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diff --git a/22672-h/22672-h.htm b/22672-h/22672-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cc37977 --- /dev/null +++ b/22672-h/22672-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2832 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + + <title>Punch, January 12, 1916.</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .drama {margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .drama p {margin: 1em 0em 0em 0em;; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + .drama p.i2 {margin: 0; margin-left: 1em;} + .drama p.i4 {margin: 0; margin-left: 2em;} + .drama p.i6 {margin: 0; margin-left: 3em;} + .drama p.i8 {margin: 0; margin-left: 4em;} + .drama p.i10 {margin: 0; margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + .inline {border: none; vertical-align: middle;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + + .side { float:right; + font-size: 75%; + width: 25%; + padding-left:10px; + border-left: dashed thin; + margin-left: 10px; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: italic;} + --> + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 150, +January 12, 1916, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 150, January 12, 1916 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Owen Seaman + +Release Date: September 19, 2007 [EBook #22672] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David King, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 150.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>January 12, 1916.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" id="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span> + + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p>There is much satisfaction in the +German Army at the announcement +that iron coins to the value of ten +million marks are to be substituted for +nickel and copper. It is now hoped +that those Crosses may yet prove to be +worth something.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A resident of Honor Oak writes to +the papers to say that such was the +patriotic anxiety of people in his +neighbourhood to pay their taxes at +the earliest possible moment that he +found a long queue before the collector's +door on January 3rd and had to wait +an hour before his turn came. On +reading his letter several West-end +theatres patriotically offered the collector +the loan of their "House Full" +boards.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Prince <span class="sc">William of Wied</span>, the ex-ruler +of Albania, is at present in Serbia, +feverishly awaiting restoration to his +former dignity. The situation is not +very favourable, however, and his +German advisers have warned him to +curb his Mpretuosity.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>An American barque with a cargo of +beans for Germany has been seized and +unloaded by the Swedish authorities. +A cruel fate seems to overtake every +effort of the United States to give +Germany these necessary commodities.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Among the suspicious articles discovered +at the Bulgarian Consulate in +Salonika was a large stock of red +brassards. But the inference that they +belonged to members of the British +V.T.C., who were determined to fight +for the enemy rather than not fight at +all, is certainly premature.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Several inmates of the Swansea +workhouse, having been told that +margarine was to be served out instead +of butter, returned their portions, only +to discover that it was butter after all. +As similar incidents have occurred in +many other establishments it is suggested +that margarine should in future +be dyed scarlet or blue in order to +prevent a repetition of these embarrassing +contretemps.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Sir <span class="sc">John Simon</span>, in the debate on the +Compulsion Bill, said that the alleged +650,000 slackers were arrived at "by +subtracting two figures from one +another." Everyone must agree with +him that if that was the method employed +the result would be "negligible."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>In a tram-car in a Northern city, as +the girl-conductor went round for fares, +a "nut" tried to take a rise out of her +by asking for a ticket to "Gallipoli." +She charged him for the full length of +the tram journey, and as soon as the +tram arrived at a recruiting office she +rang the bell and said, "You change +here, Sir, for Gallipoli."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> thinks it very mean of +the British Government to turn his +Corfu palace into a hospital. His submarine +commanders are now wondering +how to shell the inmates without +damaging their master's property.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The Militant Suffragette who some +years ago damaged the Velasquez +Venus with an axe has just published +a novel, of which the hero is a plumber +who thought he was a poet. It ought to +be called "The Burst Pipe," but isn't.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Women are now employed on some +of the railways in the North. A +traveller recently had two Tommies for +fellow-passengers. They related that +they had every week to take a long +slow duty journey which was "the +limit"; but lately it had taken on +a different aspect, for "<i>now</i>," said +Tommy, "when you get too bored you +just hop out and kiss the porter."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Extract from a letter written to a +loved one from the Front:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"I received your dear little note in a sandbag. +You say that you hope the sandbag stops +a bullet. Well, to tell the truth, I hope it +don't, as I have been patching my trousers +with it." +</p></blockquote> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><span class="sc">Prince von Buelow</span>, who has been +for some time in Switzerland, has +obtained an increase in the number of +his secretaries, of whom he now has a +round dozen. Several of the poor +fellows are suffering from writer's +cramp through having to pen so many +letters explaining that the Prince is at +Lucerne purely for the sake of his +health.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/021.png"><img width="100%" src="images/021.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>Fiery Major</i> (<i>discussing delinquent Subaltern</i>). "<span class="sc">But +there—what can you expect? He's only one of those temporary +blighters</span>!"</p> +<p><i>Colonel</i> (<i>sweetly</i>). "<span class="sc">But isn't that better than being a +permanent blighter</span>?"</p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" id="page22"></a>[pg 22]</span> + +<h2>THE BATTLE OF THE PASS.</h2> + +<blockquote class="note">["This Bill was 'selling the pass.'"—<i>Sir <span class="sc">William Byles</span>, in the +House, on The Military Service Bill</i>.]</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"What though against our sacred front</p> +<p class="i2">They muster, miles on miles,</p> +<p>I am resolved to stick the brunt,"</p> +<p class="i2">Said bold <span class="sc">Horatius Byles</span>;</p> +<p>"For Liberty I'll take my stand,</p> +<p class="i2">Just like a stout Berserk,</p> +<p>And still defend with bloody brand</p> +<p class="i2">Our glorious Right to Shirk.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"We've <span class="sc">Simon</span>, worth four columns' length;</p> +<p class="i2">We've <span class="sc">Redmond</span>, doughty dog;</p> +<p><span class="sc">Thomas</span> and those twin towers of strength,</p> +<p class="i2"><span class="sc">Pringle</span> and whole-souled <span class="sc">Hogge</span>;</p> +<p>And <span class="sc">Outhwaite</span>—not our dearest foe,</p> +<p class="i2">Bulgar or Bosch or Turk,</p> +<p>Could wish to plant a ruder blow</p> +<p class="i2">For Britain's Right to Shirk.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"And, lastly, should the Tyrant storm</p> +<p class="i2">The pass for which we fight,</p> +<p>It must be o'er the riddled form</p> +<p class="i2">Of Me, the Champion Knight;</p> +<p>Meanwhile, on caitiffs who would keep</p> +<p class="i2">The pledge we bade them burke,</p> +<p>My lusty battle-cry shall leap:—</p> +<p class="i2">'God and our Right to Shirk!'"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The scrap was over. There he lay</p> +<p class="i2">Prone on the reeking grass;</p> +<p>"<span class="sc">Simon</span>," his faint lips strove to say,</p> +<p class="i2">"Somebody's sold the pass!"</p> +<p>"True," said the other; "I descry</p> +<p class="i2">The <span class="sc">Northcliffe's</span> hand at work."</p> +<p>"Farewell!" said <span class="sc">Byles</span>; "'tis sweet to die</p> +<p class="i2">For Britain's Right to Shirk!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>O.S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WORLD WARFARE OF THE BRITISH FLEET.</h2> + +<blockquote class="note"><span class="sc">What it has done in 1915.</span></blockquote> + +<blockquote class="note">(<i>With acknowledgments to Mr. <span class="sc">Archibald Hurd</span> in "The +Daily Telegraph.</i>")</blockquote> + +<p>Superiority, and again Superiority! In this one word +lies the secret of our success at sea. Yet it would be hard +to say how many careless civilians there are, taking all +things for granted, who fail to recognise that fact even +now. Not numbers nor organisation, nor men nor guns +nor ships—though these have counted for something—have +been responsible for our victory. It has been due +above all to superiority—sheer superiority.</p> + +<p>Think what would have happened if there had been any +strategic fumbling at the opening of the War! It is not +pleasant to reflect upon what might have occurred (had +not superiority stepped in) at the very outset if, for instance, +we had sent several <i>Dreadnoughts</i> to catch the +<i>Emden</i>. It was strongly suspected, mind you, that there +were German armed vessels on the trade routes. As one +merchantman after another was sunk there could no longer +be any doubt about it. What if, in panic, we had suddenly +dispersed our naval force to every part of the globe? +What then? But we didn't. What again if it had been +determined, in accordance with some fanciful scheme, to +concentrate our main striking force in the Mersey? +Germany well might have captured the initiative. But +authority was not distracted from its primary purpose. +Was its policy a success? Come, now, was it?</p> + +<p>The old year has gone. On January 4th the British +Fleet had been at war seventeen months—roughly seventy-four +weeks (anyone can count them up; there is nothing +abstruse about my statistics). In a word, it might almost +be said, with some approach to accuracy, that it has been in +the throes of the struggle for a year and a half. Very well.