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diff --git a/23087-h/23087-h.htm b/23087-h/23087-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f13f92 --- /dev/null +++ b/23087-h/23087-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3082 @@ +<!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. 146, March 18, 1914, 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. 146, +March 18, 1914, 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. 146, March 18, 1914</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: Owen Seaman</p> +<p>Release Date: October 19, 2007 [eBook #23087]</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. 146, MARCH 18, 1914***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, David King,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 146.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>March 18, 1914.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" id="page201"></a>[pg 201]</span> + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p>In view of the grave importance of +the present political situation, the price +of <i>Punch</i> will remain as heretofore.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"The risk of flying is very greatly +exaggerated," says Mr. <span class="sc">Winston +Churchill</span>. Then why funk a General +Election?</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Some people have such a nasty way +of putting things! Liberal gentleman +to Unionist gentleman: "Well, have +you taken the pledge?"</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Attempts are now being made to +establish penny postage between England +and France. The Germans are +said to feel flattered that we should +still consider the privilege of corresponding +with them worth two-pence-halfpenny.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The public indignation against the +woman who damaged the "Rokeby +Venus" continues unabated, and most +inhuman propositions are being made. +One gentleman has even been heard to +suggest that the woman ought to be +made to serve her term of imprisonment +in the Royal Academy.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>General <span class="sc">Villa's</span> statement that, unless +the ransom he demands is paid at +once, he will expose the body of the +son of General <span class="sc">Terrazas</span> to the fire of +the Federals confirms the opinion +prevalent in this country that General +<span class="sc">Villa</span> is not really a very nice man.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p> +"THE BENTON INQUIRY</p> + +<p>PROMISE THAT JUSTICE WILL BE +EXECUTED."</p> + +<p><i>Observer.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We were under the impression that +this execution had taken place, some +time since in Mexico, for Justice has +not been seen there for a long time.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A Norfolk doctor declares that the +sting of a bee is a most effective cure +for both rheumatism and sciatica. It +is also an infallible cure for inertia.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The yearly volume of judicial statistics +just issued shows a marked decrease +in business in all the courts except the +Divorce Court; and there is some talk +of the legal profession erecting a statue +of a co-respondent as a mark of their +appreciation.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Persons who like to be seen reading +a two-penny newspaper are now in a +quandary since the price of <i>The Times</i> +has been reduced, and it is again +rumoured that, in order to cater for +this class, an unsuccessful halfpenny +paper is about to raise its price to +twopence.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Sussex has been suffering from an +epidemic of sheep-stealing. The police +theory is that the sheep are carried off +at night in motor cars—the silly +creatures, accepting with alacrity the +novel offer of a ride in an automobile.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Several prominent authors having +stated that their best ideas come to +them while taking a tub, quite a +number of unsuccessful scribes have, +we hear, almost made up their minds +to the experiment of one bath a week.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>In an Introductory Note to the serial +publication of <i>The Woman Thou Gavest +Me</i>, entitled "Why I wrote the Story," +the Master attempts to shift the +blame—or, anyhow, to apportion the +responsibility. One day, it seems, Mr. +<span class="sc">Caine</span> heard the story which forms the +basis of the novel. He first told it to +a Cabinet Minister, who was "visibly +touched." He next tried it on a tailor, +who was "just as obviously affected." +Then comes this delicious passage:—"After +that I called on my publisher +and, not being able to get the story +out of my thoughts, I told it to him as +well. His eyes filled, his head dropped, +and he was as deeply touched as I and +the tailor and the Cabinet Minister +had been." It is generally understood +that Mr. <span class="sc">Heinemann</span> has since had a +complete recovery.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>LOOKING WELL FORWARD.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/201.png"><img width="100%" src="images/201.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>First Survivor from Wreck</i> (<i>to Second +Survivor</i>.) <span class="sc">"'Ow much ought we to ask off the music-'alls when we +get back</span>—<span class="sc">'undred-an'-fifty quid a week or two 'undred?"</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Owing to the number of rats and crickets +in her bedroom a nurse employed by the +Dudley Board of Guardians, it was stated at +the meeting of the board yesterday, had +resigned.</p> + +<p>"It was decided to engage a professional rat-catcher."—<i>Daily +Mail.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>It is, however, not altogether satisfactory +to be nursed by a professional rat-catcher, +and some of the patients are +already complaining most bitterly of +the change.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" id="page202"></a>[pg 202]</span> + +<h2>THE HAT.</h2> + +<p>"Of course," said the lady of the house, "you can turn +yourself into a hermit if you like. We'll build you a little +cell, and——"</p> + +<p>"What?" I said. "A real hermit, in a long robe like a +bath-gown? With a real cell, and a dish of herbs on a +plain deal table, and some rocks to sleep on, and a folio +volume always open at the same place? May I really be +like that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "that's what you're coming to. And +there'll be a notice stuck up on a tree—'This way to the +Hermit,' with a painted hand."</p> + +<p>"I know the sort," I said. "A hand with only one +finger."</p> + +<p>"Yes, one finger pointing in the direction of the cell. +And all the village children will follow you when you go +out, and you'll threaten them with a gnarled stick, and +you'll be indicted as a nuisance."</p> + +<p>"But not for a long time," I said. "I shall have lots of +good hermiting before that happens. I shall have my +breakfasts quite alone and nobody will ask me to go to +Mrs. Latimer's musical afternoon in London, 4 to 7."</p> + +<p>"Well, you're not a hermit yet, so you'll have to come +to Mrs. Latimer's with me. You know you'll enjoy it +when you get there."</p> + +<p>"I won't."</p> + +<p>"And you'll meet plenty of your friends."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want to meet my friends," I said. "Friends +are people yon go on being friends with without meeting +them. That's the essence of true friendship, you know. +Absence doesn't alter it. You keep on thinking of dear old +Jack and what fun you used to have together at Cambridge; +and then some day a funny old gentleman comes up to you +in the street and says you don't remember him, and you +pretend you know him quite well, and it's Jack all the +time, and you wonder how he's got so old while you +yourself have kept on being as young as ever. That's +friendship."</p> + +<p>"This," she said, "is not an Essay Club."</p> + +<p>"What should a woman know of friendship?" I said +bitterly. "Besides, I shall have to get a new top-hat."</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "there's nothing so very awful in that. +But what's the matter with the old one?"</p> + +<p>"The old one," I said, "is a blacked sepulchre, and even +the black part of it is not very good. The lining is of the +sort that makes it necessary to place it on a table with the +opening down. Fortunate woman, your hats require no +lining and you don't take them off. You cannot sympathise +with my feelings. Such a top-hat as mine is good enough +for a Board meeting, but it cannot go to Mrs. Latimer's +musical afternoon. Her footman would despise me."</p> + +<p>"Very well," she said, "get your new hat and have it +ready for this day fortnight."</p> + +<p>The upshot of this conversation was that on the following +day I went to London, wearing my old top-hat, and called +at Messrs. Hutchfield's, the famous hatters. It is not a +very large shop, but it is very high, and something like +a million white hat-boxes, each presumably containing a +hat, are stacked in gleaming tiers from floor to ceiling. +The higher ones are fetched down by means of a long pole +provided at one end with a sort of inverted hook. It is a +most dexterous and pleasing trick, only to be attempted by +an old hand. An inexperienced practitioner would certainly +bring down an avalanche of hat-boxes on the heads of the +customers. On one side of the room there is a patent stove +in which several irons were heating, not for torture, but for +the improvement of hats. Several aproned attendants were +bustling about, and one or two customers with bare heads +were eyeing one another with an exaggerated air of haughty +nonchalance, as who should say, "Observe, we do not wear +white aprons. We do not <i>belong</i> to the shop. We are +genuine customers. We are waiting for our hats."</p> + +<p>"Good morning," I said.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Sir," said one of the attendants; "what +would you be requiring to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I think," I said, "it was a hat. Yes, I'm sure it was. +A top-hat, you know—one of your best."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Sir." With a graceful and airy movement +he whisked off my old hat and took its measure in length +and breadth.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't draw any inference from the lining," I +said. "I'm not really as poor as all that. I've meant to +have it re-lined several times, but somehow I never brought +it off. Still, it's been a good hat."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sir," he said.</p> + +<p>"Could it be——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, Sir, we could re-line it for you and make it +look almost as good as new."</p> + +<p>"Splendid!" I cried. "Then I shan't want a new one, +shall I?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Sir, it would take some little time. You would +want to wear something to go on with till it's finished."</p> + +<p>"There is," I said, "some force in that. Put the machine +on me at once."</p> + +<p>"The what, Sir?"</p> + +<p>"The machine," I said. "The beautifully contrived, +apparatus made of ever so many wooden keys like the +inside of a piano—only those are set in circles. It fits +close to the head and you can make it looser or tighter, +and when you've got it on you look like a Siamese king +in his crown. And when you take it off you tear out a +piece of paper and that gives you the exact measure to a +hair's-breadth. Come, I'm ready."</p> + +<p>His face relaxed into a serious kind of smile.