far from being Mr. <span class="sc">Belloc's</span> +most mellifluous effort.</p> +<p> +We feel bound to ask what is most +likely to be the next outlet for Mr. +<span class="sc">Churchill's</span> ebullient activity. Remembering +that bust upon his mantelpiece +it is hard to say. There are some +who consider that, prevented by the +sluggishness of our times from the +chance of commanding an army in the +field, he may turn his strategic mind +at last to the position of Postmaster-General. +If he does there can be no +man better fitted than he to make our +telephones hum.</p> +<p class="author"> +K.</p> + + <hr /> +<blockquote><p> +"A.—Comme vous voudrai.—P."</p> +<p class="author"> +<i>Agony Column in Daily Paper</i>. +</p></blockquote> +<p> +Taking advantage of "P.'s" kindness +we may say that we prefer "<i>voudrez</i>."</p> + + <hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">A True Fishing Story</span>. + +Lady —— is surprising everyone with her +skill as an angler and a shot. Last Friday, I +am told, she caught two trout weighing 2¾ lb. +and 3¼ lb. And on the same afternoon she got +a right and a left hit at a roebuck with a small +four-bore gun!"</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Daily Paper</i>. +</p></blockquote> +<p> +Not caring to believe that she mistook +a roebuck for an elephant, we are glad +to note that the epithet "true" is only +applied to the "fishing" part of the +story.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page383" id="page383"></a>[pg 383]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<a href="images/383.png"><img src="images/383-375.png" width="375" height="450" alt="THE ABYSMALISTS." /></a> +<h4>THE ABYSMALISTS.</h4> +<p><span class="sc">British Extremist.</span> "WHAT ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE?"</p> +<p><span class="sc">Voice of Russian Bolshevist from below.</span> "DIGGING A GRAVE FOR THE BOURGEOISIE."</p> +<p><span class="sc">British Extremist.</span> "THAT'S WHAT I WANT TO DO; BUT HOW DO YOU GET OUT?"</p> +<p><span class="sc">Voice from below.</span> "YOU DON'T."</p> +</div><br /><br /> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page384" id="page384"></a>[pg 384]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/384.png"><img src="images/384-600.png" width="600" height="413" alt="Well, scarcely, Madam; shall we say 'soi-disant'" /></a> +<p><i>French Visitor (inspecting artificial silk stockings).</i> "<span class="sc">Soie</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Shopman (formerly of the B.E.F., resourcefully).</i> "<span class="sc">Well, scarcely, Madam; shall we say 'soi-disant'</span>?"</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + <hr /> + +<h3>CONTEMPORARY FOLK-SONGS.</h3> + +<h4><span class="sc">"The Grave of the Boorzh-waw-ze"</span>.</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +[The following folk-song is believed to be a +local (and adult) version of the ballad which, +according to <i>The Times</i>, is now being sung by +Communist children in the Glasgow Proletarian +Schools, with the refrain:— +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem1"> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>"Class-conscious we are singing,</p> + <p class="i2">Class-conscious all are we,</p> + <p>For Labour now is digging</p> + <p class="i2">The grave of the Boorzh-waw-ze."</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +The metre is a bit jumpy, and so are the ideas, +but you know what folk-songs are.]</p> + +<div class="poem1"> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>Look, we are digging a large round hole,</p> + <p class="i2"><i>With a Hey and a Ho and a Hee-haw-hee!</i></p> + <p>To put the abominable tyrant in—</p> + <p>The Minister, the Master, the Mandarin;</p> + <p>And never a bloom above shall blow</p> + <p>But scarlet-runners in a row to show</p> + <p class="i2"><i>That this is the grave of the Boorzh-waw-ze,</i></p> + <p class="i4"><i>With a Hi-ti-tiddle-i! ... Honk, honk!</i></p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>Who do we put in the large round hole,</p> + <p class="i2"><i>With a Hey and a Ho and a Hee-haw-hee?</i></p> + <p>The blackcoat, the parasite, the keeper of the laws,</p> + <p>Who works with his head instead of with his paws;</p> + <p>The doctor, the parson, the pressman, the mayor,</p> + <p>The poet and the barrister, they'll all be there,</p> + <p><i>Snug in the grave of the Boorzh-waw-ze,</i></p> + <p class="i4"><i>With a Hi-ti-tiddle-i! ... Honk, honk!</i></p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>Dig, dig, dig, it will have to be big,</p> + <p class="i2"><i>With a Hey and a Ho and a Hee-haw-hee!</i></p> + <p>One great cavity, and then one more</p> + <p>For the bones of the <span class="sc">Secret'ry of State for War</span>;</p> + <p>The editor, the clerk and, of course, old <span class="sc">Thomas</span>,</p> + <p>We wring their necks and we fling them from us</p> + <p class="i2"><i>Into the grave of the Boorzh-waw-ze,</i></p> + <p class="i4"><i>With a Hi-ti-tiddle-i! ... Honk, honk!</i></p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>Peace and Brotherhood, that's our line,</p> + <p class="i2"><i>With a Hey and a Ho and a Hee-haw-hee!</i></p> + <p>But nobody, of course, can co-exist</p> + <p>In the same small planet with a Communist;</p> + <p>Man is a brotherhood, that we know,</p> + <p>And the whole damn family has got to go</p> + <p class="i2"><i>Plomp in the grave of the Boorzh-waw-ze,</i></p> + <p class="i4"><i>With a Hi-ti-tiddle-i! ... Honk, honk!</i></p></div> +<div class="stanza"> + <p>Too many people are alive to-day,</p> + <p class="i2"><i>With a Hey and a Ho and a Hee-haw-hee!</i></p> + <p>Red already is the Red, Red Sea</p> + <p>With the blood of the brutal Boorzh-waw-ze,</p> + <p>And that's what the rest of the globe will be—</p> + <p class="i8"><i>Believe me!</i></p> + <p>We'll stand at last with the Red Flag furled<sup>*</sup></p> + <p>In a perfectly void vermilion world</p> + <p>With the citizens (if any) who have <i>not</i> been hurled</p> + <p class="i2"><i>Into the grave of the Boorzh-waw-ze,</i></p> + <p class="i4"><i>With a Hi-ti-tiddle-i ... Honk, honk!</i></p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i24">A. P. H.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="note"> +<sup>*</sup><span class="sc">Note.</span>—In the Somerset version the word +is "<i>un</i>furled," which makes better sense but +scans even worse than the rest of the song. +I have therefore followed the Gloucestershire +tradition.</p> + + <hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page385" id="page385"></a>[pg 385]</span> + +<h3>SOURCES OF LAUGHTER.</h3> +<p> +"It will have to be a great deal +funnier than that before it's funny," +said George.</p> +<p> +This represented the general opinion, +though Edna, who has a good heart, +professed to find it diverting already. +Unfortunately she has no sense of +humour.</p> +<p> +Jerry, the writer, claimed exemption +on the ground of being the writer, +though he did not see why his article +should not remove gravity (as they say +in <i>The Wallet of Kai Lung</i>) from other +people quite as effectually as the silly +tosh of A. and B. and C., naming some +brilliant and successful humorists.</p> +<p> +The company then resolved itself into +a Voluntary Aid Detachment.</p> +<p> +When they met again at tea Edna +made the suggestion of a sprinkling of +puns.</p> +<p> +"We've got rather beyond that, I +think," said the victim with dignity.</p> +<p> +"I'm not so sure," said George +cruelly, "that you can afford to neglect +any means. Some people laugh at them +even now, in this twentieth century, +in this beautiful England of ours."</p> +<p> +"And I can tell you why," broke in +Raymond eagerly. He took from his +pocket a well-known Manual of Psychology +and whirled over the pages.</p> +<p> +"Meanwhile," said George learnedly, +"<span class="sc">Bergson</span> may be of some assistance +to you. He knows all about laughter. +He analysed it."</p> +<p> +"Why couldn't he leave it alone?" +said Allegra uneasily.</p> +<p> +"He defines laughter," said George, +"as 'a kind of social gesture.'"</p> +<p> +"It isn't," said Allegra rashly. "At +least," she added, "that sort of thing +isn't going to help Jerry. Do give it +up."</p> +<p> +"Well, then, here's something more +practical," said George. "Listen. 'A +situation is always comical when it +belongs at one and the same time to +two series of absolutely independent +events, and can at the same time be +interpreted in two different ways.'"</p> +<p> +"I should think," said Edna brightly, +"that might be very amusing."</p> +<p> +She remarked later that it made it +all seem very clear, but even she showed +signs of relief when Raymond interrupted, +having found his place.</p> +<p> +"Here we are!" he exclaimed. "The +book says that the reason a pun +amuses you——"</p> +<p> +"It doesn't amuse me," said most of +the company.</p> +<p> +"But it does—it must amuse you. +It's all down here in black and white. +Listen. The reason a pun amuses you +is as follows: 'It impels the mind +to identify objects quite disconnected. +This obstructs the flow of thought; +but this is too transient to give rise to +pain, and the relief which comes with +insight into the true state of the case +may be a source of keen pleasure. +Mental activity suddenly obstructed +and so heightened is at once set free, +and is so much greater than the occasion +demands that——'"</p> +<p> +"And is that why we laugh at +things?" said Allegra sadly.</p> +<p> +The heavy silence which followed +was broken by the voice of Mrs. Purkis, +the charlady, who "comes in to oblige," +and was now taking a short cut to the +front gate, under Cook's escort, by way +of the parsley bed. This brought her +within earshot of the party, who were +taking tea on the lawn.</p> +<p> +When Mrs. Purkis could contain her +mirth so as to make herself understood, +her words were these: "I dunno why, +but when I see 'im stand like that, +staring like a stuck pig, I thought I'd +died a-larf'n. I dunno why, but it +made me <i>larf</i>——"</p> +<p> +She passed, like <i>Pippa</i>.</p> +<p> +"Listen to her," said Allegra in bitter +envy. "<i>She doesn't know why.</i>"</p> +<p> +And Allegra burst into tears.