</p> + +<p>The German Flag has been banished from the ocean. +Not since the War began has a German battleship steamed +down the Channel—nor a battle cruiser, nor yet an +armoured cruiser, nor even a light cruiser, nor a monitor, +nor a destroyer. None of them—not one. Why is that? +Because (<i>vide supra</i>) the German Fleet has been banished +from the ocean. It still exists, but it is safely locked up +behind explosive agents (mines) and protected by submersive +factors (submarines). The German Fleet is in a zareba.</p> + +<p>Let us recall the striking words of one of Germany's +leading naval strategists, written, mark you, before the +War: "England's strength is mainly in her Fleet." I +wonder now if that is generally known.</p> + +<p>He goes on to define the duties of a fleet in the following +words:—</p> + +<ol> +<li> To avert invasion.</li> +<li> To keep the sea open for the arrival of imports;</li> +<li> And the departure of exports;</li> +<li> And for the exit of re-exports;</li> +<li> Also the entrance of re-imports.</li> +<li> To protect trade.</li> +</ol> + +<p>Has the British Fleet succeeded?</p> + +<p>The German Flag is banished from the seas. In January +1916 the German Fleet is still lurking in that zareba. +The <i>Dreadnought</i> embodied an offensive <i>in excelsis</i>, even +as the expansion of the <i>Dreadnought</i> policy embodies an +offensive <i>in extenso</i> and imposes upon the enemy a defensive +<i>in extremis</i>.</p> + +<p>It is perhaps hardly realised that the performance of the +British Navy in this War has no parallel in history. In +the past, enemy frigates always succeeded in getting out +of ports, however close the blockade. But none has broken +through this time—not a single frigate. On the other +hand enemy submarines may be said to have been more +formidable than in the Napoleonic wars.</p> + +<p>But the German Fleet is strong. I am not one of the +sort of humourists who hold it up to contempt in its inactivity. +For that matter I am not any sort of humourist. +Perhaps you have found that out. But the German High +Seas Fleet is no fit subject for joke. That it has proved +harmless is due to one thing alone—superiority.</p> + +<p>And so the War wags. All over the high seas our +merchantmen continue to inscribe their indelible furrows.</p> + +<p>And where is the German Fleet? I think I have answered +that.</p> + +<p>Here then I conclude my synopsis of the work of the +Fleet in 1915. And if it be said that it might well have +stood almost word for word as the record of the work of the +Fleet in 1914, I may reply that I sometimes wistfully +wonder if I shall have to make any alterations in the text +before it goes to press again this time next year.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bis.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Very Early Victorian.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"Handsomely carved early Victorian sideboard, been in one family +for a century."—<i>Advt. in "Horncastle News."</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p>From Mr. <span class="sc">Bonar Law's</span> speech as reported by a morning +paper:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"We were quite ready to carry on the principle of keeping a +united nation by keeping in opposition and not facetiously opposing +the Government." +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Unlike those eminent humourists, Messrs. <span class="sc">Hogge, Pringle</span>, +and <span class="sc">King</span>.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" id="page23"></a>[pg 23]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/023.png"><img width="100%" src="images/023.png" alt=""/></a><h3>THE SECOND TIME OF ASKING.</h3> +<p><span class="sc">Bosch</span> (<i>with visions of the conquest of Egypt</i>). "I +SUPPOSE HE KNOWS THE WAY THERE." <span class="sc">Camel</span> (<i>overhearing</i>). +"<i>AND</i> BACK!"</p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>[pg 25]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/025.png"><img width="100%" src="images/025.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Harassed N.C.O.</i> "<span class="sc">Call that 'presenting +arms'! If I was the King and you presented arms like that, I'd—I'd +throw my hat at you!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE PESSIPHONE.</h2> + +<p>It is weary work being a pessimist +these days, for the process of corrugating +the brow and groaning at the War +news must of necessity entail much +energy. For some time past it has +been patent to sympathetic observers +that what the pessimist to-day really +needs is a machine to do the work for +him.</p> + +<p>To meet this want the Electrophobia +Syndicate have invented the Pessiphone—a +mixture of gramophone +and pessimist—believing that he who +to-day can make two whimpers grow +where one grew before deserves well of +his country in war time. With the Pessiphone +there is now absolutely no excuse +for cheerfulness. It is the marvel of +the age, and has very fittingly been +described as worth a guinea a groan. +With one pint of petrol the Pessiphone +will disseminate more depression +throughout the household in ten +minutes than could be accomplished +in a day by thirty human pessimists.</p> + +<p>As soon as people commence to be +cheerful all you have to do is to press +the button and hold on to something. +A child can start it but nobody can +stop it. Ten minutes is all that is +sufficient to give a whole family melancholia +or creeping dyspepsia. It has +been known to be fatal at 200 yards' +range. Messrs. <span class="sc">Wilkie Bard</span> and +<i>George Graves</i> have already offered a +heavy reward for the body dead or alive +of the inventor—a fact which speaks +highly for the machine and its maker.</p> + +<p>When the instrument was first tried +on a select party of confirmed optimists +two of them rushed out of the +office and have not been heard of since, +while the others clawed savagely at +the office mat.</p> + +<p>No burglar will go near it. It will +drive away rate-collectors and poor +relations. One client has already used +it on his mother-in-law with favourable +results.</p> + +<p>The Pessiphone is fitted with a little +oil-bath, all black fittings, self-starting +lever, Stormy Arthur two-speed +gear, thus rendering it easy of change +from "Mildly Miserable" to "Devastating," +and the whole is packed complete +with accessories and delivered +carriage free to your back garden, +where it may be let loose.</p> + +<p>The following letters from grateful +pessimists—all involuntary contributions—speak +for themselves:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +<span class="sc">Gentlemen</span>,—For years I have been +troubled with ginger hair, but since +using the Pessiphone I have had the +beastly stuff turn grey. +</p></blockquote> + +<blockquote><p> +<span class="sc">Dear Sirs</span>,—I used to read <i>The +Moaning Herald</i> aloud each morning, +but I now use the Pessiphone with +more deadly effect. +</p></blockquote> + +<blockquote><p> +<span class="sc">Householder</span> writes: Please turn +the Pessiphone off at the main. None +of my family has been able to get near +the house for five days. +</p></blockquote> + +<blockquote><p> +<span class="sc">Golder's Green</span> says: The other +day the butcher's boy, cheerful as +usual, was coming up the garden path +whistling, and though it may hardly +seem credible this so affected the Pessiphone +that it actually jumped off the +table and bit the boy. +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<h3>A Change of Cure.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"The Infectious Diseases Hospital at +Colchester has been appointed to the vicarage +of Hurst Green, Etchingham, Sussex."</p> + +<p><i>Essex and Halstead Times.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<h3>From a chemist's reminiscences:—</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"In the early part of the last century the +sale of leeches was one of the most important. +Doctors bled their patients for every imaginable +ailment. To-day all that we can say of +leeches is that we just keep them."—<i>Observer</i>. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>As pets, we suppose.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>[pg 26]</span> + +<h2>RULES FOR HERO-NAILERS.</h2> + +<p>The following notice appears daily +in the <i>Wilhelmshavener Tageblatt.</i></p> + +<p>The statue to which it refers, known +as "The Trusty Look-Out," represents +a seaman in oilskins looking out over +the North Sea. The face is that of +<span class="sc">von Tirpitz.</span></p> + +<blockquote><p> +The Trusty Look-out.</p> + +<p>Nails may be driven into the statue on +week-days between 11 and 1, and on Sundays +between 10 and 5. The sale of tickets for +Nails and Shields takes place at the Treasury +of the Town Hall during office hours, and +also at the time for driving in Nails on +the spot.</p> + +<p>Further, tickets for iron Nails may be +bought in the following shops: (<i>here follows +a list of three booksellers, one general store and +six tobacco shops</i>).</p> + +<p>The prices are fixed at:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>0.50 m. for an iron Nail.</p> +<p>5.00 m. for a silver Nail.</p> +<p>10.00 m. for a small gold Nail.</p> +<p>20.00 m. for a larger gold Nail.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Anyone who buys 100, 200, 300 +or 400 marks' worth of iron Nails +receives a silver Shield with a corresponding +inscription; similarly, +a gold Shield for iron Nails to the +value of 500 and more marks. +<span class="sc">Whoever changes a 10 mark gold +piece receives an iron Nail +free.</span></p> + +<p>For the purpose of preparing +inscriptions on Shields the date on +which it is proposed to drive in +the Nails must be notified at the +Treasury three days in advance.</p> + +<p>If clubs, societies, or other collections +of people wish to drive in +their Nails in private parties they +are requested to get into touch +with the Municipal Architect, Mr. +Zopff, with a view to fixing the day +and hour, in order that no delay +may be caused by overcrowding.</p> + +<p><i>Wilhelmshaven</i>, 12<i>th December</i>, 1915.</p> + +<p>For the Municipal Council.</p> + +<p>(Signed) <span class="sc">Bartelt</span>. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Not in a spirit of carping criticism, +but as earnest admirers of German +forethought and thoroughness (<i>Gründlichkeit</i>), +we feel it our duty to point +out that there are a few contingencies +for which these otherwise admirable +regulations fail to provide, and we beg +leave to suggest to the Municipal +Council of Wilhelmshaven the following +additions:—</p> + +<p>(1) It is unpatriotic and un-German +to spend more time than necessary +in driving in nails, as standing-room, +the number of hammers and +the patience of the officials are all +limited.</p> + +<p>(2) The limit of time allowed for +driving in one nail is one minute, for +a silver nail two minutes, for a small +gold nail two and a-half minutes and +for a large gold nail three minutes.</p> + +<p>(3) If in any case the time-limit +is exceeded the Municipal nail-driver +will displace the person whose lack +of skill is responsible for the delay +and will drive home the offending +nail himself.