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diff --git a/24992-h/24992-h.htm b/24992-h/24992-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d971e47 --- /dev/null +++ b/24992-h/24992-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3205 @@ +<!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. 147, July 22, 1914, by Various</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + p.ital {font-style: italic;} + p.author {text-align: right;} + em {font-style: normal;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {text-align: center;} + 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.medium {width: 76%;} + html>body hr.medium {margin-right: 12%; margin-left: 12%; width: 76%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:30%; 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;} + + .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;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + td {font-size:0.9em; padding-left:1em; padding-right:1em; + text-align:center;} + + pre {font-size: 75%; } + + + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, +July 22, 1914, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, July 22, 1914 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: April 5, 2008 [EBook #24992] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, JULY 22, 191PUNCH, CHARIVARI, JULY 22, 1914 *** + + + + +Produced by Neville Allen, Hagay Giller, Malcolm Farmer +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>VOL. 147.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>July 22, 1914.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + + +<p>Those who deny that Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd +George</span> is ruining land-owners will +perhaps be impressed by the following +advertisement in <i>The Bazaar, Exchange +and Mart</i>:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"To be sold, small holding, well stocked +with fruit trees, good double tenement house +on good road and close to station, good outer +buildings. Price, Four Marks, Alton, Hunts."</p></div> + +<p>The fact that the price should be +translated into German looks unpleasantly +like an attempt to entrap an +ignorant foreigner.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Meanwhile it looks as if the Socialist +ideal of driving our landed gentry into +the workhouse is already being realised. +The Abergavenny Board +of Guardians, we read, +has decided to accept +an offer by Lord <span class="sc">Abergavenny</span> +to purchase +the local workhouse for +£3,000.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Three of the new +peers have now chosen +their titles. Sir <span class="sc">Edgar +Vincent</span> becomes +Baron <span class="sc">d'Abernon</span>; +Major-General <span class="sc">Brocklehurst</span>, Baron +<span class="sc">Ranksborough</span>, and Sir +<span class="sc">Edward Lyell</span>, Baron +<span class="sc">Lyell</span>. Rather lazy of +Sir <span class="sc">Edward</span>.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>A lioness which +escaped from a circus +at Bourg-en-Brasse, +France, the other day, +was killed, and a gendarme +in the hunting +party was shot in the leg. As the +lioness was not armed it is thought +that the gendarme must have been +shot by one of the party.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>It is frequently said that, if the +Suffragettes were to drop their militant +tactics, the suffrage would be +granted to-morrow. A Suffragette now +writes to stigmatise this as a hypocritical +mis-statement. She points out +that recently the experiment was tried +of allowing an entire day to pass without +an outrage, but not a single vote was +granted.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Dr. <span class="sc">Hans Friedenthal</span>, a well-known +Professor of Berlin University, +declares that, as a result of the higher +education, women will in the near +future be totally bald, and will wear +patriarchal beards and long moustaches. +They will then, no doubt, get +the vote by threatening that, unless +their wishes are granted, they will kiss +every man they meet at sight.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Portsmouth Town Council has carried, +by eleven votes to nine, a Labour +amendment refusing to place official +guide-books to Pretoria in the public +library unless the nine deportees are +allowed to return to South Africa. +General <span class="sc">Botha</span> could hardly have foreseen +this result of his action, and it +will be interesting to see what happens +now.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p class="center">"<span class="sc">Poison after a Duck's Egg</span>."<br /> + +<i>Evening News.</i><br /></p> + +<p>Our cricketers would seem to be +getting absurdly sensitive. This is +scarcely the way to brighten the game.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>The Guildhall Art Gallery is to be +rebuilt. Some of the pictures there +might be at the same time re-painted +with advantage.