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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:55:33 -0700 |
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diff --git a/19382-h/19382-h.htm b/19382-h/19382-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..24c2c07 --- /dev/null +++ b/19382-h/19382-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3236 @@ +<!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 http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + + <title>Punch, 13th October 1920.</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .drama {margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .drama p {margin: 1em 0em 0em 0em;; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + .drama p.i2 {margin: 0; margin-left: 1em;} + .drama p.i4 {margin: 0; margin-left: 2em;} + .drama p.i6 {margin: 0; margin-left: 3em;} + .drama p.i8 {margin: 0; margin-left: 4em;} + .drama p.i10 {margin: 0; margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + .inline {border: none; vertical-align: middle;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + + .side { float:right; + font-size: 75%; + width: 25%; + padding-left:10px; + border-left: dashed thin; + margin-left: 10px; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: italic;} + --> + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 159, +October 13, 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, Volume 159, October 13, 1920 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Owen Seaman + +Release Date: September 26, 2006 [EBook #19382] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Stephanie Maschek, 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>October 13, 1920.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page269" id="page269"></a>[pg 269]</span> +<h2><b>CHARIVARIA.</b></h2> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Riazanov</span>, the successor to <span class="sc">Kameneff</span>, +is now residing in Grosvenor +Street. Several readers have written +to ask us how his name is pronounced. +Wrongly, we believe, in nine cases out +of ten.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>We have been given to understand +that that versatile pair, the <span class="sc">Two Bobs</span>, +are contemplating a tour of the music-halls +in the mining district, where they +are sure to be given a rousing reception.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>According to <i>The Evening News</i> two +miners recently played a quoit match for +a hundred pounds. In all probability +they are now agitating for the two shillings' +increase to enable +them to have a little side +bet.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"We cannot choose +how we will be born," +says a medical writer. +No; some are born poor +and others are born into +a miner's family.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"Where stands England +to-day?" we are +asked. While travelling +in the Tube we have +often thought that most +of it was standing on +our feet.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"With the outgoing +of September we face +once more the month of +October, with its falling +leaves and autumn gales," +states a writer in a daily +paper. This, we understand, is according +to precedent.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A Glamorgan collier, summoned for +income-tax, stated that he earned eleven +pounds a week and wanted every penny +of it. It is said that he is saving up to +buy a strike of his own.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A live frog is reported to have been +found in a coal seam at a Monmouthshire +colliery. It seems to have been +greatly concerned at having missed the +previous strike ballot.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>With reference to Mr. <span class="sc">Spender's</span> interview +with Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span> we regret +that no mention is made of the exact +date when the <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> will +declare the New World open.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Since it has been so well advertised +we understand that the banned poster, +"The Unknown," is shortly to be renamed +"The Very Well Known."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The <span class="sc">ex-Kaiser</span> is reported to have +made his will. He has bequeathed his +trial to his youngest grandson.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>It is proposed to make Poole a first-class +port, at a cost of £3,750,000. We +cannot help thinking that hidden away +in some Government office is a man +who could do it at treble the cost.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A London firm of pastrycooks have +purchased two obsolete tanks from the +Disposal Boards. They are said to +make excellent utensils for flattening +pancakes.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A dainty little invention has just been +tried by the Bolshevists, which consists +of a method whereby boiling water from +the ship's boiler can be pumped on to +sailors who do not obey their officers. +It is said to be just the thing to keep +their minds off the idea of mutiny.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"I have all the qualifications for a +post in some Government office," writes +an Unemployed Ex-Soldier in a contemporary. +It is to be hoped that this +drawback will be overlooked if his other +disqualifications are satisfactory.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Washable hats for boys is one of the +new inventions at the Leather and Shoe +Trade Exhibition. Small boys are now +going about in fear that the next discovery +will be a washable neck.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Six bandits entered the Central Café, +New York, the other day and took one +thousand pounds from the diners. The +ease with which they did it suggests +that they were mistaken for waiters.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A plumber in Aberdeen is giving lessons +to a women's class in knitting. It +is said that his treatise on How to +Crochet a Burst Bath-Pipe is likely to +become a standard work.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>In taking away a safe containing six +thousand pounds from a Fenchurch +Street office, burglars broke down a door +with a thick glass panel. The profession +is of the opinion that the blame +for this lies with the firm. They had +locked the door.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>The Daily Chronicle</i> informs us that +a New York couple who were engaged +in 1868 have just been married. But +surely the wonder is that they were +not married long before.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A woman has told the +medical officer of Burnham +that rats so like the +poison being used that +they come out of their +holes for it while it is +being put down. We +always make our rats +stand up and beg for it.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A domestic servant +was recently blown out +of her mistress's house +through the too liberal +use of paraffin whilst +lighting fires. Luckily, +however, it was her day +out, so no complications +ensued.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>On being asked his recipe +for keeping young, a +well-known physician refused +to reply. In view +of the increasing number +of precocious authors, the question +again arises, "Should a doctor tell?"</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>The Daily Express</i> states that there +is "very little demand for champagne +to-day." We fancy this is due to the +fact that a number of people are saving +up to buy coffee at Messrs. <span class="sc">Lyons'</span>.</p> + +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/269.png"><img width="100%" src="images/269.png" alt="" /></a> + +<h3>THE MORNING TOILET.</h3> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Oh, look, Mummy! There's Wilfred doing his hair from memory.</span>"</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h3><b>"The Passionate Spectator."</b></h3> + +<p>We are asked to say that the above +title of a book written by Miss <span class="sc">Jane +Burr</span> and published by Messrs. <span class="sc">Duckworth</span> +(it is described on the wrapper +as "an entirely unconventional novel +founded on original and ultra-modern +views concerning life and marriage") +has nothing to do with our respected +contemporary.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">Government's Striking Attitude. +Waiting till the Car Jumbs</span>?"</p> + +<p><i>Nigerian Pioneer.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Personally we always try to get out +when this seems to be imminent.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page270" id="page270"></a>[pg 270]</span> + +<h2><b>TO OUR PLAY-MAKERS.</b></h2> + +<blockquote><p> +[<i>The Daisy</i> and <i>The Crossing</i>, which both +dealt with the life after death, have come to +an untimely end; and, in deference to public +feeling, the heroine of <i>Every Woman's Privilege</i> +has been furnished with a fresh <i>fiancé</i>.] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>When in my stall at eve I sit</p> +<p class="i2">(And these remarks would still apply,</p> +<p class="i2">Perhaps with greater force, were I</p> +<p>Accommodated in the Pit)—</p> +<p>Worn with the long day's dusty strife,</p> +<p class="i2">I ask a brief surcease of gloom;</p> +<p>I want a mirror held to life,</p> +<p class="i2">But not the life beyond the tomb.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The views of parties who have "crossed"</p> +<p class="i2">(Meaning to Jordan's further shore),</p> +<p class="i2">Those, as they say, who've "gone before,"</p> +<p>But not (unhappily) been "lost"—</p> +<p>They make me ill; they decompose</p> +<p class="i2">My vital essence at its fount</p> +<p>(Excepting <span class="sc">Barrie's</span> <i>Mary Rose</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">But then, of course, he doesn't count).</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Give me the life that quick men lead,</p> +<p class="i2">Of which I know the hopes and fears</p> +<p class="i2">Better than those of shadier spheres;</p> +<p>And, if at first you don't succeed,</p> +<p>If you should hear the critics croak,</p> +<p class="i2">"As to your heroine's choice, you err,"</p> +<p>Just hand her to the other bloke—</p> +<p class="i2">That's what they did with <span class="sc">Marie Löhr</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So shall creative art suggest</p> +<p class="i2">A world where people may revise</p> +<p class="i2">Their silly past, and realise</p> +<p>Those second thoughts which are the best;</p> +<p>Where, having seen the larger light,</p> +<p class="i2">A perfect liberty to hedge</p> +<p>And swap the wrong man for the right</p> +<p class="i2">Is "Every Woman's Privilege."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>O. S.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h2><b>YET ONE MORE PLAN FOR IRELAND.</b></h2> + +<p>Feeling rather lonely because almost +everybody had entered for the great +Irish Problem Competition in the morning +and evening press except myself, I +sat down and wrote the following solution, +which I posted immediately to the +Editors of <i>The Times</i> and of <i>The Westminster +Gazette</i>:—</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Sir</span>"—I began indignantly, for I +noticed all the best competitors begin +like that. In these Bolshevistic days I +should have preferred of course to have +started off with "Comrade" or "Brother," +or even, since I was writing from the +heart of the country, have opened with +"Eh bor," as people do in dialect novels, +but, fearing I might be disqualified, I +began, as I say, "Sir," and went on, +much as the other statesmen did:—</p> + +<p>"In all the lengthy annals of this +Government, vacillation between weakness +and tyranny has never proved so +disastrous as it is proving in Ireland to-day, +and the conduct of that unhappy +country's affairs is now plunged in a +chaos so profoundly chaotic that it has +become a gross misuse of language to +call them affairs at all. Out of all this +welter and confusion two salient facts +are seen to emerge:—</p> + +<p>"(1) No two Englishmen are agreed +upon a settlement that will at the same +time satisfy the just aspirations of Ireland +and preserve the integrity of the +British Empire.</p> + +<p>"(2) No two Irishmen are either.