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/385.png"><img src="images/385-322.png" width="322" height="450" alt="An hour of ut now will do more good in five minutes than a month of ut would do in a week at anny other time." /></a> +<p><i>The Fisherman.</i> "<span class="sc">I suppose this rain will do a lot of good, Pat</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Pat.</i> "<span class="sc">Ye may well say that, Sorr. An hour of ut now will do more good +in five minutes than a month of ut would do in a week at anny other time</span>."</p> +</div><br /> + +<hr /> + +<h4>What's in a Name?</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +"'A Recital' will be given by Miss H. E. +Stutter (the well-known Elocutionist)."</p> +<p class="author"> +<i>Local Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page386" id="page386"></a>[pg 386]</span> + +<h3>AT THE BLOATER SHOW.</h3> +<p> +The last time I was at Olympia—as +everybody says at the door—it was +a Horse Show. But this time it is much +the same. There they stand in their +stalls, the dear, magnificent, patient +creatures, with their glossy coats and +their beautiful curves, their sensitive +radiators sniffing for something over +the velvet ropes. Panting, I know they +are, to be out in the open again; and +yet I fancy they enjoy it all in a way. +It would be ungrateful if they did not; +for, after all, the whole thing has been +arranged for them. The whole idea of +the Show is to let the motors inspect the +bloaters—and not what you think. (You +don't know what bloaters are? Well, +I can't explain without being rude.)</p> +<p> +All the year round they can study <i>ad +nauseam</i> their own individual bloaters; +but this is the only occasion on which +they have the whole world of bloaters +paraded in front of them for inspection. +Now only can they compare notes and +exchange grievances.</p> +<p> +And how closely they study the +parade! Here is a pretty limousine, a +blonde; see how she watches the two +huge exhibits in front of her. They +are very new bloaters, and one of them—oh, +horror!—one of them is going to +buy. He has never bought before; she +knows his sort. He will drive her to +death; he may even drive her himself; +he will stroke her lovely coat in a familiar, +proprietary fashion; he will show +her off unceasingly to other bloaters till +she is hot all over and the water boils in +her radiator. He will hold forth with +a horrible intimacy and a yet more +horrible ignorance on the most private +secrets of her inner life. Not one +throb of her young cylinders will be +sacred, yet never will he understand +her as she would like to be understood. +He will mess her with his muddy boots; +he will scratch her paint; he will drop +tobacco-ash all over her cushions—not +from pipes; cigars only....</p> +<p> +There—he has bought her. It is a +tragedy. Let us move on.</p> +<p> +Here is a little <i>coupé</i>—a smart young +creature with a nice blue coat, fond of +town, I should say, but quite at home +in the country. She also is inspecting +two bloaters. But these two are very +shy. In fact they are not really bloaters +at all; they are rather a pair of nice-mannered +fresh herrings, not long mated. +The male had something to do with that +war, I should think; the <i>coupé</i> would +help him a good deal. The lady likes +her because she is dark-blue. The other +one likes her because of something to +do with her works; but he is very +reverent and tactful about it. He seems +to know that he is being scrutinised, +for he is nervous, and scarcely dares to +speak about her to the groom in the +top-hat. He will drive her himself; he +will look after her himself; he will +know all about her, all about her moods +and fancies and secret failings; he will +humour and coax her, and she will +serve him very nobly.</p> +<p> +Already, you see, they have given her +a name—"Jane," I think they said; +they will creep off into the country +with her when the summer comes, all +by themselves; they will plunge into +the middle of thick forests and sit down +happily in the shade at midday and +look at her; and she will love them.</p> +<p> +But the question is——Ah, they +are shaking their heads; they are edging +away. She is too much. They look back +sadly as they go. Another tragedy....</p> +<p> +Now I am going to be a bloater myself. +Here is a jolly one, though her +stable-name is much too long. She is +a Saloon-de-Luxe, and she only costs +£2,125 (why 5, I wonder—why not +6?) I can run to that, <i>surely</i>. At +any rate I can climb up and sit down +on her cushions; none of the grooms is +looking. Dark-blue, I see, like Jane. +That is the sort of car I love. I am +like the lady herring; I don't approve +of all this talk about the <i>insides</i> of +things; it seems to me to be rather +indecent—unless, of course, you do it +very nicely, like that young herring. +When you go and look at a horse you +don't ask how its sweetbread is arranged, +or what is the principle of its liver. +Then why should you...?</p> +<p> +Well, here we are, and very comfortable +too. But why does none of these +cars have any means of communication +between the owner and the man next to +the chauffeur? There is always a telephone +to the chauffeur, but none to +the overflow guest on the box. So that +when the host sees an old manor-house +which he thinks the guest hasn't noticed +he has to hammer on the glass +and do semaphore; and the guest thinks +he is being asked if he is warm enough.</p> +<p> +Otherwise, though, this is a nice car. +It is very cosy in here. Dark and quiet +and warm. I could go to sleep in here.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p> +What? What's that? No, I don't +really want to buy it, thank you. I +just wanted to see if it was a good +sleeping-car. As a matter of fact I +think it is. But I don't like the colour. +And what I really want is a <i>cabriolet</i>. +Good afternoon. Thank you....</p> +<p> +A pleasant gentleman, that. I wish +I could have bought the Saloon. She +would have liked me. So would he, I +expect.</p> +<p> +Well, we had better go home. I +shan't buy any more cars to-day. And +we won't go up to the gallery; there is +nothing but oleo-plugs and graphite-grease +up there. That sort of thing +spoils the romance.</p> +<p> +Ah, here is dear Jane again! What +a pity it was—— Hallo, they have +come back—the two nice herrings. +They are bargaining—they are beating +him down. No, he is beating them up. +Go on—go on. Yes, you can run to +that—<i>of course</i> you can. Sell those oil +shares. Look at her—<i>look</i> at her! You +can't leave her here for one of the +bloaters. He wavers; he consults. +"Such a lovely colour." Ah, that's +done it! He has decided. He has +bought. She has bought. They have +bought. Hurrah!</p> + +<p class="author"> +A. P. H.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h4>THE PREMIER'S METAPHORS.</h4> +<p> +Some time ago the <span class="sc">Premier</span> beheld +the sunrise upon the mountains, and +now he has plunged his thermometer +into the lava to discover that the stream +is cooling—indicating comfort, let us +hope, to any who may be buried beneath +it. Only by an oversight, we understand, +did he omit to mention in his +speech at the Guildhall that the chamois +is once more browsing happily among +the blooming edelweiss.</p> +<p> +But in continuing his lofty metaphors +Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span> will find himself +confronted by no small difficulty when +dealing with the glacier. What can he +say that the glacier is doing? It must +do something. A glacier is of no rhetorical +value if it merely stays where it +is. One may take in hand the ice-axe +of resolution and the alpenstock of enterprise +and pull over one's boots the +socks of Coalition, but the glacier remains +practically unchanged by these +preparations. It would be of little use +to declare that its uneven surface is +being levelled by the steam-roller of +progress and its crevasses filled in by +the cement of human kindness, because +the Opposition Press would soon get +scientists, engineers and statisticians to +establish the absurdity of such a claim. +And to announce that the glacier is +getting warmer would create no end of +a panic among the homesteads in the +valley. Unless he is very, very careful +Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span> may make a grave +slip in negotiating the glacier.</p> +<p> +Then the "awful avalanche" has not +yet been dealt with. A few helpful +words on the direction this is likely to +take and the safest rock to make for +when it begins to move might be welcomed +by the <span class="sc">Premier's</span> followers. He +may argue that it is folly to meet trouble +half-way, but on the other hand, if +he does not speak on this subject soon, +the opportunity may disappear. Let +him avoid the glacier if he chooses; he +cannot (so we are informed) escape the +avalanche.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page387" id="page387"></a>[pg 387]</span> + +<h4>TREATING UNDER PROHIBITION.</h4> + +<table width="90%" align="center" summary="cartoon"> +<tr> + <td class="left" width="50%"> + <div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/387.png"><img src="images/387-1-300.png" width="300" height="207" alt="Hello, old fright - Haven't seen you for ages!" /></a> +<p>"<span class="sc">Hello, old fright—Haven't seen you for ages</span>!"</p> +</div> + </td> + <td width="50%"> + <div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/387.png"><img src="images/387-2-300.png" width="300" height="207" alt="We must have one." /></a> +<p class="center">"<span class="sc">We must have one</span>."</p> +</div> + </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<table width="90%" align="center" summary="cartoon"> +<tr> + <td class="left" width="50%"> + <div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/387.png"><img src="images/387-3-300.png" width="300" height="243" alt="What's yours?" /></a> +<p class="center">"<span class="sc">What's yours</span>?" + </p> +<p class="center">"<span class="sc">Think I'll have a collar</span>." </p> +</div> + </td> + <td class="left" width="50%"> + <div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/387.png"><img src="images/387-4-300.png" width="300" height="243" alt="Cheerio!" /></a> +<p>"<span class="sc">Two collars, please—seventeens</span>."</p> +<p>"<span class="sc">Cheerio</span>!"