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diff --git a/22697-h/22697-h.htm b/22697-h/22697-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..85c8dcb --- /dev/null +++ b/22697-h/22697-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2690 @@ +<!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>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 150, February 23, 1916, by Various</title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .drama {margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .drama p {margin: 1em 0em 0em 0em;; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + .drama p.i2 {margin: 0; margin-left: 1em;} + .drama p.i4 {margin: 0; margin-left: 2em;} + .drama p.i6 {margin: 0; margin-left: 3em;} + .drama p.i8 {margin: 0; margin-left: 4em;} + .drama p.i10 {margin: 0; margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + .inline {border: none; vertical-align: middle;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + + .side { float:right; + font-size: 75%; + width: 25%; + padding-left:10px; + border-left: dashed thin; + margin-left: 10px; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: italic;} + hr.pg { width: 100%; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + border: solid black; + height: 5px; } + pre {font-size: 75%; } + --> + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 150, +February 23, 1916, by Various, Edited by Owen Seaman</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 150, February 23, 1916</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: Owen Seaman</p> +<p>Release Date: September 21, 2007 [eBook #22697]</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, FEBRUARY 23, 1916***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram<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>February 23, 1916.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" id="page129"></a>[pg 129]</span> + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p>The threatened shortage of paper +has led a few unkind persons to +enquire upon what our diplomatic victories +are hereafter to be achieved.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>An interned German was recently +given a week's freedom in which to get +married, and the interesting question +has now been raised as to whether his +children, when they reach the age of +twenty-one, will be liable to the Conscription +Act or will have to be interned +as alien enemies.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>According to Miss <span class="sc">Ellen Terry</span> but +little attention has been given by the +critics to the letters in <span class="sc">Shakspeare's</span> +plays. We rather thought that one of +Germany's intelligent young professors +had recently subjected the letters to a +searching analysis, the result being to +establish beyond a reasonable doubt +that England started the War.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>From <i>The Observer</i>:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"The King has sent a congratulatory letter +to Mrs. Mann of Nottingham, who has nine +sons serving in the Army and Navy. This is +believed to be a record for one working-class +family." +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Though a mere bagatelle, of course, for +the idle rich.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>We regret to read of the death from +tuberculosis of one of the most popular +and playful of the Zoological Society's +crocodiles. Death is said to have been +hastened by a severe chill contracted +by the intelligent reptile as the result +of leaving off a warm undervest, the +gift of an elderly female admirer, in +order to pursue, in jest, of course, the +keeper of the reptile house down a drain.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A Persian newspaper entitled <i>Kaveh</i> +is now being published in Berlin for +the purpose of increasing popular interest +in Persian affairs. Its title is +short for "<i>Kaveh kanem</i>!" (Beware +of the Bulldog!)</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Women who have volunteered to do +agricultural work in place of men +called to the colours will wear a green +armlet, green being selected in preference +to red on account of the possibility +of cows.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The proposal that wives whose +husbands, though of military age, have +not attested under the Derby Act shall +be allowed to wear a ribbon on the left +arm to signify that it is not their fault, +is said to have received considerable +support.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>There is no pleasing everybody. Last +week Mr. <span class="sc">Tennant</span> told the House of +Commons that hereafter "the Navy +would undertake to deal with all hostile +aircraft attempting to reach this country, +while the Army undertook to deal +with all aircraft which reached these +shores." And now the Horse Marines +are asking bitterly why they are not to +be permitted to share in the great work.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/129.png"><img width="100%" src="images/129.png" alt=""/></a><p>ONLY TO THINK THAT +KAISER WILHELM, COUNT ZEPPELIN, +VON +TIRPITZ, +AND +CROWN +PRINCE +WILLIE +ALL LOOKED LIKE THIS ONCE!</p> + +<p><b>OUGHT WE TO GROW UP</b>?</p></div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The German Government has put +restrictions on the sale of sauerkraut, +and a hideous rumour is afoot to the +effect that they are preparing to use it +on the prisoners by forcible feeding.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>It is said of the Chicago meat-packers +that they use every part of the pig +except the squeal. As the result of +the restriction put upon wood pulp an +equally economical process is to be +applied to our old newspapers.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Several new records were established at +the Geelong wool sales, including 20d. for +greasy merino lambs.—<i>Reuter</i>." +</p></blockquote> + +<p>This revival of the ancient pastime of +chasing the greasy lamb will be of +interest to antiquarians.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>From The <i>Irish Times</i>: "Wanted +Lad as assistant plumber. <i>Experience +not necessary</i>." After all there is something +to be said for the ravages of war.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" id="page130"></a>[pg 130]</span> + +<h2>ERZERUM: A SET-BACK IN THE HOLY WAR.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Kaiser to Sultan</span>.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>My Moslem brother, this is sad, sad news,</p> +<p class="i2">So sad that I permit myself to mention</p> +<p>How much it modifies my sanguine views</p> +<p class="i4">Of Allah's intervention.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>In that combine for holy ends and high</p> +<p class="i2">Of which I let him figure as the joint head</p> +<p>I must (between ourselves) confess that I</p> +<p class="i4">Am gravely disappointed.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Without his help I did the Balkan stunt,</p> +<p class="i2">But when I left him to his own devices</p> +<p>To operate upon a local front</p> +<p class="i4">He failed me at the crisis.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I could not run the show in every scene,</p> +<p class="i2">Not all at once; and Caucasus was chilly—</p> +<p>Fifty degrees of frost, which would have been</p> +<p class="i4">Bad for the health of <span class="sc">Willie</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And then to think that he should let me down</p> +<p class="i2">When I was sore in need of heavenly comfort,</p> +<p>Making the Christian free of Erzerum town,</p> +<p class="i4">Which, as you know, is "some" fort.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Not that I mind the mere material loss,</p> +<p class="i2">But poor Armenia, hitherto quiescent,</p> +<p>Who sees the barbarous brigands of the Cross</p> +<p class="i4">Trampling her trusted Crescent!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>True, you have spared the major part this pain,</p> +<p class="i2">But for the remnant, who escaped your heeding,</p> +<p>My heart (recovered, thank you, from Louvain),</p> +<p class="i4">Once more has started bleeding.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>O.S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>MY WAR STORIES.</h2> + +<p>Did you ever try to write War stories? I am not +alluding to Press telegrams from Athens, Amsterdam or +Copenhagen, but legitimate magazine fiction. Once I +was reasonably competent and could rake in my modest +share of War profits. But recently Clibbers, of the International +Fiction Syndicate, approached me and said, "Old +man, do me some War stuff. Anything you like, but it +must have a novel climax."</p> + +<p>"Not in a War story," I protested.</p> + +<p>"Can you deliver the goods?" said Clibbers sternly.</p> + +<p>After that what could I do but alter the stories I had in +stock.</p> + +<p>For example there was my fine story, "Retrieved." The +innocent convict (would that I had the happy innocence +of the convict of fiction!) emerges from Portmoor. In a few +well-chosen words the genial old prison governor (to avoid +libel actions I hasten to say that no allusion is made to +any living person) advises the released man to make a +new career. The convict marches to the recruiting office +and enlists. In a couple of paragraphs he is at the Front; +on the second page he saves the Colonel's life, captures a +German trench on page three, and in less time than it takes +to do it gains the V.C., discovers the villain dying repentant +with a full confession in his left puttee, and embraces the +girl who chanced to be Red-Crossing in the rear of the +German position—presumably having arrived there by +aeroplane. This seemed to me both probable and credible +in a magazine. Still a novel climax was needed. After the +few well-chosen words from the prison governor I took the +convict to the nearest public-house, let him discover that +the new restrictions were in force, and brought the story +to a novel conclusion by making him say with oaths to the +recruiting officer that he would be jiggered if ever he +formed fours for such a rotten old country.