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," he said, "you shall have it on, Sir, if you +like. But I thought, being an old customer and your +measure being known, it might not be necessary."</p> + +<p>"Very well," I said, "I'll give up the machine, but I +don't see how I can take any further pleasure in this +purchase. Still, if you know me so well——"</p> + +<p>"We don't forget customers of thirty years' standing," +he said proudly.</p> + +<p>"That settles it," I said. "I will now buy four hats—a +top-hat, a bowler, a soft felt and a straw hat."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sir," he said, and from an upper tier he extracted +a hat-box out of which he shortly produced a top-hat and +placed it on my head. It did not fit at first, but fire soon +reduced it to obedience.</p> + +<p>"The others must be similarly treated," I said as I left +the shop.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately in the interval it had begun to rain and +every taxi seemed to be taken. You know what a new +top-hat looks like after that. However, with two hats to +choose from, I am now ready to face Mrs. Latimer's +footman.</p> + +<p>R. C. L.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"It has been arranged that the dinner which the Modern Languages +Association had intended to give to Professor Rudolf Eucken, +of Jena, on the occasion of his forthcoming visit to England to lecture +before the Association, shall be amalgamated with the public dinner +arranged by the Committee of Friends and Admirers of Professor +Eucken."—<i>Morning Post.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Professor Eucken (at last giving way)</i>: "What <i>is</i> this, +waiter?"</p> + +<p><i>Waiter (confidentially)</i>: "Another little amalgamation, Sir. +The Modern Languages' ice pudding and the Friends and +Admirers' soft roes on toast."</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" id="page203"></a>[pg 203]</span> + +<h3>PENNY WISDOM.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/203.png"><img width="100%" src="images/203.png" alt=""/></a><p>"In view of the grave importance of the present political +situation <i>The Times</i> will be reduced in price to a +penny."—<i>Press Association</i>.</p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page205" id="page205"></a>[pg 205]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/205.png"><img width="100%" src="images/205.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Reclining Nut</i>. "<span class="sc">I don't bother to hold the +girls now-a-days, I just let 'em nestle</span>."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR NEW PENNY PAPER.</h2> + +<p>Thanks to Sir <span class="sc">Edward Carson</span>—or, +as <i>The Times</i> prefers to put it, "the +grave importance of the present political +situation"—the price of <i>The Times</i> has +fallen to one penny.</p> + +<p>While it must be admitted that the +famous journal is well worth a penny, +we think it only fair to say that certain +issues of <i>The Daily Mail</i> and <i>Evening +News</i> last week, whose amazing editorial +organisations were so freely and +disinterestedly engaged in overcoming +colossal obstacles in order to give +information about the approaching +revolution, were worth anything from +fourpence to ninepence apiece.</p> + +<p>If these philanthropic journals had +not been behind <i>The Times</i> last week, +what might we not have missed? Who, +for instance, would have learned that; +"the price (2<i>d.</i>) ... was equivalent to +that of one penny paper and two halfpenny +papers <i>per diem</i>"? We have +checked that statement, with the aid of +a ready-reckoner and a Latin dictionary, +and we find it substantially correct. +We are also able to agree to the further +statement made last Thursday, that +"from Monday next <i>The Times</i>, together +with any one of the halfpenny +morning papers, will be obtainable for +less than the present price of <i>The Times</i> +alone." If the mathematician who dug +up that fact had said "evening" instead +of "morning" his statement, curiously +enough, would still have been right.</p> + +<p>Thanks to the reminder from <i>The +Evening News</i> that first numbers had +been known to become valuable, fetching +from £10 to £100, some 27,000 people +put aside nice clean copies of <i>The Times</i> +on Monday, in the hope of selling them +at a profit of about 24,000 per cent, +in 1964.</p> + +<p>The greatest achievement in the +annals of journalism was of course <i>The +Daily Mail</i> man's successful attempt +to interview the publisher of <i>The Times</i>. +How he managed it we cannot think; +but we are very, very grateful to him. +We may add that ours is the only +journal that has succeeded in interviewing +the intrepid reporter. "How +did you contrive to force your way +through the seething mass in Printing +House Square, and pass the closely-guarded +portals of the world's chief +and largest newspaper office; and by +what means did you persuade the +Colossus of publishing to tell you anything +about it?" we asked. We regret +that we cannot give his reply; only +the incomparable genius of the painter +of <i>La Gioconda</i> could do that.</p> + +<p>A curious incident took place outside +the Mansion House on Monday. In +the Agony Column of a famous two-penny +newspaper on Saturday the +following announcement had appeared: +"Will wate f. u. outsd. Mansn. Hs. +10-11 Mon. morn. Carry cop. <i>Times</i> +so I may no its u." A frantic lady +rushed at so many young and middle-aged +men, exclaiming, "Horace! at last +we meet!" that long before 10.30 it +was necessary for a kindly City policeman +to lead her away to a neighbouring +chemist's for first aid.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The fact that to-day is the 104th anniversary +of the birth of Mr. Gladstone prompts +reflection as to the different ways in which +their birthdays have been regarded by some +famous men."—<i>Westminster Gazette.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>The Writer (as he finishes)</i>: "Got it in +at last, thank Heaven!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"A number of motor-cars, including one +belonging to Mr. Lloyd George, are blocked +in the Snowdon district, and the sheep farmers +are much perturbed."—<i>Morning Post.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>However, they can sleep soundly in +their beds now, for he is back in London +again.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page206" id="page206"></a>[pg 206]</span> + +<h2>THE SLIT TROUSER.</h2> + +<blockquote class="note">(Whose arrival in England is reported +in the photographic press.)</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>You who see advanced attire</p> +<p class="i2">Photographed for you to mock,</p> +<p>Hold your ridicule or ire,</p> +<p class="i2">Wax not scornful at the shock;</p> +<p>Let not your compassion freeze,</p> +<p class="i2">Hark to Archie for a bit,</p> +<p>Ponder, if you please, his pleas,</p> +<p class="i2">Patience, ere you slight his slit.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Long there raged a warfare grim</p> +<p class="i2">In the councils of the Nut;</p> +<p>Socks were all in all to him</p> +<p class="i2">Abso-simply-lutely; <i>but</i>—</p> +<p>Here's a problem for you pat—</p> +<p class="i2">How shall Archibald disclose</p> +<p>Through the thickness of the spat</p> +<p class="i2">Iridescent demi-hose?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Yesteryear that problem vexed;</p> +<p class="i2">One day spatted he would fare,</p> +<p>Lacking colour; and the next</p> +<p class="i2">Spatless, in chromatic wear.</p> +<p>No dilemma reads him now,</p> +<p class="i2">Bidding this or that to go.</p> +<p>See, his side-cleft bags allow</p> +<p class="i2">Spat and sock an equal show.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>TACT.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/206.png"><img width="100%" src="images/206.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Mr. Anchor always wears a moustache for the soup +course whenever his uncle, the general (from whom he has expectations), +dines with him.</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"DASH."</h2> + +<p>"There's no book +like it," said A. "Get +it at once."</p> + +<p>"You must read <i>Dash</i>," said B.</p> + +<p>"If you take my advice," said C., +"and you know I'm not easily pleased +by modern fiction, you'll get <i>Dash</i> and +simply peg away till you've finished it. +It's marvellous."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you've read Darnock's +<i>Dash</i>?" said D. "It's by far his best +thing."</p> + +<p>At dinner my partner on each side +gurglingly wished to know how I liked +<i>Dash</i>, taking it for granted that I knew +it more or less by heart.</p> + +<p>So having read some of Darnock's +earlier work and thought it good, I +acquired a copy of <i>Dash</i> and settled +down to it.</p> + +<p>I had not read more than two pages +when it occurred to me that I ought +to know what the other books in the +library parcel were; so I went to look +at them. One was a series of episodes +in the career of a wonderful blind +policeman who, in spite of his infirmity, +performed prodigies of tact on point +duty, and by the time I had finished +glancing through this it was bed-time. +I put <i>Dash</i> under my arm, for I always +read for half-an-hour or so in bed. How +it happened I cannot imagine, but when +I picked up the book and began to +read I found, much to my surprise, that +it was the other library novel.</p> + +<p>"Have you begun <i>Dash</i> yet?" B. +asked me at lunch.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, rather," I said.</p> + +<p>"I envy you," he replied. "How +far have you got?"</p> + +<p>"Not very far yet," I said.</p> + +<p>"It's fine, isn't it?" he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Fine."</p> + +<p>The next evening I had just taken +up <i>Dash</i> again when I remembered +that that other novel must be finished +if it was to be changed on the morrow, +so I turned dutifully to that instead. +It was a capital story about a criminal +who murdered people in an absolutely +undetectable way by lending them a +poisoned pencil which would not mark +until the point was moistened. I enjoyed +it thoroughly.</p> + +<p>The next evening I was getting on +famously with the fifth page of <i>Dash</i> +when the library parcel again arrived, +containing two new books for those I +had returned in the morning.</p> + +<p>Meeting C. the next day he asked +me if I did not think <i>Dash</i> the finest +thing I had ever read.</p> + +<p>I said yes, but asked him if he had +not found it a little difficult to get into.</p> + +<p>"Possibly," he said, "possibly. But +what a reward!"</p> + +<p>"You like books all in long conversations?" +I asked.</p> + +<p>"I love <i>Dash</i>," he said, "anyway."</p> + +<p>"Did you read every word?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Well, not perhaps every word," he +replied, "but I got the sense of every +page. I read like that, you know—synthetically."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," I said.</p> + +<p>The next day I changed the two +library books that were finished for +two more, but it was <i>Dash</i> which I +took up first. There is no doubt about +its being a very remarkable book, but +I had had a rather heavy day and +my brain was not at its best. What +extraordinary novels people do write +nowadays! Fancy making a whole +book, as the author of <i>Hot Maraschino</i> +has done, out of the Elberfeldt talking +horses! In this book, which has an +excellent murder in a stable in it, the +criminal is given away by a horse who +tells her master (it is a mare) what she +saw. I couldn't lay the story down.