</p> +</div> + </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<table width="90%" align="center" summary="cartoon"> +<tr> + <td class="left" width="33%"> + <div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/387.png"><img src="images/387-5-200.png" width="200" height="273" alt="Well, perhaps a soft one this time." /></a> +<p>"<span class="sc">Now you must have one with me. What about an evening shirt</span>?"</p> +<p>"<span class="sc">No, no, it's too early</span>."</p> +<p>"<span class="sc">The same again, then</span>?"</p> +<p>"<span class="sc">Well, perhaps a soft one this time</span>."</p> +</div> + </td> + <td class="left" width="33%"> + <div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/387.png"><img src="images/387-6-200.png" width="200" height="273" alt="Same again, please - only soft." /></a> +<p>"<span class="sc">Same again, please—only soft</span>."</p> +</div> + </td> + <td class="left" width="33%"> + <div class="figcenter"> +<a href="images/387.png"><img src="images/387-7-200.png" width="200" height="273" alt="Bye-bye! See you again soon." /></a> +<p>"<span class="sc">Bye-bye! See you again soon</span>."</p> +</div> + </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page388" id="page388"></a>[pg 388]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/388.png"><img src="images/388-600.png" width="600" height="430" alt="Well, you see, I'm not a beesness man." /></a> +<p><i>Magistrate.</i> "<span class="sc">But, Mr. Goldstein, why do you have your house and +your business in your wife's name</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Mr. Goldstein.</i> "<span class="sc">Well, you see, I'm not a beesness man</span>."</p> +</div><br /><br /> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE SAYINGS OF BARBARA.</h3> +<p> +The man who sets out to expose +popular fallacies or to confound time-honoured +legends is bound to make +enemies.</p> +<p> +The latest legend I have been privileged +to explore is not the product +of superstition and slow time, but a +deliberately manufactured growth of +comparatively recent origin. It is concerned +with Barbara, not the impersonal +lady who figures in the old logic-book +doggerel, but an extremely live and +highly illogical person to whom for +half a decade I have had the honour to +be father. It is also concerned with +Barbara's Aunt Julia and, in a lesser +degree, with Barbara's mother.</p> +<p> +From the time (just +over three years ago) +when Barbara first attempted +articulate +speech I have been +bombarded with reports +of the wonderful things +my daughter has said. +In the earlier years +these diverting stories, +for which Julia was +nearly always cited as +authority, reached me +through the medium of +the Field Post-Office, +and, being still fairly +new to fatherhood, I +used proudly to retail +them in Mess, until an +addition was made to +the rule relating to offences +punishable by a +round of drinks.</p> +<p> +On my brief visits +home I would wait expectantly +for the brilliant +flashes of humour or of uncanny +intelligence to issue from Barbara's lips, +and her failure during these periods to +sustain her reputation I was content to +explain on the assumption that I came +within the category of casual visitors. +But I have now lived in my own home +for over a year, and Barbara and I have +become very well acquainted. She talks +to me without restraint, and at times +most engagingly, but seldom, if ever, +does she give utterance in my hearing to +a <i>jeu d'esprit</i> that I feel called upon to +repeat to others. Nevertheless until a +few days ago I was still constantly being +informed—chiefly by Barbara's aunt +and less frequently by her mother—of +the "killing" things that child had been +saying. I grew privately sceptical, but +had no proof, and it was only by accident +that I was at last enabled to prick +the bubble.</p> +<p> +Julia (who besides being Barbara's +aunt is Suzanne's sister) had come to +tea and was chatting in the drawing-room +with Suzanne (who besides being +Julia's sister is Barbara's mother and +my wife) and Barbara (whose relationship +all round has been sufficiently +indicated). The drawing-room door was +open, and so was that of my study on +the opposite side of the passage, where +I was coquetting with a trifle of work. +The conversation, which I could not +help overhearing, was confined for the +most part to Julia and Barbara, and ran +more or less on the following lines:—</p> +<p> +<i>Julia.</i> Where's Father, Babs?</p> +<p> +<i>Barbara.</i> In the libery.</p> +<p> +<i>Julia.</i> Working hard, I suppose?</p> +<p> +<i>Barbara.</i> Yes.</p> +<p> +<i>Julia.</i> Or do you think he's sleeping? +(<i>No answer.</i>) Don't you think +father's probably asleep half the time +he's supposed to be working?</p> +<p> +<i>Barbara.</i> Probly. What you got in +that bag?</p> +<p> +<i>Julia.</i> I expect that big armchair he +sits in is just a weeny bit too comfy for +real work.</p> +<p> +<i>Barbara.</i> I've eated up all those +choc'lates you did bring me.</p> +<p> +<i>Julia.</i> Perhaps we'll find some more +presently. Do you think Father writes +in his sleep?</p> +<p> +<i>Barbara.</i> Yes, I fink he does.</p> +<p> +<i>Julia.</i> Listen to her, Suzie. I expect +really he only dreams he's working. +Don't you, Babs?</p> +<p> +At this point I thought it advisable, +for the sake of preserving the remnants +of my parental authority, to come in to +tea. Julia was handing Barbara a +packet of chocolate, and greeted me +with an arch inquiry as to whether I +had been busy writing. I replied with +a hearty affirmative.</p> +<p> +"You ought to hear what your +daughter has been saying about you," +said Julia.</p> +<p> +"Oh, and what does Barbara say?" +I asked.</p> +<p> +"She says that when Father sits in +that stuffy little room of his he usually +writes in his sleep. She really does +take the most amazing notice of things, +and the way she expresses herself is +quite weird."</p> +<p> +"So Barbara says I write in my +sleep?"</p> +<p> +"Yes, you heard her, didn't you, +Suzie? Oh, and did I tell you that the +other day, during that heavy thunderstorm, +she said that the angels and the +devils must be having a big battle and +that she supposed the angels would +soon be going over the +top?"</p> +<p> +"Come here, Barbara," +I said.</p> +<p> +Barbara, who at her +too fond aunt's request +had been granted the +privilege of taking tea +in the drawing-room, +stuffed the better half of +a jam sandwich into her +mouth and came.</p> +<p> +"Do you see those +rich-looking pink +cakes?" I asked her. +"You shall have one as +soon as we've had a +little talk."</p> +<p> +"The biggest and +pinkiest one?" demanded +Barbara.</p> +<p> +"Yes. Now tell me—don't +you think that +people ought always to +speak the truth, and to +be especially careful not +to distort the remarks of others?"</p> +<p> +"Yes. Can I have the one with the +greeny thing on it?"</p> +<p> +"Certainly, in a minute. And don't +you think that women are much more +careless of the truth than men?"</p> +<p> +"Yes. Can I——"</p> +<p> +"Do you love your Aunt Julia?"</p> +<p> +"Yes."</p> +<p> +"Why?"</p> +<p> +"Cos she always has got choc'lates +in her bag."</p> +<p> +"But don't you think it's much +more important to have the truth in +your heart than chocolates in your +bag?"</p> +<p> +"Yes. Now can I have my pink +cake?"</p> +<p> +I released and rewarded her, and +Julia prepared to speak her mind. +Fortunately, however, just at that +moment my brother Tom, who is +Barbara's godfather, came in.</p> +<p> +"Why, what a big girl we're getting!" <span class="pagenum"><a name="page389" id="page389"></a>[pg 389]</span> +he observed to Barbara in his +best godfatherly manner. "I suppose +we shall soon be going to school?"</p> +<p> +"Oh, no, not yet awhile," I interposed. +"The fact is she's already far +too forward, and we think it a good +thing to keep her back a bit. You'd +never believe the amazing remarks she +makes. Just now, for instance, we +happened to be discussing the comparative +love of truth inherent in men +and women, and Barbara chipped in +and told me she thought women were +far more careless of the truth than +men."</p> +<p> +"Good heavens!" said Tom, who is +a bachelor by conviction. "She certainly +hit the nail on the head there."</p> +<p> +"Yes, and she added that she herself +prized truth above chocolates."</p> +<p> +"It sounds almost incredible," gasped +Tom.</p> +<p> +"Doesn't it? But ask Julia; she +heard it all. And Julia will also tell +you what Barbara remarked about my +work."</p> +<p> +But Julia, who was already gathering +her furs about her, followed up an +unusual silence by a sudden departure.</p> +<p> +From what Suzanne has since refrained +from saying I am confident that +I've broken the back of one more +legend, and saved Barbara from the +fate of having to pass the rest of her +childhood living up (or down) to a +spurious halo of precocity.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/389.png"><img src="images/389-590.png" width="590" height="449" alt="AN INCENTIVE TO VIRTUE." /></a> +<h4>AN INCENTIVE TO VIRTUE.</h4> +<p><i>Small Boy (much impressed).</i> "<span class="sc">The ticket-collector said 'Good evening' to dad</span>."</p> +<p><i>Mother.</i> "<span class="sc">Yes, dear, he always does. And perhaps, if you're good, he'll say the same to you—when you've +travelled on this line for twenty-five years</span>."</p> +</div><br /><br /> + +<hr /> + +<h4>Another Impending Apology.</h4> + +<blockquote><p> + "<span class="sc">Departure of the Lieut.-Governor. + Enthusiastic Scenes</span>."</p> +<p class="author"> + <i>Channel Islands Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Indeed, it is simple to understand why the +Canadian portion of the audience almost rise +from their seats when Fergus Wimbus, the +'Man,' says, 'Canada is the land of big things, +big thoughts, bing hopes."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Provincial Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +Not forgetting the "Byng Boys" either.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>MUSICAL CARETAKERS.</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +["A <span class="sc">lady</span> is willing to give a thoroughly-good +<span class="sc">Home</span> to a <span class="sc">Grand Piano</span> (German make +preferred), also a <span class="sc">Cottage</span>, for anyone going +abroad."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Morning Paper.