</p> + +<p>I thought that, at any rate, I had provided one surprise +for my readers. Then I turned to my psychological +study, entitled "The Funk." There wasn't much story +in this, but a good deal about a man's sensations when in +danger. I could picture the horror of it from personal +experience, for my rear rank man has nearly brained me +a dozen times when the specials have bayonet drill (I +also have nearly brained—but I am wandering from the +subject). Well, the Funk at the critical moment ran away, +but, being muddled by German gas clouds, ran straight into +the German lines. He thought that people were trying +to intercept his flight. In panic he cut them down. +At the last moment he cut the <span class="sc">Crown Prince's</span> smile in +twain. (In fiction, mark you, it is quite allowable to put +the <span class="sc">Crown Prince</span> into the firing line). Then came glory, +the D.C.M. and a portrait of some one else with the +Funk's name attached in <i>The Daily Snap</i>. However, +novelty was needed. I concluded by leaving the Funk +hiding in a dug-out when the British charged and eating +the regiment's last pot of strawberry jam.</p> + +<p>I turned to another romance, entitled "Secret Service," +and found to my joy that this needed very little alteration. +The hero chanced to be in Germany at the outset of the +war. He was imprisoned at Ruhleben, Potsdam, Dantzic, +Frankfort and Wilhelmshaven. He escaped from these +places by swimming the Rhine (thrice), the Danube, the +Meuse, the Elbe, the Vistula, the Bug, the Volga, the Kiel +Canal and Lake Geneva. He chloroformed, sandbagged, +choked and gagged sentinels throughout the length and +breadth of Germany. From under a railway carriage seat +he overheard a conversation between <span class="sc">Enver Bey</span> and +<span class="sc">Bernhardi</span>. Concealed beneath a pew at a Lutheran +church he heard <span class="sc">Count Zep.</span> and <span class="sc">von Tirp.</span> exchanging +deadly secrets. Finally he emerged from a grandfather's +clock as the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> was handing the <span class="sc">Crown Prince</span> some +immensely important documents, snatched them, stole an +aeroplane, bombed a Zeppelin or two on his homeward +way, and landed exhausted at Lord <span class="sc">Kitchener's</span> feet. +Here came the change. Instead of opening the parcel to +discover the plans of the German staff, the <span class="sc">War Secretary</span> +found in his hand this document:—</p> + +<p>"Sausage Prices in Berlin: Pork Sausage, 3 marks 80 pf.; +Horse Sausage, 3 marks 45 pf.; Dog Sausage, 2 marks 95 pf. +Gott mit uns.—<span class="sc">Wilhelm</span>."</p> + +<p>I sent the three romances to Clibbers and waited his +reply with anxiety. It came promptly and as follows:—"Are +you mad?—<span class="sc">Clibbers.</span>"</p> + +<p>Instantly I sent him the first versions of these magnificent +fictions. He phoned me at once, "That's the +kind of novelty I want. Send me some more."</p> + +<p>You will see "Retrieved," "The Funk," and "Secret +Service" in the magazines shortly. Don't trouble if the +titles differ. After all, there are only three genuine War +story plots.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>More Stories of Old London.</h3> + +<p>(With acknowledgments to "<i>The Evening News</i>.")</p> + +<p>Mr. George Washington Turpin, Islington, writes:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"I wonder if Mr. G. R. Sims remembers a curious horsey character +known as John Gilpin, who rode in state one day from his home +in the City to the Bell at Edmonton. I shall never forget the crowd +that assembled to see him pass through Islington. It's quite a +while ago and my memory is not so clear as it might be, but being a +bit of a road-hog he missed the Bell and went on to York or somewhere." +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" id="page131"></a>[pg 131]</span> + +<h3>DUAL CONTROL.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/131.png"><img width="100%" src="images/131.png" alt=""/></a><p>"A KIND OF A GIDDY HARUMFRODITE—SOLDIER AN' SAILOR TOO."</p> + +<p><span class="sc"><i>Rudyard Kipling</i>.</span></p> + +<p>"Sir <span class="sc">Percy Scott</span> has not quite left the Admiralty and has not +quite joined the War Office."—<i>Mr. <span class="sc">Ellis Griffith</span>, in the +House</i>. Since this remark Lord <span class="sc">Kitchener</span>, has announced that +the Admiral is to act as expert adviser to Field-Marshal Lord +<span class="sc">French</span>, who is taking over the responsibility for home defence +against aircraft.</p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" id="page132"></a>[pg 132]</span> + +<h2>THE SIMMERERS.</h2> + +<p>"I shall never shake it off," said Francesca. It was +six o'clock and she had just come in from having tea with +some friends.</p> + +<p>"Shake what off?" I said.</p> + +<p>"My Cimmerian gloom," she said. "Haven't you +noticed it?"</p> + +<p>"No," I said, "I can't say I have. Perhaps if you stood +with your back to the light—yes, there's just a <i>soupçon</i> of +it now, but nothing that I could honestly call Cimmerian."</p> + +<p>"Of course you'd be sure to say that. I can never get +you to believe in my headaches, and now you won't notice +my Cimmerian gloom."</p> + +<p>"Francesca," I said, "I do not like to hear you speak +lightly of your headaches. To me they are sacred institutions, +and I should never dare to tamper with them. Don't +I always walk on tiptoe and speak in a whisper when you +have a headache? You know I do, even when you don't +happen to be in the room. If your gloom is the same sort +of thing as your headache——"</p> + +<p>"It's much worse."</p> + +<p>"If it's only as bad I'm +prepared to give it a most +respectful welcome. But +what is it all about?"</p> + +<p>"It's about the War."</p> + +<p>"God bless my soul, you +don't say so. You're generally +so cheerful about it and +so hopeful about our winning. +What <i>has</i> happened to give +you the hump? We've +blown up any amount of +mines and occupied the craters, +and we've driven down +several German aeroplanes."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," she said, +"I admit all that; but I've +just met Mrs. Rowley."</p> + +<p>"And a very cheery little +party she is, too."</p> + +<p>"That," said Francesca, +"is just it."</p> + +<p>"What's just what?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Don't be so flippant."</p> + +<p>"And don't you be so cryptic. What's Mrs. Rowley's +cheerfulness done to you?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you how it happened," she said. "We met; +'twas at a tea, and first of all we talked about committees."</p> + +<p>"Committees!" I said. "How glorious! Are there +many?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said. "There's the old Relief Committee, and +the Belgian Committee, and the Soldiers' Comforts' Committee, +and the Hospital Visitors' Committee, and the +Children's Meals' Committee, and the Entertainments' +Committee and the——"</p> + +<p>"Enough," I said. "I will take the rest for granted. +But isn't there a danger that with all these committees——?"</p> + +<p>"I know," she said; "you're going to say something +about overlapping."</p> + +<p>"Your insight," I said, "is wonderful. How did you +know?"</p> + +<p>"I've noticed," she said, "that when men form committees +they always declare that there sha'n't be any overlapping, +and then, according to their own account, they get to +work and all overlap like mad. Now we women don't +worry about overlapping. Most of us don't know what it +means—I don't myself—but we appoint presidents and +treasurers and secretaries, and then we go ahead and do +things. If we were only left to ourselves we should never +call a meeting of any committee after we'd once started it. +It's the men who insist on committees meeting."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and on keeping them from breaking their rules."</p> + +<p>"What's the use of having committees if you can't break +their silly old rules?"</p> + +<p>"Amiable anarchist," I said, "let us abandon committees +and return to Mrs. Rowley."</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "we soon got on to the War."</p> + +<p>"You might easily do that," I said. "The subject has +its importance. What does Mrs. Rowley think of it?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Rowley thinks it's all perfectly splendid. She +hasn't the least doubt about anything. She knows the +uncle of a man whose cousin is in the War Office and often +sees Lord <span class="sc">Kitchener</span> in the corridors, and he's quite +certain——"</p> + +<p>"Who? Lord <span class="sc">Kitchener</span>?"</p> + +<p>"No, the uncle of the man whose cousin—he's quite +certain the War will be over in our favour before next June, +because there'll be a revolution in Potsdam and thousands +of Germans are being killed in bread-riots every day, and +lots of stuff of that sort."</p> + +<p>"I understand," I said. +"You began to react against +it."</p> + +<p>"Something of that kind. +She was so terribly serene +and so dreadfully over-confident +that I got contradictious +and had to argue with +her—simply couldn't restrain +myself—and then she said +she was sorry I was such a +pessimist, and I said I wasn't, +and here I am."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "you are, +and in a state of Cimmerian +gloom, naturally enough. +But you've come to the +right place—no, by Jove, +now that I think of it you've +come to the wrong place, the +very wrongest place in the world."</p> + +<p>"How's that?"</p> + +<p>"Because I met old Captain Burstall out walking, and +he was miserable about everything. According to him we +haven't got a dog's chance anywhere. The Government's +rotten, the Army's rotten, the Navy's worse and the +British Empire's going to be smashed up before Easter."</p> + +<p>"Captain Burstall's the man for my money. If I'd only +met him I should have been as cheerful as a lark."</p> + +<p>"And that," I said, "is exactly what I am, entirely +owing to a natural spirit of contradiction. I just pulled +myself together and countered him on every point."</p> + +<p>"I daresay you did it very well," she said; "but if +you're as cock-a-hoop as you make out I don't see how I'm +ever to get rid of my depression. I shall be starting to +contradict <i>you</i> next."