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diff --git a/22573-h/22573-h.htm b/22573-h/22573-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..87d429e --- /dev/null +++ b/22573-h/22573-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3148 @@ +<!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, Vol. 146, February 11, 1914.</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;} + .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, Vol. 146, +February 11, 1914, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 146, February 11, 1914 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Owen Seaman + +Release Date: September 11, 2007 [EBook #22573] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, VOL. 146, FEB. 11, 1914 *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 146.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>February 11, 1914.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" id="page101"></a>[pg 101]</span> + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Sir Edward Grey</span> is to accompany +the <span class="sc">King</span> on his visit to Paris in April +next. Nobody will grudge the <span class="sc">Foreign +Minister</span> this little treat, which he has +thoroughly well earned.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>According to <i>The Express</i> the South +African police discovered an elaborate +plot for kidnapping all the Ministers +as a preliminary to declaring a Labour +Republic. In Labour circles, however, it +is declared that the scheme was drawn +up for a joke. To this the South African +Government will no doubt retort that +the kidnapping of the Labour +leaders was also a joke—and +so the whole matter will end +in genial laughter.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Speaking at Toronto, +ex-President <span class="sc">Taft</span> stated that +the world would have been +much worse off without England. +We believe that this is +so. Without England there +might have been no American +nation to speak of.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Sir <span class="sc">Edward Grey</span> remarked +at Manchester that at "the time +when we built the first <i>Dreadnoughts +Dreadnoughts</i> were in +the air." So our backwardness +in naval aviation is no new +thing.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>An attempt is to be made to +raise thirteen French warships +which were sunk when the +English and Dutch fleets routed +the French off Cape La Hogue. +It is feared in nervous quarters +that this may be used by the +Germans as an excuse for further +increasing their fleet.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Although it is frequently stated +that our army is fit to cope with the +army of any Foreign Power it is evident +that the War Office itself is not quite +satisfied, and reforms are instituted +from time to time. For instance last +week it was officially announced that +the title of Deputy-Adjutant-General, +Royal Marines, had been altered to +Adjutant-General, Royal Marines.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>"Arising out of" <span class="sc">Kid Lewis's</span> victory +last week over <span class="sc">Paul Til</span>, it is the opinion +among a good many Germans that the +French Government, being determined +that the Entente should not be imperilled, +decided to send over a French +boxer whom an Englishman could +defeat.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Letchworth Garden City is now +considered large enough to possess +its own police court, and the Herts +County Council has sanctioned its +erection. Four Letchworth residents +have been made J.P.'s, and it is +now up to the residue to supply sufficient +criminals to make the venture +a success.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Last week, in the City of London +Court, a man was ordered to pay £15 +damages and costs for pouring a basin +of thick ox-tail soup over another man. +We are glad that this action has been +held to be illegal, as thick ox-tail is +such nasty sticky stuff.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile what the law is as to +clear soup is a point which still remains +to be tested.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>According to figures published in +our bright little contemporary, <i>Fire</i>, +property amounting to £359,875 was +destroyed by fire in Great Britain +during the past year. This seems to +us more than enough, but it is not easy +to satisfy a militant suffragette.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Mr. "<span class="sc">Mark Allerton</span>" has suggested +that London ought to have a +special golf course for beginners. If it +could be arranged for spectators to be +admitted at a moderate charge we +believe this might become one of the +most successful places of amusement in +the Metropolis.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>A suggestion that school children +shall be taken to museums, as a reward +for good school work, has been made by +Lord <span class="sc">Sudeley</span>. This is scarcely a new +idea. We remember that when we +were at school there was a feeling that +the very good boys ought to be in a +museum.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>We have been favoured with the +sight of a letter from a money-lender, +in which the following remarkable +passage occurs:—"The above terms +are for short periods, <i>to be repaid</i> as +mutually agreed upon <i>before the advance +is made</i>." The italics are ours, but +the proleptic idea is a happy +invention of the author himself.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">Spring in the Air.</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Daily Mail</i>. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We are sorry not to oblige +our contemporary, but advancing +years have taken something +from our resiliency.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<h3>Another Impending Apology.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"Dr. Glover, in giving up the +Editorship of this most valuable +periodical, has earned the grateful +thanks of the whole Diocese."</p> + +<p><i>Chichester Diocesan Gazette.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<blockquote><p> +"A ridiculous fad that some society +ladies are adopting at the present time +is not to place any month on the date +of their correspondence, simply giving +the day of the year. Thus to-day +will be marked '34, 1914.' This is +not very difficult, but when it comes +to, say, '271, 14,' it will need more +than a little calculation to discover +the actual date."</p> + +<p><i>Pall Mall Gazette</i> (<i>Feb. 4th</i>). +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Even "to-day" is too difficult +for our contemporary.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Potatoes, Potateos.</span>"</p> + +<blockquote><p> +<i>Advt. in "Bedale Chronicle"</i> (<i>its +full title being "Bedale, Leyburn and +Hawes Chronicle," but that would +make the name of the paper longer than the +quotation from it—always a mistake.</i>) +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We don't care for the second helping.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<blockquote><p> +"'Ha! ha!' the others laugh in their +native tongue."—<i>Evening Dispatch.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>You should hear us gargle in German.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>The Editor of <i>Punch</i> has reproved +his Dramatic Critic for referring to <i>It</i>, +in <i>The Darling of the Gods</i>, as "a +precocious babe." He is assured that +Mr. <span class="sc">Burtie</span>, who plays this neutral +part, "has seen some five-and-twenty +summers, and has advanced intellectual +views about most things." <i>Mr. Punch's</i> +Dramatic Critic has been instructed to +"give him double bowing" by way of +deferential compensation.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/101.png"><img width="100%" src="images/101.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><i>The Colonel.</i> <span class="sc">"Dash it, Sir, what do you mean by not +having a light on your confounded hoop?"</span></p> +</div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" id="page102"></a>[pg 102]</span> + + +<h2>BOWLES WITHOUT A BIAS.</h2> + +<blockquote><p> +[With the author's congratulations to "Cap'n" <span class="sc">Tommy Bowles</span> +on the appearance of his new quarterly review, <i>The Candid</i>, whose +declared aim is "to deal with Public Affairs faithfully and frankly ... +and without Party bias." Among its contents are articles on +"The New Corruption: The Caucus and the Sale of Honours," and +"An Opposition Impotent."] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I know a man of simple mind,</p> +<p class="i2">Gamaliel Nibbs by name,</p> +<p>Whose early faith in human kind</p> +<p class="i2">Burned like a Vestal flame;</p> +<p>No wind of doubt that stirs the dust</p> +<p class="i2">Fluttered that bright and constant taper;</p> +<p>But oh, he had his dearest trust</p> +<p class="i2">Pinned to his daily paper.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Not once he paused awhile to ask</p> +<p class="i2">Whence was their wisdom caught</p> +<p>Who undertook the nightly task</p> +<p class="i2">Of shaping England's thought;</p> +<p>He pictured gods that drove the pen</p> +<p class="i2">Aloof on high Olympian levels,</p> +<p>And not a staff of haggard men</p> +<p class="i2">Hustled by printer's devils.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then came a shock eight years ago:</p> +<p class="i2">The Rads, he thought, were dished;</p> +<p>The Tory Press had just to show</p> +<p class="i2">The People what it wished;</p> +<p>And yet, for all its wealth and size,</p> +<p class="i2">For all its mammoth circulations,</p> +<p>The country saw the Liberals rise</p> +<p class="i2">And sweep the polling-stations.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And, when the same sad case occurred</p> +<p class="i2">Twice in a single year,</p> +<p>Gamaliel, moulting like a bird,</p> +<p class="i2">Mislaid his lightsome cheer;</p> +<p>Yet, even so, he would not let</p> +<p class="i2">His confidence in all that's best rust</p> +<p>Until <i>The Pall Mall</i> went and set</p> +<p class="i2">Its teeth against "The Press Trust."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The writer dropped some dreadful hints</p> +<p class="i2">Of One whose sole decree</p> +<p>Governed the views of various prints</p> +<p class="i2">Not to be named by me;</p> +<p>He disapproved of paper rings;</p> +<p class="i2">In language almost rudely blunt he</p> +<p>Dilated on the puppet-strings</p> +<p class="i2">Pulled by a monstrous <i>Bunty</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Our hero's faith grew sick and pale,</p> +<p class="i2">Yet was not all forlorn,</p> +<p>Till Mr. <span class="sc">Maxse</span> charged <i>The Mail</i></p> +<p class="i2">With blowing <span class="sc">Winston's</span> horn;</p> +<p>And drew his axe and dyed it pink</p> +<p class="i2">With blood of Tories, blade to handle—</p> +<p>Blood of a Press that chose to blink</p> +<p class="i2">The late Marconi scandal.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>This finished off Gamaliel Nibbs.