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Apparently the Moody of the Moody-Manners +Opera Company is gaining +the upper hand. This Company opened +its London season with <i>The Dance of +Death</i>.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>The appearance in Bond Street last +week of a lady leading a little pig +instead of a dog as a pet is being widely +discussed in canine circles, though it +has not yet been decided what action, +if any, shall be taken. In view of the +fact that so many dogs are pigs it is +possible that no objection will be raised +to one pig being a dog.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>By the way, <i>The Daily Chronicle</i> +was not quite correct when, in describing +the recent "Dog Feast," in which the +Shepherds Bush Indians were alleged +to have participated, it used the expression +"pow-wow." Owing to the +action of the Canine Defence League +a sheep was roasted and not a pow-wow.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>A motor-bus ran into a barber's shop +in Gray's Inn Road last week, and three +customers had a close shave.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Some burglars recently blew open +with gelignite the safe of a Holborn +jeweller containing £1,000 worth of +gems, and, as the jewels are missing, +the police incline to the view that the +object of the men must have been +robbery.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Asked by <i>The Express</i> for a suggestion +for a motto for the +L.C.C., Mr. <span class="sc">H. de Vere +Stacpoole</span> sent the +reply, "My word is +sovereign." It is good +to know that this delightful +writer can command +an even higher +rate of pay than did +Mr. <span class="sc">Rudyard Kipling</span> +at the height of his +popularity.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p><i>The Daily Herald</i> +informs us that the +Russian monk, <span class="sc">Rasputin</span>, +"started life as +an illiterate peasant." +But, we would ask, is +there really anything +remarkable in this? We +believe that the number +of persons who have +been born literate is +extremely small.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Says an advertisement in <i>T.P.'s +Weekly</i>:—"Reader receives guests—Leigh-on-Sea, +facing sea, minute cliffs." +It is honourable of the advertiser to +mention the minuteness of the cliffs. +This is, we fear, a characteristic of the +Essex coast.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Among "Businesses for Sale" in +<i>The Daily Chronicle</i>, we come across +what looks like an ugly example of +military venality:—"<span class="sc">General</span> for Sale, +taking £16 a week; going cheap."</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>Finally, we have the pleasure to +award first honorary prize in our +Pathetic Advertisement Competition to +the following—also from <i>The Daily +Chronicle</i>:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Fish (Fried) and Chips for Sale, owing to +wife's illness: only one in neighbourhood."</p></div> + +<p>We trust that the advertiser's addiction +to monogamy is not confined to the +neighbourhood.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;"> +<a href="images/081.png"> +<img width="100%" alt="revival of boxing." src="images/081.png" /></a> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in"><span class="sc">We understand that, in view of the popular revival of boxing, +Dr. Strauss has been commissioned to write a grand opera round the noble +art. The above represents the finale.</span></p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> + + +<h3>OXFORD IN TRANSITION.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Interview With a Famous Porter.</span></p> + +<p class="center">(<span class="sc"><i>By Harold Begthwayt.</i></span>)</p> + +<p>Hearing from an undergraduate +friend at Cardinal College of the impending +retirement of Mr. Chumbleton +("Old Chum"), the famous porter of +Salisbury Gate, I gladly seized the +opportunity of running down to Oxford +to gain some fresh sidelights on the +inner life of the University. Cardinal +College, unlike Balliol, Magdalen and +New College, has never shown itself +responsive to the new spirit. There +are probably fewer Socialists in Peckover +than in any other quad in Oxford. +The old feudal traditions, though somewhat +mitigated, still survive. You still +hear the characteristic Mayfair accent +and recognise a curious lack of that +Moral Uplift without which, as Sir +<span class="sc">Robertson Nicoll</span> finely says, a man is +no better than a mummy. And yet I own +to having been strangely attracted by +these well-groomed scions of a vanishing +breed, with their finely chiselled +features, their clipped colloquialisms +and their cheerful arrogance. There is +something engaging as well as pathetic +in these unruffled countenances, blind +to the realities of modern life and the +need of that fraternal fellowship which +alone can bring peace to the head that +wears a crown or a coronet.