</p> + +<p>"At the same time the number of sane +and carefully considered plans for the +government of Ireland was never so +great as it is to-day. When will our +incompetent Cabinet perceive that the +only way of warding off the stain of +perfidy which dogs their footsteps and +threatens to overwhelm them is to make +use of all these plans? I put aside for +the moment the most violent proposals +of the extremists on either side, such as +that of the annexation of England by the +Sinn Fein Empire and that of the deportation +of all Irishmen to the Andaman +Islands and the re-colonisation of the +country with correspondents to the daily +press; but between these two extremes +there surely lie innumerable solutions +which both can and ought to be employed. +I will only name here a few +of them:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Asquith</span> autonomy.</p> +<p>Dominion Home Rule.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Dunraven</span> autonomy.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Grey</span> autonomy.</p> +<p>Red autonomy.</p> +<p>Government by Dhail Eireann.</p> +<p>Government by Dhail Ymaill.</p> +<p>Administration by the L. C. C.</p> +<p>Clan warfare.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>"And there are infinite shades and +variations of all these.</p> + +<p>"Every one of the policies I have +named, and as many more as possible, +should now be adopted at once, one +after the other, I suggest, for quarterly +periods and in alphabetical order.</p> + +<p>"But let there be no mistake. They +must be strictly enforced. It must be +impossible for Irishmen to come to +England in the future and say to her, +as they have so often said in the past, +'You made us promises which, when +we leant on them, proved a broken +reed and turned to dust and ashes in +our mouths.'</p> + +<p>"One of the bitterest reproaches that +is hurled, and hurled justly, at British +maladministration is that through all +the seeming variations of misgovernment +there has been in fact no change. +Dublin Castle remains where it did. +This must be altered at once. <i>The site of +Dublin Castle must be moved every three +months.</i> There must be infinite change, +and it must be infinitely thorough and +infinitely systematic, so that, side by +side with the continuous grievances of +all dissatisfied parties, will be the certain +assurance that those grievances +will in strict rotation be remedied.</p> + +<p>"The objection will, of course, be +raised that these continual changes +of government will involve a certain +amount of disorder; that one system +will scarcely be working before it is +superseded by another; that the rapid +alterations in the <i>personnel</i> of the judicature, +civil service and police will be +inconvenient; that everything, in fact, +will be in a muddle. But by how much +is not well-organised muddle to be preferred +to unsystematic anarchy? And +as each type of government recurs in +due course will it not be found to work +more simply and satisfactorily?</p> + +<p>"To those who shrug their shoulders +and say that a series of kaleidoscopic +changes in Irish administration would +never be approved by the good sense +of the British electorate I can only +urge that it is precisely this attitude +of intolerance towards and ignorance +of Irish psychology which has rendered +our behaviour to Ireland for so many +centuries a by-word not only throughout +Europe but the whole civilised world +and the United States of America.</p> + +<p>"I am, Sir, yours, etc."</p> + +<p>Through some accident or other, +either because I have not followed +exactly the prescribed rules of the competition, +such as writing on one side of +the paper only, or addressing it from +the National Liberal Club, or obtaining +the signature of five witnesses, my solution +has not yet appeared in <i>The Times</i> +or in <i>The Westminster Gazette</i> either. +Feeling it a pity, however, that any +helpful suggestion should be lost at a +time when never in the annals of Irish +misgovernment has vacillation vacillated +so vacillatingly as it does to-day, +I have repeated my strong but simple +proposals here.</p> + +<p>K.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Clever forgeries of Fisher notes are in +circulation in St. Pancras.</p> + +<p>Last night, during the busy period, a number +of publications in the Kentish Town district +were victimised."—<i>Evening Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We had no idea that Kentish Town +was such a literary centre.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Even Paris seems willing this season to +add a few inches to the length of skirts, and +six to eight inches is becoming the accepted +length for street wear. This is an excellent +length, not so long as to endanger the chic of +the costume, nor so short as to be unbecoming +in either sense of the word."—<i>Fashion Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We refrain from any speculations as to +the previous length of these skirts before +the "few inches" were added.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page271" id="page271"></a>[pg 271]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/271.png"><img width="100%" src="images/271.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>THE POLISH HUG.</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">Bolshevist.</span> "YOUR ATTITUDE CONVINCES ME, KAMERAD, THAT WE WERE MEANT +TO BE FRIENDS."</p> +</div> +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page272" id="page272"></a>[pg 272]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:70%;"> + <a href="images/272.png"><img width="100%" src="images/272.png" alt="" /></a> + +<p><i>Willium</i> (<i>having at critical stage in four-handed +game undertaken to spot the red</i>). "<span class="sc">'Tis +all over, Gearge—my hand be stuck +in the pockut.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2><b>ELIZABETH OUTWITTED.</b></h2> + +<p>"An' when I dies they give me +fifteen pounds on the nail an' no +waitin'," said Elizabeth triumphantly, +as she explained her latest insurance +scheme.</p> + +<p>"On what nail?" I asked distrustfully. +I could not understand why +Elizabeth felt justified in paying sixpence +per week for a benefit fraught +with so little ultimate joy to herself. +But she is the sort of girl that can +never resist the back-door tout. She +is constantly being persuaded to buy +something for which she pays a small +weekly sum. This is entered in a book, +and the only conditions are that she +must continue paying that sum for the +rest of her natural lifetime.</p> + +<p>On these lines Elizabeth has "put +in" for many articles in the course of +her chequered career. She has had +fleeting possession of a steel engraving +of <span class="sc">Queen Victoria</span>, a watch that never +would go—until her payments ceased—a +sewing-machine (treadle), a set of +vases and a marble timepiece. The +timepiece, she explained, was destined +for "the bottom drawer," which she +had begun to furnish from the moment +a young man first inquired which was +her night out.</p> + +<p>As all these things were taken from +her directly her payments fell off, I +thought I had better give her the +benefit of my ripe judgment. "I +shouldn't buy anything on the instalment +plan, if I were you," I advised. +"Some people seem to be made for the +system, but you are not one of them."</p> + +<p>"But I 'aven't told you wot I'm +buyin' now," she said excitedly, putting +a plate on the rack as she spoke. I +ought to say she meant to put it on +the rack; that it fell two inches short +wasn't Elizabeth's fault.</p> + +<p>"It was cracked afore," she murmured +mechanically as she gathered up +the fragments. "Yes, I pays a shillin' +a week an' I gets a grammerfone."</p> + +<p>"A what?" I gasped.</p> + +<p>"A grammerfone—to play, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Where will it play?" I asked +feebly.</p> + +<p>"'Ere," she said, waving a comprehensive +hand; "an' it won't 'arf liven +the place up. My friend 'as 'ers goin' +all day long."</p> + +<p>I stifled a moan of horror, for I am +one of the elect few who loathe gramophones, +even at their best and costliest.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth," I cried, tears of anguish +rising to my eyes, "let me implore you +not to get one of those horr—I mean, +not to be imposed on again."</p> + +<p>"I've got it," she announced. "I +meantersay I've paid the first shillin' +an' it's comin' to-morrow. I 'ave it a +month on trial."</p> + +<p>The month certainly was a trial—for +me. Ours is not one of those old-fashioned +residences with thick walls +that muffle sound, and where servants +can be consigned to dwell in the bowels +of the earth. Every noise which arises +in the kitchen, from Elizabeth's badinage +with the butcher's boy to the +raucous grind of the knife-machine, +echoes through the house <i>viâ</i> the study +where I work.</p> + +<p>Thus, although Elizabeth kept the +kitchen-door shut, I found myself compelled +for one-half of the day to consider +an insistent demand as to the ultimate +destination of flies in the winter-time. +The rest of the day the gramophone +gave us <i>K-K-K-Katie</i>. (Elizabeth had +only two records to begin with.)</p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page273" id="page273"></a>[pg 273]</span> +<p>I became unnerved. My work suffered. +It began to trickle back to me +accompanied by the regrets of editors; +and to writers the regrets of editors +are the most poignant in the world.</p> + +<p>The situation was saved by the most +up-to-date tout of the whole back-door +tribe. He persuaded Elizabeth to go +in for Spiritualism. Do not misunderstand +me. You can be a Spiritualist +and also keep a gramophone, but, if +you are Elizabeth, you cannot keep +the two running at the same time if +you must pay a shilling per week for +each. When she sought my opinion I +strongly advised the séances, which I +said were cheap at the price; indeed +I thought they were when the gramophone +departed.</p> + +<p>It was now Elizabeth's turn to become +unnerved. She has a mind that +is peculiarly open to impressions, and +communion with the spirits unbalanced +her. She justified her expenditure of +a shilling weekly by placing the utmost +faith in them.</p> + +<p>"I 'ad a message from them there +spirits larst night," she informed me +one day, "an' they tell me I must +change my 'abitation."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" I asked, +startled.</p> + +<p>"I put a message through, arskin' +them when I should get a settled young +man, an' they told me that the fates +are agen me in my present dwellin', +so if you'll please take my notice +from—"</p> + +<p>I will not go through the sickening +formula. Every housewife must have +heard it several times at least in the +past year or so. I accepted Elizabeth's +resignation and began to concentrate +on newspaper announcements. But I +took an utter dislike to the spirits and +listened with cold aloofness when Elizabeth +began, "I was talkin' to the spirit +of my young man larst night—"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know you had the spirit of +any young man," I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I 'ave. I mean Ned Akroyd, +'oo was drownded."</p> + +<p>Now I have never believed in the +alleged drowning of the said Ned. The +news—conveyed to Elizabeth by his +mate—that he had fallen from a ferry-boat +near Eel Pie Island seemed unconvincing, +especially as it happened shortly +after Elizabeth had lent him fifteen-and-six.</p> + +<p>"I 'ad quite a long talk with 'im," +she went on. "Next time I'm goin' to +arst 'im about the fifteen-and-six 'e +borrowed, an' see if I can't get it back +some'ow."</p> + +<p>How the spirit would have considered +this proposition is still uncertain, for +Elizabeth never returned to the séances. +She came to me one day in a state of +violent agitation. "I see Ned Akroyd +when I was out larst night," she began, +"an' would you believe it, 'e's no more +dead than I am, the wretch!"</p> + +<p>"Well, aren't you glad?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"Glad, an' 'im with another girl an' +pretendin' all the time not to see me! +Men are 'ounds, that's what they are. +An' I'll go to no more seeonces. They're +a swindle."</p> + +<p>"They were wrong about telling you +to change your habitation too, weren't +they?" I suggested insinuatingly.</p> + +<p>"Course they were." Suddenly her +face brightened. "I'll be able to 'ave +the grammerfone back now," she said.