</p> +<p class="i2">Beside his morning mess</p> +<p>No journal lies to-day: he jibs</p> +<p class="i2">At all the Party Press;</p> +<p>He counts it stuff for common souls,</p> +<p class="i2">And means to get his mind expanded</p> +<p>By sampling truths that Mr. <span class="sc">Bowles</span></p> +<p class="i2">Embodies in <i>The Candid</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Browsing on <span class="sc">Tommy's</span> fearless Tracts,</p> +<p class="i2">A strong and generous food,</p> +<p>He'll take his fill of meaty facts</p> +<p class="i2">Not to be lightly chewed:—</p> +<p>Corruption in the highest seats;</p> +<p class="i2">Impotence in the Opposition;</p> +<p>The Ship of State, with flapping sheets,</p> +<p class="i2">Moving to mere perdition.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A sovereign (net) for entrance fee—</p> +<p class="i2">And Nibbs is on the list</p> +<p>Of patrons who support a free</p> +<p class="i2">Impartial pessimist;</p> +<p>Yet shall his faith not wholly burst;</p> +<p class="i2">He shares, in common with his "Cap'n,"</p> +<p>The view that, when we reach the worst,</p> +<p class="i2">Then nothing worse can happen.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>O. S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE CABINET MEETS.</h2> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span>.</i> Perhaps the most important point before +us, now that the Naval Estimates are settled satisfactorily, +is the question how we're to get through the Session. +The Labour Party seems discontented.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Harcourt</span></i> (<i>airily</i>). I like talking over their denunciations +with them as they walk through the lobby with us +afterwards.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span>.</i> Yes, I agree that their altitude is not of +overwhelming importance. Oh, by the way, I have had an +interview with Mr. <span class="sc">Redmond</span>. He is pleased to say that at +present he is favourably disposed to us.</p> + +<p><i>All</i> (<i>except Lord <span class="sc">Crewe</span></i>). That's all right.</p> + +<p><i>Lord <span class="sc">Crewe</span>.</i> H'm.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">John Burns</span>.</i> I——</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span>.</i> Pardon me if I interrupt, but there is a +bad feeling in the country. A paper known as <i>The Spectator</i> +even suggests the impeachment of the Government.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span>.</i> I am not surprised. Unprincipled +attacks are often made on me by political muckrakers. +I sometimes think that I shall give up politics.</p> + +<p><i>Lord <span class="sc">Crewe</span>.</i> H'm.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Birrell</span>.</i> And suggestions are made that Ministers +should be hanged in Downing Street. Now in Dublin one +allows a certain latitude, but in Downing Street!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">McKenna</span>.</i> I have consulted the police authorities +on the point. They inform me that the lamp-posts would +only bear an exceedingly light weight.</p> + +<p><i>Lord <span class="sc">Haldane</span>.</i> That is most reassuring.</p> + +<p><i>Colonel <span class="sc">Seeley</span>.</i> There's another threat. They talk of +the Lords throwing out the Army Bill.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span>.</i> Good—a saving of thirty (or is it +fifty?) millions—a great democratic Budget—and an +election-winning cry, "The Lords destroy the Army."</p> + +<p><i>Lord <span class="sc">Crewe</span>.</i> H'm.</p> + +<p><i>Colonel <span class="sc">Seeley</span>.</i> But we need the Army.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span>.</i> What for? Its elimination would +be a great moral example to Germany. <i>Some</i> nation must +take the lead in the peace movement.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Churchill</span>.</i> The third great election-winner! +I suppose National Insurance and Land go back to the +stable.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Burns</span>.</i> I——</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Birrell</span></i> (<i>hastily</i>). But there's Ulster. What about +Ulster?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Churchill</span>.</i> The solution is simple. We revive +the Heptarchy.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span>.</i> The Heptarchy was a Saxon +institution. It makes no appeal to the ardent, fervid +intensely religious Celt.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" id="page105"></a>[pg 105]</span> + +<p><i>Lord <span class="sc">Crewe</span>.</i> H'm.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Burns</span>.</i> I——</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Harcourt</span></i> (<i>interrupting</i>). But what are we to do +about Ulster?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span>.</i> We must await the reply to our offer.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Birrell</span>.</i> But have we made an offer? I said we +had, but have we?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">McKenna</span>.</i> (<i>acutely</i>). We might await a reply to our +tentative offer of an offer.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span>.</i> Good, <span class="sc">McKenna</span>, very good. I appreciate +the delicate distinction.</p> + +<p><i>Lord <span class="sc">Haldane</span></i> (<i>aside to Lord <span class="sc">Morley</span></i>). Had <span class="sc">McKenna</span> +been caught young and forcibly educated, he would have +made a metaphysician.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span>.</i> We have not yet considered whether anything +can be done to remedy the temporary unpopularity +of the Government.</p> + +<p><i>Colonel <span class="sc">Seeley</span>.</i> Suppose <span class="sc">Hobhouse</span> resigned. (<i>A hum +of approval.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span>.</i> Say, rather, accepted a lofty Imperial post.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Hobhouse</span>.</i> And made room for <span class="sc">Lloyd George's</span> +Man Friday! It would mean a by-election in Bethnal +Green, where he comes from. (<i>Consternation.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Burns</span>.</i> I——</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span></i> (<i>suddenly</i>). I accept your resignation with +great regret, <span class="sc">Burns</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Burns</span></i> (<i>indignantly</i>). I was about to say that under +no circumstances would I resign.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span></i> (<i>sadly</i>). Pardon me. I thought you were +anxious for leisure to complete your autobiography. Well, +if there are no resignations, I think we have ended the +business of the day.</p> + +<hr/> + +<h3>A CLEAN SLATE.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/103.png"><img width="100%" src="images/103.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><span class="sc">Botha</span> (<i>to himself</i>). "I BEG TO PRESENT YOU WITH THIS TOKEN OF MY SINCERE APPROBATION."</p> + <p><span class="sc">Himself</span> (<i>to Botha</i>). "I ACCEPT IT IN THE SPIRIT IN WHICH IT IS GIVEN."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/105.png"><img width="100%" src="images/105.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><i>Crafty Neighbor</i> (<i>to stout old lady who has just entered carriage with four on each side</i>). "<span class="sc">Excuse me, Mum, but you'll find +more room on the other side—there are only four there."</span></p> + <p><i>Old Lady.</i> <span class="sc">"Thankee, Sir, so there be; I 'adn't noticed.</span>" (<i>Changes over.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE CLUB MUSIC HALL.</h2> + +<p>The Royal Automobile Club having decided to enter into +serious competition with the Music Halls in order to +encourage active membership, it is rumoured that one or +two other clubs are determined not to be left behind, and +the following announcements may be expected shortly:—</p> + +<p>PATHÉNAEUM CLUB.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Notice to Bishops-Elect.</span></p> + +<p>Every Evening at 8 and Matinées (Weds. and Sats.) at 2.30:</p> + +<p>"SHOULD A WOMAN CONFESS?"</p> + +<p>Kinoplastieon drama by <span class="sc">The Dean of Tooting</span>.</p> + +<p>Evenings at 10:</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">The Sarum Lily</span>" in her marvellous Ecclesiastical Dances.</p> + +<p>THE UNITED DIVERSITIES CLUB.</p> + +<p>Every Afternoon at 2.30 and Every Evening at 9:</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Grand Co-operative Concert and Variety Entertainment.</span></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Davy Lloyd in His Great Land Act, +with Troupe of Performing Scotch Woodcocks.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Bonnie Lawder</span> ... "<i>My True Blue Belfast.</i>"</p> +<p class="i2"><span class="sc">Ted Carson and Chorus of Outlaws</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Bertie Samuel</span> ... <i>Heard at the Telephone</i></p> +<p class="i2">(farcical comedy).</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Reggie McKenna</span> ... "<i>Nose-bagtime.</i>"</p> +<p class="i2"><span class="sc">By-electionscope.</span></p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>The Retrograde.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"He wanted to see the town grow larger and the dates grow less."</p> + +<p><i>Birmingham Daily Post</i>. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Come where the dates grow smaller!"</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" id="page106"></a>[pg 106]</span> + +<h2>A KEY TO CUBISM.</h2> + +<p>The chief exponent of "the new +geometric art" explains the whole +movement in the following passage, as +reproduced in <i>The Observer</i>:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Primitive space has entered into us, as it +were.... Against that space within us, as +against the space that appalled the savage from +without, we erect always more hard and logical +images.... All brute material, animate and +inanimate, of earth, becomes an organism to +confront the soul. Formerly the soul as a +simple figure, like a ballet, faced the environing +vagueness.</p> + +<p>"Appearance then, at present, becomes a +dyke around the invision from within. And, +as a consequence even of this, the +appearance, as it is seen in art to-day, +tends to be more removed from +everyday objective reality than at +any former period of art. A new +religion is being built up, girder by +girder, around the vague spirit. +<i>Space</i>, the physical space of savage +shyness, <i>is now on our side</i>." +</p></blockquote> + +<p>The comment of the writer +in <i>The Observer</i> runs thus: +"This, at any rate, is the +language of people who know +what they are about."</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Punch</i>, being a little +fearful lest the average reader +of the above passage may not +share this knowledge of "what +they are about," ventures to +add his own views on Cubism, +confident that even those who +disagree will applaud his clarity.