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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/22602-8.txt b/22602-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e63d74 --- /dev/null +++ b/22602-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2217 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 150, +January 5, 1916, by Various, Edited by Owen Seaman + + +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. 150, January 5, 1916 + + +Author: Various + +Editor: Owen Seaman + +Release Date: September 14, 2007 [eBook #22602] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, +VOL. 150, JANUARY 5, 1916*** + + +E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, David King, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 22602-h.htm or 22602-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/6/0/22602/22602-h/22602-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/6/0/22602/22602-h.zip) + + + + + +PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI + +VOL. 150 + +JANUARY 5, 1916. + + + + + + + +The Whitefriars Press. + + + +RESOLUTIONS. + + I will not breakfast in my bed + With downy cushions at my head; + That would be very wrong--and so + Away the eggs and bacon go! + + I will not read in bed at night + And burn the dear electric light; + Nor buy another costly hat; + Oh no! I'm much too good for that. + + But I will rise before the dawn + And weed and cut and roll the lawn; + My border I will plant with veg, + Abundantly from hedge to hedge. + + And all the day I'll practise thrift + And no more happily will drift + In deeper debt, as once, alas! + --But what an awful year I'll pass. + + * * * * * + +The Art of Sinking. + + "Altogether we sank one gunboat, five steamers (one of 3,000 + tons), and 17 large sailing ships, three trains, and one railway + embankment."--_Manchester Guardian._ + + * * * * * + +Very Light Marching Order. + +From a notice issued to recruits for the New Zealand Expeditionary +Force:-- + + "You should report wearing a pair of serviceable boots, and + bring with you your toilet outfit--no additional clothing is + required." + + * * * * * + + "In a conversation with members of the Press Mr. Ford said now + was the time for peace on the basis of the _status quo anti + bellum_." + + _Scotch Paper._ + +He always spells it that way. + + * * * * * + +AN ILL-USED AUTHOR. + +"I gather, Sir," remarked my fellow-traveller, after I had put away the +writing-block on which I had been jotting down the outline of an +article, "that you are a literary man, like myself?" + +We were the only occupants of a compartment in a L. & N. W. R. carriage. +I had been too absorbed till then to notice his appearance, but I now +observed that he had rather unkempt hair, luminous eyes, and a soft hat. +"Oh, well," I admitted, "I write." + +"But I take it that, whatever you write, it is not _poetry_," he said. +What led him to this inference I cannot say, but I had to confess that +it was correct. + +"Still, even though you are not a Poet yourself, I hope," he said, "you +can feel some sympathy for one who has been so infamously treated as I +have." + +I replied that I hoped so too. + +"Then, Sir," said he, "I will tell you my unhappy story. At the +beginning of this War I was approached by certain Railway magnates who +shall be nameless. It appeared that they had realised, very rightly, +that their official notices were couched in too cold and formal a style +to reach the heart of their public. So they commissioned me to supply +what I may term the human touch. As a poet, I naturally felt that this +could only be effectively done through the medium of verse. Well, I rose +to the occasion, Sir; I produced some lines which, printed as they were +written, must infallibly have placed me at the head of all of my +contemporaries. But they were _not_ printed as they were written. In +proof of which I will trouble you to read very carefully the opening +paragraph of those 'Defence of the Realm Regulations' immediately above +your head ... Only the opening paragraph at present, please!" + +I was somewhat surprised, but, thinking it best to humour him, I read +the first sentence, which was: "_In view of possible attack by hostile +aircraft, it is necessary that the blinds of all trains should be kept +down after sunset_," and gave him my opinion of it. + +"Whether," he said, with some acerbity, "it is or is not as lucidly +expressed as you are pleased to consider, only the beginning of it is +mine. This is what I actually wrote:-- + + "'In view of possible attack + By hostile aircraft overhead, + 'Tis necessary now, alack! + Soon as old Sol has sought his bed, + That those who next the window sit, + Though they'd prefer to watch the gloaming, + Should draw the blind, nor leave a slit, + Keeping it down until they're homing, + Else on the metals will be thrown + A glowing trail as from a comet, + And Huns to whom a train is shown + Will most indubitably bomb it!' + +"That," he observed complacently, "is not only verse of the highest +order, but clearly conveys the reason for such precautions, which the +official mind chose to cut out. And now let me ask you to read the next +paragraph." I did so. "_At night-time when the blinds are drawn_" it +ran, "_passengers are requested before alighting to make sure when the +train stops that it is at the platform_." + +"Which," he cried fiercely, "is their mangled and mutilated version of +this:-- + + "'At night-time when the blinds are drawn + (As screens against those devils' spawn, + Which love the gloom, but dread the dawn), + A train may be at standstill, + Then we request 'twill not occur + That some impatient passenger, + Whose nerves are in a chronic stir, + And neither feet nor hands still, + Without preliminary peep + Will forth incontinently leap, + Alighting in a huddled heap + To lie, a limp or flat form, + In some inhospitable ditch, + If not on grittier ballast, which + (The darkness far surpassing pitch) + He took to be the platform!' + +"As to the next paragraph," he continued, "I don't complain so much, +though, personally, I consider '_Extract from Order made by the +Secretary of State for the Home Department_' a very poor paraphrase of +the resounding couplet in which I introduced him:-- + + "'Now speaks in genial tones, from heart to heart meant, + The Secretary for the Home Department!' + +"I could have overlooked that, Sir, if they had retained the lines I had +written for him. But they've only let him speak the first four +words--'_Passengers in Railway Carriages_'--and then drivel on thus: +'_which are provided with blinds must keep the blinds covered so as to +cover the windows'_--a clumsy tautology, Sir, for which I am sure no +Home Secretary would care to be held responsible, and from which I had +been at some pains to save him, as you may judge when I read you the +original text:-- + + "'Passengers in railway carriages + Possess a sense which none disparages; + So those who are not perverse or froward + May be trusted to see that the blinds are lowered, + To cover the windows so totally + That no one inside can be seen, or see. + Mem.--This need not be done, as lately decided, + If blinds for the windows have not been provided.' + +"But," he went on, "the deadliest injury those infernal officials +reserved for the last. If you read the concluding sentence, Sir, you +will observe that it begins: '_The blinds may be lifted in case of +necessity_!' (That, I need hardly say, is _entirely_ my own. There is a +sort of inspired swing in it, the true lyrical lilt with which even +red-tape has not dared to tamper! But mark how they go on): '_when the +train is at a standstill at a station, but, if lifted, they must be +lowered again before the train starts_.' And this insufferable bathos, +forsooth, was substituted for lines like these:-- + + "'The blinds may be lifted in case of necessity; + Thus, if the train at a station should halt, + And the traveller hears not its name, nor can guess it, he + Cannot be held to commit any fault, + Still farther be fined, + Should he pull up the blind + Out of mere curiosity: had he not looked + He might miss the station for which he had booked!' + +"Well," he concluded, "that is my case. But I can never put it before +the public myself. My pride would not permit me. Though, if +someone--yourself, for instance--would present my claims to redress--" + +I couldn't help thinking that he had been hardly treated, and so I +undertook to do what I could for him. He gave me his verses, also his +name, which latter I have unfortunately forgotten. However, I hope I +have redeemed my promise here in other respects. + +There are times when I wonder uneasily whether he may not have been +pulling my leg. But, after all, he could have had no possible object in +doing that. Besides, if, the next time you travel by the L. & N.-W., you +will study the printed instructions in your compartment, I fancy you +will agree with me that they corroborate his statements to a rather +remarkable extent. + +F. A. + + * * * * * + +A Christmas Trifle. + + "Some stale sponge cake is cut in slices less than an inch + thick, and these are spread generously with jam and arranged on + a crystal dish, blanched and chopped with Clara and Jo and all + their young cousins."--_The Bulletin._ + + * * * * * + +THE RUSH TO SALONIKA. + +[Illustration: Wilhelm and Franz Joseph. "FERDIE, THE POST OF HONOUR IS +YOURS." + +Ferdie. "YOU CAN HAVE IT."] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Fair Hostess_ (_entertaining wounded soldier_). "And so +one Jack Johnson buried you, and the next dug you up again and landed +you on the top of a barn! Now, what were your feelings?" + +_Tommy._ "If you'll believe me, Ma'am, I was never more surprised in all +my life."] + + * * * * * + +INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS. + +It has come as an immense relief to all true lovers of peace to learn +that such German soldiers as have been taking part in the war on the +Italian frontier have previously resigned their positions in the +KAISER'S army and been re-enrolled under the Austrian flag, so that no +untoward incident may disturb the profound peace which exists between +Germany and Italy. All the same there are elements of possible danger in +the situation which should be carefully watched. We look forward to a +time when our gallant ally may be confidently expected to advance on to +German soil, and we think it would be well for the authorities at Rome +(unless the invading host is provided with Montenegrin uniforms) to +serve out beforehand a large number of tourist coupons, available over a +wide choice of different routes. This might avert the terrible +consequences that are likely to follow a breach of relations. + +Of course it must be remembered that Italy has now signed on not to +enter into a separate peace, and no doubt the only true economy is to +make the present one go as far as possible, as it cannot be replaced. +Still, since the sinking of the _Ancona_ by a German crew (partially +whitewashed so as to look like Austrians), Italy's neutrality has become +of an extremely virulent order. + +We need hardly say that President WILSON even on his honeymoon is +closely watching the situation and thinking over it very deeply, very +slowly and very calmly, hoping to discover hints for his own future +guidance. It is said that he feels himself being drawn more and more +into the vortex, and his attitude of passive belligerency may be +followed by one of aggressive non-interference. It is common knowledge +in Washington that if he can get no satisfaction on the _Ancona_ +question he will either despatch a new note (which will be _almost_ an +ultimatum) or simply pass on and declare war on Albania. + +Portugal (as the ancient ally of Great Britain), who has already been +involved in a scrap with German troops in Angola, is naturally deeply +exercised as to what are her present relations with Turkey. The matter +is an urgent one and might become crucial in the event of a Turkish +Zeppelin drifting in a fog over Portuguese territory. + +The King of GREECE is said to have found a happy solution of his +difficulty about a Bulgarian invasion of Greece. The incoming forces are +to be provided with return tickets to Salonika and back, available only +for forty-five days, and containing a stipulation that the traveller may +not break his journey at any other point. + + * * * * * + +"FOR THIS RELIEF--" + +(_Suggested by the poster commending a recent Revue as "the last word in +syncopation."_) + + The days of our mourning are ended, + The lean years of famine are fled, + When, sick for a spoonful of aught that was tuneful, + We've sorrowed as over the dead + For Music, forlorn and unfriended, + Gone down into glimmerless gloom, + While rude "rag-time" revels were dancing a devils' + Tattoo on her tomb. + + A new dawn of promise doth redden + The rim of our Stygian night; + Our bondage is breaking--O blessed awaking + To melody merry and bright! + My heart, long o'erloaded and leaden, + Now bounds to the blue like a bird; + The shadow has shifted; with paean uplifted + I hail that "last word"! + + * * * * * + +CHARIVARIA. + +Leap Year Anticipations.--A fine spring is expected in France, Flanders +and Poland. If the weather is propitious a total eclipse will be visible +in Berlin and Vienna. + + *** + +Asked by some American journalists where the Peace Conference would be +held, Dr. SVEN HEDIN is reported to have said, "Peace will be dictated +from Berlin." And so say all of us! + + *** + +Relations between Potsdam and Sofia are said to be badly strained. Three +days after the Kaiser had issued his celebrated manifesto, "To my noble +and heroic Serbian people," FERDINAND in the Sobranje was publicly +denouncing the Serbians as obstinate, treacherous, and tyrannical. The +KAISER considers this conduct extremely tactless, and threatens, if it +continues, to spell Bulgarian with a "V." + + *** + +All hitherto-published explanations of the threatened German attack on +the Suez Canal are hereby cancelled. The fact is that the KAISER'S fleet +is increasing so rapidly that it has outgrown its present accommodation. + + *** + +During the visit of Mr. FORD'S Ark to Bergen the following notice was +posted up at the Grand Hotel:--"All members of the Henry Ford Peace +Expedition are requested to call for their laundry at the Grand Hotel, +Room 408, Tuesday evening after supper. This notice supersedes the +original plan to have the laundry delivered to each individual hotel." +It may also explain why the members of the expedition have since washed +their dirty linen in public. + + *** + +Some of the pilgrims on the _Oscar II._ were much annoyed at the +prohibition of card-playing on board. "What is the use," they asked, "of +crying _Pax_ when there are none?" + + *** + +Some strait-laced Conservatives, who were a little shocked to see the +announcement of "Mr. Balfour on the Film," were comforted on its being +pointed out to them that Mr. CHAPLIN set him the example. + + *** + +A ten-year-old girl's essay on "Patriotism":--"Patriotism is composed of +patriots, and they are people who live in Ireland and want Mr. Redmond +or other people to be King of Ireland. They are very brave, some of +them, and are so called after St. Patrick, who is Ireland's private +saint. The patriots who are brave make splendid soldiers. The patriots +who are not brave go to America." + + *** + +Lord KITCHENER, who has a choice collection of old china, has lately +added to it several fine specimens of Crown Derby. + + *** + +So many Parliamentarians have recently requested the Treasury to stop +sending them their £400 a year that a slight change in the designation +of the others is suggested--P.M. (Paid Member) instead of M.P. + + *** + +A soldier's letter: "DEAR SIS,--You ask what I want--well, for Heaven's +sake send us a barber! You never saw such heads in your life as we've +got. + +Lovingly, Bob. + +P.S.--Failing a barber send us a box of hair-pins." + + *** + +Is it true that while the Cliff Hotel at Gorleston was blazing furiously +during the gale last week a zealous official went up to the unfortunate +proprietor and threatened him with pains and penalties for allowing a +naked light to be seen far out at sea? + + *** + +We understand that since the entrance-fee was suspended and the +subscription reduced, the Automobile Club has increased its membership +so largely that the Committee are thinking of re-naming it the Omnibus. + + *** + +A conversation in the trenches:-- + +_Private Dougal McTavish_ (_late of the Alberta Police_): "Mon, in ma +section 'tis aften fafty degrees below zero. But, bless ye, 'tis dry +cold, ye'll never feel it." + +_L.C. Owen Tyrrell_ (_late of Carpentaria Telegraphs_): "Down-under it +is usually 125 in the shade. But thin it is dry heat, you are niver +sinsible of ut." + +_Corpl. James Brown_ (_late Tram Conductor, Vancouver_): "In B.C. we +stake upon 312 to 314 rainy days in the year. But it is dry rain, it +don't wet you." + + *** + +In an article on the employment of women as dentists, the writer says: +"A new charm has been added to the delights of dentistry." Optimist! + + *** + +He also says that one lady "extracted 38 teeth from nine patients, and +showed little signs of fatigue from it, either." But what about the +nine? + + *** + +We observe that Mr. PEARCE, the Commonwealth Minister of Defence, fell +while in his garden and broke two of his ribs, but are glad to learn +that his condition is not serious. The conjunction of a rib, a garden, +and a fall has in at least one previous case resulted in permanent +injury. + + *** + +A martyr to insomnia threatens, unless the Government stops the +whistling for taxis, to let Mr. MCKENNA whistle for his. + + *** + +Our men in the trenches are beginning to welcome the German gas-attacks. +They say there is nothing like them for keeping down the rats. + + *** + +Suggested motto for the controversy between the headmasters as to the +publication of Public School Rolls of Honour--"Quot dominies tot +santentiæ." + + * * * * * + +THE NEW LEAF. + +[Illustration: Fancy portrait of Prussian poet preparing to write a Hymn +of Love--in case it should be wanted.] + + * * * * * + +Note. + +The "Wingfield House" mentioned in the article "Cases," which appeared +in _Punch_ a fortnight ago, was a purely imaginary name and had nothing +to do with the Wingfield House, near Trowbridge, where a hospital has +for some time been established. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Juvenile War Lord._. "'Ere! Someone else 'ave a go--I'm +sick o' war. It ain't in reason ter expect a bloke ter be the Kaiser +three days running!"] + + * * * * * + +THE VINDICATION OF JIMMY. + +In one corner of the school play-ground stood a small boy in deep +dejection, with his hands in his pockets, his lower lip trembling +slightly, whilst he strove to kick a hole in the ground with his right +toe. It was Jimmy--Jimmy in his hour of trial. + +He wasn't going to blub, he wasn't going to do anything. + +Suddenly he stopped kicking at the ground, as he remembered that his +mother had told him he must be careful of his boots now that the War was +on. + +He took out of his pocket a match-box, the temporary home of a large +beetle--a buzzer, Jimmy called it--which had hitherto refused to eat +either grass or bran or Indian corn. His gaze then wandered to a hole in +his stockings, which he had mended by applying ink to the exposed part +of his skin. + +From the opposite side of the playground came the tumultuous noise of +the calm deliberations of Form II. + +Jimmy knew perfectly well that they were discussing him, and that in +time one of their number would be sent to inform him of the verdict and +sentence. + +He expected that he would have to fight them all, one by one, and he +wondered how many blows he would be able to stand without returning +them, for to hit back was out of the question under the unfortunate +circumstances. + +Jimmy wished they would get it over, for he was quite willing to undergo +any form of punishment they might decide upon, if only they would let +him know quickly. He hoped they wouldn't make the Biffer fight him, not +that he was afraid of the Biffer, but because it would be so hard to +keep himself from hitting back, and that he had decided not to do. You +see the Biffer was a new boy, and, for another thing, he wore a leather +strap round his wrist. On his very first day at school the Biffer had +volunteered the information that he once gave a boy such a biff on the +nose that he had sprained his wrist, and that ever since he had worn a +wrist strap, lest it should happen again. It was Jimmy who had +nick-named him the Biffer, and from that time the Biffer had sought +Jimmy's blood. + +But Jimmy was not easy to quarrel with. + +He was the acknowledged champion of Form II., and you had to commit +three offences before Jimmy would seriously consider you. At the first +offence you got a note with the one word "Beware!" written upon it; at +the second, another note with the word "Blood" written underneath a +skull and crossbones; and at the third you received a note with the word +"Deth," and underneath was the drawing of a coffin. + +The Biffer had so far arrived at the second note. + +Jimmy did hope they wouldn't choose the Biffer, for he could hear even +now the Biffer's yell when he had made that awful mistake which had +brought about the present deplorable situation. + +Jimmy couldn't think how he had come to say what he did say; he could +have bitten off his tongue when he realised it; but it was too late--he +had said it. + +He tried to think how it had all occurred, and the scene flashed again +before his mind. There was the master with his pointer resting upon the +Dogger Bank on the map of Europe. + +"Who can tell me the name of this sea?" he had said, and Jimmy had +snapped his fingers and waved his arm about in his anxiety to catch the +master's eye. You see, it was so seldom, so very seldom, that Jimmy felt +he knew the right answer to any question, and the new experience was +intoxicating. The master too seemed to find it unusual, and he at once +turned to Jimmy and said, "Well, what is this sea called, then?" Jimmy, +full of the pride of knowledge, burst out with "The North Sea, Sir." Oh! +if he had only stopped at that; but in his desire to show how much he +knew he added without thinking the fatal words, "or German Ocean!" + +In the shout of derision which had followed, Jimmy realised what he had +said, and felt himself falling, falling, falling.... + +Jimmy became aware that the noise on the opposite side of the playground +was ceasing, and soon, from the corner of his eye, he saw Jones minimus +detach himself from the crowd. "Half a mo'," he heard Jones minimus say; +"I want to get a knotted handkerchief," and he saw him hurry into the +school. As he emerged he flourished the knotted handkerchief, but when +delivering the verdict to Jimmy that he would have to run the gauntlet +three times to the tune of the knotted handkerchiefs of Form II., he +tried to smuggle into Jimmy's hands an exercise-book which he said Jimmy +could stuff up his back; it would stick there if Jimmy buttoned his +jacket, he said, and it would take the sting off a bit. Jimmy had to +bite his lip as he refused the exercise-book, and then with head erect +and lips no longer trembling he went forth to face the ordeal. + +Form II. had arranged themselves in two ranks, facing one another, and +the knots in the handkerchiefs were firm and hard. "You have got to bunk +through and back again and then down again," said Jones minimus in a +hoarse whisper. + +The Biffer was at the head of one rank, and had got his handkerchief +slung over his shoulder in happy readiness for the first blow. + +"Are you ready? Go!" shouted Form II. in one voice. + +At the word "Go!" Jimmy pulled his hands out of his pockets--he was glad +his mother wasn't there to see him--and with head still up and eyes to +the front he walked slowly up the double lines and as slowly down them. +The Biffer got in a good one, he got in two before Jimmy was out of +reach, and he then changed the handkerchief to his left hand in +readiness for the return journey. Arrived at the end of the lines, Jimmy +turned on his heel and began to walk even more slowly than at first. + +But there was no sting in the blows this time; all the zest seemed to +have gone out of the affair; and, but for the whack the Biffer gave, +Jimmy never felt anything. The third time down was a farce, for, after +Jimmy had deliberately stopped opposite the Biffer in order to let him +have as many as his injured soul required, no one touched him. In fact +they were all shaking hands with Jimmy, who was now his smiling self +once more and ready to play with the best of them, when suddenly the +Biffer took it into his head to make a joke. + +"Perhaps he _is_ a German," said the Biffer, and waited for the general +laugh to follow his sally. + +But the laugh didn't come; instead there was a dead silence. + +Who was the Biffer--a new boy at that--to call anyone a German? +Instinctively a ring was formed and the Biffer found himself in the +middle of it. + +Jimmy took off his coat and gave it to Jones minimus, who danced for +sheer delight. + +Jimmy had only one regret: the butcher-boy was not there to see him--the +butcher-boy who had expended so much time over him, had taught him the +upper cut, the under cut, every cut that the heart of a butcher-boy +delights in. The Biffer was very busy biffing the air with a rapid +circular motion of the arms, for Jimmy's fixed scowl and set of jaw +troubled him. + +Oh, why wasn't the butcher-boy there to see that tremendous smack on the +nose the Biffer got? He would have felt amply rewarded. + +No one had ever seen Jimmy fight like this, and Jones minimus shouted in +his joy, for the Biffer was outbiffed in every direction. + +In vain did he cry "_Pax_," for Jimmy had not half relieved his +feelings, and there was no end to the dodges the butcher-boy had taught +him, each of which, he had said, meant sudden death. + +"He's had enough, Jimmy," whispered Jones minimus. "I'm satisfied," he +added as the Biffer, who was lying on the ground, refused to get up and +have any more. + +As the boys entered the class-room the next day there was the map of +Europe still hanging up in front of the class, and the very first +question that was asked by the master was, "Well, Jimmy, what is this +sea?" + +"The North Sea or British Ocean, Sir!" said Jimmy, a reply that was +greeted with a rousing cheer by the whole of Form II. + + * * * * * + +A SECOND HELPING! + + Our Bagdad force fell in a rut + At Ctesiphon; Turks made things hum. + We found that we had got to Kut, + Whilst Russians found a way to Kum! + + Our men know not the word "defeat," + They'll make it clear on Tigris plain + That, Russian-like, when they retreat, + 'Tis but to cut and come again. + + * * * * * + +A TURKISH TROPHY. + +(_A belated letter from Gallipoli._) + +My dear ----, By this week's post I trust you will receive the long +promised trophy, to wit one Turkish headpiece procured by my own +personal exertions. As the story of its capture, though somewhat out of +the ordinary, has been passed over in stony silence both by the official +_communiqués_ and "Our Special Correspondent" I shall endeavour to give +you a brief impression of the difficulties overcome as truthfully as my +sense of imagination will allow me. First of all I must draw a map:-- + +[Illustration: + +A B British trench, with traverses. + +C D Turkish trench, without. + +E F Ditch + +G British barricade. + +H Turkish barricade.] + +This should give you an idea of the English and Turkish lines at a point +where they are about eighty yards apart. Without going into details you +will see the English trench is of the superior pattern, as it has +traverses. I had to work in that technical term to show I know all about +it; I know another, "the berm," but I am not too sure about what that +is, and also I don't suppose I could draw a "berm" if I saw one. Anyway, +I know it's quite a good term connected with trenches, as I heard a +G.O.C. fairly strafe a subaltern, the other day, because he hadn't got a +"berm." Well, to refer to the map, you will observe that there is an old +ditch running between the two lines of trenches, and both sides have +advanced a certain distance along this ditch and have built barricades +about ten yards apart. Every day it is part of my job to take a +constitutional along our trenches, and after discussing the European +situation and the latest Budget with the various battalion commanders to +ask them whether there is any particularly obnoxious part of the +opposition line they would like me to salute with my battery. Usually +they say, "No, there's nothing in particular, but let's have a shoot all +the same; for example, there's a dog that barks abominably every night +opposite L 57. Couldn't you abolish him?" Incidentally we no longer give +our trenches names, such as Piccadilly, Rotten Row, but mere letters and +numbers; the reason being that one of the staff was picked up in a +fainting condition, having strolled down Park Lane and then found +himself, to his horror, in Peckham High Street. The shock--his own home +being in Baling Broadway--had proved too much for his constitution. +However, to refer back to the map once more, our barricade across the +ditch is a most convenient spot for observing artillery fire and as such +is frequently used by me. Unfortunately my view was always hasty and +badly interrupted by the attentions of a Turkish sniper behind their +barricade. This man's name was Ibrahim, and he was a Constantinople +cab-driver, married, with two children, both boys. You may be surprised +that we know so much about the enemy, but we live in such close +proximity that opposite the Lancashire Fusiliers a Turk named Mahomet, +who lives at No. 3, Golden Horn Terrace, told the reporter of _The +Worpington Headlight_ that for three years he had been suffering from +pains in the back--but that's another story. Incidentally Mahomet at +present inhabits a sniper's post surrounded by a perfect thicket of +barbed-wire, and I had a bright scheme for its removal. I got hold of a +trench catapult, an ingenious contrivance of elastic that hurls a bomb +some hundreds of yards, and placed in it a harpoon attached to a long +coil of rope. The idea was that on release of the catapult the harpoon +would be hurled in the air, the rope would neatly pay out, and then, as +soon as the harpoon had grappled Mahomet, all we would have to do would +be to haul on the rope and over would come the whole bag of tricks. +Unfortunately something went wrong, and the rope, instead of neatly +uncoiling, flailed round the trench like a young anaconda, and, catching +a harmless spectator by the leg, hurled him twenty feet in the air. +Immediately the opposition lines resounded like a rifle-booth at a +country fair. However our spectator descended unpunctured, and the only +damage done was to our vanity, when Mahomet threw over a message +attached to a stone to ask whether we would repeat the performance as he +and a pal had a bet on as to who was the best shot and wanted a human +aeroplane to judge. + +But we have got a long way from Ibrahim. Ibrahim possessed the headpiece +I am sending you. I could not think of a method for obtaining it, as his +vigilance was deadly. However a bright thought struck me, and I +assiduously saved up my rum ration for a month. Then one bitter cold +night I tossed over the accumulation in a bottle wrapped up in an old +sock. Presently there resounded in the still air a pleasant bubbling +sound indicative of liquid being poured out of a glass receptacle, then +a deep sigh, followed by a profound silence. Inch by inch I crawled over +our barricade and slowly wormed my way along the ditch. At last I +reached the Turkish barricade and cautiously slid my hand over the top +until my fingers encountered Ibrahim's toque. Then I gave a gentle tug. +Horror! he had the flap down under his chin. Unmanned for a moment I +recovered, and I slowly slid my fingers down his hirsute neck and with a +gentle titillation slid the flap clear. Ibrahim merely stirred in his +sleep and resumed his slumbers. Triumphantly hugging the trophy to my +bosom I crawled back to our barricade. + +The saddest part of the tale is yet to come. I had promised to procure +you a trophy unstained by association with human slaughter, but when the +day dawned there lay poor Ibrahim stiff and stark behind his barricade, +killed by a cold in his head. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: PANTOMIME ANNOUNCEMENTS.] + + * * * * * + + "Message Boy Wanted for Butchery." + + _Brechin Advertiser._ + +A lot of people are after that boy. + + * * * * * + + "Taxi driver who laid down Fare at Royal Hotel at 2.45 p.m. on + Christmas Day, would oblige by returning Gent's Umbrella to + Hotel." + + _Aberdeen Journal._ + +We gather that it had been a wet morning. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Cyril_ (_eating his bread-and-jam--with not too much +jam_). "This is prepostrous--this war economy."] + + * * * * * + +HUNTIN' WEATHER. + + There's a dog-fox down in Lannigan's spinney + (And Lannigan's wife has hens to mourn); + The hunters stamp in their stalls an' whinny, + Soft with leisure an' fat with corn. + + The colts are pasturin', bold an' lusty, + Sleek they are with their coats aglow, + Ripe to break, but the bits grow rusty + And the saddles sit in a dusty row. + + Old O'Dwyer was here a-Monday + With a few grey gran'fathers out for a field + (Like the ghostly hunt of a dead an'-done day), + They--an' some lassies that giggled an' squealed. + + The houn's they rioted like the devil + (They ran a hare an' they killed a goose); + I cursed Caubeen, but he looked me level: + "The boys are away--so what's the use?" + + The mists lie clingin' on bog an' heather, + Haws hang red on the silver thorn; + It's huntin' weather, ay, huntin' weather, + But trumpets an' bugles have beat the horn! + + * * * * * + +A Debt of Honour. + +Mr. Punch ventures to plead on behalf of the nine hundred men of the +Royal Naval Division who were taken prisoners by the enemy in the +retirement from Antwerp. Less fortunate than those of the same Division +who were interned in Holland (for want of official information most +people imagine that all the missing were so interned), they lack the +necessities of life. Parcels of food are sent to them, fortnightly to +each man, as well as clothing and tobacco; and it is known that they +receive all that is sent. Mr. Punch begs his readers to help the fund +from which these simple comforts are provided, and to address their +gifts to Lady GWENDOLEN GUINNESS, at 11, St. James's Square, S.W. + + * * * * * + +From a report of Mr. LLOYD GEORGE'S speech:-- + + "The works of Ireland have been extremely helpful, and I am glad + to acknowledge that I have been extremely helpful." + + _Manchester Guardian._ + +On this occasion the MINISTER OF MUNITIONS appears to have allowed +himself the privilege of "thinking aloud." + + * * * * * + + "_The Daily Mail_ will not be published to-morrow, and for that + reason we seize the occasion to-day of bidding our readers a + merry Christmas,"--_Daily Mail of December 24th._ + +And a very good reason too. + + * * * * * + +Seasonable. + + "The Canadian Government has granted to Canadian troops oversea + and in training at home a Christmas allowance of one chilling." + + _Provincial Paper._ + + * * * * * + + "He much regretted that it was not possible to-day to + communicate the results of the Derby Report in any detail, or, + indeed, at all. The task had been one of stupendous bagnitude." + + _Evening Standard._ + +Yes, but how big was the bag? + + * * * * * + +Two descriptions of the new Chief of the Imperial General Staff:-- + + "Of Scottish descent, and familiarly known to the Army as + 'Jock,' he is one of the most remarkable soldiers of the time." + + _Glasgow Evening Times._ + + "That he is known throughout the whole Army simply as 'Wullie' + is a sure token that the private soldier has taken him to his + heart." + + _Glasgow Evening Citizen._ + +Won't the Germans be puzzled? + + * * * * * + + "Eddie Harvey (Fleetwood) and Ike Whitehouse (Barrow) went + through 15 rounds contest for £5 a side and a nurse, and Harvey + won on points."--_The People._ + +The stakes, we presume, were divided. + + * * * * * + + "A kid was born with monkey face and human skull at Saidapet on + the 13th instant." + + _New India._ + +This is headed "A Curious Phenomenon." But is it? Some of our +neighbours' kids are just like that. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE NEW EDGE.] + + * * * * * + +LONDON AS USUAL. + +("_Kelly's London Directory_" for 1916, a contemporary remarks, is very +much the same as the volume for 1915.) + + Where, where are the signs of the raider + Who swam to our ken like a kite, + Who swore he had played the invader + And knocked us to bits in the night; + Who pounded these parts into jelly + From Mile End, he said, to the Mall? + For the man who should know (J. J. KELLY) + Can't spot 'em at all. + + You may turn up the street that is Vigo + Or alight on the Lane that is Mark; + You may let your incredulous eye go + O'er each Crescent and Corner and Park; + You may hunt through the humblest of alleys + Or the giddiest haunts of the town, + And Kelly's, who're "safe" as the Palace, + Have got 'em all down. + + So I sing to those equals in wonder, + Of BRADSHAW (the expert on trains), + Who have torn the Hun's fiction asunder-- + That our City's a mass of remains; + Here's our proof that we're plainly not undone, + That, although every night she lies hid, + Our stolid undaunted old London + Still stands where she did. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Porter_ (_dug-out_). "Shall I put yer 'ockey-knockers in +the van, Sir?"] + + * * * * * + +STUDIES IN FRUSTRATION. + +I. + +The scene was the comfortable spacious breakfast-room in the Bishop's +Palace. His lordship sat nearest to the fire; the bishop's wife presided +over the fragrant coffee-pot, and the curate, their dine-and-sleep +guest, sat opposite the bishop and farthest from the warmth. As a curate +this position was his due. Some day he also would be a bishop, and then +he too would know what it was to intercept the glow. + +The curate was looking dubiously into the recesses of an egg. His fine +Anglican features underwent a series of contortions. + +"I am afraid," said the bishop, "that that egg is not a good one." + +"You are right, my lord," said the curate. "It is not only bad, it's +alive. I think it's the worst egg that was ever offered me." + + +II. + +The wounded soldier lay in his deck-chair placidly smoking his hundredth +cigarette that day. He was not naturally a smoker, but cigarettes +arrived in enormous numbers and something had to be done with them. + +His visitor sat beside him, note-book in hand. "Yes?" he remarked. + +"And then," said the soldier, "came the order to charge. We fixed +bayonets and rushed at the Bosches like mad. It was glorious--like the +best kind of football match." + +The visitor took it all down, and more. + +"I remember bayonetting two men," said the soldier, "and then I remember +nothing else. And that's six months ago. Still, I'm getting well, and +then there's only one thing on earth that I really want with a +passionate desire ..." + +"I know! I know!" said the visitor, moistening his pencil. + +"Never to see any more war as long as I live," the soldier continued. + + +III. + +The aged artist sat in his luxurious studio surrounded by his +masterpieces--that is, by the pictures he had never been able to sell. + +The gem of the collection stood on an easel in the middle of the room; +while a connoisseur, hat in hand, inspected it closely, +enthusiastically, breathlessly. Then, coming over to where the artist +was resting, he sat down opposite to him and in a voice trembling with +emotion asked, "Tell me, how _do_ you mix your colours?" + +There was a deep silence, almost painful in its intensity. A drawing-pin +fell with a deafening crash. + +The venerable painter stood up with a calm and leonine expression. "I +use an ivory palette knife," he said. + + +IV. + +The shadows were lengthening in the beautiful garden. It was a warm +spring evening. The old sun-dial had just struck seven. + +The poet threw aside his book and called his Airedale terrier; the dog, +responding in time, eventually reached his master's knee. + +Seizing his opportunity, the representative of the Press observed, "You +are, I see, fond of dogs." + +"Fond of dogs?" replied the poet. "I? I detest them;" and so saying he +kicked the Airedale a distance of several feet into the air, so that, +falling immediately on the sun-dial, it was transfixed by the gnomon. + +As he watched its struggles, thus impaled, the poet laughed the hearty +resonant laugh for which he was famous. + + +V. + +The Civil Service clerk so famous for his drollery was entering the +office doors at half-past ten in the morning, or exactly sixty minutes +past the appointed time. By an unfortunate chance his principal met him, +as, alas! he had too often done, at the same tardy hour. "Late again," +said the great man, consulting his watch. "I believe that you get here +later every day." "Yes," said the clerk, "I do. But then I always stay +on and work overtime." + + +VI. + +The eminent publicist replaced his glass on the table and turned to the +lady who sat beside him. "My business," he said, "is the manufacture of +mustard. I have made a vast fortune out of it." + +"How very interesting," the lady replied absently; but the next moment, +inspired by a hidden thought, she added with quickened interest, "Please +don't think me inquisitive, but how can a fortune be made out of a thing +like mustard? People take so little of it." + +"Madam," answered the mustard magnate deliberately, "we do not make our +fortunes from the mustard that people eat"-- + +"Yes, yes?" cried the lady eagerly.--"but," he continued, "from what +they spill in mixing poultices." + + +VII. + +The famous money-lender one evening arrived as usual at the Casino, but +this time only to bid his friends good-bye. + +"Not leaving Monte?" they asked. + +"Yes, I am," he replied; "I'm going to Rome." + +"Rome?" + +"Yes, why not? I'm told it's wonderful. I shall be there a month;" and +so saying he hurried to his hotel. + +Three days later he walked into the Casino again. + +"What," cried his friends--"you here? We thought you were going to be in +Rome a month." + +"So I am," said the money-lender, "and more. I came back for my things, +most of which I left here, as it had occurred to me I might not like it. +But I adore it. Rome is beautiful, august, sublime. The simple severe +beauty of the Vatican, the vast solemnity of the Campagna! It is indeed +the eternal city. Let me keep Rome!" + +And again he hurried away. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Excited individual_ (_who has picked up umbrella left in +bar, to despatch rider just leaving_). "Hi! Mister. Is this your +umbrella?"] + + * * * * * + +A Long Turn. + + "To-morrow evening Miss Phyllis Bedells makes her final + appearance at the London Empire, where she has danced without + interruption for nine and a half years." + + _Bristol Times and Mirror._ + + * * * * * + +De Mortuis.... + + "Tired of this much worn physical life Chief George Moshesh + bursted the bands of morality as under Tuesday, November 2nd." + + _South African Paper._ + + "Tenders invited for alterations and additions to the late Mr. + Waata W. Hipango, Pitiki, are hereby cancelled."--_New Zealand + Paper._ + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Neighbour._ "And how does your son like his training?" + +_Proud Mother of Recruit._ "Oh, he's very happy. But he says they do +take him very long walks."] + + * * * * * + +THE XMAS ADVENTURES OF A DRAWING. + +_From Robert Simpson, Edinburgh, to Joan Dalgleish, London._ + +_December_ 15. + +Dear Miss Dalgleish,--I send you as promised, when we parted in Skye, +one of my little drawings. I am sorry I have had no time to get it +framed. I am off in ten days to India to resume my work. If you have no +room for this little picture on your walls it will do for a Red Cross +Bazaar. + +Hoping to meet you some other summer, + +Yours sincerely, + +R. Simpson. + +_From Joan Dalgleish to Robert Simpson._ + +_London, December_ 17. + +Dear Mr. Simpson,--So many thanks for the drawing of the bay. It will +always remind me of our delightful holiday in the North, and in the +murky days of December it will make me feel again in the fresh air of +Scotland. + +With best wishes for a pleasant +journey, + +Yours sincerely, + +Joan Dalgleish. + + +_From Joan Dalgleish to Mary Morris, Manchester._ + +_December_ 23. + +Dearest Mary,--I am sending you a little Christmas card, in the shape of +a water-colour drawing with a calendar attached, which can be removed +each year. It will remind you of the fine time we spent bathing and +boating on the Welsh Coast, which I know you people in the North adore. +I have long wanted to send you some token of our days together in that +pleasant land, and, after much searching, here at last it is. + +Your affectionate Friend, + +Joan Dalgleish. + + +_From Mary Morris to Joan Dalgleish._ + +_December_ 24. + +Dearest Joan,--What a treat to see that glorious Welsh Coast, that +heaving sea and those sunny cliffs, when I am barely existing in this +gloomy city! _Always_ will this _dear_ scene be in my sight morning and +evening, to remind me of my friend whom I miss _so much_, and of those +grand aspects of nature which we enjoyed together. + +With dear love, + +Mary. + + +_From Mary Morris to Miss Eleanor Mendip, Writers' Club, London._ + +_December_ 30. + +Dear Miss Mendip,--It seems ages since we met after your _great_ visit +to Manchester and after that _splendid_ lecture on "Some Aspects of +Nature." I cannot let the New Year pass without sending you a little +picture of our Northern coast as a humble token of my _immense_ +admiration for your charming work--the poor offering of a constant +admirer. + +Hoping to see you again in our city +and that you will again stay at our +home, + +Your affectionate admirer, + +Mary Morris. + + +_From Miss Mendip to Miss Morris._ + +_January_ 2. + +Dear Miss Morris,--Forgive me for not acknowledging before the graceful +tribute of your admiration for my work. I do indeed regard you as a +friend--few girls of my acquaintance have so real a sense of literary +perfection as my dear young friend in Manchester. Always will I cherish +your appreciative gift as a remembrance of my sweet young friend. + +Yours affectionately, + +Eleanor Mendip. + + +_From Miss Mendip to the Editor, "Women's Welfare," London._ + +_January_ 4. + +Dear Mr. Scrimbles,--You said you intended to obtain an illustration to +my paper on "Cottage Homes by Western Waters." I can save you trouble +and some expense. I have succeeded in obtaining just the picture you +want. I accordingly enclose it. You can add the fee of 10s. 6d. to my +cheque for the article. I hope it will come out in February. + +Yours truly, + +Eleanor Mendip. + + * * * * * + + "WANTED. Good School-Master, in exchange for Blue Pom dog, 3 + months, splendid coat, or sell £1. Approval both ways." + + _Welsh Paper_. + +Lest our scholastic readers should be incensed at this cynical estimate +of their value we hasten to inform them that this "School-Master" is a +pigeon and not a pedagogue. + + * * * * * + +AT THE PLAY. + +"Puss in Boots." + +If Messrs. SIMS, DIX and COLLINS did in fact, as they claim, make the +book of this year's pantomime at the Lane, Mr. GEORGE GRAVES gagged and +bound it. This popular annual festival indeed tends to become more and +more of a GRAVES solo (with of course the innumerable customary _da +capos_) and a bright sketchy EVANS _obbligato_. As a Grand Duchess and +Duke respectively the genial twain present themselves. Mr. GEORGE +GRAVES, in a flounced skirt of green tartan check, copper curls and +mahogany features, is a delectable creation; says some strangely +unlady-like things (as is expected of him); is still oddly preoccupied +with "gear-boxes" and other anatomical detail; and generally indulges in +a fine careless rapture of reminiscence and improvisation--zealously +assisted by Mr. WILL EVANS' familiar tip-tilted nose and bland refusal +to be perturbed by entirely unrehearsed effects and obviously irregular +cues. A jovial and irreverent pair of potentates, crowned by public +laughter. + +There is, of course, a sort of background to all this audacious fooling, +more definitely directed _virginibus puerisque_. The new principal boy, +Mr. ERIC MARSHALL, woos his princess with a romantic air and a mellow +tenor, in which emotion somewhat overshadows tone. Miss FLORENCE +SMITHSON, an accepted Drury Lane favourite, looks very charming, makes +love in pretty kitten wise and still indulges in those queer harmonics +of hers--virtuosity rather than artistry, shall we call it?--but is +altogether quite a nice princess of pantomime. Little RENÉE MAYER is the +Puss. Nothing could well be daintier. But I hope she will let me tell +her (in a whisper, so that the others won't hear), that she doesn't +_quite_ realise what a jolly part she has got. I would implore her to +spend an hour or two at serious play with any decent young cat and study +the grace and variety of its beautiful, imitable gestures. Then she will +assuredly pounce on her magician turned mouse, and fawn on her master +and friends, with a greater air of conviction. And she will mightily +please all the other nice children in the house. + +Of the great _ensemble_ scenes unquestionably the finest was the Fairy +Garden, with a quite beautiful back-cloth by R. MCCLEERY and a +bewildering (and, to tell truth, largely bewildered) bevy of +butterflies, decked by COMELLI, fluttering in a flowery pleasaunce. And +there was also a clever variation on the now inevitable staircase +_motif_ as a _finale_. But the Harlequinade of happy memory has +deplorably declined to something like a mere display of +advertisements--a sad business. + + * * * * * + +"The Starlight Express." + +It would be uncandid to pretend that Mr. ALGERNON BLACKWOOD gets +everything he has to say in _The Starlight Express_ safely across the +footlights--those fateful barriers that trap so many excellent +intentions. But he so evidently _has_ something to say, and the saying +is so gallantly attempted, that he must emphatically be credited with +something done--something rather well done really. The little play has +beautiful moments--and that is to say a great deal. + +This novelist turned playwright wishes to make you see that "the Earth's +forgotten it's a Star." In plainer words he wants to present you with a +cure for "wumbledness." People who look at the black side of things, who +think chiefly of themselves--these are the wumbled. The cure is +star-dust--which is sympathy. The treatment was discovered by the +children of a poor author in a cheap Swiss _pension_ and by +"Cousinenry," a successful business man of a quite unusual sort. You +have to get out into the cave where the starlight is stored, gather +it--with the help of the Organ Grinder, who loves all children and sings +his cheery way to the stars; and the Gardener, who makes good things +grow and plucks up all weeds; and the Lamplighter, who lights up heads +and hearts and stars impartially; and the Sweep, who sweeps away all +blacks and blues over the edge of the world, and the Dustman, with his +sack of Dream-dust that is Star-dust (or isn't it?), and so forth. Then +you sprinkle the precious stuff on people, and they become miracles of +content and unselfishness. (The fact that life isn't in the very least +like that is a thing you have just got to make yourself forget for three +hours or so.) + +The author was well served by his associates. Sir EDWARD ELGAR wove a +delightfully patterned music of mysterious import through the queer +tangle of the scenes and gave us an atmosphere loaded with the finest +star-dust. Lighting and setting were admirably contrived; and the +grouping of the little prologue scenes, where that kindly handsome giant +of an organ-grinder (Mr. CHARLES MOTT), with the superbly cut corduroys, +sang so tunefully to as sweet a flock of little maids as one could wish +to see, was particularly effective. + +Of the players I would especially commend the delicately sensitive +performance of Miss MERCIA CAMERON (a name and talent quite new to me) +as _Jane Anne_, the chief opponent of wumbledom. She was, I think, +responsible more than any other for getting some of the mystery of the +authentic Black-woodcraft across to the audience. The jolly spontaneity +of RONALD HAMMOND as young _Bimbo_ was a pleasant thing, and ELISE HALL, +concealing less successfully her careful training in the part, prettily +co-operated as his sister _Monkey_. The part of _Daddy_, the congested +author who was either "going to light the world or burst," was in O. B. +CLARENCE'S clever sympathetic hands. Mr. OWEN ROUGHWOOD gave you a sense +of his belief in the efficacy of star-dust. On what a difficult rail our +author was occasionally driving his express you may judge when he makes +this excellent but not particularly fragile British type exclaim, "I am +melting down in dew." The flippant hearer had always to be inhibiting +irreverent speculations occasioned by such speeches. + +I couldn't guess if the children in the audience liked it. I hope they +didn't feel they had been spoofed, as MAETERLINCK so basely spoofed them +in _The Blue Bird_, by offering them a grown-ups' play "sicklied o'er +with the pale cast of thought." But the bigger children gave the piece a +good welcome, and called and acclaimed the shrinking author. T. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Princess Rosabel_ ... Miss Florence Smithson. _Florian_ +... Mr. Eric Marshall. + +_Princess Rosabel_ and _Florian_, a young man--though only a miller's +son--of considerable polish, especially about the hair and feet.] + + * * * * * + + "36 Magnificent, Acclimatised, Well-bred Dairy Cows, &c. Many of + these were bred on the Premises, and others were purchased from + a renowned Breeder of Friesland Cattle, and they need no comment + from the Auctioneers, but will speak for themselves." + + _Natal Mercury._ + +Blowing their own horns, so to speak. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Irish Sergeant._ "Keep yer head down there! Don't ye +know that's the very place that Mike Rooney was shot through the fut?"] + + * * * * * + +THEY. + +Just lately I have been thinking often of Them. But Their image has +never been more vividly in my mind than now, when I sit here among the +aftermath of festival. I wonder, for example, are the homes in which +They live pervaded with this same _débris_ of Christmas (or, as They +themselves are so fond of calling it, Yuletide)? Does dismembered turkey +coldly furnish forth Their meals? Are there too many calendars, and a +litter of crumpled paper? And cards--do They send each other cards? +Stupendous thought! + +Most of all is my fancy busy with Them to-morrow, Tuesday, December the +twenty-eighth. I see Them rising, a little wearily, perhaps, and +heavy-eyed. Breakfast They snatch, and so out into the winter morning +towards that place where, unknown and unrecognised, They pursue +throughout the year Their changeless toil. I imagine Them gathering with +mutual greetings in the workroom--a little company about whose features +I have so often speculated. Poets are there, and artists; probably some +among the men may wear their hair a trifle longer than the military +fashion of to-day; but the greater part of the crowd are almost +certainly women. Now the talk dies down; presently They are all once +more bending in silence over Their appointed tasks. + +Yes, here at one desk is the artist to whose genius we owe the obese +robin perched upon a horse-shoe, or the churchyard by moonlight after +(apparently) a severe spangle-storm. Here again a poet, whose eye in a +fine frenzy rolling proclaims an inspiration, or at least some subtle +variant upon a familiar theme. He stoops and, even as I watch, has +traced swiftly, with vibrant pen, this couplet:-- + + "The old, old wish I send to thee, + Jocund may thy Xmas be!" + +Then, with a little sigh, he leans back, satisfied that for him the +holiday intermission had not rusted the fine edge of originality. +"Jocund" proved that. + +Behind him perhaps sits a maiden like Fate, who with abhorred shears +fashions strange shapes and borderings of foliage unknown to mere +nature. And further still, in yonder obscure and shadowy corner, is one +who by her art can penetrate the future and outstrip the foot of Time +himself. For see, upon her cards, there is already written-- + + "With every blessing good and true + May the New Year be packed, + And 1917 bring to you + What 1916 lacked." + +I wonder--how does their work seem to Them upon this morning after +Boxing-day? + + * * * * * + +What to do with our Boys. + + "Bun-Prover wanted, 20-25 Trays Capacity." + +_Portsmouth Evening News._ + + * * * * * + +Not from the Cocoa Press. + + "At a concert given in the sick bay, H.M.S. Crystal Palace, 34 + large boxes of chocolates were distributed among the patients. + Mr. Balfour sent a telegram wishing the men a speedy + recovery."--_The Times._ + + * * * * * + +The following advertisement appeared on Dec. 23:-- + + "Lady recommends her Companion-Hosekeeper."--_Morning Paper._ + +She was not going to risk her own Christmas stocking. + + * * * * * + + "It is no easy thing to replace an artist of the quality of Miss + Lily Elsie, who, in spite of the warmth of her reception at His + Majesty's Theatre, recently took so severe a chill that the + doctor would not hear of her playing again for some + time."