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diff --git a/22941-h/22941-h.htm b/22941-h/22941-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf48b3c --- /dev/null +++ b/22941-h/22941-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2706 @@ +<!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, May 3, 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: 85%; } + --> + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 150, May +3, 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, May 3, 1916</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: Owen Seaman</p> +<p>Release Date: October 10, 2007 [eBook #22941]</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, MAY 3, 1916***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Jonathan Ingram, David King,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 150.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>May 3, 1916.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page289" id="page289"></a>[pg 289]</span> + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Sir Roger Casement</span>, it appears, +landed in Ireland from a collapsible +boat. And by a strange coincidence +his arrival synchronised with the outbreak +of a collapsible rebellion.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Hard soap can now be obtained in +Germany only by those who purchase +bread tickets. The soft variety cannot +be obtained at all, the whole supply, it +seems, having been commandeered by +the Imperial Government for export to +the United States.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>£175 worth of radium was lost last +week in Dundee. The ease with +which bar radium can be melted +down and remoulded in the form of +cheap jewellery affords, according to +the local police, a clear indication +that this was the work of thieves.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A conscientious objector has stated +that he had even given up fishing +on humanitarian grounds. We fear +that his fish stories may have caused +some fatal attacks of apoplexy among +his audiences.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>According to Sir <span class="sc">Thomas Barlow</span> +"the importation of bananas has +had a far-reaching effect on the +digestion of our children." Only +last Monday week the importation +of six bananas had just that kind of +effect on the digestion of our own +dear little Percy.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Portugal has decided to expel +German sympathisers of whatever +nationality. Other clubs please copy.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>From the Eastern Counties comes +news that in last week's Zeppelin +raid twenty turnips were "completely +destroyed." And so the grim +work of starving England into submission +goes relentlessly on.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"That boy there," said the <span class="sc">Lord +Mayor</span> at the Mansion House, in addressing +some children from an orphanage, +"can easily become a Lord Mayor." +Cases of this sort are really not hard +to diagnose when you are familiar with +the symptoms, and the <span class="sc">Lord Mayor</span> +had, of course, noticed the hearty +manner in which the lad was attacking +his food.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The latest Shakspearean discovery +announced by Sir <span class="sc">Sidney Lee</span> is that +the Bard was a successful man of +business; but the really nice people +who have lately taken him up have +resolved not to let the fact prejudice +them against him after all these years.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"Absence of the Polecat from Ireland" +is the title of a vigorous article +in the current number of <i>The Field</i>. +While agreeing in substance with the +writer, we cannot refrain from commenting +on this unexpected departure +of a peculiarly moderate organ from +its customary restraint in dealing with +the political questions of the day.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The Editor of <i>The Angler's News</i> +makes public the request that fishermen +will provide him with the particulars +of any exceptionally big fish +which they may catch. Strangely +enough he does not suggest that the +data should be accompanied, for purposes +of verification, by the fish themselves. +It is refreshing to know that +there is a man left here and there who +is not trying to make something out +of the War.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>One of the Zeppelins that recently +visited England dropped one hundred +bombs without causing a single casualty, +and a movement is on foot to present +the Commander with a pair of white +gloves.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"What I wish to show Mr. Norman," +says Mr. G. K. <span class="sc">Chesterton</span> in <i>The +New Witness</i>, "is that the fantastic +pursuit of the <i>idée fixe</i> ... leads to a +<i>reductio ad absurdum</i>." One has often +had occasion to notice the rapidity with +which a young <i>idée fixe</i> will dart down +a convenient <i>reductio ad absurdum</i> +when closely pursued.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A writer in the current number of +<i>The Fortnightly Review</i> has elaborated +the theory that the War can be won +without difficulty by breaking through +the German line in the West. It is +the ability to grasp these simple but +fundamental truths that distinguishes +the military genius from the War +Office hack.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The majority of the larger railways +have now announced their intention +of serving no more meals on trains. +While the reason has not been officially +stated the authorities are said to be of +the opinion that Zeppelins have on +several occasions been able to reach +important termini by following the +smell of cookery.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>The Perils of the Tyne.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"A ship's apprentice who attempted the +rescue of a man in shark-infested waters +to-day, at Newcastle, received the Shipping +Federation's diploma and medal."</p> + +<p><i>Morning Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<h3>The Infallible Experts.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"In general (continued Count Andrassy), +the battle has ceased to be of the nature +of a siege, as it was intended to be at the +beginning. It is a long-drawn-out and +deadly combat between the French and +German armies, and the victory of one +will undoubtedly be the defeat of the +other."—<i>Yorkshire Post.</i></p> + +<p>"It is a reasonable conclusion from +these facts that ... the principal attack, +supposing that it should actually have +taken place, has already been made."</p> + +<p><i>Col. <span class="sc">Feyler</span> in "The Sunday Times."</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Delphinium Hybrids.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"What looks much handsomer than a +sow of Delphiniums in the borders of your +garden, and once planted they are always +there."—<i>Garden Work for Amateurs.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>The only drawback is that it is apt +to make such a litter.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Before we are through with it, we may be +obliged to have a war outright with Mexico, +because the Defacto Government is none too +friendly to us."—<i>Bournemouth Guardian.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>It is not perhaps generally known +that President Defacto is a direct +descendant of that well-known ruler, +Señor A. Priori.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Outside Dublin the county is tranquil. +Mr. Asquith, and three minor cases of disturbance +are reported."—<i>Evening News.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We deprecate this attempt to import +political prejudice into the situation.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Two ladies obliged to remain in furnished +house, Bournemouth, till let, offer free weekly +accommodation to middle-aged healthy lady +and dog in difficulties through war."</p> + +<p><i>The Common Cause.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Even the pets are feeling the pinch of +the Common Cause.</p> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE DIVINER.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:40%;"><a href="images/289.png"><img width="100%" src="images/289.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Reporter studying a Member's expression +as he leaves the house after a Secret +Session</span>.</p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page290" id="page290"></a>[pg 290]</span> + +<h2>DRESS ECONOMY AND THE CLAIMS OF ART.</h2> + +<blockquote class="note">To Lord <span class="sc">Spencer</span> on seeing his portrait by Mr. <span class="sc">Orpen</span> at the +Royal Academy.</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Here, at the Press View, ere the opening day</p> +<p>Admits the public on receipt of pay</p> +<p class="i2">And all the gallery like a murmurous shell hums,</p> +<p>I stand before your picture, awed and mute,</p> +<p>In reverent worship and an old, old suit</p> +<p class="i4">Of baggy ante-bellums.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>For, when Britannia first in wrath arose,</p> +<p>I took a vow:—So long as these poor clo's</p> +<p class="i2">Together, though reduced to just a mesh, hold,</p> +<p>Never will I, till Victory's trump rings clear</p> +<p>(Save when I purchase military gear),</p> +<p class="i4">Cross any tailor's threshold.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Yet, gazing on the garb you figure in,</p> +<p>Shining and perfect as a new-born pin—</p> +<p class="i2">The frock-coat built to dazzle gods and men, Sir,</p> +<p>The virgin tie, the collar passing tall,</p> +<p>The flawless crease of trousers which recall</p> +<p class="i4">The prime of <span class="sc">Bobby Spencer</span>—</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I hesitate to blame your lack of thrift;</p> +<p>I would not have your sacred feelings biffed</p> +<p class="i2">By harsh reflections from a patriot's war-pen;</p> +<p>Those rich externals which arrest the view</p> +<p>Were but adopted as essential to</p> +<p class="i4">The scheme of Mr. <span class="sc">Orpen</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Such was the sacrifice you made to Art!