</i>] +</p></blockquote> +<p> +A <span class="sc">Gramophone</span> of small to medium +age can be received as p.g. in select <span class="sc">Residential +Hotel</span>. Young, bright, musical +society. Separate tables.</p> + +<hr /> +<p> +<span class="sc">Will</span> any <span class="sc">Lady</span> or <span class="sc">Gentleman</span> offer +hospitality on the Cornish Riviera for +the winter months to an <span class="sc">ex-service +Cornet</span> suffering from chronic asthma (slight)?</p> + +<hr /> +<p> +<span class="sc">Bag-pipes</span> (sisters) in reduced circumstances +owing to the War, seek sit. as +<span class="sc">Companions</span> or <span class="sc">Mother's Helps</span>, town +or country.</p> + +<hr /> +<p> +From a list of forthcoming productions:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">Theatre Royal</span>, ——. Boo Early." +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page390" id="page390"></a>[pg 390]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/390.png"><img src="images/390-600.png" width="600" height="422" alt="And how is your dear mother, to-day>" /></a> +<p><i>Old Lady.</i> "<span class="sc">And how is your dear mother, to-day</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Child of the Period.</i> "<span class="sc">Oh, she's rotten</span>."</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + <hr /> + +<h3>YARNS.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When the docks are all deserted and the derricks all are still,</p> +<p>And the wind across the anchorage comes singing sad and shrill,</p> +<p>And the lighted lanthorns gleaming where the ships at anchor ride</p> +<p>Cast their quivering long reflections down the ripple of the tide,</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then the ships they start a-yarning, just the same as sailors do</p> +<p>In a hundred docks and harbours from Port Talbot to Chefoo,</p> +<p>Just the same as deep-sea sailormen a-meeting up and down</p> +<p>In the bars and boarding-houses and the streets of Sailor-town.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Just the same old sort of ship-talk sailors always like to hear—</p> +<p>Just the same old harbour gossip gathered in from far and near,</p> +<p>In the same salt-water lingo sailors use the wide world round,</p> +<p>From the shores of London river to the wharves of Puget Sound,</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>With a gruff and knowing chuckle at a spicy yarn or so,</p> +<p>And a sigh for some old shipmate gone the way that all men go,</p> +<p>And there's little need to wonder at a grumble now and then,</p> +<p>For the ships must have their growl out, just the same as sailormen.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And they yarn along together just as jolly as you please,</p> +<p>Lordly liner, dingy freighter rusty-red from all the seas,</p> +<p>Of their cargoes and their charters and their harbours East and West,</p> +<p>And the coal-hulk at her moorings, she is yarning with the best,</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Telling all the same tales over many and many a time she's told,</p> +<p>In a voice that's something creaky now because she's got so old,</p> +<p>Like some old broken sailorman when drink has loosed his tongue</p> +<p>And his ancient heart keeps turning to the days when he was young.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Is it but the chuckling mutter of the tide along the buoys,</p> +<p>But the creak of straining cables, but the night wind's mournful noise,</p> +<p>Sighing with a rising murmur in among the ropes and spars,</p> +<p>Setting every shroud and backstay singing shanties to the stars?</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>No, the ships they all are yarning, just the same as sailors do,</p> +<p>Just the same as deep-sea sailors from Port Talbot to Chefoo,</p> +<p>Yarning through the hours of darkness till the daylight comes again,</p> +<p>But oh! the things they speak of no one knows but sailormen.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i40">C. F. S.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page391" id="page391"></a>[pg 391]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<a href="images/391.png"><img src="images/391-372.png" width="372" height="450" alt="WORTH A TRIAL." /></a> +<h4>WORTH A TRIAL.</h4> +<p><span class="sc">Ulsterman</span>. "HERE COMES A GIFT-HORSE FOR THE TWO OF US. WE'D BEST NOT +LOOK HIM TOO CLOSE IN THE MOUTH."</p> +<p><span class="sc">Southern Irishman</span>. "I'LL NOT LOOK AT HIM AT ALL."</p> +<p><span class="sc">Ulsterman</span>. "OH, YOU'LL THINK MORE OF HIM WHEN YOU SEE THE WAY HE +MOVES WITH ME ON HIS BACK."</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + <hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page393" id="page393"></a>[pg 393]</span> + +<h3>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h3> +<p> +<i>Monday, November 8th.</i>—To allay +the apprehensions of Sir <span class="sc">John Rees</span> +the <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> informed him that +the League of Nations can do nothing +except by a unanimous decision +of the Council. As the +League already includes thirty-seven +nations, it is not expected +that its decisions will +be hastily reached. Now, perhaps, +the United States may +think better of its refusal to +join a body which has secured +the allegiance of Liberia and of +all the American Republics +save Mexico.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 220px;"> +<a href="images/393-1.png"><img src="images/393-1-200.png" width="200" height="280" alt="OBERLEUTNANT KENNWÜRDIG INSPECTS THE REICHSTAG" /></a> +<h5>OBERLEUTNANT KENNWÜRDIG INSPECTS THE REICHSTAG</h5> +<p class="left">(<span class="sc">in the imagination of General Croft</span>).</p> +</div> + +<p> +The daily demand for an +impartial inquiry into Irish +"reprisals" met with its daily +refusal. The <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> +referred to "unfortunate incidents +that always happen in +war"—the first time that he +has used this word to describe +the situation in Ireland—and +was confident that the sufferers +were, with few exceptions (Mr. +<span class="sc">Devlin</span>, who complained that +his office had been raided, being +one of them), "men engaged in a murderous +conspiracy." He declined to hamper +the authorities who were putting +it down. Taking his cue from his chief, +Sir <span class="sc">Hamar Greenwood</span> excused his lack +of information about recent occurrences +with the remark that "an officer cannot +draw up reports while he is chasing assassins." +Tragedy gave way to comedy +when Lieutenant-Commander <span class="sc">Kenworthy</span> +observed that the proceedings +were "just like the German Reichstag +during the War." "Were you there?" +smartly interjected General <span class="sc">Croft</span>.</p> + +<p> +The Government of Ireland Bill having +been recommitted, Sir <span class="sc">Worthington +Evans</span> explained the Government's +expedient for providing the new Irish +Parliaments with Second Chambers. +Frankly admitting that the Cabinet had +been unable to evolve a workable scheme—an +elected Senate would fail to protect +the minority and a nominated +Senate would be "undemocratic"—he +proposed that the Council of Ireland +should be entrusted with the task.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"> +<a href="images/393-2.png"><img src="images/393-2-300.png" width="300" height="264" alt="TWO BY TWO." /></a> +<h4>"TWO BY TWO."</h4> +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Sir E. Carson and Mr. Devlin</span>.</p> +</div> +<p> +Having regard to the probable composition +of the Council—half Sinn +Feiners and half Orangemen—Colonel +<span class="sc">Guinness</span> feared there was no chance +of its agreeing unless most of them +were laid up with broken heads or some +other malady. Sir <span class="sc">Edward Carson</span>, +however, in an unusually optimistic +vein, expressed the hope that once +the North was assured of not being +put under the South and the South was +relieved of British dictation they would +"shake hands for the good of Ireland." +The clause was carried by 175 to 31.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"> +<a href="images/393-3.png"><img src="images/393-3-200.png" width="200" height="279" alt="THE OLD SHEEP-DOG." /></a> +<h4>THE OLD SHEEP-DOG.</h4> +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span>.</i> "<span class="sc">Tut-tut! To think that +I could only round up ten of 'em</span>!"</p> +</div> +<p> +On another new clause, providing for +the administration of Southern Ireland +in the event of a Parliament not being +set up, Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span> declared that "this +musty remainder biscuit" had reduced +him to "rhetorical poverty." Perhaps +that was why he could get no more +than ten Members to follow him into +the Lobby against it.</p> + +<p> +<i>Tuesday, November 9th.</i>—In supporting +Lord <span class="sc">Parmoor's</span> protest against +the arrest, at Holyhead, of an English +lady by order of the Irish Executive, +Lord <span class="sc">Buckmaster</span> regretted that there +was no one in the House of Lords responsible +for the Irish Office, and consequently +"they were always compelled +to accept official answers." A strictly +official answer was all he got from +Lord <span class="sc">Crawford</span>, who declared that the +arrest had been made under the authority +of D.O.R.A., and gave +their Lordships the surely otiose +reminder that "conditions +were not quite simple or normal +in Ireland just now."</p> +<p> +Mr. <span class="sc">Shortt</span> has formed his +style on the model of one of +his predecessors in office, who +used to be described as the +Quite-at-Home Secretary, and +he declined to share Colonel +<span class="sc">Burn's</span> alarm at the prevalence +of revolutionary speeches. +Hyde Park, he reminded him, +had always been regarded as a +safety-valve for discontented +people. Even Mr. <span class="sc">L'Estrange +Malone's</span> recent reference to +Ministers and lamp-posts did +not at that moment disturb +him.