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chumbleton, who was just going +off duty when I arrived, cordially invited +me into his inner sanctum and +offered me a glass of gin and green +Chartreuse, the favourite beverage, he +assured me, of the late Duke of Midhurst, +whose scout he had been in +the "seventies." Of that strange and +meteoric figure, who was subsequently +devoured by a crocodile on the Blue +Nile, Mr. Chumbleton spoke with +genuine affection. "He was something +like a Dook," said the old man, "and +not one of your barley-water-drinking +faddists. Yes, in those days a Dook was +a Dook and not a cock-shy for demigods +[? demagogues]. I can remember," +he went on, "when there wore three +Dooks in residence at the same time, +the Dook of Midhurst, the Dook of +St. Ives and the Dook of Clumber. +But the Dook of Midhurst was the +pick of the bunch. Why, once he went +into a grocer's shop in the High and +asked for two pounds of treacle. 'How +will you have it?' asked the grocer, +who was the baldest-headed man I ever +seen. 'In my hat,' said the Dook, +whipping off his bowler and holding it +out. As soon as it was full, before you +could say Jack Robinson, he popped +it on the grocer's head and ran out of +the shop."</p> + +<p>The old man told this terrible story, +which reminded me of the worst +cruelties of the despots of the Italian +Renaissance, with a gusto that was +inexpressibly painful. When he had +finished I asked whether the Duke was +sent down. "Oh, no, Sir," was the +prompt response. "You see the grocer, +being a bald-headed man, had no +trouble with the treacle, and, besides, +the Dook he gave him a wig next day. +But if anyone was to do that to-day, +Dook or no Dook, there'd be questions +asked about it in the House of Commons, +or a Royal Commission would +be appointed. Times is changed," he +went on sadly, "and there ain't any +more of the old stock left. Why, the +Bullingdon Club got three First Classes +this year, and as for breaking up furniture +and bonfires in the quad it don't +happen once in three years. 'Nuts' +they call 'em now, but when I was a +young scout they called 'em 'dogs,' and +gay dogs they were, I can tell you. +'Bloods' they call 'em, too, but there +ain't much blue blood in these modern +Blutocrats."</p> + +<p>I asked Mr. Chumbleton if there +were any signs of Cardinal College +being affected by the new Moral Uplift, +but he seemed unable to fathom the +meaning of my query. His standpoint +was clearly philistine and, I regret to +say, distinctly pagan. He had never +heard of the Land Campaign, or of +Mr. <span class="sc">Hemmerde</span>, Baron <span class="sc">de Forest</span> or +even Mr. <span class="sc">Harold Begbie</span>. His attitude +towards Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span> was unsympathetic. +He deplored the popularity +of motor-bicycles, but, with a +strange and lamentable perversity, welcomed +the advent of the motor-'bus +while condemning the introduction of +trams.</p> + +<p>I came away more than ever impressed +by the tenacity of feudal traditions, +and the need of redoubled efforts +on the part of all Radical stalwarts to +convert the older universities from hotbeds +of expensive obscurantism into +free nurseries of humanitarian democracy. +It was sad to see such a +figure as that of Mr. Chumbleton, +genial and hospitable, I admit, but +utterly heedless of the trend of the +times, hopelessly ignorant of the Progressive +program, and deriving a senile +satisfaction from memories of a barbarous +and brutal past.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Painting the Lily.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"White duck trousers in a snow-white +grey material."—<i>Advt. in "Daily Province" +(Vancouver).</i></p></div> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>From <i>The Daily Mirror's</i> account of +the <span class="sc">Smith-Carpentier</span> fight:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"One French girl was so excited that she +bit a large hope in her fan."</p></div> + +<p>Not a <i>white</i> hope, we trust.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE SINECURE.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[In <i>The Daily Mail's</i> list of Situations +Vacant, such as Housemaids (Hmds), Between-maids +(Bmds), Working Housekeepers (Wkg-hkprs) +and Cook Generals (Ckgns), appears the +following:—"Young Lady wanted for cinema +acting. Fullest particulars to Box No.—."]</p></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Said she, "<i>The Daily Mail</i> ensures</p> +<p class="i2">Immediate supply.</p> +<p class="i0">Whose situation's vacant? Yours.</p> +<p class="i2">Who's going to fill it? I.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"If you shall ask me, can I act?