</p> + +<p>(4) If any person offers resistance +to this procedure he or she will be +nailed to the statue by the Municipal +nail-driver as a warning to others. +A large <i>iron</i> nail will be used for this +purpose, the charge for which will +be added to the death-duties.</p> + +<p>(5) It is unpatriotic and un-German +to use bad language when driving +in nails. However, in view of +the well-known tenderness of the +human heart and the high state of +nervous tension in which many persons +of an ardent patriotic disposition +may be expected to perform this +supreme act of symbolic devotion, +those who drive in iron nails will be +allowed to swear once for each nail, +or seven times for half-a-dozen +nails, whilst a higher proportion of +swear words will be allowed for silver +and gold nails, on the progressive lines +laid down in (2).</p> + +<p>(6) Anyone exceeding the patriotic +limit of bad language will be dealt +with by the Municipal nail-driver as +in (4).</p> + +<p>(7) Classes of instruction in nail-driving +will be held in the Town-hall +daily between 10 and 11 <span class="sc">A.M.</span> (Sundays +excepted).</p> + +<p>(8) Persons who wish to be photographed +in the act of nail-driving +must give notice to the Municipal +photographer two days in advance. +The cost of the photograph will naturally +be in inverse proportion to the +value of the nail which is driven in.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/026.png"><img width="100%" src="images/026.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">"Bejabers! If you're gettin' on, I'm gettin' +off!"</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Hon. John Fellowes Wallop, of Barton +House, Morchard Bishop, brother and heir-presumptive +of the Earl of Portsmouth, entered +his 57th pear on Monday."</p> + +<p class="i10"> <i>Western Times.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We congratulate him on his digestion.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>NIGHT OPERATIONS.</h2> + +<p>"Storm or no storm," said Charles, +"as a medical man I can't stick this +fug any longer."</p> + +<p>He disappeared behind the heavy +anti-Zepp curtains and opened the window. +A piercing draught caught the +back of Bill's neck and he sat up.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said crossly, "this +is no night for a poor Special to go out +in. Can't I send a medical certificate +instead?"</p> + +<p>"You cannot," replied Charles. "I +will not be a party to such evasions."</p> + +<p>"It's pouring with rain and blowing +a gale. No Zepp ever hatched would +come over to-night."</p> + +<p>"That's not the point, Bill." Kit +unexpectedly opened one eye. "How +are Charles and I to sleep soundly in +our warm beds unless we +know you're outside, guarding +us?"</p> + +<p>"That's right," growled Bill. +"Hub it in. Your turn to-morrow, +anyway."</p> + +<p>The other two sang the +praises of bed in fervent antistrophe +till at last Bill rose with +a groan and assumed his overcoat, +badge and truncheon. He +stopped at the door.</p> + +<p>"Charles," said he, "if after +this night's work I die of +bronchial catarrh, unzepp'd, +unhonoured and unsung——"</p> + +<p>"Good night, dear old +thing," interposed Charles +sweetly. "Run away and +play, there's a good child; +Uncle's tired."</p> + +<p>He disappeared to bed.</p> + +<p>An hour later he was awakened by a +tremendous knocking at the front-door. +Resolutely turning on to his other side, +he tried to ignore it, but the fusillade +continued and swelled. Only when it +appeared likely to do permanent and +irreparable damage to the building did +he rush out on to the landing. There +he met Kit, half awake, with his eyelids +tightly gummed together.</p> + +<p>"That ass Bill," he said peevishly. +"Forgotten his latchkey most likely. +Serve him right if we left him there!"</p> + +<p>"My good man, one must sleep."</p> + +<p>Charles ran downstairs, opened the +door and indignantly confronted the +glistening figure on the steps.</p> + +<p>"It is my duty to warn you, Sir," +said William's voice in an official but +triumphant tone, "that one of your +downstairs windows has been left open. +Most dangerous. Also," he added +quickly, "that I am authorised to use +my truncheon in self-defence, and that +anything you say may be used as +evidence against you."</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span> + +<h2>UNRULY BRITANNIA.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Mr. Punch</span>,—I see that Canon +<span class="sc">Masterman</span>, in his Presidential Address +to the Members of the Teachers' Guild +of Great Britain and Ireland, delivered +yesterday week, observed that the German +teacher had been the servant of +the State; his function had been to +foster love for the Fatherland. But, +he continued, "that love was degraded +by jealousy, distrust and arrogance. +The spirit that breathed through our +'Rule, Britannia!' was corrected in our +national life by our sense of humour +and self-criticism." How true and how +necessary! It is indeed surprising to +me that no one has said it before. Why +should we dwell on the greatness of +our sea-power and proclaim our resolve +not to be slaves? I have always understood, +in spite of the view of Sir <span class="sc">Henry +Newbolt</span>, that <span class="sc">Drake</span> was nothing more +than a buccaneer. The public utterance +of such sentiments is surely prejudicial +to "moral uplift," and, in the memorable +words of <i>Mr. Pecksniff</i>, is "Pagan, +I regret to say."</p> + +<p>It seems to me that the time has now +come when, in the interests of reticence +and humanity, a serious attempt should +be made to revise our so-called patriotic +songs, and, though fully conscious +of my own literary shortcomings, I +cannot refrain from suggesting, by the +following examples, the lines on which +such revision might be profitably carried +out. For instance, the refrain of +"Rule, Britannia!" would be shorn of +its thrasonical quality and rendered +suitable for use in elementary schools +if it took the following form:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Curb, Britannia, Britannia curb thy pride;</p> +<p>True Britons never, never, never <span class="sc">put on side</span>."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Another song which clamours for +drastic revision is "The British Grenadiers." +I cannot help thinking that it +would be greatly improved if it were +remodelled thus:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Some talk of <span class="sc">Alexander</span>, and some of <span class="sc">Hercules</span>,</p> +<p>Of <span class="sc">Hector</span> and <span class="sc">Lysander</span>, and warriors such as these;</p> +<p>But infinitely greater than the stroke of any sword</p> +<p>Is the pow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow-wow of <span class="sc">Wilson</span> and of <span class="sc">Ford</span>."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>There are many other standard songs +and poems which could be dealt with +in similar salutary fashion, but I am +content to leave the task to others, and +will content myself with the following +original lines, which, whatever may +be said of their form, have, at any rate, +the root of the matter in them:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"The men who made our Empire great</p> +<p class="i2">Have long ago received their meed;</p> +<p>Then why the tale reiterate?</p> +<p class="i2">Self-criticism now we need.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then, O my brethren, lest you stumble</p> +<p class="i2">Look carefully before you leap;</p> +<p>Be modest, moderate and 'umble—</p> +<p class="i2">Like the immortal Mr. Heep."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Once more and in conclusion:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Let us be humorous, but never swankful—</p> +<p class="i2">Swank mars the finer fibres of the soul—</p> +<p>For what we have achieved devoutly thankful,</p> +<p class="i2">But disinclined our prowess to extol;</p> +<p>And, when our foemen bang the drum and bump it,</p> +<p class="i2">In silence be our disapproval shown;</p> +<p>'Tis nobler far to blow another's trumpet</p> +<p class="i2">Than to perform fantasias on your own."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>I am, dear Mr. Punch,</p> + +<p>Yours earnestly,</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Chadley Bandman</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/027.png"><img width="100%" src="images/027.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Doctor</i> (<i>to would-be recruit, whipper-in to the +Blankshires</i>). "<span class="sc">Sorry I can't pass you, my man. You've got an +enlarged heart</span>."</p> +<p><i>Recruit.</i> "<span class="sc">Squire always says as you couldn't have too big an +'eart to ride over a country on war-time 'osses</span>."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Our Experts.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"There are still three gaps in the trunk line +through Asia Minor to Baghdad, but these will +be filled in during the course of next year, and +unless we can reach the city before the Germans, +they will certainly reach it before us."</p> + +<p><i>Truth</i>. +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"One of Mr. Copeland's ancestors, Sir John +Copeland, who captured David, King of Scotland, +with 40,000 troops at the battle of +Neville's Cross, after lodging the latter in +Carlisle Castle, proceeded to France, to report +the event to the King, who knighted him at +Calais and conferred on him the Barony of +Kendal."—<i>Carlisle Journal.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>In these days he would have been fined +for overcrowding.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span> + +<h2>JOURNALISTIC ENTERPRISE.</h2> + +<p>Once upon a time a rash man, wishing +who knows for what?—possibly +a peerage, possibly to be relieved of +superfluous cash and so no longer have +to pay super-tax, possibly for the mere +joy of pulling wires—decided to start a +newspaper.</p> + +<p>After much consultation the plans +were complete in every particular save +one. The premises were taken, the +staff appointed, the paper, ink and so +forth contracted for, the office girls and +lift girls were engaged, the usual gifted +and briefless barrister was installed +as editor, and the necessary Cabinet +Minister willing to reveal secrets was +obtained. Everything, in short, that a +successful newspaper at the present +time could possibly require was ready, +when it was suddenly remembered that +no provision had been made for a daily +supply of pictures. A popular paper +without pictures being such a crazy +anomaly, a pictorial editor was instantly +advertised for.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the editor to the applicant +for the post, "give me an idea of +your originality and resource in the +choice of topical photographs."