</p> + +<p>That night I dined out and heard more +about <i>Dash</i>. In fact, I myself started +one long conversation on that topic +with an idle lady who really had read +every word. I went on to recommend +it right and left. "You +must read <i>Dash</i>," I said +at intervals; "it's extraordinarily +good."</p> + +<p>"Some one was telling +me he couldn't get on +with it at all," said one +of my partners.</p> + +<p>"Not really?" I said, +and clicked my tongue +reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he says it's so +involved and rambling."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well," I said, +"one must persevere. +Books mustn't be too +easy. For my part——Yes, +champagne, please."</p> + +<p>"I'll get it, anyway," +she said. "I feel sure +your judgment is sound."</p> + +<p>Looking in at the club +later I found D. playing snooker. After +missing an easy shot he turned the talk +to <i>Dash</i>.</p> + +<p>"Tip-top, isn't it?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Which is your favourite chapter?" +I asked.</p> + +<p>His face told me I had him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, that's difficult to say," he +replied.</p> + +<p>"Surely you think that one about +the stevedore's spaniel, towards the +end, is terrific?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Of course that's fine," he replied, +"but I was just wondering whether——"</p> + +<p>But I didn't stop to listen. There +is no stevedore and no spaniel in the +whole book, as I had carefully ascertained.</p> + +<p>The next day I had A., B. and C. +with the same device.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile I am plodding away with +<i>Dash</i>. I have now reached page 27. +A great book, as all agree. But the +books that I shall read while I am +reading it will make a most interesting +list.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page207" id="page207"></a>[pg 207]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/207.png"><img width="100%" src="images/207.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><span class="sc">Scene</span>—<i>Arrivals at Fancy Dress Ball</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Policeman.</i> "<span class="sc">Now then, come along there, come along</span>."</p> + +<p><i>Taxi-Driver.</i> "<span class="sc">'Arf a jiff, Copper; I think they've stitched +Romeo's money into 'is backbone</span>."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A HARD CASE.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Mr. Punch</span>,—As the friend of +my family from 1846, I ask you for +advice on a subject which touches me +painfully both as a husband and a +father. My wife is, as I personally +know, the dearest woman in Great +Britain, and our child is, I am credibly +informed, the finest child in Europe. +<i>Infandum renovare dolorem.</i></p> + +<p>Our child is four months old; it is +named Eunice. Yesterday I found my +dear wife with the infant weeping +piteously—my wife, that is, not the infant. +I proceeded at once to use all the +means in my power to soothe her and +to ascertain the reason of her unhappy +state. But it was only after a considerable +time and the expenditure of no +little ingenuity on my part that she +revealed the secret.</p> + +<p>"I knew how it would be, John," she +said between her sobs, "I knew from +the first. I felt sure that, when baby +came you wouldn't care for her. And—and +you <i>don't</i>."</p> + +<p>I at once took the child in my arms +and guggled to it. The child, I am +happy to tell you, Sir, responded at once +to my paternal attention and guggled +happily in reply. I felt patriotic pride +in the part I had taken in adding to the +womanhood of my beloved country.</p> + +<p>A few days later I found my wife +sobbing violently. Carrying the child +with me—it was still guggling—I +crossed to her and again used my best +endeavours, not only in consolation, but +to ascertain the cause of her fresh unhappiness. +Again it was long before I +obtained a reply. But at last she said: +"I knew how it would be, John," her +sobbing was as violent as before, "I +knew from the first. I felt sure that +when baby came you would only care +for her and neglect me."</p> + +<p>Now, Sir, what shall I do?</p> + +<p>Your inquiring admirer,</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Matthew Haile</span>.</p> + +<p>P.S.—My wife is sobbing again as I +write. I have at last ascertained her +trouble. It is that I don't care for the +baby.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The other night a rabbit ran for a quarter-of-a-mile +in the flare of a lighted motor-car on +the Eggleston road."—<i>Teesdale Mercury.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>"I hope," puffed the rabbit, well within +record at the end of the fourteenth lap, +"I hope it won't burn itself out before +I've finished."</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"To accomplish this distance at an average +speed of 20 miles per hour would take 28-1/2 +hours. To this time, however, had to be added +the Channel crossing both ways, which takes, +roughly, about eight hours."—<i>Motor Cycling.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>"Roughly" is good, alas!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It is difficult to order our emotions +as we would have them be. Try as we +will, we cannot read aloud the following +extract from <i>The Birmingham Weekly +Post</i> with the solemnity which properly +it should call forth:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"A feature of the programme was the opening +chorus. During this a lady gardener in +male attire arrived on the stage with a wheelbarrow +full of vegetables, and caused amusement +by throwing these among the audience. +Presently the missiles commenced to hit +persons, one victim, being the vicar, who, +struck in the eye by a turnip, was compelled +to retire." +</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page208" id="page208"></a>[pg 208]</span> + +<h2>ORANGES AND LEMONS.</h2> + +<h3>II.—<span class="sc">On the way</span>.</h3> + +<p>"Toulon," announced Archie, as the +train came to a stop and gave out its +plaintive dying whistle. "Naval port +of our dear allies, the French. This +would interest Thomas."</p> + +<p>"If he weren't asleep," I said.</p> + +<p>"He'll be here directly," said +Simpson from the little table for two +on the other side of the gangway. +"I'm afraid he had a bad night. Here, +<i>garçon</i>—er—<i>donnez-moi du café et</i>—er——"But +the waiter had slipped +past him again—the fifth time.</p> + +<p>"Have some of ours," said Myra +kindly, holding out the pot.</p> + +<p>"Thanks very much, Myra, but I +may as well wait for Thomas, and—<i>garçon, +du café pour</i>—I don't think +he'll be—<i>deux cafés, garçon, s'il vous</i>—it's +going to be a lovely day."</p> + +<p>Thomas came in quietly, sat down +opposite Simpson, and ordered breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Samuel wants some too," said +Myra.</p> + +<p>Thomas looked surprised, grunted +and ordered another breakfast.</p> + +<p>"You see how easy it is," said +Archie. "Thomas, we're at Toulon, +where the <i>ententes cordiales</i> come from. +You ought to have been up long ago +taking notes for the Admiralty."</p> + +<p>"I had a rotten night," said Thomas. +"Simpson fell out of bed in the middle +of it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, poor Samuel!"</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you gave +him the top berth!" I asked in +surprise. "You must have known +he'd fall out."</p> + +<p>"But Thomas dear, surely Samuel's +just falling-out-of-bed noise wouldn't +wake you up," said Myra. "I always +thought you slept so well."</p> + +<p>"He tried to get back into <i>my</i> bed."</p> + +<p>"I was a little dazed," explained +Simpson hastily, "and I hadn't got my +spectacles."</p> + +<p>"Still you ought to have been able +to see Thomas there."</p> + +<p>"Of course I did see him as soon as +I got in, and then I remembered I was +up above. So I climbed up."</p> + +<p>"It must be rather difficult climbing +up at night," thought Dahlia.</p> + +<p>"Not if you get a good take-off, +Dahlia," said Simpson earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Simpson got a good one off my +face," explained Thomas.</p> + +<p>"My dear old chap, I was frightfully +sorry. I did come down at once and +tell you how sorry I was, didn't I?"</p> + +<p>"You stepped back on to it," said +Thomas shortly, and he turned his +attention to the coffee.</p> + +<p>Our table had finished breakfast. +Dahlia and Myra got up slowly, and +Archie and I filled our pipes and followed +them out.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll leave you to it," said +Archie to the other table. "Personally, +I think it's Thomas's turn to step on +Simpson. You ought to assert yourself, +Thomas, anyhow. Throw some jam at +him and then let bygones be bygones. +But don't be long, because there's a +good view coming."</p> + +<p>The good view came, and then +another and another, and they merged +together and became one long moving +panorama of beauty. We stood in the +corridor and drank it in ... and at +intervals we said "Oh-h!" and "Oh, +I say!" and "Oh, I say, <i>really!</i>" And +there was one particular spot—I wish +I could remember where, so that it +might be marked by a suitable tablet—at +the sight of which Simpson was +overheard to say "<i>Mon Dieu</i>!" for +(probably) the first time in his life.</p> + +<p>"You know, all these are olive trees, +you chaps," he said every five minutes. +"I wonder if there are any olives +growing on them?"</p> + +<p>"Too early," said Archie. "It's the +sardine season now."</p> + +<p>It was at Cannes that we saw the +first oranges.</p> + +<p>"That does it," I said to Myra. +"We're really here. And look, there's +a lemon tree. Give me the oranges +and lemons and you can have all the +palms and the cactuses and the olives."</p> + +<p>"Like polar bears in the arctic +region," said Myra.</p> + +<p>I thought for a moment. Superficially +there is very little resemblance +between an orange and a polar bear.</p> + +<p>"Like polar bears," I said hopefully.</p> + +<p>"I mean," luckily she went on, +"polar bears do it for you in the polar +regions. You really know you're there +then. Give me the polar bears, I always +say, and you can keep the seals and the +walruses and the penguins. It's the +hall-mark."</p> + +<p>"Eight. I knew you meant something. +In London," I went on, "it +is raining. Looking out of my window +I see a lamp-post (not in flower) beneath +a low grey sky. Here we see +oranges against a blue sky a million +miles deep. What a blend! Myra, +let's go to a fancy-dress ball when we +got back. You go as an orange and +I'll go as a very blue, blue sky, and +you shall lean against me."</p> + +<p>"And we'll dance the tangerine," +said Myra.</p> + +<p>But now observe us approaching +Monte Carlo. For an hour past Simpson +has been collecting his belongings. +Two bags, two coats, a camera, a rug, +Thomas, golf-clubs, books—his compartment +is full of things which have +to be kept under his eye lest they +should evade him at the last moment. +As the train leaves Monaco his excitement +is intense.</p> + +<p>"I think, old chap," he says to +Thomas, "I'll wear the coats after +all."</p> + +<p>"And the bags," says Thomas, "and +then you'll have a suit."</p> + +<p>Simpson puts on the two coats and +appears very big and hot.</p> + +<p>"I'd better have my hands free," he +says, and straps the camera and the +golf clubs on to himself. "Then if you +nip out and get a porter I can hand the +bags out to him through the window."</p> + +<p>"All right," says Thomas. He is +deep in his book and looks as if he were +settled in his corner of the carriage for +the day.