</p> +<p class="i2">I readily retort,</p> +<p class="i0">I'm just the Star you want; in fact</p> +<p class="i2">The strong and silent sort.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"The sooner you reveal the plot</p> +<p class="i2">The sooner I begin.</p> +<p class="i0">In me, I beg to state, you've got</p> +<p class="i2">The perfect Heroine."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Said they—"De Vere's a villain who</p> +<p class="i2">For reasons not disclosed</p> +<p class="i0">Desires to make an end of you ..."</p> +<p class="i2">("The cad!" she interposed).</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">" ... He ties you to a railway line</p> +<p class="i2">That so the Leeds express</p> +<p class="i0">May execute his fell design</p> +<p class="i2">With speed and thoroughness.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"But Herbert's heroism's such,</p> +<p class="i2">He swears this shall not be.</p> +<p class="i0">You see, he loves you very much ..."</p> +<p class="i2">("I guessed he would," said she).</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">" ... He hires a rapid motor car,</p> +<p class="i2">He also buys a map;</p> +<p class="i0">He knows how fast expresses are,</p> +<p class="i2">And notes the handicap.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"But, as he is a man of parts</p> +<p class="i2">And born to play the game,</p> +<p class="i0">Without delay the hero starts ..."</p> +<p class="i2">"We'd better do the same."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">They chose a quiet neighbourhood,</p> +<p class="i2">A lonely piece of track;</p> +<p class="i0">They trusted that the metals would</p> +<p class="i2">Not incommode her back.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"This is De Vere," they said, "whose hand</p> +<p class="i2">Will tie you firmly down.</p> +<p class="i0">Meanwhile your Herb, we understand,</p> +<p class="i2">Is on his way from town.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"We do not, though one can't be sure.</p> +<p class="i2">Anticipate the worst;</p> +<p class="i0">Expresses may be premature;</p> +<p class="i2">Still, Herbert <i>should</i> be first.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Such realism must excite</p> +<p class="i2">The audience (and you) ...</p> +<p class="i0">If you are ready we are quite;</p> +<p class="i2">Your train will soon be due."</p> +</div></div> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">She formed a resolution, viz.,</p> +<p class="i2">To put no trust in men,</p> +<p class="i0">But hire herself to mistresses,</p> +<p class="i2">A whole, if humble, ckgn.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%;"> +<a href="images/083.png"> +<img src="images/083.png" width="100%" alt="ISN'T IT ABOUT TIME YOU +TOOK ME OUT OF THIS?" /></a> +<h3>AT DURAZZO-SUPER-MARE.</h3> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in"><span class="sc">Mpret.</span> "I DON'T FEEL AT ALL COMFORTABLE HERE. ISN'T IT ABOUT TIME YOU +TOOK ME OUT OF THIS?"<br /><br /> +<span class="sc">Europa</span> (<i>sleepily</i>). "MPRAPS"</p> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> +<a href="images/085.png"> +<img src="images/085.png" width="100%" alt="There goes Sir Beerbohm Alexander." /></a> +"<span class="sc">Look, Ethel, look—there goes Sir Beerbohm Alexander" +"So it is; but how unlike</span>!" +</div> + + + + +<hr /> + +<h3>ONCE UPON A TIME.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Transmigration.</span></p> + + +<p>Once upon a time there was an +ostrich who, though very ostrichy, was +even more of an egoist. He thought +only of himself. That is not a foible +peculiar to ostriches, but this particular +fowl—and he was very particular—was +notable for it. "Where do I come in?" +was a question written all over him—from +his ridiculous and inadequate head, +down his long neck, on his plump +fluffy body, and so to his exceedingly +flat and over-sized feet.</p> + +<p>It was in Afric's burning sand—to +be precise, at the Cape—that, on the +approach of danger, the ostrich secreted +his self-centred head, and here from +time to time his plumes were plucked +from him for purposes of trade.</p> + +<p>Now it happened that in London +there was a theatre given up to a season +of foreign opera, and, this theatre +having been built by one of those +gifted geniuses so common among +theatre architects, it followed that the +balcony (into which, of course, neither +the architect nor the manager for whom +it was built had ever strayed) contained +a number of seats from which +no view of the stage was visible at all—unless +one stood up, and then the people +behind were deprived of their view. +This, of course, means nothing to +architects or managers. The thought +that jolly anticipatory parties of simple +folk bent upon a happy evening may +be depressed and dashed by a position +suffering from such disabilities could +not concern architects and managers, +for some imagination would be needed +to understand it.