</p> +<p> +The new Ministry of Health +Bill had a rather rough passage, +and, if the voting had +been in accordance with the +speeches, it would hardly have secured +a second reading. Particular objection +was raised to the proposal to put the +hospitals on the rates. Mr. <span class="sc">Myers</span>, +however, was sarcastic at the expense +of people who thought that "rates and +taxes must be saved though the people +perished," and declared that there was +plenty of war wealth to be drawn upon.</p> +<p> +Lieut.-Colonel <span class="sc">Hurst</span> objected to the +term "working-class" in the Bill. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="page394" id="page394"></a>[pg 394]</span> +would encourage the Socialistic fallacy +that the people of England were +divided into two classes—the leisured +class and the working class; whereas +everybody knew that most of the +"leisured class" had no leisure and +many of the "working-class" did no +work.</p> +<p> +<i>Wednesday, November 10th.</i>—The +Peers welcomed Lord <span class="sc">Buxton</span> on his +advancement to an earldom, and then +proceeded to discuss the rights of the +inhabitants of Heligoland. Having +been handed over to Germany against +their will in 1890, they hoped that the +Treaty of Versailles would restore +them to British nationality. On the +contrary the Treaty has resulted in +the island being swamped by German +workmen employed in destroying +the fortifications. Lord +<span class="sc">Crawford</span> considered +that the new electoral +law requiring three years' +residence would safeguard +the islanders from +being politically submerged, +and wisely did +not enter into the question +of how long the island +itself would remain +after the fortifications +had disappeared.</p> +<p> +In the Commons the +<span class="sc">Indian Secretary</span> underwent +his usual Wednesday +cross-examination. +He did not display quite +his customary urbanity. +When an hon. Member, +whose long and distinguished +Indian service +began in the year in which +Mr. <span class="sc">Montagu</span> was born, +ventured to suggest that +he should check Mr. <span class="sc">Gandhi's</span> appeals +to ignorance and fanaticism, he tartly +replied that ignorance and fanaticism +were very dangerous things, "whether +in India or on the benches of this +House."</p> +<p> +Mr. <span class="sc">Stewart</span> expressed anxiety lest +under the new arrangements with +Egypt the Sudan water-supply should +be subjected to Egyptian interference. +Mr. <span class="sc">Harmsworth</span> was of opinion that +for geographical reasons the Sudan +would always be able to look after its +own water-supply; <i>vide</i> the leading +case of <i>Wolf</i> v. <i>Lamb</i>.</p> +<p> +<i>Thursday, November 11th.</i>—The +<span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> was in a more aggressive +mood than usual. Mr. <span class="sc">Devlin</span>, +who was noisily incredulous as to the +existence of a Sinn Fein conspiracy +with Germany in 1918, was advised to +wait for the documents about to be published. +To make things even, an ultra-Conservative +Member, who urged the +suspension of Mr. <span class="sc">Fisher's</span> new Act, +was informed that the <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> +could conceive nothing more serious than +that the nation should decide that it +could not afford to give children a good +education.</p> +<p> +Any doubts as to the suitability of +Armistice Day for the Third Reading of +the Government of Ireland Bill were +removed by the tone of the debate. +The possibility that the "Unknown +Warrior" might have been an Irishman +softened the feeling on both sides, +and though Mr. <span class="sc">Adamson</span> feared that +the Bill would bring Ireland not peace +but a sword, and Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span> appealed +to the Government to substitute a +measure more generous to Irish aspirations, +there was no sting in either of +their speeches. The <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span>, +while defending his scheme as the best +that could be granted in the present +temper of Southern Ireland, did not +bang the door against further negotiations; +and Sir <span class="sc">Edward Carson</span> said +that Ulstermen were beginning to realize +that the Parliament thrust upon +them might be a blessing in disguise, +and expressed the hope that in working +it they would set an example of tolerance +and justice to all classes. Barely +a third of the House took part in the +division, and no Irish Member voted for +the Third Reading, which was carried by +183 votes to 52; but, having regard to +the influence of the unexpected in Irish +affairs, this apparent apathy may be a +good sign. After thirty-five years of +acute strife, Home Rule for Ireland is, +at any rate, no longer a party question.</p> + + <hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/394.png"><img src="images/394-600.png" width="600" height="397" alt="If you were thinkin' of eatin' it, speakin' as man to man, I should say 'No." /></a> +<p>"<span class="sc">Now, seriously, Mr. Wiggins, can you recommend the lamb +this week</span>?"</p> +<p>"<span class="sc">Well, Ma'am, it all depends what you want it for. If you +were thinkin' of eatin' it, speakin' as man to man, I should +say 'No.</span>'"</p> +</div> + + <hr /> +<p> +Jones minor wants to know if the +letter "T," used to designate the new +super-bus, stands for "<span class="sc">Tarquinius</span>."</p> + + <hr /> + +<h3>THE GREAT IDEA.</h3> +<p> +Perkins has got hold of a brilliant +idea. He explained it to me in the +Tube yesterday.</p> +<p> +"Our little world," he said, "is turned +topsy-turvy."</p> +<p> +"Knocked absolutely sideways," I +replied.</p> +<p> +"Those who were rich in the old +days," said Perkins, "haven't two sixpences +to rub together, and the world's +workers are rolling in Royces and +having iced méringues with every meal. +What follows?"</p> +<p> +"Indigestion," I said promptly.</p> +<p> +"Everybody," he said, ignoring my +<i>jeu d'esprit</i>, "feels like a fish out of +water, and discontent is rife. The newly-poor +man wishes he had in him the stuff +of which millionaires are +made, and the profiteer +sighs for a few pints of +the true ultramarine Norman +blood, as it would +be so helpful when dealing +with valets, gamekeepers +and the other +haughty vassals of his +new entourage. And +that is where my scheme +comes in. There are +oceans of blue blood surging +about in the veins +and arteries of dukes and +other persons who have +absolutely no further use +for such a commodity, +and I'm sure lots of it +could be had at almost +less than the present +price of milk. So what +is to prevent the successful +hosier from having +the real stuff coursing through +the auricles and ventricles of +his palpitating heart, since transfusion +is such a simple stunt nowadays?"</p> +<p> +"And I suppose," I said, "that you +would bleed him first so as to make +room for the new blood?"</p> +<p> +"There you touch the real beauty +of my idea," said Perkins. "The plebeian +sighs for aristocratic blood to +enable him to hold his own in his novel +surroundings; the aristocrat could do +with a little bright red fluid to help him +to turn an honest penny. So it is merely +a case of cross-transfusion; no waste, +no suffering, no weakness from loss of +blood on either side."</p> +<p> +I gasped at the magnitude of the idea.</p> +<p> +"I'm drawing up plans," Perkins +continued, "for a journal devoted to the +matter, in which the interested parties +can advertise their blood-stock for disposal, +a sort of 'Blood Exchange and +Mart.' The advertisements alone would +pay, I expect, for the cost of production.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page395" id="page395"></a>[pg 395]</span> +See," he said, handing me a slip of paper, +"these are the sort of ads. we should +get."</p> +<p> +This is what I read:—</p> +<p> +"Peer, ruined by the War, would sell +one-third of arterial contents for cash, +or would exchange blood-outfits with +successful woollen manufacturer.—5016 +Kensington Gore, W.</p> +<p> +"To War Profiteers. Several quarts of +the real cerulean for disposal. Been in +same family for generations. Pedigree +can be inspected at office of advertiser's +solicitor. Cross-transfusion not objected +to. Address in first instance, +<span class="sc">Bart</span>., 204, Bleeding Heart Yard, E.C.</p> +<p> +"Public School and University Man of +Plantagenet extraction would like to +correspond with healthy Coal Miner +with view to cross-transfusion. Would +sell soul for two shillings.—A. <span class="sc">Vane-Bludyer</span>, +135, Down (and Out) Street, +West Kensington, W."</p> +<p> +"Makes your blood run cold," I said, +handing back the paper.</p> +<p> +"Not it," he said, detaching himself +from the strap as the train drew into +King's Cross; "not if the operation's +properly performed."</p> + + <hr /> + +<h3>A TRAGEDY IN BIRDLAND.</h3> + +<h5>I.</h5> + +<div class="poem1"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Percy is a partridge bold</p> +<p>Who in Autumn, so I'm told,</p> +<p>Dwells among the turnip roots</p> +<p>And assists at frequent shoots,</p> +<p>Really I have seldom heard</p> +<p>Of a more precocious bird;</p> +<p>Possibly his landlord's not</p> +<p>What you'd call a first-rate shot,</p> +<p>And his pals, though jolly chaps,</p> +<p>Are not quite so good perhaps;</p> +<p>Still, he thinks their aim so trashy</p> +<p>That, I fear, he's getting rash. He</p> +<p>Even perches on the end</p> +<p>Of the gun my poor old friend</p> +<p>Bill employs for killing game.</p> +<p>True he's very blind and lame,</p> +<p>And he's well beyond the span</p> +<p>Meted out to mortal man,</p> +<p>And his gout is getting worse</p> +<p>(Meaning Bill, of course, not Perce);</p> +<p>Still, if he won't mend his ways,</p> +<p>One of these fine Autumn days</p> +<p>I'm afraid there's bound to be</p> +<p>Quite an awful tragedy.</p> +<p>He'll be shot—I'm sure he will</p> +<p>(Meaning Percy now, not Bill).</p> +</div> +</div> + +<h5>II.</h5> + +<div class="poem1"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Weep, ye lowering rain-swept skies!</p> +<p>In the dust our hero lies.</p> +<p>Weeping-willow, bow thy head!</p> +<p>Our precocious fowl is dead.</p> +<p>Sigh, thou bitter North Wind, for</p> +<p>Perce the Partridge is no more!