</p> + +<p>From <span class="sc">Raphael</span> until <span class="sc">Pceszy +Turgidoff</span> (the brilliant young +Slav whose canvas has recently +been acquired by the Royal Geological +Museum) all true artists +have striven to adumbrate the +eternal conflict between the +morbid pathology of Realism +and the poignant simplicity of +Nihilism. In other and shorter +words, chaos must ever be on +the side of the angels. But, +until the advent of the new +Truth, the whole mission of art +had trickled into a very delta of arid +sentiment. The critic could walk all +the galleries of Europe and find +nothing to lighten his melancholy +until he entered one of those caverns +of earliest man and stood in ecstatic +reverence before the incomparable +masterpieces wherein the first of the +Futurists created (with perfect parsimony +of a sharpened flint) Man, not as +he is to his own dull eye, but Man as +he is to the inner retina of the universe. +Man, the simple triangle on two stilts, +the creature on one plane and of one +dimension, an outline without entity, +a nothingness staring, faceless, at the +nothingness which baffles his soul.</p> + +<p>Emotion, idealism, beauty—these +have been always the evil spirits that +have fettered art. The new art has so +exorcised them that they have fled from +it with demoniac cries. Pulziacco's +splendid rhomboid, "Cleopatra"; +Weber-Damm's tender parallelograms, +"The Daughters of James Bowles, Esq., +J.P"; Todwarden Jones's rectilineal +wizardry, "A Basket of Oranges"; +and Arabella Machicu's triumph of +astigmatism, "The Revolving Bookcase," +are examples of this conquest of +the inner retina over the brutal insistences +of form and matter.</p> + +<p>Of still deeper significance is that +terribly sad picture of Philip Martini, +"The Mumpers: a Group at Lloyds." +Nothing is more illustrative of the +courage demanded for the struggle of +the new art against convention than +this poignant work, wherein, true to +the verities, the artist has confounded +realism in its own domain by the unrecognisable +faces of his sitters.</p> + +<p>Let us sum up the new movement +so clearly that the dullest will apprehend. +Surely the inhibition of all +apperceptions in art is correlative to +the inner <i>ego</i>? That simple postulate +granted, it will be unquestioned that the +true focus of vision should co-ordinate +the invisible. Faith we must have, or +we faint by the roadside of the intelligible. +The only altruism is that +which can defy the cold brutality of +things as they <i>are</i>, and convince us +with things as they <i>are not</i>. Thus +alone can the contemplation of art bring +us back to primal infelicity, and restore +in our souls the perfect vacuity of +infants and cows. Thus only can we +achieve the suffusion of vision of the +happy inebriate.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/106.png"><img width="100%" src="images/106.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><i>Sunday-school Teacher.</i> "<span class="sc">And now, Tommy, about your +prize—would you like a hymn-book</span>?"</p> + <p><i>Tommy.</i> "<span class="sc">A yim-book's all right, teacher, but—er—er—I'd +sooner 'ave a squirt</span>."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE TROPHY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I'd dined at home; I'd read till ten;</p> +<p class="i2">I'd thought, "The space upon the wall</p> +<p class="i4">Above the stuffed Thames trout</p> +<p class="i2">Wants filling." That was really all:</p> +<p>And then I closed my eyes, and then</p> +<p class="i4">I let my pipe go out.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="short"/> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>We crawled, the Khan of Khot and I,</p> +<p class="i2">On a Thibetan precipice</p> +<p class="i4">(It <i>was</i> Thibet, I think),</p> +<p class="i2">A place of snow and black abyss;</p> +<p>We lay on rock—mid wind and sky—</p> +<p class="i4">Above a beetling brink.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>For lo, along the ridge there fed</p> +<p class="i2">The sheep that ne'er a shepherd know</p> +<p class="i4">Save the shrill wind of morn,</p> +<p class="i2">Five "<i>Oves Ammon</i>" of the snow;</p> +<p>I saw the big ram lift his head,</p> +<p class="i4">Twin-mooned in mighty horn.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Broadside he turned, a mountain-god</p> +<p class="i2">In sweep of coronal sublime,</p> +<p class="i4">And the fierce whisper broke—</p> +<p class="i2">The Khan of Khot's, he hissed, "<i>Tak time</i>!"</p> +<p>And handed me my spinning-rod;</p> +<p class="i4">And as he did I woke!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<hr class="short"/> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>One thing at least is clear, and that's</p> +<p class="i2">My empty wall is yet to fill;</p> +<p class="i4">Though oft with even's shade</p> +<p class="i2">I see that great head from the hill,</p> +<p>Unstable as the Cheshire cat's,</p> +<p class="i4">Look down therefrom and fade.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<p>Two quotations from <i>The Publisher's +Circular</i>:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Mr. Robert Bowes (who by the way is in +his sixty-seventh year)...."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Robert Bowes is in his seventy-ninth +year.... But then he is much younger than +many older men." +</p></blockquote> + +<p>So are all of us. Mr. <span class="sc">Bowes's</span> distinction +is in being twelve years younger +than himself.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" id="page107"></a>[pg 107]</span> + +<h3>ALL'S WELL THAT BEGINS WELL.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/107.png"><img width="100%" src="images/107.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><span class="sc">The Mayoress kicks off for Squasham United.</span></p> + <p><span class="sc">Miss Dotty Devereux for the stage.</span></p> + <p><span class="sc">A Famous Scandinavian Poet for the Authors.</span></p> + <p><span class="sc">Her Ladyship for the Village.</span></p> + <p><span class="sc">Little Rosie for the Ramblers.</span></p> + <p><span class="sc">A Borough Councillor for the "Old Boys."</span>]</p> +</div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" id="page108"></a>[pg 108]</span> + +<h2>THE LESSON.</h2> + +<p>I was showing Celia a few fancy +strokes on the billiard table. The other +members of the house-party were in +the library, learning their parts for +some approaching theatricals—that is +to say, they were sitting round the fire +and saying to each other, "This <i>is</i> a +rotten play." We had been offered the +position of auditors to several of the +company, but we were going to see +<i>Parsifal</i> on the next day, and I was +afraid that the constant excitement +would be bad for Celia.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you ask me to play with +you?" she asked. "You never teach +mo anything."</p> + +<p>"There's ingratitude. Why, I gave +you your first lesson at golf only last +Thursday."</p> + +<p>"So you did. I know golf. Now +show me billiards."</p> + +<p>I looked at my watch.</p> + +<p>"We've only twenty minutes. I'll +play you thirty up."</p> + +<p>"Right-o... What do you give me—a +ball or a bisque or what?"</p> + +<p>"I can't spare you a ball, I'm afraid. +I shall want all three when I get +going. You may have fifteen start, +and I'll tell you what to do."</p> + +<p>"Well, what do I do first?"</p> + +<p>"Select a cue."</p> + +<p>She went over to the rack and +inspected them.</p> + +<p>"This seems a nice brown one. Now +then, you begin."</p> + +<p>"Celia, you've got the half-butt. +Put it back and take a younger one."</p> + +<p>"I thought it seemed taller than the +others." She took another. "How's +this? Good. Then off you go."</p> + +<p>"Will you be spot or plain?" I said, +chalking my cue.</p> + +<p>"Does it matter?"</p> + +<p>"Not very much. They're both the +same shape."</p> + +<p>"Then what's the difference?"</p> + +<p>"Well, one is more spotted than the +other."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll be less spotted."</p> + +<p>I went to the table.</p> + +<p>"I think," I said, "I'll try and screw +in off the red." (I did this once by +accident and I've always wanted to do +it again). "Or perhaps," I corrected +myself, as soon as the ball had left me, +"I had better give a safety miss."</p> + +<p>I did. My ball avoided the red +and came swiftly back into the left-hand +bottom pocket.</p> + +<p>"That's three to you," I said without +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Celia seemed surprised.</p> + +<p>"But I haven't begun yet," she said. +"Well, I suppose you know the rules, +but it seems funny. What would you +like me to do?"</p> + +<p>"Well, there isn't much on. You'd +better just try and hit the red ball."</p> + +<p>"Right." She leant over the table +and took long and careful aim. I held +my breath.... Still she aimed.... Then, +keeping her chin on the cue, she +slowly turned her head and looked up +at me with a thoughtful expression.</p> + +<p>"Oughtn't there to be three balls on +the table?" she said, wrinkling her +forehead.</p> + +<p>"No," I answered shortly.</p> + +<p>"But why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because I went down by mistake."</p> + +<p>"But you said that when you got +going, you wanted—I can't argue +bending down like this." She raised +herself slowly. "You said—Oh, +all right, I expect you know. Anyhow, I +<i>have</i> scored some already, haven't I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. You're eighteen to my +nothing."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Well, now I shall have to +aim all over again." She bent slowly +over her cue. "Does it matter where +I hit the red?"</p> + +<p>"Not much. As long as you hit it +on the red part."</p> + +<p>She hit it hard on the side, and both +balls came into baulk.</p> + +<p>"Too good," I said.</p> + +<p>"Does either of us get anything for +it?"</p> + +<p>"No." The red and the white were +close together, and I went up the table +and down again on the off-chance of a +cannon. I misjudged it, however.</p> + +<p>"That's three to you," I said stiffly, +as I took my ball out of the right-hand +bottom pocket. "Twenty-one to +nothing."</p> + +<p>"Funny how I'm doing all the +scoring," said Celia meditatively. "And +I've practically never played before. I +shall hit the red hard now and see what +happens to it."</p> + +<p>She hit, and the red coursed madly +about the table, coming to rest near +the top right-hand pocket and close to +the cushion. With a forcing shot I +could get in.</p> + +<p>"This will want a lot of chalk," I +said pleasantly to Celia, and gave it +plenty. Then I let fly....</p> + +<p>"Why did that want a lot of +chalk?" said Celia with interest.</p> + +<p>I went to the fireplace and picked +my ball out of the fender.</p> + +<p>"That's three to you," I said coldly. +"Twenty-four to nothing."</p> + +<p>"Am I winning?"</p> + +<p>"You're leading," I explained. +"Only, you see, I may make a twenty +at any moment."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" She thought this over. +"Well, I may make my three at any +moment."</p> + +<p>She chalked her cue and went over +to her ball.</p> + +<p>"What shall I do?"</p> + +<p>"Just touch the red on the right-hand +side," I said, "and you'll go into the +pocket."</p> + +<p>"The <i>right</i>-hand side? Do you +mean <i>my</i> right-hand side, or the ball's?"</p> + +<p>"The right-hand side of the ball, of +course; that is to say, the side opposite +your right hand."</p> + +<p>"But its right-hand side is opposite +my <i>left</i> hand, if the ball is facing this +way."