</p> +<p>And there are other portraits, very smart—</p> +<p class="i2">Sitters who must have borne the same hard trial;</p> +<p>Who waived their loyal taste for cheap attire</p> +<p>And went, superbly tailored, through the fire</p> +<p class="i4">Of noble self-denial.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>O. S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER.</h2> + +<h3>No. XXXVIII.</h3> + +<h3>(<i>From General <span class="sc">von Falkenhayn</span>.</i>)</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">Almightiest War-Lord</span>,—See how the Fates make sport +with us! We began in February to make our great attack +upon the fortified position at Verdun. In ten days, so we +thought, our massed artillery, firing a ceaseless torrent of +projectiles, would have shattered beyond recovery the lines +of the enemy, and our irresistible infantry, breaking through +like a flood, would have swept away all opposition, and +would without doubt have taken the fortress and cleared +our way to Paris and to decisive victory. So we believed, +having, as it appeared, every reason for our belief, and +having taken into account in our careful planning all the +chances and vicissitudes to which men and battles are +exposed. And now May is come with her buds and blooms, +May, when, as your Majesty knows, the heart of every +good honest German turns to thoughts of beer-gardens and +draughts of foaming liquid, and so far as the capture of +Verdun and the opening of the road to Paris are concerned +we have done nothing that has any value except for our +foes, who have had the satisfaction of seeing us beat ourselves +to fragments against the steel wall of their defence. +It must be confessed that German blood and German +courage have been miserably wasted, and not even our +resources, great as they are, can much longer stand the +strain which has been imposed upon them.</p> + +<p>Your Majesty asks me what under these circumstances +it is best to do. Shall we break off our attacks at Verdun +and direct our hammer-blows at some other part of the +front? Theoretically there is much to be said from the +purely military standpoint for such a course; but can your +Majesty foresee what the moral effect would be upon our +troops in the field and upon the Germans still left behind +us in Germany? We might, of course, announce that we +had now gained everything we had set out to gain, that +the French had lost immense numbers of killed and +wounded, that we had taken in unwounded prisoners the +equivalent of an army corps, that our booty was incalculable, +and that, in fact, the victory was definitely ours. But +would Germany believe this statement—<span class="sc">Reventlow</span>, of +course, would believe it, but then he would believe anything—and +above all would the French believe it? I can +promise your Majesty that they would believe nothing of +the sort, and that they would give some excellent reasons +for their disbelief. And the result would be that we should +be held not only to have acknowledged our failure, but +also to have made ourselves ridiculous in the sight of the +whole world. That, I am certain, would be intolerable +for your Majesty and for the German people, who have +been fed upon a diet of victory, and would be beyond +measure disquieted by such an admission of failure as I +have mentioned. No, the only thing to do, now that we +have been so deeply involved, is to persist in the struggle +and hope that we may in the end wear out enemies who +have hitherto shown no signs of fatigue.</p> + +<p>Fortunately it cannot be said that your Majesty is involved +in this lack of the success we all hoped for. Though +you are nominally the chief Commander of our Armies +it is known that in the actual operations your Majesty +has played the modest part of an onlooker rather than a +director. Formerly, that is before the breaking out of the +War, you were a great planner of plans, and it was understood +that, in case of war, you would lead your armies in +the field and prove that a Hohenzollern can do anything. +But now you have recognised your limitations, and no +Emperor can well do more than that. You do not now +thrust your advice upon your generals, whatever you may +have done at the outset of the War, and, though you may +once have dreamed of leading your hosts in a thundering +charge upon the foe, you have long since abandoned such +visions and have begun to realise that an Emperor is +but a man and cannot know everything. This, at least, is +my conviction, and I testify it to your Majesty with all the +bluntness that befits a soldier who has been honoured by +his Sovereign with a high command.</p> + +<p>Most dutifully yours, <span class="sc">Von Falkenhayn</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Good Hunting.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +"The jungle sale held in Warrenpoint in aid of the Warrenpoint +District Nursing Association realised the sum of £40. 3s."</p> + +<p><i>Northern Whig.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Young couple furnishing wishes to buy contents of 3 rooms, +including piano, or part of same."—<i>Edinburgh Evening News.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Their future neighbours are hoping that they will get one +without a keyboard.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"There is scarcely a family who have not someone near and dear to +them in the fighting line, and by substituting the task of knitting +for that of sewing, the well-known lines of Ibid are particularly +appropriate:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>'My tears must stop, for every drop</p> +<p>Hinders needle and thread.'"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><i>York Herald.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Ibid</i>, who is a close connection of that other voluminous +author, <i>Anon</i>, seems on this occasion to have plagiarized +from <span class="sc">Hood</span>.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page291" id="page291"></a>[pg 291]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/291.png"><img width="100%" src="images/291.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Court Official</span>. "I VENTURE TO REMIND THE +ALL-HIGHEST THAT WE ARE APPROACHING THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE SINKING OF +THE <i>LUSITANIA</i>. IS IT YOUR MAJESTY'S PLEASURE THAT THE CHILDREN +SHOULD HAVE ANOTHER PUBLIC HOLIDAY TO CELEBRATE THAT GLORIOUS EVENT?"</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Kaiser.</span> "GO AWAY! I AM ENGAGED ON SOME VERY DELICATE CORRESPONDENCE."</p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page292" id="page292"></a>[pg 292]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/292.png"><img width="100%" src="images/292.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>First Traveller.</i> <span class="sc">"This 'ere's a terrible war, +Bill."</span></p> + +<p>Second ditto. <span class="sc">"Yus. What's the price o' beer +now?"</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ON THE SPY TRAIL.</h2> + +<p>Jimmy's bloodhound, Faithful, had +his fortune told the other day—really, +I mean; not what the man next door +says when Faithful keeps on singing +to his cat at night from the bottom +of an apple-tree.</p> + +<p>Jimmy says the man next door often +has gloomy thoughts as to what will +happen to Faithful, and he gets up +from his warm bed to tell them to +him.</p> + +<p>Jimmy says Faithful was not expecting +to have his fortune told; he was +just sitting quietly on the wall +near the road, watching the day +go by.</p> + +<p>Everything was very nice and +quiet and peaceful; there was a +cat up each of three trees close by, +and a hen up another, all being +comfortable and quite all right +where they were, thank you, because +Faithful had inquired.</p> + +<p>The man next door was being +busy amongst his flowers; he was +replanting some that had been +planted right on the top of a place +where Faithful had laid down some +bones to mature.</p> + +<p>Things were so quiet that Jimmy +was just thinking about taking +his bloodhound on the spy trail, +when a woman came along with a +little hand-organ slung round her +neck and a cage containing two +small green parrots for telling your +fortune.</p> + +<p>Bloodhounds are very fond of +music, Jimmy says; they sing to +it, at least Faithful does. Jimmy +says Faithful lifted up his stomach +and threw back his head; but he +found it a little difficult to keep +time at first, because, you see, the +notes that were missing in the +organ were not the same ones that +were missing in Faithful's voice. +Jimmy says it is just the same +when two people singing a duet both +have hiccoughs; unless they hiccough +together you always notice something +wrong.</p> + +<p>The parrots were very clever; they +would come out of the cage and perch +on the end of a stick the woman held, +and then pick a small blue envelope +out of a box. Jimmy says that he +doesn't think the parrots had ever seen +a prize bloodhound like Faithful before, +not even in their native haunts, for +when Faithful tried to make a fuss of +them and love them they kept flying +about the cage and moulting their +feathers at him.</p> + +<p>Faithful picked up one of the feathers, +and when one of the parrots came out +of the cage to tell fortunes he tried to +put the feather back again. But the +parrot avoided him and went away.</p> + +<p>Faithful did his best to catch it again; +he has a very good nose for game, +Jimmy says, and he soon tracked the +parrot to its lair: it had joined the hen, +and the hen was being surprised—you +could hear it doing it, Jimmy says.</p> + +<p>Jimmy says Faithful sat at the +bottom of the tree and tried to look +like a birdcage; but his presence seemed +to disturb the woman so much that +Jimmy had to put the chain on him +and lead him away.</p> + +<p>Jimmy says Faithful kept yearning +to go back and help; he is a good +yearner, Jimmy says, and he does it +by pushing his head through the collar +as far as he can stretch it, and then +choking. Jimmy says the butcher is +a good yearner too, but he does it by +going red in the face and trying to burst +his collar with his neck. He did it at +Faithful this time. You see Faithful +was quietly passing his shop and doing +nothing at all to anyone—Jimmy had +only just let him loose on the trail—when +he caught sight of the butcher's +sandy cat lying curled up in the window +and going up and down at him with +her side. Jimmy says cats are always +doing something like that at his bloodhound, +and then what can you expect +if you will do it?