</p> + +<p>"I think you can rely on me to be +original," said the young man, "and +not only original but revolutionary. I +have thought about it all a lot, and I +have made some discoveries. My +notion is that the public wants to be +'in' all that is happening. Nothing's +beneath their notice; their eyes want +food to feast on all the time."</p> + +<p>"Go on," said the editor; "you +interest me strangely."</p> + +<p>"The function of the camera, as I +conceive it," the young man explained, +"is to serve as the handmaid of the +fountain-pen. Together they are terrific—a +combination beyond resistance. +That perhaps is the chief of the inspirations +which much pondering +has brought me. One must always be +fortifying the other. People not only +want to read of a thing, they come to +see it, and very rightly. Here is an +example. We are gradually getting +shorter and shorter of messengers, so +much so that many shopkeepers no +longer are able to send purchases home. +That means that people must carry +them themselves. Now what more +interesting, valuable or timely picture +could you have than a photograph of +a customer carrying, say, a loaf of +bread—a picture of the unfortunate +victim of the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> in the very act of +having to do something for himself? +How that brings it home to us!"</p> + +<p>"By Jove, yes," said the editor, +deeply impressed.</p> + +<p>"I could arrange for someone to be +taken just leaving the shop," the applicant +went on; "and I would put underneath +something about the straits to +which the War has brought shoppers."</p> + +<p>"Capital!" said the editor. "Go +on."</p> + +<p>"Then I have noticed," said the +youth, "that people are interested in +photographs of musical-comedy and +revue actresses."</p> + +<p>"I believe you may be right," the +editor remarked pensively.</p> + +<p>"So I would arrange for a steady +series of these ladies, which not only +would delight the public but might be +profitable to the advertisement revenue +of the paper if properly managed; for +I should state what plays they were +in, and where."</p> + +<p>"A great idea," said the editor.</p> + +<p>"But I should not," the young man +continued, "merely give that information +beneath. I should add something +topical, such as 'who has just received +an admiring letter from a stranger at +the Front'; 'who spends her spare time +knitting for our brave lads'; 'whose +latest song is whistled in trench and +camp'; 'who confesses to a great admiration +for Khaki,' and so on. In this +way you get a War interest, and every +one is the better for looking at some +pictures. Nothing is so elevating as +the constant spectacle of young women +with insufficient noses."</p> + +<p>"Marvellous!" exclaimed the editor. +"But what of the War itself?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, I was coming to that," +the young man went on. "I have a +strong conviction—I may be wrong, +but I think not—that war-pictures are +popular, and I have noticed that one +soldier astonishingly resembles another. +This is a priceless discovery, as I will +show. I would therefore get all the +groups of soldiers that I could take in +open country wherever it was most +convenient to my operator, and I would +label them according to recent events. +For example, I would call one group—and +understand that they would all +have non-committal backgrounds—'A +wayside chat near Salonica'; another, +'A Tommy narrating the story of his +escape from a Jack Johnson'; a third, +'A hurried lunch somewhere in France'; +a fourth, 'How the new group of Lord +<span class="sc">Derby's</span> men will look after a few +weeks'; a fifth, 'Our brave lads leaving +Flanders on short leave'; and so +on."</p> + +<p>"But you are a genius!" exclaimed +the editor, surprised into enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"As for the rest of the pictures," said +the applicant, "I have perhaps peculiar +views, but I hold that they ought to be +photographs of Members of Parliament +walking to or from the House of Commons, +a profoundly interesting phase +of modern life too little touched upon; +photographs of the <i>fiancées</i> of soldiers, +of whom it does not matter if no +one had ever heard before, engagements +being of the highest importance, +especially at a time when marriage is a +state duty. So much for the staple of +the picture-page, which I trust you do +not consider too daring."</p> + +<p>"Daring, perhaps," said the editor, +"but not excessively so, and one must +be both nowadays. One must innovate."</p> + +<p>"And then," pursued the youth, "for +padding—though padding of course +only to the experts, not to the great +hungry asinine public—anything can +be rendered serviceable provided that +the words beneath are adroit enough. +Thus, a view of Westminster Abbey +would be 'The architectural jewel of +England which the Zeppelins have in +vain tried to bomb'; a view of Victoria +Station, 'The terminus at which every +day and night, thousands of homing +Tommies are welcomed'; any picture +of a dog or cat or canary or parrot +would bear a legend to the effect that +all our brave lads love pets and are +never so happy as when accompanied +by a favourite animal; while any +maritime scene would be certainly +related to a recent submarine outrage, +the Almighty in His infinite wisdom +and prevision having made all expanses +of ocean look alike."</p> + +<p>"You are certainly," said the editor, +"a very original and enterprising young +man and I have great pleasure in +engaging you to enrich our sheet."</p> + +<p>But when the paper came out the +picture page was found to differ in no +single respect from the other picture +pages in the other dailies.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>LITERARY REPRISALS.</h2> + +<p>Nearly three years ago Mr. E. C. +<span class="sc">Bentley</span> wrote an excellent detective +story called <i>Trent's Last Case</i>. We +now see amongst the latest literary +announcements, <i>Bentley's Conscience</i>, +by <span class="sc">Paul Trent</span>.</p> + +<p>This retaliation prepares us for a +whole series of recriminatory works of +fiction. Among those shortly to be +expected are the following:—</p> + +<p><i>The Delusions of Doyle</i>, by <span class="sc">Anthony +Hope</span>, and <i>Hope's Hallucinations</i>, by +<span class="sc">Conan Doyle</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Hewlett's Downfall</i>, by <span class="sc">G. K. Chesterton</span>, +and <i>Chesterton's Catastrophe</i>, +by <span class="sc">Maurice Hewlett</span>.</p> + +<p><i>The Curse of Cain</i>, by <span class="sc">Marie Corelli</span>, +and <i>Marie the Malevolent</i>, by <span class="sc">Hall +Caine</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Dexter Street</i>, by <span class="sc">Compton MacKenzie</span>, +and <i>The Meanderings of MacKenzie</i>, +by <span class="sc">G. S. Street</span>.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>[pg 29]</span> + + +<h3>AN OLD-FASHIONED PLAYGOER VISITS A MODERN REVUE.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/029a.png"><img width="100%" src="images/029a.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">"Aha! Best seat in the house. Third row of stalls—next +to gangway. I'm going to enjoy myself."</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/029b.png"><img width="100%" src="images/029b.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Act I. Scene I.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/029c.png"><img width="100%" src="images/029c.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Scene II.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/029d.png"><img width="100%" src="images/029d.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Scene III.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/029e.png"><img width="100%" src="images/029e.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Act II. Scene I.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/029f.png"><img width="100%" src="images/029f.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">"I say—do you think you could change my stall for a +quiet chair on the stage?"</span></p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>[pg 30]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/030.png"><img width="100%" src="images/030.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>First Clubwoman.</i> "<span class="sc">I noticed you talking to +that old bore. Did she get on to her ailments?"</span></p> + +<p><i>Second Clubwoman.</i> "<span class="sc">Yes. You might almost call it an organ +recital.</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A TALE OF HEADS.</h2> + +<p>After nine o'clock parade on that +memorable morning the Sergeant-Major +spoke to this effect: Though he, the +Sergeant-Major, was new to the unit, +he could and would make it plain that +It Would Not Do. Had he taken up +his duties in a dashed glee club or in +a blanked choral society, he wanted +to know? Though he had tried hard +not to, he had been forced to admit +that It was d——d disgraceful. He +had never, he reflected aloud, seen anything +like it during an active army +existence that had provided many +shocking sights. And he opined that +there would be fatigues and C.B.s and +court-martials and shootings-at-dawn +if It continued. He was good, even for +a Sergeant-Major.</p> + +<p>The trouble was the hairs of the +heads of the unit. And though he had +rightly got the unit by the hairs which +should have been short we felt it to be +exceeding the limit on his part to refer +to us as blanked musicians. Moreover, +the band were most annoyed +about it.</p> + +<p>The Sergeant-Major paused to reflect, +and to arrange matters with what he +imagined was a sense of justice.</p> + +<p>Though, he continued bitterly, we +<i>were</i> more like a Spillikins Circle than +an Army unit, he would, from sheer +native kindness of heart, save us the +imminent gibbet or the burial by a +trench-digging party which awaited us. +He would merely illustrate our manifold +faults by taking the case of No. 3 +in the rear rank.</p> + +<p>"Please, Sir——" This from the +outraged No. 3.</p> + +<p>Silence must be observed. There +was no excuse for the state of No. 3's +hair. Here in camp (coldly), though +we <i>were</i> five miles from a town, we +had a barber, and by all report, though +he had been there but two days, an +excellent barber. No. 3, rear rank, did +not appear to know this.</p> + +<p>"Sir——"</p> + +<p>Silence in the ranks. Not only was +the living presence of a most valuable +functionary stultified by No. 3, but he, +like all his slack kind, must babble on +parade. He, the S.-M., would do all +the talking necessary. But even if +No. 3 thought he <i>was</i> back in his local +Debating Society even then he need +not wear his hair long. The others +might look at him to see what an unclipped +man could come to, and afterwards +show him the Barber's Tent.</p> + +<p>A ripple went along the ranks, and +No. 3's arms shot up despairingly.</p> + +<p>There need be no demonstration, and +No. 3 should remember that he was on +parade and furthermore was standing +at attention. He had had no orders to +practise semaphore signalling.