</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Now, as long as he was ready</p> +<p>Just to sit, sedate and steady,</p> +<p>On the barrel of the gun</p> +<p>Little mischief could be done;</p> +<p>But on that sad morn a whim</p> +<p>Suddenly seized hold of him;</p> +<p>'Twas the lunatic desire</p> +<p>To observe how shot-guns fire;</p> +<p>So he boldly took his stand</p> +<p>Where the barrel ended, and,</p> +<p>All agog to solve the puzzle,</p> +<p>Poked his napper up the muzzle.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Well, the weapon at the minute</p> +<p>Chanced to have a cartridge in it,</p> +<p>And it happened that my friend</p> +<p>Bill was at the other end,</p> +<p>Who with calm unflurried aim</p> +<p>Failed (at last) to miss the game.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>With the tragic tale of Percy's</p> +<p>Death I meant to close these verses,</p> +<p>But we see quite clearly there, too,</p> +<p>Other ills that Bird is heir to.</p> +<p>He has also lost, you see,</p> +<p>Individuality;</p> +<p>Perce the Partridge, named and known,</p> +<p>With an ego all his own,</p> +<p>Disappears; and in his place</p> +<p>There remains but "half-a-brace."</p> +</div> +</div> + + <hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<a href="images/395.png"><img src="images/395-360.png" width="360" height="448" alt="Potman. 'Well, it was a bob, but they mostly sneaked out through that door.'" /></a> +<p><i>New Landlord.</i> "<span class="sc">George, billiards will be eighteenpence a hundred</span>."</p> +<p><i>Potman.</i> "<span class="sc">That's more'n they paid before, Sir</span>."</p> +<p><i>New Landlord.</i> "<span class="sc">What did they pay</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Potman.</i> "<span class="sc">Well, it <i>was</i> a bob, but they mostly sneaked out through that +door.</span>"</p> +</div> + + <hr /> + +<h4>Situations to Suit all Ages.</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +"Lady-Typist (aged 1920) required for invoicing +department of West End wholesale +firm."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Daily Paper.</i></p> +<p> +"Wanted, capable Person, about 3 years of +age, to undertake all household duties, country +residence."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Scottish Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + + <hr /> + +<h4>"<span class="sc"><b>Dick Whittington</b></span>, 1920.</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +And, last of all, here is Dick WPhittington, +otherwise known as Alderman Roll, Lord +Mayor of London."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Evening Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +But for the headline we should never +have recognised him.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page396" id="page396"></a>[pg 396]</span> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/396.png"><img src="images/396-600.png" width="600" height="354" alt="I hope to heaven I've got the labels on the right sticks, or I'm done!" /></a> +<p><i>The Beginner.</i> "<span class="sc">I hope to heaven I've got the labels on the right sticks, or I'm done</span>!"</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + + <hr /> + +<h3>BEAU BRIMACOMBE.</h3> +<p> +"Well, Uncle Tom," I said, leaning +over the gate, "and what did you think +of London?"</p> +<p> +On Monday morning Uncle Tom +Brimacombe had driven off in his trap +with his wife to the nearest station, +five miles away, and had gone up to +London for the first time in his life, +"to see about a legacy."</p> +<p> +"Lunnon! mai laife. It's a vaine +plaace. Ai used 'think Awkeyampton +was a big town, but ai'm barmed if +Lunnon dawn't beat un.</p> +<p> +"As you knaw, Zur, us 'ad to get up +and gaw off 'bout three in th' morn'n, +and us got upalong Lunnon 'bout tain. +Well, the waife knew 'er waay 'bout, +laike; 'er 's bin to Plymouth 'fore now. +Zo when us gets out of the traain us +gaws inzaide a sort er caage what taakes +us down a 'awl in the ground. Ai was +fraightened out 'me laife. 'Yer,' ai sez, +'wur be us gwaine then?'</p> +<p> +"'Dawn'ee axno questions, me dyur,' +sez the waife, 'or ai'll vorget ahl what +the guard in the traain tawld us.'</p> +<p> +"Well, baimbai the caage stops gwaine +down and us gets out, and ai'm blawed +if us wadn't in a staation ahl below the +ground! Then a traain comes out of +anither 'awl, and befwer us 'ad zat down +proper inzaide un, 'er was off agaain, +'thout waitin' vur watter nor noth'n'. +Well, we zat us down and thur was +tu little maids a-vaacin' us what 'adn' +mwer'n lef' school a yer'tu, and naw +zinner do they zet eyes on me than one +of 'n whispers zimmat to tither and they +bawth starts gazin' at my 'at and laaf'n'.</p> +<p> +"Well, ai stid it vur some taime and +at laast ai cuden' a-bear it naw longer, +so ai says to the waife, 'Fur whai they'm +laaf'n' then? What's wrong wi' my +'at?'</p> +<p> +"'Dawn'ee taake naw nawtice of +they,' 'er says. 'The little 'uzzies ought +to be at 'awm look'n' aafter the chicken, +'staid of gallivantin' about ahl bai thursalves. +Yure 'at's all raight.'</p> +<p> +"Ai was wear'n' me awld squeer +brown bawlerat what ai wears to Laanson +market on Zat'dys.</p> +<p> +"Well, zune us gets out, though ai +caan't tall'ee whur tu 'twas, and ai +caan't tall'ee what us did nither, vur +me 'aid was gwaine round an' round +and aachin' vit to burst. But us vound +the plaace us was aafter and saigned +ahl the paapers wur the man tawld us +tu. Then, when us gets outsaide, the +waife, 'er says, 'Look'ee, me dyur, +thur's a bit of graass and some trees; +us'll gawn zit down awver there and +eat our paasties.'</p> +<p> +"Maighty pwer graass 'twas tu, but +thur was seats, so us ait our paasties +thur, and us bawth started crai'in when +us bit into un. They zort 'er taasted +of 'awm, laike.</p> +<p> +"Then ahl't once the waife, 'er says, +'Pon mai word, thur's a man taak'n +our vottygraff.' And thur 'e was, tu, +with a black tarpaulin awver 'is 'aid! +'Come away, me dyur,' says she; +'ai'm not gwaine to paay vur naw +vottygraffs. Ai 'ad one done at Laanson +'oss shaw when ai was a gal, and +it faaded clean away insaide a twelve-month.' +Zo us gaws back along the +staation agaan and comes 'awm just in +taime to get the cows in.</p> +<p> +"Well, next evenin' ai went down +along 'The Duke' to tall 'em ahl 'bout +Lunnon, but when ai gets insaide they +ahl starts shout'n' and bangin' thur +mugs and waav'n the paaper at me. +'What's come awver yu?' ai axes un; +'yume ahl gone silly then?'</p> +<p> +"'Theym bin and put yure vottygraff +in the paaper, Uncle,' says John Tonkin, +and 'awlds un out vur me to look. And +thur, sure 'nuff, 'twas, with the waife +in tu! So ai gets un to let me cut'n +out and keep'n. Yur 'tis if 'eed laike +to see un."</p> +<p> +Uncle Tom fumbled in his pocket, +drew out a cutting and handed it to me. +There surely enough was a photo of +him and "the waife," sitting on a public +garden-seat eating pasties and underneath +the legend—</p> + + +<h4>"SUITS YOUNG AND OLD ALIKE.</h4> + +<p> +An old couple snapped in Hyde Park. +The gentleman, smart though elderly, +is seen wearing a brown model of <i>The +Daily Mail</i> hat."</p> + + <hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page397" id="page397"></a>[pg 397]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<a href="images/397.png"><img src="images/397-382.png" width="382" height="450" alt="AFTER THE BALL." /></a> +<h4>AFTER THE BALL.</h4> +<p>"<i>The Spirit of Jazz.</i>" "<span class="sc">Taxi</span>!"</p> +<p><i>Taxi-Driver.</i> "<span class="sc">Sorry, Sir—Ole Nick 'as just copped me</span>."</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + <hr /> + +<h4>THE CYNOSURE.</h4> +<p> +Among the passengers on the boat +was a tall dark man with a black moustache +and well-cut clothes who spent +most of his time walking the deck or +reading alone in his chair. Every ship +has such recluses, who often, however, +are on the fringe of several sets, although +members of none. But this man remained +apart and, being so determined +and solitary, he was naturally the subject +of comment and inquiry, even more +of conjecture. His name was easy to +discover from the plan of the table, but +we knew no more until little Mrs. King, +who is the best scout in the world, +brought the tidings.</p> +<p> +"I can't tell you much," she began +breathlessly; "but there's something +frightfully interesting. Colonel Swift +knows all about him. He met him +once in Poona and they have mutual +friends. And how do you think he described +him? He says he's the worst +liver in India."</p> +<p> +There is no need to describe the sensation +created by this piece of information. +If the man had set us guessing +before, he now excited a frenzy of +curiosity. The glad news traversed the +ship like wind, brightening every eye; +at any rate every female eye. For, +though the good may have their reward +elsewhere, it is beyond doubt that, if +public interest is any guerdon, the bad +get it on earth.</p> +<p> +Show me a really bad man—dark-complexioned, +with well-cut clothes and +a black moustache—and I will show +you a hero; a hero a little distorted, it is +true, but not much the less heroic for +that. Show me a notorious breaker of +male hearts and laws and—so long as +she is still in business—I will show you +a heroine; again a little distorted, but +with more than the magnetism of the +virtuous variety.</p> +<p> +For the rest of the voyage the lonely +passenger was lonely only because he preferred +to be, or was unaware of the agitation +which he caused. People walked +for hours longer than they liked or even +intended in order to have a chance of +passing him in his chair and scrutinising +again the features that masked such +depravity. For that they masked it +cannot be denied. A physiognomist +looking at him would have conceded a +certain gloom, a trend towards introspection, +possibly a hypertrophied love +of self, but no more. Physiognomists, +however, can retire from the case, for +they are as often wrong as hand-writing +experts. And if any Lavater had +been on board and had advanced such +a theory he would have been as unpopular +as <span class="sc">Jonah</span>, for the man's wickedness +was not only a joy to us but a support. +Without it the voyage would +have been interminable.</p> +<p> +What, we all wondered, had he done? +Had he murdered as well as destroyed so +many happy homes? Was he crooked +at cards? Our minds became acutely +active, but we could discover no more +because the old Colonel, the source of +knowledge, had fallen ill and was invisible.