</p> + +<p>There was a fly-paper on the counter, +and after old Faithful had driven the +cat into a corner Jimmy saw him suddenly +swing his tail at the fly-paper +and get firm hold of it; then he squatted +down on the counter and wagged the +fly-paper at the cat like anything to try +and mesmerise it. Jimmy says that +when the butcher came into the shop, +and Faithful stopped to turn round and +see where things were, the butcher +yearned at him like anything, and it +only made him worse when old Faithful +semaphored at him with the fly-paper.</p> + +<p>There was only a bluebottle on the +fly-paper besides Faithful, Jimmy +says, so that it wasn't very +crowded; but by the buzz the bluebottle +kept on making you would +think it owned the fly-paper. Jimmy +says his bloodhound had never +shared a fly-paper with a bluebottle +before, and he kept stopping +to answer the bluebottle back instead +of keeping to the spy trail.</p> + +<p>Jimmy says Faithful had just +sent an ultimatum to the bluebottle +when there came the sounds +of the hand-organ from a house +close by.</p> + +<p>Jimmy says as soon as Faithful +heard the music he seemed to +stiffen all at once and become +rigid. He looked splendid like +that, Jimmy says. One paw up, +his tail as straight as he could get +it, and the fly-paper at half-mast—everything +pointing to sudden +death.</p> + +<p>Jimmy followed Faithful as hard +as he could, and was in time to +see him stalking quietly hand over +fist across a lawn while the woman +was getting one of the green +parrots on the end of the stick.</p> + +<p>Jimmy knew the man who lived +at the house, and who was having +his fortune told. He had come +there to live a tired life, Jimmy +says, and when the War broke out +he had put up a big flag-pole with a +Union Jack on it as his share.</p> + +<p>Jimmy says the parrot had just got +the man's fortune in its beak, when +Faithful took a standing jump from +behind the woman at it. It was awful, +Jimmy says. The woman gave a +scream and grabbed at the parrot, the +man grabbed at Faithful, and Faithful—well, +Jimmy says he never knew +quite what Faithful did or how he did +it, but he emerged with the man's +fortune sticking to the fly-paper.</p> + +<p>Jimmy says bloodhounds are very +sensitive and avoid a commotion; but +the man and the woman were not used +to his side action in running and they +fell over one another.</p> + +<p>Jimmy says it was a very funny +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page293" id="page293"></a>[pg 293]</span> +fortune; it was in a special red envelope +and he couldn't understand it at first. +You see it only contained the names of +some towns and villages, and Jimmy +was just wishing that Faithful would +leave music and parrots and fly-papers +and fortunes alone, and catch German +spies instead, when it all came to him +because a friend of his mother's lived at +one of the villages and some Zeppelin +bombs had been dropped there.</p> + +<p>The woman had given the man the +names of the places where Zeppelin +bombs had fallen, and old Faithful had +been tracking them down all the time.</p> + +<p>Jimmy's head just buzzed with +thoughts as he ran to the police-station. +They caught the man and the woman, +and one of the policemen discovered the +flag-pole on the man's lawn, and it +turned out to be part of a wireless apparatus +to send messages to Germany.</p> + +<p>Jimmy says that, when the spies +were nicely locked up and settled for +the night, one of the policemen got the +parrot to tell Faithful's fortune, and +when they opened the envelope it said,</p> + +<p>"Your face is your fortune."</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/293.png"><img width="100%" src="images/293.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Subaltern.</i> <span class="sc">"Well, what do you want?"</span></p> + +<p><i>Tommy</i> (<i>formerly a cobbler</i>). <span class="sc">"The Cap'n's 'orse wants +soleing and 'eeling, Sir."</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A VERDICT REVISED.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Randolph the rash in cruel phrase defames</p> +<p>The "mediocrities with double names;"</p> +<p>But nowadays we find whole-hearted pleaders</p> +<p>Urging the claims of hyphenated leaders.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>For what were Pemberton without the thrilling</p> +<p>Corollary and supplement of Billing?</p> +<p>While Billing by itself, pronounced <i>tout court</i></p> +<p>And shorn of Pemberton, sounds bald and poor.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Without emotion you and I may any day</p> +<p>Light on a Jones unwedded to a Kennedy;</p> +<p>Likewise a Kennedy unlinked with Jones</p> +<p>Will fail to stir the marrow in our bones.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Mark you, moreover, how the order tends</p> +<p>To foster and promote euphonic ends;</p> +<p>For Billing Pemberton sounds flat and dull,</p> +<p>And Jones prefixed to Kennedy is null.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But Pemberton by Billing followed up,</p> +<p>And Kennedy with Jones to fill the cup,</p> +<p>Electrify the nation's tympanum</p> +<p>And strike the voice of sober Season dumb.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<p>A quotation from <span class="sc">Browning</span> as rendered +by <i>The Daily Chronicle</i>:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers,</p> +<p>The horrors of old."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>We regret to see our respected contemporary +has not yet abandoned its prejudice +against the Upper House.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"A report was read from the Sanitary Inspector +who has now joined the 3rd/4th Wilts +Regt. This showed that 18 parishes had been +infected under the Housing and Town Planning +Act, leaving eight parishes still to be +dealt with."—<i>Wiltshire Advertiser.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>In the interests of the uninfected +parishes we trust that the Sanitary +Inspector will deal faithfully with the +Germs.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page294" id="page294"></a>[pg 294]</span> + +<h2>LUNCHEON CAUSERIES.</h2> + +<p>A young lady typist was overheard +remarking in a City teashop the other +day that she liked <span class="sc">Silas Hocking</span> better +than <span class="sc">Joseph</span>, because the latter was +"rather deep." The remark was significant +of the new atmosphere of +literary enthusiasm which the feminine +invaders of business London have +brought with them into the luncheon-hour. +We are instituting a causerie +for the special benefit of this large class +of readers, <i>i.e.</i> those who get out of +their depth in the transition from <span class="sc">Silas</span> +to <span class="sc">Joseph</span>.</p> + +<p>I want to introduce you to-day to +a writer whose subtle genius defies +analysis but demands reverent appreciation. +Ruby L. Binns came into my +own intellectual life at a rather critical +stage in my reading. Like most young +men of the early nineteen-noughts, I +had fallen under the spell of Guy +Beverley, whose <i>Only a Mill Hand</i> and +<i>Squire Darrell's Heir</i> appeared to us +the consummation of the novelettist's +art. In those days every other young +man you met was mouthing the great +renunciation scene from the <i>Mill Hand</i>. +Small marvel too! As I recall it even +now something of the old glamour +revives.</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Go!" cried Mary Ellen. "Though you +are the Export Manager and I but a poor +humble mill-girl, I would sooner beg my +bread from door to door than seek it at <i>your</i> +hand." She eyed him with pitiless scorn. +Jasper Dare went out into the night. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Fine? Ay, and more than fine. But +we young men of the nineteen-noughts +made one big mistake. We thought +Guy Beverley had scaled the summit +of art; but art has no summit. We +thought he had plumbed the depths +of psychology; but psychology defies +the plumber. I date a new epoch in +my life from that day in 19— when I +picked up my <i>Daily Reflector</i> and read +the opening chapter of a new serial, +<i>Her Soldier Sweetheart</i>, by Ruby L. +Binns. That was on a Monday. By +Wednesday of that week this unknown +writer had revealed to me a New Idea +and a New Style. The idea is familiar +to most of you now, but in those days +the daring conception that a common +soldier might turn out to be the +missing heir of a baronet rang like a +challenge in the ears of the older romanticism. +It is her style, however, +that is Ruby Binns's most enduring +gift to English prose literature. Lean, +restrained, economical, it holds (for me) +the very spirit of the English race and +tongue. Listen:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +She went to the door, thinking she heard +something. There was nobody there, so she +went back to her work, thinking sadly of her +soldier boy. "Cheer up," said Clarice; +"perhaps he'll come back soon." "Perhaps," +answered Yvonne wanly, "but it does +not seem very likely, does it, dear?" The +next moment the door opened and a tall +soldierly figure entered the room. +</p></blockquote> + +<p>English? It is like a May morning +on Tooting Common. Beverley +would have handled that situation well, +no doubt. But could he—could anyone—have +achieved the poignancy of +that unaffected phrase, "It does not +seem very likely"? I said that the +depths of Art were unplumbable. True, +but Ruby Binns has at least got lower +than most.</p> + +<p>Next week I want to speak of a new +man and a new book, Stott Mackenzie +and his <i>Only a Trailer-Car Conductress</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE BEAUTIFUL THING.</h2> + +<p>You see ugly things in London now-a-days. +Oh, yes, but you see beautiful +things as well. I saw one yesterday—one +of the beautiful things.</p> + +<p>It was a cold wet evening, not +actually raining but very, very nearly. +I stood at the place in Piccadilly where +the 'buses stop. There was quite a little +crowd waiting, as there always is at this +time of day—women with parcels, work-girls +going home, a few men. All of +them looked tired, and many of them +looked cross.