</p> + +<p>"Take it," I said wearily, "that the +ball has its back to you."</p> + +<p>"How rude of it," said Celia, and +hit it on the left-hand side, and sank +it. "Was that what you meant?"</p> + +<p>"Well ... it's another way of +doing it."</p> + +<p>"I thought it was. What do I give +you for that?"</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> get three."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I thought the other person +always got the marks. I know the last +three times——"</p> + +<p>"Go on," I said freezingly. "You +have another turn."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is it like rounders?"</p> + +<p>"Something. Go on, there's a dear. +It's getting late."</p> + +<p>She went, and left the red over the +middle pocket.</p> + +<p>"A-ha!" I said. I found a nice place +in the "D" for my ball. "Now then. +This is the <span class="sc">Gray</span> stroke, you know."</p> + +<p>I suppose I was nervous. Anyhow, +I just nicked the red ball gently on the +wrong side and left it hanging over the +pocket. The white travelled slowly up +the table.</p> + +<p>"Why is that called the grey +stroke?" asked Celia with great interest.</p> + +<p>"Because once, when Sir <span class="sc">Edward +Grey</span> was playing the German Ambassador—but +it's rather a long story. +I'll tell you another time."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Well, anyhow, did the German +Ambassador got anything for it?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose I don't. Bother."</p> + +<p>"But you've only got to knock the +red in for game."</p> + +<p>"Oh!.... There, what's that?"</p> + +<p>"That's a miscue. I get one."</p> + +<p>"Oh!.... Oh well," she added magnanimously, +"I'm glad you've started +scoring. It will make it more interesting +for you."</p> + +<p>There was just room to creep in off +the red, leaving it still over the pocket. +With Celia's ball nicely over the other +pocket there was a chance of my +twenty break. "Let's see," I said, +"how many do I want?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-nine," replied Celia.</p> + +<p>"Ah," I said.... and I crept in.</p> + +<p>"That's three to you," I said icily. +"Game."</p> + +<p>A. A. M.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109"></a>[pg 109]</span> + + +<h2>OUR READY WRITERS.</h2> + +<p>The astonishing rapidity attained by +Mr. <span class="sc">Walter Melville</span> in the composition +of his plays as revealed in the +evidence given in court last week has +suggested an appeal to other leading +authors for information as to their rate +of production. We append the results +herewith:—</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Max Pemberton</span> observed that +the speed of composition varied with +the literary quality of the work produced. +Personally he found that by +far the most laborious and protracted +mental effort was entailed in the writing +of <i>Revues</i>. He had calculated that the +amount of brain force he had spent on +his last masterpiece was fully as large +as that expended by <span class="sc">Gibbon</span> on his +monumental <i>History of the Decline +and Fall of the Roman Empire</i>. In +evidence of the strain he added the +following interesting statistics. He +had worn out thirteen of the costliest +gold-nibbed fountain pens; seven expert +typists had been so exhausted that +they had to undergo a rest-cure; and +finally he himself had consumed no +fewer than nineteen seven-and-sixpenny +bottles of Blunker's Sanguinogen.</p> + +<p>Sir <span class="sc">Edwin Durning-Lawrence</span>, +Bart., poohpoohed the notion that the +moderns were more rapid producers +than their forefathers. As the result +of his investigations he had conclusively +proved that <span class="sc">Bacon</span> was an infinitely +more rapid producer than any living +author. His time-table worked out as +follows. <span class="sc">Bacon</span> wrote <i>Chaucer</i> in a +little less than three weeks. He completed +the <i>Faerie Queene</i> in one sitting, +allowing for refreshments, of seventy-four +hours. The Plays of <span class="sc">Shakspeare</span> +occupied him from first to last not +more than ten months. <i>Montaigne</i> was +dashed off in just a fortnight, while +<i>Beaumont and Fletcher</i>, <i>Marlowe</i>, +<i>Greene</i>, <i>Webster</i> and <i>Ben Jonson</i> took +him exactly 37-1/2 days. Next to <span class="sc">Shakspeare's</span> +Plays the <i>Divina Commedia</i> +was his most protracted effort, costing +him nearly four months of unremitting +labour. Sir <span class="sc">Edwin</span> added in pathetic +proof of the degeneracy of the moderns +that his own famous pamphlet had +taken him twice as long to compose as +<i>Chaucer</i> had taken <span class="sc">Bacon</span>.</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Hall Caine</span> strongly deprecated +the tendency to put a premium on +rapid composition, as though there were +any special virtue in speed. His own +novels, which were written with his +heart's blood, represented in their ultimate +form a rigorous condensation of +materials ten or even fifteen times as +bulky. It was in this process of condensation +that the self-sacrificing side +of true genius was most convincingly +shown. But, great as was the strain +involved in this painful process, even +greater was that imposed on a successful +author by the cruel importunity of the +interviewer on the eve of publication. +Such methods were absolutely alien to +his nature, but he had to set against +his own convenience the immeasurable +disappointment which his refusal would +cause his readers. It was one of the +most pathetic tragedies of genius that +the dictates of an austere reticence were +so often set at nought by the impulses +of a tender heart.</p> + +<p>Sir H. H. <span class="sc">Howorth</span> said that the +6,500 columns of <i>The Times</i> which +he had filled in the last thirty years +had been covered in exactly 3,000 +minutes or 500 hours. In his contributions +to <i>The Morning Post</i>, where +he was accorded a larger type, he had +attained a slightly greater velocity, +almost equalling that of <span class="sc">Lope de Vega</span>, +the most prolific writer on record. On +the other hand, in his <i>History of the +Mongols</i> he had adopted a rate of +progress more in keeping with the +leisurely habits of the race whose records +he was collating. He added the interesting +fact that, in spite of the saying +<i>nomen omen</i>, both Dean <span class="sc">Swift</span> and +Archdeacon <span class="sc">Hare</span> were slow composers.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE SECRET OF OUR COMMERCIAL SUPREMACY.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/109.png"><img width="100%" src="images/109.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><i>Clerk</i> (<i>to applicant for post of office-boy</i>). "<span class="sc">The guvnor's out. Call to-morrow at nine.</span></p> + <p><i>Applicant.</i> "<span class="sc">Oh, I say! Can't you make it later? I have my breakfast at nine.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Coroners' juries have frequently placed on +record their disapproval of amateur doctring."</p> + +<p><i>Manchester Guardian.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Which, in the opinion of <i>Mrs. Gamp</i>, +they ought to mind their own business +and not interfere with matters connected +with religion.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110"></a>[pg 110]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/110.png"><img width="100%" src="images/110.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><span class="sc">The Picture of a Boxer As Published Fifty Years Ago.</span></p> + <p><span class="sc">And the picture of a boxer as published to-day.</span></p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>MANES À LA MODE.</h2> + +<p>(<i>A vision suggested by the inspiriting rumour that green +hair is about to become fashionable.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>In Springtide when the copses stir</p> +<p class="i2">And hawthorn buds on boughs are seen,</p> +<p>My love shall seek the hairdresser</p> +<p class="i2">And have her hair dyed green.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Gay priestess of a Dryad cult</p> +<p class="i2">With leaf-like locks she'll haunt the trees,</p> +<p>Securing this superb result</p> +<p class="i2">With Boffkin's verdigris.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And feathered songsters all secure,</p> +<p class="i2">The merle, the lark, shall come and sit</p> +<p>Amongst her emerald <i>chevelure</i></p> +<p class="i2">And build their nests in it.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But when sweet Maytime draws to close</p> +<p class="i2">Neaera still shall mark the date;</p> +<p>She'll steal the red fires of the rose</p> +<p class="i2">And daub them on her pate.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The ensanguined peonies shall grudge</p> +<p class="i2">Her flaming top-knot's stolen hue</p> +<p>(The bill shall come from Messrs. Fudge,</p> +<p class="i2">"To tincture, Two Pound Two").</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And bees and wasps to sip its bloom</p> +<p class="i2">Shall buzz about that glorious tire</p> +<p>And, having sipped, shall feel a gloom</p> +<p class="i2">And painfully expire.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Sad Autumn shall arrive, and still</p> +<p class="i2">To suit the note the glades have struck,</p> +<p>Moat sweetly shall Neaera swill</p> +<p class="i2">Her poll with barber's muck.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And now with gold and purple glow,</p> +<p class="i2">Now russet and now rather wan,</p> +<p>Weekly her scalp shall undergo</p> +<p class="i2">Some transformation.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Till lastly, when by chymic jolt</p> +<p class="i2">And sheer corrosion of the thatch,</p> +<p>What time the withering woodlands moult</p> +<p class="i2">My love shall moult to match,</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And all those curls I loved to beg</p> +<p class="i2">For keepsakes on the earth be strewed,</p> +<p>Leaving her cranium like an egg</p> +<p class="i2">Incomparably nude.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>What matter? She can start again</p> +<p class="i2">And ape the season's altering rigs</p> +<p>More simply, having lost her mane,</p> +<p class="i2">With <i>repertoires</i> of wigs.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><span class="sc">Evoe.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>A Gold Coast Nut.</h3> + +<p>(<i>Copy of Letter addressed to a London Tailor</i>.)</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Dear Sir—I beg to say these words to you. I deem you will not +have any vexation about my requirement. You may be pleased for +my saying, your name having recommened to me by a certain friend +of mine. He knows very well, else he could not give your name to +me. Because no one knows you in this Gold Coast, with exception +of him. That you are the best tailor at city called London. I +desiderate to deal with in England. On the receipt of this note, +genial forward me your samples by returning mail together with price +list. I will be pleased to open a great business with you.... I will +gladly submit your good reply by my great opportunities, hoping +you will not fail. Yours faithfully ——" +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p>"To name a girl after a battle or other public event," +says <i>The Daily News</i>, "is positively wicked, as it gives +away her age. The numerous 'Almas' christened during +the Crimean War had good reason to know this; so have the +'Jubilees' and the 'Trafalgars.'" Quite so. We know a +dear lady who might easily pass for twenty if her parents +had not named her "Ramillies."