</p> + +<p>The train stops. There is bustle, +noise, confusion. Thomas in some +magical way has disappeared. A porter +appears at the open window and speaks +voluble French to Simpson. Simpson +looks round wildly for Thomas. +"Thomas!" he cries. "<i>Un moment</i>," he +says to the porter. "Thomas! <i>Mon ami, +il n'est pas</i>——I say, Thomas, old +chap, where are you? <i>Attendez un moment. +Mon ami</i>—er—<i>reviendra</i>——"He +is very hot. He is wearing, in +addition to what one doesn't mention, +an ordinary waistcoat, a woolly waist-coat +for steamer use, a tweed coat, an +aquascutum, an ulster, a camera and a +bag of golf clubs. The porter, with +many gesticulations, is still hurling +French at him.</p> + +<p>It is too much for Simpson. He +puts his head out of the window and, +observing in the distance a figure of +such immense dignity that it can only +belong to the station-master, utters to +him across the hurly-burly a wild call +for help.</p> + +<p>"<i>Où est</i> <span class="sc">Cook's</span> <i>homme</i>?" he cries.</p> + +<p>A. A. M.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"THE GREAT CONFLICT.</p> + +<p>1886——1914——?</p> + +<p><span class="sc">The End is Not Yet</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">To-morrow</span>."</p> + +<p><i>Observer.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Well, well! After twenty-eight years +we can wait another day.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">Essay club</span>: <i>March 1st</i>. The Poetry of +John Masefield, <i>or</i> Vegetarianism—is it more +Humane?"—<i>Time and Talents.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Less blood-stained, anyhow.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>From a letter in <i>The Natal Mercury</i> +headed "Butter through the Post":—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"We send it to Donnybrook by the quickest +method, i.e., on the post-card." +</p></blockquote> + +<p>We have often found some on our post-cards.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page209" id="page209"></a>[pg 209]</span> + +<h2>THE GALLANT SONS OF MARS.</h2> + +<blockquote class="note"><p> +"A troop of the Queen's Bays, 2nd Dragoon Guards, while galloping +past the Royal Pavilion at Aldershot, observed a woman fall from her +bicycle in a faint.</p> + +<p>"They instantly drew rein, and, dismounting, assisted her to the 5th +Dragoon Guards orderly room, where they vied with each other in giving +her every possible attention.</p> + +<p>"She speedily recovered and was able to resume her journey to +Farnborough."—<i>Daily Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/209a.png"><img width="100%" src="images/209a.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">A young lady, while walking by a kiosk in which the +band of the Royal Heavies was performing, by a mischance got a fly in +her eye. Perceiving her plight, the bandsmen immediately ceased playing +and ran to her assistance, each contesting with the other to remove the +offending insect.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/209b.png"><img width="100%" src="images/209b.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">In a high wind last week on Laffan's Plain an old +gentleman lost his umbrella. Some Lancers taking part in a sham fight at +once went in pursuit and speedily restored the recalcitrant article to +its grateful owner.</span></p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/209c.png"><img width="100%" src="images/209c.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Last Saturday, while at play, a small boy had the +misfortune to lose his hold of a toy-balloon. A squadron of the Army +Flying Corps, witnessing the little fellow's grief, at once rendered +assistance and, with the aid of a monoplane, quickly retrieved the +bauble.</span></p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page210" id="page210"></a>[pg 210]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/210.png"><img width="100%" src="images/210.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Lady (to elderly and confidential maid)</i>. <span class="sc">"I've +often wondered why you've never married, Simpson</span>?"</p> + +<p><i>Simpson (disdainfully)</i>. "<span class="sc">I don't like men in any form, my lady</span>."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE WILD SWAN.</h2> + +<blockquote class="note">Lament on a very rare bird who recently appeared in +England and was immediately shot.</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Over the sea (ye maids) a wild swan came;</p> +<p class="i2">(O maidens) it was but the other day;</p> +<p>Men saw him as he passed, with earnest aim</p> +<p class="i2">To some sequestered spot down Norfolk way—</p> +<p>A thing whose like had not been seen for years:</p> +<p><i>Lament, ye damsels, nor refuse your tears</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Serene, he winged his alabaster flight</p> +<p class="i2">Neath the full beams of the mistaken sun</p> +<p>O'er gazing crowds, till at th' unwonted sight</p> +<p class="i2">Some unexpected sportsman with a gun</p> +<p>Brought down the bird, all fluff, mid sounding cheers:</p> +<p><i>Mourn, maidens, mourn, and wipe the thoughtful tears</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Well you may weep. No common bird was he.</p> +<p class="i2">Has it not long been known, the whole world wide,</p> +<p>A wild swan is a prince of faerie,</p> +<p class="i2">Who comes in such disguise to choose his bride</p> +<p>From those of humble lot and tame careers,</p> +<p><i>Of whom I now require some punctual tears</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Wherefore, I say, let every scullion-wench</p> +<p class="i2">Grieve, nor the dairy-maid from sobs refrain;</p> +<p>The sad postmistress, too, should feel the wrench,</p> +<p class="i2">And the lone tweeny of her loss complain;</p> +<p>Let one—let all afflict the listening spheres:</p> +<p><i>Deplore, ye maids, his fate with rueful tears</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It was for these he sought this teeming land,</p> +<p>High on the silvery wings of old romance;</p> +<p>One knows not where; he had bestowed his hand,</p> +<p>But e'en the least had stood an equal chance</p> +<p>Of such fair triumph, o'er her bitter peers</p> +<p><i>And the sweet pleasure of their anguished tears</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>O prince of faerie! O stately swan!</p> +<p class="i2">And ye, whose hopes are with the might-have-beens,</p> +<p>Curst be the wretch through whom those hopes have gone,</p> +<p class="i2">Who blew your magic swain to smithereens;</p> +<p>Let your full-sorrows whelm his stricken ears;</p> +<p><i>Lament, ye damsels, nor refuse your tears</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Dum-dum</span>.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>The Lady's Realm</i> on a new film:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"The cost from first to last amounted to £12,000 ... The entire +cast—an enormous one, numbering eight thousand people ... visited +Rome and the Nile." +</p></blockquote> + +<p>This decides us where to spend our holidays. To do +Rome and the Nile for £1 10<i>s.</i> a head is not a chance to +be missed.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>It has been asked, "Where were the police?" Here is +the answer:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"The six cuts appeared to have been inflicted with the cutting edge +of a chopper, and the seventh with the flat part of the end of the +copper."—<i>Manchester Guardian.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Robert (putting his foot through the picture)</i>: "May as +well make a job of it."</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page211" id="page211"></a>[pg 211]</span> + +<h3>THE LATEST VELASQUITH.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/211.png"><img width="100%" src="images/211.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">Mr. Punch</span> (<i>to Mr. <span class="sc">Bonar Law</span></i>) +"DON'T HACK IT ABOUT NOW. YOU'LL HAVE TWO CHANCES IN THE NEXT SIX +YEARS."</p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page213" id="page213"></a>[pg 213]</span> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<h3>(<span class="sc">Extracted from the Diary of Toby, M.P.</span>)</h3> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Monday, March 9.</i>—When +on conclusion of Questions the +<span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> rose to move Second +Reading of Home Rule Bill, House +presented appearance seen only once +or twice in lifetime of a Parliament. +Chamber crowded from floor to topmost +bench of Strangers' Gallery. +Members who could not find seats +made for the side galleries, filling +both rows two deep. Still later comers +patiently stood at the Bar throughout +the full hour occupied by the historic +speech. A group more comfortably +settled themselves on the steps of the +<span class="sc">Speaker's</span> Chair. The principal nations +of the world were represented in the +Diplomatic Gallery by their ambassadors. +As for the peers, they fought +for places in limited space allotted to +them with the energy of messenger-boys +paid to secure places in the queue +of first night of new play at popular +theatre.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:40%;"><a href="images/213a.png"><img width="100%" src="images/213a.png" alt=""/></a><p>MIJNHEER KAARSON. +(<i>The New Orange Free Stater.</i>)</p> + +<p>[Mr. <span class="sc">William O'Brien</span> referred to Ulster +as the new "Orange" Free State, which has +just received official recognition.]</p></div> + +<p>Entering while Questions were in +progress <span class="sc">Premier</span> was received with +rousing cheer. Renewed with fuller +force when he stood at the Table +to discharge his momentous task. That +the enthusiasm was largely testimony +to personal popularity and esteem appeared +from what followed. Weighed +down with gravity of responsibility, as +he unfolded his plan he found lacking +the inspiration of continuous outbursts +of cheering that usually punctuate +important speeches by Party leaders.</p> + +<p>Radicals and Nationalists were prepared +to accept his concessions to +Ulster feeling; but they did not like +them. <span class="sc">Redmond's</span> declaration that the +<span class="sc">Premier</span> "has gone to the very extremest +limits of concession" drew from +Ministerialists a more strident cheer +than any accorded to their Leader as +he expounded his plan.</p> + +<p>Consciousness of this significant luke-warmness +reacted upon <span class="sc">Premier</span>. He +spoke with unusual slowness, further +developing tendency of recent growth +to drop his voice at end of sentence.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bonner Law</span> studiously quiet in +manner, moderate in speech. Nevertheless, +perhaps therefore, made it +clear that <span class="sc">Premier's</span> overtures, unloved +by his followers, will not be welcomed +by Opposition. <span class="sc">Carson</span>, who had enthusiastic +reception from Unionists, +flashed forth epigram that put Ulster's +view in a phrase.</p> + +<p>"We don't want sentence of death," +he said, "with a stay of execution for +six years."</p> + +<p>Circumstances provided <span class="sc">Tim Healy's</span> +opportunity. Seized it with both hands. +On behalf of Liberal Party, <span class="sc">Premier</span> +proposed the vivisection of Ireland. +<span class="sc">John Redmond</span> consented. Plan submitted +was that four counties of Ulster +might, if they pleased, be excluded +from operation of Home Rule Act for +period of six years.</p> + +<p>"Would any sane Britisher," <span class="sc">Tim</span> +asked, "embark upon civil war for the +difference between six years and 666 +years?" As he mentioned the Number +of the Beast <span class="sc">Tim</span> turned to regard the +Irish Leader perched in corner seat at +top of Gangway. "Why should not +the hon. gentleman give up that, as he +has given up everything else? The +remains of his principles ornament +every step of the Gangway."