</p> + +<p>When a 'bus drew up at the curb +all those people made a simultaneous +plunge for it. Before it had finally +stopped they were clinging like a swarm +of bees to the steps and rails. It is an +arduous game this 'bus-catching, though +for those who are young and strong it +should perhaps have a certain attraction, +combining as it does the allurement of +a lottery gamble with the charm of a +football scrimmage.</p> + +<p>There were only three vacant places, +and these, after a desperate struggle, +were secured by two athletic-looking +girls and a red-haired schoolboy. The +conductor waved back the disappointed +boarders and they dropped off sulkily. +I watched them a moment and then +my eyes toward two soldiers, +who were crossing the street. Fine, +well-set-up men they were, and they +carried themselves with the indescribable +air of those who have crossed +swords with Death and left their +opponent, for the time at least, defeated. +One of them had a green +shade over his left eye. The other +carried a stick and walked with a slight +limp.</p> + +<p>They took up their position a little +to the side of the expectant crowd that +was already beginning to sway and +jostle at the sight of a fresh 'bus, which +had just rounded the corner. Small +chance for the new-comers, however +slightly wounded, in such a <i>mêlée</i>, +thought I.</p> + +<p>The 'bus came rocking along, reeled +to the left, staggered to the right, and +came uncertainly to a shuddering rest +beside the pavement.</p> + +<p>And then it was that I saw the +Beautiful Thing.</p> + +<p>For of that little crowd, some twenty +people in all, not a soul moved. Not +a man, woman or child took so much +as a step forward. They looked at the +half-filled 'bus, they looked at the two +soldiers, and waited, motionless.</p> + +<p>Those two had pressed forward briskly +enough, but as they mounted the steps, +the man with the green shade giving +a helping hand to his companion, the +attitude of the crowd seemed suddenly +to strike them. The lame man glanced +over his shoulder, smiled and murmured +something to his friend. His friend +turned likewise and stared. He pushed +his comrade through the doorway, +turned again, and very solemnly raised +his hand to his cap in salute. A second +later he too vanished within the interior +of the 'bus.</p> + +<p>And then the rush began.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE TRUMP CARD.</h2> + +<h3><i>"Gold lace has a charm for the fair."</i></h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>When William first became a Lieut.</p> +<p class="i2">R.N.V.R., in blue and gold,</p> +<p>Belinda smiled upon his suit</p> +<p class="i2">(Which formerly had found her cold);</p> +<p>His manly form and honest face,</p> +<p class="i2">She really liked them, I believe;</p> +<p>But, most of all, she loved the lace</p> +<p class="i2">Upon his sleeve.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Yet soon a rival courtier came—</p> +<p class="i2">A dashing dapper Lieut. R.N.;</p> +<p>And, as this paragon pressed his claim,</p> +<p class="i2">Oh, what could William hope for then?</p> +<p>How could a wobbly-braided swain</p> +<p class="i2">Vie with the actual Royal Navy,</p> +<p>Whose stripes were half as broad again</p> +<p class="i2">And straight, not wavy?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then William swore (ah, Envy, ah!)</p> +<p class="i2">"Belinda <i>shall</i> be mine, she <span class="sc">SHALL</span>!"</p> +<p>And wrote a note to his papa,</p> +<p class="i2">Who'd just been made an Admiral:—</p> +<p>"Father, now that you'll fly at sea</p> +<p class="i2">A two-balled flag in place of pennant,</p> +<p>What do you say to taking me</p> +<p class="i2">As flag-lieutenant?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>When William next waylaid his fair,</p> +<p class="i2">He had his glittering "aiglets" on;</p> +<p>Rope upon rope of gold was there,</p> +<p class="i2">And now his rival's look was wan;</p> +<p>He tried a bitter sneer, to greet</p> +<p class="i2">This "peacock preening in the sun";</p> +<p>But Miss Belinda thought them "sweet"....</p> +<p class="i2">And William won.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page295" id="page295"></a>[pg 295]</span> + +<h2>MR. PUNCH'S POTTED FILMS. THE AMERICAN THRILLER.</h2> + +<h3>THE EXPLOITS OF JEMIMA ANN. <span class="sc">159th</span> EPISODE.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/295a.png"><img width="100%" src="images/295a.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Jemima Ann, entering her 200 h.p. car, is handed a +missive. Something suspicious in the appearance of the +bearer determines her to take it to her friend, Professor +Macpherson, the distinguished inventor.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/295b.png"><img width="100%" src="images/295b.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">In the meantime news has been brought to the +members of the Scarlet Skull Gang that Macpherson +has invented the most deadly silent pistol ever constructed. +Determined to get the secret of this weapon, +they proceed surreptitiously to his residence, taking +with them an adjustable periscope.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/295c.png"><img width="100%" src="images/295c.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Jemima Ann shows Macpherson the missive. While he +is explaining to her the construction of the new pistol +she detects the periscope. Macpherson continues his +explanation, but makes a vital change in the arrangement +of the various parts of the weapon.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/295d.png"><img width="100%" src="images/295d.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">The Scarlet Skull Gang, in their secret armoury, +construct a pistol from the information clandestinely +obtained through the periscope.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/295e.png"><img width="100%" src="images/295e.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Macpherson has advised Jemima Ann to keep the +appointment requested in the missive. He accompanies +her to the corner, and then bids her to proceed alone +without fear.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/295f.png"><img width="100%" src="images/295f.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">End of 159th episode. 160th episode to-morrow.</span></p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page296" id="page296"></a>[pg 296]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/296.png"><img width="100%" src="images/296.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Disgusted Tommy</i> (<i>to prisoner</i>). <span class="sc">"You +can't 'elp bein' a bloomin' Bosch, but yer might blow aht yer chest, or +'old yer 'ead up, or somethink! Lumme! I'm ashamed to be seen walkin' +with yer!"</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE LATEST SOLAR MYTH.</h2> + +<blockquote class="note">Mr. J. H. <span class="sc">Willis</span>, a Norwich scientist, writing in <i>The Morning +Post</i>, condemns the daylight-saving movement on the ground that +too much sunshine is enervating and that life is more virile in +Northern latitudes.</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Though the daylight-saving measure, which ingenious <span class="sc">Willett</span> planned</p> +<p>To illume the work and leisure of the toilers of the land,</p> +<p>Has not yet convinced the nation, or unto the mass appealed,</p> +<p>Still without exaggeration it can claim to hold the field.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But of late a man of science—Mr. <span class="sc">Willis</span> is his name—</p> +<p>In a mood of flat defiance bans the daylight-saving game;</p> +<p>And, relentlessly pooh-poohing the delights of sunny days,</p> +<p>Recommends the prompt tabooing of the cult of solar rays.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>All the hardy Northern races are efficient, in his view,</p> +<p>Just because they live in places where the sunlit hours are few,</p> +<p>And, conversely, peoples broiling in the horrid torrid zones</p> +<p>Have no grit or zest for toiling and no marrow in their bones.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>There was once a commentator, if I rightly recollect,</p> +<p>Who, discussing the Equator, treated it with disrespect;</p> +<p>But his temperate impeachment, though it showed a mental twist,</p> +<p>Pales before the drastic preachment of the Norwich scientist.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Metaphorically speaking, it's a symptom of the Hun</p> +<p>To be always bent on seeking after places in the sun;</p> +<p>But I'd rather choose to follow what my deadliest foes applaud</p> +<p>Than to ostracise Apollo as an enervating fraud.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>No, you don't convince me, <span class="sc">Willis</span>, with your scientific chat,</p> +<p>And my slangy daughter, Phyllis, says you're talking through your hat;</p> +<p>For, while many drug-concoctors merit death <i>by sus. per coll.</i>,</p> +<p>I believe the best of doctors is our old friend Doctor Sol.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Hours recorded on the dial, "hours serene," assuage more ills</p> +<p>Than the lancet or the phial or a wilderness of pills;</p> +<p>And if cranks of anti-solar leanings long for gloom, they should</p> +<p>Emigrate to circumpolar regions and remain for good.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Punch's Roll of Honour.</h3> + +<p>We record with sincere grief the death of Lieutenant +<span class="sc">Alec Leith Johnston</span>, who was killed in action on +April 22nd during the fight in which the gallant Shropshires +recaptured a trench on the Ypres-Langemarck Road. +Early in the War Mr. <span class="sc">Johnston</span> joined the Artists' Corps +and saw service at the Front. Later he received a commission +in the K.S.L.I., and a few months ago was in the +list of wounded. He has for a long time been associated +with <i>Punch</i>, and during the War has contributed many +articles under the titles "At the Back of the Front" and +"At the Front." His loss will be very keenly felt.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page297" id="page297"></a>[pg 297]</span> + +<h3>WANTED—A ST. PATRICK.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/297.png"><img width="100%" src="images/297.png" alt=""/></a><p><i><span class="sc">St. Augustine Birrell.