</p> + +<p>Well, perhaps (grudgingly) he had +now given the unit some faint inkling +of his feelings on the matter. If at any +time in the future a long hair was found +on a man in his unit, etc., etc. (eleven +minutes).</p> + +<p>He would now condescend to hear +any excuse that No. 3, rear rank, had +to offer, so that he would be able to +remark upon its utter worthlessness. +Now, No. 3.</p> + +<p>"Please, Sir," viciously, "I'm the +barber."</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"For fifteen years, he [Sir William Osler] +said, the slowly evolving, sprightly race of +boys should dwell in a Garden of Eden, such +as that depicted by the poet.</p> + +<p>During this decisive period a boy was an +irresponsible, yet responsible creature, a mental +and moral comedian taking the colour of +his environment."—<i>Daily Mirror.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We fancy that Sir <span class="sc">William</span> really said +"chameleon," but most schoolmasters +will think that the other word is just +as good.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>[pg 31]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/031.png"><img width="100%" src="images/031.png" alt=""/></a><h3>THE CRACK OF DOOM.</h3></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>[pg 33]</span> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">(Extracted from the Diary of Toby, M.P.)</span></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/033a.png"><img width="100%" src="images/033a.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Paddy.</i> "<span class="sc">I'll not have conscription</span>.</p> +<p><i>Premier.</i> "<span class="sc">That's all right. You're left out of it."</span></p> +<p><i>Paddy.</i> "<span class="sc">Is it lave me out of it? Another injustice to th' +ould Counthry</span>!"</p></div> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Tuesday, January +4th.</i>—This is the <span class="sc">Pertinacious +Pringle's</span> day. True it is also, to a +certain extent, the Empire's. A Session +opening in 1914 has entered upon a +third year. After briefest Christmas +recess Members called back to work. +They come in numbers that crowd +benches on both sides. Atmosphere +electrical with that sense of great happenings +that upon occasion possesses +it. Understood that Cabinet have resolved +to recommend adoption of principle +of compulsory military service. +Rumours abroad of consequent resignations +from Cabinet. To-morrow <span class="sc">Prime +Minister</span> will deal with these matters. +Sufficient for to-day is urgent business +of amending Munitions of War Bill in +order to meet Labour objections.</p> + +<p>In such grave circumstances reasonable +to expect that private Members, +howsoever fussy by nature, would restrain +themselves and permit public +business to go forward. Member for +North-West Lanarkshire does not take +that view of his duty. Here is a day +on which eyes of nation are with exceptional +intensity and anxiety fixed on +House of Commons. What an opportunity +for <span class="sc">Pringle</span>-prangling! So at +it he went, kept it up not only, through +Question Hour but, by interruptions of +<span class="sc">Minister of Munitions</span> when speaking +during successive stages of Amending +Bill, by questions in Committee, by +acrimonious speeches on Report Stage +and Third Reading, he hushed <span class="sc">Hogge</span>, +snowed-up <span class="sc">Snowden</span>, ousted <span class="sc">Outhwaite</span>, +and dammed the flow of +<span class="sc">Dalziel's</span> discourse.</p> + +<p>In spite of this, which, in addition +to major objections, wasted something +like two hours, work got through a +little before ten o'clock.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Munitions Amendment +Bill, recommitted for insertion of +now clause, passed through remaining +stages. Read a third time amidst +general cheers.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:40%;"><a href="images/033b.png"><img width="100%" src="images/033b.png" alt=""/></a><p>THE PERTINACIOUS PRINGLE</p></div> + +<p><i>Wednesday.</i>—When shortly after +three o'clock this afternoon the <span class="sc">Prime +Minister</span> asked leave to introduce Bill +delicately described as designed "to +make provision with respect to military +service in connection with the present +War" he was greeted by hearty cheer +from audience that packed the Chamber +from floor to topmost row of benches +in Strangers' Gallery. Members who +had not reserved a seat filled the side +Galleries and overflowed in a group +thronging the Bar.</p> + +<p>Since the War began we have from +time to time had crowded Houses +awaiting momentous announcement +from <span class="sc">Premier</span>. A distinction of to-day's +gathering is the considerable +proportion of Members in khaki. The +whip summoning attendance had +sounded as far as the trenches in +Flanders, bringing home numbers more +than sufficient to "make a House" of +themselves. Among them was General +<span class="sc">Seely</span>, who contributed to debate one +of its most effective speeches. He met +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>[pg 34]</span> +with friendly reception even from that +part of the House not similarly disposed +when he was accustomed to +address it from Treasury Bench.</p> + +<p>The <span class="sc">ex-Home Secretary</span>, rising to +state the conscientious reasons that +compelled the sacrifice of high Ministerial +office, also had warm reception +from all the Benches. General regret +that he will, for the present at least, +resume the status of private Member +after a Ministerial career as brilliant as +it was brief.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Bill requiring military +service for unattested single men +and childless widowers of military +age introduced by <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span>. +Blandly explained that it is not necessarily +compulsory. If this class of +citizen who has hitherto held back +now likes to come forward and enlist +he may do so under the Group system, +which will be reopened for that purpose. +What could be more thoughtful—or +obliging?</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—By comparison with +yesterday's crowded attendance and +buzzing excitement, through greater +part of to-day's sitting Benches only +moderately full, and general conditions +otherwise normal. Members who objected +to carrying debate over second +day felt themselves justified. Two +speeches made it worth while to extend +debate—one delivered from below Gangway +by <span class="sc">Long John Ward</span> of Stoke-on-Trent, +now a full-blown Colonel. +Hurried over from the Front to defend +and vote for Compulsion Bill, although +heretofore a strong opponent of conscription. +Animated manly speech, +much cheered from all quarters.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span>, who, moving from +modest place habitually occupied towards +lower end of Treasury Bench, +seated himself next the <span class="sc">Premier</span>, +thence shortly after ten o'clock rose +and delivered a speech which recalled +his greatest triumphs achieved in former +days when in different circumstances +he stood by same historic brass-bound +box which <span class="sc">Dizzy</span> in his day +clutched and <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> thumped.</p> + +<p>As he resumed his seat amidst storm +of cheering, <span class="sc">Speaker</span> put the Question +for leave to introduce the Bill. A +mighty shout of "Ay!" responded, +answered by futile cry of "No!"</p> + +<p>"Agreed! agreed!" cried the peace-makers. +But the minority were out +for a division and insisted on taking it. +Resulted in leave being given by majority +of four to one, a conclusion hailed +with renewed outburst of cheering.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Leave given by 403 +votes against 105. <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> +brought in Military Service Bill.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/034.png"><img width="100%" src="images/034.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><span class="sc">"Want to do your bit, my lad?"</span></p> +<p><span class="sc">"Of c-c-c-c-c-c-c-course I d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-do."</span></p> +<p><span class="sc">"Then take my advice and join the machine-gun section."</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The holder of an Exchequer Bond for +£100 will receive £100 on December 1st, 1910, +and will in the meantime receive £5 per +annum in interest."—<i>Evening Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>The new security seems to have a +brilliant future behind it.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The bride, who was given away by her +father, wore a dress of pale bridegroom. She +was attended by the hat, and carried a bouquet, +the gift of the pink taffeta silk and a large dark +blue bridegroom's two little nieces."</p> + +<p><i>Kentish Mercury.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>What colour was the bridegroom?</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The last paragraph in Mr. A. F. Dunnett's +letter, appearing in our issue of the 14th inst., +contained an obvious error. 'Nathan's vineyard' +should, of course, have been 'Nabob's +vineyard.'"</p> + +<p><i>Daily Gleaner (Kingston, Jamaica).</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Of course—where the pickles grow.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Sergeant Capes saw the fowls in a crater +on Castle-hill. On the crater being opened +two of them were almost dead, and others +were exhausted, and could scarcely stand."</p> + +<p><i>Nottingham Evening Post.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>No doubt overcome by the gas.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>[pg 35]</span> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/035.png"><img width="100%" src="images/035.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Tradesman.</i> "<span class="sc">Are you insuring against Zeppelins +for the New Year?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Householder.</i> "<span class="sc">Well, I'm thinking of it, as I remember reading +in the last raid how they dropped seventeen bombs in one area. I wonder +they don't get hit, standing still all that time in the air.</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE SORROWFUL SNIPER.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I'm un'appy, so I am. Don't enjoy me beef nor jam,</p> +<p class="i2">An' I'm grumpy an' as 'umpy as a camel.</p> +<p>Bin an' stopped my leave? Oh no! <i>That</i> was fixed up long ago;</p> +<p>But the trouble is, I've got it, an' I feel afeared to go,</p> +<p class="i2">An' it's all alonger tin o' green enamel.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Fancy spendin' New Year's Eve, when you oughter be on leave,</p> +<p class="i2">In a dugout where the damp is slowly tricklin',</p> +<p>All alonger tin o' green an' a sniper lank an' lean</p> +<p>'Oo was swearin' an' a-strafin' an' a-snipin' in between,</p> +<p class="i2">Till the Sergeant told me off to stop 'is ticklin'.