</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111"></a>[pg 111]</span> + +<h3>THE GIFT HORSE.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/111.png"><img width="100%" src="images/111.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><span class="sc">Mr. Asquith.</span> <span class="sc">"THERE YOU ARE, SIR; WARRANTED QUIET TO RIDE OR DRIVE. HE'S +BY 'CONVERSATIONS' OUT OF 'PARLIAMENT,' AND I'VE CALLED HIM 'THE LIMIT.'"</span></p> + <p><span class="sc">Mr. Bonar Law.</span> <span class="sc">"MANY THANKS, BUT I DON'T SEEM TO CARE MUCH FOR HIS TEETH."</span></p> +</div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113"></a>[pg 113]</span> + +<h3>QUESTION TIME.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/113.png"><img width="100%" src="images/113.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><i>Effie.</i> "<span class="sc">Mummy, when you and Daddy was engaged did you engage him or did he engage you?</span></p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE THREE WISHES.</h2> + +<p>(<i>A Story for Little Innocents.</i>)</p> + +<p>Once upon the usual time, a poor +but comparatively honest woodcutter +dwelt in a tiny hut on the edge of a +great forest. Since he was so poor, his +fare was simplicity itself: black bread +and a cheese of goat's milk, washed +down by draughts of cold water bottled +at a neighbouring spring—in a word, +just those articles of food which your +dear mamma has nowadays to order +specially from the most expensive +shops.</p> + +<p>Well, one winter evening the poor +man was enjoying (if you can call it so) +his frugal supper as above, when there +came a gentle tap at the door; and +on opening it he perceived upon the +threshold a very old woman dressed in +a cloak of faded rags. She was so old +and so remarkably ugly that had she +been a duchess not the most inventive +of reporters could have done better +for her than "distinguished looking." +So the woodcutter, not unnaturally, +regarded his visitor with some suspicion.</p> + +<p>"Kind Sir," quavered the old woman, +"I perish with hunger. Grant me, I +entreat you, a crust of bread."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the woodcutter—to gain +time. He was, of course, well aware +that there was at least a sporting +chance of the old woman being a fairy +in disguise, in which case it would be +perfectly sickening to have neglected +so good a thing. On the other hand +he knew also that there were a great +many undeserving cases. As he was +deliberating, however, he perceived +beneath the old woman's gown the +glitter of a white satin toe, and this +decided him to risk it. [N.B. For our +youthful readers, this is an infallible +sign for the detection of disguised +fairies—try it at the next pantomime +you go to.] "Come in and welcome, +Mother," said the woodcutter, and flung +wide the door.</p> + +<p>Accordingly the old woman entered +the hut, and having done apparent +justice to what was left of the woodcutter's +meal, "Now," said she, striking +an appropriate attitude, "behold!" +and in the twinkling of an eye there +she stood, the complete fairy, all +shimmer and spangles.</p> + +<p>"Well!" exclaimed the woodcutter, +looking as astonished as he could +manage, "I haven't a notion how that's +done!"</p> + +<p>"And as a reward for your hospitality," +continued the fairy, "choose +three wishes, and they shall be granted."</p> + +<p>"I assure you," began the woodcutter +politely, "nothing was further +from my——" but a look in the fairy's +eyes stopped him. "Of course, if you +insist," he said; adding in rather a +different tone, "Perhaps you'll excuse +me for putting the matter on a business-like +footing."</p> + +<p>So saying, he produced from his +pocket a small pamphlet entitled, <i>On +Transactions with Fairies; with Some +Hints to Beginners</i>. Having studied +this for a moment, "I suppose," said +the woodcutter, "that by 'wishes' you +mean without restriction? Not anything +within reason, or economies of +that sort?"</p> + +<p>The visitor looked surprised and a +little hurt. "There is no such thing +as reason in Fairyland," she said stiffly.</p> + +<p>"The mistake was mine," said the +woodcutter.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114"></a>[pg 114]</span> + +<p>"Only one wish is closed to you," +resumed the fairy; "you may not wish +to have any more wishes."</p> + +<p>"That's a pity," said the woodcutter, +"especially as I'd only just thought of; +it."</p> + +<p>"An obvious precaution that we were +obliged to take in our own interests. +We lost heavily in that way at one +time. But consider well. You have +the choice of wealth beyond the dreams +of avarice. You can become the most +powerful monarch in the world. Beauty +can be yours, or wisdom or piety. You +can—"</p> + +<p>"I wonder," asked the woodcutter, +"if you'd mind not talking for a +moment? This is a delicate crisis +and demands concentration. I think +that first of all," he continued +thoughtfully, "I will suggest +that you endow me with +perfect and unalterable self-esteem +for ever, so that in +case I make a fool of myself +over the other two wishes I +shall not have the misery of +perceiving it."</p> + +<p>"It is done," said the fairy, +and at once the woodcutter +was sensible of an inward +elation like the effect of good +champagne, only more so.</p> + +<p>"I'm really managing this +rather well," he thought with +a smile. "I wish the foreman +of the lumber works, +who called me a fool yesterday, +could see me now!"</p> + +<p>And immediately there was +the foreman, blinking and +rubbing his eyes, and gazing +with irritation at the fairy +and the woodcutter. The +latter laughed pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"That," he said to the fairy, "is +distinctly one up to you! If it wasn't +for the gift of self-esteem I should be +calling myself every kind of idiot. But +the best of us are liable to error!"</p> + +<p>"You have now," the fairy reminded +him, "one wish left. Will you desire +that your task-master here be returned +to the place whence he came?"</p> + +<p>"I will not," said the woodcutter. +"If it amuses him to stay, he is quite +welcome. If not, I imagine him to be +capable of walking. Let me see. At +the present moment the only wants +I can suggest are both few and simple; +a million pounds invested in Government +stock, the constitution of a +gladiator, and to be as wise as the +greatest fool on earth imagines himself—these +are the lot. But no doubt +I shall recollect others presently."</p> + +<p>"One wish only," the fairy repeated +a little sharply, "and that without +delay, for time presses."</p> + +<p>"You needn't rub it in," said the +woodcutter. "I have already made +my choice. Are you ready? Go! +I wish to have everything I really +want in the world." He paused expectantly, +and even a little apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"It is done," said the fairy; but +nothing happened.</p> + +<p>"That's all right!" said the woodcutter +with obvious relief. "I will +now, as an extra, wish both you and +the foreman good evening."</p> + +<p>Whereupon he bowed them politely +out of the hut and returned chuckling +to his hygienic diet. Which appears +to show that even in the year Once +men were not always the fools that +they are usually represented.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>AIDS TO ADVERTISERS.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/114.png"><img width="100%" src="images/114.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><span class="sc">Miles of Free Advertisements by using Rubber Letter +Soles. (These can be inked at will by bulb attached to +tubes running down legs of operator.)</span></p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE NOSE HAS IT.</h2> + +<p>I was presiding at one of my periodical +stocktakings.</p> + +<p>"Sort them all out," I had said, +"and let me see them."</p> + +<p>When I had reached home they were +all there, on view.</p> + +<p>There were thirty-four this time. +I went through them—A.H.L., T.W.T., +E.F., G.H., M.L.K., O.T., B., F.W.H., +and so forth.</p> + +<p>"What a lot," I said.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I think it's the biggest lot +you've ever had. Last time there were +only seventeen."</p> + +<p>"And what did we do about them?" +I asked.</p> + +<p>"You went through them and nothing +happened."</p> + +<p>"I didn't send any back?" I said in +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"No. You got ready to, and then, I +don't know why, but you didn't."</p> + +<p>"What a low trick!" I said. "Worse +than borrowing books. Some of these +are pretty good, aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, this one"—holding up F.W.H.—"is +a beauty. The very finest +quality."</p> + +<p>I took it and felt it.</p> + +<p>"It is," I said. "I wonder where +he buys them. Bond Street, I suppose. +Is there anything else as good +as that one?"</p> + +<p>"No, nothing quite so good; but +these are all right;" and I was handed +E.F. and M.L.K.</p> + +<p>I felt them too.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "they're first-rate."</p> + +<p>I laid them on one side.</p> + +<p>"Very well," I said, gathering the +rest into a bunch, "see that all those +go back with my compliments, +best thanks and regrets +for the delay. I'll keep these +three a day or so longer for +patterns."</p> + +<p>Did I say that all this +happened last year? It did.</p> + +<p>Yesterday I had another +borrowed-handkerchief +parade and found forty-three. +The spectacle was not without +its pathos. F.W.H. now +had a lot of holes; so had +E.F. and M.L.K. But of a +softness still!</p> + +<p>All the old friends were +there too, in spite of what I +had directed.</p> + +<p>"I thought these were to +have gone back," I said. +"Didn't I say so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but—"</p> + +<p>"But what?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't think you really +meant it."</p> + +<p>I suppose I didn't.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Herr Ballin ... spends his whole day +in the offices of his company on the Alster, +and rarely leaves Hamburg except for business +journeys or to escape from some public +cemetery."—<i>Manchester Guardian.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Why is he so unpopular?</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Some day, perhaps a few centuries hence, +if it is desired to turn the ship to the starboard, +the order starboard will be given, and +to the star-order 'starboard' will be given, +and to the star-simpler, does it not?"</p> + +<p><i>Naval and Military Record.</i> +</p></blockquote> + + +<p>Much.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"With the exception of the police, Press +representatives, and photographers there were +comparatively few people in the thoroughfare. +The photographers were requested by the police +to refrain from operating, and they withdrew, +while the remainder found their virgil very +cold and unexciting."</p> + +<p><i>Newcastle Daily Journal.