</span></i> "I'M AFRAID I'M +NOT SO SMART AS MY BROTHER-SAINT AT DEALING WITH THIS KIND OF THING. I'M +APT TO TAKE REPTILES TOO LIGHTLY."</p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page298" id="page298"></a>[pg 298]</span> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<p><i>Tuesday, April 25th.</i>—The Government, +which has sometimes been +accused of not having sufficient confidence +in the House of Commons, has +made ample amends. Information +about the Army, too grave to be imparted +to the people who provide the +men and the means for maintaining it, +is to be freely given to four +or five hundred Members of +Parliament (not to mention a +similar number of Peers).</p> + +<p>The <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> opened +the Secret Session in one of +his briefest speeches. "Mr. +Speaker," he said, "I beg, +Sir, to call your attention to +the fact that strangers are +present." The historic form +of this advertisement, "I spy +strangers;" is briefer still, but +inadmissible in these ticklish +times. One does not want +to see, in the enemy Press, +"British Prime Minister confesses +to spying."</p> + +<p>Then the Press Gallery +was cleared, and the Great +Inquest of the Nation became +a Vehmgericht. The wretched +scribe who should attempt to +peer behind the veil that +shrouds its proceedings has +been warned in advance of +the unnamed pains and penalties +that await him if he should +venture to describe or even +"refer to" the proceedings of +the Secret Session. I am unable +to say, therefore, whether +it is true that the occupants +of the Treasury Bench forthwith +donned helmets and gas-masks +to protect themselves +from the fiery darts and mephitic +vapours launched at +them from above and below +the Gangway.</p> + +<p>On these picturesque details +the official report, compiled +by Mr. <span class="sc">Speaker</span>, who is understood +to have seized the +opportunity offered by his recent stay +at Bath to learn Pitman's shorthand, +is unfortunately silent.</p> + +<p>All we learn from its severely restrained +pages is that the <span class="sc">Prime +Minister</span> made a long statement about +recruiting. From this we gather that +if fifty thousand of the unattested +married men do not enlist before the +end of May they will be compelled +to do so; and that altogether the +Government will insist on getting +200,000 men from this source. The +German General Staff will be surprised +to learn that our requirements are so +modest, and will wonder, as we do, +what all the pother is about.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Mr. <span class="sc">Lowther</span> did not take +notes of the other speeches that were +delivered. At any rate he gives us no +indication of their drift. All we know +is that in the course of some seven +hours no fewer than sixteen Members +addressed the House. From this it +may be inferred that the absence of +reporters has at least the negative advantage +of conducing to brevity of +utterance. May we also infer that the +speaking was as plain as it was brief, +and that for the time being the Palace +of Westminster has become the Palace +of Truth?</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:40%;"><a href="images/298.png"><img width="100%" src="images/298.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Unique sketch by <i>Punch</i> artist (concealed in clock +opposite), showing how the last reporter was detected +in the Press Gallery by the aid of a giant periscope.</span></p></div> + +<p><i>Wednesday, April 26th.</i>—So far as +we are permitted to know what took +place—for the House of Commons had +another Secret Session—in both Houses +it was Ireland, Ireland all the way. +The Commons began by granting a +return relating to Irish Lunacy accounts, +and then by an easy transition +passed to the report of the Sinn Fein +rebellion in Dublin.</p> + +<p>Colonel <span class="sc">Sharman-Crawford</span>, who +bears a name that all Ireland has solid +reason to respect, desiring to return to +his native country, asked Mr. <span class="sc">Birrell</span> +what routes, if any, were open. Mr. +<span class="sc">Birrell</span> did not know, but intimated +genially that he might be able to take +absence of over the gallant Colonel under his own +protecting wing. The House +appeared to find humour in +the idea of the <span class="sc">Chief Secretary</span> +returning to his post, +and an Hon. Member inquired +why he had ever left it.</p> + +<p>The <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> gave +a brief and, so far as it went, +rosy-coloured report of the +situation in Dublin. Some +Nationalist Volunteers were +helping the Government. The +forces of the Crown were to +be further strengthened by a +party of American journalists, +armed to the teeth with quick-firing +pencils, who were going +over to deal with "this most +recent German campaign."</p> + +<p>This may have reminded +Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span> that there were +British journalists in the +Press Gallery. The <span class="sc">Deputy +Speaker's</span> attention having +been called to this fact, the +House voted for their expulsion, +and again passed into +Secret Session.</p> + +<p>The Lords were again in +Open Session, to the regret, +perhaps, of the Government +representatives, who heard +some very plain speaking +from Lord <span class="sc">Middleton</span>. According +to his information the +rebels were still in possession +of important parts of Dublin. +The Government had been +warned on Sunday last that an +outbreak was imminent, but +had nevertheless allowed many +officers to go on leave, while +others were permitted to assist +at the races on Monday.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday, April 21th.</i>—Mr. <span class="sc">Ginnell</span> +does not believe in the supineness of +the Irish Executive. His information +is that quite a long time ago it had +resolved to place Dublin in a state of +siege, to imprison Archbishop <span class="sc">Walsh</span> +and the <span class="sc">Lord Mayor</span> in their respective +official residences, and to arrest the +leaders of sundry Nationalist associations. +Mr. T. W. <span class="sc">Russell</span>, as spokesman +for the ruthless Mr. <span class="sc">Birrell</span>, +denied emphatically that these drastic +steps had been contemplated.</p> + +<p>The <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> subsequently +announced that the situation still had +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page299" id="page299"></a>[pg 299]</span> +"serious features." This mild phrase +covers the continued possession by the +rebels of important parts of Dublin, +the prevalence of street fighting, and +the spread of the insurrection to the +wild West. Martial law had been +proclaimed all over the country; Sir +<span class="sc">John Maxwell</span> had been sent over in +supreme command, and the Irish Government +had been placed under his +orders—the last part of this announcement +being greeted with especially loud +cheers.</p> + +<p>Sir <span class="sc">Edward Carson</span> and Mr. <span class="sc">John +Redmond</span> joined in expressing horror +of this rebellion and hoped that the +Press would not make it an excuse for +reviving political dissension on Irish +matters—a sufficient rebuke to <i>The +Westminster Gazette</i> and <i>The Star</i>, +both of which by a curious coincidence +had found the moment auspicious for +preaching from the text of the old tag, +"There but for the grace of God," etc.</p> + +<p>Sir H. <span class="sc">Dalziel</span> attempted to secure +an immediate debate upon the Irish +trouble. But the eminent Privy Councillor +found little support in the House, +and was first knocked down by the +<span class="sc">Deputy-Speaker</span> and then trampled +upon by Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span>.</p> + +<p>If the Secret Sessions were intended +to make smooth the way of the Military +Service Bill they failed miserably in +their object. Mr. <span class="sc">Long</span>, to whom was +entrusted the task of introducing it, +felt his position acutely. Only when +explaining that one of the principal +objects of the Bill was to extend the +service of time-expired soldiers for the +duration of the War did he wax at all +eloquent, and then it was in lauding +the chivalry of these men and in expressing +his extreme distaste for the +task of coercing them. The whole +speech justified the poet's remark that +"long petitions spoil the cause they +plead."</p> + +<p>Not a voice was heard in favour of +the measure. Sir <span class="sc">Edward Carson</span> +damned it for not going far enough, +and Mr. <span class="sc">Leif Jones</span> because it went +too far; and Mr. <span class="sc">Stephen Walsh</span>, as +representative of the miners, who have +given so much of their blood to the +country's cause, bluntly demanded that +the House should reject this Bill "and +insist on the straight thing."</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span>, recalled to the House +by his agitated colleague, recognised +that his old Parliamentary hand had +got into a hornet's nest, and promptly +withdrew it. To the best of my recollection +this is the first time on record +that a Government measure has perished +before its first reading. Conceived in +secrecy and delivered in pain, its epitaph +will be that of another unhappy +infant:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"If I was to be so soon done for</p> +<p>I wonder what I was began for."</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/299.png"><img width="100%" src="images/299.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Ingenuous Maiden (on being told she is expected to +milk the cow</i>). "<span class="sc">Oh, Mum, I dursn't without a soldier held her +head</span>."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The Austrians thrice attempted to rush +the Italian positions on the Upper Isonzo, but +were repulsed with heavy lasses."</p> + +<p><i>Times of Ceylon.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Stout girls, these <i>contadine</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Recently I have seen several German +planes so high as to be mere specks, and of +the many I have seen none has been lower, I +should say, than ,000 ft."—<i>Morning Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>A cautious statement, and probably +true.