</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Second Reading of +Home Rule Bill moved. Debate adjourned +for indefinite period.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—Prospect of <span class="sc">Chancellor +of Exchequer</span> brought up at Bar by +<span class="sc">Randles</span> and <span class="sc">Cassel</span> attracted big +House in spite of trial opening in mid-dinner-hour. +As the quarters of an +hour sped benches continued to fill up +till, when <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span> rose to offer +his defence (which speedily merged into +form of attack), there were fully live +hundred present.</p> + +<p>Prisoner indicted on grounds of +repeated inaccuracy, particularly on +account of ineradicable tendency to +speak disrespectfully of dukes. Nothing +could be nicer than manner of +prosecuting counsel. They were there +to discharge a public duty as champions +of the truth, vindicators of desirable +habit of abstention from exaggeration.</p> + +<p>"I am," said <span class="sc">Randles</span>, "not here +to be personally disagreeable to the +<span class="sc">Chancellor of the Exchequer</span>, +whom I have always found genial and +courteous."</p> + +<p>As for the junior counsel, he was +affected almost to tears in prospect of +task jointly committed to him.</p> + +<p>"I do not wish," he said in his opening +sentence, "to make anything I say +more offensive or unpleasant than—than +the necessities of the case warrant."</p> + +<p>Ribald Radicals laughed loudly at +this way of putting it. With the more +sober-minded its ingenuousness had +favourable effect, maintained throughout +admirable speech.</p> + +<p>No one enjoyed the affair more than +prisoner at the bar. Like his great +prototype, <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span> is never so +happy as when, with back against wall, +he turns to face an attacking host.</p> + +<p>"Reminds me of days that are no +more," said the <span class="sc">Member for Sark</span>, +looking on animated scene from modest +quarters on a back bench. "Feel thirty +years younger. Am transported as by +a magical Eastern carpet to times when +<span class="sc">Don José</span> rushed about the country, +fluttering his Unauthorised Programme, +bearding barons in their dens, lashing +out at landlords, and unceremoniously +digging dukes in the ribs, what time +a pack of scandalised Tories barked +furiously at his heels. <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span> +is an able man, courageous to boot, +endowed with gift of turning out sentences +that dwell in the memory, +delighting some hearers, rankling in +hearts of others. After all, he is +but a replica, excellently done I admit, +of the greatest work of art in the way +of Parliamentary and political debate +known to this generation."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:40%;"><a href="images/213b.png"><img width="100%" src="images/213b.png" alt=""/></a><p>The only bird that, in Mr. <span class="sc">Tim Healy's</span> +view, requires the sympathies (if not contempt) +of the Plumage Bill.</p></div> + +<p>Even while <span class="sc">Sark</span> murmured his confidences +to his neighbour they were +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page214" id="page214"></a>[pg 214]</span> +pointed by dramatic turn in lively +speech. Among charges of inaccuracy +specially cited was <span class="sc">Lloyd George's</span> +description of the Highland clearances, +whereby, he asserted, "thousands of +people were driven from their holdings +by the exercise of the arbitrary power +of the landlord." "I will give you an +authority for that," he said, and proceeded +to read a passage of burning +eloquence, in which multitudes of hardworking, +God-fearing people were depicted +as driven from the land that had +belonged to their ancestors, their cottages +unroofed, themselves turned out +homeless and forlorn.</p> + +<p>"Who said that?" scornfully inquired +an incautious Member seated +opposite.</p> + +<p>Quick came the reply. +"The Right Honourable +Member for West Birmingham," +the <span class="sc">Chancellor</span> +answered in blandest tones.</p> + +<p>Followed up this neatly +inserted thrust by quoting +from Tory newspapers, platform +and Parliamentary +speeches what was said of +<span class="sc">Don José</span> in those his unregenerate +days. Some of +them curiously identical +with those in use just now +for edification and reproof +of another public man.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—<span class="sc">Chancellor +of Exchequer</span> +indicted for habitual inaccuracy, +gross and unfounded +personal attacks on +individuals. Vote of censure +negatived by 304 votes +against 240.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:40%;"><a href="images/214.png"><img width="100%" src="images/214.png" alt=""/></a><p>THE CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER +as seen by his opponents and by his admirers.</p></div> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—Major <span class="sc">John +Augustus Hope</span>, late of +the King's Royal Rifle Corps, nearly +had his breath taken away at Question +time. Close student of methods of +<span class="sc">Worthington Evans</span>, <i>Mrs. Gummidge</i> +of Parliamentary life, not yet +recovered from depression as he sits +below Gangway "thinking of the +old 'un" (<span class="sc">Masterman</span>). The Major has +of late displayed much industry in devising +abstruse conundrums designed to +bring to light dark places in working +of Insurance Act. In <span class="sc">Masterman's</span> +enforced and regretted absence, duty of +replying to this class of Question on +behalf of Minister undertaken by <span class="sc">Wedgwood +Benn</span>, whose sprightly though +always courteous replies greatly amuse +both sides.</p> + +<p>To-day the Major fired off, as it wore +from a mitrailleuse, volley of minute +questions involving prolonged research +on part of Minister to whom they were +addressed. Before the smoke had quite +cleared away <span class="sc">Benn</span> rose, remarked, "I +assure the honourable and gallant gentleman +he is totally incorrect," and +resumed his seat.</p> + +<p>The Major gasped. After devotion +of precious time to looking up material +for his conundrums, after skill and +labour bestowed in shaping them, was +this the result? Every hair on his +head bristled with indignation. His +voice choked with anger. His eye, +accustomed to survey other battlefields, +gleamed on the laughing faces that +confronted him. Unseemly merriment +increased as he attempted to put Supplementary +Questions, which got unaccountably +mixed up between Section +72 of the National Insurance Act, 1911, +and the provision of Insurance Regulations +(No. 2) (Scotland).</p> + +<p>If the Major survives shock more +will be heard of this.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—In Committee on +Army Estimates.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A BOOK OF THE DAY.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc"><i>The Life-Story of a Turnip.</i> By Ato +Mato</span>, F.R.V.S. Illustrated in colour. +<span class="sc">Messrs. Tuber, Root and Co.</span> Price 3<i>s.</i> net.</p> + +<p>(Reviewed by A. D. Ryan, M.A.)</p> + +<p>There have been autobiographical +studies of the animal world; why not +of the vegetable? This is a delightful +monograph, executed with consummate +skill and verisimilitude throughout. +The author, who holds the Professorship +of Cereal Metaphysics at the +University of Tokio, has devoted the +greater part of his life to the study of +the vegetable kingdom; and we need +hardly remind our readers of the exceedingly +interesting treatise, entitled +"The Psychology of the Cabbage," +which appeared in a recent issue of +the <i>Carnifugal Quarterly</i>.</p> + +<p>It is indeed time for a more scientific +treatment of vegeto-animal phenomenon; +and Mr. Mato is the pioneer of a +science which, we hope, will soon receive +the attention which it undoubtedly +deserves. The present volume is +in its way a masterpiece. The author +has successfully avoided treating his +subject from a too human point of +view, and we are paying him a very +high compliment when we say that +the more we study the work the more +we are impressed with what we may +best describe as the "vegetability" of +the writer's mind. The book is racy +of the soil; it is written in a charming +and convincing style, and bears the +stamp of imaginative originality. +An acquaintance +to whom we lent the book +admirably expresses the +impression we had formed +of it by saying that it +might have been written by +<span class="sc">Eustace</span> or <span class="sc">Hallie Miles</span>. +It is characterised throughout +by the lofty and +detached spirit in which +a cultured turnip would +view the troubled course +of mundane events. The +sentiments expressed on +such questions as Woman +Suffrage, Home Rule, <span class="sc">Lloyd +George's</span> land policy, +though inevitably Radical +in tendency, are admirably +sane and unbiassed. We +cannot do better, if we +would convey to our readers +some conception of the +general tone of the work, +than quote the opening +paragraph:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"I was born of humble but worthy parents, +but the first years" [weeks?] "of my existence +were embittered by the loss of both father and +mother. My father, who was then in the prime +of life, was torn one day from the bosom of his +family, tied up in a sack, and taken with +some two hundred fellow-sufferers to a slaughter-house, +where he was cruelly butchered. +Still more tragic was the end of my dear +mother. Like my father she was dragged +away from her native soil. She was then +hurled into an empty shed, where for many +days she languished, deprived of both food +and light. At last she was thrown into a +tumbril with some five hundred unfortunates, +carted to a neighbouring farm, thence deported +in strict captivity to <span class="sc">Covent Garden</span>, +and finally conveyed to the sumptuous household +of Mr. <span class="sc">Bernard Shaw</span>, who devoured +her in three gulps." +</p></blockquote> + +<p>From this poignant passage the +reader may see for himself the profound +understanding which Mr. Mato +has brought to bear on his theme. We +commend this book to all lovers of +nature.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page215" id="page215"></a>[pg 215]</span> + +<h2>THE CINEMA HABIT.</h2> + +<p>The writer of "The Ideal Film Plot," +which appeared in a recent issue of +<i>Punch</i>, has quoted an "authority" +(anonymous) for the approval of his +scenario. It is quite evident that this +"authority" (so-styled) must belong +to the plebeian ranks of the film-world. +It cannot reside in <i>our</i> suburb.</p> + +<p>Our cinema theatre is, I venture to +state, of a far superior order, both as +to drama and as to morality. It is not +a mere lantern-hall, close and stuffy, +with twopenny and fourpenny seats +(half-price to children, and tea provided +free at <i>matinée</i> performances), but a +white-and-gold Picturedrome, catering +to an exclusive class of patrons at sixpence +and a shilling, with neat attendants +in dove-grey who atomise scent +about the aisles, two palms, one at each +side of the proscenium (<i>real</i> palms), and, +in addition to a piano, a mustel organ +to accompany the pathetic passages in +the films. Moreover, the commissionaire +outside, whose medals prove that +he has seen service in the Charge of +the Light Brigade, the Black Hole of +Calcutta, and the Great Raid on the +House of Commons in 1910, is not one +of those blatant-voiced showmen who +clamour for patronage; he is a quiet +and dignified réceptionnaire, content to +rely on the fame and good repute of +his theatre. Sometimes evening dress +(from "The Laburnums," Meadowsweet +Avenue, who are on the Stock Exchange) +is to be seen in the more +expensive seats.