--_Daily Mail._ + +The figurative has no chance with the actual. + + * * * * * + +AT THE SOURCE. + +"Oh," said Francesca, coming into the library, "I see you're busy with +your papers. Don't let me disturb you." + +"If," I said, "it depended on me I wouldn't. I'd take you at your word +and have you out of the room in two-twos. But you wouldn't like that, +now, would you?" + +"I'm afraid I should have to enter a protest. That's right, isn't it? +Protests _are_ things that have to be entered, aren't they?" + +"Yes," I said, "they're like candidates for examinations, or rooms, only +some rooms oughtn't to be entered, but are." + +"Jocose?" said Francesca. + +"No," I said; "I was thinking of Blue Beard. I daresay you remember +about him. He was a very uxorious man, you know, and most domestic. +Something of a traveller, and when"-- + +"We won't worry about Blue Beard," she said. "I think I know the +outlines of his family history." + +"Well then," I said, "why can't you leave me alone? You see I'm busy and +yet you insist on staying here and interrupting me. Do you call that +being a helpmeet?" + +"Well," she said, "I call it joining myself unto you, and that's what we +were told to do to one another in the marriage service." + +"You're wrong," I said. "I was told to do that unto you, but you were +told to submit yourself unto me and to reverence me." + +"It's all the same," she said. "All I'm doing is to help you to obey the +Prayer-Book." + +"Anyhow," I said, "you've sat down and you mean to stay here. Is that +what it comes to?" + +"It is," she said. "You're in tremendous guessing form to-day." + +"All I know," I said gloomily, "is that if my return for Income Tax +contains many mistakes it'll be your fault, not mine; and I shall take +care so to inform the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER. I shall put down in +the Exemptions and Abatements, 'Interrupted by wife. Abatement claimed, +£100.' The CHANCELLOR will understand. He's a married man himself." + +"So you're doing your Income Tax," she said dreamily. "I've often +wondered how that was done. Do you like it?" + +"No, Francesca," I said, "I do not like it. To be quite frank with you I +detest it." + +"But you're helping the War," she said. "That ought to buck you up like +anything. Every extra penny you pay is a smack in the eye for the +KAISER, so cheer up and make a good big return." + +"I will do," I said, "what is strictly fair between myself and the +Government. I can afford to be just to the CHANCELLOR, but, by Heaven, I +cannot afford to be generous. Generosity has no place in an Income Tax +return." + +"Go ahead with it then," she said. "I don't know what's stopping you." + +"You," I said, "are stopping me--you and that part of my income from +which the tax is not deducted at the source." + +"That sounds quite poetical," she said. "It runs into metre directly. +Listen:-- + + No man can well be rude or even coarse + Who has his tax deducted at the source. + +But I wish you'd tell me what it means." + +"Francesca," I said bitterly, "you are pleased to be a rhymer. You are, +in fact, rhyming while the exchequer is burning; and then you add insult +to injury by asking me the meaning of an elementary financial phrase." + +"Well, what _does_ it mean?" + +"It means," I said, "that if your money is invested in public companies +or things of that nature, then when your half-yearly dividend--You know +what a dividend is?" + +"Rather," she said. "It comes in on blue paper or pink, and you say, +'That's something to be thankful for;' and you write your name on one +half of it and you send that half to the bank, and you tear off the +other half and lose it in the next spring-cleaning. I know what a +dividend is all right." + +"Francesca," I said, "your knowledge is very wonderful. But if you +suppose that that is the whole dividend, you are much mistaken. It is +the dividend minus the tax. The company saves you trouble by deducting +the tax and pays it to the CHANCELLOR for you." + +"Bravo the company!" said Francesca. + +"And so say I. You see you never get that part of your money, so there's +no temptation to spend it--in fact you don't spend it." + +"That," she said, "sounds highly plausible." + +"Yes, but listen. Suppose you've got some little job at, say, two +hundred and fifty pounds a year"-- + +"Like the little job you were so pleased to get a few years ago." + +"Yes," I said, "more or less like that." + +"Not so honourable, of course," said Francesca. + +"No, of course not, but similar as to emoluments. Well, in that case you +get the whole amount, and you spend it in perfectly useless things and +forget all about it after you've put it down in your return; and then +suddenly some Surveyor of Taxes writes and demands Income Tax on those +two hundred and fifty pounds, actually demands something like forty +pounds. I tell you, it goes through you like a knife." + +"Haven't you any remedy?" + +"Of course I could chuck the job," I said, "or do it for nothing. Yes, I +think I'll chuck it. It'll be a lesson to them." + +"Yes," she said, "it would probably make the Government sit up--but, on +the whole, I don't think I should go so far if I were you. You see"-- + +"Go on," I said, for she was hesitating. "Let us strip ourselves of +everything at once and throw ourselves on the charity of our +neighbours." + +"Well," she said, "I'd go on for a bit. A job's a job even if it does +make you pay. You've had £210 on balance, and you ought to be thankful +to have been allowed to pay forty pounds for munitions." + +"And now," I said, "perhaps you'll let me get on with my work." + +R. C. L. + + * * * * * + +The Pull-Through: + +_Being a paraphrase of an answer in an O.T.C. examination._ + + Just one long pull, a straight strong pull--no other pull will do; + A man must never take two pulls to pull the pull-through through. + + * * * * * + +Village Amenities. + + "The hearty congregational stinging was a feature of church life + to be proud of."--_Parish Magazine._ + + * * * * * + + "WANTED.--Comfortable Home with private family for Gentleman who + is not strong in Brighton, Eastbourne, or St. Leonards." + + _The Times._ + +The poor fellow should try Bournemouth or Torquay. + + * * * * * + +GETTING EVEN. + +[Illustration: _Outraged victim of "Confidential Report" (being put to +bed prematurely_). "Please, God, Nurse _sewed_ for her soldier on +SUNDAY!"] + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._) + +If it should ever be your lot, which pray Heaven forbid, to be stranded +on the coast of Panama, seek out Miss WINIFRED JAMES as your hostess, +for she can teach you how to tolerate, and even in a way enjoy, an +existence one might have thought unendurable. She lives, I gather, some +two hundred miles or so from the Canal, in a town that is going to be +built some fine day on a site that has to be prepared by filling up a +marsh with clay and sand. In the meantime, until the day and the town +arrive, she rightly describes herself as _A Woman in the Wilderness_ +(CHAPMAN AND HALL). Civilisation is turned back to front out there, for +although such comforts as refrigerators and electric light are a matter +of course, there is still lacking to _Mrs. Henry de Jan_ and her rather +shadowy _William_ anything, for instance, in the nature of a road on +which to walk, or indeed any approach to their own verandah except, +floating on the clay, a narrow plank gangway that has to serve as a +hustling high-road for a mixed and dusky populace. Under the +circumstances she has done nobly well to arm herself with the twin +defences of cheerfulness and humour; and if the cheerfulness comes at +times near to being that of a martyr on the rack, while the fun is +perilously apt to swing from themes that are nice for a lady's wit to +others that are not so nice, and back to sheer triviality, what, in the +name of a population of sand-flies and negroes, can you expect? It is +much that so lifelike a picture of a region so desolate should be +presented on the whole with sweetness and charm, when no better material +is available than the myriad misdeeds of her coloured servants, the +antics of her puppies and an occasional reminiscence of home. + + * * * * * + +Certainly VIOLET HUNT and FORD MADOX HUEFFER have one achievement to +their credit. They have evolved an entirely new and original setting in +which to bring together a number of short stories. What is supposed to +happen is that sundry persons who did not feel exactly drawn towards bed +before 2 A.M. on those summer nights when Zeppelins were about, meet for +bridge and sandwiches and incidentally to listen to certain stories read +aloud by their author. In this way they are able to forget their +apprehensions of the gas-bags (dare I put it that they lose Count?) and +spend a pleasant series of evenings with history. For the stories in +_Zeppelin Nights_ (LANE) are all historical of a kind. Mostly they deal +with the byways of history, or rather with the emotions of ordinary +people who are just on the outer edge of historical happenings. For +example, the central figure of the first is a slave whose basket of figs +is upset by PHEIDIPPIDES running from Marathon; while the last concerns +an insignificant little anti-militarist who finds himself cheering for +the army on the outbreak of the Boer War. That is the kind of tales they +are, slight and momentary things, with no plot but plenty of atmosphere, +and in their style remarkably well done. Whether they would actually +keep the nerve-ridden oblivious of bombs for the thousand-and-one nights +that might have seen raids and didn't is a matter that need not concern +us. For my part, I liked as much as any the pages in which Miss HUNT or +Mr. HUEFFER folded up her or his manuscript and allowed the other +(whichever it was) to tell us about the very pleasant and human +audience. I had only one disappointment, but that was acute. I did want +just once for them to hear a distant bang, and see what happened. I +rather doubt whether the placid and literary charm of the tales would +have sufficed to keep them within doors had there been anything to see +outside. + + * * * * * + +"In his hot indignation his yellowish face had in places turned +blackish: literally, black streaks ran from the corners of his lips +upwards and downwards, and from the inner corners of his eyes." If you +read that sentence in a novel with Mr. EDGAR JEPSON'S name on the cover, +and found that the passage was a description of a man named _Shadrach +Penny_, would you not, as I did, settle down comfortably in your +armchair and wait with perfect confidence for the human zebra to murder +somebody in the most fascinatingly brutal manner? But he did not do +anything of the kind. I think that the fact that I was disappointed in, +and even seriously bored by, _The Man Who Came Back_ (HUTCHINSON) was +largely due to the mild, dull way in which the story developed. And yet +I think I could have forgiven the absence of lurid sensationalism if the +book had been a good book of its kind. It is not. It is so crude and +amateurish that it is difficult to believe that a professional writer +could have written it. Mr. JEPSON, like most other authors, has had the +idea of modernising the story of the Prodigal Son. He adheres to the +original story closely in one respect, for _Roland Penny's_ first meal +in his old home consists of roast veal, but he departs from it in making +_Roland_, so far from wasting his substance, amass a large fortune among +the husks and swine. I do not know how to classify _The Man Who Came +Back_. It is not a novel of incident, for nothing happens in it. It is +not a novel of character, for there is no attempt at any but the crudest +character-drawing. It is just a six-shilling novel, and I do not see +what else one can say of it. Mr. JEPSON must do one of two things. He +must either brace up and make his style less irritatingly slipshod, or +he must give us a few more murders. If we cannot have literary elegance +he must give us blood. + + * * * * * + +Lieutenant L. B. RUNDALL, of the 1st Gurkha Rifles, author of _The Ilex +of Stra-Ping_ (MACMILLAN), was not only a soldier and a sportsman, but a +writer with a most keen sense of the beauty of nature and the beauty of +words. Children should love these Himalayan sketches, for Mr. RUNDALL, +from material which in some cases was admittedly slight, could weave a +tale full of magic and charm. The story of the old brown bear in "The +Scape-goat" may not greatly stir the heart with the thrill of adventure, +but the hero has attractions that no child and no man that has not +forgotten his childhood could resist. An inconspicuous notice in the +book tells us that the author fell in action towards the close of 1914. +I salute his memory. Rich as we are to-day in authors who can write +enchantingly of birds and animals, I feel a sense of personal sorrow in +the loss of one whose work gave so fair a promise of high achievement. + + * * * * * + +When you take up _Russian Folk-Tales_ (KEGAN, PAUL), don't allow +yourself to be subdued by the deplorably learned preface of the +translator, Mr. LEONARD MAGNUS, LL.B., because it is not the proper +attitude really. Forget how little business a Bachelor of Law has to lay +his sceptical hands on such inappropriate material, and plunge into a +jolly, bewildering tangle of tales of magic and adventure, +bloodthirstiness and treachery, simple charity, _vodka_ and genial +superstition. You will be led from one to the other, puzzled but, I dare +conjecture, highly entertained. I think you may take it, too, that a +certain healthy sort of children will like to have these queer stories +read aloud. The villainies of the _Bába Yagá_, an old witch of terrific +resourcefulness, and the oddly inconsequent animal stories should make +particular appeal. But you will be hard put to it to answer the +questions which will be thrust at you; and (by the way) perhaps you will +discreetly have to leave out a phrase or two for prudence' sake. On no +account let the youngsters read the preface. I am not really quite sure +whether you ought to read it yourself. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Recruit._ "Aw--I say Sergeant--I'm afraid this horse is +a bit too tall for me." + +_Sergeant_ (_old school_). "Oh! And does the _colour_ suit you, Sir?"] + + * * * * * + +The Charge of the Six Hundred. + + Some three-score years or so ago six hundred gallant men + Made a charge that cost old England dear, they lost four hundred then; + To-day six hundred make a charge that costs the country dear, + But now they take four hundred each--four hundred pounds a year. + + * * * * * + + "Somebody to steal of my cabbage, cauliflower, old potato, new + potato, and a small rake and hooks, fork. Everything. Somebody + snatch on Thursday and Saturday night. Perhaps anybody to see + the steal man to take something from my garden to tell me about + that is I will reward five pounds truth, £3 for tell-tale.--Wong + Long." + + _Poverty Bay Herald._ + +Wong Long apparently differs from the accepted authorities as to the +value of hearsay evidence. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. +150, JANUARY 5, 1916*** + + +******* This file should be named 22602-8.txt or 22602-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/6/0/22602 + + + +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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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 150, January 5, 1916</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: Owen Seaman</p> +<p>Release Date: September 14, 2007 [eBook #22602]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 150, JANUARY 5, 1916***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, David King,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 150.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>January 5, 1916.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"><a href="images/vol-001.png"><img width="100%" src="images/vol-001.png" alt=""/></a></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/vol-002.png"><img width="100%" src="images/vol-002.png" alt=""/></a> + <p>The Whitefriars Press."</p> +</div> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page1" id="page1"></a>[pg 1]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/001.png"><img width="100%" src="images/001.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<h2>RESOLUTIONS.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I will not breakfast in my bed</p> +<p>With downy cushions at my head;</p> +<p>That would be very wrong—and so</p> +<p>Away the eggs and bacon go!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I will not read in bed at night</p> +<p>And burn the dear electric light;</p> +<p>Nor buy another costly hat;</p> +<p>Oh no! I'm much too good for that.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But I will rise before the dawn</p> +<p>And weed and cut and roll the lawn;</p> +<p>My border I will plant with veg,</p> +<p>Abundantly from hedge to hedge.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And all the day I'll practise thrift</p> +<p>And no more happily will drift</p> +<p>In deeper debt, as once, alas!</p> +<p>—But what an awful year I'll pass.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>The Art of Sinking.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"Altogether we sank one gunboat, five +steamers (one of 3,000 tons), and 17 large +sailing ships, three trains, and one railway +embankment."—<i>Manchester Guardian.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Very Light Marching Order.</h3> + +<p>From a notice issued to recruits +for the New Zealand Expeditionary +Force:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"You should report wearing a pair of serviceable +boots, and bring with you your toilet +outfit—no additional clothing is required." +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"In a conversation with members of the +Press Mr. Ford said now was the time for +peace on the basis of the <i>status quo anti bellum</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Scotch Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>He always spells it that way.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" id="page2"></a>[pg 2]</span> + +<h2>AN ILL-USED AUTHOR.</h2> + +<p>"I gather, Sir," remarked my fellow-traveller, after I +had put away the writing-block on which I had been +jotting down the outline of an article, "that you are a +literary man, like myself?"</p> + +<p>We were the only occupants of a compartment in a +L. & N. W. R. carriage. I had been too absorbed till then +to notice his appearance, but I now observed that he had +rather unkempt hair, luminous eyes, and a soft hat. "Oh, +well," I admitted, "I write."</p> + +<p>"But I take it that, whatever you write, it is not <i>poetry</i>," +he said. What led him to this inference I cannot say, but +I had to confess that it was correct.</p> + +<p>"Still, even though you are not a Poet yourself, I hope," +he said, "you can feel some sympathy for one who has +been so infamously treated as I have."</p> + +<p>I replied that I hoped so too.</p> + +<p>"Then, Sir," said he, "I will tell you my unhappy story. +At the beginning of this War I was approached by certain +Railway magnates who shall be nameless. It appeared +that they had realised, very rightly, that their official +notices were couched in too cold and formal a style to +reach the heart of their public. So they commissioned me +to supply what I may term the human touch. As a poet, +I naturally felt that this could only be effectively done +through the medium of verse. Well, I rose to the occasion, +Sir; I produced some lines which, printed as they were +written, must infallibly have placed me at the head of all +of my contemporaries. But they were <i>not</i> printed as they +were written. In proof of which I will trouble you to read +very carefully the opening paragraph of those 'Defence of +the Realm Regulations' immediately above your head ... +Only the opening paragraph at present, please!"</p> + +<p>I was somewhat surprised, but, thinking it best to +humour him, I read the first sentence, which was: "<i>In +view of possible attack by hostile aircraft, it is necessary +that the blinds of all trains should be kept down after +sunset</i>," and gave him my opinion of it.</p> + +<p>"Whether," he said, with some acerbity, "it is or is not +as lucidly expressed as you are pleased to consider, only the +beginning of it is mine. This is what I actually wrote:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"'In view of possible attack</p> +<p>By hostile aircraft overhead,</p> +<p>'Tis necessary now, alack!</p> +<p>Soon as old Sol has sought his bed,</p> +<p>That those who next the window sit,</p> +<p>Though they'd prefer to watch the gloaming,</p> +<p>Should draw the blind, nor leave a slit,</p> +<p>Keeping it down until they're homing,</p> +<p>Else on the metals will be thrown</p> +<p>A glowing trail as from a comet,</p> +<p>And Huns to whom a train is shown</p> +<p>Will most indubitably bomb it!'</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>"That," he observed complacently, "is not only verse of +the highest order, but clearly conveys the reason for such +precautions, which the official mind chose to cut out. And +now let me ask you to read the next paragraph." I did so. +"<i>At night-time when the blinds are drawn</i>" it ran, "<i>passengers +are requested before alighting to make sure when the +train stops that it is at the platform</i>."</p> + +<p>"Which," he cried fiercely, "is their mangled and mutilated +version of this:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"'At night-time when the blinds are drawn</p> +<p>(As screens against those devils' spawn,</p> +<p>Which love the gloom, but dread the dawn),</p> +<p>A train may be at standstill,</p> +<p>Then we request 'twill not occur</p> +<p>That some impatient passenger,</p> +<p>Whose nerves are in a chronic stir,</p> +<p>And neither feet nor hands still,</p> +<p>Without preliminary peep</p> +<p>Will forth incontinently leap,</p> +<p>Alighting in a huddled heap</p> +<p>To lie, a limp or flat form,</p> +<p>In some inhospitable ditch,</p> +<p>If not on grittier ballast, which</p> +<p>(The darkness far surpassing pitch)</p> +<p>He took to be the platform!'</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>"As to the next paragraph," he continued, "I don't +complain so much, though, personally, I consider '<i>Extract +from Order made by the Secretary of State for the Home +Department</i>' a very poor paraphrase of the resounding +couplet in which I introduced him:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Now speaks in genial tones, from heart to heart meant,</p> +<p>The Secretary for the Home Department!'</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>"I could have overlooked that, Sir, if they had retained +the lines I had written for him. But they've only let him +speak the first four words—'<i>Passengers in Railway Carriages</i>'—and +then drivel on thus: '<i>which are provided with +blinds must keep the blinds covered so as to cover the +windows'</i>—a clumsy tautology, Sir, for which I am sure no +Home Secretary would care to be held responsible, and +from which I had been at some pains to save him, as you +may judge when I read you the original text:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Passengers in railway carriages</p> +<p>Possess a sense which none disparages;</p> +<p>So those who are not perverse or froward</p> +<p>May be trusted to see that the blinds are lowered,</p> +<p>To cover the windows so totally</p> +<p>That no one inside can be seen, or see.</p> +<p>Mem.—This need not be done, as lately decided,</p> +<p>If blinds for the windows have not been provided.'</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>"But," he went on, "the deadliest injury those infernal +officials reserved for the last. If you read the concluding +sentence, Sir, you will observe that it begins: '<i>The blinds +may be lifted in case of necessity</i>!' (That, I need hardly +say, is <i>entirely</i> my own. There is a sort of inspired swing +in it, the true lyrical lilt with which even red-tape has not +dared to tamper! But mark how they go on): '<i>when the +train is at a standstill at a station, but, if lifted, they must +be lowered again before the train starts</i>.' And this insufferable +bathos, forsooth, was substituted for lines like these:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"'The blinds may be lifted in case of necessity;</p> +<p>Thus, if the train at a station should halt,</p> +<p>And the traveller hears not its name, nor can guess it, he</p> +<p>Cannot be held to commit any fault,</p> +<p>Still farther be fined,</p> +<p>Should he pull up the blind</p> +<p>Out of mere curiosity: had he not looked</p> +<p>He might miss the station for which he had booked!'</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>"Well," he concluded, "that is my case. But I can +never put it before the public myself. My pride would not +permit me. Though, if someone—yourself, for instance—would +present my claims to redress—"</p> + +<p>I couldn't help thinking that he had been hardly treated, +and so I undertook to do what I could for him. He gave +me his verses, also his name, which latter I have unfortunately +forgotten. However, I hope I have redeemed my +promise here in other respects.</p> + +<p>There are times when I wonder uneasily whether he may +not have been pulling my leg. But, after all, he could have +had no possible object in doing that. Besides, if, the next +time you travel by the L. & N.-W., you will study the +printed instructions in your compartment, I fancy you will +agree with me that they corroborate his statements to a +rather remarkable extent.</p> + +<p>F. A.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>A Christmas Trifle.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"Some stale sponge cake is cut in slices less than an inch thick, +and these are spread generously with jam and arranged on a crystal +dish, blanched and chopped with Clara and Jo and all their young +cousins."—<i>The Bulletin.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" id="page3"></a>[pg 3]</span> + +<h3>THE RUSH TO SALONIKA.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/003.png"><img width="100%" src="images/003.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><span class="sc">Wilhelm and Franz Joseph.</span> "FERDIE, THE POST OF HONOUR IS YOURS."</p> + <p><span class="sc">Ferdie.</span> "YOU CAN HAVE IT."</p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" id="page5"></a>[pg 5]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/005.png"><img width="100%" src="images/005.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><i>Fair Hostess</i> (<i>entertaining wounded soldier</i>). <span class="sc">"And so one Jack Johnson buried you, and the next dug you up again and +landed you on the top of a barn! Now, what were your feelings?"</span></p> + <p><i>Tommy.</i> <span class="sc">"If you'll believe me, Ma'am, I was never more surprised in all my life."</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS.</h2> + +<p>It has come as an immense relief to +all true lovers of peace to learn that +such German soldiers as have been +taking part in the war on the Italian +frontier have previously resigned their +positions in the <span class="sc">Kaiser's</span> army and +been re-enrolled under the Austrian +flag, so that no untoward incident +may disturb the profound peace which +exists between Germany and Italy. +All the same there are elements of +possible danger in the situation which +should be carefully watched. We look +forward to a time when our gallant +ally may be confidently expected to +advance on to German soil, and we +think it would be well for the authorities +at Rome (unless the invading host +is provided with Montenegrin uniforms) +to serve out beforehand a large number +of tourist coupons, available over a +wide choice of different routes. This +might avert the terrible consequences +that are likely to follow a breach of +relations.</p> + +<p>Of course it must be remembered +that Italy has now signed on not to +enter into a separate peace, and no +doubt the only true economy is to +make the present one go as far as +possible, as it cannot be replaced. +Still, since the sinking of the <i>Ancona</i> +by a German crew (partially whitewashed +so as to look like Austrians), +Italy's neutrality has become of an +extremely virulent order.</p> + +<p>We need hardly say that President +<span class="sc">Wilson</span> even on his honeymoon is +closely watching the situation and +thinking over it very deeply, very +slowly and very calmly, hoping to discover +hints for his own future guidance. +It is said that he feels himself being +drawn more and more into the vortex, +and his attitude of passive belligerency +may be followed by one of aggressive +non-interference. It is common knowledge +in Washington that if he can get +no satisfaction on the <i>Ancona</i> question +he will either despatch a new note +(which will be <i>almost</i> an ultimatum) +or simply pass on and declare war on +Albania.</p> + +<p>Portugal (as the ancient ally of +Great Britain), who has already been +involved in a scrap with German troops +in Angola, is naturally deeply exercised +as to what are her present relations +with Turkey. The matter is an urgent +one and might become crucial in the +event of a Turkish Zeppelin drifting in +a fog over Portuguese territory.</p> + +<p>The King of <span class="sc">Greece</span> is said to have +found a happy solution of his difficulty +about a Bulgarian invasion of Greece. +The incoming forces are to be provided +with return tickets to Salonika and +back, available only for forty-five days, +and containing a stipulation that the +traveller may not break his journey at +any other point.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"FOR THIS RELIEF—"</h2> + +<p>(<i>Suggested by the poster commending a +recent Revue as "the last word in +syncopation."</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The days of our mourning are ended,</p> +<p class="i2">The lean years of famine are fled,</p> +<p>When, sick for a spoonful of aught that was tuneful,</p> +<p class="i2">We've sorrowed as over the dead</p> +<p>For Music, forlorn and unfriended,</p> +<p class="i2">Gone down into glimmerless gloom,</p> +<p>While rude "rag-time" revels were dancing a devils'</p> +<p class="i4">Tattoo on her tomb.