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"We are glad to learn that the daughter of +our popular banker was married on the 10th +instant, over 1000 persons were invited and +sumpfedtuously."—<i>Indian Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We infer that the compositor was +among them.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"In his defence Mr. —— said he had endeavoured +to fake the point that the onus of +proving he was under the Military Service +Act was upon the prosecution."</p> + +<p><i>Bayswater Chronicle.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>If not a conscientious he seems to have +been at least a candid objector.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page300" id="page300"></a>[pg 300]</span> + +<h2>"THE BIRTH OF A FLUENCE."</h2> + +<p>In consequence of the new tax on +imported films the Cinema industry in +England has received a new fillip, and +a wave of enterprise is passing over +the studios. In place of the familiar—almost +too familiar—American dramas +we are to have English. No more +of those square-jawed stern American +business men at their desks, with the +telephone ever in their hands and +instantaneous replies to every call. +No more police officers, also at their +desks, giving orders like lightning and +having them understood and acted +upon as quickly. No more crooks +clambering over the roofs of an +express train. No more motor-car +pursuits. No more Indians, no +more cowboys, no more heroines +in top boots.</p> + +<p>And what is there to be instead? +Not—I hear you cry +appealingly—not panoramas of +Zurich or Cape Town? No, not +those devastating views of scenery, +but home-made films "featuring" +English performers, with an eye +not only to entertainment but instruction. +That is the new movie +note. And for a start a wonderful +picture has just been completed, +under the title "The Birth of a +Fluence," taking the Cinema-goers +(as they are called) behind the +scenes of a London daily paper.</p> + +<p>Not a real paper, of course, for +that would be telling too much, +but an absolutely imaginary paper, +yet like enough in many respects +to a real paper to afford to the +imaginative spectator an idea of +how such marvellous sheets are +put together.</p> + +<p>No expense has been spared to +get an air of verisimilitude into +these pictures, at a private view +of which we were permitted to +be present.</p> + +<p>Let us give a rough sketch of the +film, which is some mile and a half +long, or as far, say, as from the House +of Lords to Printing House Square. +But first we must remark that the +unseen force which agitates all the +documents and blinds of the various +rooms shown is not due, as it usually +is, to the circumstance that the pictures +were taken in the open air, during +a gale, but it symbolises the power of +the Proprietor of the paper, who can +by a breath make or unmake Governments.</p> + +<p>The first picture shows the arrival +of the Editor, a man of desperate mien, +dark as a thunder cloud, ready to be +affrighted by nothing, with instant +disapproval of whatever he disapproves +breaking through his alert, intellectual +features. To him, stern patriot as he +is, it is nothing that men do well. +He is there, vigilant and implacable, +to pounce swiftly and mercilessly on +derelictions of duty. No one knows so +well as he what is possible to a Minister +and his Department and what not. +They themselves, the Minister and his +Department, are totally uninstructed +in the matter. Truly a remarkable man.</p> + +<p>The Editor opens his letters; touches +bells, speaks through telephones, and +generally proves himself to be more +than a man, a Force. Imaginary as is +the whole affair, no one seeing this film +can ever open a morning paper again +without a thrill, a foreboding.</p> + +<p>Next we are shown the Proprietor +leaving his private house by aeroplane +to visit the office. We see him first +alighting on the roof and then entering +his private room by a secret door, from +a secret staircase. Having removed +his slouch hat and cloak and laid aside +his dark lantern, he is revealed as a +man of destiny indeed.</p> + +<p>We see the mottoes on the walls of +the room, such as "Always change +horses in midstream"; "Always wash +dirty linen in public"; "Any stick is +good enough to beat a dog with"; +"If you throw enough mud some will +stick"; "Damn the consequences"; +"Disunion is strength"; "After me +the Deluge," and so forth.</p> + +<p>Then the Proprietor begins to get +busy. He too touches bells, and various +assistants rush to his presence. The +first is the Editor, and we watch the +progress of a fateful interview, which +is made the more understandable by +legends shown on the screen. Thus, +after a long course of lip-moving and +chin-wagging on the part of the Proprietor, +we read the helpful words:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"The Twenty-three must go." +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Then the Editor's lips move and his +chin rides up and down and we read +the words:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"But suppose the old man is too +clever?" +</p></blockquote> + +<p>And so the epoch-making talk goes +on and others are summoned to +take part in it.</p> + +<p>Next, as a guide to the paper's +enterprise we are admitted to a +meeting of the Cabinet, and are +assisted, at last to unravel the +mystery as to which Minister it +is who gives away the secrets of +that assembly, for we watch him +in his various disguises on his way +to the dark cellar where he meets +the political representative of the +paper, makes his report and receives +the promise of his future +reward. It is, we feel confident, +this particular section of the film +which will secure for it an amazing +popularity, though all reference in +the Press to Cabinet proceedings +has now been made illegal for the +duration of the War.</p> + +<p>"The Birth of a Fluence," it will +be seen, does not confine its energies +to the office of the paper. +So thorough is the scheme that +various pictures have been taken—always, +of course, at the usual +enormous expense—at even distant +places, where its activities, or the +result of them, can be studied. For +example, we are shown a section of +the Front and the delight of the English +soldier as he unfolds the paper and discovers +that his country is still being +goaded towards that healthy disintegration +which must necessarily accelerate +our victory. And we are even +shown one of the paper's defeated candidates +seeking the railway-station +after the election; for it is notorious +that, vast as are the paper's other influences, +it is often unable to persuade an +electorate to follow it.</p> + +<p>The last picture, which also should +be of particular interest to the public +as proving how sacred the Fourth +Estate holds the duty of providing it +with accurate reports, shows the whole +of the building draped with the habiliments +of woe and the staff in deep +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page301" id="page301"></a>[pg 301]</span> +mourning on learning that the secrecy +of the secret session is to be callously +and rigorously enforced by the Government. +And in this state of prostration +the <i>personnel</i> is left. So ends one of +the most enthralling films that this +country has yet invented.</p> + +<p>"The Birth of a Fluence" would, of +course, be more instructive still were +there any paper that at all corresponded +to the fantastic and incredible organ +here illustrated. But of course a sheet +that during the progress of an anxious +war so consistently belittled its country +and aspersed its rulers would be impossible. +Still, enough verisimilitude +remains to make an amusing half-hour.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:40%;"><a href="images/300.png"><img width="100%" src="images/300.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Conscientious married M.P. (WHO UNFORTUNATELY +TALKS IN HIS SLEEP) GAGGING HIMSELF +BEFORE RETIRING TO BED AFTER SECRET SESSION</span>.</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>NURSERY RHYMES OF LONDON TOWN.</h2> + +<h3>IX.—<span class="sc">The Poultry and the Borough.</span></h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The Fox ran to London</p> +<p class="i2">Starving for his dinner;</p> +<p>There he met the Weasel</p> +<p class="i2">Looking even thinner.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The Weasel said to Reynard,</p> +<p class="i2">"What shall be our pickin's?"</p> +<p>Said Reynard to the Weasel,</p> +<p class="i2">"Rabbits and Spring Chickens."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then they went a-hunting,</p> +<p class="i2">And they did it very thorough,</p> +<p>The Fox in the Poultry</p> +<p class="i2">And the Weasel in the Borough.</p> + </div> </div> + +<h3><span class="sc">X.—Wormwood Scrubbs.</span></h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Wormwood scrubs, Wormwood scrubs</p> +<p class="i2">Windows, walls, and floors,</p> +<p>Pots and pans and pickle-tubs,</p> +<p class="i2">Tables, chairs and doors;</p> +<p>Wormwood scrubs the public seats</p> +<p class="i2">And the City Halls;</p> +<p>Wormwood scrubs the London streets,</p> +<p class="i2">Wormwood scrubs Saint Paul's;</p> +<p>Wormwood scrubs on her hands and knees,</p> +<p class="i2">But oh, it's plainly seen,</p> +<p>Though she use a ton of elbow-grease</p> +<p class="i2">She'll <i>never</i> get it clean!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>A TRUE PESSIMIST.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/301.png"><img width="100%" src="images/301.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Shaun.</i> <span class="sc">"'Tis a German!"</span></p> + +<p><i>Mike.</i> <span class="sc">"Glory be! How can ye tell that?"</span></p> + +<p><i>Shaun.</i> <span class="sc">"I cannot tell ut. 'Tis a guess."</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE LOAN.</h2> + +<p>It was past ten o'clock and the maid +was, or should have been, asleep, so +when there came a knock at the front-door +Bertha got up to answer it herself.</p> + +<p>"Whoever can it be at this time of +night?" I said.</p> + +<p>"It's Evelyn come to borrow again," +said Bertha. "I know her knock."</p> + +<p>"Don't always look on the dark side +of things," I counselled; "be an optimist +like me. Now I have a feeling +that she has come to pay back what +they borrowed last week."