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We confess that the Roman poet often +used to leave us cold and unexcited too.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115"></a>[pg 115]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/115.png"><img width="100%" src="images/115.png" alt="" /></a> + <p><i>First Motorist</i> (<i>after very narrow shave</i>). "<span class="sc">But <i>why</i> all this fuss? We haven't damaged you. You can't bring an action +against us.</span>"</p> + <p><i>Second Motorist.</i> "<span class="sc">I <i>know</i> I can't, sir, I <i>know</i> I cant; that's just my point.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>LOVE'S LABOUR.</h2> + +<p>I walked into Charles's room with +undoubted meaning—that is to say, he +could see I intended to be there.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" said Charles. "Help yourself +to a chair."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," I said—"thanks," and I +sat down.</p> + +<p>Charles looked at me thoughtfully. +"There's something the matter," he +said.</p> + +<p>"Ah! You've noticed it too, Charles. +I thought so myself."</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea what it is?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>I looked him steadily in the face. +"Charles," I began, "you are a stockbroker. +You know the value of money." +He groaned.</p> + +<p>"Very well, I have a question to ask +you—a simple financial question. It is +this. What, in your opinion as a stockbroker, +a level-headed stockbroker, is +the least one can start on?"</p> + +<p>"It all depends," he said. "Of course +there's the deposit of securities, £1000, +and then—"</p> + +<p>I waved my hand. "My dear man," +I said, "I'm not thinking of marrying +the Stock Exchange."</p> + +<p>Charles closed his eyes. "Good +Lord," he murmured. "Poor old thing. +I never thought of this. Take a cigarette—or +perhaps you don't smoke now."</p> + +<p>I took a cigarette with a fine independence. +I carried it further and +borrowed a match.</p> + +<p>"Now," I said, "we must try and +keep to the point. What is the least +one can start on?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he replied. "I've +never begun. By the way, I must +congratulate you. Who is she?"</p> + +<p>"Daphne," I said, and smiled wanly.</p> + +<p>"You don't look well."</p> + +<p>"I love her," I said simply, and the +pathos of it all fairly gripped me.</p> + +<p>Charles smoothed his hair. "We'd +better stick to business," he said.</p> + +<p>In an instant I was a business man. +"Right," I said crisply. "Let me put +the question in another way. What is +the least on which one can start?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it all depends on what sort +of an establishment you wish to keep +up. If you—"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," I said quickly, "is good +enough for Daphne. She's so absolutely +sweet. She sings, Charles, +divinely. She dresses perfectly. She +plays the pianoforte exquisitely. She +sings, did I say, divinely."</p> + +<p>"Talking of establishments," said +Charles—</p> + +<p>"You're right," I agreed, and I +moved into a chair by the table and +drew out my fountain pen. "We shall +want a house," I began helpfully.</p> + +<p>"A house? Oh, yes, I know. One +of those things with rooms. Just one +house would do for a start, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>I regarded him sorrowfully. "Charles, +this is a serious matter."</p> + +<p>"There's humour in everything if +you look for it. How about eight hundred?"</p> + +<p>"Eight hundred!" I laughed brokenly.</p> + +<p>"Well, seven hundred?"</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha!"</p> + +<p>"Six hundred? Dash it, that's very +little."</p> + +<p>"Charles," I pleaded.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to be hard," he said, +"but in justice to the people who come +to stay with you I can't go any lower."</p> + +<p>"Not if we did without wine?"</p> + +<p>"Six hundred."</p> + +<p>"Wine and cigars, Charles?"</p> + +<p>"Six hundred."</p> + +<p>"I'll give up auction."</p> + +<p>Charles cleared his throat as though +about to make a concession.</p> + +<p>"Make it five," I pleaded. "Make it +five and you shall be my best man."</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said, "I make it five +hundred."</p> + +<p>"And now, Charles, good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Why good-bye?"</p> + +<p>"I love her," I said simply.</p> + +<p>"Poor old thing," he said. "Let me +know about the wedding. I must make +a point of being there."</p> + +<p>I pressed his hand. "You're a +brick," I said.</p> + +<p>Then I hurried out into a taxi and +drove to Daphne's.</p> + +<p>She refused me.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116"></a>[pg 116]</span> + +<h2>THE LEAN-TO SHED.</h2> + +<p>(<i>Communicated by an eight-year-old.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I've a palace set in a garden fair,</p> +<p>And, oh, but the flowers are rich and rare,</p> +<p class="i4">Always growing</p> +<p class="i4">And always blowing</p> +<p>Winter or summer—it doesn't matter—</p> +<p>For there's never a wind that dares to scatter</p> +<p>The wonderful petals that scent the air</p> +<p>About the walls of my palace there.</p> +<p>And the palace itself is very old,</p> +<p>And it's built of ivory splashed with gold.</p> +<p>It has silver ceilings and jasper floors</p> +<p>And stairs of marble and crystal doors;</p> +<p>And whenever I go there, early or late,</p> +<p>The two tame dragons who guard the gate</p> +<p>And refuse to open the frowning portals</p> +<p>To sisters, brothers and other mortals,</p> +<p class="i4">Get up with a grin</p> +<p class="i4">And let me in.</p> +<p>And I tickle their ears and pull their tails</p> +<p>And pat their heads and polish their scales;</p> +<p>And they never attempt to flame or fly,</p> +<p>Being quelled by me and my human eye.</p> +<p>Then I pour them drink out of golden flagons,</p> +<p>Drink for my two tame trusty dragons....</p> +<p class="i4">But John,</p> +<p>Who's a terrible fellow for chattering on,</p> +<p class="i4">John declares</p> +<p class="i4">They are Teddy-bears;</p> +<p>And the palace itself, he has often said,</p> +<p>Is only the gardener's lean-to shed.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>In the vaulted hall where we have the dances</p> +<p>There are suits of armour and swords and lances,</p> +<p>Plenty of steel-wrought who's-afraiders,</p> +<p>All of them used by real crusaders;</p> +<p>Corslets, helmets and shields and things</p> +<p>Fit to be worn by warrior-kings,</p> +<p class="i4">Glittering rows of them—</p> +<p class="i4">Think of the blows of them,</p> +<p class="i6">Lopping,</p> +<p class="i6">Chopping,</p> +<p class="i6">Smashing</p> +<p class="i6">And slashing</p> +<p>The Paynim armies at Ascalon....</p> +<p>But, bother the boy, here comes our John</p> +<p>Munching a piece of currant cake,</p> +<p>Who says the lance is a broken rake,</p> +<p>And the sword with its keen Toledo blade</p> +<p>Is a hoe, and the dinted shield a spade,</p> +<p>Bent and useless and rusty-red,</p> +<p>In the gardener's silly old lean-to shed.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And sometimes, too, when the night comes soon</p> +<p>With a great magnificent tea-time moon,</p> +<p>Through the nursery-window I peep and see</p> +<p>My palace lit for a revelry;</p> +<p>And I think I shall try to go there instead</p> +<p>Of going to sleep in my dull small bed.</p> +<p class="i4">But who are these</p> +<p class="i4">In the shade of the trees</p> +<p class="i4">That creep so slow</p> +<p class="i4">In a stealthy row?</p> +<p>They are Indian braves, a terrible band,</p> +<p>Each with a tomahawk in his hand,</p> +<p>And each has a knife <i>without a sheath</i></p> +<p>Fiercely stuck in his gleaming teeth.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Are the dragons awake? Are the dragons sleepers?</p> +<p>Will they meet and scatter these crafty creepers?</p> +<p>What ho! ... But John, who has sorely tried me,</p> +<p>Trots up and flattens his nose beside me;</p> +<p>Against the window he flattens it</p> +<p class="i4">And says he can see</p> +<p class="i4">As well as me,</p> +<p>But never an Indian—not a bit;</p> +<p>Not even the top of a feathered head,</p> +<p>But only a wall and the lean-to shed.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>R. C. L.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>IN EXTREMIS.</h2> + +<p>A Nut lay dying. He was twenty-five. He had had a +good time—too good—and the end was near.</p> + +<p>There was no hope, but alleviation was possible. "Is +there anything," he was asked, "that you would like?"</p> + +<p>He was plucky and prepared for the worst.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I'd like to know what I've spent since +I was twenty. Could that be arranged?"</p> + +<p>"Easily," they said.</p> + +<p>"Good," he replied. "Then tell me what I've spent on +my bally old stomach—on food."</p> + +<p>"On food," they replied. "We find that you have spent +on yourself an average of a pound a day for food. For five +years that is, roughly, £1825."</p> + +<p>"Roughly?" said the Nut.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Counting one leap year, it would be £1826. But +then you have entertained with some freedom, bringing the +total to £3075."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Nut. "And what about drinks?"</p> + +<p>"We find," was the reply, "that on drinks your average +has been eighteen shillings a day, or £1643 8<i>s.</i> 0<i>d.</i> in all."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" said the Nut. "What a noble thirst! +And clothes?"</p> + +<p>"The item of clothes comes to £940," they said.</p> + +<p>"Only three figures!" said the Nut. "How did I come +to save that odd £60, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"Not by any idea of economy," they replied. "Merely a +want of time."</p> + +<p>"And let's see," said the Nut, "what else does one spend +money on? Oh, yes, taxis. How much for taxis?"</p> + +<p>"Your taxis," they said, "work out at seven shillings a +day, or £639 2<i>s.</i> 0<i>d.</i>"</p> + +<p>"And tips?" the Nut inquired.</p> + +<p>"Tips," they said, "come to £456."</p> + +<p>The Nut lay back exhausted and oxygen was administered. +He was very near the end.</p> + +<p>"One thing more," he managed to ask. "What have I +paid in cloak-room fees for my hat and stick?"</p> + +<p>"Only £150," they said.</p> + +<p>But it was enough: he fell back dead.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"An extremely able statement of the case for Federation is made +up in a little book by Mr. Murray Macdonald and Lord Charnwood, +which is just published (T. Fisher Unwin, 22<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>)"—<i>Daily News.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Look out for a really big book by the same authors, at £22.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>We have long waited for a good definition of "tact," and +here it is in <i>The Transvaal Leader</i>:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"The police handled the large crowds who assembled at the station +with considerable tact. One obstreperous fellow who appeared to be +the worse for liquor got the butt-end of a rifle in his jaw after grossly +insulting a constable, and he was then chased off by the crowd, who +appeared to appreciate the tact of the police." +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p>A chance for Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span>:—The Deforestation +of Bootle.