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A new dawn of promise doth redden</p> +<p class="i2">The rim of our Stygian night;</p> +<p>Our bondage is breaking—O blessed awaking</p> +<p class="i2">To melody merry and bright!</p> +<p>My heart, long o'erloaded and leaden,</p> +<p class="i2">Now bounds to the blue like a bird;</p> +<p>The shadow has shifted; with paean uplifted</p> +<p class="i4">I hail that "last word"!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" id="page6"></a>[pg 6]</span> + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p>Leap Year Anticipations.—A fine +spring is expected in France, Flanders +and Poland. If the weather is propitious +a total eclipse will be visible +in Berlin and Vienna.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Asked by some American journalists +where the Peace Conference would be +held, Dr. <span class="sc">Sven Hedin</span> is reported to +have said, "Peace will be dictated from +Berlin." And so say all of us!</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Relations between Potsdam and Sofia +are said to be badly strained. +Three days after the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> had +issued his celebrated manifesto, +"To my noble and heroic Serbian +people," <span class="sc">Ferdinand</span> in the Sobranje +was publicly denouncing +the Serbians as obstinate, treacherous, +and tyrannical. The <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> +considers this conduct extremely +tactless, and threatens, if it continues, +to spell Bulgarian with a +"V."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>All hitherto-published explanations +of the threatened German +attack on the Suez Canal are +hereby cancelled. The fact is that +the <span class="sc">Kaiser's</span> fleet is increasing so +rapidly that it has outgrown its +present accommodation.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>During the visit of Mr. <span class="sc">Ford's</span> +Ark to Bergen the following +notice was posted up at the +Grand Hotel:—"All members of +the Henry Ford Peace Expedition +are requested to call for their +laundry at the Grand Hotel, +Room 408, Tuesday evening after +supper. This notice supersedes +the original plan to have the +laundry delivered to each individual +hotel." It may also explain +why the members of the expedition +have since washed their dirty +linen in public.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Some of the pilgrims on the <i>Oscar II.</i> +were much annoyed at the prohibition +of card-playing on board. "What is +the use," they asked, "of crying <i>Pax</i> +when there are none?"</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Some strait-laced Conservatives, who +were a little shocked to see the announcement +of "Mr. Balfour on the +Film," were comforted on its being +pointed out to them that Mr. <span class="sc">Chaplin</span> +set him the example.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A ten-year-old girl's essay on "Patriotism":—"Patriotism +is composed of +patriots, and they are people who live +in Ireland and want Mr. Redmond or +other people to be King of Ireland. +They are very brave, some of them, +and are so called after St. Patrick, +who is Ireland's private saint. The +patriots who are brave make splendid +soldiers. The patriots who are not +brave go to America."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Lord <span class="sc">Kitchener</span>, who has a choice +collection of old china, has lately added +to it several fine specimens of Crown +Derby.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>So many Parliamentarians have +recently requested the Treasury to stop +sending them their £400 a year that +a slight change in the designation of +the others is suggested—P.M. (Paid +Member) instead of M.P.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A soldier's letter: "<span class="sc">Dear Sis</span>,—You +ask what I want—well, for Heaven's +sake send us a barber! You never saw +such heads in your life as we've got.</p> + +<p>Lovingly, <span class="sc">Bob.</span></p> + +<p>P.S.—Failing a barber send us a box +of hair-pins."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Is it true that while the Cliff Hotel +at Gorleston was blazing furiously +during the gale last week a zealous +official went up to the unfortunate +proprietor and threatened him with +pains and penalties for allowing a +naked light to be seen far out at sea?</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>We understand that since the +entrance-fee was suspended and the +subscription reduced, the Automobile +Club has increased its membership so +largely that the Committee are thinking +of re-naming it the Omnibus.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A conversation in the trenches:—</p> + +<p><i>Private Dougal McTavish</i> (<i>late of the +Alberta Police</i>): "Mon, in ma section +'tis aften fafty degrees below zero. But, +bless ye, 'tis dry cold, ye'll never feel it."</p> + +<p><i>L.C. Owen Tyrrell</i> (<i>late of Carpentaria +Telegraphs</i>): "Down-under it is +usually 125 in the shade. But thin it +is dry heat, you are niver sinsible +of ut."</p> + +<p><i>Corpl. James Brown</i> (<i>late Tram +Conductor, Vancouver</i>): "In B.C. +we stake upon 312 to 314 rainy +days in the year. But it is dry +rain, it don't wet you."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>In an article on the employment +of women as dentists, the writer +says: "A new charm has been +added to the delights of dentistry." +Optimist!</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>He also says that one lady +"extracted 38 teeth from nine +patients, and showed little signs +of fatigue from it, either." But +what about the nine?</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>We observe that Mr. <span class="sc">Pearce</span>, +the Commonwealth Minister of +Defence, fell while in his garden +and broke two of his ribs, but are +glad to learn that his condition +is not serious. The conjunction +of a rib, a garden, and a fall has +in at least one previous case resulted +in permanent injury.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A martyr to insomnia threatens, +unless the Government stops the +whistling for taxis, to let Mr. +<span class="sc">McKenna</span> whistle for his.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Our men in the trenches are beginning +to welcome the German gas-attacks. +They say there is nothing +like them for keeping down the rats.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Suggested motto for the controversy +between the headmasters as to the +publication of Public School Rolls of +Honour—"Quot dominies tot santentiæ."</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE NEW LEAF.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:40%;"><a href="images/006.png"><img width="100%" src="images/006.png" alt=""/></a> + <p><span class="sc">Fancy portrait of Prussian poet preparing to +write a Hymn of Love—in case it should be +wanted</span>.</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Note.</h3> + +<p>The "Wingfield House" mentioned +in the article "Cases," which appeared +in <i>Punch</i> a fortnight ago, was a purely +imaginary name and had nothing to do +with the Wingfield House, near Trowbridge, +where a hospital has for some +time been established.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" id="page7"></a>[pg 7]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/007.png"><img width="100%" src="images/007.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Juvenile War Lord.</i>. "<span class="sc">'Ere! Someone else 'ave a +go—I'm sick o' war. It ain't in reason ter expect a bloke ter be the +Kaiser three days running</span>!"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE VINDICATION OF JIMMY.</h2> + +<p>In one corner of the school play-ground +stood a small boy in deep +dejection, with his hands in his pockets, +his lower lip trembling slightly, whilst +he strove to kick a hole in the ground +with his right toe. It was Jimmy—Jimmy +in his hour of trial.</p> + +<p>He wasn't going to blub, he wasn't +going to do anything.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he stopped kicking at the +ground, as he remembered that his +mother had told him he must be +careful of his boots now that the War +was on.</p> + +<p>He took out of his pocket a match-box, +the temporary home of a large +beetle—a buzzer, Jimmy called it—which +had hitherto refused to eat +either grass or bran or Indian corn. +His gaze then wandered to a hole in +his stockings, which he had mended +by applying ink to the exposed part +of his skin.</p> + +<p>From the opposite side of the playground +came the tumultuous noise of +the calm deliberations of Form II.</p> + +<p>Jimmy knew perfectly well that +they were discussing him, and that in +time one of their number would be +sent to inform him of the verdict and +sentence.</p> + +<p>He expected that he would have to +fight them all, one by one, and he +wondered how many blows he would +be able to stand without returning +them, for to hit back was out of the +question under the unfortunate circumstances.</p> + +<p>Jimmy wished they would get it +over, for he was quite willing to undergo +any form of punishment they might +decide upon, if only they would let him +know quickly. He hoped they wouldn't +make the Biffer fight him, not that +he was afraid of the Biffer, but because +it would be so hard to keep himself +from hitting back, and that he had +decided not to do. You see the Biffer +was a new boy, and, for another thing, +he wore a leather strap round his +wrist. On his very first day at school +the Biffer had volunteered the information +that he once gave a boy such a +biff on the nose that he had sprained +his wrist, and that ever since he had +worn a wrist strap, lest it should happen +again. It was Jimmy who had nick-named +him the Biffer, and from that +time the Biffer had sought Jimmy's +blood.</p> + +<p>But Jimmy was not easy to quarrel +with.</p> + +<p>He was the acknowledged champion +of Form II., and you had to commit +three offences before Jimmy would +seriously consider you. At the first +offence you got a note with the one +word "Beware!" written upon it; at +the second, another note with the word +"Blood" written underneath a skull +and crossbones; and at the third you +received a note with the word "Deth," +and underneath was the drawing of a +coffin.</p> + +<p>The Biffer had so far arrived at the +second note.</p> + +<p>Jimmy did hope they wouldn't choose +the Biffer, for he could hear even now +the Biffer's yell when he had made that +awful mistake which had brought +about the present deplorable situation.</p> + +<p>Jimmy couldn't think how he had +come to say what he did say; he could +have bitten off his tongue when he +realised it; but it was too late—he had +said it.</p> + +<p>He tried to think how it had all +occurred, and the scene flashed again +before his mind. There was the master +with his pointer resting upon the +Dogger Bank on the map of Europe.</p> + +<p>"Who can tell me the name of this +sea?" he had said, and Jimmy had +snapped his fingers and waved his +arm about in his anxiety to catch the +master's eye. You see, it was so +seldom, so very seldom, that Jimmy +felt he knew the right answer to any +question, and the new experience was +intoxicating. The master too seemed +to find it unusual, and he at once +turned to Jimmy and said, "Well, what +is this sea called, then?" Jimmy, full +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" id="page8"></a>[pg 8]</span> +of the pride of knowledge, burst out +with "The North Sea, Sir." Oh! if he +had only stopped at that; but in his +desire to show how much he knew he +added without thinking the fatal words, +"or German Ocean!"</p> + +<p>In the shout of derision which had +followed, Jimmy realised what he had +said, and felt himself falling, falling, +falling....</p> + +<p>Jimmy became aware that the noise +on the opposite side of the playground +was ceasing, and soon, from the corner +of his eye, he saw Jones minimus detach +himself from the crowd. "Half a +mo'," he heard Jones minimus say; +"I want to get a knotted handkerchief," +and he saw him hurry into the school. +As he emerged he flourished the knotted +handkerchief, but when delivering the +verdict to Jimmy that he would have +to run the gauntlet three times to the +tune of the knotted handkerchiefs of +Form II., he tried to smuggle into +Jimmy's hands an exercise-book which +he said Jimmy could stuff up his back; +it would stick there if Jimmy buttoned +his jacket, he said, and it would take +the sting off a bit. Jimmy had to bite +his lip as he refused the exercise-book, +and then with head erect and lips no +longer trembling he went forth to face +the ordeal.</p> + +<p>Form II. had arranged themselves +in two ranks, facing one another, and +the knots in the handkerchiefs were +firm and hard. "You have got to +bunk through and back again and +then down again," said Jones minimus +in a hoarse whisper.</p> + +<p>The Biffer was at the head of one +rank, and had got his handkerchief +slung over his shoulder in happy readiness +for the first blow.</p> + +<p>"Are you ready? Go!" shouted +Form II. in one voice.</p> + +<p>At the word "Go!" Jimmy pulled +his hands out of his pockets—he was +glad his mother wasn't there to see +him—and with head still up and eyes +to the front he walked slowly up the +double lines and as slowly down them. +The Biffer got in a good one, he got in +two before Jimmy was out of reach, +and he then changed the handkerchief +to his left hand in readiness for the +return journey. Arrived at the end of +the lines, Jimmy turned on his heel +and began to walk even more slowly +than at first.</p> + +<p>But there was no sting in the blows +this time; all the zest seemed to have +gone out of the affair; and, but for the +whack the Biffer gave, Jimmy never +felt anything. The third time down +was a farce, for, after Jimmy had deliberately +stopped opposite the Biffer in +order to let him have as many as his +injured soul required, no one touched +him. In fact they were all shaking +hands with Jimmy, who was now his +smiling self once more and ready to +play with the best of them, when suddenly +the Biffer took it into his head +to make a joke.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he <i>is</i> a German," said the +Biffer, and waited for the general +laugh to follow his sally.</p> + +<p>But the laugh didn't come; instead +there was a dead silence.</p> + +<p>Who was the Biffer—a new boy at +that—to call anyone a German? Instinctively +a ring was formed and the +Biffer found himself in the middle of it.</p> + +<p>Jimmy took off his coat and gave it +to Jones minimus, who danced for sheer +delight.</p> + +<p>Jimmy had only one regret: the +butcher-boy was not there to see him—the +butcher-boy who had expended so +much time over him, had taught him +the upper cut, the under cut, every cut +that the heart of a butcher-boy delights +in. The Biffer was very busy biffing the +air with a rapid circular motion of the +arms, for Jimmy's fixed scowl and set +of jaw troubled him.</p> + +<p>Oh, why wasn't the butcher-boy there +to see that tremendous smack on the +nose the Biffer got? He would have +felt amply rewarded.</p> + +<p>No one had ever seen Jimmy fight +like this, and Jones minimus shouted +in his joy, for the Biffer was outbiffed +in every direction.</p> + +<p>In vain did he cry "<i>Pax</i>," for Jimmy +had not half relieved his feelings, and +there was no end to the dodges the +butcher-boy had taught him, each of +which, he had said, meant sudden death.</p> + +<p>"He's had enough, Jimmy," whispered +Jones minimus. "I'm satisfied," +he added as the Biffer, who was lying +on the ground, refused to get up and +have any more.</p> + +<p>As the boys entered the class-room +the next day there was the map of +Europe still hanging up in front of the +class, and the very first question that +was asked by the master was, "Well, +Jimmy, what is this sea?"</p> + +<p>"The North Sea or British Ocean, +Sir!" said Jimmy, a reply that was +greeted with a rousing cheer by the +whole of Form II.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>A SECOND HELPING!</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Our Bagdad force fell in a rut</p> +<p class="i2">At Ctesiphon; Turks made things hum.</p> +<p>We found that we had got to Kut,</p> +<p>Whilst Russians found a way to Kum!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Our men know not the word "defeat,"</p> +<p class="i2">They'll make it clear on Tigris plain</p> +<p>That, Russian-like, when they retreat,</p> +<p class="i2">'Tis but to cut and come again.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A TURKISH TROPHY.</h2> + +<p>(<i>A belated letter from Gallipoli.</i>)</p> + +<p>My dear ——, By this week's post +I trust you will receive the long promised +trophy, to wit one Turkish +headpiece procured by my own personal +exertions. As the story of its +capture, though somewhat out of the +ordinary, has been passed over in stony +silence both by the official <i>communiqués</i> +and "Our Special Correspondent" I shall +endeavour to give you a brief impression +of the difficulties overcome as truthfully +as my sense of imagination will +allow me. First of all I must draw a +map:—</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/008.png"><img width="100%" src="images/008.png" alt="" /></a> + <p>A B British trench, with traverses.</p> + <p>C D Turkish trench, without.</p> + <p>E F Ditch</p> + <p>G British barricade.</p> + <p>H Turkish barricade.</p></div> + +<p>This should give you an idea of the +English and Turkish lines at a point +where they are about eighty yards +apart. Without going into details you +will see the English trench is of the +superior pattern, as it has traverses. +I had to work in that technical term to +show I know all about it; I know +another, "the berm," but I am not too +sure about what that is, and also I +don't suppose I could draw a "berm" if +I saw one. Anyway, I know it's quite +a good term connected with trenches, +as I heard a G.O.C. fairly strafe a +subaltern, the other day, because he +hadn't got a "berm." Well, to refer +to the map, you will observe that there +is an old ditch running between the +two lines of trenches, and both sides +have advanced a certain distance along +this ditch and have built barricades +about ten yards apart. Every day it +is part of my job to take a constitutional +along our trenches, and after +discussing the European situation and +the latest Budget with the various +battalion commanders to ask them +whether there is any particularly obnoxious +part of the opposition line they +would like me to salute with my battery. +Usually they say, "No, there's +nothing in particular, but let's have a +shoot all the same; for example, there's +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>[pg 9]</span> +a dog that barks abominably every +night opposite L 57. Couldn't you +abolish him?" Incidentally we no +longer give our trenches names, such +as Piccadilly, Rotten Row, but mere +letters and numbers; the reason being +that one of the staff was picked up in +a fainting condition, having strolled +down Park Lane and then found himself, +to his horror, in Peckham High +Street. The shock—his own home +being in Baling Broadway—had proved +too much for his constitution. However, +to refer back to the map once +more, our barricade across the ditch +is a most convenient spot for observing +artillery fire and as such is frequently +used by me. Unfortunately my view +was always hasty and badly interrupted +by the attentions of a Turkish sniper +behind their barricade. This man's +name was Ibrahim, and he was a +Constantinople cab-driver, married, +with two children, both boys. You +may be surprised that we know so +much about the enemy, but we live in +such close proximity that opposite the +Lancashire Fusiliers a Turk named +Mahomet, who lives at No. 3, Golden +Horn Terrace, told the reporter of <i>The +Worpington Headlight</i> that for three +years he had been suffering from pains +in the back—but that's another story. +Incidentally Mahomet at present inhabits +a sniper's post surrounded by a +perfect thicket of barbed-wire, and I +had a bright scheme for its removal. I +got hold of a trench catapult, an ingenious +contrivance of elastic that +hurls a bomb some hundreds of yards, +and placed in it a harpoon attached to +a long coil of rope. The idea was that +on release of the catapult the harpoon +would be hurled in the air, the rope +would neatly pay out, and then, as soon +as the harpoon had grappled Mahomet, +all we would have to do would be to +haul on the rope and over would come +the whole bag of tricks. Unfortunately +something went wrong, and the rope, +instead of neatly uncoiling, flailed round +the trench like a young anaconda, and, +catching a harmless spectator by the +leg, hurled him twenty feet in the air. +Immediately the opposition lines resounded +like a rifle-booth at a country +fair. However our spectator descended +unpunctured, and the only damage done +was to our vanity, when Mahomet +threw over a message attached to a +stone to ask whether we would repeat +the performance as he and a pal had +a bet on as to who was the best +shot and wanted a human aeroplane +to judge.</p> + +<p>But we have got a long way from +Ibrahim. Ibrahim possessed the headpiece +I am sending you. I could not +think of a method for obtaining it, as +his vigilance was deadly. However a +bright thought struck me, and I assiduously +saved up my rum ration for a +month. Then one bitter cold night I +tossed over the accumulation in a bottle +wrapped up in an old sock. Presently +there resounded in the still air a +pleasant bubbling sound indicative of +liquid being poured out of a glass +receptacle, then a deep sigh, followed +by a profound silence. Inch by inch I +crawled over our barricade and slowly +wormed my way along the ditch. At +last I reached the Turkish barricade +and cautiously slid my hand over the +top until my fingers encountered +Ibrahim's toque. Then I gave a gentle +tug. Horror! he had the flap down +under his chin. Unmanned for a +moment I recovered, and I slowly slid +my fingers down his hirsute neck and +with a gentle titillation slid the flap +clear. Ibrahim merely stirred in his +sleep and resumed his slumbers. +Triumphantly hugging the trophy to +my bosom I crawled back to our +barricade.</p> + +<p>The saddest part of the tale is yet to +come. I had promised to procure you +a trophy unstained by association with +human slaughter, but when the day +dawned there lay poor Ibrahim stiff +and stark behind his barricade, killed +by a cold in his head.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/009.png"><img width="100%" src="images/009.png" alt=""/></a><p>PANTOMIME ANNOUNCEMENTS.</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Message Boy Wanted for Butchery."</p> + +<p class="i10"> <i>Brechin Advertiser.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>A lot of people are after that boy.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Taxi driver who laid down Fare at Royal +Hotel at 2.45 p.m. on Christmas Day, would +oblige by returning Gent's Umbrella to Hotel."</p> + +<p class="i10"><i>Aberdeen Journal.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We gather that it had been a wet +morning.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" id="page10"></a>[pg 10]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"><a href="images/010.png"><img width="100%" src="images/010.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Cyril</i> (<i>eating his bread-and-jam—with not too +much jam</i>). "<span class="sc">This is prepostrous—this war economy</span>."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>HUNTIN' WEATHER.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>There's a dog-fox down in Lannigan's spinney</p> +<p class="i2">(And Lannigan's wife has hens to mourn);</p> +<p>The hunters stamp in their stalls an' whinny,</p> +<p class="i2">Soft with leisure an' fat with corn.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The colts are pasturin', bold an' lusty,</p> +<p class="i2">Sleek they are with their coats aglow,</p> +<p>Ripe to break, but the bits grow rusty</p> +<p class="i2">And the saddles sit in a dusty row.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Old O'Dwyer was here a-Monday</p> +<p class="i2">With a few grey gran'fathers out for a field</p> +<p>(Like the ghostly hunt of a dead an'-*done day),</p> +<p class="i2">They—an' some lassies that giggled an' squealed.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The houn's they rioted like the devil</p> +<p class="i2">(They ran a hare an' they killed a goose);</p> +<p>I cursed Caubeen, but he looked me level:</p> +<p class="i2">"The boys are away—so what's the use?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The mists lie clingin' on bog an' heather,</p> +<p class="i2">Haws hang red on the silver thorn;</p> +<p>It's huntin' weather, ay, huntin' weather,</p> +<p class="i2">But trumpets an' bugles have beat the horn!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>A Debt of Honour.</h3> + +<p>Mr. Punch ventures to plead on behalf +of the nine hundred men of the +Royal Naval Division who were taken +prisoners by the enemy in the retirement +from Antwerp. Less fortunate +than those of the same Division who +were interned in Holland (for want of +official information most people imagine +that all the missing were so interned), +they lack the necessities of life. Parcels +of food are sent to them, fortnightly +to each man, as well as clothing and +tobacco; and it is known that they +receive all that is sent. Mr. Punch +begs his readers to help the fund from +which these simple comforts are provided, +and to address their gifts to +Lady <span class="sc">Gwendolen Guinness</span>, at 11, +St. James's Square, S.W.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>From a report of Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George's</span> +speech:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"The works of Ireland have been extremely +helpful, and I am glad to acknowledge that I +have been extremely helpful."</p> + +<p><i>Manchester Guardian.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>On this occasion the <span class="sc">Minister of +Munitions</span> appears to have allowed himself +the privilege of "thinking aloud."</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"<i>The Daily Mail</i> will not be published to-morrow, +and for that reason we seize the occasion +to-day of bidding our readers a merry +Christmas,"—<i>Daily Mail of December 24th.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>And a very good reason too.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Seasonable.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"The Canadian Government has granted to +Canadian troops oversea and in training at +home a Christmas allowance of one chilling."</p> + +<p><i>Provincial Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"He much regretted that it was not possible +to-day to communicate the results of the Derby +Report in any detail, or, indeed, at all. The +task had been one of stupendous bagnitude."</p> + +<p><i>Evening Standard.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Yes, but how big was the bag?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Two descriptions of the new Chief of +the Imperial General Staff:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Of Scottish descent, and familiarly known +to the Army as 'Jock,' he is one of the most +remarkable soldiers of the time."</p> + +<p><i>Glasgow Evening Times.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<blockquote><p> +"That he is known throughout the whole +Army simply as 'Wullie' is a sure token that +the private soldier has taken him to his heart."</p> + +<p><i>Glasgow Evening Citizen.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Won't the Germans be puzzled?</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Eddie Harvey (Fleetwood) and Ike Whitehouse +(Barrow) went through 15 rounds contest +for £5 a side and a nurse, and Harvey won +on points."—<i>The People.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>The stakes, we presume, were divided.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"A kid was born with monkey face and +human skull at Saidapet on the 13th instant."</p> + +<p><i>New India.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>This is headed "A Curious Phenomenon." +But is it? Some of our neighbours' +kids are just like that.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" id="page11"></a>[pg 11]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/011.png"><img width="100%" src="images/011.png" alt=""/></a><h3>THE NEW EDGE.</h3></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" id="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span> + +<h2>LONDON AS USUAL.</h2> + +<p>("<i>Kelly's London Directory</i>" for 1916, +a contemporary remarks, is very much +the same as the volume for 1915.)