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>At the moment I am writing to the +sounds of <i>K-K-K-Katie</i>, which, I fear, is +giving me rather a syncopated style. +But if the Editor is k-k-k-kind he will +not banish me from <i>P-P-P-Punch</i> for +this reason, as anyone can see my intentions +are g-g-g-good.</p> + +<p>Stay! <i>K-K-K-Katie</i> has ceased and +I can think lucidly. An inspiration has +come to me. Has not Elizabeth in her +time wrought havoc among my crockery? +The hour is ripe for me to +retaliate.</p> + +<p>To morrow at dawn I shall examine +the gramophone records and—<i>they will +come in two in my hands</i>.</p> + +<p>It will be the first time I have broken +any record.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> +<a href="images/273.png"><img width="100%" src="images/273.png" alt="" /></a> + +<p><i>Wife</i> (<i>to husband being bundled in as train moves off</i>). "<span class="sc">Did ye get return tickets?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Husband.</i> "<span class="sc">Noa</span> (<i>puff</i>)—<span class="sc">didn't 'ave time.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote> +<h3>"MISUSE OF RESEARCH GRANTS.</h3> + +<p>By Professor ——, F.R.S."</p> + +<p><i>Sunday Paper Poster.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We refuse to believe it.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page274" id="page274"></a>[pg 274]</span> + +<h2><b>THE CONSPIRATORS.</b></h2> + +<h3>III.</h3> + + +<p><span class="sc">My dear Charles</span>,—Essential to that +millennium which our restless revolutionaries +are after is your head on a +charger and my head on a charger; provided +both heads are present it may +be the same charger for all they care. +When you think of the importance +which we of the detested middle classes +attach to our heads and the regrettable +violence we might exhibit towards whoever +called at our houses to collect them, +then it seems to me you must confess +to a sneaking admiration for the bravery +of the turbulent minority in attacking +so big a problem.</p> + +<p>But when you get the inside details +of their schemes you find that discretion +is not only the better part but +the whole of their valour. For arms +you find incendiary speeches; for ammunition, +viperish propaganda, and +for epoch-making action you have +nothing. In that "nothing" lies their +main ingenuity and strong hope. If +they can prevail on the masses to do +nothing, at the right moment, and to +go on doing nothing till there is nothing +left, then, say they, they will have +civilisation under; and if our heads +don't fall off of their own accord +then a thousand willing hands will be +stretched forward to pull them off.</p> + +<p>You ask me how I know all this. +Close the doors so that we cannot be +overheard, and I will tell you. I buy +their continental newspaper—"organ" +they prefer to call it, being rather +proud of the noise—and there I read +all that I want to know. It costs a +halfpenny a day, runs to six pages, is +well printed and brightly composed and +contains no advertisements. There is +generally a picture in thick black lines +in the centre of the first page. Blood +being the easy thing for the printer to +"feature," the picture generally deals +with the cutting off of heads. If it +refers to the past, you and I are cutting +off the worker's head, severing from a +fine muscular body a noble head with +a halo to it. If it refers to the future, +the worker is having our heads off, +severing from a fat and uncontrolled +corpus a most unpleasant excrescence +in a very shiny top-hat.</p> + +<p>To run a daily newspaper of that +"make-up," without advertisements +and for subscribers of whom the larger +number, like myself, omit to pay their +half-penny, is not easy business. In +fact it is not business at all. The +question being raised as to where the +money came from, the producers tried +to allay our suspicion by making a great +show of an appeal for help. The published +results, which I give you in +their English equivalent, were much +as follows:—</p> + +<table summary="" align="center" width="50%"> +<tr><td> </td><td valign="top">£ </td><td valign="top">s. </td><td valign="top"> d. </td></tr> +<tr><td>B. de M. </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top">6 </td><td valign="top"> 0 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Z. X. </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top">5 </td><td valign="top"> 0 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Idealist </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top">5 </td><td valign="top"> 0 </td></tr> +<tr><td>U. W. K. </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top">5 </td><td valign="top"> 0 </td></tr> +<tr><td>A Frenchman who is ashamed of France </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top">4 </td><td valign="top"> 6 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Young Communist </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top">4 </td><td valign="top"> 0 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Three young Communists </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top">3 </td><td valign="top"> 6 </td></tr> +<tr><td>"Great Britain" (collection) </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top">3 </td><td valign="top"> 3 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Disgusted </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top">2 </td><td valign="top"> 6 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Association of Women Fighters for Justice</td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top">2 </td><td valign="top"> 3 </td></tr> +<tr><td>O. F. </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top">1 </td><td valign="top"> 0 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Down with Capital </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top"> 9 </td></tr> +<tr><td>One Who will stick at Nothing </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top"> </td><td valign="top"> 3 </td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td valign="top">——</td><td valign="top">——</td><td valign="top">——</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td valign="top"> 2 </td><td valign="top"> 3</td><td valign="top"> 0 </td></tr> +<tr><td>Previous lists </td><td valign="top">14 </td><td valign="top"> 6</td><td valign="top"> 8-3/4</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td valign="top">——</td><td valign="top">——</td><td valign="top">——</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td valign="top">£16 </td><td valign="top"> 9</td><td valign="top"> 8-3/4</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>The grand total of sixteen pounds, +nine shillings and eight-pence three-farthings +shows a magnificent spirit, +but wouldn't keep much more than a +couple of square inches of the front +page alive for more than one day. +Reverting, then, to the more pressing +question of the removal of our heads, +who is paying for the operation?</p> + +<p>He is a heavy-built octopus sort of +man of about forty-seven; a red cheery +complexion, rather more fat than muscle, +long grey hair tending to curl at +the extremes, and followed about by a +lady who acts as his secretary, calls +him "Master" and adores the ground +he walks on. They are married, but +not, I should hasten to add, to each +other; none of your dull orthodox practices +for them. About his profile there +is an undeniable something which +makes his head a suggestive model for +sculpture. It is framed in a large, +white, soft silk collar, which falls gracefully +over the lapels of the coat and is, +I am told, of a mode much worn among +the <i>élite</i> of the anarchist and atheist +world.</p> + +<p>I've a friend here in the law-and-order +business who thought that, having reported +all the movements of this Master +of the Black Arts, he might find it +worth while to make his acquaintance +in the flesh. Indirect enquiry elicited +that the desire to get into touch was +reciprocated, the attentions of the police +being insufficient to satisfy his sense +of importance. So the meeting was +arranged, and I was allowed to come +along too.</p> + +<p>We were received in great state in a +special suite of the local hotel de luxe. +The Lady Secretary was there, overflowing +with "Masters" and "Sirs," +and obsessed by the fear that her idol +might not do himself justice in our +presence. A very touching instance of +human devotion: the fifth instance in +his case, I believe.</p> + +<p>This is the gentleman who finances +the propaganda of destruction; we +asked him if that was not so, and he +answered, "Why, of course." Had we +any fault to find with his protégé, the +admirable halfpenny daily? We had +noticed that its news was punctual and +exact. Then of what did we complain?</p> + +<p>"Of a certain exaggeration in the +leading articles," said I, rubbing the +back of my neck and wondering how +long it would be there to rub and I to +rub it.</p> + +<p>"But what newspaper leaders are +not exaggerated?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Your editors should not be paid to +twist everything into an irritant," I +protested.</p> + +<p>"Of which of your great English +dailies is the editor not paid to twist, +as you put it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>I knew that I had right on my side +and he had not. But still somehow I +seemed to be in the wrong all the way.</p> + +<p>So my friend took the matter in hand. +He didn't argue. He just drew his chair +up to the Master's and asked him to +tell us all about himself, how he came +by his great ideals, what was the future +of the world as he foresaw it and how +he meant to arrange the universe when +at length he took over?</p> + +<p>The Master, gently smiling his appreciation +of this recognition of his +Ego, gave voice.</p> + +<p>To the lady it was all, of course, +above criticism: sublime, adorable. To +me the frankness of it and the impudence +of it was, I confess, amusing.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The world is out of joint; how good 'twill be</p> +<p>When Heaven is sacked and leaves the job to me!</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>An agreeable, if wrong-headed, crank, +was my summary.</p> + +<p>And this or something like it was my +friend's:—"b. U.S.A. of Eng. parents, +9.5.78; tinned meat business, Chicago; +6 months' h.l. for frauds in connection +with packing; went to Mexico, but left +to avoid prosecution for similar frauds +on larger scale; prison in Belgium, +France and England in connection +with illegal dealings in rifles (? for +Germany); apparently liable to more +prison in U.S.A. for crime unknown, if +returns there; won't say where he gets +his money from, but doesn't seriously +pretend it is his own."</p> + +<p>And when I came to go back over +the Master's two hours' chat about +himself, those are about the facts it all +boiled down to.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Yours ever, <span class="sc">Henry</span>.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p style="text-align:center;text-indent:0;">(<i>To be continued.</i>)</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"£40.—Handsome Black Silk Golf Goat +(large size)."—<i>Irish Paper</i>. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>The very thing for the butting-green.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page275" id="page275"></a>[pg 275]</span> + +<h2><b>NIL DESPERANDUM</b>.</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:30%;"> +<a href="images/287-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/287-1.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>The Amateur Championship</i>.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Pott-Hunter, who failed to survive the first round</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:30%;"> +<a href="images/287-2.png"><img width="100%" src="images/287-2.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>The East of France Championship</i>.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Pott-Hunter in fatal difficulties in the second round</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:30%;"> +<a href="images/287-3.png"><img width="100%" src="images/287-3.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>The Championship of Central Switzerland</i>.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Pott-Hunter, defeated in the third round</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:30%;"> +<a href="images/287-4.png"><img width="100%" src="images/287-4.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>The Sicilian Championship</i>.