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117"></a>[pg 117]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/117.png"><img width="100%" src="images/117.png" alt="" /></a> + <p><i>Instructor.</i> "<span class="sc">Now then, none of that hupside down flying 'ere; you ain't in the haviation corps.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"FOR PROFESSIONAL SERVICES."</h2> + +<p>"You know this sort of thing isn't +good enough," said I, returning the +document to Minerva.</p> + +<p>"His charges are certainly high," +observed the lady of the house; "but +I don't think, Jack, we could get as +good a doctor anywhere for less money."</p> + +<p>"I don't complain about the charges; +I suppose they are all right. What +I object to is this pompous way of +telling me I am in his debt: '<i>Mr. John +Spratt to Dr. Thom. For Professional +Services to date, Ten Guineas</i>.'"</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, they all do it like +that."</p> + +<p>"Then they shouldn't. Tradesmen +give full particulars of all charges made +for their services: why not doctors?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they would never agree to <i>that</i>, +Jack!" said Minerva in surprise. "It +isn't etiquette. After all, a doctor is a +doctor!"</p> + +<p>"Let us hope so. At times I doubt it. +But that is not the story. How do you +suppose I am to check this account +without the necessary details?"</p> + +<p>"My dear," exclaimed Minerva, "how +positively quaint you are! One never +dreams of checking a doctor's account; +one simply pays. Imagine asking a +doctor for an invoice! The idea!"</p> + +<p>"And a jolly good idea too," I said. +"Then we should know where we were. +Would you pass your butcher's bills if +they merely said, '<i>For Commercial +Services to date</i>'?"</p> + +<p>"That is quite a different matter. +Doctors are not butchers."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes surgeons are, so it comes +to much the same. Anyhow, I object +to paying money without knowing what +for. Let's apply for an invoice, if only +for the principle of the thing."</p> + +<p>"We'll do nothing of the sort," said +Minerva rather sharply. "It sounds +so mean, Jack, to ask a doctor for a +detailed account—almost as if we didn't +trust him."</p> + +<p>"I shall mention that to the butcher +next time I see him, and to the other +tradesmen. It will save you a lot of +trouble about the domestic accounts."</p> + +<p>"Don't be absurd. If you're so +anxious to have those petty details I +think I can remember all the doctor's +visits for you, without worrying him."</p> + +<p>I drew out a sheet of account-paper.</p> + +<p>"The first time he came this year," +she began, "was to attend Tommy. +You remember—after that New Year +party. He called twice—no, three +times to see him."</p> + +<p>"'<i>Item</i> 1,' I wrote. '<i>To overhauling +and repairing Tommy's tummy, time +and material, say 15s</i>.' When Tommy +next overeats himself I shall attend to +his little business myself. Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Then there was Aunt Maria who +was staying with us and imagined she +had appendicitis, poor old thing! You +remember the specialist, Jack?"</p> + +<p>"I remember the specialist's fee—three +guineas for absolute tomfoolery! +'<i>Item 2. To diagnosing Aunt Maria +and failing to find anything wrong and +recommending appendicitis</i>.... ' Shall +we say a guinea for Aunt Maria's put-up +job? I ought to get my money +back since nothing was found in Aunt +Maria. There should be at least a discount +on false alarms."</p> + +<p>"Then there was Baby," continued +Minerva. "We didn't know what was +wrong with him—and really I don't +think now there was very much the +matter, although I felt so anxious at +the time. But the doctor never would +explain fully."</p> + +<p>"Of course not; that would be giving +the game away. '<i>Item 3. To +baby to rights, 2s. 11d</i>.'"</p> + +<p>"Two-and-elevenpence for baby!" +protested Minerva. "If Aunt Maria +was worth a guinea—"</p> + +<p>"She was not. I said so at the time."</p> + +<p>"—Baby is certainly worth more +than two-and-elevenpence."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118"></a>[pg 118]</span> + +<p>"Well, make it two pounds eleven. +I don't care either way. What I want +is an approximate idea of the way this +fellow makes up his total."</p> + +<p>"If he's charging two pounds eleven +for all the little he did to Baby, he's +certainly charging too much, Jack; +and you ought to see him about it at +once."</p> + +<p>"Well, what next?"</p> + +<p>"That was all, I think.... Oh, no. +There was the time about Maudie's +cold."</p> + +<p>"Oh, those kids' colds!"</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, I have spoken to +the children about it until I am tired. +Do be reasonable."</p> + +<p>"'<i>Item 4. To thawing +Maudie's chest, lubricating +throat, and taking hard edge +off voice, time and expenses.</i>' ... +How much?"</p> + +<p>"He was only twice at +Maudie, three times at +Tommy. What did you put +down for Tommy?"</p> + +<p>"Fifteen bob; but Maudie +is bigger than Tommy."</p> + +<p>"She is big for her age," +reflected Minerva. "I remember +asking the doctor if +he thought she was growing +too fast."</p> + +<p>"He'd call that a consultation."</p> + +<p>"'<i>Item 5. To advising on +rate of speed recommended +for Maudie's growth, one +guinea.</i>'"</p> + +<p>"I might have saved that +charge," sighed Minerva. +"But that was all. How +much does it come to?"</p> + +<p>"Allowing two visits to +Maudie to be equal to three +visits to Tommy, the total +bill amounts to six pounds +three shillings."</p> + +<p>"But that's four pounds +seven less than he charges."</p> + +<p>"And observe I am allowing two +pounds eleven for Baby's fidgets—or +rather for your fidgets about baby—on +the basis of Aunt Maria being worth +a guinea a whim."</p> + +<p>"Two pounds eleven for looking at +Baby's tongue every other day when +there was nothing really the matter +with him at all! It's preposterous, +Jack. There must be something wrong. +You must see Dr. Thom at once about +that account. Call to-morrow, dear, +on your way to town."</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>I called. After all there is, as +Minerva says, something inexpressibly +mean in asking a doctor for a detailed +account. This thought occurred to +me as Dr. Thom shook hands, beaming +as usual with that genial heart-warming +smile of his.</p> + +<p>"Ah—er—Doctor—my wife would +like to see you first time you're passing," +I managed to say.</p> + +<p>"Nothing serious, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing much. A little matter of +detail—that is—I mean Maudie's chest—or +rather Tommy's stomach."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we'll soon put that right, +bless you. Don't you worry yourself +about that, Mr. Spratt. Beautiful +morning, isn't it?"</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>A little rough on Tommy, perhaps, +but rougher on me.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE AMERICA CUP.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/118.png"><img width="100%" src="images/118.png" alt=""/></a> + <p>Here comes two noble beasts in, a moon and a lion.</p> + <p><i>A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act. V., Scene 1.</i></p> + <p>[It is announced that the Defender is to be named <i>Half Moon</i>.]</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE WARRANT.</h3> + +<p>Our village cobbler, Roberts, has +reduced the principle, "Put not thy +trust in any child of man," to its very +lowest and worst. He regards himself +as simply born to be robbed and +oppressed. Yet is he so mild and uncomplaining +and unassuming about it +all that no one, even the most persistent +robber and oppressor, could ever find it +in his heart to do him down. But +even so his pessimism and readiness to +be done are such that he must make it +very hard for people to spare him sometimes. +I have this story from our +local banker, who was called upon by +the Income Producer Company, Limited +(of some obscure address in the City of +London) to put the matter right.</p> + +<p>It appears that Roberts had, after +many years of economy, amassed some +savings, which from the first he +regarded as bound to land him in +trouble. He indulged in twenty £1 +shares in the I. P. Co., Ltd., only because +he had to do something with the +twenty pounds. He told everybody +that he neither expected to see his +capital again nor even to get any interest +on it. He hinted darkly at worse +things to come from the transaction, +though what these might be he didn't +pretend to know.</p> + +<p>I have no inside knowledge of the +I. P. Company, except that its stock +doesn't appear among the +use of Trustee Securities. +But whatever trustees may +think of it, it did declare +at the end of 1913 (after a +somewhat prolonged silence) +a decent dividend on +its ordinary shares. Maybe +this was by reason of its +innate honesty; maybe it +was simply because it +hadn't the heart to deny +his rights to such a man as +Roberts. Anyhow it declared +its dividend, and, +what is more, proceeded to +pay it in the manner usual +to limited companies.</p> + +<p>And so in due course +Roberts received a formidable-looking +piece of paper, +with the title, in very impressive +lettering, "<span class="sc">Dividend +Warrant</span>," and below +the figures £1 8<i>s.</i> 3<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>There must be many, +among the uninstructed +classes, who have no idea +what a dividend warrant +may be, but few would, I +think, at once take the dismal +view of the thing that +Roberts took.</p> + +<p>By return of post the Secretary of the +Income Producer Company, Limited, +received an envelope addressed in a +shaky hand and enclosing a postal +order for a pound, together with a +letter from Roberts, in which he prayed +for a few days of grace, in which a +poor but honest old man might raise +the further 8<i>s.</i> 3<i>d.</i> thus demanded of +him by legal process.</p> + + +<hr /> +<blockquote><p> +"The bride will be supported by five piers."</p> + +<p><i>Evening Standard.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Read this aloud to your wife and see +if she isn't jealous. And then try her +with this from <i>The Greater Britain +Messenger</i>:—</p> + +<blockquote> +"Big Dams and what they mean to the Church." +</blockquote> + +<p>She ought to be shocked.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119"></a>[pg 119]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/119.png"><img width="100%" src="images/119.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><i>McTavish.</i> "<span class="sc">Noo, ma frien', see me sendin' the wee ba' scootin' ower the +bonny bur-r-r-n!</span>"</p> + <p>"<i>McTavish.</i> (<i>to caddie</i>). "<span class="sc">Awa', ye great sumph, an' tak' it oot o' yon dur-r-r-ty +ditch!