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Where, where are the signs of the raider</p> +<p class="i2">Who swam to our ken like a kite,</p> +<p>Who swore he had played the invader</p> +<p class="i2">And knocked us to bits in the night;</p> +<p>Who pounded these parts into jelly</p> +<p class="i2">From Mile End, he said, to the Mall?</p> +<p>For the man who should know (J. J. <span class="sc">Kelly</span>)</p> +<p class="i6">Can't spot 'em at all.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>You may turn up the street that is Vigo</p> +<p class="i2">Or alight on the Lane that is Mark;</p> +<p>You may let your incredulous eye go</p> +<p class="i2">O'er each Crescent and Corner and Park;</p> +<p>You may hunt through the humblest of alleys</p> +<p class="i2">Or the giddiest haunts of the town,</p> +<p>And Kelly's, who're "safe" as the Palace,</p> +<p class="i6">Have got 'em all down.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So I sing to those equals in wonder,</p> +<p class="i2">Of <span class="sc">Bradshaw</span> (the expert on trains),</p> +<p>Who have torn the Hun's fiction asunder—</p> +<p class="i2">That our City's a mass of remains;</p> +<p>Here's our proof that we're plainly not undone,</p> +<p class="i2">That, although every night she lies hid,</p> +<p>Our stolid undaunted old London</p> +<p class="i6">Still stands where she did.</p> + </div> </div> +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/013.png"><img width="100%" src="images/013.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Porter</i> (<i>dug-out</i>). "<span class="sc">Shall I put yer +'ockey-knockers in the van, Sir</span>?"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>STUDIES IN FRUSTRATION.</h2> + +<h3>I.</h3> + +<p>The scene was the comfortable spacious +breakfast-room in the Bishop's +Palace. His lordship sat nearest to +the fire; the bishop's wife presided +over the fragrant coffee-pot, and the +curate, their dine-and-sleep guest, sat +opposite the bishop and farthest from +the warmth. As a curate this position +was his due. Some day he also would +be a bishop, and then he too would +know what it was to intercept the +glow.</p> + +<p>The curate was looking dubiously +into the recesses of an egg. His fine +Anglican features underwent a series +of contortions.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," said the bishop, "that +that egg is not a good one."</p> + +<p>"You are right, my lord," said the +curate. " It is not only bad, it's alive. +I think it's the worst egg that was +ever offered me."</p> + + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>The wounded soldier lay in his deck-chair +placidly smoking his hundredth +cigarette that day. He was not naturally +a smoker, but cigarettes arrived in +enormous numbers and something had +to be done with them.</p> + +<p>His visitor sat beside him, note-book +in hand. "Yes?" he remarked.</p> + +<p>"And then," said the soldier, "came +the order to charge. We fixed bayonets +and rushed at the Bosches like mad. +It was glorious—like the best kind of +football match."</p> + +<p>The visitor took it all down, and +more.</p> + +<p>"I remember bayonetting two men," +said the soldier, "and then I remember +nothing else. And that's six months +ago. Still, I'm getting well, and then +there's only one thing on earth that +I really want with a passionate desire ..."</p> + +<p>"I know! I know!" said the visitor, +moistening his pencil.</p> + +<p>"Never to see any more war as long +as I live," the soldier continued.</p> + + +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>The aged artist sat in his luxurious +studio surrounded by his masterpieces—that +is, by the pictures he had never +been able to sell.</p> + +<p>The gem of the collection stood on +an easel in the middle of the room; +while a connoisseur, hat in hand, inspected +it closely, enthusiastically, +breathlessly. Then, coming over to +where the artist was resting, he sat +down opposite to him and in a voice +trembling with emotion asked, "Tell +me, how <i>do</i> you mix your colours?"</p> + +<p>There was a deep silence, almost +painful in its intensity. A drawing-pin +fell with a deafening crash.</p> + +<p>The venerable painter stood up with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" id="page14"></a>[pg 14]</span> +a calm and leonine expression. "I use +an ivory palette knife," he said.</p> + + +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p>The shadows were lengthening in +the beautiful garden. It was a warm +spring evening. The old sun-dial had +just struck seven.</p> + +<p>The poet threw aside his book and +called his Airedale terrier; the dog, responding +in time, eventually reached +his master's knee.</p> + +<p>Seizing his opportunity, the representative +of the Press observed, "You +are, I see, fond of dogs."</p> + +<p>"Fond of dogs?" replied the poet. +"I? I detest them;" and so saying he +kicked the Airedale a distance of several +feet into the air, so that, falling immediately +on the sun-dial, it was transfixed +by the gnomon.</p> + +<p>As he watched its struggles, thus +impaled, the poet laughed the hearty +resonant laugh for which he was +famous.</p> + + +<h3>V.</h3> + +<p>The Civil Service clerk so famous for +his drollery was entering the office +doors at half-past ten in the morning, +or exactly sixty minutes past the +appointed time. By an unfortunate +chance his principal met him, as, alas! +he had too often done, at the same tardy +hour. "Late again," said the great +man, consulting his watch. "I believe +that you get here later every day." +"Yes," said the clerk, "I do. But then +I always stay on and work overtime."</p> + + +<h3>VI.</h3> + +<p>The eminent publicist replaced his +glass on the table and turned to the +lady who sat beside him. "My business," +he said, "is the manufacture of +mustard. I have made a vast fortune +out of it."</p> + +<p>"How very interesting," the lady +replied absently; but the next moment, +inspired by a hidden thought, she added +with quickened interest, "Please don't +think me inquisitive, but how can a +fortune be made out of a thing like +mustard? People take so little of it."</p> + +<p>"Madam," answered the mustard +magnate deliberately, "we do not +make our fortunes from the mustard +that people eat"—</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes?" cried the lady eagerly.—"but," +he continued, "from what +they spill in mixing poultices."</p> + + +<h3>VII.</h3> + +<p>The famous money-lender one evening +arrived as usual at the Casino, +but this time only to bid his friends +good-bye.</p> + +<p>"Not leaving Monte?" they asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am," he replied; "I'm going +to Rome."</p> + +<p>"Rome?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, why not? I'm told it's wonderful. +I shall be there a month;" +and so saying he hurried to his hotel.</p> + +<p>Three days later he walked into the +Casino again.</p> + +<p>"What," cried his friends—"you +here? We thought you were going to +be in Rome a month."</p> + +<p>"So I am," said the money-lender, +"and more. I came back for my things, +most of which I left here, as it had +occurred to me I might not like it. +But I adore it. Rome is beautiful, +august, sublime. The simple severe +beauty of the Vatican, the vast solemnity +of the Campagna! It is indeed the +eternal city. Let me keep Rome!"</p> + +<p>And again he hurried away.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/014.png"><img width="100%" src="images/014.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Excited individual</i> (<i>who has picked up umbrella +left in bar, to despatch rider just leaving</i>). "<span class="sc">Hi! +Mister. Is this your umbrella?</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>A Long Turn.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"To-morrow evening Miss Phyllis Bedells +makes her final appearance at the London +Empire, where she has danced without interruption +for nine and a half years."</p> + +<p><i>Bristol Times and Mirror.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<h3>De Mortuis....</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"Tired of this much worn physical life Chief +George Moshesh bursted the bands of morality +as under Tuesday, November 2nd."</p> + +<p><i>South African Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<blockquote><p> +"Tenders invited for alterations and additions +to the late Mr. Waata W. Hipango, Pitiki, +are hereby cancelled."—<i>New Zealand Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" id="page15"></a>[pg 15]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/015.png"><img width="100%" src="images/015.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Neighbour.</i> "<span class="sc">And how does your son like his +training</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Proud Mother of Recruit.</i> "<span class="sc">Oh, he's very happy. But he says +they do take him very long walks</span>."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE XMAS ADVENTURES OF A DRAWING.</h2> + +<p><i>From Robert Simpson, Edinburgh, to +Joan Dalgleish, London.</i></p> + +<p><i>December</i> 15.</p> + +<p>Dear Miss Dalgleish,—I send you +as promised, when we parted in Skye, +one of my little drawings. I am sorry +I have had no time to get it framed. I +am off in ten days to India to resume +my work. If you have no room for +this little picture on your walls it will +do for a Red Cross Bazaar.</p> + +<p>Hoping to meet you some other +summer,</p> + +<p>Yours sincerely,</p> + +<p><span class="sc">R. Simpson.</span></p> + +<p><i>From Joan Dalgleish to Robert +Simpson.</i></p> + +<p><i>London, December</i> 17.</p> + +<p>Dear Mr. Simpson,—So many +thanks for the drawing of the bay. It +will always remind me of our delightful +holiday in the North, and in the +murky days of December it will make +me feel again in the fresh air of Scotland.</p> + +<p>With best wishes for a pleasant +journey,</p> + +<p>Yours sincerely,</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Joan Dalgleish</span>.</p> + + +<p><i>From Joan Dalgleish to Mary Morris, +Manchester.</i></p> + +<p><i>December</i> 23.</p> + +<p>Dearest Mary,—I am sending you +a little Christmas card, in the shape +of a water-colour drawing with a +calendar attached, which can be removed +each year. It will remind you +of the fine time we spent bathing and +boating on the Welsh Coast, which I +know you people in the North adore. +I have long wanted to send you some +token of our days together in that +pleasant land, and, after much searching, +here at last it is.</p> + +<p>Your affectionate Friend,</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Joan Dalgleish</span>.</p> + +<p><i>From Mary Morris to Joan Dalgleish.</i></p> + +<p><i>December</i> 24.</p> + +<p>Dearest Joan,—What a treat to see +that glorious Welsh Coast, that heaving +sea and those sunny cliffs, when I am +barely existing in this gloomy city! +<i>Always</i> will this <i>dear</i> scene be in my +sight morning and evening, to remind +me of my friend whom I miss <i>so much</i>, +and of those grand aspects of nature +which we enjoyed together.</p> + +<p>With dear love,</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mary</span>.</p> + +<p><i>From Mary Morris to Miss Eleanor +Mendip, Writers' Club, London.</i></p> + +<p><i>December</i> 30.</p> + +<p>Dear Miss Mendip,—It seems ages +since we met after your <i>great</i> visit to +Manchester and after that <i>splendid</i> +lecture on "Some Aspects of Nature." +I cannot let the New Year pass without +sending you a little picture of our +Northern coast as a humble token of +my <i>immense</i> admiration for your charming +work—the poor offering of a constant +admirer.</p> + +<p>Hoping to see you again in our city +and that you will again stay at our +home,</p> + +<p>Your affectionate admirer,</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Mary Morris</span>.</p> + + +<p><i>From Miss Mendip to Miss Morris.</i></p> + +<p><i>January</i> 2.</p> + +<p>Dear Miss Morris,—Forgive me for +not acknowledging before the graceful +tribute of your admiration for my +work. I do indeed regard you as a +friend—few girls of my acquaintance +have so real a sense of literary perfection +as my dear young friend in Manchester. +Always will I cherish your +appreciative gift as a remembrance of +my sweet young friend.</p> + +<p>Yours affectionately,</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Eleanor Mendip</span>.</p> + + +<p><i>From Miss Mendip to the Editor, +"Women's Welfare," London.</i></p> + +<p><i>January</i> 4.</p> + + +<p>Dear Mr. Scrimbles,—You said +you intended to obtain an illustration +to my paper on "Cottage Homes by +Western Waters." I can save you +trouble and some expense. I have +succeeded in obtaining just the picture +you want. I accordingly enclose it. +You can add the fee of 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> to my +cheque for the article. I hope it will +come out in February.</p> + +<p>Yours truly,</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Eleanor Mendip</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">Wanted.</span> Good School-Master, in exchange +for Blue Pom dog, 3 months, splendid +coat, or sell £1. Approval both ways."</p> + +<p><i>Welsh Paper</i>. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Lest our scholastic readers should be +incensed at this cynical estimate of +their value we hasten to inform them +that this "School-Master" is a pigeon +and not a pedagogue.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" id="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span> + +<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Puss in Boots.</span>"</p> + +<p>If Messrs. <span class="sc">Sims, Dix</span> and <span class="sc">Collins</span> +did in fact, as they claim, make the +book of this year's pantomime at the +Lane, Mr. <span class="sc">George Graves</span> gagged and +bound it. This popular annual festival +indeed tends to become more and more +of a <span class="sc">Graves</span> solo (with of course the +innumerable customary <i>da capos</i>) and +a bright sketchy <span class="sc">Evans</span> <i>obbligato</i>. As +a Grand Duchess and Duke respectively +the genial twain present themselves. +Mr. <span class="sc">George Graves</span>, in a flounced skirt +of green tartan check, copper curls +and mahogany features, is a delectable +creation; says some strangely unlady-like +things (as is expected of him); +is still oddly preoccupied with "gear-boxes" +and other anatomical detail; and +generally indulges in a fine careless +rapture of reminiscence and improvisation—zealously +assisted by Mr. <span class="sc">Will +Evans</span>' familiar tip-tilted nose and +bland refusal to be perturbed by entirely +unrehearsed effects and obviously +irregular cues. A jovial and irreverent +pair of potentates, crowned by public +laughter.</p> + +<p>There is, of course, a sort of background +to all this audacious fooling, +more definitely directed <i>virginibus +puerisque</i>. The new principal boy, +Mr. <span class="sc">Eric Marshall</span>, woos his princess +with a romantic air and a mellow +tenor, in which emotion somewhat +overshadows tone. Miss <span class="sc">Florence +Smithson</span>, an accepted Drury Lane +favourite, looks very charming, makes +love in pretty kitten wise and still +indulges in those queer harmonics of +hers—virtuosity rather than artistry, +shall we call it?—but is altogether quite +a nice princess of pantomime. Little +<span class="sc">Renée Mayer</span> is the Puss. Nothing +could well be daintier. But I hope +she will let me tell her (in a whisper, +so that the others won't hear), that she +doesn't <i>quite</i> realise what a jolly part +she has got. I would implore her to +spend an hour or two at serious play +with any decent young cat and study +the grace and variety of its beautiful, +imitable gestures. Then she will assuredly +pounce on her magician turned +mouse, and fawn on her master and +friends, with a greater air of conviction. +And she will mightily please all the +other nice children in the house.</p> + +<p>Of the great <i>ensemble</i> scenes unquestionably +the finest was the Fairy +Garden, with a quite beautiful back-cloth +by <span class="sc">R. McCleery</span> and a bewildering +(and, to tell truth, largely bewildered) +bevy of butterflies, decked by <span class="sc">Comelli,</span> +fluttering in a flowery pleasaunce. And +there was also a clever variation on +the now inevitable staircase <i>motif</i> as +a <i>finale</i>. But the Harlequinade of +happy memory has deplorably declined +to something like a mere display of +advertisements—a sad business.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="sc">The Starlight Express.</span>"</p> + +<p>It would be uncandid to pretend +that Mr. <span class="sc">Algernon Blackwood</span> gets +everything he has to say in <i>The +Starlight Express</i> safely across the +footlights—those fateful barriers that +trap so many excellent intentions. But +he so evidently <i>has</i> something to say, +and the saying is so gallantly attempted, +that he must emphatically be credited +with something done—something +rather well done really. The little +play has beautiful moments—and that +is to say a great deal.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/016.png"><img width="100%" src="images/016.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Princess Rosabel</i> ... Miss <span class="sc">Florence +Smithson</span></p> +<p><i>Florian</i> ... Mr. <span class="sc">Eric Marshall</span>.</p> +<p><i>Princess Rosabel</i> and <i>Florian</i>, a young man—though only a +miller's son—of considerable polish, especially about the hair and +feet.</p></div> + +<p>This novelist turned playwright +wishes to make you see that "the +Earth's forgotten it's a Star." In +plainer words he wants to present you +with a cure for "wumbledness." People +who look at the black side of things, +who think chiefly of themselves—these +are the wumbled. The cure is star-dust—which +is sympathy. The treatment +was discovered by the children +of a poor author in a cheap Swiss <i>pension</i> +and by "Cousinenry," a successful +business man of a quite unusual sort. +You have to get out into the cave +where the starlight is stored, gather it—with +the help of the Organ Grinder, +who loves all children and sings his +cheery way to the stars; and the +Gardener, who makes good things grow +and plucks up all weeds; and the +Lamplighter, who lights up heads and +hearts and stars impartially; and the +Sweep, who sweeps away all blacks +and blues over the edge of the world, +and the Dustman, with his sack of +Dream-dust that is Star-dust (or isn't +it?), and so forth. Then you sprinkle +the precious stuff on people, and they +become miracles of content and unselfishness. +(The fact that life isn't in +the very least like that is a thing you +have just got to make yourself forget +for three hours or so.)</p> + +<p>The author was well served by his +associates. Sir <span class="sc">Edward Elgar</span> wove +a delightfully patterned music of +mysterious import through the queer +tangle of the scenes and gave us +an atmosphere loaded with the finest +star-dust. Lighting and setting +were admirably contrived; and the +grouping of the little prologue scenes, +where that kindly handsome giant of +an organ-grinder (Mr. <span class="sc">Charles Mott</span>), +with the superbly cut corduroys, sang +so tunefully to as sweet a flock of little +maids as one could wish to see, was +particularly effective.</p> + +<p>Of the players I would especially +commend the delicately sensitive performance +of Miss <span class="sc">Mercia Cameron</span> (a +name and talent quite new to me) as +<i>Jane Anne</i>, the chief opponent of wumbledom. +She was, I think, responsible +more than any other for getting some +of the mystery of the authentic Black-woodcraft +across to the audience. The +jolly spontaneity of <span class="sc">Ronald Hammond</span> +as young <i>Bimbo</i> was a pleasant thing, +and <span class="sc">Elise Hall</span>, concealing less successfully +her careful training in the +part, prettily co-operated as his sister +<i>Monkey</i>. The part of <i>Daddy</i>, the congested +author who was either "going +to light the world or burst," was in +<span class="sc">O. B. Clarence's</span> clever sympathetic +hands. Mr. <span class="sc">Owen Roughwood</span> gave +you a sense of his belief in the efficacy +of star-dust. On what a difficult rail +our author was occasionally driving +his express you may judge when he +makes this excellent but not particularly +fragile British type exclaim, +"I am melting down in dew." The +flippant hearer had always to be inhibiting +irreverent speculations occasioned +by such speeches.</p> + +<p>I couldn't guess if the children in +the audience liked it. I hope they +didn't feel they had been spoofed, as +<span class="sc">Maeterlinck</span> so basely spoofed them +in <i>The Blue Bird</i>, by offering them a +grown-ups' play "sicklied o'er with the +pale cast of thought." But the bigger +children gave the piece a good welcome, +and called and acclaimed the shrinking +author. T.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"36 <span class="sc">Magnificent, Acclimatised, Well-bred +Dairy Cows, &c.</span> Many of these were +bred on the Premises, and others were purchased +from a renowned Breeder of Friesland +Cattle, and they need no comment from the +Auctioneers, but will speak for themselves."</p> + +<p><i>Natal Mercury.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Blowing their own horns, so to speak.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" id="page17"></a>[pg 17]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/017.png"><img width="100%" src="images/017.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Irish Sergeant.</i> "<span class="sc">Keep yer head down there! +Don't ye know that's the very place that Mike Rooney was shot through +the fut?</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THEY.</h2> + +<p>Just lately I have been thinking +often of Them. But Their image has +never been more vividly in my mind +than now, when I sit here among the +aftermath of festival. I wonder, for +example, are the homes in which They +live pervaded with this same <i>débris</i> of +Christmas (or, as They themselves are +so fond of calling it, Yuletide)? Does +dismembered turkey coldly furnish forth +Their meals? Are there too many +calendars, and a litter of crumpled +paper? And cards—do They send each +other cards? Stupendous thought!</p> + +<p>Most of all is my fancy busy with +Them to-morrow, Tuesday, December +the twenty-eighth. I see Them rising, +a little wearily, perhaps, and heavy-eyed. +Breakfast They snatch, and so +out into the winter morning towards +that place where, unknown and unrecognised, +They pursue throughout the +year Their changeless toil. I imagine +Them gathering with mutual greetings +in the workroom—a little company +about whose features I have so often +speculated. Poets are there, and artists; +probably some among the men may +wear their hair a trifle longer than the +military fashion of to-day; but the +greater part of the crowd are almost +certainly women. Now the talk dies +down; presently They are all once +more bending in silence over Their +appointed tasks.</p> + +<p>Yes, here at one desk is the artist to +whose genius we owe the obese robin +perched upon a horse-shoe, or the +churchyard by moonlight after (apparently) +a severe spangle-storm. Here +again a poet, whose eye in a fine frenzy +rolling proclaims an inspiration, or at +least some subtle variant upon a +familiar theme. He stoops and, even +as I watch, has traced swiftly, with +vibrant pen, this couplet:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"The old, old wish I send to thee,</p> +<p>Jocund may thy Xmas be!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Then, with a little sigh, he leans +back, satisfied that for him the holiday +intermission had not rusted the +fine edge of originality. "Jocund" +proved that.</p> + +<p>Behind him perhaps sits a maiden +like Fate, who with abhorred shears +fashions strange shapes and borderings +of foliage unknown to mere nature. +And further still, in yonder obscure +and shadowy corner, is one who by +her art can penetrate the future and +outstrip the foot of Time himself. For +see, upon her cards, there is already +written—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"With every blessing good and true</p> +<p>May the New Year be packed,</p> +<p>And 1917 bring to you</p> +<p>What 1916 lacked."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>I wonder—how does their work seem +to Them upon this morning after +Boxing-day?</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>What to do with our Boys.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"Bun-Prover wanted, 20-25 Trays Capacity." +</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Portsmouth Evening News.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Not from the Cocoa Press.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"At a concert given in the sick bay, H.M.S. +Crystal Palace, 34 large boxes of chocolates +were distributed among the patients. Mr. +Balfour sent a telegram wishing the men a +speedy recovery."—<i>The Times.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p>The following advertisement appeared +on Dec. 23:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Lady recommends her Companion-Hosekeeper."—<i>Morning +Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>She was not going to risk her own +Christmas stocking.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"It is no easy thing to replace an artist of +the quality of Miss Lily Elsie, who, in spite +of the warmth of her reception at His +Majesty's Theatre, recently took so severe a +chill that the doctor would not hear of her +playing again for some time."—<i>Daily Mail.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>The figurative has no chance with the +actual.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" id="page18"></a>[pg 18]</span> + + +<h2>AT THE SOURCE.</h2> + +<p>"Oh," said Francesca, coming into the library, "I see +you're busy with your papers. Don't let me disturb you."</p> + +<p>"If," I said, "it depended on me I wouldn't. I'd take +you at your word and have you out of the room in two-twos. +But you wouldn't like that, now, would you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I should have to enter a protest. That's +right, isn't it? Protests <i>are</i> things that have to be entered, +aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "they're like candidates for examinations, +or rooms, only some rooms oughtn't to be entered, +but are."</p> + +<p>"Jocose?" said Francesca.</p> + +<p>"No," I said; "I was thinking of Blue Beard. I daresay +you remember about him. He was a very uxorious +man, you know, and most domestic. Something of a +traveller, and when"—</p> + +<p>"We won't worry about Blue Beard," she said. "I +think I know the outlines of his family history."</p> + +<p>"Well then," I said, "why can't you leave me alone? +You see I'm busy and yet you insist on staying here and +interrupting me. Do you call that being a helpmeet?"</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "I call it joining myself unto you, and +that's what we were told to do to one another in the +marriage service."</p> + +<p>"You're wrong," I said. "I was told to do that unto +you, but you were told to submit yourself unto me and to +reverence me."</p> + +<p>"It's all the same," she said. "All I'm doing is to help +you to obey the Prayer-Book."</p> + +<p>"Anyhow," I said, "you've sat down and you mean to +stay here. Is that what it comes to?"</p> + +<p>"It is," she said. "You're in tremendous guessing form +to-day."</p> + +<p>"All I know," I said gloomily, "is that if my return for +Income Tax contains many mistakes it'll be your fault, not +mine; and I shall take care so to inform the <span class="sc">Chancellor +of the Exchequer</span>. I shall put down in the Exemptions +and Abatements, 'Interrupted by wife. Abatement claimed, +£100.' The <span class="sc">Chancellor</span> will understand. He's a married +man himself."</p> + +<p>"So you're doing your Income Tax," she said dreamily. +"I've often wondered how that was done. Do you +like it?"</p> + +<p>"No, Francesca," I said, "I do not like it. To be quite +frank with you I detest it."</p> + +<p>"But you're helping the War," she said. "That ought +to buck you up like anything. Every extra penny you pay +is a smack in the eye for the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span>, so cheer up and make +a good big return."</p> + +<p>"I will do," I said, "what is strictly fair between myself +and the Government. I can afford to be just to the +<span class="sc">Chancellor</span>, but, by Heaven, I cannot afford to be +generous. Generosity has no place in an Income Tax +return."</p> + +<p>"Go ahead with it then," she said. "I don't know +what's stopping you."</p> + +<p>"You," I said, "are stopping me—you and that part of +my income from which the tax is not deducted at the +source."</p> + +<p>"That sounds quite poetical," she said. "It runs into +metre directly. Listen:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>No man can well be rude or even coarse</p> +<p>Who has his tax deducted at the source.