</p> +<p> +Meanwhile the screw revolved, sweepstakes +were lost and won, deck sports +flourished, fancy-dress dances were held, +concerts were endured, a Colonial Bishop +addressed us on Sunday mornings and +the tall dark man with the black moustache +and different suits of well-cut +clothes sat in his chair and passed +serenely from one <span class="sc">Oppenheim</span> to another +as though no living person were +within leagues.</p> +<p> +It was not until we were actually in +port that the Colonel recovered and I +came into touch with him. Standing +by the rail we took advantage of the +liberty to speak together, which on a +ship such propinquity sanctions. After +we had exchanged a few remarks about +the clumsiness of the disembarking +arrangements I referred to the man of +mystery and turpitude, and asked for +particulars of some of his milder +offences.</p> +<p> +"Why do you suppose him such a +blackguard?" he asked.</p> +<p> +"But surely——" I began, a little +disconcerted.</p> +<p> +"He's a man," the Colonel continued, +"that everyone should be sorry +for. He's a wreck, and he's going home +now probably to receive his death sentence."</p> +<p> +This was a promising phrase and I +cheered up a little, but only for a moment.</p> +<p> +"That poor devil," said the Colonel, +"as I told Mrs. King earlier in the voyage, +has the worst liver in India."</p> + +<p class="author"> +E. V. L.</p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page398" id="page398"></a>[pg 398]</span> + + +<h3>A VACILLATING POLICY.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>A Warning against dealing with Disreputable Companies.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When the Man of Insurance made his rounds</p> +<p>I "covered" my house for a thousand pounds;</p> +<p>Then someone started a fire in the grounds</p> + <p class="i2">At the end of a wild carouse.</p> +<p>The building was burnt; I made my claim</p> +<p>And the Man of Insurance duly came.</p> + <p class="i10">Said he, "Always</p> + <p class="i10">Our Company pays</p> + <p class="i2">Without any fuss or grouse;</p> +<p>But your home was rotted from drains to flues;</p> +<p>I therefore offer you as your dues</p> +<p>Seven hundred pounds or, if you choose,</p> + <p class="i2">A better and brighter house."</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I took the money; I need not say</p> +<p>What abuse I hurled at his head that day;</p> +<p>But, when he began in his artful way</p> + <p class="i2">To talk of Insurance (Life),</p> +<p>And asked me to take out a policy for</p> +<p>My conjugal partner, my <i>cordium cor</i>,</p> + <p class="i10">"No, no," said I,</p> + <p class="i10">"If my spouse should die</p> + <p class="i2">We should enter again into strife;</p> +<p>You would come and say at the funeral, 'Sir,</p> +<p>Your wife was peevish and plain; for her</p> +<p>I offer six hundred or, if you prefer,</p> + <p class="i2">A better and brighter wife.'"</p> +</div> +</div> + + <hr /> + +<h3>THE HAPPY GARDENER.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>Extracts from a Synthetic Diary à la mode.</i>)</p> +<p> +<i>November 11th.</i>—Now is the time to plant salsify, or the +vegetable oyster, as it has been aptly named from its crustacean +flavour so dear to herbaceous boarders. This may +be still further accentuated by planting it in soil containing +lime, chalk or other calcareous or sebaceous deposits.</p> +<p> +Hedgehogs are now in prime condition for baking, but it +is desirable to remove the quills before entrusting the animal +to the oven. But the hedgehog cannot be cooked until he +is caught, and his capture should not be attempted without +strong gloves. Those recently invented by Lord <span class="sc">Thanet</span> +are far the best for the purpose. It is a moot point among +culinary artists whether the hedgehog should be served <i>en +casserole</i> or in <i>coquilles</i>; but these are negligible details +when you are steeped in the glamour of pale gold from a +warm November sun, and mild air currents lag over the level +leagues where the water is but slightly crimped and the +alighting heron is lost among the neutral tints that envelop +him....</p> +<p> +Though the sun's rays are not now so fervent as they +were in the dog-days, gardening without any headgear is +dangerous, especially in view of the constant stooping. For +the protection of the <i>medulla</i> nothing is better than the +admirable hat recently placed on the market by the benevolent +enterprise of a great newspaper. But an effective +substitute can be improvised out of a square yard of linoleum +lined with cabbage-leaves and fastened with a couple of +safety-pins.</p> +<p> +As the late Sir <span class="sc">Andrew Clark</span> remarked in a luminous +phrase, Nature forgives but she never forgets. The complete +gardener should always aim (unlike the successful +journalist) at keeping his head cool and his feet warm; and +here again the noble enterprise of a newspaper has provided +the exact <i>desideratum</i> in its happily-named Corkolio detachable +soles, which are absolutely invaluable when roads +are dark and ways are foul, when the reeds are sere, when +all the flowers have gone and the carrion-crow from the +vantage of a pollard utters harsh notes of warning to all the +corvine company round about....</p> +<p> +Shod with Corkolio the happy gardener can defy these +sinister visitants and ply the task of "heeling over" broccoli +towards the north with perfect impunity.</p> +<p> +The ravages of stag-beetles, a notable feature of late +seasons, and probably one of the indirect but none the less +disastrous results of the Land Valuation policy of the <span class="sc">Prime +Minister</span>, can be kept down by leaving bowls of caviare +mixed with molasses in the places which they most frequent. +This compound reduces them speedily to a comatose condition, +in which they can be safely exterminated with the +aid of the patent hot-air pistolette (price five guineas) recently +invented by a director of one of the journals already +alluded to.</p> +<p> +But <i>tout lasse, tout casse, tout passe</i>; and while the kingfisher +turns his sapphire back in the sun against the lemon-yellow +of the willow leaves, and the smouldering russet of +the oak-crowns succeeds to the crimson of the beeches and +the gold of the elms, we shall do well to emulate the serene +magnanimity of Nature and console ourselves with the reflection +that the rural philosopher, if only assured of a sympathetic +hearing in an enlightened Press and provided with +a suitable equipment by the ingenuity of its directors, may +contemplate the vagaries of tyrannical misgovernment with +fortitude and even felicity.</p> + + <hr /> + +<h3>A SARTORIAL TRAGEDY.</h3> + +<blockquote class="note"><p> +["To be fashionable one must have the waist so narrow that there +is a strain upon the second button when the jacket is fastened."</p> +<p class="author"> +<i>Note on Men's Dress.</i>] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Garbed in the very height and pink of fashion,</p> + <p class="i2">To-day I sallied forth to greet my fair,</p> +<p>Nursing within my ardent heart a passion</p> + <p class="i2">I long had had a craving to declare;</p> +<p>Being convinced that never would there fall so</p> + <p class="i2">Goodly a chance again, I mused how she</p> +<p>Was good and kind and beautiful, and also</p> + <p class="i6">Expecting me to tea.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And after tea I stood before her, feeling</p> + <p class="i2">Now was the moment when the maid would melt,</p> +<p>My buttoned jacket helpfully revealing</p> + <p class="i2">The graces of a figure trimly svelte,</p> +<p>But, all unworthy to adorn a poet</p> + <p class="i2">Who'd bought it for a fabulous amount,</p> +<p>Just as I knelt to put the question, lo, it</p> + <p class="i6">Popped on its own account.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The button, dodging my attempts to hide it,</p> + <p class="i2">Rolled to her very feet and rested there,</p> +<p>And when I laid my loving heart beside it</p> + <p class="i2">She only smiled at that incongruous pair—</p> +<p>Smiled, then in contrite pity for the gloomy</p> + <p class="i2">Air that I wore of one whose chance is gone,</p> +<p>Promised that she would be a sister to me</p> + <p class="i6">And sew the button on.</p> +</div> +</div> + + <hr /> + +<h4>A Test of Endurance.</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +"The dancing will commence at 9 p.m. and conclude at 2 p.m. +Anyone still wanting tickets may procure same at the Victoria."</p> +<p class="author"> +<i>East African Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +For ourselves, after seventeen hours' continuous dancing, +we shall not want any more tickets.</p> + + <hr /> +<p> +From a parish magazine:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"A nation will not remain virulent which destroys the barriers +which protect the Sunday." +</p></blockquote> +<p> +We are all for protecting the Sunday, but we don't want +to remain virulent. It is a terrible dilemma.</p> + + <hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page399" id="page399"></a>[pg 399]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/399.png"><img src="images/399-600.png" width="600" height="413" alt="Situation: Burglar caught red-handed." /></a> +<p><span class="sc">Situation</span>: <i>Burglar caught red-handed.</i></p> +<p><i>Woman.</i> "<span class="sc">The sorce o' the feller! 'E pretended to be me 'usband and called out, 'It's all right, darlin'—it's +only me.' It was the word 'darlin'' wot give 'im away</span>."