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Pott-Hunter, who reached the fourth round</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:30%;"> +<a href="images/287-5.png"><img width="100%" src="images/287-5.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>The Championship of Mozambique</i>.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Pott-Hunter, a fifth round victim</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:30%;"> +<a href="images/287-6.png"><img width="100%" src="images/287-6.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>The Spitzbergen Championship</i>.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Pott-Hunter, one of the semi-finalists</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:30%;"> +<a href="images/287-7.png"><img width="100%" src="images/287-7.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>The Championship of Upper Senegal</i>.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Pott-Hunter, beaten in the final by Mr. Hunt-Pott</span>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:30%;"> +<a href="images/287-8.png"><img width="100%" src="images/287-8.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>The Tierra del Fuego Championship</i>.</p> +<p><span class="sc">The winner, Mr. Pott-Hunter</span>.</p> +</div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page276" id="page276"></a>[pg 276]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> +<a href="images/276.png"><img width="100%" src="images/276.png" alt="" /></a> +<p>"<span class="sc">Never you mind if 'e did say you'd got a neck +like a camel. 'Tain't nearly as long as all that</span>."</p> +</div> +<hr /> + +<h2><b>THE KORBAN BATH</b>.</h2> + +<p>[<i>Korban</i>—"It is a gift"—Hebrew (or some +such language).]</p> + +<p>With some reluctance I return to +the subject of baths. I went into the +matter of bathrooms pretty carefully a +few months ago, but since I have been +in this hotel I see that there are one +or two aspects of hotel bathing which +still require attention.</p> + +<p>To begin with, there is the question +of the Korban or free bath. It is, of +course, a scandal that a bath should be +an extra, and an eighteen-penny one at +that. After all, what is the bathroom +for? We are not charged extra for +smoking in the smoking-room or +drawing in the drawing-room; why +should we be bled for bathing in +the bathroom? At the same time +this practice does provide the +visitor with the wholesome sport +of Korban bathing. The object of +the game is, of course, to have as +many baths as possible which are +not put down in your bill; and +many are the stratagems which +are employed.</p> + +<p>The true sportsman attempts +the feat just before dinner, because +at that time there are sentries +posted in every corridor. Ostensibly +they are maids waiting to +assist any lady who has a crisis +while dressing, but no real pretence +is made that they are there +for any other purpose than to +charge you for as many baths as +possible. On my corridor there +is a post of no fewer than three +sentries, and it is extremely difficult +to evade them. The only +thing to do is to get to know three +nice ladies on the same floor and +arrange for them to have a dressing +crisis simultaneously and go +on having it for about a quarter-of-an-hour.</p> + +<p>This needs a good deal of organisation. +However smoothly the operation +begins, one of the dressing crises +nearly always collapses too soon, and +the sentry catches you on your return +journey.</p> + +<p>For the lady visitor the problem is +comparatively simple. I should mention +that it is a perfectly legitimate +manœuvre to get your bath put down +to somebody else if you can do it; and +the crack lady-player usually wraps +herself in an unobtrusive bath-wrap, +shrouds her head, modestly conceals +her face, slips into a friend's room to +borrow some Crème-Limon and, after +an interval, rushes noisily out of the +friend's room to her bath, which, with +any luck, is charged to her friend's +account.</p> + +<p>The beginner at the game contents +himself with less complicated ruses. +Sometimes he has his bath late at +night, when the sentries have been +taken off; but, as the lights go out <i>en masse</i> at +eleven, even this operation has +to be carefully timed. There is nothing +much gloomier than a bath by candle-light, +except perhaps a bath in the dark. +Hundreds, however, of both sorts are +endured in this hotel.</p> + +<p>The more brazen or the more timid +simply walk into the bathroom fully +dressed during the day, carrying a number +of dirty golf-balls in their hands, +and towels in their pockets and sponges +up their sleeves, and issue later fully +dressed with clean white golf-balls in +their hands. It is generally thought, +however, that this device is <i>just</i> a +little—I mean it's not exactly—<i>you</i> +know what I mean.</p> + +<p>The Korban Bath Rules will probably +remain unwritten for many a day, but I +earnestly hope that before next summer +the traditions and etiquette of bath-warfare +as between individual hotel-visitors +will be codified and issued in +an intelligible form. At the moment +the most extraordinary confusion prevails, +and no one can tell whether any +particular stratagem will be hailed with +applause as a bold and legitimate +operation of war or universally condemned +as a barefaced piece of bath-hoggery. +Recently, for example, an +extremely courteous, not to say gallant, +old gentleman was severely lectured +by a lady for digging himself in on the +mat and maintaining his position there +till she emerged. She stated with, I +think, considerable force that she had +passed the age when a lady likes to be +seen coming out of a bathroom with +disordered locks; she also said that he +was ruining her chance of a Korban +bath by drawing attention to the fact +that there was somebody inside.</p> + +<p>He replied with equal force that, +whenever he considerately withdrew +from the mat in order to let a lady +escape unseen, some less scrupulous +combatant (usually one of his +own daughters) immediately +rushed the position, and he was +not going to be had in that way +again, though as a matter of fact, +while they were arguing the matter +out, somebody actually did +this, so he was.</p> + +<p>Now what is the way out of +this dilemma? The only solution +I see is the Sponge System, by +which every competitor puts +down a sponge, as one puts down +a ball at the first tee. In this +way definite claims can be staked +out in rotation without congestion +of the avenues of approach. +I hope this system will be generally +adopted next summer and, if +it is used in conjunction with my +Progress Indicator (which shows +by a moving needle what stage +the person bathing has reached), +it ought to work very smoothly. +But there must be no hanky-panky, +no sharp practice with +caddies; every sponge must be +put down by one of the players +in person. And there must be +none of that regrettable collusion +between husband and wife which +has brought such discredit on the +present system.</p> + +<p>There was a very bad case of this +the other day. A certain wife used to +entrench herself in the bathroom early +and remain in it till her husband—a +heavy and persistent sleeper—arrived. +When you rattled angrily at the door-knob +she said very sharply, "Who is +that?"—in itself a sufficiently disturbing +thing. Even in the present days of +shamelessness and crime there are few +men who care to confess openly that +they have angrily rattled at the bathroom +door. If you said sheepishly, "It +is Smith" or "Thompson" or "Lord +Bumble," a heavy silence fell, broken +only by those gentle watery sounds +which it is so maddening to hear from +without. When her husband arrived +and answered the challenge with "It +is I, Arthur," sounds of feverish activity +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page277" id="page277"></a>[pg 277]</span> +were heard within, and a new bath +was immediately turned on.</p> + +<p>Casting all scruples to the winds, +seven desperate men rehearsed the password, +"It is I, Arthur;" seven desperate +men presented themselves in a single +morning and murmured lovingly, "It +is I, Arthur." None of them had a +bath. Seven times the good lady opened +the door and beheld Smith or Thompson +or Lord Rumble or nobody. And seven +times she bolted back into the burrow +again. She remained undefeated. Her +husband got his bath.</p> + +<p>I wonder what devilry she would be +up to under the Sponge System.</p> + +<p>A. P. H.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3><b>A Novelty from the Past.</b></h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">Antique</span>, over a hundred years old, oak +sideboard, brand new ... Apply after 6.30."</p> + +<p><i>Evening News</i>. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Surely after this candour there is no +help to be got out of the twilight hour.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Mr. Robert ——, who is now manager, +entered his late employer's service three or +four months after he commenced, and remained +with him until he gave up."</p> + +<p><i>Local Paper</i>. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>"They have their exits and their entrances"—the +former in this case being +the more satisfactory.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:70%;"> +<a href="images/277.png"><img width="100%" src="images/277.png" alt="" /></a> + +<p><i>Intending Purchaser</i> (<i>to Artist, who is selling his house</i>.)"<span class="sc">Did you put those figures on the walls</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Artist</i> (<i>modestly, though regarding them as a strong asset</i>.) "<span class="sc">Oh, yes—I—</span>"</p> +<p><i>Intending Purchaser</i>. "<span class="sc">Well, they don't really matter. A coat of whitewash would soon put that right</span>."</p> +</div> +<hr /> + +<h3>WHEN AND IF.</h3> + +<p>(<i>It is rumoured that Mr. <span class="sc">Balfour</span> is +shortly going to the House of Lords</i>.)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>When <span class="sc">Balfour</span> goes to the Lords—</p> +<p class="i2">For the Upper Chamber's adorning—</p> +<p>The Lower House, if it has any <i>nous</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">Will have solid reason for mourning;</p> +<p>For he has no axes to grind;</p> +<p class="i2">His strategy injures no man,</p> +<p>And his keen sword play in the thick of the fray</p> +<p class="i2">Is a joy to friend and foeman.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>When <span class="sc">Balfour</span> goes to the Lords,</p> +<p class="i2">To strengthen that gilded muster,</p> +<p>'Twill be sad and strange if he has to change</p> +<p class="i2">The name he has crowned with lustre;</p> +<p>For already there's "B. of B.,"</p> +<p class="i2">A baron of old creation;</p> +<p>And Whittingehame is an uncouth name</p> +<p class="i2">For daily pronunciation.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>If <span class="sc">Balfour</span> goes to the Lords,</p> +<p class="i2">Will the atmosphere, I wonder,</p> +<p>With the placid balm of its dreamful calm</p> +<p class="i2">Bring his nimble spirit under?</p> +<p>Or will he act on the Peers</p> +<p class="i2">Like an intellectual cat-fish,</p> +<p>Or startle their sleep with the flying leap</p> +<p class="i2">Of a Caribbean bat-fish?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>If <span class="sc">Balfour</span> goes to the Lords—</p> +<p class="i2">But can the Commons spare him?</p> +<p>Besides I'm sure that a coronet's lure</p> +<p class="i2">Is the very last thing to ensnare him;</p> +<p>And I'd rather see him undecked</p> +<p class="i2">With the gauds that merely glister,</p> +<p>In the selfsame box with <span class="sc">Pitt</span> and <span class="sc">Fox</span></p> +<p class="i2">And <span class="sc">Gladstone</span>—a simple Mister.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Still if he goes to the Lords,</p> +<p class="i2">Whatever, his style and title,</p> +<p>For the part he has played in his country's aid</p> +<p class="i2">'Twill be but a poor requital;</p> +<p>For he never once lost his nerve</p> +<p class="i2">When the outlook was most alarming,</p> +<p>And always remained, with shield unstained,</p> +<p class="i2">Prince <span class="sc">Arthur</span>, the good Prince Charming.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Mrs. Hawke would be glad to employ a +Wren for domestic work."</p> + +<p><i>Advt. in Daily Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Will she have to "live in"?