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>But I wish you'd tell me what it means."</p> + +<p>"Francesca," I said bitterly, "you are pleased to be a +rhymer. You are, in fact, rhyming while the exchequer is +burning; and then you add insult to injury by asking me +the meaning of an elementary financial phrase."</p> + +<p>"Well, what <i>does</i> it mean?"</p> + +<p>"It means," I said, "that if your money is invested in +public companies or things of that nature, then when your +half-yearly dividend—You know what a dividend is?"</p> + +<p>"Rather," she said. "It comes in on blue paper or pink, +and you say, 'That's something to be thankful for;' and +you write your name on one half of it and you send +that half to the bank, and you tear off the other half and +lose it in the next spring-cleaning. I know what a dividend +is all right."</p> + +<p>"Francesca," I said, "your knowledge is very wonderful. +But if you suppose that that is the whole dividend, you are +much mistaken. It is the dividend minus the tax. The +company saves you trouble by deducting the tax and pays +it to the <span class="sc">Chancellor</span> for you."</p> + +<p>"Bravo the company!" said Francesca.</p> + +<p>"And so say I. You see you never get that part of your +money, so there's no temptation to spend it—in fact you +don't spend it."</p> + +<p>"That," she said, "sounds highly plausible."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but listen. Suppose you've got some little job at, +say, two hundred and fifty pounds a year"—</p> + +<p>"Like the little job you were so pleased to get a few +years ago."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "more or less like that."</p> + +<p>"Not so honourable, of course," said Francesca.</p> + +<p>"No, of course not, but similar as to emoluments. Well, +in that case you get the whole amount, and you spend it in +perfectly useless things and forget all about it after you've +put it down in your return; and then suddenly some +Surveyor of Taxes writes and demands Income Tax on +those two hundred and fifty pounds, actually demands +something like forty pounds. I tell you, it goes through +you like a knife."</p> + +<p>"Haven't you any remedy?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I could chuck the job," I said, "or do it for +nothing. Yes, I think I'll chuck it. It'll be a lesson +to them."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "it would probably make the Government +sit up—but, on the whole, I don't think I should go +so far if I were you. You see"—</p> + +<p>"Go on," I said, for she was hesitating. "Let us strip +ourselves of everything at once and throw ourselves on +the charity of our neighbours."</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "I'd go on for a bit. A job's a job +even if it does make you pay. You've had £210 on balance, +and you ought to be thankful to have been allowed to pay +forty pounds for munitions."</p> + +<p>"And now," I said, "perhaps you'll let me get on with +my work."</p> + +<p>R. C. L.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>The Pull-Through:</h3> + +<p><i>Being a paraphrase of an answer in an O.T.C. examination.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Just one long pull, a straight strong pull—no other pull will do;</p> +<p>A man must never take two pulls to pull the pull-through through.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Village Amenities.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"The hearty congregational stinging was a feature of church life +to be proud of."—<i>Parish Magazine.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">Wanted.</span>—Comfortable Home with private family for Gentleman +who is not strong in Brighton, Eastbourne, or St. Leonards."</p> + +<p><i>The Times.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>The poor fellow should try Bournemouth or Torquay.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" id="page19"></a>[pg 19]</span> + +<h3>GETTING EVEN.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/019.png"><img width="100%" src="images/019.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Outraged victim of "Confidential Report" (being +put to bed prematurely</i>). "<span class="sc">Please, God, Nurse <i>sewed</i> for +her soldier on SUNDAY</span>!"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<p>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</p> + +<p>If it should ever be your lot, which pray Heaven forbid, +to be stranded on the coast of Panama, seek out Miss +<span class="sc">Winifred James</span> as your hostess, for she can teach you +how to tolerate, and even in a way enjoy, an existence one +might have thought unendurable. She lives, I gather, +some two hundred miles or so from the Canal, in a town +that is going to be built some fine day on a site that has +to be prepared by filling up a marsh with clay and sand. +In the meantime, until the day and the town arrive, she +rightly describes herself as <i>A Woman in the Wilderness</i> +(<span class="sc">Chapman and Hall</span>). Civilisation is turned back to front +out there, for although such comforts as refrigerators and +electric light are a matter of course, there is still lacking +to <i>Mrs. Henry de Jan</i> and her rather shadowy <i>William</i> +anything, for instance, in the nature of a road on which to +walk, or indeed any approach to their own verandah except, +floating on the clay, a narrow plank gangway that has to +serve as a hustling high-road for a mixed and dusky +populace. Under the circumstances she has done nobly +well to arm herself with the twin defences of cheerfulness +and humour; and if the cheerfulness comes at times near +to being that of a martyr on the rack, while the fun is +perilously apt to swing from themes that are nice for a +lady's wit to others that are not so nice, and back to sheer +triviality, what, in the name of a population of sand-flies +and negroes, can you expect? It is much that so lifelike +a picture of a region so desolate should be presented on +the whole with sweetness and charm, when no better +material is available than the myriad misdeeds of her +coloured servants, the antics of her puppies and an occasional +reminiscence of home.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Certainly <span class="sc">Violet Hunt</span> and <span class="sc">Ford Madox Hueffer</span> have +one achievement to their credit. They have evolved an +entirely new and original setting in which to bring together +a number of short stories. What is supposed to happen is +that sundry persons who did not feel exactly drawn towards +bed before 2 <span class="sc">A.M.</span> on those summer nights when Zeppelins +were about, meet for bridge and sandwiches and incidentally +to listen to certain stories read aloud by their author. +In this way they are able to forget their apprehensions of +the gas-bags (dare I put it that they lose Count?) and spend +a pleasant series of evenings with history. For the stories +in <i>Zeppelin Nights</i> (<span class="sc">Lane</span>) are all historical of a kind. +Mostly they deal with the byways of history, or rather with +the emotions of ordinary people who are just on the outer +edge of historical happenings. For example, the central +figure of the first is a slave whose basket of figs is upset by +<span class="sc">Pheidippides</span> running from Marathon; while the last concerns +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" id="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span> +an insignificant little anti-militarist who finds himself +cheering for the army on the outbreak of the Boer War. +That is the kind of tales they are, slight and momentary +things, with no plot but plenty of atmosphere, and in +their style remarkably well done. Whether they would +actually keep the nerve-ridden oblivious of bombs for the +thousand-and-one nights that might have seen raids and +didn't is a matter that need not concern us. For my part, +I liked as much as any the pages in which Miss <span class="sc">Hunt</span> or +Mr. <span class="sc">Hueffer</span> folded up her or his manuscript and allowed +the other (whichever it was) to tell us about the very +pleasant and human audience. I had only one disappointment, +but that was acute. I did want just once for them +to hear a distant bang, and see what happened. I rather +doubt whether the placid and literary charm of the tales +would have sufficed to keep them within doors had there +been anything to see outside.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"In his hot indignation his yellowish face had in places +turned blackish: literally, +black streaks ran from the +corners of his lips upwards +and downwards, and from +the inner corners of his +eyes." If you read that +sentence in a novel with +Mr. <span class="sc">Edgar Jepson's</span> name +on the cover, and found +that the passage was a description +of a man named +<i>Shadrach Penny</i>, would you +not, as I did, settle down +comfortably in your armchair +and wait with perfect +confidence for the human +zebra to murder somebody +in the most fascinatingly +brutal manner? But he did +not do anything of the +kind. I think that the fact +that I was disappointed in, +and even seriously bored +by, <i>The Man Who Came +Back</i> (<span class="sc">Hutchinson</span>) was +largely due to the mild, dull +way in which the story developed. And yet I think I could +have forgiven the absence of lurid sensationalism if the +book had been a good book of its kind. It is not. It is so +crude and amateurish that it is difficult to believe that a +professional writer could have written it. Mr. <span class="sc">Jepson</span>, like +most other authors, has had the idea of modernising the +story of the Prodigal Son. He adheres to the original story +closely in one respect, for <i>Roland Penny's</i> first meal in his +old home consists of roast veal, but he departs from it in +making <i>Roland</i>, so far from wasting his substance, amass +a large fortune among the husks and swine. I do not +know how to classify <i>The Man Who Came Back</i>. It is not +a novel of incident, for nothing happens in it. It is not a +novel of character, for there is no attempt at any but the +crudest character-drawing. It is just a six-shilling novel, +and I do not see what else one can say of it. Mr. <span class="sc">Jepson</span> +must do one of two things. He must either brace up and +make his style less irritatingly slipshod, or he must give us +a few more murders. If we cannot have literary elegance +he must give us blood.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Lieutenant <span class="sc">L. B. Rundall</span>, of the 1st Gurkha Rifles, +author of <i>The Ilex of Stra-Ping</i> (<span class="sc">Macmillan</span>), was not only +a soldier and a sportsman, but a writer with a most +keen sense of the beauty of nature and the beauty of +words. Children should love these Himalayan sketches, +for Mr. <span class="sc">Rundall</span>, from material which in some cases was +admittedly slight, could weave a tale full of magic and +charm. The story of the old brown bear in "The Scape-goat" +may not greatly stir the heart with the thrill of +adventure, but the hero has attractions that no child and +no man that has not forgotten his childhood could resist. +An inconspicuous notice in the book tells us that the +author fell in action towards the close of 1914. I salute +his memory. Rich as we are to-day in authors who can +write enchantingly of birds and animals, I feel a sense of +personal sorrow in the loss of one whose work gave so fair +a promise of high achievement.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>When you take up <i>Russian Folk-Tales</i> (<span class="sc">Kegan, Paul</span>), +don't allow yourself to be subdued by the deplorably learned +preface of the translator, Mr. <span class="sc">Leonard Magnus, LL.B.</span>, +because it is not the proper attitude really. Forget how +little business a Bachelor +of Law has to lay his +sceptical hands on such +inappropriate material, and +plunge into a jolly, bewildering +tangle of tales +of magic and adventure, +bloodthirstiness and treachery, +simple charity, <i>vodka</i> +and genial superstition. +You will be led from one +to the other, puzzled but, +I dare conjecture, highly +entertained. I think you +may take it, too, that a +certain healthy sort of +children will like to have +these queer stories read +aloud. The villainies of +the <i>Bába Yagá</i>, an old +witch of terrific resourcefulness, +and the oddly inconsequent +animal stories +should make particular appeal. +But you will be hard +put to it to answer the +questions which will be thrust at you; and (by the way) +perhaps you will discreetly have to leave out a phrase or +two for prudence' sake. On no account let the youngsters +read the preface. I am not really quite sure whether you +ought to read it yourself.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/020.png"><img width="100%" src="images/020.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Recruit.</i> "<span class="sc">Aw—I say Sergeant—I'm afraid this +horse is a bit too tall for me</span>."</p> +<p><i>Sergeant</i> (<i>old school</i>). "<span class="sc">Oh! And does the <i>colour</i> +suit you, Sir</span>?"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>The Charge of the Six Hundred.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Some three-score years or so ago six hundred gallant men</p> +<p>Made a charge that cost old England dear, they lost four hundred then;</p> +<p>To-day six hundred make a charge that costs the country dear,</p> +<p>But now they take four hundred each—four hundred pounds a year.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Somebody to steal of my cabbage, cauliflower, old potato, new +potato, and a small rake and hooks, fork. Everything. Somebody +snatch on Thursday and Saturday night. Perhaps anybody to see the +steal man to take something from my garden to tell me about that +is I will reward five pounds truth, £3 for tell-tale.—<span class="sc">Wong Long.</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Poverty Bay Herald.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p><span class="sc">Wong Long</span> apparently differs from the accepted authorities +as to the value of hearsay evidence.</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 150, JANUARY 5, 1916***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 22602-h.txt or 22602-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/6/0/22602">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/6/0/22602</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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+++ b/22602-page-images/p018.png diff --git a/22602-page-images/p019.png b/22602-page-images/p019.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..141e0de --- /dev/null +++ b/22602-page-images/p019.png diff --git a/22602-page-images/p020.png b/22602-page-images/p020.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd71fbc --- /dev/null +++ b/22602-page-images/p020.png diff --git a/22602.txt b/22602.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef3634e --- /dev/null +++ b/22602.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2217 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 150, +January 5, 1916, by Various, Edited by Owen Seaman + + +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. 150, January 5, 1916 + + +Author: Various + +Editor: Owen Seaman + +Release Date: September 14, 2007 [eBook #22602] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, +VOL. 150, JANUARY 5, 1916*** + + +E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, David King, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 22602-h.htm or 22602-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/6/0/22602/22602-h/22602-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/6/0/22602/22602-h.zip) + + + + + +PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI + +VOL. 150 + +JANUARY 5, 1916. + + + + + + + +The Whitefriars Press. + + + +RESOLUTIONS. + + I will not breakfast in my bed + With downy cushions at my head; + That would be very wrong--and so + Away the eggs and bacon go! + + I will not read in bed at night + And burn the dear electric light; + Nor buy another costly hat; + Oh no! I'm much too good for that. + + But I will rise before the dawn + And weed and cut and roll the lawn; + My border I will plant with veg, + Abundantly from hedge to hedge. + + And all the day I'll practise thrift + And no more happily will drift + In deeper debt, as once, alas! + --But what an awful year I'll pass. + + * * * * * + +The Art of Sinking. + + "Altogether we sank one gunboat, five steamers (one of 3,000 + tons), and 17 large sailing ships, three trains, and one railway + embankment."--_Manchester Guardian._ + + * * * * * + +Very Light Marching Order. + +From a notice issued to recruits for the New Zealand Expeditionary +Force:-- + + "You should report wearing a pair of serviceable boots, and + bring with you your toilet outfit--no additional clothing is + required." + + * * * * * + + "In a conversation with members of the Press Mr. Ford said now + was the time for peace on the basis of the _status quo anti + bellum_." + + _Scotch Paper._ + +He always spells it that way. + + * * * * * + +AN ILL-USED AUTHOR. + +"I gather, Sir," remarked my fellow-traveller, after I had put away the +writing-block on which I had been jotting down the outline of an +article, "that you are a literary man, like myself?" + +We were the only occupants of a compartment in a L. & N. W. R. carriage. +I had been too absorbed till then to notice his appearance, but I now +observed that he had rather unkempt hair, luminous eyes, and a soft hat. +"Oh, well," I admitted, "I write." + +"But I take it that, whatever you write, it is not _poetry_," he said. +What led him to this inference I cannot say, but I had to confess that +it was correct. + +"Still, even though you are not a Poet yourself, I hope," he said, "you +can feel some sympathy for one who has been so infamously treated as I +have." + +I replied that I hoped so too. + +"Then, Sir," said he, "I will tell you my unhappy story. At the +beginning of this War I was approached by certain Railway magnates who +shall be nameless. It appeared that they had realised, very rightly, +that their official notices were couched in too cold and formal a style +to reach the heart of their public. So they commissioned me to supply +what I may term the human touch. As a poet, I naturally felt that this +could only be effectively done through the medium of verse. Well, I rose +to the occasion, Sir; I produced some lines which, printed as they were +written, must infallibly have placed me at the head of all of my +contemporaries. But they were _not_ printed as they were written. In +proof of which I will trouble you to read very carefully the opening +paragraph of those 'Defence of the Realm Regulations' immediately above +your head ... Only the opening paragraph at present, please!" + +I was somewhat surprised, but, thinking it best to humour him, I read +the first sentence, which was: "_In view of possible attack by hostile +aircraft, it is necessary that the blinds of all trains should be kept +down after sunset_," and gave him my opinion of it. + +"Whether," he said, with some acerbity, "it is or is not as lucidly +expressed as you are pleased to consider, only the beginning of it is +mine. This is what I actually wrote:-- + + "'In view of possible attack + By hostile aircraft overhead, + 'Tis necessary now, alack! + Soon as old Sol has sought his bed, + That those who next the window sit, + Though they'd prefer to watch the gloaming, + Should draw the blind, nor leave a slit, + Keeping it down until they're homing, + Else on the metals will be thrown + A glowing trail as from a comet, + And Huns to whom a train is shown + Will most indubitably bomb it!' + +"That," he observed complacently, "is not only verse of the highest +order, but clearly conveys the reason for such precautions, which the +official mind chose to cut out. And now let me ask you to read the next +paragraph." I did so. "_At night-time when the blinds are drawn_" it +ran, "_passengers are requested before alighting to make sure when the +train stops that it is at the platform_." + +"Which," he cried fiercely, "is their mangled and mutilated version of +this:-- + + "'At night-time when the blinds are drawn + (As screens against those devils' spawn, + Which love the gloom, but dread the dawn), + A train may be at standstill, + Then we request 'twill not occur + That some impatient passenger, + Whose nerves are in a chronic stir, + And neither feet nor hands still, + Without preliminary peep + Will forth incontinently leap, + Alighting in a huddled heap + To lie, a limp or flat form, + In some inhospitable ditch, + If not on grittier ballast, which + (The darkness far surpassing pitch) + He took to be the platform!' + +"As to the next paragraph," he continued, "I don't complain so much, +though, personally, I consider '_Extract from Order made by the +Secretary of State for the Home Department_' a very poor paraphrase of +the resounding couplet in which I introduced him:-- + + "'Now speaks in genial tones, from heart to heart meant, + The Secretary for the Home Department!' + +"I could have overlooked that, Sir, if they had retained the lines I had +written for him. But they've only let him speak the first four +words--'_Passengers in Railway Carriages_'--and then drivel on thus: +'_which are provided with blinds must keep the blinds covered so as to +cover the windows'_--a clumsy tautology, Sir, for which I am sure no +Home Secretary would care to be held responsible, and from which I had +been at some pains to save him, as you may judge when I read you the +original text:-- + + "'Passengers in railway carriages + Possess a sense which none disparages; + So those who are not perverse or froward + May be trusted to see that the blinds are lowered, + To cover the windows so totally + That no one inside can be seen, or see. + Mem.--This need not be done, as lately decided, + If blinds for the windows have not been provided.' + +"But," he went on, "the deadliest injury those infernal officials +reserved for the last. If you read the concluding sentence, Sir, you +will observe that it begins: '_The blinds may be lifted in case of +necessity_!' (That, I need hardly say, is _entirely_ my own. There is a +sort of inspired swing in it, the true lyrical lilt with which even +red-tape has not dared to tamper! But mark how they go on): '_when the +train is at a standstill at a station, but, if lifted, they must be +lowered again before the train starts_.' And this insufferable bathos, +forsooth, was substituted for lines like these:-- + + "'The blinds may be lifted in case of necessity; + Thus, if the train at a station should halt, + And the traveller hears not its name, nor can guess it, he + Cannot be held to commit any fault, + Still farther be fined, + Should he pull up the blind + Out of mere curiosity: had he not looked + He might miss the station for which he had booked!' + +"Well," he concluded, "that is my case. But I can never put it before +the public myself. My pride would not permit me. Though, if +someone--yourself, for instance--would present my claims to redress--" + +I couldn't help thinking that he had been hardly treated, and so I +undertook to do what I could for him. He gave me his verses, also his +name, which latter I have unfortunately forgotten. However, I hope I +have redeemed my promise here in other respects. + +There are times when I wonder uneasily whether he may not have been +pulling my leg. But, after all, he could have had no possible object in +doing that. Besides, if, the next time you travel by the L. & N.-W., you +will study the printed instructions in your compartment, I fancy you +will agree with me that they corroborate his statements to a rather +remarkable extent. + +F. A. + + * * * * * + +A Christmas Trifle. + + "Some stale sponge cake is cut in slices less than an inch + thick, and these are spread generously with jam and arranged on + a crystal dish, blanched and chopped with Clara and Jo and all + their young cousins."--_The Bulletin._ + + * * * * * + +THE RUSH TO SALONIKA. + +[Illustration: Wilhelm and Franz Joseph. "FERDIE, THE POST OF HONOUR IS +YOURS." + +Ferdie. "YOU CAN HAVE IT."] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Fair Hostess_ (_entertaining wounded soldier_). "And so +one Jack Johnson buried you, and the next dug you up again and landed +you on the top of a barn! Now, what were your feelings?" + +_Tommy._ "If you'll believe me, Ma'am, I was never more surprised in all +my life."] + + * * * * * + +INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS. + +It has come as an immense relief to all true lovers of peace to learn +that such German soldiers as have been taking part in the war on the +Italian frontier have previously resigned their positions in the +KAISER'S army and been re-enrolled under the Austrian flag, so that no +untoward incident may disturb the profound peace which exists between +Germany and Italy. All the same there are elements of possible danger in +the situation which should be carefully watched. We look forward to a +time when our gallant ally may be confidently expected to advance on to +German soil, and we think it would be well for the authorities at Rome +(unless the invading host is provided with Montenegrin uniforms) to +serve out beforehand a large number of tourist coupons, available over a +wide choice of different routes. This might avert the terrible +consequences that are likely to follow a breach of relations. + +Of course it must be remembered that Italy has now signed on not to +enter into a separate peace, and no doubt the only true economy is to +make the present one go as far as possible, as it cannot be replaced. +Still, since the sinking of the _Ancona_ by a German crew (partially +whitewashed so as to look like Austrians), Italy's neutrality has become +of an extremely virulent order. + +We need hardly say that President WILSON even on his honeymoon is +closely watching the situation and thinking over it very deeply, very +slowly and very calmly, hoping to discover hints for his own future +guidance. It is said that he feels himself being drawn more and more +into the vortex, and his attitude of passive belligerency may be +followed by one of aggressive non-interference. It is common knowledge +in Washington that if he can get no satisfaction on the _Ancona_ +question he will either despatch a new note (which will be _almost_ an +ultimatum) or simply pass on and declare war on Albania. + +Portugal (as the ancient ally of Great Britain), who has already been +involved in a scrap with German troops in Angola, is naturally deeply +exercised as to what are her present relations with Turkey. The matter +is an urgent one and might become crucial in the event of a Turkish +Zeppelin drifting in a fog over Portuguese territory. + +The King of GREECE is said to have found a happy solution of his +difficulty about a Bulgarian invasion of Greece. The incoming forces are +to be provided with return tickets to Salonika and back, available only +for forty-five days, and containing a stipulation that the traveller may +not break his journey at any other point. + + * * * * * + +"FOR THIS RELIEF--" + +(_Suggested by the poster commending a recent Revue as "the last word in +syncopation."_) + + The days of our mourning are ended, + The lean years of famine are fled, + When, sick for a spoonful of aught that was tuneful, + We've sorrowed as over the dead + For Music, forlorn and unfriended, + Gone down into glimmerless gloom, + While rude "rag-time" revels were dancing a devils' + Tattoo on her tomb. + + A new dawn of promise doth redden + The rim of our Stygian night; + Our bondage is breaking--O blessed awaking + To melody merry and bright! + My heart, long o'erloaded and leaden, + Now bounds to the blue like a bird; + The shadow has shifted; with paean uplifted + I hail that "last word"! + + * * * * * + +CHARIVARIA. + +Leap Year Anticipations.