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So I trimmed meself with straw, an' a grass an' hay coffyure,</p> +<p class="i2">An' I clothed meself with faggots that a pal 'ad;</p> +<p>Then the Sergeant got a brush an' some green an' sticky slush,</p> +<p>An' 'e plastered me all over till I couldn't raise a blush,</p> +<p class="i2">And I looked jest like a vegetable salad.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then I crept out in the night, an' I waited for the light,</p> +<p class="i2">But the sniper saw me fust an' scored an inner.</p> +<p>I could 'ear the twigs divide, but I signalled 'im a "wide,"</p> +<p>Then I squinted down me barrel, an' I let me finger glide,</p> +<p class="i2">An' I pipped 'im where 'e uster put 'is dinner.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Yus, I busted up the Bosch, but I found out, at the wash,</p> +<p class="i2">That enamel was a fast an' lastin' colour,</p> +<p>An' the soap I used to clean made me shine a brighter green;</p> +<p>I'm a cabbage, I'm a lettuce, I'm a walkin' kidney bean,</p> +<p class="i2">An' I ain't a-leavin' Flanders till it's duller.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Good News for Taxpayers.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"Income-tax can be paid in the case of individuals and firms who +are liable to direct assessment in respect of trade, profession, or husbandry, +in two halfpenny instalments—the first on January 1, and +the second on July 1."—<i>Glasgow Evening Times.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Lucky Scots, to get off with twa bawbees!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>From an advertisement;—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"——'s Mustard Digests the Dish." +</p></blockquote> + +<p>And so saves washing-up.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Strive to acquire now ideas. Vary the hour of rising. If you +take luncheon out never go always to the same place."—<i>Daily Mail.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We seldom go always to the "Blue Lion," and usually never +by the same way every time, for fear of hardly ever being +unable to get out of the habit of it.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<i>The Westminster Gazette</i>," writes a correspondent from +Venice, "has always been regarded by the Italian Press as +the most insular of English newspapers." Still we think +that <i>La Difesa</i>, of which he encloses an extract, goes too +far in referring to our esteemed contemporary as <i>La West-Monstergazette</i>.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>[pg 36]</span> + +<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2> + +<p>"<span class="sc">The Basker</span>."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:30%;"><a href="images/036a.png"><img width="100%" src="images/036a.png" alt=""/></a><p>Miss <span class="sc">Hilda Moore</span> as <i>Mrs. Radford</i>.</p></div> + +<p>I imagine <i>The Basker</i> to be designed +by "<span class="sc">Clifford Mills</span>" as a +Tract against Dukes. And certainly +her <i>Duke of Cheviot</i> is a miracle of +obtuseness, who, if he had not been +made a hero by his valet (an original +and happy creation), would have grievously +belied the proud old family motto, +"<i>Je me sauvegarde</i>." <i>George de Lacorfe</i>, +fashionable, <i>fainéant</i> and forty, reader +of <i>The Pink 'Un</i>, ardent bachelor, +<i>Basker</i> in short, suddenly finds the +dukedom of Cheviot thrust upon him. +Quite unlike his egregious ancestors, +who went out and biffed their enemies +in the gate, especially the <i>Gorndykes</i>, +who were an unpleasant shifty kind of +raiders, <i>George</i> proposes to resign all +the Cheviot places, emoluments and +responsibilities to his cousin and heir, +<i>Richard de Lacorfe</i>, on the day the +said <i>Richard</i> shall marry. Now <i>Richard</i> +is a <i>de Lacorfe</i> with the hereditary +<i>Gorndyke</i> blood and nose acquired on +the distaff side. This conspicuous organ +inflames the anger of <i>George's</i> grandmother, +the dowager, steeped as she is +in the history and prejudices of the +family, while other members of the +august circle harbour unkind thoughts +about their kinsman.</p> + +<p>And well they might. If anyone had +"wrong 'un" written all over him it +was <i>Richard</i>. Indeed his Roman nose +was the straightest part of him. +The guileless <i>George</i> who, though +(or because) his grandmother presented +him every birthday after +his majority with a copy of <i>The +History of the de Lacorfes</i>, knew +and cared nothing about their +glorious and stormy past, didn't +suspect the <i>Gorndyke</i> rat in the +<i>de Lacorfe</i> granary. Spendthrift +<i>Richard</i>, who is always getting +urgent blue envelopes from +<i>Samuel & Samuel</i>, is bent on +marrying for money the very +<i>Diana</i> that <i>George</i> loves for her +blue hyacinth eyes. There is a +misunderstanding between <i>George</i> +and <i>Diana</i> (of such a childlike +ingenuousness as to suggest that +really this too easy spot-stroke +should be barred to playwrights), +and the idiotic girl promptly engages +herself to <i>Richard</i>, who is +of course in love with a patently +naughty married woman. The +most reckless of lovers from the +moment when in his ardour he +(apparently) bites this lady's +hand in the First Act, in full +view of the family, till he plans a +flirtation by the Cheviot +postern gate on the very eve of +his marriage to <i>Diana</i>, he is an obviously +doomed villain. The lady is surprised +by <i>George</i> in the act of knocking +thrice on the said postern within. +When three knocks are heard without +together with the voice of <i>Richard</i>, the +<i>Duke</i> really begins to suspect something. +Virtuous imbecility prevails over +villainous stupidity. The final blow is +dealt upon the <i>Gorndyke</i> nose. <i>Diana</i> +is retrieved by this last of the safe-guarders, +and we are left to a melancholy +calculation as to what the mental +capacity of their issue is likely to be.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/036b.png"><img width="100%" src="images/036b.png" alt=""/></a><p>THE SOUL'S AWAKENING.</p> +<p><i>Nalet</i>, the valet (Mr. <span class="sc">Leon Quartermaine</span>), having been +dismissed for not calling <i>George de Lacorfe</i> (Sir <span class="sc">George +Alexander</span>) in the morning, makes good by waking his +master's soul up at one o'clock at night.</p></div> + +<p>A good deal of spontaneous and +honest laughter, the best of testimonials, +greeted this rather ingenuous +extravaganza. I think Mrs. <span class="sc">Clifford +Mills</span> would do well not to prolong +her mystifications beyond the point +when they are quite clear to her +audience. May I without boastfulness +record that I guessed all about what +<i>Richard</i> was going to do with the tiara +quite three minutes before a well-known +editor in front of me gave away the +secret in a hoarse whisper to his neighbour? +And that was some time before +the author had finished the "preparation" +of the business. And may I ask +why <i>Richard</i> was forced to so fatuous +a contrivance as the pawning of the +tiara to make the exigent <i>Samuels</i> stay +their hands for a week? True he +couldn't tell them about the Cheviot deal, +which was a secret between himself and +<i>George</i>; but he could surely have used +the fact of his coming marriage with +<i>Diana's</i> money? And why didn't +<i>Diana</i> write to her mother and ask her +what was the solemn warning about +<i>Richard</i> that she had on the tip of her +tongue when she was interrupted just +before going abroad? There <i>is</i> a mail +to Singapore, isn't there? And does a +<i>George</i>, succeeding to a dukedom, become +"<i>Cheviot</i>" to his sister?</p> + +<p>Sir <span class="sc">George Alexander</span> was at his +excellent best in the lighter moods of +the <i>Basker</i>. But I did not like +to see him in pain (especially as +it all seemed so unnecessary). +Mr. <span class="sc">Leon Quartermaine</span>, in the +really engaging part of the <i>Duke's</i> +valet, who learned to think for +himself and read to such excellent +effect the history so carelessly +neglected by his master, was +quite admirable. But then he +always is. Mr. <span class="sc">Norman Forbes</span> +had little to exercise his powers +in a churchwarden version of the +stage-parson with a tiresome +wife. Miss <span class="sc">Hilda Moore</span> looked +charmingly wicked and acted +with intelligence. The too serious +<i>rôle</i> tossed lightly by the author +into the broadest farce presents +an impossible problem. Miss +<span class="sc">Ellen O'Malley</span> never mishandles +a part. Sometimes, as +here, a part is not too kind to her. +As <i>George's</i> sister she could be +no more than a competent peg. +Miss <span class="sc">Marie Hemingway</span> had +merely to look perplexed and +pretty, which she did with complete +success. Everyone was +frankly delighted to welcome back +to the stage that great artist Miss +<span class="sc">Genevieve Ward</span> as the <i>Dowager Duchess</i>. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>[pg 37]</span> +She had the sort of reception +that is only accorded to favourites of +much more than common merit. And +she played with decision, humour and +resource. Sir <span class="sc">George</span> made a happy +and generous little speech about her. +The author was called to receive the +felicitations of a gratified house.</p> + +<p>T.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>A Grand Concert is to be given at +the Kingsway Hall by the Independent +Music Club, on January 18th, at 2.30, +in aid of Mr. <span class="sc">C. Arthur Pearson's</span> +Fund for Blinded Soldiers and Sailors. +The Independent Music Club, which +has been of invaluable assistance to +musicians suffering from the War, +proposes to entertain at least five hundred +Wounded Soldiers at this Concert.</p> + +<p>Five shillings will provide ticket, +transport and tea for one Wounded +Soldier. Gifts for this purpose and for +the object of helping our Blinded +Soldiers and Sailors will be very gratefully +acknowledged by the Treasurer, +Independent Music Club, 13, Pembroke +Gardens, Kensington, W.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The net proceeds of a "Special Night" +at the National Sporting Club on Monday, +January 17th, commencing at +8 <span class="sc">P.M.</span>, are to be given to the Wounded +Allies Relief Fund.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OPEN SECRETS.</h2> + +<p>(<i>Inspired by the sight, anywhere in +France, of the notice: "Taisez-vous! +Méfiez-vous! Les ennemies oreilles +vous ecoutent!</i>")</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>There is something in the air,</p> +<p class="i8">Dinna doot!</p> +<p>We shall shortly see some <i>guerre</i></p> +<p class="i8">Hereaboot.</p> +<p class="i2">Yes, we're going to make a rush,</p> +<p class="i2">Starting Tuesday next at—Hush!