</p> + +<p>"Which," I said, "will be an entirely novel experience +for both of us. But I'll tell you a better way; let's keep +silent for ten minutes and simmer back to our usual +condition of reasonable hopefulness."</p> + +<p>"I can't promise silence," she said, "but I'll back myself +against the world as a simmerer."</p> + +<p>R. C. L.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/132.png"><img width="100%" src="images/132.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Jarge (on a visit to London).</i> "<span class="sc">Let's go oop +past th' War Office, Maria. We might see Kitchener</span>."</p> + +<p><i>Maria</i>. "<span class="sc">We'll do nothin' o' th' sort. More'n likely you two'd +get talkin' an' we'd miss our train."</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Shakspeare</span> to the Slackers:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Dishonour not your mothers; now attest." <i><span class="sc">Henry</span> V., Act III., +Scene I</i>. +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" id="page133"></a>[pg 133]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/133.png"><img width="100%" src="images/133.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Joan (reading).</i> "<span class="sc">It says here that this war is +Armagideon, and the end as the would is fixed for the beginning of +April</span>."</p> + +<p><i>Darby.</i> "<span class="sc">There, now! I always said the Kaiser would wriggle +out of it somehow!"</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ANOTHER AIR SCANDAL.</h2> + +<p>If ever I write a Hymn of Hate, or, +at any rate, of resentment, it will not +be about the Germans, but about a +certain type of Englishman whom I +encounter far too often and shall never +understand. The Germans are now +beyond any hymning, however fervent; +they are, it is reassuring to think, a +class by themselves. But my man +should be hymned, not because it will +do him any good, but because it relieves +my feelings.</p> + +<p>It is really rather a curious case, for +he might be quite a nice fellow and, I +have little doubt, often is; but he boasts +and flaunts an inhuman insensibility +that excites one's worst passions.</p> + +<p>What would you say was the quality +or characteristic most to be desired in +every member of our social common-wealth? +Obviously there is only one +reply to this question: that he should +be decently susceptible to draughts. If +society is to go on, either we must all +be so pachydermatous as to be able +to disregard draughts, or we must +feel them and act accordingly. There +should not be here and there a strange +Ishmaelite creature whose delight it +is to be played upon by boreal blasts. +But there is. I meet him in the train, +and the other day I hymned him.</p> + +<p>O thou (my hymn of dislike, of annoyance, +of remonstrance began):—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>O thou, the foe of comfort, heat,</p> +<p>O thou who hast the corner seat,</p> +<p>Facing the engine, as we say</p> +<p>(Although it is so far away,</p> +<p class="i2">And in between</p> +<p class="i2">So many coaches intervene,</p> +<p>The phrase partakes of foolishness);—</p> +<p>O thou who sittest there no less,</p> +<p>Keeping the window down</p> +<p>Though all the carriage frown,</p> +<p class="i2">Why dost thou so rejoice in air?</p> +<p>Not air that nourishes and braces,</p> +<p>Such as one finds in watering-places,</p> +<p class="i2">But air to chill a polar bear—</p> +<p>Malignant air at sixty miles an hour</p> +<p class="i2">That rakes the carriage fore and aft,</p> +<p>Wherein we cower;</p> +<p class="i2">Not air at all, but sheer revengeful draught!</p> +<p>How canst thou like it? Say! How canst thou do it?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Thou even read'st a paper through it!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Know'st thou no pain?</p> +<p class="i2">Sciatica or rheumatism</p> +<p class="i2">Leading to balm or sinapism?</p> +<p>Doth influenza pass thee by?</p> +<p>Hast never cold or bloodshot eye</p> +<p>Like ordinary Christian folk</p> +<p class="i2">Who sit in draughts against their will</p> +<p class="i2">And pray they'll not be ill?</p> +<p>Even in tunnels (this is past a joke)</p> +<p>Thou car'st no rap</p> +<p>Nor, as a decent man would, pull'st the strap,</p> +<p>But lett'st the carriage fill with smoke</p> +<p>Till all but thou must choke.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Why art thou anti-social thus,</p> +<p>Why dost thou differ so from us?</p> +<p>Thou pig! thou hippopotamus!</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>I don't pretend to be satisfied with +these lines. They are not strong, not +complete. Mr. <span class="sc">Joynson-Hicks</span> would +have done it more fittingly. Still +they might do a little good somewhere, +and every little helps.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Overtime.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"The evidence was that defendants employed +six young persons for more than seven +days a week."—<i>Provincial Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The organist played as opening voluntaries +the 'Bridal March' from 'Lohengrin,' +Barnaby's 'Bridal March' from 'Lohengrin,' +and Barnaby's 'Bridal March.'"</p> + +<p><i>Provincial Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>It was evidently <span class="sc">Barnaby</span>'s. Still, we +think <span class="sc">Wagner</span> might have been mentioned +as his collaborator.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"In the current number of the <i>Commonwealth</i> +Canon Scott Holland in his own +inimical manner endorses all that Mr. Carey +has been writing in our columns recently."</p> + +<p><i>Clerical Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>The Canon appears to be one of those +jolly people who slap you on the back +as if they would knock you down.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" id="page134"></a>[pg 134]</span> + +<h2>AT THE FRONT.</h2> + +<p>Of recent days we have almost +stopped pretending to be soldiers and +owned up to being civilian labourers +lodged in the War zone. This is felt +so acutely that several leading privates +have quite discarded that absolute +attribute of the infantryman, the rifle. +They return from working parties +completely unarmed, discover the fact +with a mild and but half-regretful +astonishment and report the circumstance +to section-commanders as if +they had lost one round of small arms +ammunition or the last cube from an +iron ration.</p> + +<p>The hobby of the civilian labourer +is obstacle-racing. To do this you +require a dark night, the assistance of +some Royal Engineers, an appointment +just behind the front line with +some supervisor of labour whom you +don't know and don't specially want +to, and a four-mile stretch across +country to the rendezvous.</p> + +<p>You start out at nightfall and do +good time over the first hundred yards. +The field consists of forty to eighty +labourers, and one of the idle rich (formerly +styled officers). At the hundred +yards' mark the Royal Engineers begin +to come in. Obstacle 1 is a model +trench, built for instructional purposes +and now being turned to +obstructional account. There's one +place where you can get on to the +parades without swimming, and if we +started by daylight we might strike +it. We do not start by daylight.</p> + +<p>Beyond the trench is a wire entanglement, +also a fine specimen of early +1915 R.E. work. We may note in +passing the trip wire eight yards +beyond. We're getting pretty good +with it now, but in our early days the +R.E. used to get a lot of marks for it.</p> + +<p>You go on towards a couple of moated +hedges, whimsically barbed in odd +spots, and emerge into a park or open +space leading into an unhealthy-looking +road. It seems all plain sailing to +the road—unless you know the R.E., +in which case you will not be surprised +to find your neck nearly bisected +by a horizontal wire designed to encourage +telephonic communication.</p> + +<p>Eventually you all reach an area +known for some obscure reason—if for +any at all—as "The Brigade." Here +the R.E. have a new game waiting for +you. We call it "Hunt the Shovels." +You have been instructed to draw +shovels from the Brigade. The term +covers a space of some thousand square +metres intersected with hedges, bridges, +rivers, dugouts, horseponds (natural +and adventitious), any square metre of +which may contain your shovels.</p> + +<p>If you are not behind time so far +this is where you drop a quarter of an +hour. Of course you may just get fed +up and go home. But in that case you +aren't allowed to play again, and as a +matter of fact the game is rather <i>de +rigueur</i> out here. So you hide your +party behind a sign-post, which tells +you—if it were not too dark to read—<span class="sc">Infantry +Must Not Halt Here</span>, +and then a lance-corporal with a good +nose for shovels looks through the more +likely hiding-places. The search is +rendered pleasant as well as interesting +by the fact that all the Brigade +has been trodden into a morass by +months of shovel-hunting.</p> + +<p>Beyond the Brigade the obstacles +really begin. But if you use a revolver +freely for wire-cutting and rope your +party together—this prevents anyone +sitting down by the wayside to take +his boots off "because they draws that +bad"—you will reach the rendezvous +assigned to you within an hour of the +time assigned to you. At this point you +will learn that no guide has been seen +or heard of there, and, subsequently, +that the guide was warned for another +square that certainly looks very similar +on the map. But again, if you +know guides, you will guess that he +went straight to the spot where the +job was to be done without bothering +about anything so intricate or superfluous +as a rendezvous. Anyhow you +will probably end by getting some sort +of casual labour somewhere, some time +or other, and no questions asked so +long as you don't inadvertently dig +through from a main drain into a +C.O.'s dugout.