--A fine spring is expected in France, Flanders +and Poland. If the weather is propitious a total eclipse will be visible +in Berlin and Vienna. + + *** + +Asked by some American journalists where the Peace Conference would be +held, Dr. SVEN HEDIN is reported to have said, "Peace will be dictated +from Berlin." And so say all of us! + + *** + +Relations between Potsdam and Sofia are said to be badly strained. Three +days after the Kaiser had issued his celebrated manifesto, "To my noble +and heroic Serbian people," FERDINAND in the Sobranje was publicly +denouncing the Serbians as obstinate, treacherous, and tyrannical. The +KAISER considers this conduct extremely tactless, and threatens, if it +continues, to spell Bulgarian with a "V." + + *** + +All hitherto-published explanations of the threatened German attack on +the Suez Canal are hereby cancelled. The fact is that the KAISER'S fleet +is increasing so rapidly that it has outgrown its present accommodation. + + *** + +During the visit of Mr. FORD'S Ark to Bergen the following notice was +posted up at the Grand Hotel:--"All members of the Henry Ford Peace +Expedition are requested to call for their laundry at the Grand Hotel, +Room 408, Tuesday evening after supper. This notice supersedes the +original plan to have the laundry delivered to each individual hotel." +It may also explain why the members of the expedition have since washed +their dirty linen in public. + + *** + +Some of the pilgrims on the _Oscar II._ were much annoyed at the +prohibition of card-playing on board. "What is the use," they asked, "of +crying _Pax_ when there are none?" + + *** + +Some strait-laced Conservatives, who were a little shocked to see the +announcement of "Mr. Balfour on the Film," were comforted on its being +pointed out to them that Mr. CHAPLIN set him the example. + + *** + +A ten-year-old girl's essay on "Patriotism":--"Patriotism is composed of +patriots, and they are people who live in Ireland and want Mr. Redmond +or other people to be King of Ireland. They are very brave, some of +them, and are so called after St. Patrick, who is Ireland's private +saint. The patriots who are brave make splendid soldiers. The patriots +who are not brave go to America." + + *** + +Lord KITCHENER, who has a choice collection of old china, has lately +added to it several fine specimens of Crown Derby. + + *** + +So many Parliamentarians have recently requested the Treasury to stop +sending them their L400 a year that a slight change in the designation +of the others is suggested--P.M. (Paid Member) instead of M.P. + + *** + +A soldier's letter: "DEAR SIS,--You ask what I want--well, for Heaven's +sake send us a barber! You never saw such heads in your life as we've +got. + +Lovingly, Bob. + +P.S.--Failing a barber send us a box of hair-pins." + + *** + +Is it true that while the Cliff Hotel at Gorleston was blazing furiously +during the gale last week a zealous official went up to the unfortunate +proprietor and threatened him with pains and penalties for allowing a +naked light to be seen far out at sea? + + *** + +We understand that since the entrance-fee was suspended and the +subscription reduced, the Automobile Club has increased its membership +so largely that the Committee are thinking of re-naming it the Omnibus. + + *** + +A conversation in the trenches:-- + +_Private Dougal McTavish_ (_late of the Alberta Police_): "Mon, in ma +section 'tis aften fafty degrees below zero. But, bless ye, 'tis dry +cold, ye'll never feel it." + +_L.C. Owen Tyrrell_ (_late of Carpentaria Telegraphs_): "Down-under it +is usually 125 in the shade. But thin it is dry heat, you are niver +sinsible of ut." + +_Corpl. James Brown_ (_late Tram Conductor, Vancouver_): "In B.C. we +stake upon 312 to 314 rainy days in the year. But it is dry rain, it +don't wet you." + + *** + +In an article on the employment of women as dentists, the writer says: +"A new charm has been added to the delights of dentistry." Optimist! + + *** + +He also says that one lady "extracted 38 teeth from nine patients, and +showed little signs of fatigue from it, either." But what about the +nine? + + *** + +We observe that Mr. PEARCE, the Commonwealth Minister of Defence, fell +while in his garden and broke two of his ribs, but are glad to learn +that his condition is not serious. The conjunction of a rib, a garden, +and a fall has in at least one previous case resulted in permanent +injury. + + *** + +A martyr to insomnia threatens, unless the Government stops the +whistling for taxis, to let Mr. MCKENNA whistle for his. + + *** + +Our men in the trenches are beginning to welcome the German gas-attacks. +They say there is nothing like them for keeping down the rats. + + *** + +Suggested motto for the controversy between the headmasters as to the +publication of Public School Rolls of Honour--"Quot dominies tot +santentiae." + + * * * * * + +THE NEW LEAF. + +[Illustration: Fancy portrait of Prussian poet preparing to write a Hymn +of Love--in case it should be wanted.] + + * * * * * + +Note. + +The "Wingfield House" mentioned in the article "Cases," which appeared +in _Punch_ a fortnight ago, was a purely imaginary name and had nothing +to do with the Wingfield House, near Trowbridge, where a hospital has +for some time been established. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Juvenile War Lord._. "'Ere! Someone else 'ave a go--I'm +sick o' war. It ain't in reason ter expect a bloke ter be the Kaiser +three days running!"] + + * * * * * + +THE VINDICATION OF JIMMY. + +In one corner of the school play-ground stood a small boy in deep +dejection, with his hands in his pockets, his lower lip trembling +slightly, whilst he strove to kick a hole in the ground with his right +toe. It was Jimmy--Jimmy in his hour of trial. + +He wasn't going to blub, he wasn't going to do anything. + +Suddenly he stopped kicking at the ground, as he remembered that his +mother had told him he must be careful of his boots now that the War was +on. + +He took out of his pocket a match-box, the temporary home of a large +beetle--a buzzer, Jimmy called it--which had hitherto refused to eat +either grass or bran or Indian corn. His gaze then wandered to a hole in +his stockings, which he had mended by applying ink to the exposed part +of his skin. + +From the opposite side of the playground came the tumultuous noise of +the calm deliberations of Form II. + +Jimmy knew perfectly well that they were discussing him, and that in +time one of their number would be sent to inform him of the verdict and +sentence. + +He expected that he would have to fight them all, one by one, and he +wondered how many blows he would be able to stand without returning +them, for to hit back was out of the question under the unfortunate +circumstances. + +Jimmy wished they would get it over, for he was quite willing to undergo +any form of punishment they might decide upon, if only they would let +him know quickly. He hoped they wouldn't make the Biffer fight him, not +that he was afraid of the Biffer, but because it would be so hard to +keep himself from hitting back, and that he had decided not to do. You +see the Biffer was a new boy, and, for another thing, he wore a leather +strap round his wrist. On his very first day at school the Biffer had +volunteered the information that he once gave a boy such a biff on the +nose that he had sprained his wrist, and that ever since he had worn a +wrist strap, lest it should happen again. It was Jimmy who had +nick-named him the Biffer, and from that time the Biffer had sought +Jimmy's blood. + +But Jimmy was not easy to quarrel with. + +He was the acknowledged champion of Form II., and you had to commit +three offences before Jimmy would seriously consider you. At the first +offence you got a note with the one word "Beware!" written upon it; at +the second, another note with the word "Blood" written underneath a +skull and crossbones; and at the third you received a note with the word +"Deth," and underneath was the drawing of a coffin. + +The Biffer had so far arrived at the second note. + +Jimmy did hope they wouldn't choose the Biffer, for he could hear even +now the Biffer's yell when he had made that awful mistake which had +brought about the present deplorable situation. + +Jimmy couldn't think how he had come to say what he did say; he could +have bitten off his tongue when he realised it; but it was too late--he +had said it. + +He tried to think how it had all occurred, and the scene flashed again +before his mind. There was the master with his pointer resting upon the +Dogger Bank on the map of Europe. + +"Who can tell me the name of this sea?" he had said, and Jimmy had +snapped his fingers and waved his arm about in his anxiety to catch the +master's eye. You see, it was so seldom, so very seldom, that Jimmy felt +he knew the right answer to any question, and the new experience was +intoxicating. The master too seemed to find it unusual, and he at once +turned to Jimmy and said, "Well, what is this sea called, then?" Jimmy, +full of the pride of knowledge, burst out with "The North Sea, Sir." Oh! +if he had only stopped at that; but in his desire to show how much he +knew he added without thinking the fatal words, "or German Ocean!" + +In the shout of derision which had followed, Jimmy realised what he had +said, and felt himself falling, falling, falling.... + +Jimmy became aware that the noise on the opposite side of the playground +was ceasing, and soon, from the corner of his eye, he saw Jones minimus +detach himself from the crowd. "Half a mo'," he heard Jones minimus say; +"I want to get a knotted handkerchief," and he saw him hurry into the +school. As he emerged he flourished the knotted handkerchief, but when +delivering the verdict to Jimmy that he would have to run the gauntlet +three times to the tune of the knotted handkerchiefs of Form II., he +tried to smuggle into Jimmy's hands an exercise-book which he said Jimmy +could stuff up his back; it would stick there if Jimmy buttoned his +jacket, he said, and it would take the sting off a bit. Jimmy had to +bite his lip as he refused the exercise-book, and then with head erect +and lips no longer trembling he went forth to face the ordeal. + +Form II. had arranged themselves in two ranks, facing one another, and +the knots in the handkerchiefs were firm and hard. "You have got to bunk +through and back again and then down again," said Jones minimus in a +hoarse whisper. + +The Biffer was at the head of one rank, and had got his handkerchief +slung over his shoulder in happy readiness for the first blow. + +"Are you ready? Go!" shouted Form II. in one voice. + +At the word "Go!" Jimmy pulled his hands out of his pockets--he was glad +his mother wasn't there to see him--and with head still up and eyes to +the front he walked slowly up the double lines and as slowly down them. +The Biffer got in a good one, he got in two before Jimmy was out of +reach, and he then changed the handkerchief to his left hand in +readiness for the return journey. Arrived at the end of the lines, Jimmy +turned on his heel and began to walk even more slowly than at first. + +But there was no sting in the blows this time; all the zest seemed to +have gone out of the affair; and, but for the whack the Biffer gave, +Jimmy never felt anything. The third time down was a farce, for, after +Jimmy had deliberately stopped opposite the Biffer in order to let him +have as many as his injured soul required, no one touched him. In fact +they were all shaking hands with Jimmy, who was now his smiling self +once more and ready to play with the best of them, when suddenly the +Biffer took it into his head to make a joke. + +"Perhaps he _is_ a German," said the Biffer, and waited for the general +laugh to follow his sally. + +But the laugh didn't come; instead there was a dead silence. + +Who was the Biffer--a new boy at that--to call anyone a German? +Instinctively a ring was formed and the Biffer found himself in the +middle of it. + +Jimmy took off his coat and gave it to Jones minimus, who danced for +sheer delight. + +Jimmy had only one regret: the butcher-boy was not there to see him--the +butcher-boy who had expended so much time over him, had taught him the +upper cut, the under cut, every cut that the heart of a butcher-boy +delights in. The Biffer was very busy biffing the air with a rapid +circular motion of the arms, for Jimmy's fixed scowl and set of jaw +troubled him. + +Oh, why wasn't the butcher-boy there to see that tremendous smack on the +nose the Biffer got? He would have felt amply rewarded. + +No one had ever seen Jimmy fight like this, and Jones minimus shouted in +his joy, for the Biffer was outbiffed in every direction. + +In vain did he cry "_Pax_," for Jimmy had not half relieved his +feelings, and there was no end to the dodges the butcher-boy had taught +him, each of which, he had said, meant sudden death. + +"He's had enough, Jimmy," whispered Jones minimus. "I'm satisfied," he +added as the Biffer, who was lying on the ground, refused to get up and +have any more. + +As the boys entered the class-room the next day there was the map of +Europe still hanging up in front of the class, and the very first +question that was asked by the master was, "Well, Jimmy, what is this +sea?" + +"The North Sea or British Ocean, Sir!" said Jimmy, a reply that was +greeted with a rousing cheer by the whole of Form II. + + * * * * * + +A SECOND HELPING! + + Our Bagdad force fell in a rut + At Ctesiphon; Turks made things hum. + We found that we had got to Kut, + Whilst Russians found a way to Kum! + + Our men know not the word "defeat," + They'll make it clear on Tigris plain + That, Russian-like, when they retreat, + 'Tis but to cut and come again. + + * * * * * + +A TURKISH TROPHY. + +(_A belated letter from Gallipoli._) + +My dear ----, By this week's post I trust you will receive the long +promised trophy, to wit one Turkish headpiece procured by my own +personal exertions. As the story of its capture, though somewhat out of +the ordinary, has been passed over in stony silence both by the official +_communiques_ and "Our Special Correspondent" I shall endeavour to give +you a brief impression of the difficulties overcome as truthfully as my +sense of imagination will allow me. First of all I must draw a map:-- + +[Illustration: + +A B British trench, with traverses. + +C D Turkish trench, without. + +E F Ditch + +G British barricade. + +H Turkish barricade.] + +This should give you an idea of the English and Turkish lines at a point +where they are about eighty yards apart. Without going into details you +will see the English trench is of the superior pattern, as it has +traverses. I had to work in that technical term to show I know all about +it; I know another, "the berm," but I am not too sure about what that +is, and also I don't suppose I could draw a "berm" if I saw one. Anyway, +I know it's quite a good term connected with trenches, as I heard a +G.O.C. fairly strafe a subaltern, the other day, because he hadn't got a +"berm." Well, to refer to the map, you will observe that there is an old +ditch running between the two lines of trenches, and both sides have +advanced a certain distance along this ditch and have built barricades +about ten yards apart. Every day it is part of my job to take a +constitutional along our trenches, and after discussing the European +situation and the latest Budget with the various battalion commanders to +ask them whether there is any particularly obnoxious part of the +opposition line they would like me to salute with my battery. Usually +they say, "No, there's nothing in particular, but let's have a shoot all +the same; for example, there's a dog that barks abominably every night +opposite L 57. Couldn't you abolish him?" Incidentally we no longer give +our trenches names, such as Piccadilly, Rotten Row, but mere letters and +numbers; the reason being that one of the staff was picked up in a +fainting condition, having strolled down Park Lane and then found +himself, to his horror, in Peckham High Street. The shock--his own home +being in Baling Broadway--had proved too much for his constitution. +However, to refer back to the map once more, our barricade across the +ditch is a most convenient spot for observing artillery fire and as such +is frequently used by me. Unfortunately my view was always hasty and +badly interrupted by the attentions of a Turkish sniper behind their +barricade. This man's name was Ibrahim, and he was a Constantinople +cab-driver, married, with two children, both boys. You may be surprised +that we know so much about the enemy, but we live in such close +proximity that opposite the Lancashire Fusiliers a Turk named Mahomet, +who lives at No. 3, Golden Horn Terrace, told the reporter of _The +Worpington Headlight_ that for three years he had been suffering from +pains in the back--but that's another story. Incidentally Mahomet at +present inhabits a sniper's post surrounded by a perfect thicket of +barbed-wire, and I had a bright scheme for its removal. I got hold of a +trench catapult, an ingenious contrivance of elastic that hurls a bomb +some hundreds of yards, and placed in it a harpoon attached to a long +coil of rope. The idea was that on release of the catapult the harpoon +would be hurled in the air, the rope would neatly pay out, and then, as +soon as the harpoon had grappled Mahomet, all we would have to do would +be to haul on the rope and over would come the whole bag of tricks. +Unfortunately something went wrong, and the rope, instead of neatly +uncoiling, flailed round the trench like a young anaconda, and, catching +a harmless spectator by the leg, hurled him twenty feet in the air. +Immediately the opposition lines resounded like a rifle-booth at a +country fair. However our spectator descended unpunctured, and the only +damage done was to our vanity, when Mahomet threw over a message +attached to a stone to ask whether we would repeat the performance as he +and a pal had a bet on as to who was the best shot and wanted a human +aeroplane to judge. + +But we have got a long way from Ibrahim. Ibrahim possessed the headpiece +I am sending you. I could not think of a method for obtaining it, as his +vigilance was deadly. However a bright thought struck me, and I +assiduously saved up my rum ration for a month. Then one bitter cold +night I tossed over the accumulation in a bottle wrapped up in an old +sock. Presently there resounded in the still air a pleasant bubbling +sound indicative of liquid being poured out of a glass receptacle, then +a deep sigh, followed by a profound silence. Inch by inch I crawled over +our barricade and slowly wormed my way along the ditch. At last I +reached the Turkish barricade and cautiously slid my hand over the top +until my fingers encountered Ibrahim's toque. Then I gave a gentle tug. +Horror! he had the flap down under his chin. Unmanned for a moment I +recovered, and I slowly slid my fingers down his hirsute neck and with a +gentle titillation slid the flap clear. Ibrahim merely stirred in his +sleep and resumed his slumbers. Triumphantly hugging the trophy to my +bosom I crawled back to our barricade. + +The saddest part of the tale is yet to come. I had promised to procure +you a trophy unstained by association with human slaughter, but when the +day dawned there lay poor Ibrahim stiff and stark behind his barricade, +killed by a cold in his head. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: PANTOMIME ANNOUNCEMENTS.] + + * * * * * + + "Message Boy Wanted for Butchery." + + _Brechin Advertiser._ + +A lot of people are after that boy. + + * * * * * + + "Taxi driver who laid down Fare at Royal Hotel at 2.45 p.m. on + Christmas Day, would oblige by returning Gent's Umbrella to + Hotel." + + _Aberdeen Journal._ + +We gather that it had been a wet morning. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Cyril_ (_eating his bread-and-jam--with not too much +jam_). "This is prepostrous--this war economy."] + + * * * * * + +HUNTIN' WEATHER. + + There's a dog-fox down in Lannigan's spinney + (And Lannigan's wife has hens to mourn); + The hunters stamp in their stalls an' whinny, + Soft with leisure an' fat with corn. + + The colts are pasturin', bold an' lusty, + Sleek they are with their coats aglow, + Ripe to break, but the bits grow rusty + And the saddles sit in a dusty row. + + Old O'Dwyer was here a-Monday + With a few grey gran'fathers out for a field + (Like the ghostly hunt of a dead an'-done day), + They--an' some lassies that giggled an' squealed. + + The houn's they rioted like the devil + (They ran a hare an' they killed a goose); + I cursed Caubeen, but he looked me level: + "The boys are away--so what's the use?" + + The mists lie clingin' on bog an' heather, + Haws hang red on the silver thorn; + It's huntin' weather, ay, huntin' weather, + But trumpets an' bugles have beat the horn! + + * * * * * + +A Debt of Honour. + +Mr. Punch ventures to plead on behalf of the nine hundred men of the +Royal Naval Division who were taken prisoners by the enemy in the +retirement from Antwerp. Less fortunate than those of the same Division +who were interned in Holland (for want of official information most +people imagine that all the missing were so interned), they lack the +necessities of life. Parcels of food are sent to them, fortnightly to +each man, as well as clothing and tobacco; and it is known that they +receive all that is sent. Mr. Punch begs his readers to help the fund +from which these simple comforts are provided, and to address their +gifts to Lady GWENDOLEN GUINNESS, at 11, St. James's Square, S.W. + + * * * * * + +From a report of Mr. LLOYD GEORGE'S speech:-- + + "The works of Ireland have been extremely helpful, and I am glad + to acknowledge that I have been extremely helpful." + + _Manchester Guardian._ + +On this occasion the MINISTER OF MUNITIONS appears to have allowed +himself the privilege of "thinking aloud." + + * * * * * + + "_The Daily Mail_ will not be published to-morrow, and for that + reason we seize the occasion to-day of bidding our readers a + merry Christmas,"--_Daily Mail of December 24th._ + +And a very good reason too. + + * * * * * + +Seasonable. + + "The Canadian Government has granted to Canadian troops oversea + and in training at home a Christmas allowance of one chilling." + + _Provincial Paper._ + + * * * * * + + "He much regretted that it was not possible to-day to + communicate the results of the Derby Report in any detail, or, + indeed, at all. The task had been one of stupendous bagnitude." + + _Evening Standard._ + +Yes, but how big was the bag? + + * * * * * + +Two descriptions of the new Chief of the Imperial General Staff:-- + + "Of Scottish descent, and familiarly known to the Army as + 'Jock,' he is one of the most remarkable soldiers of the time." + + _Glasgow Evening Times._ + + "That he is known throughout the whole Army simply as 'Wullie' + is a sure token that the private soldier has taken him to his + heart." + + _Glasgow Evening Citizen._ + +Won't the Germans be puzzled? + + * * * * * + + "Eddie Harvey (Fleetwood) and Ike Whitehouse (Barrow) went + through 15 rounds contest for L5 a side and a nurse, and Harvey + won on points."--_The People._ + +The stakes, we presume, were divided. + + * * * * * + + "A kid was born with monkey face and human skull at Saidapet on + the 13th instant." + + _New India._ + +This is headed "A Curious Phenomenon." But is it? Some of our +neighbours' kids are just like that. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE NEW EDGE.] + + * * * * * + +LONDON AS USUAL. + +("_Kelly's London Directory_" for 1916, a contemporary remarks, is very +much the same as the volume for 1915.) + + Where, where are the signs of the raider + Who swam to our ken like a kite, + Who swore he had played the invader + And knocked us to bits in the night; + Who pounded these parts into jelly + From Mile End, he said, to the Mall? + For the man who should know (J. J. KELLY) + Can't spot 'em at all. + + You may turn up the street that is Vigo + Or alight on the Lane that is Mark; + You may let your incredulous eye go + O'er each Crescent and Corner and Park; + You may hunt through the humblest of alleys + Or the giddiest haunts of the town, + And Kelly's, who're "safe" as the Palace, + Have got 'em all down. + + So I sing to those equals in wonder, + Of BRADSHAW (the expert on trains), + Who have torn the Hun's fiction asunder-- + That our City's a mass of remains; + Here's our proof that we're plainly not undone, + That, although every night she lies hid, + Our stolid undaunted old London + Still stands where she did. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Porter_ (_dug-out_). "Shall I put yer 'ockey-knockers in +the van, Sir?"] + + * * * * * + +STUDIES IN FRUSTRATION. + +I. + +The scene was the comfortable spacious breakfast-room in the Bishop's +Palace. His lordship sat nearest to the fire; the bishop's wife presided +over the fragrant coffee-pot, and the curate, their dine-and-sleep +guest, sat opposite the bishop and farthest from the warmth. As a curate +this position was his due. Some day he also would be a bishop, and then +he too would know what it was to intercept the glow. + +The curate was looking dubiously into the recesses of an egg. His fine +Anglican features underwent a series of contortions. + +"I am afraid," said the bishop, "that that egg is not a good one." + +"You are right, my lord," said the curate. "It is not only bad, it's +alive. I think it's the worst egg that was ever offered me." + + +II. + +The wounded soldier lay in his deck-chair placidly smoking his hundredth +cigarette that day. He was not naturally a smoker, but cigarettes +arrived in enormous numbers and something had to be done with them. + +His visitor sat beside him, note-book in hand. "Yes?" he remarked. + +"And then," said the soldier, "came the order to charge. We fixed +bayonets and rushed at the Bosches like mad. It was glorious--like the +best kind of football match." + +The visitor took it all down, and more. + +"I remember bayonetting two men," said the soldier, "and then I remember +nothing else. And that's six months ago. Still, I'm getting well, and +then there's only one thing on earth that I really want with a +passionate desire ..." + +"I know! I know!" said the visitor, moistening his pencil. + +"Never to see any more war as long as I live," the soldier continued. + + +III. + +The aged artist sat in his luxurious studio surrounded by his +masterpieces--that is, by the pictures he had never been able to sell. + +The gem of the collection stood on an easel in the middle of the room; +while a connoisseur, hat in hand, inspected it closely, +enthusiastically, breathlessly. Then, coming over to where the artist +was resting, he sat down opposite to him and in a voice trembling with +emotion asked, "Tell me, how _do_ you mix your colours?" + +There was a deep silence, almost painful in its intensity. A drawing-pin +fell with a deafening crash. + +The venerable painter stood up with a calm and leonine expression. "I +use an ivory palette knife," he said. + + +IV. + +The shadows were lengthening in the beautiful garden. It was a warm +spring evening. The old sun-dial had just struck seven. + +The poet threw aside his book and called his Airedale terrier; the dog, +responding in time, eventually reached his master's knee. + +Seizing his opportunity, the representative of the Press observed, "You +are, I see, fond of dogs." + +"Fond of dogs?" replied the poet. "I? I detest them;" and so saying he +kicked the Airedale a distance of several feet into the air, so that, +falling immediately on the sun-dial, it was transfixed by the gnomon. + +As he watched its struggles, thus impaled, the poet laughed the hearty +resonant laugh for which he was famous. + + +V. + +The Civil Service clerk so famous for his drollery was entering the +office doors at half-past ten in the morning, or exactly sixty minutes +past the appointed time. By an unfortunate chance his principal met him, +as, alas! he had too often done, at the same tardy hour. "Late again," +said the great man, consulting his watch. "I believe that you get here +later every day." "Yes," said the clerk, "I do. But then I always stay +on and work overtime." + + +VI. + +The eminent publicist replaced his glass on the table and turned to the +lady who sat beside him. "My business," he said, "is the manufacture of +mustard. I have made a vast fortune out of it." + +"How very interesting," the lady replied absently; but the next moment, +inspired by a hidden thought, she added with quickened interest, "Please +don't think me inquisitive, but how can a fortune be made out of a thing +like mustard? People take so little of it." + +"Madam," answered the mustard magnate deliberately, "we do not make our +fortunes from the mustard that people eat"-- + +"Yes, yes?" cried the lady eagerly.--"but," he continued, "from what +they spill in mixing poultices." + + +VII. + +The famous money-lender one evening arrived as usual at the Casino, but +this time only to bid his friends good-bye. + +"Not leaving Monte?" they asked. + +"Yes, I am," he replied; "I'm going to Rome." + +"Rome?" + +"Yes, why not? I'm told it's wonderful. I shall be there a month;" and +so saying he hurried to his hotel. + +Three days later he walked into the Casino again. + +"What," cried his friends--"you here? We thought you were going to be in +Rome a month." + +"So I am," said the money-lender, "and more. I came back for my things, +most of which I left here, as it had occurred to me I might not like it. +But I adore it. Rome is beautiful, august, sublime. The simple severe +beauty of the Vatican, the vast solemnity of the Campagna! It is indeed +the eternal city. Let me keep Rome!" + +And again he hurried away. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Excited individual_ (_who has picked up umbrella left in +bar, to despatch rider just leaving_). "Hi! Mister. Is this your +umbrella?"] + + * * * * * + +A Long Turn. + + "To-morrow evening Miss Phyllis Bedells makes her final + appearance at the London Empire, where she has danced without + interruption for nine and a half years." + + _Bristol Times and Mirror._ + + * * * * * + +De Mortuis.... + + "Tired of this much worn physical life Chief George Moshesh + bursted the bands of morality as under Tuesday, November 2nd." + + _South African Paper._ + + "Tenders invited for alterations and additions to the late Mr. + Waata W. Hipango, Pitiki, are hereby cancelled."