</p> +<p class="i8"><i>Pourquoi?</i></p> +<p><i>Les ennemies oreilles nous écoutent!</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>We have got some special guns</p> +<p class="i8">For to shoot,</p> +<p>And to make the fleshy Huns</p> +<p class="i8">Up and scoot.</p> +<p class="i2">Would you care to hear the list?</p> +<p class="i2">There's a grandmamma at—Hist!</p> +<p class="i8"><i>Silence!</i></p> +<p><i>Les ennemies oreilles nous écoutent!</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It is more than patent to</p> +<p class="i8">The astute</p> +<p>That a very big to-do</p> +<p class="i8">Is <i>en route</i>.</p> +<p class="i2">There's a million men, I'm told,</p> +<p class="i2">Sailing round to land at—Hold!</p> +<p class="i8"><i>Doucement!</i></p> +<p><i>Les ennemies oreilles nous écoutent!</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Tho' to you, my simple friend,</p> +<p class="i8">It is moot</p> +<p>When the War is going to end</p> +<p class="i8">(<i>Dat vas goot!</i>)</p> +<p class="i2"><i>I</i> could say exactly when</p> +<p class="i2">Peace will be declared. But then,</p> +<p class="i8"><i>Hélas!</i></p> +<p><i>Les ennemies oreilles nous écoutent!</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I should be the very last</p> +<p class="i8">To dispute</p> +<p>That remarks, too freely passed,</p> +<p class="i8">Come as loot</p> +<p class="i2">To those wicked people, spies;</p> +<p class="i2">Yet what lots and lots of lies</p> +<p class="i8">(<i>Mon Dieu!</i>)</p> +<p><i>Les ennemies oreilles en écoutent!</i></p> + </div> </div> + +<p><span class="sc">Henry (Watch Dog).</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:40%;"><a href="images/037.png"><img width="100%" src="images/037.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Fickle Young Thing</i> (<i>revisiting Tattooist</i>.) +"<span class="sc">Er—do you think you could possibly alter this badge on my arm? You +see, I've—er—exchanged into another regiment</span>."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<p>From a report of <span class="sc">King Ferdinand's</span> +address to the Sobranje:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"The speech then exalts over victories won, +and generally is couched in a rather orid +strain."—<i>Cork Constitution.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Like everything else that <span class="sc">Ferdy</span> does.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>New Ideas for War Weddings.</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"The bride looked extremely well in a gown +of ivory crepe-de-chene, trimmed with filet lace +and ivory aeroplane. Her hat was of gathered +aeroplane, adorned with real ospreys."</p> + +<p><i>Times of Ceylon.</i></p> + +<p>"The ceremony and congratulations being +of smilax and pom pom'mums."</p> + +<p><i>Wiarton Echo (Canada).</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The public simply hand in the order and +cash to any tobacconist, with the name of the +man to whom the cigarettes are to be sent, +and the welcome gift will reach Tommy in +time for Christmas."</p> + +<p><i>Advt. in Morning Paper, Dec. 31st, 1915.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Unless, as we all hope, Tommy is at +home again before that.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Another Crisis Averted.</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Our London Correspondent says that he +has offered to resign, but the Prime Minister +refused to accept his resignation."</p> + +<p><i>Cork Examiner.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>[pg 38]</span> + +<h2>MY BIRTHDAY.</h2> + +<p>"My birthday," I said, "is setting in with its usual +severity."</p> + +<p>"What," said Francesca, "has driven you to this terrible +conclusion?"</p> + +<p>"Little signs; straws showing how the wind blows."</p> + +<p>"I wonder," she said, "how that came to be a proverb. +Personally I don't keep packets of straws to test the wind +by, and I never met anybody else who did. Handkerchiefs +are much more certain, and men's hats are best of all."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "when I see my hat starting full tilt +on an excursion I always know which way the wind is +blowing right enough. Tell me, Francesca, why does a +man's hat, when it's blown off, always bring up in a +puddle?"</p> + +<p>"And get run over by a butcher's cart?"</p> + +<p>"And why does everybody laugh at the hat's owner?"</p> + +<p>"And why does the boy who brings it back to you +expect payment for the miserable and useless object?"</p> + +<p>"And where," I said, "does the owner disappear to +afterwards? You never see a man with a hat on his head +that's been run over—no, I mean, with a hat that's been +run over on his head—no, no, I mean, with a hat that's +been run over off his head—Francesca, I give it up; I shall +never get that sentence right, but you know what I mean. +Anyhow I will put the dreadful vision by. What was I +talking about when this hat calamity broke in?"</p> + +<p>"You had made," said Francesca, "a cold and distant +allusion to your birthday. It's coming to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Well," I said, "it can come if it likes, but I shall refuse +to receive it. I don't want it. I'm quite old enough +without it. At my age people don't have birthdays. They +just go on living, and other people say how wonderful they +are for their years, and they must be sixty if they're a day, +but nobody would think so, and——"</p> + +<p>"And that it's all due to early rising and regular habits."</p> + +<p>"And smoking and partial abstemiousness."</p> + +<p>"And general good conduct. But you can have all that +sort of praise and yet celebrate your birthday."</p> + +<p>"But I tell you I won't have my birthday celebrated. +Those are my orders."</p> + +<p>"Orders?" she said. "People don't give orders about +absurdities like that."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "they do; but their orders are not obeyed. +There's Frederick, for instance. He's only eight, I know, +but he's got something up his sleeve. He asked me +yesterday if I could lend him threepence, and did I think +that a small notebook with a pencil would be a nice present +for a sort of uncle on his birthday—not a father, mind you, +but an uncle. There's a Machiavelli for you."</p> + +<p>"And what did you say?"</p> + +<p>"I told him I had never met an uncle who didn't adore +notebooks, but that few fathers really appreciated them; +and then he countered me. He said he had noticed that +many fathers were uncles too."</p> + +<p>"That child," said Francesca, "will be a Lord Chancellor. +He'd look splendid on a woolsack."</p> + +<p>"Yes, later on. At present his legs would dangle a bit, +wouldn't they?"</p> + +<p>"They're very-well-shaped legs, anyhow. Any Lord +Chancellor would be proud to possess them."</p> + +<p>"To resume," I said, "about the birthday. There's +Alice too. She's engaged on some nefarious scheme with a +paint-box and a sheet of paper. It's directed at me, I +know, because, whenever I approach her, things have to +be hustled away or covered up. However, it's all useless. +My mind's made up. I will <i>not</i> have a birthday."</p> + +<p>"You can't prevent it, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can," I said. "It's mine, and if I decide not to +have it nobody can make me."</p> + +<p>"But isn't that rather selfish?"</p> + +<p>"It can't be selfish of me to deprive myself of a birthday."</p> + +<p>"But you're depriving the children of it, and that's +worse than selfish. It's positively heartless."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, I'm heartless. At any rate my orders +are that there shall be no birthday; and don't you forget it, +or, rather, forget it as hard as ever you can."</p> + +<p>"I can't hold out the least prospect that your suggestion +will meet with favourable consideration."</p> + +<p>The birthday duly arrived, and I went down to breakfast. +As I entered the room a shout of applause broke from the +already assembled family. "Look at your place," said +Frederick. I did, and beheld on the table a collection of +unaccustomed articles. There was a box of chocolates +from Muriel and Nina; there was a note-book with an +appropriate pencil. "That," said Frederick, "is for Cousin +Herbert's uncle. Ha, ha!" And there was, from Alice, +a painted Calendar fit to hang on any wall. It represents +a Tartar nobleman haughtily walking in a green meadow, +with a background of snow-capped mountains. He has a +long pig-tail and a black velvet cap with a puce knob. +His trousers are blue striped with purple. He has a long +blue cloak decorated with red figures, and his carmine +train is borne by a juvenile page dressed in a short orange-coloured +robe. It is a very magnificent design, and on +the back of it is written:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"This is but a Birthday rhyme</p> +<p>Written in this dark War-time.</p> +<p>We can't afford to waste our ink,</p> +<p>And so I'll quickly stop, I think."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Thus I was compelled to have a birthday after all.</p> + +<p>R. C. L.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>TO LUCASTA, FROM THE WARS.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Perusing the epistles I devotedly indite</p> +<p>You long, I know, Lucasta dear, to see me as I write;</p> +<p>Your fancy paints my portrait framed in hectic scenes of war—</p> +<p>I'll try to show you briefly what my circumstances are.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Your swain is now a troglodyte; as in a dungeon deep</p> +<p>He who so worshipped stars and you must write and eat and sleep;</p> +<p>Like some swart djinnee of the mine your sunshine-loving slave</p> +<p>Builds airy castles, meet for two, 'neath candles in a cave.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Above, the sky is very grey, the world is very damp,</p> +<p>His light the sun denies by day, the moon by night her lamp;</p> +<p>Across the landscape soaked and sad the dull guns answer back,</p> +<p>And through the twilight's futile hush spasmodic rifles crack.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The papers haven't come to-day to show how England feels;</p> +<p>The hours go lame and languidly between our Spartan meals;</p> +<p>We've written letters till we're tired, with not a thing to tell</p> +<p>Except that nothing's doing, weather beastly, writer well.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So when you feel for us out here—as well I know you will—</p> +<p>Then sympathise with thousands for their country sitting still;</p> +<p>Don't picture battle-pieces by the lurid Press adored,</p> +<p>But miles and miles of Britishers, in burrows, badly bored!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>[pg 39]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/039.png"><img width="100%" src="images/039.png" alt=""/></a><h3>WAR ECONOMY.</h3> +<p><i>Mistress (to chauffeur, who is crawling down-hill).</i> "<span class="sc">Why are +you driving so slowly?