</p> + +<p>There is a new joke too, a Red Book, +out of which we are gradually becoming +millionaires. It is full of comfortable +claims and allowances for gentlemen +serving the <span class="sc">King</span> overseas. The +only thing is it takes a bit of working +out. There are so many channels of +enrichment. Thus in June—I forget +the exact date—I spent a night in the +train. Although I had a bed and beer +in bottles all the way from England, +not to mention usual meals and part +use of doctor, I became entitled to one +franc ten centimes in lieu of something +which I have now forgotten. (Authority, +W.O. Letter 2719.) +Then a broken revolver is worth no +less than seventy-two shillings, but I +have to collect autographs to get that +Unclaimed groom's allowance—I don't +think my groom has claimed it—comes +to nearly four-and-sixpence; and I find +I have been quite needlessly getting +my hair cut at my own expense these +many months.</p> + +<p>And yet I am afraid that when +have made it all out and got a chartered +accountant to account for it—that +ought to mean a few pounds +Chartered Accountant allowance—my +application will be returned to me +because the envelope is not that shade +of mauve officially ordained for the +enclosure of Overseas Officers' Claims.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>TO "LIFE" OF NEW YORK.</h2> + +<p>(<i>In acknowledgment of its "John Bull +Number."</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>In earlier peaceful days your attitude</p> +<p>Was witty and satirical and shrewd,</p> +<p>But, whether you were serious or skittish,</p> +<p>Always a candid critic of things British,</p> +<p>Though, when you were unable to admire us,</p> +<p><i>Life's</i> "little ironies" were free from virus.</p> +<p>But since the War began your English readers</p> +<p>Have welcomed <span class="sc">Martin</span>'s admirable leaders—</p> +<p>Which prove that all that's honest, clean and wise</p> +<p>In the United States is pro-Allies—</p> +<p>And learned to recognise in <i>Life</i> a friend</p> +<p>On whom to reckon to the bitter end.</p> +<p>But these good services you now have crowned</p> +<p>By something finer, braver, more profound—</p> +<p>Your "John Bull Number," where we gladly trace</p> +<p>Pride in the common glories of our race,</p> +<p>Goodwill, good fellowship, kind words of cheer,</p> +<p>So frank, so unmistakably sincere,</p> +<p>That we can find (in <span class="sc">Artemus's</span> phrase)</p> +<p>No "slopping over" of the pap of praise,</p> +<p>But just the sort of message that one brother</p> +<p>Would send in time of trial to another.</p> +<p>And thus, whatever comes of <span class="sc">Wilson</span>'s Notes,</p> +<p>Of Neutral claims or of the tug for votes,</p> +<p>Nothing that happens henceforth can detract</p> +<p>From your fraternal and endearing act,</p> +<p>Which fills your cup of kindness brimming full,</p> +<p>And signals <i>Sursum corda</i> to John Bull.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>(<i>The War Week by Week, as seen from New +York. Being Observations from "Life."</i> By +E.S. <span class="sc">Martin</span>.)</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The Chairman said he should like to +appeal to the good sense of the inhabitants +of Duffield, through the Press, to do all they +could to darken their windows not only at +the front of the houses, but also at the back.</p> + +<p>The Clerk said the Council had no power +to take action in this matter only by persuasion, +and it was decided that 500 leaflets +should be distributed by the lamplighters to +each house."—<i>Derbyshire Advertiser.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>And with pulp so expensive, too!</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" id="page135"></a>[pg 135]</span> + +<h3>MR. PUNCH'S POTTED FILMS. THE PLAY WITH A MORAL.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/135a.png"><img width="100%" src="images/135a.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Characters in the Play.</i></p> +<p><span class="sc">Nancy Primrose. Richard Grenfield. Vera Vavasour.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/135b.png"><img width="100%" src="images/135b.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Richard Grenfield, leaving his native village to seek +his fortune in London, bids adieu to Nancy Primrose, his +rustic sweetheart. He swears to be true to her</span>.</p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/135c.png"><img width="100%" src="images/135c.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Arrived in London, Richard speedily plunges into +the gay life of the great Metropolis. He makes the +acquaintance of Vera Vavasour, the famous actress and +leader of the Smart Set. He entertains her to tea at +the Fitz Hotel</span>.</p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/135d.png"><img width="100%" src="images/135d.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><span class="sc">In the meantime, all Nancy's relations having died, +she is thrown upon her own resources, and obtains a +situation as kitchenmaid at the Fitz. From a place +of concealment she watches, with dismay, the false +behaviour of her former lover</span>.</p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/135e.png"><img width="100%" src="images/135e.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><span class="sc">Richard, whose previous incursions into society had not +led him higher than A.B.C. shops, is unable to meet the +bill. Vera reveals herself in her true colours and +refuses to offer monetary assistance. The irate manager +threatens to call in the police. Nancy to the rescue!</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/135f.png"><img width="100%" src="images/135f.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Nancy, having with her hard-earned savings discharged +the bill, is clasped to his breast by Richard, who then +and there abjures the Smart Set and makes stern resolve +never again to fall a victim to "the Lure of London.</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" id="page136"></a>[pg 136]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/136.png"><img width="100%" src="images/136.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Lieutenant</i>. "<span class="sc">Nobody hurt? Then what the deuce +are you kicking up such a row for</span>?"</p> + +<p><i>Tommy.</i> "<span class="sc">Well, Sir, look at the mess they bloomin' 'Uns 'ave +made in the trench just after I've swep' it up!"</span> </p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>MUSICAL JUMBOMANIA.</h2> + +<blockquote><p> +"The piano with a thirty-foot keyboard, +forty-five octaves, and five hundred and +twenty-two keys, which Mr. Alfred Butt will +'present' in 'Follow the Crowd' at the +Empire Theatre, is now in course of construction. +Six pianists will play it, and Mr. +Irving Berlin, the composer of 'Watch Your +Step,' is composing some special melodies for +them."—<i>Sunday Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>The new Bombastophone which the +Titanola Company are constructing for +Mr. Boomer, the famous War lecturer, +is approaching completion. This remarkable +instrument, which roughly +resembles a double-bassoon, stands +about 45 feet high, and has a compass +of 500 octaves, from the low B flat <i>in +profundissimo</i> to the high G on the +Doncaster St. Leger line. The use +that Mr. Boomer makes of the Bombastophone +is very original and effective. +Whenever he sees that the attention of +his audience is flagging he introduces +an interlude of "bombination," which +renders lethargy impossible and exercises +an indescribably stimulating effect +on the tympanum. The current of air +is supplied by a bellows operated by an +eight-cylinder Brome engine, but Mr. +Boomer works the keys himself, climbing +up and down them with a rapidity +which must be seen to be appreciated.</p> + +<p>Another instrument which is expected +to work a revolution in the realm +of sonority is the Clumbungo Drum, +on which Mr. Wackford Bumpus +will shortly give a recital at the Albert +Hall. The drum, which is made of +teak and rhinoceros hide, is three +hundred feet in circumference, but only +twenty feet high, and the drumsticks +are of proportionate length. As Dr. +Blamphin, the eminent aurist, remarks, +"The merit of the notes of this momentous +instrument is their profound sincerity. +They cannot be disregarded even +by the most absent-minded auditor."</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>HINTS FOR AIR RAIDS.</h2> + +<p>The War Office have issued a notice +reminding the public that they are +greatly inconvenienced by persons who +telephone for information during the +progress of an air raid. To avoid a +repetition of the trouble the attention +of the public is called to the following +information:—</p> + +<p>(1) Elderly ladies may deposit their +lap dogs in the bomb-proof shelter +erected for that purpose in the basement +of the War Office buildings at Whitehall, +a charge of one penny per dog +per raid being made.</p> + +<p>(2) Persons removed from the interior +of motor omnibuses by the +explosion of bombs dropped by airships +cannot claim from the Government a +refund of the fares paid by them.</p> + +<p>(3) Persons having reason to believe +that an air raid is in progress are +requested to put on their hats before +leaving the house, as it has been +ascertained that a hard hat is a substantial +protection against falling Zeppelins.</p> + +<p>(4) For the benefit of editors and +others who are dissatisfied with the +precautions taken to cope with the +Zeppelin peril, Messrs. Selfgrove & Co. +announce that their new Strafing Room +will shortly be open to the public.</p> + +<p>(5) As the force of a bomb explosion +is largely in an upward direction, those +in the immediate vicinity of a dropping +bomb are advised to assume a recumbent +position, in which they will enjoy +the added advantage of being indistinguishable +from the pavement.</p> + +<p>(6) As theatre audiences are notoriously +subject to panic, actor-managers +are earnestly requested to prepare +beforehand some suitable jest with +which, in the event of a bomb entering +the theatre, the attention of the audience +may be distracted.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" id="page137"></a>[pg 137]</span> + +<h3>A BLOW FOR THE CRESCENT.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/137.png"><img width="100%" src="images/137.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Sultan of Turkey.</span> "ALL-HIGHEST, ERZERUM HAS FALLEN!"</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Kaiser.