</p> + +<p>It is unquestionably a high-class +Picturedrome. True that the local +dentist, who is a stickler for correct +English, protests against the designation. +I have pointed out to him that +if a "Hippodrome" is a place where +one sees performing hippos, then surely +a place where one sees performing +pictures is correctly styled a "Picturedrome."</p> + +<p>I am acquiring the cinema habit.</p> + +<p>It is very restful. Each film is preceded +on the screen by a certificate +showing that its morality has been +guaranteed by Mr. <span class="sc">Redford</span>. I have +complete confidence in Mr. <span class="sc">Redford's</span> +sense of propriety. If, for instance, a +bedroom scene is shown and a lady +is about to change her gown, one's +advance blushes are needless. That +film will be arrested at the loosing of +the first hook or button. Virtue will +always be plainly triumphant and vice +as plainly vanquished. Even the minor +imperfections of character will be suitably +punished. When on the screen +we see Daisy, the flighty college girl, +borrowing without permission her +friend's hat, gown, shoes, necklace and +curls in order to make a fascinating +display before her young college man, +it is certain that she will be publicly +shamed by her friends and discredited +in the eyes of her lover whose affections +she seeks to win in this unmoral fashion.</p> + +<p>On the screen we shall be sure to +meet many old friends. The young +American society nuts, in square-rigged +coats, spacious trousers, and knobbly +shoes, will buzz around the pretty girl +like flies around a honey-pot, clamouring +for the privilege of presenting her +with a twenty-dollar bouquet of +American Beauty roses. The bouquet +she accepts will be the hero's; and the +other nuts will then group themselves +in the background while she registers +a glad but demure smile full in the eye +of the camera.</p> + +<p>The hero, however, loses his paternal +expectations in the maelstrom of Wall +Street. Throwing off his coat—literally, +because at the cinema we are left in no +doubt as to intentions—he resolves to +go "out West" and retrieve the family +fortunes.</p> + +<p>Our old friends the cow-boys meet +him at the wooden shack which represents +the railway station at Waybackville, +registering great glee at the +prospect of hazing a tenderfoot. We +know full well that he will eventually +win their respect and high regard—probably +by foiling a dastardly plot on +the part of a Mexican half-breed—and +we are therefore in no anxiety of mind +when they raise the dust around his +feet with their six-shooters, toss him +in a blanket or entice him on to a +meek-looking, but in reality record-busting, +broncho.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the drama we look +forward to the "chases," and we are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page216" id="page216"></a>[pg 216]</span> +never disappointed. Our pursued hero, +attired in the picturesque bandarilleros +of shaggy mohair and the open-throated +shirterino of the West, will race through +the tangled thickets of the picadoro-trees; +thunder down the crumbling +banks of amontillados so steep that +the camera probably gets a crick in +the neck looking up at him; ride the +foaming torrent with one hand clasping +the mane of his now tamed broncho, +and the other hand triggering his +shooting-iron; and eventually fall exhausted +from the horse at the very +doorstep of the ranch, one arm, pinged +by a dastardly rifle-bullet, dangling +helplessly by his side. (It is, by the +way, always the arm or shoulder; the +cinema never allows him to get it distressingly +in the leg or in the neck.)</p> + +<p>In the ultimate, with the wounded +arm in a sling, he will tenderly embrace +the heroine through a hundred feet of +film, she meanwhile registering great +joy and trustfulness, until the scene +slowly darkens into blackness, and the +screen suddenly announces that the +next item on the programme will be +No. 7, Exclusive to the Picturedrome.</p> + +<p>We are greatly favoured with "exclusives." +It may be possible that +other suburbs have these films, but it +must be second-hand, after we have +finished with them. The names of +the artistes who create the <i>róles</i> are +announced on the screen: "<i>Captain +Jack Reckless</i>—Mr. Courcy van Highball," +or it maybe "<i>Juliet</i>, Miss +Mamie Euffles." Or it is a film taken +at the local regatta or athletic sports, +and the actors in it include all the +notabilities of the district. We flock +to see how we (or our neighbours) look +on the screen, and enjoy a hearty laugh +when the scullers of "The Laburnums" +register a crab full in the eye of the +camera, or "The Oleanders" canoe +receives a plenteous backwash from a +river-steamer.</p> + +<p>But the staple fare is drama—red-blooded +drama, where one is never in +doubt as to who is in love with whom, +and how much. Sometimes, to be +frank, there is a passing flirtation, due +to pique, between a wife and a third +party, leading to misunderstandings, +complications and blank despair on the +part of the husband; but as there is +always a "little one" somewhere in +the background, we are never anxious +as to the final outcome. It will end +with the husband embracing the repentant +(but stainless) wife, and at the +same time extending a manly hand of +reconciliation to the third party.</p> + +<p>We also like the dying fiddler (with +visions) and the motor-car splurges—especially +the latter. In our daily life +we are plagued with motor-cars, cycle-cars +and motor-cycle side-cars, being +on a highroad from London town to +the country; but on the screen we +adore them.</p> + +<p>The cinema is very restful. There +are no problems to vex the moral judgment; +no psychological doubts; no +anxieties. It will be "the mixture as +before," ending in the loving, lingering +kiss.</p> + +<p>Say what you will of Mr. <span class="sc">Redford</span>, +he never deprives us of the kiss.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/215.png"><img width="100%" src="images/215.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Gladys</i> (<i>who has been told she may see her +convalescent Daddy, but fails to recognise him with ten days' growth of +beard</i>). "<span class="sc">Mummy, Mummy, Daddy's not there; but there's a +burglarer in his bed</span>."</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WATER ON THE BRAIN.</h2> + +<p>Some interesting revelations have +been published in <i>The Daily Mail</i> on +the tonic effect of the bath on our +greatest workers, notably stockbrokers, +novelists and actors.</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Arthur Bourchier</span> declared that +he read plays in the bath and that the +best results were obtained by those +selected either in the bath or on a long +railway journey. "A man," he added, +"is always at his best in his bath." +Again, Mr. <span class="sc">Charles Garvice</span>, the +famous novelist, said that he always +felt intensely musical while having his +bath, though the ideas for his stories +came chiefly while he was shaving.</p> + +<p>We are glad to be able to supplement +these revelations with some further +testimony from the <i>élite</i> of the world +of letters.</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Clement Shorter</span>, in the course +of an interesting interview, spoke eloquently +on the daily renewal of the +bath. From the day when he first +became a Wet Bob at Eton he had +never wavered in his devotion to +matutinal and vespertinal ablutions. +In fact, his philosophy on this point +might be summed up in the quatrain:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>A bath in the morning</p> +<p>Is the bookman's adorning;</p> +<p>A bath at night</p> +<p>Is the bookman's delight.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>His ideal form of exercise was a ride in +a bath-chair, just as his favourite diet +was bath-chaps and bath-buns. For the +rest he found that the ideas of his best +pars came to him while he was using a +scrubbing-brush which had belonged to +Posh, <span class="sc">Edward FitzGerald's</span> boatman.</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Laurence Binyon</span>, the poet and +art critic, confessed that some of his +choicest lyrics had been composed when +he was using a loofah. But it must be +applied rhythmically, to the accompaniment +of a soft hissing sound such as +was affected by stable-hands when +grooming high-mettled steeds. Mr. +<span class="sc">Binyon</span> added that it was a curious +thing that while frequent references +abounded in the classics to drinking +from the Pierian spring, no mention +occurred of bathing in it. But the +divine afflatus no doubt worked differently +in different ages. <span class="sc">Diogenes</span> lived +in a tub, but there was no evidence +that he ever took one.</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Percy Fitzgerald</span>, in reply to +a request for his views on the subject, +said that he considered soap and water +to be an invaluable intellectual stimulant. +<span class="sc">Dickens</span> was a great believer in +it; so, too, was <i>Lady Macbeth</i> and the +famous Bishop <span class="sc">Wilberforce</span>, known +as "Soapy Sam" from his excessive +addiction to detergents. <span class="sc">Charles +Lever</span>, again, whom he knew intimately, +had a passion for washing +and, so he believed, started a soap +factory, which was still in existence.</p> + +<p>The Baroness <span class="sc">Orczy</span> pointed out to +our representative that there was a +natural harmony between different +sorts of baths and different styles of +composition. For heroic romance, cold +baths were indispensable. For the +novel of sensation she recommended +champagne with a dash of ammoniated +quinine. Similarly with regard to the +use of soaps. Thus in any of her stories +in which royalty, played a prominent +part she found it impossible to dispense +with Old Brown Windsor.</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Max Beerbohm</span> contented himself +by cordially endorsing Mr. <span class="sc">Arthur +Bourchier's</span> statement that he was (if +ever) at his best in his bath.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>IN MARCH.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>There is cloud and a splash of blue sky overhead,</p> +<p>And the road by the common's the brave road to tread;</p> +<p class="i4">You miss all your neighbours,</p> +<p class="i6">And hear the wind play</p> +<p class="i4">His pipes and his tabors</p> +<p class="i6">Along the king's way.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>From the elms at the corner the rooks tumble out</p> +<p>To dance you Sir Roger in clamorous rout;</p> +<p class="i4">For all honest people</p> +<p class="i6">There's gold on the whin,</p> +<p class="i4">And bells in the steeple,</p> +<p class="i6">And ale at the inn.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The brewer's brown horses, they shine in the sun,</p> +<p>And each of the team must weigh nearly a ton.</p> +<p class="i4">They stamp and they sidle,</p> +<p class="i6">Their great necks they arch,</p> +<p class="i4">And snatch at the bridle</p> +<p class="i6">This morning of March.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>For Winter is over, you see the fine sights—</p> +<p>The geese on the common, the boys flying kites,</p> +<p class="i4">The daffydowndillies</p> +<p class="i6">That stoop on the stem,</p> +<p class="i4">And my pretty Phyllis</p> +<p class="i6">Who's gathering them.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" id="page217"></a>[pg 217]</span> + +<h2>SIGNERS OF THE TIMES.