</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"If it be true, as <span class="sc">Shelley</span> said, that 'a +thing of beauty is a joy for ever,' the good +people of Roydon are to be congratulated on +the new bridge over the River Stort."</p> + +<p><i>Local Paper</i>. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>But, supposing <span class="sc">Keats</span>, for instance, said +it, will that make any difference?</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page278" id="page278"></a>[pg 278]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> +<a href="images/278.png"><img width="100%" src="images/278.png" alt="" /></a> + +<p><i>Enlightened Minister</i>. "<span class="sc">I canna understand your objection to dancing, Mr. McTavish. We have biblical authority +for it. David himself danced</span>."</p> + +<p><i>Elder</i>. "<span class="sc">Ay, but no wi' a pairtner</span>."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2><b>PRISCILLA FAILS TO QUALIFY</b>.</h2> + +<p>"So it runned out of its little grassy +place and went all round the garden," +said Priscilla, emerging suddenly in +pink from under the table.</p> + +<p>"What are you playing at now, +Priscilla?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"I'm a little pussy-cat."</p> + +<p>"And what is this?" I asked, pointing +to the waste-paper basket which +she had planted beside my chair.</p> + +<p>"It's the pussy-cat's basket of milk. +It's to drink when she's firsty," she +explained.</p> + +<p>I sighed. It did not appear to me +that the child's education was proceeding +upon proper lines. I had been +reading portions of the diary of Miss +<span class="sc">Opal Whiteley</span>, written when she was +seven years old, a work which has just +lifted for America the Child-authoress +Cup. I had hoped to find in Priscilla +some faint signs that the laurels lost +by Miss <span class="sc">Daisy Ashford</span> might be +wrested back. The latest feature in +nursery autobiography, so far as I +could gather, was to have a profound +objective sympathy with vegetables +and a faculty for naming domestic animals +after the principal figures in classical +mythology. If you have these +gifts you get published by <i>The Atlantic +Monthly</i>, with a preface by Viscount +<span class="sc">Grey</span>. But I doubted whether Priscilla +had them. I thought I would try.</p> + +<p>"Priscilla," I said, "be a little girl +again and tell me what flower you like +best."</p> + +<p>"Woses."</p> + +<p>"What do the roses say to each +other when you aren't there?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they don't <i>say</i> anyfing," she +said with great contempt.</p> + +<p>This was bad.</p> + +<p>"Priscilla," I continued, "what do +you call the dog next-door?"</p> + +<p>"Bill," she said; "but it's runned +away."</p> + +<p>"There you are!" I exclaimed, turning +to the child's mamma. "Bill, indeed! +If she were being properly educated +she would be calling it Jupiter +Agamemnon Wilcox by now. Does she +ever speak to you at all of the star-gleams +amongst the cabbage-leaves?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think there are any star-gleams +amongst the cabbages in this +garden," she replied. "Only slugs."</p> + +<p>"I don't care," I said; "the fact +remains that Priscilla ought to be constantly +wondering what the cabbages +do say to each other when they have +lonesome feels at night."</p> + +<p>"Priscilla," I began again, "in about +three years you will be seven years old +and quite a big girl. What will you +play at then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I san't play at all," she said. "I sall go visiting and sopping."</p> + +<p>"Anything else?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I sall have a knife."</p> + +<p>"A pocket-knife?"</p> + +<p>"No, not a pocket-knife, a knife to cut meat wiv, of course."</p> + +<p>I had forgotten this goal of maidenly +desires.</p> + +<p>"And won't you go long walks in the +big woods with me and tell me the +names of all the flowers and what they +are thinking about?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied rather doubtfully. +"Are there beasts in the woods?"</p> + +<p>"Only rabbits, I think."</p> + +<p>"We must be very careful, then, 'cos +they're <i>very</i> wild creatures, aren't +they?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not <i>very</i> wild."</p> + +<p>"Will you buy a gun at the gun-sop +and soot them and we take them home +and eat them?"</p> + +<p>Bless the child, I thought, there +seems to be no getting her away from +this eating business.</p> + +<p>"Priscilla," I began again, "in the +woods there is a great big lake, with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page280" id="page280"></a>[pg 280]</span> +trees and rushes all round it, and there +are water-lilies floating about and +forget-me-nots at the edge."</p> + +<p>Now, I thought, we shall perhaps +have something about the lullaby songs +of the trees and the willow that does +sing by the creek.</p> + +<p>"Are there fiss in the lake?" inquired +Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "beautiful shining fish."</p> + +<p>"And sall we catch the fiss and put +them on the fire?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose we might," I admitted.</p> + +<p>"And will they sizzle?"</p> + +<p>"Araminta," I said, "the child is +hopeless. She has no soul. She will +never be a great authoress. The Cup +must remain in Oregon, and Priscilla +will never tell the world how the wind +did go walking in the field, talking to +the earth voices, with a preface by Sir +<span class="sc">Auckland Geddes</span> or Lord <span class="sc">Reading</span>. +She thinks about nothing but her food."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you had better try again +after she's said her prayers," suggested +Araminta. "She may be feeling a little +more soulful then."</p> + +<p>I attended the ceremony, which was +performed with the utmost decorum and +gravity. When it was ended Priscilla +looked up.</p> + +<p>"I said them very somnly and in +rarver a low voice, didn't I?" she +announced, and then went off into +gurgles of laughter.</p> + +<p>I determined to make one last despairing +effort.</p> + +<p>"Priscilla," I asked, "which of your +books do you like the best?"</p> + +<p>"<i>The Gobbly Goblin</i>," she said.</p> + +<p>"Araminta," I cried, "I give it up. +She has no bent for literature. There +can never have been any great authoress, +young or old, who started with such a +materialistic mind."</p> + +<p>"You forget Mrs. Beeton," she replied.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Evoe</span>.</p> +<hr /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page279" id="page279"></a>[pg 279]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:70%;"> + <a href="images/279.png"><img width="100%" src="images/279.png" alt="" /></a> + +<h3>THE EXPERTS.</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">Asquith</span>. "GIVE HIM HIS HEAD!"</p> +<p><span class="sc">Grey</span>. "TELL HIM YOU'LL CUT THE STRING IN A COUPLE OF YEARS!"</p> +<p><span class="sc">Morley</span>. "WHAT YOU WANT IS A MORE POWERFUL SANITY!"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>COLD COMFORT.</h3> + +<p>(<i>It is stated that <span class="sc">M. Kameneff</span>, on his +return to Russia, having fallen out of +favour with the Soviet Government, +has been appointed Commissar at +Taganrog</i>.)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Upon the mighty wheels of life</p> +<p class="i2">I'm but a very little cog,</p> +<p>And, when engaged in active strife,</p> +<p class="i2">Always the under-dog.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>No honours yet have come to me</p> +<p class="i2">(My name is Ebenezer Blogg);</p> +<p>I haven't got an O.B.E.</p> +<p class="i2">Nor yet the Dannebrog.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A taxi-man the other night</p> +<p class="i2">Called me a measly little frog;</p> +<p>It's true that in respect of height</p> +<p class="i2">I can't compare with <span class="sc">Og</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>At school I was the whipping-boy</p> +<p class="i2">Whom every master used to flog,</p> +<p>Although I took no stealthy joy</p> +<p class="i2">In pipes or cards or grog.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The only time that I bestrode</p> +<p class="i2">A horse, like <i>Gilpin</i> all agog,</p> +<p>The creature bolted from the road</p> +<p class="i2">And plunged me in a bog.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I never learned to sing or dance,</p> +<p class="i2">To bowl or bat, to stick or slog;</p> +<p>The only time I crossed to France</p> +<p class="i2">I struck a Channel fog.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I'm old and poor and rather deaf;</p> +<p class="i2">I'm often very short of prog;</p> +<p>Yet still I grudge not <span class="sc">Kameneff</span></p> +<p class="i2">His post at Taganrog.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/280.png"><img width="100%" src="images/280.png" alt="" /></a> + +<p><i>First Bookie</i>. "<span class="sc">I must 'ave taken two 'undred quid to-day. Marvellous! I can't think where the money comes from</span>."</p> + +<p><i>Second Bookie</i>. "<span class="sc">From me mostly</span>."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h3><b>Our Modest Advertisers.</b></h3> + +<p>"To be Sold, small unexceptionally attractive +gentleman's Residential Estate."</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>There was an American "<span class="sc">Daisy</span>"</p> +<p>Whose Diary set people crazy;</p> +<p class="i2">Some called it a fake—</p> +<p class="i2">A most venial mistake,</p> +<p>For Opals are apt to be hazy.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page281" id="page281"></a>[pg 281]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> +<a href="images/281.png"><img width="100%" src="images/281.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>Humble Guest</i> (<i>at Profiteer's castle</i>). "<span class="sc">What the deuce is this?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Magnificent Flunkey.</i> "<span class="sc">The temperature of your bath-water, Sir.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2><b>THE MINISTRY FOR HEROES.</b></h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><i>January 1st, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To the Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>When demobilised on 5th November +last I applied for a disability pension. +Having received no official communication +on the subject, may I inquire, +please, how the matter stands?</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">M. C. Broke</span>, <i>Capt.</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>February 1st, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To Lieut. C. M. Broke.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>I am to acknowledge receipt of your +letter of 1/1/20, and to say that you +will receive a further communication +from this Department in due course.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Cuthbert Rutt</span>,</p> +<p>for Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>March 1st, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To the Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><i>Re</i> your letter of February 1st, may +I inquire how the matter now stands, +please? (My rank, by the way, is +captain, and my initials are "M. C." +not "C. M." I hope you won't mind +me mentioning it.)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">M. C. Broke</span>, <i>Capt.</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>April 1st, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To Mr. M. Brake.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>I am to acknowledge receipt of your +letter of 1/3/20 and to request that you +will be good enough to state the date +upon which you last received a payment +on account of your pension.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Cuthbert Rutt</span>,</p> +<p>for Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>April 2nd, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To the Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Replying to your inquiry of yesterday, +I have not received any payment—not +a bond, not a rouble, not a bean. +That, between ourselves, was my idea +in initiating this interesting correspondence.</p> + +<p>May I direct your attention to my +signature?