--_New Zealand + Paper._ + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Neighbour._ "And how does your son like his training?" + +_Proud Mother of Recruit._ "Oh, he's very happy. But he says they do +take him very long walks."] + + * * * * * + +THE XMAS ADVENTURES OF A DRAWING. + +_From Robert Simpson, Edinburgh, to Joan Dalgleish, London._ + +_December_ 15. + +Dear Miss Dalgleish,--I send you as promised, when we parted in Skye, +one of my little drawings. I am sorry I have had no time to get it +framed. I am off in ten days to India to resume my work. If you have no +room for this little picture on your walls it will do for a Red Cross +Bazaar. + +Hoping to meet you some other summer, + +Yours sincerely, + +R. Simpson. + +_From Joan Dalgleish to Robert Simpson._ + +_London, December_ 17. + +Dear Mr. Simpson,--So many thanks for the drawing of the bay. It will +always remind me of our delightful holiday in the North, and in the +murky days of December it will make me feel again in the fresh air of +Scotland. + +With best wishes for a pleasant +journey, + +Yours sincerely, + +Joan Dalgleish. + + +_From Joan Dalgleish to Mary Morris, Manchester._ + +_December_ 23. + +Dearest Mary,--I am sending you a little Christmas card, in the shape of +a water-colour drawing with a calendar attached, which can be removed +each year. It will remind you of the fine time we spent bathing and +boating on the Welsh Coast, which I know you people in the North adore. +I have long wanted to send you some token of our days together in that +pleasant land, and, after much searching, here at last it is. + +Your affectionate Friend, + +Joan Dalgleish. + + +_From Mary Morris to Joan Dalgleish._ + +_December_ 24. + +Dearest Joan,--What a treat to see that glorious Welsh Coast, that +heaving sea and those sunny cliffs, when I am barely existing in this +gloomy city! _Always_ will this _dear_ scene be in my sight morning and +evening, to remind me of my friend whom I miss _so much_, and of those +grand aspects of nature which we enjoyed together. + +With dear love, + +Mary. + + +_From Mary Morris to Miss Eleanor Mendip, Writers' Club, London._ + +_December_ 30. + +Dear Miss Mendip,--It seems ages since we met after your _great_ visit +to Manchester and after that _splendid_ lecture on "Some Aspects of +Nature." I cannot let the New Year pass without sending you a little +picture of our Northern coast as a humble token of my _immense_ +admiration for your charming work--the poor offering of a constant +admirer. + +Hoping to see you again in our city +and that you will again stay at our +home, + +Your affectionate admirer, + +Mary Morris. + + +_From Miss Mendip to Miss Morris._ + +_January_ 2. + +Dear Miss Morris,--Forgive me for not acknowledging before the graceful +tribute of your admiration for my work. I do indeed regard you as a +friend--few girls of my acquaintance have so real a sense of literary +perfection as my dear young friend in Manchester. Always will I cherish +your appreciative gift as a remembrance of my sweet young friend. + +Yours affectionately, + +Eleanor Mendip. + + +_From Miss Mendip to the Editor, "Women's Welfare," London._ + +_January_ 4. + +Dear Mr. Scrimbles,--You said you intended to obtain an illustration to +my paper on "Cottage Homes by Western Waters." I can save you trouble +and some expense. I have succeeded in obtaining just the picture you +want. I accordingly enclose it. You can add the fee of 10s. 6d. to my +cheque for the article. I hope it will come out in February. + +Yours truly, + +Eleanor Mendip. + + * * * * * + + "WANTED. Good School-Master, in exchange for Blue Pom dog, 3 + months, splendid coat, or sell L1. Approval both ways." + + _Welsh Paper_. + +Lest our scholastic readers should be incensed at this cynical estimate +of their value we hasten to inform them that this "School-Master" is a +pigeon and not a pedagogue. + + * * * * * + +AT THE PLAY. + +"Puss in Boots." + +If Messrs. SIMS, DIX and COLLINS did in fact, as they claim, make the +book of this year's pantomime at the Lane, Mr. GEORGE GRAVES gagged and +bound it. This popular annual festival indeed tends to become more and +more of a GRAVES solo (with of course the innumerable customary _da +capos_) and a bright sketchy EVANS _obbligato_. As a Grand Duchess and +Duke respectively the genial twain present themselves. Mr. GEORGE +GRAVES, in a flounced skirt of green tartan check, copper curls and +mahogany features, is a delectable creation; says some strangely +unlady-like things (as is expected of him); is still oddly preoccupied +with "gear-boxes" and other anatomical detail; and generally indulges in +a fine careless rapture of reminiscence and improvisation--zealously +assisted by Mr. WILL EVANS' familiar tip-tilted nose and bland refusal +to be perturbed by entirely unrehearsed effects and obviously irregular +cues. A jovial and irreverent pair of potentates, crowned by public +laughter. + +There is, of course, a sort of background to all this audacious fooling, +more definitely directed _virginibus puerisque_. The new principal boy, +Mr. ERIC MARSHALL, woos his princess with a romantic air and a mellow +tenor, in which emotion somewhat overshadows tone. Miss FLORENCE +SMITHSON, an accepted Drury Lane favourite, looks very charming, makes +love in pretty kitten wise and still indulges in those queer harmonics +of hers--virtuosity rather than artistry, shall we call it?--but is +altogether quite a nice princess of pantomime. Little RENEE MAYER is the +Puss. Nothing could well be daintier. But I hope she will let me tell +her (in a whisper, so that the others won't hear), that she doesn't +_quite_ realise what a jolly part she has got. I would implore her to +spend an hour or two at serious play with any decent young cat and study +the grace and variety of its beautiful, imitable gestures. Then she will +assuredly pounce on her magician turned mouse, and fawn on her master +and friends, with a greater air of conviction. And she will mightily +please all the other nice children in the house. + +Of the great _ensemble_ scenes unquestionably the finest was the Fairy +Garden, with a quite beautiful back-cloth by R. MCCLEERY and a +bewildering (and, to tell truth, largely bewildered) bevy of +butterflies, decked by COMELLI, fluttering in a flowery pleasaunce. And +there was also a clever variation on the now inevitable staircase +_motif_ as a _finale_. But the Harlequinade of happy memory has +deplorably declined to something like a mere display of +advertisements--a sad business. + + * * * * * + +"The Starlight Express." + +It would be uncandid to pretend that Mr. ALGERNON BLACKWOOD gets +everything he has to say in _The Starlight Express_ safely across the +footlights--those fateful barriers that trap so many excellent +intentions. But he so evidently _has_ something to say, and the saying +is so gallantly attempted, that he must emphatically be credited with +something done--something rather well done really. The little play has +beautiful moments--and that is to say a great deal. + +This novelist turned playwright wishes to make you see that "the Earth's +forgotten it's a Star." In plainer words he wants to present you with a +cure for "wumbledness." People who look at the black side of things, who +think chiefly of themselves--these are the wumbled. The cure is +star-dust--which is sympathy. The treatment was discovered by the +children of a poor author in a cheap Swiss _pension_ and by +"Cousinenry," a successful business man of a quite unusual sort. You +have to get out into the cave where the starlight is stored, gather +it--with the help of the Organ Grinder, who loves all children and sings +his cheery way to the stars; and the Gardener, who makes good things +grow and plucks up all weeds; and the Lamplighter, who lights up heads +and hearts and stars impartially; and the Sweep, who sweeps away all +blacks and blues over the edge of the world, and the Dustman, with his +sack of Dream-dust that is Star-dust (or isn't it?), and so forth. Then +you sprinkle the precious stuff on people, and they become miracles of +content and unselfishness. (The fact that life isn't in the very least +like that is a thing you have just got to make yourself forget for three +hours or so.) + +The author was well served by his associates. Sir EDWARD ELGAR wove a +delightfully patterned music of mysterious import through the queer +tangle of the scenes and gave us an atmosphere loaded with the finest +star-dust. Lighting and setting were admirably contrived; and the +grouping of the little prologue scenes, where that kindly handsome giant +of an organ-grinder (Mr. CHARLES MOTT), with the superbly cut corduroys, +sang so tunefully to as sweet a flock of little maids as one could wish +to see, was particularly effective. + +Of the players I would especially commend the delicately sensitive +performance of Miss MERCIA CAMERON (a name and talent quite new to me) +as _Jane Anne_, the chief opponent of wumbledom. She was, I think, +responsible more than any other for getting some of the mystery of the +authentic Black-woodcraft across to the audience. The jolly spontaneity +of RONALD HAMMOND as young _Bimbo_ was a pleasant thing, and ELISE HALL, +concealing less successfully her careful training in the part, prettily +co-operated as his sister _Monkey_. The part of _Daddy_, the congested +author who was either "going to light the world or burst," was in O. B. +CLARENCE'S clever sympathetic hands. Mr. OWEN ROUGHWOOD gave you a sense +of his belief in the efficacy of star-dust. On what a difficult rail our +author was occasionally driving his express you may judge when he makes +this excellent but not particularly fragile British type exclaim, "I am +melting down in dew." The flippant hearer had always to be inhibiting +irreverent speculations occasioned by such speeches. + +I couldn't guess if the children in the audience liked it. I hope they +didn't feel they had been spoofed, as MAETERLINCK so basely spoofed them +in _The Blue Bird_, by offering them a grown-ups' play "sicklied o'er +with the pale cast of thought." But the bigger children gave the piece a +good welcome, and called and acclaimed the shrinking author. T. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Princess Rosabel_ ... Miss Florence Smithson. _Florian_ +... Mr. Eric Marshall. + +_Princess Rosabel_ and _Florian_, a young man--though only a miller's +son--of considerable polish, especially about the hair and feet.] + + * * * * * + + "36 Magnificent, Acclimatised, Well-bred Dairy Cows, &c. Many of + these were bred on the Premises, and others were purchased from + a renowned Breeder of Friesland Cattle, and they need no comment + from the Auctioneers, but will speak for themselves." + + _Natal Mercury._ + +Blowing their own horns, so to speak. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Irish Sergeant._ "Keep yer head down there! Don't ye +know that's the very place that Mike Rooney was shot through the fut?"] + + * * * * * + +THEY. + +Just lately I have been thinking often of Them. But Their image has +never been more vividly in my mind than now, when I sit here among the +aftermath of festival. I wonder, for example, are the homes in which +They live pervaded with this same _debris_ of Christmas (or, as They +themselves are so fond of calling it, Yuletide)? Does dismembered turkey +coldly furnish forth Their meals? Are there too many calendars, and a +litter of crumpled paper? And cards--do They send each other cards? +Stupendous thought! + +Most of all is my fancy busy with Them to-morrow, Tuesday, December the +twenty-eighth. I see Them rising, a little wearily, perhaps, and +heavy-eyed. Breakfast They snatch, and so out into the winter morning +towards that place where, unknown and unrecognised, They pursue +throughout the year Their changeless toil. I imagine Them gathering with +mutual greetings in the workroom--a little company about whose features +I have so often speculated. Poets are there, and artists; probably some +among the men may wear their hair a trifle longer than the military +fashion of to-day; but the greater part of the crowd are almost +certainly women. Now the talk dies down; presently They are all once +more bending in silence over Their appointed tasks. + +Yes, here at one desk is the artist to whose genius we owe the obese +robin perched upon a horse-shoe, or the churchyard by moonlight after +(apparently) a severe spangle-storm. Here again a poet, whose eye in a +fine frenzy rolling proclaims an inspiration, or at least some subtle +variant upon a familiar theme. He stoops and, even as I watch, has +traced swiftly, with vibrant pen, this couplet:-- + + "The old, old wish I send to thee, + Jocund may thy Xmas be!" + +Then, with a little sigh, he leans back, satisfied that for him the +holiday intermission had not rusted the fine edge of originality. +"Jocund" proved that. + +Behind him perhaps sits a maiden like Fate, who with abhorred shears +fashions strange shapes and borderings of foliage unknown to mere +nature. And further still, in yonder obscure and shadowy corner, is one +who by her art can penetrate the future and outstrip the foot of Time +himself. For see, upon her cards, there is already written-- + + "With every blessing good and true + May the New Year be packed, + And 1917 bring to you + What 1916 lacked." + +I wonder--how does their work seem to Them upon this morning after +Boxing-day? + + * * * * * + +What to do with our Boys. + + "Bun-Prover wanted, 20-25 Trays Capacity." + +_Portsmouth Evening News._ + + * * * * * + +Not from the Cocoa Press. + + "At a concert given in the sick bay, H.M.S. Crystal Palace, 34 + large boxes of chocolates were distributed among the patients. + Mr. Balfour sent a telegram wishing the men a speedy + recovery."--_The Times._ + + * * * * * + +The following advertisement appeared on Dec. 23:-- + + "Lady recommends her Companion-Hosekeeper."--_Morning Paper._ + +She was not going to risk her own Christmas stocking. + + * * * * * + + "It is no easy thing to replace an artist of the quality of Miss + Lily Elsie, who, in spite of the warmth of her reception at His + Majesty's Theatre, recently took so severe a chill that the + doctor would not hear of her playing again for some + time."--_Daily Mail._ + +The figurative has no chance with the actual. + + * * * * * + +AT THE SOURCE. + +"Oh," said Francesca, coming into the library, "I see you're busy with +your papers. Don't let me disturb you." + +"If," I said, "it depended on me I wouldn't. I'd take you at your word +and have you out of the room in two-twos. But you wouldn't like that, +now, would you?" + +"I'm afraid I should have to enter a protest. That's right, isn't it? +Protests _are_ things that have to be entered, aren't they?" + +"Yes," I said, "they're like candidates for examinations, or rooms, only +some rooms oughtn't to be entered, but are." + +"Jocose?" said Francesca. + +"No," I said; "I was thinking of Blue Beard. I daresay you remember +about him. He was a very uxorious man, you know, and most domestic. +Something of a traveller, and when"-- + +"We won't worry about Blue Beard," she said. "I think I know the +outlines of his family history." + +"Well then," I said, "why can't you leave me alone? You see I'm busy and +yet you insist on staying here and interrupting me. Do you call that +being a helpmeet?" + +"Well," she said, "I call it joining myself unto you, and that's what we +were told to do to one another in the marriage service." + +"You're wrong," I said. "I was told to do that unto you, but you were +told to submit yourself unto me and to reverence me." + +"It's all the same," she said. "All I'm doing is to help you to obey the +Prayer-Book." + +"Anyhow," I said, "you've sat down and you mean to stay here. Is that +what it comes to?" + +"It is," she said. "You're in tremendous guessing form to-day." + +"All I know," I said gloomily, "is that if my return for Income Tax +contains many mistakes it'll be your fault, not mine; and I shall take +care so to inform the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER. I shall put down in +the Exemptions and Abatements, 'Interrupted by wife. Abatement claimed, +L100.' The CHANCELLOR will understand. He's a married man himself." + +"So you're doing your Income Tax," she said dreamily. "I've often +wondered how that was done. Do you like it?" + +"No, Francesca," I said, "I do not like it. To be quite frank with you I +detest it." + +"But you're helping the War," she said. "That ought to buck you up like +anything. Every extra penny you pay is a smack in the eye for the +KAISER, so cheer up and make a good big return." + +"I will do," I said, "what is strictly fair between myself and the +Government. I can afford to be just to the CHANCELLOR, but, by Heaven, I +cannot afford to be generous. Generosity has no place in an Income Tax +return." + +"Go ahead with it then," she said. "I don't know what's stopping you." + +"You," I said, "are stopping me--you and that part of my income from +which the tax is not deducted at the source." + +"That sounds quite poetical," she said. "It runs into metre directly. +Listen:-- + + No man can well be rude or even coarse + Who has his tax deducted at the source. + +But I wish you'd tell me what it means." + +"Francesca," I said bitterly, "you are pleased to be a rhymer. You are, +in fact, rhyming while the exchequer is burning; and then you add insult +to injury by asking me the meaning of an elementary financial phrase." + +"Well, what _does_ it mean?" + +"It means," I said, "that if your money is invested in public companies +or things of that nature, then when your half-yearly dividend--You know +what a dividend is?" + +"Rather," she said. "It comes in on blue paper or pink, and you say, +'That's something to be thankful for;' and you write your name on one +half of it and you send that half to the bank, and you tear off the +other half and lose it in the next spring-cleaning. I know what a +dividend is all right." + +"Francesca," I said, "your knowledge is very wonderful. But if you +suppose that that is the whole dividend, you are much mistaken. It is +the dividend minus the tax. The company saves you trouble by deducting +the tax and pays it to the CHANCELLOR for you." + +"Bravo the company!" said Francesca. + +"And so say I. You see you never get that part of your money, so there's +no temptation to spend it--in fact you don't spend it." + +"That," she said, "sounds highly plausible." + +"Yes, but listen. Suppose you've got some little job at, say, two +hundred and fifty pounds a year"-- + +"Like the little job you were so pleased to get a few years ago." + +"Yes," I said, "more or less like that." + +"Not so honourable, of course," said Francesca. + +"No, of course not, but similar as to emoluments. Well, in that case you +get the whole amount, and you spend it in perfectly useless things and +forget all about it after you've put it down in your return; and then +suddenly some Surveyor of Taxes writes and demands Income Tax on those +two hundred and fifty pounds, actually demands something like forty +pounds. I tell you, it goes through you like a knife." + +"Haven't you any remedy?" + +"Of course I could chuck the job," I said, "or do it for nothing. Yes, I +think I'll chuck it. It'll be a lesson to them." + +"Yes," she said, "it would probably make the Government sit up--but, on +the whole, I don't think I should go so far if I were you. You see"-- + +"Go on," I said, for she was hesitating. "Let us strip ourselves of +everything at once and throw ourselves on the charity of our +neighbours." + +"Well," she said, "I'd go on for a bit. A job's a job even if it does +make you pay. You've had L210 on balance, and you ought to be thankful +to have been allowed to pay forty pounds for munitions." + +"And now," I said, "perhaps you'll let me get on with my work." + +R. C. L. + + * * * * * + +The Pull-Through: + +_Being a paraphrase of an answer in an O.T.C. examination._ + + Just one long pull, a straight strong pull--no other pull will do; + A man must never take two pulls to pull the pull-through through. + + * * * * * + +Village Amenities. + + "The hearty congregational stinging was a feature of church life + to be proud of."--_Parish Magazine._ + + * * * * * + + "WANTED.--Comfortable Home with private family for Gentleman who + is not strong in Brighton, Eastbourne, or St. Leonards." + + _The Times._ + +The poor fellow should try Bournemouth or Torquay. + + * * * * * + +GETTING EVEN. + +[Illustration: _Outraged victim of "Confidential Report" (being put to +bed prematurely_). "Please, God, Nurse _sewed_ for her soldier on +SUNDAY!"] + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._) + +If it should ever be your lot, which pray Heaven forbid, to be stranded +on the coast of Panama, seek out Miss WINIFRED JAMES as your hostess, +for she can teach you how to tolerate, and even in a way enjoy, an +existence one might have thought unendurable. She lives, I gather, some +two hundred miles or so from the Canal, in a town that is going to be +built some fine day on a site that has to be prepared by filling up a +marsh with clay and sand. In the meantime, until the day and the town +arrive, she rightly describes herself as _A Woman in the Wilderness_ +(CHAPMAN AND HALL). Civilisation is turned back to front out there, for +although such comforts as refrigerators and electric light are a matter +of course, there is still lacking to _Mrs. Henry de Jan_ and her rather +shadowy _William_ anything, for instance, in the nature of a road on +which to walk, or indeed any approach to their own verandah except, +floating on the clay, a narrow plank gangway that has to serve as a +hustling high-road for a mixed and dusky populace. Under the +circumstances she has done nobly well to arm herself with the twin +defences of cheerfulness and humour; and if the cheerfulness comes at +times near to being that of a martyr on the rack, while the fun is +perilously apt to swing from themes that are nice for a lady's wit to +others that are not so nice, and back to sheer triviality, what, in the +name of a population of sand-flies and negroes, can you expect? It is +much that so lifelike a picture of a region so desolate should be +presented on the whole with sweetness and charm, when no better material +is available than the myriad misdeeds of her coloured servants, the +antics of her puppies and an occasional reminiscence of home. + + * * * * * + +Certainly VIOLET HUNT and FORD MADOX HUEFFER have one achievement to +their credit. They have evolved an entirely new and original setting in +which to bring together a number of short stories. What is supposed to +happen is that sundry persons who did not feel exactly drawn towards bed +before 2 A.M. on those summer nights when Zeppelins were about, meet for +bridge and sandwiches and incidentally to listen to certain stories read +aloud by their author. In this way they are able to forget their +apprehensions of the gas-bags (dare I put it that they lose Count?) and +spend a pleasant series of evenings with history. For the stories in +_Zeppelin Nights_ (LANE) are all historical of a kind. Mostly they deal +with the byways of history, or rather with the emotions of ordinary +people who are just on the outer edge of historical happenings. For +example, the central figure of the first is a slave whose basket of figs +is upset by PHEIDIPPIDES running from Marathon; while the last concerns +an insignificant little anti-militarist who finds himself cheering for +the army on the outbreak of the Boer War. That is the kind of tales they +are, slight and momentary things, with no plot but plenty of atmosphere, +and in their style remarkably well done. Whether they would actually +keep the nerve-ridden oblivious of bombs for the thousand-and-one nights +that might have seen raids and didn't is a matter that need not concern +us. For my part, I liked as much as any the pages in which Miss HUNT or +Mr. HUEFFER folded up her or his manuscript and allowed the other +(whichever it was) to tell us about the very pleasant and human +audience. I had only one disappointment, but that was acute. I did want +just once for them to hear a distant bang, and see what happened. I +rather doubt whether the placid and literary charm of the tales would +have sufficed to keep them within doors had there been anything to see +outside. + + * * * * * + +"In his hot indignation his yellowish face had in places turned +blackish: literally, black streaks ran from the corners of his lips +upwards and downwards, and from the inner corners of his eyes." If you +read that sentence in a novel with Mr. EDGAR JEPSON'S name on the cover, +and found that the passage was a description of a man named _Shadrach +Penny_, would you not, as I did, settle down comfortably in your +armchair and wait with perfect confidence for the human zebra to murder +somebody in the most fascinatingly brutal manner? But he did not do +anything of the kind. I think that the fact that I was disappointed in, +and even seriously bored by, _The Man Who Came Back_ (HUTCHINSON) was +largely due to the mild, dull way in which the story developed. And yet +I think I could have forgiven the absence of lurid sensationalism if the +book had been a good book of its kind. It is not. It is so crude and +amateurish that it is difficult to believe that a professional writer +could have written it. Mr. JEPSON, like most other authors, has had the +idea of modernising the story of the Prodigal Son. He adheres to the +original story closely in one respect, for _Roland Penny's_ first meal +in his old home consists of roast veal, but he departs from it in making +_Roland_, so far from wasting his substance, amass a large fortune among +the husks and swine. I do not know how to classify _The Man Who Came +Back_. It is not a novel of incident, for nothing happens in it. It is +not a novel of character, for there is no attempt at any but the crudest +character-drawing. It is just a six-shilling novel, and I do not see +what else one can say of it. Mr. JEPSON must do one of two things. He +must either brace up and make his style less irritatingly slipshod, or +he must give us a few more murders. If we cannot have literary elegance +he must give us blood. + + * * * * * + +Lieutenant L. B. RUNDALL, of the 1st Gurkha Rifles, author of _The Ilex +of Stra-Ping_ (MACMILLAN), was not only a soldier and a sportsman, but a +writer with a most keen sense of the beauty of nature and the beauty of +words. Children should love these Himalayan sketches, for Mr. RUNDALL, +from material which in some cases was admittedly slight, could weave a +tale full of magic and charm. The story of the old brown bear in "The +Scape-goat" may not greatly stir the heart with the thrill of adventure, +but the hero has attractions that no child and no man that has not +forgotten his childhood could resist. An inconspicuous notice in the +book tells us that the author fell in action towards the close of 1914. +I salute his memory. Rich as we are to-day in authors who can write +enchantingly of birds and animals, I feel a sense of personal sorrow in +the loss of one whose work gave so fair a promise of high achievement. + + * * * * * + +When you take up _Russian Folk-Tales_ (KEGAN, PAUL), don't allow +yourself to be subdued by the deplorably learned preface of the +translator, Mr. LEONARD MAGNUS, LL.B., because it is not the proper +attitude really. Forget how little business a Bachelor of Law has to lay +his sceptical hands on such inappropriate material, and plunge into a +jolly, bewildering tangle of tales of magic and adventure, +bloodthirstiness and treachery, simple charity, _vodka_ and genial +superstition. You will be led from one to the other, puzzled but, I dare +conjecture, highly entertained. I think you may take it, too, that a +certain healthy sort of children will like to have these queer stories +read aloud. The villainies of the _Baba Yaga_, an old witch of terrific +resourcefulness, and the oddly inconsequent animal stories should make +particular appeal. But you will be hard put to it to answer the +questions which will be thrust at you; and (by the way) perhaps you will +discreetly have to leave out a phrase or two for prudence' sake. On no +account let the youngsters read the preface. I am not really quite sure +whether you ought to read it yourself. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: _Recruit._ "Aw--I say Sergeant--I'm afraid this horse is +a bit too tall for me." + +_Sergeant_ (_old school_). "Oh! And does the _colour_ suit you, Sir?"] + + * * * * * + +The Charge of the Six Hundred. + + Some three-score years or so ago six hundred gallant men + Made a charge that cost old England dear, they lost four hundred then; + To-day six hundred make a charge that costs the country dear, + But now they take four hundred each--four hundred pounds a year. + + * * * * * + + "Somebody to steal of my cabbage, cauliflower, old potato, new + potato, and a small rake and hooks, fork. Everything. Somebody + snatch on Thursday and Saturday night. Perhaps anybody to see + the steal man to take something from my garden to tell me about + that is I will reward five pounds truth, L3 for tell-tale.--Wong + Long." + + _Poverty Bay Herald._ + +Wong Long apparently differs from the accepted authorities as to the +value of hearsay evidence. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. +150, JANUARY 5, 1916*** + + +******* This file should be named 22602.txt or 22602.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/6/0/22602 + + + +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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