</p> + +<p>A minute later Bertha returned. "I +knew it," she said; "it is as I feared. +Jack has sent her over to borrow three +more."</p> + +<p>"Three more!" I gasped; "but it's +preposterous. They borrowed five only +last Monday and they'll never pay +them back, of course. What did you +say to her?"</p> + +<p>"I said I couldn't manage it myself, +but I would ask you."</p> + +<p>"I suppose we shall have to do it," +I said, crossing over to the bureau and +unlocking it.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you got any on you?" +asked Bertha.</p> + +<p>"Only one; I never carry more than +that in case I might get my pockets +picked. It's a bit thick," I continued, +"we economise and deny ourselves in +all kinds of ways and then that spend-thrift +comes—or, rather, sends his wife—and +borrows all our hard-earned +savings."</p> + +<p>From a secret drawer in the bureau +I drew forth a small box that I +opened with fingers that trembled like +<i>Gaspard's</i>.</p> + +<p>Bertha joined me and, side by side, +we stood gazing at the contents in a +hush that was akin to worship.</p> + +<p>"Well," said I, at last breaking the +silence, "here you are, and for goodness' +sake tell her not to waste them!" and +into my wife's outstretched hand I +carefully counted out—three matches.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page302" id="page302"></a>[pg 302]</span> + +<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2> + +<h3><span class="sc">"The Mayor of Troy."</span></h3> + +<p>The admirable "Q" has shot his +arrow into the gold so often and carried +off so mountainous a load of trophies +that he can see with equanimity his +last shot signalled an outer—even a +miss. The signaller must needs be +more dismayed than he. "Q" is also +too honest and perceptive a critic not +to see the weak points of <i>The Mayor +of Troy</i> as a stage play, though he may +fairly plume himself on the pleasant +(and unpleasant) folk of his creation +who partly came to life on the opening +night at the Haymarket. He will +have found out and noted for an +appendix to those lively and instructive +discourses of his <i>On the +Art of Writing</i> that it is a jolly +difficult thing to write a play; +that an act is not a chapter of a +novel, still less a <i>compôte</i> of bits +of many chapters; that, while to +be charmingly discursive is a +paramount quality of the higher +type of novelist, the same attribute +in a play, whose very breath +of life is essential brevity, makes +it appear to go on crutches, like +his own discomfited hero. It +bemuses an audience and gravels +the players—as the queer uncertainty +of touch of so skilful, so +conscientious an actor as Mr. +<span class="sc">Ainley</span> sufficiently betrayed. But +to the story.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:40%;"><a href="images/302.png"><img width="100%" src="images/302.png" alt=""/></a><p>CURED OF OBESITY IN TEN YEARS.</p> + +<p><i>The Mayor of Troy (Mr. Henry Ainley) before and +after prison diet.</i></p></div> + +<p>Portly and pompous <i>Major +Solomon Hymen Toogood</i> (Mr. +<span class="sc">Ainley</span>), wealthy citizen of Troy +Town, and, in the perilous year +of grace 1804, for the seventh +time its Mayor; Justice of the +Peace, in command of the battery +of <i>Diehards</i> which himself had +raised, spoilt by the worship of +the women and the tractability (with +reservations) of the men, has reason +to be mightily pleased with himself; +and very distinctly is. On this pleasant +day on which the play opens he +has written a proposal of marriage +to a lady whose heart, unhappily, is +already given to his Deputy in civic +office and Second in Command of the +battery, Dr. <i>Dillworthy</i> (Mr. <span class="sc">Leon +Quartermaine</span>). Meanwhile a little +smuggling expedition, which he had +planned under cover of his military +authority (Sir <span class="sc">Arthur</span> does not quite +put it like that), turns into a genuine +fight, and our Mayor is carried off +prisoner to France.</p> + +<p>At the peace of 1814 he returns thin +and lame to find that the lady of his +choice has long married the man of +hers (and why not?), and that the two, +with their children, are installed in his +house; <i>Dillworthy</i> no longer Deputy +but reigning Mayor. Nobody recognises +the famous <i>Toogood</i>, which is +entirely "Q's" fault, not theirs; and +nobody, except a pretty maid who is to +marry his nephew (his own money has +made the match possible), seems to +worry overmuch (<i>absit omen</i>!) about +returned prisoners of war. He reveals +himself to nobody but his villain +brother <i>William</i> (Mr. <span class="sc">Ayrton</span>). That +fatuous revenue officer, <i>Lomax</i> (Mr. +<span class="sc">Malleson</span>), has written a fulsomely +flattering life of him at which his gorge +rises. Everybody, apart from opening +a hospital in his memory (in a bed of +which he eventually finds himself), +seems to be going about his or her +business much as usual (yet what +else could they do?). He extracts a +character of himself from his faithful +old servant and finds it not so flattering +as he would have liked. Seems, in +fact, determined to have his grievance. +Well, then, he will buy a dog. And he +will take the road with his pal the +comic sailor and shake the dust of +fickle Troy from off his feet.</p> + +<p>But I protest that this is all very +unfair to the Trojans. As soon as he +gave them their chance they took it +decently enough, so much so that all +ended happily in what must have been +a most uncomfortable dance on the +sharp fragments of the <i>Toogood</i> bust +which the disgruntled original had +smashed with his crutch.</p> + +<p>Of course poor <i>William</i> very naturally +resented this extraordinarily inconsiderate +return from the dead of a long and +well-lost brother, several thousand of +whose pounds he had misappropriated. +As for <i>Lomax</i>, could he by any stretch +of the imagination within the frame +of this picture have tried to bribe the +Mayor to go away just to save his +infernal biography from being wasted? +You simply can't have a convincing +colloquy on these lines between the +tragic figure of the disillusioned and +embittered hero and this farcical jackanapes.</p> + +<p>And I think it was just this sort of +lack of conviction that flattened the +actors. Mr. <span class="sc">Henry Ainley</span> had his +moments, but he's not a man of moments. +He's about our best +<i>whole-hogger</i>. Mr. <span class="sc">Leon +Quartermaine's</span> easy skill was, +as it always is, a very pleasant +thing to watch. Mr. <span class="sc">De Lange</span> +gave an animated little sketch +of a droll French spy. Mr. <span class="sc">Miles +Malleson</span> shouldn't let his sense +of character and his undoubted +talent for business lead him into +that capital sin of taking more +than his share of the stage. Mr. +<span class="sc">Hendrie</span> as the sailor, <i>Ben Chope</i>, +gave us another of those amusing +grotesques of his; and Miss +<span class="sc">Claire Greet</span> put in a clever +paragraph as <i>Mrs. Chope</i>. Mr. +<span class="sc">Frederick Groves</span> was an excellent +gruff servant; Miss <span class="sc">Peggy +Rush</span> a pretty bride; Mr. <span class="sc">Gerald +McCarthy</span> a plausible lover; Miss +<span class="sc">Bruce-Potter</span> a becomingly +subdued and adoring Georgian +doctor's wife. Mr. <span class="sc">Lyall +Swete</span> played competently a +poisonous ass of a vicar, and was +responsible for the production, +which was admirable.</p> + +<p>T.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>A Ranker.</h3> + +<p>Extract from Battalion Orders:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"The horse and cab of the Headquarters +attached to the —— Regt., A. Coy., +for forage and accommodation." +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"In the Ascot Double Handicap Hurdle +Race, after an objection to Early Berry for +jumping, the race was awarded to Marita."</p> + +<p><i>Sporting Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Marita, presumably, crawled under the +hurdles like a little lady.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"In spite of all traditions about the British +love of a tub, we rarely are acquainted with +the proper use of soap and water.... And +thus we lay ourselves under Browning's reproach +of 'You very imperfect ablutionist!'"</p> + +<p><i>British Weekly.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Browning may have written this; but +we prefer <span class="sc">Gilbert's</span> version:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"You very imperfect ablutioner." +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page303" id="page303"></a>[pg 303]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/303.png"><img width="100%" src="images/303.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Macpherson (who, having lost half-a-crown in the +Strand and reported the loss overnight at Scotland Yard, on returning +next day to resume his search finds the road up).</i> <span class="sc">"Losh me—thae +Londoners are awfu' thorough!"</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<h3><i>(By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.)