</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">M. C. Broke</span>, <i>Capt.</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>May 10th, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To Second-Lieut. J. Brooke.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Your letter dated 2/4/20 has been +duly received. I am to ask whether +you are (<i>a</i>) demobilised; (<i>b</i>) disembodied; +or (<i>c</i>) still serving?</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Cuthbert Rutt</span>,</p> +<p>for Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>May 11th, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To the Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>I was so glad to hear yesterday that +my letter of the 2nd of last month +had been duly received. I was beginning +to get quite anxious about it. +In reply to your inquiry I have the +honour to state (again) that I was +(<i>a</i>) demobilised. I mentioned this, you +know, last January. But perhaps you +have forgotten? It is rather a long +while ago.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">M. C. Broke</span>, <i>Capt.</i></p> + </div> </div> + +<p>P.S.—I don't mind a bit how you +spell my name and all that. But our +postman is getting wild. And you +know what workers are.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><i>June 30th, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To Mr. C. Bink.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>I am directed to acknowledge your +letter of 11/5/20. In order to facilitate +this Department's investigations into +your claim, please say if you are in +possession of Army Form Z.3.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Cuthbert Rutt</span>,</p> +<p>for Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>July 1st, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To the Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Yes, I am in possession of Army +Form Z.3. I do hope this will facilitate +your Department's investigations. Not +for my sake. But I enclose last quarter's +accounts from my landlord, butcher, +baker, etc. Perhaps you will be good +enough to guarantee my credit? You +know how impatient these vulgar +fellows are.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">M. C. Broke</span>, <i>Capt.</i></p> + </div> </div> + +<p>P.S.—I think I like "Bink" the least +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page282" id="page282"></a>[pg 282]</span> +of my new names. But perhaps you will +think of a better one for my next letter.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><i>August 1st, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To Mr. M. Brooks.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Your letter of 1/7/20 has been duly +received, and I am to inquire whether +you submitted a claim for disability +pension at the time of your demobilisation. +If so, please state date.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Cuthbert Rutt</span>,</p> +<p>for Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>August 2nd, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To the Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>With reference to your letter of yesterday, +the answer is in the affirmative. +By the way I think we went into that +little matter too last January. But, +of course, you can't think of everything. +Excuse me mentioning it. Do you +think you could get my pension through +by the 30th inst? It is my birthday, +and I would like to have my boots soled +and heeled.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">M. C. Broke</span>, <i>Capt.</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>August 30th, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To Mr. N. Brock.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>With reference to your application for +disability pension I am to request that +you will furnish this Department with a +full statement of the circumstances under +which you were wounded, giving the +following particulars:—Christian and +surname (in block letters); regiment; +whether (<i>a</i>) demobilised; (<i>b</i>) disembodied; +or (<i>c</i>) still serving; whether +(<i>a</i>) shot; (<i>b</i>) bayoneted; (<i>c</i>) gassed; +(<i>d</i>) shell-shocked; or (<i>e</i>) drowned; +Christian and surname (in block letters) +of batman, stretcher-bearers and O.i/c +hospital ship.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Cuthbert Rutt</span>,</p> +<p>for Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>September 8th, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To the Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Under medical advice I am to cease +corresponding with your admirable Department. +It seems a pity, since we +have got to know each other so well. I +have decided therefore to place the +matter in the hands of the Miners' +Federation. I do not think I have mentioned +the fact before, but I was employed +as a miner when I joined up in '14.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">M. C. Broke</span>, <i>Capt.</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>September 9th, 1920.</i></p> +<p>To Captain M. C. Broke.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>I am directed to inform you that you +have been awarded a disability pension +at the rate of five hundred pounds per +annum. A draft for the amount due, +including arrears from 5/11/19—date of +disembodiment or demobilisation—was +despatched to your address this morning +per King's Messenger.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I have the honour to be, Sir,</p> +<p>Your humble and obedient Servant,</p> +<p><span class="sc">Cuthbert Rutt</span>,</p> +<p>for Ministry of Pensions.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/282.png"><img width="100%" src="images/282.png" alt="" /></a> + +<h3>"ONE CROWDED HOUR OF GLORIOUS LIFE."</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">A bit of tobacco-ash in your eye, your reel jammed, one of your legs through +a loop of your line and the biggest salmon you ever saw on the other end of it.</span></p> +<hr /> + +<h3><b>NEW RHYMES FOR OLD CHILDREN.</b></h3> + +<h4><span class="sc">The Glow-worm.</span></h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The little glow-worm sits and glows</p> +<p class="i2">As brilliant as the stars,</p> +<p>But you are wrong if you suppose</p> +<p class="i2">That he will light cigars.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>In fact, he seems to be exempt</p> +<p class="i2">From Nature's general plan;</p> +<p>He never makes the least attempt</p> +<p class="i2">To be of use to Man.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And if you think that it requires</p> +<p class="i2">A scientific brain</p> +<p>To understand his tiny fires</p> +<p class="i2">Then you are wrong again.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The meaning of his shininess</p> +<p class="i2">Is fairly clear to me;</p> +<p>It is intended to impress</p> +<p class="i2">The future Mrs. G.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>No doubt you think it is his nose</p> +<p class="i2">Which gleams across the glen;</p> +<p>Well, it is not; the part that glows</p> +<p class="i2">Is on the abdomen.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And very likely that explains</p> +<p class="i2">Why all these millionaires</p> +<p>Buy such expensive shiny chains</p> +<p class="i2">To hang about on theirs.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<h5>* * * * *</h5> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The Editor who read these lines</p> +<p class="i2">Has quite a different tale;</p> +<p>He says it is the <i>she</i> that shines</p> +<p class="i2">To captivate the male.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He has a perfect right to doubt</p> +<p class="i2">The statements in this song,</p> +<p>But if he thinks I'll scratch them out</p> +<p class="i2">He's absolutely wrong.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A. P. H.</p> + </div> </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/283.png"><img width="100%" src="images/283.png" alt="" /></a> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Whatever will you do, grandpa, when you're too old for gardening?</span>"</p> +<p>"<span class="sc">I expect I'll start golf. But I hope I shan't live as long as that.</span>"</p> +</div> +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page283" id="page283"></a>[pg 283]</span> + +<h2><b>FOR OURSELVES ALONE.</b></h2> + +<p>Our hostess had taken us over to "Sheltered End," the +pleasant country home of Mrs. Willoughby Brock, to play +tennis. As however there was only one court and quite a +number of young and middle-aged people were standing near +it with racquets in their hands and an expression on their +faces in which frustration and anticipation fought for supremacy, +it followed that other beguilements had to be found. +My own fate was to fall into the hands of Mrs. Brock, whose +greatest delight on earth seems to be to have a stranger to +whom she can display the beauties of her abode and enlarge +upon the unusual qualities of her personality. She showed +and told me all. We explored the estate from the dog-kennel +to the loggia for sleeping out "under the stars;" from the +pergola to the library; from the sundial to the telephone, +"the only one for miles;" and as we walked between the +purple and mauve Michaelmas daisies in her long herbaceous +borders, with Red +Admiral butterflies +among the myriad +little clean blossoms, +she said how odd it +was that some people +have the gift of +attracting friends +and others not; and +what a strange thing +it is that where one +person has to toil to +make a circle others +are automatically +surrounded by nice +creatures; and asked +me if I had any views +as to the reason, but +did not pause for the +reply.</p> + +<p>It was a warm +mellow day—almost +the first of summer, +according to one's +senses, although +nearly the last, according +to the calendar—and +Mrs. Brock +was so happy to be +in a monologue that I could enjoy the garden almost without +interruption. For a two and a half years' existence it certainly +was a triumph. Here and there a reddening apple +shone. The hollyhocks must have been ten feet high.</p> + +<p>"Ah! here comes the dear Vicar," said Mrs. Brock suddenly, +and, rising up from a rose which I was inhaling (and I wish +that people would grow roses, as they used to do years ago, +nose-high), I saw a black figure approaching.</p> + +<p>"He is such a charming man," Mrs. Brock continued, +"and devoted to me."</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon," said the Vicar. "How exquisite those +delphiniums are!" he added after introductions were complete; +"such a delicate blue! I should not have intruded +had I known you had a party"—he waved his hand towards +the single tennis-court, around which the wistful +racquet-bearers were now (as it seemed) some thousands +strong, "but it is always a pleasure"—he turned to me—"to +be able to walk in this paradise on a fine day and +appreciate its colour and its fragrance. I find Mrs. Brock +so valuable a parochial counsellor too."</p> + +<p>"I think," I said, not in the least unwilling to be tactful, +"I will see what the rest of our party are doing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said the Vicar; "please don't let me drive you +away. As a matter of fact, since there are so many here I +won't stay myself. But I wonder," he addressed Mrs. +Brock, "as I am here, if I might use your telephone for a +moment?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said she.</p> + +<p>"Thank you so much," he replied; "yes, I know where +it is," and with a genial and courtly salutation he moved +off in the direction of the house.</p> + +<p>"Such a true neighbour!" said Mrs. Brock. "Ah! and +here is another," she went on. And along the same path, +where the Michaelmas daisies were thickest, I saw a massive +woman in white, like a ship in full sail, bearing down upon +us, defending her head from the gentle September sun with +a red parasol. "This," Mrs. Brock hurriedly informed me, +"is Lady Cranstone, who lives in the house with the green +shutters at the end of the village. Such a dear person! +She's always in and out. The widow of the famous scientist, +you know."</p> + +<p>I didn't know; but +what does it matter?</p> + +<p>By this time the +dear person was +within hailing distance, +but she flew +no signals of cordiality; +her demeanour +rather was austere +and arrogant. Mrs. +Brock hurried towards +her to assist +her to her moorings, +and I was duly presented.