</p> + +<p>The new temporary management, +however (whatever the ordinary management +might do), recognising the +rights of the spectator, refrained from +selling any seats from which no view +whatever could be obtained and behaved +very well about it—as perhaps one has +to do when half-a-guinea is charged for +each seat; but with the border-line +seats which they did sell—those on the +confines of the possible area—- a view +of the stage was only partial and so +much a matter of touch-and-go that any +undue craning of the neck or moving +of the head sideways at once interrupted +the line of vision of many worthy folk +at the back; while anyone leaning too +far forward from a seat in the front +row could instantly, for many others, +obliterate the whole stage.</p> + +<p>It happened that on a certain very +hot night in July a fat lady in one of +the front seats not only leaned forward +but fanned herself intermittently with +a large fan.</p> + +<p>Now and then one of the unfortunate +half-guinea seat-holders behind her in +the debatable territory remonstrated +gently and politely, remarking on the +privation her fan was causing to others, +and each time the lady smiled and said +she was very sorry and put the fan +down; but in two minutes she was +fluttering it again as hard as ever, and +not a vestige of the Pentateuchal caperings +or whatever was going forward +could be discerned in her vicinity.</p> + +<p>She meant well, poor lady; but it +was very hot, and how could she help +it when her fan was made of that particular +ostrich's feathers?</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Methods of sowing, reaping, watering, and +thrashing have been passed down from father +to son through countless generations."</p> + +<p><i>Chronicle of London Missionary Society.</i></p></div> + +<p>Of thrashing, anyhow.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The feature of the Keswick valley is its +spacious width of skyscrape."—<i>L.& N. W. R. +Guide to the English Lakes.</i></p></div> + +<p>In this respect New York is its only +serious rival.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<h3>MY TROUSSEAU.</h3> + + +<p>Having been a bachelor from my +earliest youth I suppose I ought to be +accustomed to the condition; but the +fact remains that I miss something—something +which only a wedding +supplies.</p> + +<p>Curiously enough this want is not a +wife. I have been without one so long +that I should not know what to do +with her if I had one. I should probably +overlook her, and she would become +atrophied or die of neglect or +thirst. Neither do I crave a home of +my own; nor golden-haired children to +climb up my knee. I can do without +these accessories.</p> + +<p>But what I do hunger for and what +I <i>will</i> have is a trousseau. Why the +acquisition of a trousseau should be a +purely feminine prerogative +I have never been able to +understand. A bride without +a trousseau is generally +regarded as an incomplete +thing—a poached-egg without +toast; a salad without +dressing. But the bridegroom +without a trousseau +is a recognised institution. +True, he has new clothes, +both seen and unseen, but +this is not a trousseau; it is +merely a "replenishment of +his wardrobe." His least +disreputable old things are +"made to do"; and nobody +thinks slightingly of him +if he attends his wedding +in a re-cuffed shirt or in +boots that have been resoled. +A girl, however, +would as soon think of +entering Paradise with a second-hand +halo as she would contemplate being +married in anything that was not +aggressively new.</p> + +<p>Thus it is that before my wish can +be consummated I have two honoured +conventions to defy: that only a girl +may possess a trousseau, and that a +marriage is a necessary condition to +the acquiring of it. Fortunately I +am strong-minded. A long course of +Mrs. <span class="sc">Humphry Ward's</span> homilies has +given me no little facility in achieving +this attribute, and I am determined +that I will change neither my sex nor +my status.</p> + +<p>Now, I have prepared a list, just as—I +suppose—every girl does. In the +first place I am going to indulge in +the hitherto undreamt-of luxury of a +surfeit of dress-shirts. No one who +has not experienced life on two dress-shirts—one +in wear, the other in the +wash—can quite understand what this +will mean to me. Men like Sir <span class="sc">Joseph +Beecham</span>, Mr. <span class="sc">Mallaby-Deeley</span>, Mr. +<span class="sc">Solly Joel</span>, Lord <span class="sc">Howard de Walden</span>, +and others, who, I daresay, have four +or even five, cannot know what it is +to feel that their evening's refreshment +and entertainment depend on +their finding the French chalk or the +india-rubber.