</span> "GOTT—I SHOULD SAY, <i>ALLAH</i>—STRAFE RUSSLAND!"</p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" id="page138"></a>[pg 138]</span> + +<h2>UNDERGROUND GAME.</h2> + +<p>It was four o'clock on a wet wintry +morning.</p> + +<p>Captain Blank executed an inadvertent +double-shuffle on a greasy +trench plank and wondered vaguely +why the rain should <i>always</i> come from +the north-east. Presently a figure +squelched up to him and halted.</p> + +<p>"'Tis Sergeant O'Hagan, Sorr," it +whispered hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sergeant, what is it?"</p> + +<p>"'Tis the sintry at Fosse 19, Sorr. +He's reported quare noises in that +inimy sap beyant."</p> + +<p>"Been dreaming, I expect," muttered +the Captain, and then added briskly, +"I think I'll have a listen myself. Go +ahead, Sergeant."</p> + +<p>They made their way slowly along +the uneven trench, past silent figures +reclining in various attitudes of ease or +discomfort; past emplacements where +machine-guns and trench-mortars +were innocently sleeping (with one eye +always open) or being overhauled by +an expert night-nurse. Eventually, +by that instinct common to trench-dwellers +and professional poachers, +they found themselves at Fosse 19, +and with superlative caution crept up +to the sentry.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?" whispered the +Captain tersely.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sir," replied Private Blobbs, +"I was standin' 'ere on listenin' duty, +when I 'ears somethink movin' very +contagious, so I pops up me 'ead to +'ave a peep. Didn't see nothink, but I +'ears a pecooliar noise like——There +y'are, Sir."</p> + +<p>He broke off abruptly, and, borne +upon the wind, came a series of guttural +murmurs.</p> + +<p>"Now wouldn't ut give one a quare +shtart, that?" remarked Sergeant +O'Hagan, <i>sotto voce</i>.</p> + +<p>"Um-m," said the Captain thoughtfully. +"I think Mr. Hamilton had +better have a look round."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later, having invaded +the privacy of "Whortleberry Villa," +he was relentlessly prodding a bundle +of waterproofs.</p> + +<p>"Come on, young fella!" he exclaimed +when the bundle showed signs +of life; "bombin' party forward. +Brother Bosch is playin' the piccolo +just outside Fosse 19."</p> + +<p>The Subaltern scrambled out of his +wraps and, with incredible dispatch, +gathered together the Davids of his +section. "All guaranteed," so he +boasted, "to hit the cocoanut every +time."</p> + +<p>Accoutred with their infernal +machines, the little band of hope +passed along the trench as silently as +a party of Fenimore Cooper's North-American +Indians.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they're at home right +enough," muttered the Subaltern, after +a cramped interval of breathless attention, +"and fairly asking for it."</p> + +<p>He proceeded to make his dispositions +with the skill and assurance of +an old hand. He was nearly nineteen.</p> + +<p>"We're going to stalk 'em this +time," he whispered to the men; "you +keep on crawling till I say 'Go!' +Then drop it on them quick."</p> + +<p>He slid over the parapet like an eel +and disappeared into the night. In a +few moments the sentry was alone in +the trench. His state of mind was, +from sheer excitement, almost insupportable.</p> + +<p>After what seemed interminable +hours, at last he heard the clear word +of command, the clatter of things +falling and the immediate roar of the +explosions. In reply, rifle fire began +to break out along the German first +trenches, whilst, overhead, a star-shell +burst into blossom; then the stutter of +machine-guns joined in the chorus. +The sentry flattened himself like a +poultice against the side of the trench. +Fosse 19 had, among other disadvantages, +the reputation of being open to +enfilading by machine-gun fire.</p> + +<p>The disturbance died away as quickly +as it had arisen, but there were no +indications that the bombing party +was returning. Private Blobbs danced +with futile impatience and bent his +head to the approved angle of the +expert listener. Suddenly a heavy +body took him in the nape of the +neck.</p> + +<p>"Ow!" he exclaimed, floundering in +mud and water with an unseen and +inconceivable presence. He clutched +the nightmare of an ear and kicked +violently.</p> + +<p>"Look aht, Percy," enjoined a +hollow but reassuring voice, "'ere +comes another!"</p> + +<p>Private Blobbs removed himself with +remarkable agility.....</p> + +<p>"Good!" exclaimed the Subaltern +when he finally slid into the trench. +"This expedition hasn't quite come up +to expectations, but it's the nicest +family of pigs I've seen for some +time."</p> + +<p>He flashed an electric torch on to +the disordered carcasses.</p> + +<p>"Corporal Leary," he added incisively, +"will you kindly see that the +officers' mess is served with fresh +pork?"</p> + +<p>He snapped out the torch and, complete +master of the situation, started +on the return journey to "Whortleberry +Villa."</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>BRINGING THE WAR HOME TO US.</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">Household Orders.</span></p> + +<p>By Mrs. <span class="sc">Emma Pipp</span>, Commanding +3rd (Home Service) Battalion, The Fire +Guards. February 21st, 1916.</p> + +<blockquote><p> +<i>Detail</i>. Orderly Officer .... <i>Mary Ann</i>. + Next for duty.... <i>Sarah Jane</i>. + Charwoman of the day. . <i>Mrs. Susanna Sudds</i>. +</p></blockquote> + +<blockquote><p> +<i>Parade.</i> 9.30 Shopping march under the Commanding +Officer. Haversacks (for rations) will +be carried.</p> + +<p><i>Inspection.</i> 12.0 O.C. Pantry will inspect all +beetle-traps in her charge, and report if +No. 13 (Kitchener pattern) has been found.</p> + +<p><i>Decrease Strength.</i> No. 4 Master T. Pipp, +attached to Sea View House School, +Boyton, for discipline.</p> + +<p><i>Promotion.</i> The Commanding Officer is pleased +to approve of the following promotions:—Under-housemaid +Mary Jane, to be +Acting-Sergeant Housemaid; Miss Jones, +Lady Nurse, to be Nursery Governess.</p> + +<p><i>Leave.</i> No. 1 Father Pipp granted six days' +leave, inclusive of two days for travelling. +Credit with six days' ration allowance at +1s. 9d. per diem.</p> + +<p><i>Baths.</i> Baths will be available for the nursery +on Saturday evening from 6 to 7. O.C. +Nursery will report that they have been +taken.</p> + +<p><i>Signalling.</i> The Commanding Officer is pleased +to announce that at the Fortnightly Course +of Glad Eye Signalling, No. 2 Gertie +Pipp gained a Flapper's Certificate.</p> + +<p><i>Enquiry.</i> A Court of Enquiry will assemble +on the 25th inst. for the purpose of enquiring +into the circumstances whereby the +wheel of No. 3 Perambulator became +buckled on the 12th inst.</p> + +<p>O.C. Nursery will arrange for the +presence of the necessary witnesses, with +the exception of No. 9 Baby Pipp, now +teething.</p> + +<p><i>General Inspection.</i> On the 1st prox., Uncle-General +Towzer, L.S.D., will hold an +inspection of nephews and nieces at +5 o'clock on the front parade lawn.</p> + +<p><i>Dress:</i> Best bibs and tuckers, with +smiles. +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<h3>A Hint for Slackers.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"Drilling versus Broad-Casting Oats."</p> + +<p><i>Scotsman.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The British Tropical Committee for War +Films exhibited a further series of pictures of +the British Army in France at the West-end +Cinema House, Coventry-street, yesterday."</p> + +<p><i>The Times.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Very hot stuff, no doubt!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>From a description of Sir <span class="sc">Samuel +Evans</span>' "<i>lit de justice</i>":—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Sir Samuel first heard one summons in +camera, and then took two months of a formal +nature, the time occupied being less than +half an hour."—<i>Morning Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>How time does fly when one's happy.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">Wanted</span>, Rehearse March 20, Comedian +and Chambermaid. Light Comedy (Refined +Part, capable Good Drunken Scene)."</p> + +<p><i>The Stage.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>This is what is meant, no doubt, when +people talk of "elevating" the drama.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" id="page139"></a>[pg 139]</span> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/139.png"><img width="100%" src="images/139.png" alt=""/></a><p>FIRST STEPS TO VICTORY: A LEAD FROM OUR LEADERS.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Striking example of war-time economy: Mr. Asquith and Mr. Mckenna +split a cigar</span>.</p></div> + +<p><i>Tuesday, February 15th.</i>—To the +regret of all loyal citizens, the curtain +rang up at Westminster to-day without +the now customary Royal Overture. +In the absence of <span class="sc">His Majesty</span>, the +<span class="sc">Lord Chancellor</span> delivered the brief +Speech from the Throne, expressing +the unalterable determination of the +British people and their Allies to defeat +the Power (name not given but possibly +conjecturable) "which mistakes force +for right and expediency for honour." +To emphasise the unity of the nation +the Address was moved by the Unionist +Earl of <span class="sc">Clarendon</span> and seconded by +the Liberal Lord <span class="sc">Muir-Mackenzie</span>. It +was agreed to in good time for dinner.</p> + +<p>The Commons are not so economical +of time. Mr. <span class="sc">Ian Macpherson</span>, who +moved the Address, made quite a long +speech. Like <i>Hamlet</i>, it was chiefly +composed of quotations, but they were +all quite apt, and as they ranged from +<span class="sc">Thucydides</span> to <span class="sc">Burke</span>, with <span class="sc">Bolingbroke</span>'s +<i>Patriot King</i> thrown in, they +pleased the House, which likes these +tributes to its erudition. The seconder, +in khaki, was Col. F. S. <span class="sc">Jackson</span>, a new +Member, who, like the still-lamented +<span class="sc">Alfred Lyttelton</span>, had made a reputation +at Lord's ere ever he essayed +the Commons. "Jacker" found the new +wicket not quite to his liking at first, +but afterwards scored freely. In congratulating +the outgoing batsman the +<span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> discovered unexpected +knowledge of cricket. "The Hon. Member," +he said, "was making his maiden +speech; but I doubt if he has ever +encountered a maiden over—except, +perhaps, when he was bowling."