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Chauffeur</i> (<i>ex-coachman</i>). "<span class="sc">Well, Ma'am, you told me to +be as economical as possible these times, so I was puttin' the brake on +to make the down-'ill last as long as possible."</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<p>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Narcissus</i> (<span class="sc">Secker</span>), by Miss <span class="sc">Viola Meynell</span>, is one of +those books for which I cannot help feeling that my appreciation +would have been keener two years ago than is +possible to-day. It is the story of the growth to manhood +of two brothers, <i>Victor</i> and <i>Jimmy</i>, who live with their +widowed mother in an outer suburb of London. That +there is art, very subtle and delicate art, in the telling of it +goes without saying. The characters of the brothers are +realized with exquisite care. <i>Victor</i>, the elder, uncertain, +violently sensitive and emotional, seeking always from life +what he is never destined (at least so far as the present +story carries him) to attain; <i>Jimmy</i>, placid, shallow, +avoiding all emotion, attracting happiness like a magnet. +Nothing, I repeat, could be better done in its kind than +the pictures of these two, and of the not very interesting +crowd of young persons among whom they move. But, for +all its real beauty of style, I have to confess that the book +left me cold, and even a little irritated. Perhaps we demand +something more from our heroes these days than susceptibility, +or indifference, to emotion. Was the purpose of +life, one wonders, ever as delicately elusive as these bewildered +young men seem to find it? I kept longing for +Lord <span class="sc">Derby</span>. Perhaps, again, this is but part of the cleverness +of the writer, and Miss <span class="sc">Meynell</span>, like the child in +the poem, only does it to annoy. But I hardly think so. +Her tenderness and sympathy for <i>Victor</i> especially are +obvious. He, I take it, is <i>Narcissus</i> (though <i>Narcissi</i> would +have been a truer title for the book, as each of the brothers +is more in love with his own reflection than with anything +else), and, since he is left unmarried at the close of the +volume, I derived some quiet satisfaction from the thought +that modified conscription might yet make a man of him.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Why will the heroes of historical fiction persist in that +dangerous practice of leaving an angry and overmastered +villain bound to a tree to await death or rescue? The +result is rescue every time, and one way and another a +mort of trouble for the good characters. Still it may be +argued that if the protagonist of <i>The Fortunes of Garin</i> +(<span class="sc">Constable</span>) had not followed this risky precedent those +fortunes would not have led him where they eventually +did, and we should have missed one of the best costume +novels of the year. Miss <span class="sc">Mary Johnston</span> is among the +very few waiters whom I can follow without weariness +through the mazes of mediævalism. This tale of the +adventures of a knight and a lady in the days when +<span class="sc">Henry II.</span> sat on the throne of England, and his son +<span class="sc">Richard</span> princed it in Angoulême, is told with an air +that lifts it out of tushery into romance. She wields a +picturesque and courtly style, sometimes indeed a trifle +too charged with metaphor to be altogether manageable +(as for example when she speaks of "pouring oil upon the +red embers of a score unpaid"), but for the most part +admirably pleasing to the ear. Her antique figures are +alive; and the whole tale goes forward with a various and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>[pg 40]</span> +high-stepping movement and a glow of colour that reminded +me of nothing more than that splendid pageant one follows +round the walls of the Riccardi Palace in Florence. Of +course the journey ends in lovers' meeting and the teaching +of his place to the evil-minded. The fact that this latter +was called <i>Jaufre</i>, a name that I would wish kindlier +entreated, is almost my only complaint against a lively +and entertaining story which more than once rises to real +beauty.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Given a plot of the conventional order I dare say it is +best to make very little fuss or mystery about it. So, at +any rate, "<span class="sc">Katharine Tynan</span>" seems to think, for after about +page 32 of her latest book, <i>Since First I Saw Your Face</i> +(<span class="sc">Hutchinson</span>), there is really almost no guessing left to do, +the authoress seeming principally concerned to ensure a +smooth passage for one's prophecies. Thus, while the unknown +son of a secret marriage, +happening by good luck to +thrash the ostensible claimant +to the title and heroine, gets +that successful start in the early +pages that is so necessary to +his happiness in the last, and +the lady never really looks like +straying far into disconcerting +opinions of her own, even the +rival himself obliges us by +throwing up the sponge just +when the game should really +begin. All this is soothing +enough, but it is also very thin +stuff; and the addition of a +ghostly ancestress, who lures +her descendants to midnight +assignations by smiling at them +out of a <span class="sc">Lely</span> painting, does +not stiffen things much. The +fact is that away from such a +purely Irish subject as, say, +"Countrymen All," Mrs. <span class="sc">Hinkson</span> +really has not much to tell. +Sweeney's New York Stores do +not harmonise at all well with her +atmosphere of wistful tragedy. +The effect suggests a soap-bubble +trying to cake-walk.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>When cattle-ships put forth to sea</p> +<p class="i2">From Montreal across the Atlantic,</p> +<p>The life on board would not suit me,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor you, I think. The cattle frantic,</p> +<p>The tough steel plates beneath the might</p> +<p class="i2">Of crashing waters well-nigh riven—</p> +<p>Ugh! Here it is in black and white,</p> +<p class="i2">Clearly described by <span class="sc">Frederick Niven</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Published by <span class="sc">Heinemann</span> (six bob),</p> +<p class="i2">The book relates the ceaseless battle</p> +<p>Which they must wage whose steady job</p> +<p class="i2">Is valeting a mob of cattle;</p> +<p>And yet they pant to get a ship,</p> +<p class="i2">For jobs the owners they importune</p> +<p>At—mark you this!—one pound the trip!</p> +<p class="i2">I wouldn't do it for a fortune.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It's just a tale of common men,</p> +<p class="i2">Who never went to school or college,</p> +<p>Writ by a skilled and practised pen</p> +<p class="i2">Most certainly from first-hand knowledge;</p> +<p>It has no very obvious plan,</p> +<p class="i2">No movement, no connected story;</p> +<p>And yet I don't see how you can</p> +<p class="i2">Fail to enjoy The <i>S.S. Glory</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>You'll meet some men you're sure to like—</p> +<p class="i2">Men who would greet you as a brother;</p> +<p>One is that honest fellow, <i>Mike</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">And <i>Cockney</i>, possibly, another;</p> +<p>Unpolished, quick to wrath and slow,</p> +<p class="i2">When roused, to lay aside their cholor,</p> +<p>Yet are they types you ought to know</p> +<p class="i2">As well as did the hero, <i>Scholar</i>.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/040.png"><img width="100%" src="images/040.png" alt=""/></a><p>THE UNINTERNED PERIL IN OUR MIDST.</p> + +<p>Portrait of Herr Pfunk ("Sister Susie"), who edits "Our +Mites' Corner" in the well-known weekly, <i>Mum's Pets</i>, and +also conducts a column of "Hints to Mothers," which is +having an alarming effect on infant mortality.</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<p>In an eloquent foreword to <i>The Queen's Gift Book</i>, +(<span class="sc">Hodder and Stoughton</span>), we are told by Mr. <span class="sc">Galsworthy</span> +that it is "in the nature of a hat passed round, into which, +God send, many hundred thousand +coins may be poured." +The coin that we are asked to +put into what I hope will be a +very widely circulating hat is +half-a-crown, and whatever you +may or may not think of Gift +Books I can promise you that +in this instance to pay your +money is to get its worth. It +is true that some of the contributors +have given us work that +we have already had an opportunity +to know; but even here +I am not grumbling, for among +the stories that have already +been published is Mr. <span class="sc">Leonard +Merrick's</span> "The Fairy Poodle," +a tale so full of sparkle that +the oftener I see it the better +I shall be pleased. All tastes, +however, are catered for. You +can read tales by Sir <span class="sc">J. M. +Barrie</span> or Mr. <span class="sc">Joseph Hocking</span>, +verses by Sir <span class="sc">Arthur Conan +Doyle</span>, Mr. <span class="sc">John Oxenham</span> or +Mrs. <span class="sc">Henry de la Pasture</span>, +sketches by Mr. <span class="sc">Conrad</span> or +"<span class="sc">Sapper</span>." But I advise you to +read the lot. An especial word +of praise is, I feel, due to Mr. <span class="sc">John Buchan</span> for a tale +humorous enough in its dry way to squeeze a smile from a +mummy, and to the artists who have helped to make this +Gift the success that it is. In short, the book is good, +nearly as good as the object for which it has been +published. "In aid," we read on the cover, "of Queen +Mary's Convalescent Auxiliary Hospitals. For Soldiers +and Sailors who have lost their limbs in the War." Here +then, by helping to provide our maimed heroes with the +best mechanical substitutes for the limbs which they have +lost, is a chance for us to pay a little of the unpayable debt +we owe to them. Mr. <span class="sc">Galsworthy</span> may rest assured that +his appeal to "our honour in this matter" will not be +made in vain.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>An extract from the Master of the <span class="sc">Temple's</span> sermon on +"Muddling Through":—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"When we rejoiced at the efficiency of our Navy we too seldom +recollected that it was primarily due to a superbly effective system of +education built up by the efforts of a few great men loyally supported +by enthusiastic insubordinates."—<i>Morning Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p><span class="sc">Nelson's</span> "blind eye" is not forgotten.</p> +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +150, January 12, 1916, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 22672-h.htm or 22672-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/6/7/22672/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David King, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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