</p> + +<p>"I didn't intend +to come in again +to-day," said Lady +Cranstone, whose +features still successfully +failed to give to +the stranger any indication +of the benignity +that, it was +suggested, irradiated +her being.</p> + +<p>"But you are always +so welcome," +said Mrs. Brock. "Lady Cranstone," she continued to me, +"is kindness itself. She makes all the difference between +loneliness and—and content."</p> + +<p>Lady Cranstone picked a rose and pinned it in her monumental +bosom. "I don't know that I had anything in +particular to say," she remarked. "I chanced to be passing +and I merely looked in; but since I am here perhaps you +would allow me to use your telephone—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brock beamed her delighted acquiescence and the +frigate sailed on. "You've no idea," said Mrs. Brock, "what +a friendly crowd there is in these parts. I don't know how +it is, but this little place of mine, modest though it is, and +unassuming and unclever as I am, is positively the very +centre of the district. It's like a club-house. How strange +life is! What curious byways there are in human sympathy!"</p> + +<p>This being the kind of remark that is best replied to +with an inarticulate murmur, I provided an inarticulate +murmur; and I was about to make a further and more +determined effort to get away when a maid-servant approached +with a card.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brock took it and read the name with a little cry of +satisfaction. "Lord Risborough," she said to me. "At +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page284" id="page284"></a>[pg 284]</span> +last! How nice of him to call. They live at Risborough +Park, you know. I always said they would never condescend +to dignify 'Sheltered End' with their presence; +but I somehow knew they would." She purred a little. +And then, "Where is his lordship?" she asked; but the +girl's reply was rendered unnecessary by the nobleman +himself, who advanced briskly upon Mrs. Brock, hat in hand.</p> + +<p>"I trust," he said, "that you will pardon the informality +of this visit. Lady Risborough is so sorry not to have been +able to call yet, but—but—Yes, I was wondering if you'd +be so very kind as to do me a little favour? The fact is, +our telephone is out of order—most annoying—and I +wondered if you would let me use yours. I hear that you +have one."</p> + +<p>"I will take you to it," said Mrs. Brock.</p> + +<p>"Most kind, most kind!" his lordship was muttering.</p> + +<p>There was no difficulty in making my escape now.</p> + +<p>E. V. L.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/284.png"><img width="100%" src="images/284.png" alt="" /></a> + +<p>"<span class="sc">I do hope you'll be able to come to the Mothers' Welfare meeting on Wednesday. We've persuaded a famous +chef to come and give us a lecture on 'The Decay of Cookery.' It should be most helpful.</span>"</p> +<p>"<span class="sc">Not to me, Mum. I allus gives mine to the pigs when it gets that far.</span>"</p> +</div> +<hr /> + +<p>Mr. Punch desires to express his sincere regret for an +injustice done, though without malice, to the Publishers +(Messrs. <span class="sc">Sweet and Maxwell</span>) and the Editor of <i>Williams' +Real Property</i>, in an article that appeared in the issue of +August 18th, under the title, "Blewitt on Real Property." +The new edition of <i>Williams' Real Property</i> contains a large +amount of fresh material and represents considerable labour +spent over the careful revision of the previous edition.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"At 1 a.m., uninterrupted rifle fire and bomb explosions were audible. +It is reported that a French officer was then addressing the crowd." +<i>Times of Malaya.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Our old sergeant-major must look to his laurels.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE PEERLESS PROVINCIAL.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +[A London paper learns from a West End tailor that many people +in the North and Midlands now achieve a higher standard of dress +than the "man about town."] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>If perchance you would gaze upon those whose array's</p> +<p class="i2">Of impeccable texture and cut,</p> +<p>It is futile to go to Pall Mall or the Row,</p> +<p class="i2">Now the haunt of the second-rate nut;</p> +<p>Take a train (G.N.R.), for example, as far</p> +<p class="i2">As Cleckheaton or Cleethorpes-on-Sea,</p> +<p>Where each male that you meet, from his head to his feet,</p> +<p class="i2">Follows Fashion's most recent decree.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A legitimate claim to sartorial fame</p> +<p class="i2">Can be made by the locals at Leek,</p> +<p>Whose apparel is apt to be ruthlessly scrapped</p> +<p class="i2">After having been worn for a week;</p> +<p>Trousers bag at the knees in no town on the Tees,</p> +<p class="i2">And the Londoner has to admit</p> +<p>That he cannot compete against Bootle's <i>élite</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">And that Percy of Pudsey is <span class="sc">it</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Wigan's well in the van, for her sons to a man</p> +<p class="i2">Are the ultimate word in cravats</p> +<p>And are said to outdo even Cheadle and Crewe</p> +<p class="i2">In the matter of collars and spats;</p> +<p>But the pick of the lot is the privileged spot</p> +<p class="i2">Where the smart set, the quite <i>comme il faut</i>,</p> +<p>Have a mentor and guide who is famed far and wide</p> +<p class="i2">As Bertie the Bridlington Beau.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page285" id="page285"></a>[pg 285]</span> + +<h3>THE PASSING OF ALFRED.</h3> + +<p>Alfred is dead and with him has gone +John's last efforts at making and training +pets. It has simply been one disappointment +after another. There was +Charles the monkey. Charles could +write his own name with a pen and +digest the creamiest shaving-stick without +making a lather. There was Joey, +the billy-goat, such an entertaining +fellow, who could pick up and set down +anything with his horns from a basket +to a dustman. And then there was +Livo—immortal Livo. There never +was such a down-at-heel and unscrupulous +young ruffian of a mongrel terrier as +Livo, nor one that more completely convinced +people that he was a gentleman +of blood and a pure-souled spiritualist.</p> + +<p>Of course there were heaps of other +pets as well, but just as they seemed +about to reach that stage of human intelligence +so earnestly desired by their +young master they all suddenly died, +even as Alfred, the last of a long list, +gave up the ghost yesterday.</p> + +<p>Alfred was a trout. Not your ordinary +fly-jumping kind of trout, because there +is never anything ordinary about John's +pets. Alfred, for instance, had not lived +in water for three months. He simply +had no use for the stuff, and, as for +jumping at a fly, his nerves were far +too good for that sort of thing.</p> + +<p>His attachment to John was complete. +He would take food from no +one else and the presence of his eight-year-old +master in the long grass was +sufficient to bring him erect on his tail, +where he would wag his fins and make +strange noises in cordial welcome. In +many respects he was the most superior +pet John has ever had. He could affect +boredom and his exhibition of the glad +eye was considered by John's eldest +sister to be positively deadly. It is, in +fact, true to say that his keen desire to +adopt as many human habits as possible +often led us to mistake him for +one of ourselves.</p> + +<p>John, however, was not quite satisfied +with his pupil until one bright +morning last week when Alfred displayed +the first signs of having acquired +the Directional Wriggle. Strange as +it may sound, this very human trout +actually wriggled after John for a distance +of five yards. Three days later +he pursued his master to the village +post-office and beat him by a short gill.</p> + +<p>Yesterday, however, Alfred excelled +himself. John had left early for the +stream, and being in a hurry took +advantage of the thin plank crossing. +Now the plank is very slippery and had +been placed over the spot where the +stream is deepest. John crossed it +carefully enough, but looking back for +a second he suddenly noticed that Alfred +was following him. Before he could +raise his voice in protest the trout had +mounted the plank and was wriggling +across it. Then, horror of horrors! in +the middle of the plank the wretched +fish suddenly lurched, lost its footing, +plunged into the water and was +drowned.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>FLOWERS' NAMES.</h3> + +<h4><span class="sc">What the Fairies Wear</span>.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>If only you walk with an open ear</p> +<p class="i2">And watch with an open eye,</p> +<p>There's wonderful magic to see and hear</p> +<p class="i2">By silently passing by;</p> +<p>In meadows and ditches, here and there,</p> +<p>You'll find the clothes that the fairies wear.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>You can see each golden and silvery frock</p> +<p>In Lady's Mantle and Ladysmock;</p> +<p>There's Lady's Garter (which, I suppose,</p> +<p>They wear with the cowslips called Hose-in-hose);</p> +<p>The solemn fairies who ride on owls</p> +<p>Shroud their faces with Monkswood cowls;</p> +<p>And there's other things besides fairy dresses—</p> +<p>There's Lady's Mirror and Lady's Tresses.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Bachelors' Buttons must be for elves</p> +<p>Who have to do up their clothes themselves;</p> +<p>And the tailor fairies use Fairy Shears,</p> +<p>Long cutting-grasses that grow by meres;</p> +<p>And they mend their things with the Spider-stitches,</p> +<p>Faint white flowers that you find in ditches,</p> +<p>And Shepherd's Needle, which you'll see plain</p> +<p>In every meadow and field and lane;</p> +<p>And when they've used them they grow again.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>If only you walk with an open ear</p> +<p class="i2">And watch with an open eye,</p> +<p>There's wonderful secrets to see and hear</p> +<p class="i2">By silently passing by;</p> +<p>In meadows and ditches, here and there,</p> +<p>You'll find the clothes that the fairies wear;</p> +<p>And if you look when they think you've gone</p> +<p>Perhaps you'll see them trying them on.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The whole of the United States is intensely +interested in a baseball scandal revealed a few +days ago.</p> + +<p>The Grand Judy, which is now investigating +the charge, has already indicted eight of the +leading players."—<i>Evening Paper</i>. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Mr. Punch wishes his old consort more +power to her elbow.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>ROBBERY IN COURT.</h3> + +<p>There would seem to be some need +for watchfulness in our Courts of Justice +lest the customs and privileges which +to so great an extent have made them +what they are should be allowed to +lapse.</p> + +<p>A great sensation was caused throughout +the legal profession the other day +when it was reported in the Press that +a witness, in giving evidence, made the +following remark:—"It goes in one ear +and out of the other. Perhaps that +is because there is nothing to stop it." +The report stated that laughter followed, +and, if that was indeed the case, +then we have no hesitation whatever +in characterising it as a most unseemly +outburst.</p> + +<p>If witnesses are to be permitted with +impunity to snatch out of the Judge's +mouth the jokes which naturally arise +out of their evidence, our whole judicial +system will be imperilled. In offering +an explanation as to why "it goes in +one ear and out of the other," the +witness committed a grave breach of +etiquette. That explanation, if made +at all, should have been made by the +Judge in the first place. Or if, after +due opportunity had been given, his +Lordship showed no desire to avail +himself of the opening, then the privilege +should have fallen to the examining +counsel. If he in turn waived it, it +should have been open to counsel on +the other side to snap up the chance.</p> + +<p>We fail to understand how such a +remark, coming from a witness, could +have been allowed to pass without +rebuke from the Judge or protest from +the counsel, or some attempt at least +to maintain order on the part of the +usher.