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<p>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Charles Inge</span> has brought to the +shaping of <i>Square Pegs</i> (<span class="sc">Methuen</span>) some +good and healthy thoughts about life and +love and the waste of both, so that you get +a wholesome impression of soundness and +sincerity. And there's a dedication which +makes one think the author is writing of +realities which have been seen at close +quarters. <i>Bernard Farquharson</i>, the big-hearted +colonial, returning to England and +seeing the waste of potentially good men +in preposterous casual jobs which cannot +lead anywhere, longs to give them the +chances of the big spaces in South Africa +(where, of course, there are no Labour +troubles and a man's a man for a' that!). +He ventures his capital in <i>The Dictator</i>, a +Fleet Street derelict, in order to promote +his emigration scheme, and his capital +departs before either his public or the big-wigs +are convinced. I can't think that +<i>Bernard</i> had really thought out his scheme. +And I wonder what he would have done if +the little band of square pegs he got +together in desperation hadn't had the +sense to refuse his offer to ship them over +to South Africa with his few remaining +sovereigns. They would certainly have +been in a fine round hole at the other +side. But <i>Bernard</i> did a better thing. +The only emigrant in his party was +<i>Leonora</i>, and I like to think they lived +happily ever after on his little orange-farm. +I can only hope that his rival, +<i>Pike-Sarpe</i>, a horrible little unctuous cad +of a solicitor, will shortly do something to +attract the official attention of the Law +Society.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>There will, I have no doubt, be joy in +many a gentle heart over the glad news +that Mrs. <span class="sc">George Wemyss</span>, whose <i>Professional +Aunt</i> made for her so many friends, +has created yet another charming relation. +<i>Grannie for Granted</i> (<span class="sc">Constable</span>) is the +story of a delightful old lady who from +her country home takes a placid and +grandmaternal interest in the affairs of +her descendants—their love affairs mostly, of course, +or the engaging chatter of the smaller third generation. +Some of the sayings of the latter are worthy +examples of the "good enough for <i>Punch</i>" variety, which, +as most persons with married friends know too well, is a +phrase covering a wide range of quality. Most of them, +however, are excellent and ring true. Of the love-affairs I +feel myself a less competent judge, but I should fancy their +appeal will be compelling to the expert. It is perhaps +impossible for a book of this type wholly to avoid the +charge of being sugary or pretty-pretty, but with my hand +on my heart I can declare that Mrs. <span class="sc">Wemyss</span> has done less +to deserve it than most other writers would. I shudder, +for example, to imagine what certain Transatlantic novelists +would have done with the same material. In fine, here is +as pleasant and likeable a treatise on <i>l'art d'être Grand'-mère</i> +as anyone need wish to read. I am uncertain as to +the precise significance of the title, which may refer to the +fact that you have only to ask a grannie and get what you +want, or to the equal truism that grandmotherly devotion +is often accepted as a matter of course. However it doesn't +really matter. The important thing is that the public have +asked Mrs. <span class="sc">Wemyss</span> for "another of the same," and the +request has been appropriately "granted."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>I happen to have incontrovertible proof (of the external +kind) that the one and only Mr. G. K. <span class="sc">Chesterton</span> is the +author of <i>The Flying Inn</i> (<span class="sc">Methuen</span>). Otherwise I should +have judged, by internal evidence, that it was the work +of an inferior writer of the same name as himself, and, +curiously enough, the same initials. Though hesitating to +encourage litigation I should have been inclined to recommend +Mr. <span class="sc">Chesterton</span> to apply as soon as possible for an +injunction to restrain this person from doing anything +further to damage the real G. K. C.'s reputation. I should +have hinted that every now and then I had come upon +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120"></a>[pg 120]</span> +a passage which might well be the work of the author of +<i>Heretics and Tremendous Trifles</i>, and that only the intolerable +dulness of the book as a whole persuaded me that it +had been written by another hand. It deals with the +adventures of <i>Lord Ivywood</i> and <i>Captain Dalroy</i>, men of +opposite views on the subject of temperance. <i>Lord Ivywood</i>, +having by some mysterious means (not explained) +acquired despotic power in England, issued an edict that +all inns should be abolished. At the same time he decreed +that alcoholic liquor might be sold wherever an inn-sign +stood. <i>Captain Dalroy</i> accordingly stole the sign of "The +Old Ship," and carried it about with him, setting it up +wherever his fancy dictated. And that, on my honour as a +Learned Clerk, is the whole plot of a fat, closely-printed +book of more than three hundred pages. I hope I have a +fairly catholic appreciation of humour; certainly, I can +enjoy most things, from <span class="sc">Meredith</span> to the American coloured +comic supplement; but <i>The Flying Inn</i> was too much for +me. It cannot have been easy +to write, even given useful +characters like <i>Lord Ivywood</i> +and <i>Captain Dalroy</i>, whose +remarks can be made to run +into three or four pages; but +it is considerably harder to +read. There are good things in +it, just as there is gold (I understand) +in sea-water, but the +process of extraction is tedious.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Miss <span class="sc">Una Silberrad</span>'s novels +are invariably good, and <i>Cuddy +Yarborough's Daughter</i> (<span class="sc">Constable</span>), +is among the best of +them. <i>Cuddy</i> himself is delightfully +irresponsible, and I felt a +pang of disappointment when +he disappeared from the scene, +although, considering that he +became increasingly lazy and +comatose as he grew older, his +decease, perhaps, was not premature. +Apart from his affability, +<i>Cuddy's</i> only claim to distinction +lay in the fact that he +was the father of his daughter. +<i>Violet's</i> lot fell in rather stony +places; as a child she was practically the guardian of her +own father, and after his death she was governess to the +child of a woman as irresponsible as <i>Cuddy</i>, but not half so +comfortable to live with. Men swarmed round this <i>Lady +Lassiter</i>, and she loved most of them. Under the circumstances +it was fortunate that she had a most unsuspicious +and tolerant husband. With no hesitation I recommend the +tale of <i>Cuddy</i> and his daughter to the notice of all except the +ultra-moderns. But, lest I should fail as a critic if I did no +carping, I will say that, though I do not belong to any +Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Infinitives, I +should like Miss <span class="sc">Silberrad</span> to look at page 94, where she +will find one that is not only split but split to smithereens.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>On the paper wrapper of <i>Sarah Eden</i> (<span class="sc">Mills and Boon</span>) +the publishers themselves call it "a novel of great distinction." +Filled as I am with the natural lust of the +reviewer to contradict a publisher about his own wares, I +am bound to admit that I can find no phrase more apt for +the impression this book has made upon me. There is +exceptional distinction in the scheme of Miss E. S. <span class="sc">Stevens'</span> +story, and there is even more in the grave charm and dignity +of its telling. It is the record of the development of a +singular and beautiful character; "a spiritual adventure" +might have been its sub-title, for the events in <i>Sarah Eden's</i> +life were those of mind rather than body. There are two +main divisions of the story: in the first we watch <i>Sarah</i> +from her beginnings as a quiet introspective child in her +Devon home, and through the short course of her unsatisfactory +married life. With considerable skill the author +has here shown the various forces that were at work +building up the heroine's character, and that strange blending +of a practical and commanding efficiency with the +idealism of a dreamer that exactly fitted her for the part +she plays in the second half of her story. The change +comes with the sudden death of her husband, and the first +of the ecstatic visions that compelled <i>Sarah Eden</i> to leave +her native country and prepare a place for her Divine Master +in the home of His first coming. Thenceforward the scene +is in Jerusalem, where <i>Sarah</i> establishes herself at the head +of her strange little company of +fanatics. You can see how large +is the plan of such a tale; it is +one of which you could not +reasonably expect a wholly +satisfactory ending, and to my +mind the latter portion is the +weaker. But there are some +delightful scenes of life in +modern Jerusalem. And <i>Sarah +Eden</i> herself remains always a +profoundly moving personality. +For her alone the book deserves +to be called "a novel of great +distinction."</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>BEHIND THE SCENES IN THE PUBLIC SERVICE.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/120.png"><img width="100%" src="images/120.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><span class="sc">Municipal inflator preparing a coachman for an important +public function.</span></p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A CRY FOR GUIDANCE.</h2> + +<p>(<i>In a weekly paper, a correspondent—presumably +in the +first raptures—recommends +falling in love as a cure +for all worries.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>It is all very well to go talking like that,</p> +<p class="i2">But tell me, pray, how does one do it?</p> +<p>How feel at the sight of a hobble or hat</p> +<p class="i2">A passionate impulse to woo it?</p> +<p>I'm eager enough of my woes to be rid,</p> +<p class="i2">But Cupid needs help in the placing</p> +<p>Of shafts in a heart that's apparently hid</p> +<p class="i2">'Neath a tough pachydermatous casing.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I have mingled with maidens—the tender, the hard,</p> +<p class="i2">The coy and the clinging—in legions;</p> +<p>But none has contrived to inflict on the bard</p> +<p> A jolt in the cardiac regions;</p> +<p>Must I turn for assistance to science or art,</p> +<p class="i2">Or put my predicament meekly</p> +<p>To "Mona" who handles affairs of the heart</p> +<p class="i2">In <i>Sensitive Simperings</i> (weekly)?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Your wonderful cure, my beneficent lad,</p> +<p class="i2">For me, who am ready to try it,</p> +<p>Is robbed of its worth by your failure to add</p> +<p class="i2">A hint as to how they supply it.</p> +<p>So nice a prescription I'm anxious to trust;</p> +<p class="i2">'Tis milder than pills or emulsion;</p> +<p>But I can't <i>fall</i> in love; I require to be thrust,</p> +<p class="i2">And you ought to supply the propulsion.</p> + </div> </div> +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +146, February 11, 1914, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, VOL. 146, FEB. 11, 1914 *** + +***** This file should be named 22573-h.htm or 22573-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/5/7/22573/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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