</h2> + +<p>Ralston came into the railway +carriage with a fountain-pen and a +huge sheet of official-looking paper.</p> + +<p>"Pardon my intrusion," he said. +"This is a non-party business. I am +just getting a few signatures——"</p> + +<p>"Don't apologise, Sir," interrupted +Baffin. "I am delighted to see a young +man like you working in such a cause. +Every loyal Englishman, unless blindly +ignorant or filled with Radical spite, +will be delighted to sign it."</p> + +<p>Grabbing the fountain-pen he scribbled +the imposing signature, "James +Baffin, Hughenden, Tulse Hill."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't involve any financial +responsibility?" enquired Macdougal +with a touch of national caution.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. You just sign," +replied Ralston.</p> + +<p>Down went the name of Luke Macdougal.</p> + +<p>Wilcox had to have his attention +drawn to the petition because he pretended +to be absorbed in <i>The Times</i>—reading +it with the attachment of an +old subscriber, though we all knew he +had only taken it for two days.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Wilcox, "at the +present moment I could not think of +taking any active part in military +operations myself, but I am sure my +son-in-law——"</p> + +<p>"You are not supposed to do anything +but sign," said Ralston.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, certainly, I'll be very +pleased to sign. My son-in-law is a +most determined young fellow and feels +most strongly on this point."</p> + +<p>And Mr. Wilcox amiably offered up +his son-in-law as a vicarious sacrifice.</p> + +<p>Dodham was a little dubious. "You +see I'm not a politician," he began.</p> + +<p>"Politics have nothing to do with +it," said Ralston.</p> + +<p>"No one, Sir, but an abject coward," +broke in Baffin, "would shrink from +saving his country at such a critical +moment."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Dodham, "one can't be +far wrong when non-party men like +<span class="sc">Kipling</span> and <span class="sc">George Alexander</span> are +signing. I think I shall be justified."</p> + +<p>The name of J. Percival Dodham was +added to the list.</p> + +<p>Ralston turned to me. "You will +sign, old man?"</p> + +<p>"No, thanks," I said. "Signed a +teetotal-pledge when I was six, and my +aunts have brought it up against me +ever since. Besides I haven't a father-in-law +to take my place."</p> + +<p>We stopped at a station.</p> + +<p>"I'm off," said Ralston; "got to +rake up more signatures."</p> + +<p>Four men glared contemptuously at +me for the rest of the journey. I don't +know whether they regarded me as a +miserable Little Englander or a wicked +Big Irelander.</p> + +<p>When we reached Ludgate Hill I +saw Ralston standing triumphantly on +the platform.</p> + +<p>"Done well to-day?" I queried.</p> + +<p>"Oceans of signatures."</p> + +<p>I glanced over his shoulder and saw +that the printing on the outer sheet +began, "To the Manager, S. E. and +L. C. D. Railway Companies."</p> + +<p>"What's he got to do with this +thing?" I demanded.</p> + +<p>"Everything," explained Ralston +amiably. "It's a petition to run the +8.42 ten minutes earlier. I can't get +to the office by 9.15 as it is."</p> + +<p>"What," I cried, "have all your +miserable dupes been signing away ten +minutes of their breakfast time?"</p> + +<p>Ralston winked at me. "I've just +got to go into a carriage and say it's +non-political and they jump to sign it. +Signing's a sort of habit nowadays. +Not my fault if they don't listen to +explanations."</p> + +<p>My heart thrilled as I thought of what +the brave men would say who, under +the impression they were merely promising +their own or their relations' +blood, had tragically shortened their +breakfast hour. Talk of revolutions! +Look out for a revolution in the Tulse +Hill district when the 8.42 becomes +the 8.32!</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/217.png"><img width="100%" src="images/217.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Temperance Worker</i> (<i>paying a surprise visit to +the home of his pet convert</i>). "<span class="sc">Does Mr. McMurdoch live +here?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. McMurdoch.</i> "<span class="sc">Aye; carry him in!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" id="page218"></a>[pg 218]</span> + +<h2>MR. BALFOUR: MIXED DOUBLE LIFE.</h2> + +<h3>(From our Special Correspondent.)</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">Nice</span>, <i>Monday</i>.</p> + +<p>"I must confess that I felt somewhat +nervous," said Mr. <span class="sc">Balfour</span> after the +match, as he sipped a split sal-volatile +and cinnamon, "but not so nervous as +I was in the singles. But it was the +first time that I ever stood up to the +twin-screw service which Baron von +Stosch uses so cleverly, and once or +twice I was beaten by the swerve." +But his partner, the famous Basque +amateur, Mme. Jauréguiberry, +was loud in his praises. "He +played like a statesman and a +diplomatist," she said. The +Grand Duke <span class="sc">Michael</span> was also +greatly impressed and made a +neat <i>mot</i>. "His fore-hand drives," +he said, "were worthy of a driver +of a four-in-hand." Mr. <span class="sc">Balfour</span>, +it should be noted, wore brown +tennis shoes with rubber soles, +unlike Sir <span class="sc">Oliver Lodge</span>, who +always golfs in white buckskin +boots. His shirt was of some +soft material and was marked +with his name on a tape, "A. J. +<span class="sc">Balfour</span>. 6. 1913."</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Details of the Game.</span></p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Balfour</span> started serving, +and the first two games fell to +him and his partner owing to a +certain wildness in the returns of +Princess Pongo, a Nigerian lady +of remarkable agility who has +only been playing tennis for the +last three months, as, owing to +the laws of the Hausa tribe, +mixed tennis is strictly forbidden +in Nigeria. The Princess was, +however, well backed up by her +partner, the Baron von Stosch, an +athletic Prussian with a powerful +smash, and after five games all +had been called the set fell to the ex-<span class="sc">Premier</span> +and his partner. In the second +set a regrettable incident occurred, a +ball skidding off Mr. <span class="sc">Balfour</span>'s +racquet into the eye of the Grand Duke +Uriel, who was acting as umpire. Mr. +<span class="sc">Balfour</span> was much upset by the <i>contretemps</i>, +and repeatedly sliced his drive +into the net, remarking, "Dear, dear," +on two occasions.</p> + +<p>The activity of the Princess Pongo, +who wore a tasteful <i>toque</i> surmounted +by a stuffed baby gorilla, was much +admired, and when the score was called +"one set all," the enthusiasm of the +bystanders knew no bounds. A slight +delay was caused by the arrival of a +telegram for Mr. <span class="sc">Balfour</span>, announcing +that, in view of the grave importance +of the present political situation, <i>The +Times</i> had been reduced to a penny. +This he perused with deep emotion. +On the resumption of the game, however, +the ex-<span class="sc">Premier</span> at once showed +himself to be in his best form. He +sclaffed several beauties past the Baron, +nonplussed the Nigerian princess by his +luscious lobs, and finished off the set +and match by a wonderful scoop-stroke +which died down like a poached egg.</p> + +<p>Early in the set he gave a remarkable +proof of his detachment. Just as the +Princess was preparing to serve one +of her juiciest undercut strokes, the +tones of a soprano practising her scales +rang out from a neighbouring flat. +"Rather sharp, I think," said Mr. +<span class="sc">Balfour</span>, and the Princess, overcome +by the ready wit of the ex-<span class="sc">Premier</span>, +served four faults in quick succession. +At the conclusion of the game Mr. +<span class="sc">Balfour</span> wiped his face twice with his +handkerchief and signed his name in +the birthday books of several American +heiresses.</p> + +<p>We understand that there is no truth +in the rumour that Mr. <span class="sc">Balfour</span> will +box five rounds with <span class="sc">Carpentier</span> at a +Charity Bazaar and Gymkhana next +Saturday, but hopes are entertained +that he will dance the Ta-tao with the +Princess Pongo, and enter for the +three-legged race with the Grand Duke +Uriel.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>"TO MAKE THE PUNISHMENT FIT THE CRIME."</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/218.png"><img width="100%" src="images/218.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Judge.</i> <span class="sc">"Have you anything to say for yourself +before I sentence you, Prisoner?"</span></p> + +<p><i>Prisoner.</i> <span class="sc">"Yes, your Lordship; I taught your wife +and daughters the Tango."</span></p> + +<p><i>Judge.</i> <span class="sc">"Twenty years."</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>AN IDOL OF THE MARKET PLACE.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Decorum and the butcher's cat</p> +<p class="i2">Are seldom far apart—</p> +<p>From dawn when clouds surmount the air,</p> +<p>Piled like a beauty's powdered hair,</p> +<p>Till dusk, when down the misty square</p> +<p class="i2">Rumbles the latest cart</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He sits in coat of white and grey</p> +<p class="i2">Where the rude cleaver's shock</p> +<p>Horrid from time to time descends,</p> +<p>And his imposing presence lends</p> +<p>Grace to a platform that extends</p> +<p class="i2">Beneath the chopping-block.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>How tranquil are his close-piled cheeks</p> +<p class="i2">His paws, sequestered warm!</p> +<p>An oak-grained panel backs his head</p> +<p>And all the stock-in-trade is spread,</p> +<p>A symphony in white and red,</p> +<p class="i2">Round his harmonious form.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The butcher's brave cerulean garb</p> +<p class="i2">Flutters before his face,</p> +<p>The cleaver dints his little roof</p> +<p>Of furrowed wood; remote, aloof</p> +<p>He sits superb and panic-proof</p> +<p class="i2">In his accustomed place.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Threading the columned county hall,</p> +<p class="i2">Mid-most before his eyes,</p> +<p>Alerter dog and loitering maid</p> +<p>Cross from the sunlight to the shade,</p> +<p>And small amenities of trade</p> +<p class="i2">Under the gables rise;</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Cats of the town, a shameless crew,</p> +<p class="i2">Over the way he sees</p> +<p>Propitiate with lavish purr</p> +<p>An unresponsive customer,</p> +<p>Or, meek with sycophantic fur,</p> +<p class="i2">Caress the children's knees.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But he, betrothed to etiquette,</p> +<p class="i2">Betrays nor head nor heart;</p> +<p>Lone as the Ark on Ararat,</p> +<p>A monument of fur and fat,</p> +<p>Decorum and the butcher's cat</p> +<p class="i2">Are seldom far apart.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"It was Horace that put in print the old +truth that no man in this world is satisfied +with the lot which either fortune or others +have put him to."—<i>"T. P." in his "Weekly."</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p><span class="sc">Horace</span>, of course, was always rushing +into print.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Her hands dropped to her side. She toyed +with the little locket on the gold chain at her +throat. 'I am capable of anything!' she +said."—<i>"Daily Mirror" Serial.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Evidently.