</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + <hr /> + +<h3>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</p> +<p> +In looking at the title-page of <i>John Seneschal's Margaret</i> +(<span class="sc">Hodder and Stoughton</span>) no lover of good stories but will +be saddened by the reflection that the superscription, "by +<span class="sc">Agnes</span> and <span class="sc">Egerton Castle</span>," is there seen for the last +time. The double signature, herald of how much pleasure +in the past, is here attached to a cheerfully improbable but +well-told tale of the after-war about a returned soldier who +was mistaken for his dead fellow-prisoner and hailed as son, +heir and <i>fiancé</i> by the different members of the welcoming +group in the home that wasn't his. The descriptions of +this home, by the way—a house whose identification will +be easy enough for those who know the beautiful North-Dorset +country—are as good as any part of the book. If you +protest that the resulting situation is not only wildly improbable +but becoming a stock-in-trade of our novelists, I +must admit the first charge, but point out that the authors +here secure originality by making the deception an unintended +one. <i>John Tempest</i>, who in the hardships of his +escape has lost memory of his own identity, never ceases +to protest that he is at least not the other <i>John</i> for whom +the members of the <i>Seneschal</i> family persist in taking him—a +twist that makes for piquancy if hardly for added probability. +However, the inevitable solution of the problem +provides a story entertaining enough, though not, I think, +one that will obliterate your memory of others, incomparable, +from hands to which we all owe a debt of long enjoyment.</p> +<p> +I read <i>Inisheeny</i> (<span class="sc">Methuen</span>), as I believe I have read +every story by the same hand, at one sitting. Whose was +the hand I will ask you to guess. Characters: one Church +of Ireland parson, drily humorous, as narrator; one lively +heroine with archæological father, hunting for relics; one +schoolboy; one young and over-zealous R.I.C. officer on the +look-out for concealed arms; poachers, innkeepers, peasants, +etc. Action, mostly amphibious, passes between the mainland +of Western Ireland and a small islet off the coast. +Will the gentleman who said "<span class="sc">George A. Birmingham</span>" +kindly consider himself entitled to ten nuts? I suppose it +was the mention of an islet that finally gave away my simple +secret. Mr. "<span class="sc">Birmingham</span>" is one of the too few authors +who understand what emotion an island of the proper size +and right distance from the coast can raise in the human +breast. <i>Inisheeny</i> delightfully fulfilled every condition in +this respect; not to mention sheltering an illicit still and +being the home of Keltic treasure. Precisely in fact the +right kind of place, and the sort of story that hardly anyone +can put down unfinished. I am bound to add that, +perhaps a hundred pages from the actual end, the humour +of the affair seems to lose spontaneity and become forced. +But till the real climax of the tale, the triumphant return +of the various hunters from <i>Inisheeny</i>, I can promise +that you will find never a dull page.</p> + + <hr /> +<p> +There were moments in <i>The Headland</i> (<span class="sc">Heinemann</span>) +when, with <i>Roma Lennox</i>, the "companion" and heroine, I +"shivered, feeling that London, compared with the old +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page400" id="page400"></a>[pg 400]</span> +house on the Headland and the family inhabiting it, was a +clean place with a clear atmosphere and inhabited by +robust, sane, straightforward persons. You felt homesick." +Cornwall is notoriously inhabited by queer people, and the +<i>Pendragon</i> family was not merely queer but hereditarily +rotten and decadent: the old father, who burns a valuable +old book of his own to appease his violent temper; the +granddaughter a kleptomaniac; the son of forty addicted to +hideous cruelties. Unpleasant but well drawn, all of them. +Mrs. <span class="sc">C. A. Dawson Scott</span> has powerfully suggested the +atmosphere of the strange and tragic household, mourning +its dead mistress; and she understands the peculiar quality +of the Cornish people and the Cornish seas. I have not read +her other novels, but, if she will promise to wrestle with +one or two rather irritating mannerisms, I will promise to +look out for her next one. I have no prejudice against the +Wellsian triplet of dots, but really Mrs. Scott does overdo +it. And a good deal of her quite penetrating psycho-thingummy +was spoiled for me by her trick of conveying +nearly every impression +and reflection of +her characters through +an impersonal "you" +or "one." This means +an economy of words +and for a short time a +certain vividness, but it +soon becomes tedious. +One knows what a +tangle you get into if +one starts using "one's" +and "you's" in your +letters; and you find +that the author has +been caught once or +twice. However, the +story is good enough +to survive that.</p> + + <hr /> +<p> +The title of <i>The Lady +of The Lawn</i> (<span class="sc">Jenkins</span>) +has "the ornament of +alliteration," but beyond +that there doesn't +seem to be any particular +reason why Mr. W. <span class="sc">Riley</span> should have chosen it. +Certainly in his story there is an old lady who spends +more of the winter on a lawn than any old lady of my +acquaintance could be induced to, even with rugs and a +summer-house to make up for the comforts of the fireside; +but <i>Miss Barbara</i> and her site really have not so much to +do with the tale as its title seems to imply. The love affairs +of a young officer who, while blind from wounds, fell in love +with his nurse to the extent of becoming engaged to her +and didn't recognise her when they met again, are Mr. +<span class="sc">Riley's</span> real concern. <i>Eric</i>, who is quite as priggish as his +name suggests, falls in love with his sweetheart, as a lady +of leisure, all over again, and goes through agonies of remorse +on account of his own faithlessness to her as a nurse. +<i>Marion</i> or <i>Constance</i>, for she uses two names to help the +confusion, lets him suffer a while for the good of his soul, +but the happy ending, the promise of which is breathed +from every line of the book, is duly brought about. His +publisher asserts that "there is no living author who writes +about Yorkshire as does Mr. <span class="sc">Riley</span>." I daresay he is quite +right, but at least as far as the present book is concerned I +don't think that I should have bothered to mention it.</p> + + <hr /> +<p> +Those—and I suspect they are many—whose first real +enthusiasm for <span class="sc">Abraham Lincoln</span> was kindled by Mr. <span class="sc">John +Drinkwater's</span> romantic morality play can profitably take +up Mr. <span class="sc">Irving Bacheller's</span> <i>A Man for the Ages</i> (<span class="sc">Constable</span>) +for an engaging account of the early days of the great +Democrat. They will forgive a certain flamboyance about +the author's preliminaries. Hero-worship, if the hero be +worthy, is a very pardonable weakness, and they should +certainly admire the skill and humour with which he has +patched together, or invented where seemly, the story of +lanky <span class="sc">Abe</span>, with his axeman's skill, his immense physical +strength, his poor head for shopkeeping, his passion for +books, his lean purse and "shrinking pants," his wit, courage +and resource. A romance of reasonable interest and plausibility +is woven round young Lincoln's story. Perhaps +Mr. <span class="sc">Bacheller</span> makes his hero speak a little too sententiously +at times, and certainly some of his other folk say +queer things, such as, "What so vile as a cheap aristocracy, +growing up in idleness, too noble to be restrained, with +every brutal passion broad-blown as flush as May?" What +indeed! The picture of +pioneering America in +the thirties is a fresh +and interesting one.</p> + + <hr /> +<p> +To few of those who +visit Switzerland, with +its incomparable mountains, +can it have occurred +that, once a man +is kept there against +his will, it can be a +prison as damnable as +any other; possibly even +more damnable by reason +of those same inevitable +mountains. British +prisoners of war interned +there knew that. +Mr. <span class="sc">R. O. Prowse</span>, in +<i>A Gift of the Dusk</i> +(<span class="sc">Collins</span>), speaks with +subtle penetration for +those other prisoners, +interned victims of the +dreadful malady. Of +necessity he writes sadly; but yet he writes as a very +genial philosopher, permitting himself candidly "just that +little cynicism which helps to keep one tolerant." He is +of the old and entertaining school of sentimental travellers, +but he is far from being old-fashioned. The story running +through his observations and modern instances is so frail and +delicate a thing that I hesitate to touch it and to risk disturbing +its bloom. All readers, save the very young and +the very old, will do well to travel with him, from Charing +Cross ("I have a childlike fondness for trains. I like to be +in them, I like to see them go by") to the peaceful, almost +happy end, at the mountain refuge by the valley of the +Rhone. They will not regret an inch of the way; and they +will derive some very positive enjoyment from the picture +of that most melancholy hotel where the story is set.</p> + + <hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<a href="images/400.png"><img src="images/400-600.png" width="600" height="416" alt="WORRIES OF THE MIDDLE AGES." /></a> +<h4>WORRIES OF THE MIDDLE AGES.</h4> +<p><i>Mounted Gentleman</i> (<i>who has come to grief in a morass</i>). "<span class="sc">If I escape this +peril I suppose I shall have to build a church here as a thank-offering. +An ill site, I fear</span>."</p> +</div><br /><br /> + + <hr /> + +<h4>A New Safety Model.</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +"Lady's strong cycle, 23-in. frame, 28 wheels."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Cycling.</i> +</p></blockquote> + + <hr /> +<p> +From an account of the M.C.C. team's match at Colombo:</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"When the unlucky thirteen was reached, Hobbs, who was sleeping +finely, fell to a great catch at mid-on by Gunasekera."</p> +<p class="author"> +—<i>Ceylon Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> +<p> +Happily <span class="sc">Hobbs</span> appears to have waked up when he got to +Australia.</p> + + <hr /> +<br /> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +159, November 17, 1920, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 19349-h.htm or 19349-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/3/4/19349/ + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Jonathan Ingram 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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