</p> + +<p>In the regretted absence of the Leader +of the Opposition, Mr. <span class="sc">Stuart-Wortley</span> +as Acting-<span class="sc">Chaplin</span> referred to the disintegration +of parties under the stress +of war. Now they had only groups, +some designed to help the Government, +some to "ginger" them. Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span> +dwelt upon the growing unity of control +among the Allies, which would +counteract the advantage in this respect +hitherto enjoyed by our foes; and +noted the amazing growth of the once +"contemptible little" British Army. +He further reminded us that we had +already incurred liabilities which it +would take us a generation to wipe out; +and it was the first duty of every patriotic +citizen to practise rigid economy.</p> + +<p>All very well, said, in effect, Mr. +<span class="sc">Wardle</span>, the new leader of the +Labour Party; but, if the working +classes are to save, the other classes +must set them the example. All very +well, said Sir <span class="sc">Mark Sykes</span>, but if we +are going to win the war we must co-ordinate +at home as well as abroad, and +abandon the idea of "muddling through." +With experience of G.H.Q. and four +public departments, he asserted that +the men were all right, but the system +all wrong; and that the proper thing +was to adopt <span class="sc">Sultan Omar's</span> plan, and +give the supreme control of the War to +a Cabinet of not more than four members, +who with no administrative details +to distract them might be able to "teach +the doubtful battle where to rage."</p> + +<p>The <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> listened with +interest but without enthusiasm to this +suggestion. Probably he remembered +that an essential part of <span class="sc">Omar</span>'s scheme +was that if the Four failed to agree +they were to be promptly hanged, and +had himself no ambition to take part +in a String Quartett.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, February 16th.</i>—The +Trustees of the British Museum are +for the most part grave and reverend +seniors. But they harbour at least one +humourist among them, in Captain +<span class="sc">Harry Graham</span>. I suspect him of +having conceived the notion of choosing +this moment, of all others, to frame a +petition to the House of Commons +praying for more money to enable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" id="page140"></a>[pg 140]</span> +them to fulfil their trust, and of getting +Mr. <span class="sc">Lulu Harcourt</span>, himself a member +of the Government which is closing +their galleries, to present it.</p> + +<p>Sir <span class="sc">Henry Dalziel</span> is the leader of +one of the "ginger groups" above +referred to. His first exploit in this +capacity was to resist the proposal of +the Government to take all the time of +the House. In his demand that private +Members should still be allowed the +privilege of introducing Bills and having +them printed at the public expense, +he had the support of Mr. <span class="sc">Hogge</span>, +Mr. <span class="sc">King</span>, Mr. <span class="sc">Pringle</span>, Mr. <span class="sc">Booth</span>, +Sir <span class="sc">William Byles</span>, and other statesmen +of similar eminence; but the <span class="sc">Prime +Minister</span> was obdurate. He accused +the malcontents of lacking a sense of +perspective—and expressed the poorest +opinion of their efforts at legislation.</p> + +<p>Some of the private Members got +their own back when the first amendment +to the Address was moved by +Mr. <span class="sc">Joynson-Hicks</span>. The Member for +Brentford, who knows the alphabet of +aviation from Aeroplane to Zeppelin, +complained that the air-service, like his +own constituency in legendary times, +was under Dual Control, and urged +that it should be placed under a single +competent chief.</p> + +<p>Neither the <span class="sc">Under-Secretary for +War</span> nor the <span class="sc">First Lord of the Admiralty</span> +was at all happy in reply. They +resembled a couple of flying pilots who, +having gone up to attack a hostile airship +in the dark, search in vain for an +adequate landing-place. Heckled as to +the exact status of Sir <span class="sc">Percy Scott</span>, +for example, Mr. <span class="sc">Tennant</span> could only +say that he "is still in the position he +<i>was</i> in." When Mr. <span class="sc">Ellis Griffith</span> +ventured the remark that a personal +knowledge of flying would be a useful +qualification for officers advising the +Government on this subject, Mr. <span class="sc">Balfour</span> +was as painfully surprised as if +he himself had been called upon to +navigate a.t.b.d. in heavy weather.</p> + +<p>In the absence of any definite sign of +repentance the critics of the Government +threatened a division, which +would have been awkward and might +have been disastrous. In similar circumstances +Mr. <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> used to +"send for the sledge-hammer"—meaning +Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span>. The present <span class="sc">Prime +Minister</span>, when hard pressed, sends +for <span class="sc">Bonar</span>. Thus summoned to ride +the whirlwind the <span class="sc">Colonial Secretary</span> +executed a graceful volplane. In a few +frank sentences he admitted that the +Government were very far from being +satisfied with the Air Service, though it +had achieved great things. Further, they +were willing to give another day for its +discussion when they had got through +their financial business. With this confession +and promise the critics were +for the time being appeased.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, February 17th.</i>—This +being the first day for which Questions +could be put down, Members took full +advantage of the opportunity, and propounded +ninety-nine of them. Ministers +displayed less enthusiasm, and some of +them were so late in arriving that the +<span class="sc">Speaker</span> had to dodge about all over +the paper before the list was disposed +of. Mr. <span class="sc">Ginnell</span> was, as usual, well +to the fore with silly rumours. There +is perhaps a subtle connection between +cattle-driving and hunting for mare's nests.</p> + +<p>The pleasantest feature of Question +time was the tribute paid (with hint of +more substantial rewards to come after +the War) to the gallantry and self-sacrifice +of the officers and men of our +mercantile marine. This furnished an +appropriate prelude to the subject of +the ensuing debate. Mr. <span class="sc">Peto</span> and +others sought to press upon the +Government the more economical use +of our merchant shipping. Here they +were forcing an open door. Steps have +already been taken to restrict the imports +of luxuries. Ministers are unanimous, +I believe, in regarding "ginger," +for instance, as an article whose importation +might profitably be curtailed.</p> +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/140.png"><img width="100%" src="images/140.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Highlander and Zouave</span> (<i>simultaneously</i>): "!!!"</p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" id="page141"></a>[pg 141]</span> + +<h3>ECONOMY AT THE CINEMA DE LUXE.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/141.png"><img width="100%" src="images/141.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Mrs. Jones (completing her fourth Hour</i>). "<span class="sc">I +used to stay only two hours; but one 'as to make threepence go further +these days</span>."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>HIGHLAND HOSPITALITY.</h2> + +<p>It happened in Scotland—it couldn't +have happened anywhere else.</p> + +<p>I had been visiting the MacNeils. +They sympathised over my wound; they +rallied round with tea and toast; they +provided Scotch whisky. My one objection +to the family was their supreme +confidence in these new-fledged lads +of the Home Defence, whom I—as a +Subaltern of the old school who had +done my time at Sandhurst before the +War—scorned with a dogged contempt +which no degree of argument could kill.</p> + +<p>It was when I reached the street +that I realised that fervid fire in the +soul of Scotch hospitality—a fire which +brands it as unique in our island story. +In my coat pocket reposed a bottle of +Heather Dew.</p> + +<p>The convalescent home where I was +being wooed back to brisk health was +situated along the sea-front. Chuckling +at the MacNeils' efforts to modify my +views of our Home Defenders and their +inefficiency, and brooding on the folks' +kind hearts, I paused to light a +cigarette. The wind blew out the +fluttering flame. It also set me sneezing, +for I had a bad cold in the head. +I struck another match.</p> + +<p>"Hey!" said a voice suddenly behind +me. I swerved, choking back a sneeze. +"Hey, hey, hey!" some broad Doric +tongue continued.</p> + +<p>A heavy hand came plump on my +shoulder; a large Highland face was +pushed into mine; a kilt flapped round +long bare shanks. I sneezed again.</p> + +<p>"Got ye this time, lad!" announced +the son of the North, who now appeared +to be a brawny lance-corporal. "Signallin' +ye are. Oot to sea. Ah saw ye +blinkin' wi' a licht."</p> + +<p>I sneezed again. "I was'd!" I +declared as well as the cold in my +head would allow. "It was a batch. +I've dever sigdalled id by life. You're +wrog—quite wrog!"</p> + +<p>He gripped me firmly by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Dinna tell me!" he announced in +conclusive tones. "Ah ken better! +Ye're the second spy Ah've cotched. +Come along, ma freend Fritz! Ye'll +hae the job o' explainin' to the Colonel +whaur ye got that second-lootenant's +uniform."</p> + +<p>Hunching his rifle over his shoulder, +he marched me back the way I had +come.</p> + +<p>"Where are you takig be to?" I +enquired thickly. "Take be to your +Cobbadig Officer at wudce. I wad to +egsplaid!"