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE CHANTRY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Grey dust lies on his battered face;</p> +<p class="i2">The glories of his shield are dim;</p> +<p>Half vanished are the words of grace</p> +<p class="i2">Beseeching pity and peace for him</p> +<p class="i4">Along the Purbeck rim.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>His hands are folded palm to palm</p> +<p class="i2">(Some fingers lacking on the right),</p> +<p>And at his peakéd feet the calm</p> +<p class="i2">Old lion shows he fell in fight,</p> +<p class="i4">As best became a knight.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The ivy shakes its tattered leaves</p> +<p class="i2">Where once he saw the painted pane;</p> +<p>The brooding, scurrying spider weaves</p> +<p class="i2">Where cloth of damask dyed in grain</p> +<p class="i4">Will never hang again.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>With missal propped upon his helm</p> +<p class="i2">For him no drowsy chantor pleads;</p> +<p>But blackbirds in the darkening elm</p> +<p class="i2">Sing plain-song, and the Abbey meads</p> +<p class="i4">Retell their daisy-beads.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>D. M. S.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page286" id="page286"></a>[pg 286]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/286.png"><img width="100%" src="images/286.png" alt="" /></a> + +<p><i>Lady</i>. <span class="sc">"And why did you leave your last situation?"</span></p> +<p><i>Prospective Maid</i>. <span class="sc">"Well, that's a bit inquisitive, ain't it, Mum? I didn't ask you why your last girl left you."</span>]</p> +</div> +<hr /> + +<h2><b>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE</b>.</h2> + +<p style="text-align:center;text-indent:0;">(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks</i>.)</p> + +<p>I am as a rule very strongly against the form of pedantry +that hastens to cry "imitation" whenever a new writer +finds himself impelled to a theme of the same character as +that already associated with an old-established practitioner. +But in the case of <i>The Lost Horizon</i> (<span class="sc">Methuen</span>) I find +myself overwhelmed. Consciously or unconsciously Mr. G. +<span class="sc">Colby Borley</span> has produced a story that in matter and +treatment is so palpably a reflection of <span class="sc">Joseph Conrad</span> +that the likeness simply refuses to be ignored. It is in its +way a good story enough—an affair of adventure in South +America and on the high seas, with a generous sufficiency of +oaths and blood-letting; a tale moreover that gives evidence +(in spite of that distressing echo) of being written by one +who takes his craft with a becoming dignity of purpose. +One peculiarity of the Master has not only been borrowed +by Mr. <span class="sc">Borley</span>, but exaggerated to his own undoing: I +mean the trick of introducing a character or group of characters +so clogged and obscured by the adhesions of the +uncommunicated past that not till this has been gradually +flaked from them do they emerge as figures in whom it is +possible to take an intelligent interest. In the present +instance this process is delayed for more than half the book. +As for the intrigue, that concerns a group of cut-throat +Europeans, who, having been ruinously involved in a South +American revolution, are now further plunged into the plots +of a scoundrelly African magnate and his conspiratorial +gang. For myself, I parted from them all with a feeling of +regret that they had not explained themselves earlier as the +entertaining villains that they turned out to be.</p> + +<p><i>Manhood End</i> (<span class="sc">Hurst and Blackett</span>) is the title, not +very cheery, that Mrs. <span class="sc">Henry Dudeney</span> has given to her +latest novel, a simple and quite human story of country +vicarage life, told sympathetically, but in too many words +for so slight a theme. The publishers are at the wholly +superfluous pains of urging you as a preliminary to read the +"turn-over of cover." Don't! All you will find there is a +synopsis of the plot, just sufficient to destroy the slender +thread of your interest in its development. And I must +record a protest against the entirely unneeded Prologue, in +which total strangers sit round at a churchyard picnic on +the graves of the real protagonists, and speculate as to their +history. The tale itself is placed in Sussex (why this +invidious partiality of our novelists?), the actors being for +the most part clerical. The main interest is centred in +the matrimonial trials of the <i>Rev. Frederick Rainbird</i>, +whose bride, having married him in haste, repented at +leisure, eloped with the promising brother of a neighbouring +parson, repented more, returned to domesticity, ran away +again, and so on, <i>da capo</i>. Perhaps really these simple but +not short annals have a flavour that I have failed to convey. +Mrs. <span class="sc">Dudeney</span> writes easily, but should avoid the snares +of originality. To say of her heroine's morning appearance +at the breakfast table, that she "stood in the tangle of a +delicious coffee smell," may convey an impression, but at a +ruinous expense of style.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>Michael Winter</i>, hero of <i>The Black Knight</i> (<span class="sc">Hutchinson</span>), +by Mrs. <span class="sc">Alfred Sidgwick</span> and <span class="sc">Crosbie Garstin</span>, had led a +nice easy life till his father's nefarious schemes crashed, +bringing down in a common ruin half the small investors +in the country. Left penniless, he changes his disgraced +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page287" id="page287"></a>[pg 287]</span> +name and goes out to Canada to make good. There, on the +prairies, he puts in some hard honest work. But, in his +haste to be rich, the <i>Black Knight</i>, as they do in chess, +after moving straight, moved obliquely. In order to make +a coup out of a Wall Street cinch he helped himself to the +money of the bank of which he was cashier. Other people +who shall be nameless have done this sort of thing +before, and, after returning the "borrowed" cash, have +enjoyed a stainless prosperity. But <i>Michael</i>, through a +motor-car accident, just failed to put it back in time, and +had to do two years. But he had made a fortune, and on +emerging from prison returned to Europe to enjoy it. +There he rescues an innocent English girl from a shady +Parisian environment and marries her. By chance she +learns the secret of the source of his wealth and leaves him. +In order to appease her +scruples and recover her he +signs away his goods for the +benefit of his father's creditors. +What might have +been a too sugary conclusion +is saved by a pleasant touch +of corrective irony in the very +last line, where his wife expresses +a very human satisfaction +on finding that her +best necklace was not included +in the noble sacrifice. +I hope I shall not be suspected +of flattering Mr. +Punch's "<span class="sc">Patlander</span>" if I +admire the excellence of the +Canadian section, obviously +contributed by Mr. <span class="sc">Crosbie +Garstin</span>, who has knocked +about most of the world +marked red on the maps. +Here his humour and vitality +are at their keenest. The +rest of a well-told tale I +attribute to Mrs. <span class="sc">Alfred +Sidgwick</span>, with the exception +of a pugilistic episode, for +which I imagine that the +male fist was called in to +supplement her proper inexperience.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/300.png"><img width="100%" src="images/300.png" alt="" /></a> + +<p>"<span class="sc">My dear, I <i>felt</i> I ought never to have taken the holiday. Scarcely had I set foot in my apartments when I was handed +a telegram from Sarah:—'Parrot laid an egg. Wire instructions.'"</span></p> +</div> +<hr /> + +<p>I do believe that I have +caught a detective napping; a +real private detective, one of the great infallibles of fiction. +Mr. <span class="sc">J. S. Fletcher's</span> <i>Exterior to the Evidence</i> (<span class="sc">Hodder +and Stoughton</span>) is one of those thrills in which any of the +characters might have committed the murder and there is +every reason, at times, to suspect that they have all had a hand +in it. Over the moorland there ran a path, and at a spot +known as Black Scar it came perilously near the edge of a +forty-foot drop, with rocks at the bottom. Over this precipice +went <i>Sir Cheville Stanbury</i> at midnight, a very odd circumstance +considering his life-long familiarity with the path. +<i>Weathershaw</i>, the great detective called in to investigate the +matter on behalf of one of the suspects, took a line of his +own and eventually hit upon someone you and I would +never have thought of. We have this excuse, that we had +no idea of his existence until he was hit upon; but no more +had <i>Weathershaw</i>. Now I am not going to give away the +secret of this enticing affair, but I must dispute the detective's +identification, on the last page but one, of the man +responsible for <i>Sir Cheville's</i> death. If you compare the +statement of fact on page 301, seven lines from the bottom, +which corroborates that on page 279, also seven lines from +the bottom, with <i>Weathershaw's</i> dramatic accusation, you +will understand what I mean and you will be left in considerable +doubt (as I was) of what the author means. Does +he suggest that <i>Sir Cheville</i> was never murdered at all? +After so much excitement that would be a sad pity.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The publishers of <i>The Amorous Cheat</i> (<span class="sc">Chatto and +Windus</span>) generously label it "an enthralling story of +domestic and stage life." To which my comment must be, +that the domesticity supplied by the hero's family and +their quite uninteresting hesitations between town and +suburban residence are entirely nebulous and illusive, that +the stage as background has no significance one way or +other, but that the impropriety +upon which (I must +say frankly) the appeal of +the book seems to depend is +given without stint, in a +measure that certainly may, +for some readers, justify the +publishers' epithet. You will +understand therefore that I +experience a little natural +hesitation about suggesting +the intrigue. It is certainly +of the simplest—a mere question +as to whether <i>Edward</i> +and <i>Vivian</i>, casual acquaintances +of a restaurant, shall +or shall not spend a sequence +of week-ends together. The +lady is described as on the +stage, but she might as well +belong to a guild of art-needlework. +<i>Edward</i> is the +only question of importance, +and the week-ends; if you +ponder the significance of the +title you can probably guess +the rest. To be honest I +ought to add that Mr. <span class="sc">Basil +Creighton</span> wields an easy-flowing +pen, and that at +least one chapter certainly +is wickedly entertaining, in +the style of what we used to +call "Continental" humour. +To sum up, not a novel for +family reading or for the fastidious. The others may +even be enthralled.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>The Diary of a Sportsman Naturalist in India</i> (<span class="sc">Lane</span>) +contains an excellent collection of sporting anecdotes, and +dip where you may you will find none of them trivial or +tiresome. Mr. <span class="sc">E. P. Stebbing</span> states that his purpose in +selecting material from his note-books was "to emphasize +the necessity which exists of affording protection to the +game and other animals of India," and, shy as some of us +are of purposeful books, there is no reason to be scared by +this one. In the first place Mr. <span class="sc">Stebbing</span>'s purpose is one +which will generally be commended, and in the second he +achieves it in an absolutely unobtrusive manner. To sportsmen, +and especially to those who have enjoyed the good +fortune of shooting in India, this volume will be extremely +welcome. The only cumbrous thing about it is its title. +Add that Mr. <span class="sc">Stebbing</span> is as profuse in his illustrations as +he is happy in his choice of subjects.</p> +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume +159, October 13, 1920, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 19382-h.htm or 19382-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/3/8/19382/ + +Produced by Stephanie Maschek, 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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