</i></h3> + +<p>I would heartily commend to all good English women +and men <i>The Book of Italy</i> (<span class="sc">Unwin</span>), first because it will +help the families of those Italians who have left England +to join their ships and regiments and will make possible +the works of mercy of the Italian Red Cross, and secondly +because it is in itself an admirable book—the most distinguished, +I think, of any of its kind published here during +the War. It tells us something of the great Italian creators +and liberators, <span class="sc">Dante</span>, <span class="sc">Leonardo</span>, <span class="sc">Michelangelo</span>, +<span class="sc">Mazzini</span>, +<span class="sc">Garibaldi</span>, <span class="sc">Cavour</span>—too little perhaps of <span class="sc">Mazzini</span>, +than whom no movement for liberty ever had a nobler or +a saner prophet. Of the good things, besides the contributions +of distinguished Italians (a particularly interesting +note on the Italian Red Cross by Signor <span class="sc">Galante</span> claims +a Neapolitan, <span class="sc">Ferdinando Palasciano</span>, as the pioneer, +in 1848, of the Red Cross idea), let me specially commend +the spirited introduction of Lord <span class="sc">Bryce</span>, the eloquent +letter of <span class="sc">Sabatier</span>, the memories of <span class="sc">Frederic Harrison</span>, +the quiet wisdom of <span class="sc">Clutton-Brock</span>, the learning (decently +veiled for normal eyes) of <span class="sc">Frazer</span>, of <i>The Golden Bough</i>; +the inspired prejudices, fringed with epigram, of G. K. C. +A mere catalogue of a few of the well-known writers +represented, of <span class="sc">Symons</span>, <span class="sc">Galsworthy</span>, <span class="sc">Gilbert Murray</span>, +<span class="sc">Bagot</span>, <span class="sc">Hichiens</span>, <span class="sc">Barry Bain</span>, +<span class="sc">Phillpotts</span>; and of artists +such as <span class="sc">Brangwyn</span>, <span class="sc">Sargent</span>, <span class="sc">Shannon</span>, <span class="sc">John</span>, +<span class="sc">Lavery</span>, +<span class="sc">Richmond</span>, <span class="sc">Poynter</span>, <span class="sc">Frampton</span>, <span class="sc">Ricketts</span>, +<span class="sc">Anning Bell</span>, +<span class="sc">Cayley Robinson</span>, makes its best testimonial. England +has never been other than the friend of modern Italy, for +the Triple Alliance was merely a freak of desperate diplomacy +and was broken by the popular will when Germany (be +it remembered) was giving fair promise of ultimate victory. +We don't need conversion to the cause of Italy, but everything +that helps to foster and develop the comradeship of +the now <i>Risorgimento</i> of the Allied Nations is welcome. +And <i>The Book of Italy</i> will serve this purpose excellently +well.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>More than once before now I have commented upon +that almost unique gift that Mr. <span class="sc">Jack London</span> has of +transferring physical energy to fiction. His characters +must always be about some sinew-straining business that +makes the reader ache in sympathy. However in <i>The +Little Lady of the Big House</i> (<span class="sc">Mills and Boon</span>) the author +seems to have allowed himself and his creations an unwonted +holiday. Here is no fierce struggle for existence, +but the fruits of it upon a millionaire ranche in California. +<i>Dick Forrest</i> was the millionaire, by heritage and his own +success; a great farmer and a breeder of shires. He had a +wife, the <i>Little Lady</i> of the title, and a Big House that was +one of the most eligible dwellings in fiction. A plain recital +of the arrangements ("tweaks" we should have called them +at school) in <i>Dick's</i> open-air bedroom makes the ordinary +home look like ten cents. Mr. <span class="sc">London</span> certainly knows +how to luxuriate when he gives his mind to it. Moreover +there was a wonderful swimming-bath, with a concealed +submarine chamber in which the <i>Little Lady</i> used to hide +for the terror of uninstructed guests (she was rather that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page304" id="page304"></a>[pg 304]</span> +kind of person), and a great music-room for her to play +<span class="sc">Rachmaninoff</span> in and flirt with the Other Man. This is +all the tale. Eventually the flirtation becomes serious +and the <i>Little Lady</i> is driven to suicide, with a death scene +of rather unconvincing sentiment. The fact is, I am afraid, +that Capuan ease does not altogether suit the super-strenuous +beings whom Mr. <span class="sc">Jack London</span> designs. They are +too energetic for it, and, lacking an outlet, tend to become +melodramatic. I hope that next time he will take us back +to the muscle-grinding.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>When the War broke out Mr. F. W. <span class="sc">Wile</span>, an American +gentleman, was living in Berlin as the correspondent of +<i>The Daily Mail</i>. Having read his book, <i>The Assault</i> +(<span class="sc">Heinemann</span>), I may say that I judge him to be singularly +alert and wide-awake and admirably fitted for the position +he occupied. He has no scintilla +of hatred or animosity for the +German people as individuals, +but he wishes to see Germany +beaten. "I wish her beaten," +he says, "for the Allies' sake +and for my own country's sake. +A victorious Germany would be +a menace to international liberty +and become automatically a +threat to the happiness and +freedom of the United States." +He saw the furious transports +of patriotism and hatred to +which the Berlin mob gave +way; he witnessed the brutal +attack on the British Embassy, +and he was himself denounced +as an English spy, was arrested +and was lodged in jail, whence +he was rescued only by the +direct interposition of the American +Ambassador. All these +incidents he relates in a very +vivid way and with a certain +dry humour that adds to the +effect. His description of the +manner in which, on his way +to prison in a taxi with two +German policemen, he managed +to destroy a telegraph code +which was in his breast pocket, +is positively thrilling. Had it +been discovered on him, nothing, +he thinks, would have availed to +save him, so delirious were his +captors with rage and suspicion. Certainly a delightful +people. Finally he was allowed to leave Berlin and travel +to England as a member of Sir <span class="sc">Edward Goschen's</span> party. +In the later portion of this book Mr. <span class="sc">Wile</span> castigates us, not +too unkindly, but, perhaps, a little too insistently, for not +being ready, for not realising what war means and for being +self-complacent. Since his criticisms are based on affection +for us we can make an effort to kiss the rod, especially +as he discerns signs of improvement in us. Incidentally +I may add that he is, perhaps, not altogether fair to Lord +<span class="sc">Haldane</span>, but, <i>per contra</i>, he gives Lord <span class="sc">Northcliffe</span> a +high testimonial to character and behaviour.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>Cordelia</i> (<span class="sc">Melrose</span>) is a story as agreeable as its name, +or as the pretty, if rather chocolate-box-school, picture on +its wrapper. One small defect I find in the dissipation of its +interest. Beginning with one hero, it goes on with another; +and the result is some confusion for the reader who +has backed the wrong horse. But Mr. E. M. <span class="sc">Smith-Dampier</span> +might very justly retort that this is but fidelity +to life. When in the early chapters we see the first hero +turned from home by an unsympathetic parent, and +faring forth to seek romance in a new world, it was +surely reasonable to suppose that he would eventually be +rewarded by the pretty lady of the wrapper, especially as +<i>Savile Brand</i> (though his name inevitably suggests tobacco) +is a character drawn with understanding and skill. But +Mr. <span class="sc">Smith-Dampier</span> is good at lovers. He has another, +even better, up his sleeve. This is <i>Peter</i>, the forty-year-old +American cousin, who cherishes a tender regard for +<i>Mistress Cordelia</i>. I should explain that all this happened +in the time of powder, lace coats, and witches. This last +is important. Those were the days when <i>Cherchez la +sorcière</i> was the unfailing remedy +in New England for every +ill, material or emotional. It is +from this, coupled with the mistaken +jealousy of her sister, that +<i>Cordelia's</i> troubles come, and so +nearly turn her story to tragedy. +The main motive may remind +you a little of that grim play +of witchcraft that we saw at +the St. James's Theatre some +years ago. But fortunately +the end is more comfortable. +<i>Cordelia</i>, in short, is a +nicely-flavoured romance of old +America, with at least three +unusually well-drawn characters +to give it substance. I have no +doubt at all of its success.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>OUR ECONOMISTS.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/304.png"><img width="100%" src="images/304.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Customer.</i> <span class="sc">"I've called about the cough mixture I +bought. The first dose cured me."</span></p> + +<p><i>Chemist.</i> <span class="sc">"The instantaneous effect of that preparation, +Sir, has been remarked by everybody."</span></p> + +<p><i>Customer.</i> <span class="sc">"it's amazing; and, as there's only one +dose gone, I thought perhaps you'd change what +was left for some photographic plates."</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Lady Poore's</span> <i>Recollections +of an Admiral's Wife</i> (<span class="sc">Smith, +Elder</span>) is as excellent a book of +its kind as readers of <i>Punch</i> are +likely to find reviewed in a month +of Wednesdays. Scrapbooks of reminiscences +are so often dumped +upon a surfeited world that it +is at once a pleasure and a duty +to draw attention to a volume +of real worth and significance. +Wherever <span class="sc">Lady Poore</span> was living—whether +in Australia before +the War or in Chatham after +August, 1915—her main object +was to arrive at a sympathetic +understanding of the people with whom she had to deal, and, +without a hint of patronage, to be of service to them. It is +impossible to read of the work she did and helped to do +during the last dozen years or so without recognising how +possible it is to be official and still remain very human. In +spite of little outbursts of opinion which refuse to be suppressed, +Lady <span class="sc">Poore</span> is as discreet as the most censorious +of censors could desire. One of her anecdotes—for the +most part well told and fresh—is as funny a tale as I have +I ever encountered; but I will leave you to find it for yourself. +Altogether a book to thank the gods for.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"On the way to Berea, Mr. Lloyd George met the Rector of the +parish, and both cordially shook hands."—<i>Scotsman.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Are we to infer that as a rule, when these two gentlemen +meet, only one of them shakes hands?</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 150, MAY 3, 1916***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 22941-h.txt or 22941-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/9/4/22941">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/9/4/22941</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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