</p> + +<p>"Ah'll hae nane o' your clavers," +he said shortly. "Ye're for the gaird-room. +Dinna tell ma ye're no a German +wi' a tongue like yon!"</p> + +<p>"I've god a gold id by head!" I +shouted at him. "I'b dot a Gerbud! +I'b Lieutedad Dobsod——"</p> + +<p>"Haud yer tongue. Ye're a Chooton. +An' ye're cotched. That's flat."</p> + +<p>I was bundled into a draughty cattle-shed. +The door was slammed. I +sneezed. It was a bright prospect. I +changed my views on the inefficiency +of our Home Defenders. They now +appealed to me as violently efficient. +A night in a tumble-down cow-house! +Desolation! Then I brightened up: +the MacNeils' whisky. The cork +popped in the silence of the night.</p> + +<p>The door opened. A sentry's head +was poked round. Disregarding him, +I raised the bottle to my chattering +teeth. Then the lance-corporal +appeared. With a sudden thought I +offered him the bottle. A strange look +crept across his face. Gingerly he took +the bottle. Then there was a comfortable +sound. He drew a hand across +his mouth.</p> + +<p>"That's grrand," he said. "Beg +pardon, Sir. It's been ma mistake. +Jock, the prisoner is a Scottish officer. +Let him gang.... Thank ye, Sir; +thank ye for the whisky."</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The Germans ... a whole company +being decimated, the only survivors, a captain +and seventy men, surrendering."</p> + +<p><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>This indication that the normal strength +of a German company is now only 79 +is welcome news.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The air defence of London is now practically +under the control of the home forces, of +which Lord French is Commander-in-Chief, +and Admiral Lord French is Commander-in +Chief, and Admiral the gunnery defences of +London."—<i>Provincial Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>So now we're all right.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The spectacle of the snow-clad trees on the +London Road, and in other suburban districts, +was pleasant to the eye, although it made +walking a trifle difficult."—<i>Leicester Mail.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>It is our habit to discourage the +dangerous practice of tree-gazing while +in motion.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" id="page142"></a>[pg 142]</span> + +<h2>ONCE UPON A TIME.</h2> + +<h3>The Miracle.</h3> + +<p>Once upon a time there was one +Herbert. The doctor being unwilling to +pass him so that there was no chance +that he, in the words of the great joke, +would "march too," he had taken a +situation as a waiter.</p> + +<p>Englishmen (it is an axiom) do not +make good waiters; nor was he an +exception. But he was conscientious +and painstaking, although clumsy and +of short memory. Still, this +was war-time, and Hans had +gone to Germany and might +now be dead, and Fritz very +properly was interned, and Josef +had sought Vienna once more, +and Pasquale and Giuseppe had +rejoined the Italian flag, and the +only foreigners left were a few +nondescripts, very volubly, indeed +almost passionately, of +Swiss nationality. In fact, if +this War has done nothing else +it has at least established the +fact that the male population of +Switzerland is far greater than +any one had supposed. Gallant +little Switzerland!</p> + +<p>So you see this was Herbert's +chance, and the manager was +glad to get him; and Herbert, +who, owing to the slump in +games, had lost his job at an +athletic sports factory and had +certain financial liabilities which +he had long since abandoned +any hope of meeting, was glad +to come. Only, by infinite self-denial +and sacrifice did he get +together the necessary capital +for his clothes and the deposit +demanded from waiters against +breakages, theft and so forth.</p> + +<p>On his first day as one in +charge of three or four tables +Herbert made some very serious +mistakes. He was complained +of for slowness, he turned over +a sauce-boat, he broke a glass, and +he forgot to charge for the cigar which +the portly gentleman in the corner had +taken after his lunch. And this cigar +was a half-crown Corona, for the portly +gentleman either had not yet grasped +the full meaning of War economy or +was enjoying one of those periodical +orgies to which even rigid economist +think themselves to be entitled.</p> + +<p>Already Herbert had, like <i>Alnaschar</i> +in the Eastern tale, spent imagination +far more than he could make all the +week, and this blow, with the manager's +abuse to serve as salt in the wound, +sent him home in misery. Nor was +it as if the portly gentleman was a +regular customer who could be reminded +of the error (little as such +reminding is to the taste of regular +customers); on the contrary, he had +never been known to visit the restaurant +before. You see, then, how unhappily +Herbert viewed life as he +lay awake in his attic that night, +and very heavy were his feet on his +way to work the next day, with an +overcoat buttoned up to his neck to +hide his evening dress.</p> + +<p>It was a cold rainy morning; the +wind raged; and the very indifferent +soles of Herbert's boots absorbed moisture +like blotting-paper. Everything +was against him. There was not a +gleam of hope in the future, not a ray +of light. His companions were surly, +the manager was venomous, the bitter +rain fell on. He was in debt and would +get the sack.</p> + +<p>It was then that the miracle happened. +Suddenly Herbert, who was +gazing forlornly through the window +at this disconsolate world, waiting, +napkin on his arm, to begin to wait, +heard a voice saying, "I'm afraid you +forgot to charge me for my cigar yesterday." +It was the portly gentleman. +Life was not utterly hopeless any +more.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:40%;"><a href="images/142.png"><img width="100%" src="images/142.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Old Lady</i>, "<span class="sc">Ah, it'll take more than preaching +to make them Zeppelins repent</span>!"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE BEST AIR "MINISTER."</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Who shall be Lord of the Air,</p> +<p>Now N. has seen fit to declare,</p> +<p>To his followers' deep despair,</p> +<p>That he can't conscientiously sit</p> +<p>In a Cabinet void of grit?</p> +<p>For <span class="sc">Churchill</span> is tied to the Front,</p> +<p>And <span class="sc">Markham</span> is out of the hunt,</p> +<p>And eloquent <span class="sc">Bernard Vaughan</span></p> +<p>From his pulpit can't be withdrawn.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Who shall be Lord of the Air</p> +<p>And take us all under his care?</p> +<p>Why, <span class="sc">Robertson Nicoll</span>, of course—</p> +<p>A man of colossal force,</p> +<p>With a perfectly splendid gift</p> +<p>For soaring and moral uplift.</p> +<p>For, though nobody so uniquely</p> +<p>Can hearten <i>The British Weekly</i>,</p> +<p>His readers will cheerfully spare</p> +<p>Him to go and remain in the air,</p> +<p>Careering along the inane</p> +<p>In a Nicoll-plated plane</p> +<p>With, to lend him additional fervour,</p> +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">G*rv*n</span> as his "Observer."</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>The Mule's Parentage.</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">The Best Thing Yet Said of +the 22.</span></p> + +<blockquote><p> +Mr. Gibson Bowles, at the City +blockade meeting, on the Coalition: +"The Government did not swop +horses. They made an alliance with +another animal; and the result is a +mule without pride of ancestry or hope +of posterity."—<i>Evening News.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Incidentally the unkindest thing +that has yet been said of the +Unionists who joined the late +Ministry.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"There were further indications at +the meeting of the Salop County +Council on Saturday of the Council's +desire to economise where possible. +Dr. McCarthy drew attention to +figures given in the report of the +County Medical Officer of Health +showing a diminution in the birth-rate +of the county for the quarter to +the extent of 14 per cent."</p> + +<p><i>Wellington Journal.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Economy of any kind is praiseworthy, +but we think they might have begun +with one of the other rates.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The domestic income of a more or less +typical three-roomed cottage near the docks +is at present £17 per week. Among the +recent purchases of the family, a pianoforte, +costing £50, may be enumerated, although +no one in the house can play a note. This +looks more wasteful than the common outlay +on gramophones, which at least give pleasure. +The idea of sound investment is slow in penetration +among the suddenly affluent in wages."</p> + +<p><i>Liverpool Daily Post and Mercury.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We dislike carping, but surely a piano +is always a sound investment.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page143" id="page143"></a>[pg 143]</span> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<p>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</p> + +<p>In fiction it is certainly true that nothing succeeds like +success. There is a sure and very understandable charm in +a story of climbing fortunes. Therefore it may be that part +of my pleasure in <i>Tasker Jevons</i> (<span class="sc">Hutchinson</span>) was due to +sympathy with the upward progress of its hero. But much +more was certainly due to the art with which Miss <span class="sc">May +Sinclair</span> has written about it. <i>Tasker Jevons</i> is a book, +and a character, that will linger pleasantly in my memory. +He was a little man with a great personality, or rather I +will say a great purpose, and that was to approve himself +in the eyes of the wife whom he worshipped, and her perplexed, +slightly contemptuous family. The trouble was that +<i>Tasker</i> was in the beginning a hack journalist, socially and +personally impossible; and that <i>Viola Thesiger</i>, whom he +married, belonged by birth to the rigidest circle of Cathedral +society (Miss <span class="sc">Sinclair</span>, scorning subterfuge, calls it quite +openly Canterbury). So you see the difficulties that beset +the <i>Jevons</i> pair. Their story is told here, very effectively, +through the mouth of a third person, a fellow-journalist and +admirer of <i>Jevons</i>—but quite respectable—the rejected +suitor of <i>Viola</i>, and eventually the husband of her sister. +Through his clever and observant eyes we watch the +progress of <i>Jevons</i>, see him prospering materially, becoming +famous and rich and vulgarized. It is an unusually close +and rather subtle study of the development of such a +man. Eventually there happens that for which the date, +Midsummer 1914, will have prepared you, even if you +had forgotten that Miss <span class="sc">Sinclair</span> had herself served in +Belgium with a field ambulance. So the end of the book +gives us some vivid War pictures. Taking it all round, I +am inclined to consider <i>Tasker Jevons</i> the best of the 1916 +novels that has yet come my way.