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219"></a>[pg 219]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/219.png"><img width="100%" src="images/219.png" alt=""/></a><p><i>Keeper</i> (<i>who, unobserved, has been watching the +transgressor</i>). "<span class="sc">Ay, man, ye <i>hae</i> a conscience, but it's +gae elastic, I'm thinkin'."</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<h3>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Henry Holiday's</span> <i>Reminiscences of my Life</i> (<span class="sc">Heinemann</span>) +will show you a kindly simple soul who had an +extraordinarily nice time, met all kinds of interesting folk, +and had a generous devotion to any number of unpopular +causes, such as Women's Suffrage, the futuristic socialism +of <span class="sc">Bellamy's</span> <i>Looking Backward</i>, Home Rule in Ireland, +healthy and artistic dress, good music, the abolition of war. +Whatever capacity of expression his successful and not +undistinguished career as a painter (amongst other things, +of <span class="sc">Beatrice</span> cutting <span class="sc">Dante</span> on the bridge), stained-glass +worker and mural decorator proves him to have had in his +proper medium, the gift of pointed literary expression and +appropriate selection seems to have been withheld from +him. But he has little reason to complain. Some, at least, +of his causes are appreciably nearer victory than when he +espoused them; we are even a little nearer looking backwards. +One small point in these discursive memoirs will +especially delight the mildly cynical—that this worthy pre-Raphaelite, +who with his friends had suffered so much from +the limitations of view of a mid-Victorian Royal Academy, +should be so maliciously ready to have all modern rebels in +paint, their milestones hung about their necks, sunk in the +nethermost deeps with all their works! One can find +diversion, too, in the decorous story of Mr. <span class="sc">Holiday's</span> nude +statue of <i>Sleep</i>, rejected (according to a message from G. F. +<span class="sc">Watts</span>) on account of its nudity in 1879 by that same +Academy, and accepted in 1880 when the artist with +laborious modesty had modelled for it a plaster-of-paris +nightgown. The author claims some share, through the +Healthy and Artistic Dress Union, in the changes towards +rational beauty which women's dress has lately shown. +And that surely, is by no means to have lived in vain!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>There are few Memsahibs who know India and can write +about it as well as Mrs. <span class="sc">Alice Perrin</span>, so that when she +calls her new book <i>The Happy Hunting Ground</i> (<span class="sc">Methuen</span>) +she sets you thinking. And when you begin to think, you +see that that really is the meaning of those tearful farewells +at Victoria and Charing Cross, that heavy-hearted cheering +and waving of handkerchiefs as the liner puts off from the +docks, which are for us who stay at home the symbol of +our share in the burden of empire. When our sisters and +our daughters (and our cousins and aunts) sail away to +Marseilles and the East they go to find husbands, largely +because for many of them there is in this country little +prospect of marriage with men of their own class. But +that is only half the story. They go in search of mates. +They stay to play, as helpmeets, the woman's part in +carrying on the high tradition of the British Raj. With this +fundamental truth as her background, Mrs. <span class="sc">Perrin</span> has +drawn, simply but with practised skill, the picture of a young +girl who leaves the dull security of Earl's Court to go a-hunting +in the plains and the hills, obedient to the call of India, +which is in her bones. There, like many another before +her, she loves and suffers, and makes sacrifices and mistakes, +and (I am glad to say) finds happiness at the last. The +strength of Mrs. <span class="sc">Perrin's</span> book, apart from the value of its +background, lies in the reality of its characters. If you +have a drop of Anglo-Indian blood in your veins you will +know what it means. You will greet them as blood +relations, and take a kinsman's interest not only in their +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" id="page220"></a>[pg 220]</span> +joys and sorrows, but in their whole attitude towards life, +and even their little tricks of thought and speech.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>About a year ago Mr. <span class="sc">Joseph Knowles</span> began to think +that "the people of the present day were sadly neglecting +the details of the great book of nature," and asked himself +if he could not do something to remedy matters. His +answer to this question was to take off all his clothes, and, +on August 4, 1913, to enter the wilderness of Northern +Maine, and live like a primitive man for two months. On +page 12 of <i>Alone in the Wilderness</i> (<span class="sc">Longmans</span>) he is to be +seen taking off his coat (and posing, I feel bound to add, +very becomingly), and eight pages farther on you can see +him divested of his clothing and "breaking the last link." +As used to enforce a primitive ideal, the modern art of +photography seems, if I may say so, a little out of this +picture; but, anyhow, into the forest Mr. <span class="sc">Knowles</span> went +with "nodings on," and there he stuck out his time, speaking +to no one, scarcely seeing a human being, and proving—well, +I don't honestly think that he proved much. But at least +he was not what he calls +a quitter, and as more than +once he had an intense desire +to return to civilisation, +he deserves much credit for +carrying out his resolution. +But, difficult as he found +it to remain for the two +months, he has found even +greater difficulty in writing +interestingly about his experiment. +Apart from his +account of a great moose-fight, +the fascinating scenes +in his book are those in +which his former experiences +as a trapper and +hunter are described. But +Mr. <span class="sc">Knowles</span> has not finished +with his adventure; +he is going to live stark-naked +in the wilderness for +another two months, but +this time under inspection, +so that the unbelievers can be convinced. I am not among +the unbelievers—indeed, I am convinced of the absolute +truth of every statement he makes—but I doubt if a repetition +of his performance is the best way to help on the +College of Nature which he hopes to start. Why, in short, +pander to the unbelievers?</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>OUR CURIO CRANKS.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/220.png"><img width="100%" src="images/220.png" alt=""/></a><p><span class="sc">The man who collects mud-splashes from the wheels of the +exalted great.</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<p>A period so bygone as that of His late Majesty <span class="sc">King +Henry II.</span> (of whose exact date you will scarcely need to +be reminded) has not an immediate and irresistible attraction +for every novel reader, and it may take much to persuade +some that they will ever become really concerned with the +deeds and destinies of such people as <i>Jehane</i> the woodward's +daughter, <i>Edwy</i> the tanner of Clee, and <i>Lord +Lambert do Fort-Castel</i>, be their deeds and destinies never +so adventurous or romantic. Further, the juvenile manner +of the pictorial cover attached to <i>Jehane of the Forest</i> +(<span class="sc">Melrose</span>) is not calculated to whet the appetite of the +adult public, and the eulogy of a well-known author, +appended on a printed slip, lacks the essential glow of the +effective advertisement. It misses the point; it is pedantic, +and pedantry is the one thing for which wary readers are +on the look out in stories of antiquity. It is first important, +then, to acquit Mr. L. A. <span class="sc">Talbot</span> of every offence of which, +in the blackness of the outward circumstances, he might be +suspected—affectations, anachronisms, excess of local and +contemporary colour, absence of humour or human touches, +any tendency to bore. The book presents a charming +picture of the counties on the Welsh Border and unravels +a delightful tale in which the characters talk the language +peculiar to their time, but are controlled by the everlasting +motives of human nature. Though the times were harder +than ours the people seem to have been neither better nor +worse than we are; and, when approached from such a +point of view as Mr. <span class="sc">Talbot</span> has taken, there is nothing to +be said against, but very much to be said for, the period of +1154-1189, which, as every schoolboy is punished for not +knowing, covers the reign of <span class="sc">Henry II.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Miss <span class="sc">Mills Young</span> does not, I think, improve as an +artist. <i>The Purple Mists</i> (<span class="sc">Lane</span>) is her latest book, +and it is not so real and satisfactory a piece of work +as <i>Grit Lawless</i> or <i>Atonement</i>. The theme of her new +novel is the coming of love to two people who married +without any other emotion than restrained but unmistakable +antipathy. Why people +should do these things so +often in novels I do not +know, but on the present +occasion <i>Euretta</i> (<i>Euretta</i> +is not an attractive name) +and <i>John Shaw</i> (you can +tell by <i>his</i> name that he is +a strong silent man who is +deep in his work and has no +time to bother about women) +are driven into matrimony +by Miss <span class="sc">Mills Young</span>. +After a while it appears +that <i>Mr. Shaw</i> is beginning +to care for <i>Euretta</i> very +much, but he shows his +affection for her by avoiding +her as much as possible +and snarling when she +speaks to him. It is obvious +that a more kindly figure +must be somewhere close +at hand eager to console +<i>Euretta</i>. Miss <span class="sc">Young</span> discovers him, finds that he is precisely +the deep-drinking, warm-hearted rascal necessary for +this kind of occasion, and provides him with the inevitable +situations proper to the <i>tertium quid</i>. The defects of <i>The +Purple Mists</i> all arise from the fact that Miss <span class="sc">Mills Young</span> +has been told by her friends that she tells a good story. +If, next time, she thinks first of her characters and then +chronicles their logical development, instead of forcing them +into a threadbare plot, she will give us the fine book of +which I am sure she is capable.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +"According to the Jewish Chronicle, the number of Jews in the +world now exceeds 13,000: to be exact, 13,052,840."</p> + +<p><i>Family Herald (B.C.)</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Our contemporary should cultivate the large tracts of truth +which lie between the extreme vagueness of the first estimate +and the pedantic accuracy of the second.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +<span class="sc">"Rokeby Venus in Ribbons."</span>—<i>Globe.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Are we becoming prudish?</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p> +<span class="sc">"Breezes between North and South."</span>—<i>Cork Examiner.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>This is the weather forecast for Ireland, and at first sight +seems obvious; but "in view," as our penny contemporary +says, "of the grave importance of the present political +situation," we suspect a deeper meaning.</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 146, MARCH 18, 1914***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 23087-h.txt or 23087-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/0/8/23087">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/0/8/23087</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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