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>When, in the first chapter of <i>Moll Davis</i> (<span class="sc">Allen and +Unwin</span>), you find the heroine having a very pretty dispute +with the landlord of the Mischief Inn, and a gallant blade +of a fellow coming to her rescue, you will guess what fare +is to follow. And, provided that your taste is for diet of +the lightest, you will not be disappointed, for no one is +more capable than Mr. <span class="sc">Bernard Capes</span> of making it palatable. +Here we are then back in the year 1661, and in a +maze of intrigue. Wit, if we are to believe the novelist, was +as plentiful in those days as morals were scarce, and +Mr. <span class="sc">Capes</span> is not the man to spoil tradition for lack of +colour. He calls his book a comedy, but he should have +called it a comedy with an interlude; and the part I like +best is the interlude. Possibly because he was weary of +plots and counterplots he suddenly breaks loose, and with a +warning to those who have "an unconquerable repugnance +to sentiment" tells a moving tale that has nothing to do +with the main narrative. I can thank him unreservedly +for this, and for the crop of words which he has added +to my vocabulary. "Bingawast," "gingumbobs," and +"fubbs" have the right ring, and after a little training I +hope to use them with telling effect on my platoon.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page144" id="page144"></a>[pg 144]</span> + +<p><i>Edith Ottley</i> cherished a passion for <i>Aylmer Ross</i>; to +such an extent indeed that she came within an ace of +eloping with him. However, the ace wasn't played; and +in due course <i>Aylmer</i> went to the War and became a +captain. Unfortunately he also became much more interesting +by reason of a wound; and, when this brought him +back to England, the passion also returned, stronger than +ever. This, of course, is why their story is called <i>Love at +Second Sight</i> (<span class="sc">Grant Richards</span>). I have now a small +surprise for you, namely that <i>Edith</i> was already married, +and owned a charming house, a valetudinarian husband +and two pleasant children. So I quite expected that +<i>Aylmer</i>, in the fulness of time, would either (1) be removed +by the enemy, or (2) marry a delightful little Red-Cross +nurse who adored him. But the author, Mrs. <span class="sc">Leverson</span>, +had other views. Instead therefore of ending her heroine +in the expected mood of conventional reconciliation she +sends the objectionable husband off with somebody else, +and leaves us to a prospect of wedding-bells with the +divorce court as a preliminary. +Which is at least original. +But throughout I had the feeling +that a great deal of bright +and clever writing was being +wasted on a poor theme. The +characters are brilliantly suggested, +but—with perhaps +one exception, forgetful <i>Lady +Conroy</i>, who is an entire delight—they +seem altogether +unworthy of it. In fact I +came away from the book +with the impression of having +attended a gathering of somewhat +shoddily smart people, +and sat next to a clever woman +who had been witty about +them. The worst of the +matter is that they are all so +real. This is a tribute to the +author, but a most unpleasant +reflection for everyone else.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/144.png"><img width="100%" src="images/144.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">The Rector</span>. "<span class="sc">Well, William, you ought to be +proud and happy to know you have four sons serving their country with +His Majesty's Forces</span>."</p> + +<p><span class="sc">William</span>. "<span class="sc">I am proud and happy, Sir, but the old woman she +do fret somethin' terrible because none of 'em ain't got no Victoria +Cross yet</span>."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<p>My attention was first +attracted to <i>The New Dawn</i> +(<span class="sc">Long</span>) by the fact that the plot starts at Euston Station. +That interesting, not to say romantic, line, the L. & N. W. R., +is usually shunned by our novelists. But although +"<span class="sc">George Wovil</span>" takes his characters to the furthest North, +even beyond Glasgow, their sympathies, like, I think, those +of their creator, remain behind in fair and false and fickle +Wimbledon. This at least was where <i>Halvey Brown</i> +wished himself as the train glided over the best laid track +in Europe towards dour Bartocher. And <i>Brown</i>, though +he knew the natural drabness of his destination already, +had at that time no information as to all the unpleasing +events that were to happen there; that, for example, the +minister's new wife would turn out to be a lady with a past +that he himself had shared, or that the fair-haired young +man in the same compartment was the assistant minister, +who would fall in love with the said wife and eventually +slay her, the minister, and himself. I find I have been led +into betraying for you the outline of the story. Perhaps, however, +this does not greatly matter. The value of the book +lies in its very natural and human characters. All four +of them—there are only four who really matter—are admirably +drawn, so that the tragedy of their lives holds and +convinces you. My complaints against the author are, first, +the excess of emphasis that he gives to the physical unpleasantness +of his background; secondly, the loose construction +that allows the tale to be continually turning back to look +behind it. He would keep a lover in the act of embracing +the lady of his heart while he explains what the parents of +each died of, and all that has happened since. Still, <i>The +New Dawn</i> remains an unconventional and strongly written +story, which will certainly interest though perhaps hardly +enliven you.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>There is something very soothing in the peeps into dusty +family papers and the faint echoes of departed gossip which +Mrs. <span class="sc">Stirling</span> provides in <i>A Painter of Dreams</i> (<span class="sc">Lane</span>). +These pleasantly amateurish historical studies go back a +century and a half. A commonplace book from which are +quoted many diverting and incredible things; a chapter in +which those queer Radicals, <span class="sc">Horne Tooke, Cobbett</span>, Sir +<span class="sc">Francis Burdett</span> and bluff Squire <span class="sc">Bosville</span>, are chiefly +concerned; a sketch of the fourth Earl of <span class="sc">Albemarle</span>, +keen farmer and friend of <span class="sc">Coke</span> of Norfolk, Master of the +Horse to <span class="sc">William IV</span>. and +<span class="sc">Queen Victoria</span> (it is to +<span class="sc">Albemarle</span> in this capacity +that the <span class="sc">Iron Duke</span> said: +"The Queen can make you go +inside the coach, or outside +the coach, or run behind it +like a d——d tinker's dog"), +winner of the Ascot Gold Cup +three years running and stiff-backed +autocrat; an account +of the beautiful Misses <span class="sc">Caton</span> +of Baltimore and their matrimonial +adventures—the American +invasion of brides bringing +money and beauty in exchange +for titles thus dating back to +1816; some details of the lives +of two artists, <span class="sc">John Herring</span>, +animal painter, and <span class="sc">Roddam +Spencer Stanhope</span>, one of the +lesser pre-Raphaelites and the +painter of dreams referred to +in the title—these all make up +an agreeable pot-pourri with +an old-world fragrance which +ought to be able to charm you out of the preposterous +nightmare of the present. But it makes one feel old to +see that the conscientious author thinks that <span class="sc">Dicky Doyle</span> +now needs a footnote to let the present generation know +who he was.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>From the Catalogue of a V.T.C. Tailor.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"'I am,' a V.T.C. Secretary writes, 'in correspondence with the +undertaker, and hope at last to induce the War Office to recognise us +by sending a representative to attend our funeral rites.'" +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"One man of four who escaped the bombs."—<i>Morning Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>A little too old for the baby-killers.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +<span class="sc">"Lord Sumner on the Need for Self-Sacrifice.</span></p> + +<p>'If the House of Lords and the House of Commons could be taken +and thrown into a volcano every day the loss represented would be +less than the daily cost of the campaign.'"—<i>The Times.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>It sounds a drastic remedy, but might be worth trying.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Lemons, used largely for making demonade, have a medicinal +value."—<i>Daily Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We know nothing of the drinks popular in the lower +regions, but have always heard that the nectarines used +for making nectar have a strong tonic effect.</p> +<hr class="full" /> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 150, FEBRUARY 23, 1916***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 22697-h.txt or 22697-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/6/9/22697">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/6/9/22697</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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