</p> + +<p>Therefore I am making no stint in +this matter. I am having fifteen dress-shirts, +so that there may be one for +wear each day in the week, seven in +the laundry, and one over for emergencies—like +<i>Parsifal</i>, that begins +in the middle of the afternoon. I mean +to be similarly lavish in the matter of +collars and handkerchiefs. The number +of the former which I am buying +amounts almost to an epidemic; while +the extent of my commission in the +latter is the result of lessons learnt in +the hard school of experience. I say +unhesitatingly that the man who tries +to get through life on a mere dozen +handkerchiefs is simply begging for +disaster, as, however methodical in +their use he may be, a carelessly-caught +cold may any day upset his reckoning +and leave him at a loose end; sometimes +scarcely that. Hence I am doing +this part of my trousseau in princely +fashion. I am having half a gross of +them.</p> + +<p>Then there is my slumber-wear. For +years I have hungered for silk ones, +but have had no conscientious excuse +for appeasing my appetite. To buy silk +pyjamas in cold blood has hitherto +seemed to me to be sheer cynical extravagance; +but now I feel that circumstances +justify me in my action, +for it would be a very sorry thing for +me to encounter a burglar or cope with +a fire clad in apparel that would not +be up to the standard of the rest of my +wardrobe.</p> + +<p>Now, I am a great believer in dressing +for the spirit of the moment; therefore +I have resolved upon a pretty colour-scheme +for my night-wear. My pyjamas +are to be of tints conducive to refreshing +rest, namely and severally white, +lemon, light pink, and pale green—an +idea which I candidly confess was inspired +by the spectacle of a Neapolitan +ice. If you think that this is merely +an idle whim, just imagine endeavouring +to sleep in pyjamas patterned like +an Axminster carpet or a Scotch tartan. +No wonder <i>Macbeth</i> "murdered sleep" +if he was arrayed in garments of his +club-colours!</p> + +<p>I have brought the same æsthetic +sense to bear upon my choice of ties +and socks: greys and blacks for times +of grave political crises; fawn, buff, +pearl, moose—I am not sure that this +is a colour, but it sounds +quite possible—for brighter +hours; and colours familiar +to every student of spectroscopy +for halcyon days of +rejoicing—the opening of +the Royal Academy, the +Handel Festival, the return +of <span class="sc">Harry Lauder</span>, or the +elevation of Mr. <span class="sc">Bernard +Shaw</span> to the peerage.</p> + +<p>As for externals, suffice +it to say that they will be +<i>en suite</i>, and that I intend +to introduce just a little +touch of originality into my +trousers. I am going to +have them made with spats +sewn to the leg-ends in +order to save time and +trouble in dressing.</p> + +<p>In short, I have forgotten +nothing, except spare studs, +and I think it is quite likely that +I shall remember them too in course +of time. I have even gone so far as +to fix a day for a dress rehearsal. +But first I shall invite my friends, +as is the way with brides-elect, to a +private view of my trousseau, when +they shall see all of it spread upon the +coverlet of my bed, over the backs of +my chairs, or hanging in serried ranks +in my wardrobe.</p> + +<p>And now nothing more remains +to be done but to raise the necessary +funds, and with this object in view +I have instructed my broker to draw +my money out of the Savings Bank. +I am expecting a postal-order almost +any moment.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;"> +<a href="images/086.png"><img src="images/086.png" width="100%" alt="How fast can she travel" /></a> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in"><i>Yokel.</i> "<span class="sc">'Ow fast can she travel, Master?"</span><br /></p> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in"><i>Owner.</i> <span class="sc">"Fifty miles an hour, my man—even sixty if I care +to push her."</span><br /></p> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in"><i>Yokel.</i> <span class="sc">"An' 'ow many if ye both shove?</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"'Anna virumque cano' was the burden of +the charge the Chief Secretary had to meet, +and it sorely embarrassed the dear gentleman."—<i>Liverpool +Courier.</i></p></div> + +<p>Who is "<span class="sc">Anna</span>"? We hope Mr. +<span class="sc">Birrell</span> is not mixed up in a scandal.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;"> +<a href="images/087.png"> +<img width="100%" alt="What are you waitin' here for" src="images/087.png" /></a> + +<h4>AN IMPALPABLE FLAME.</h4> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in"><i>Claude.</i> <span class="sc">"What are you waitin' here for, old thing?"</span></p> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in"><i>Cuthbert.</i> <span class="sc">"To give these flowers and chocolates to that stunning +little girl in 'The Death Kiss of deadman's Gulch.'</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> +<h3>THE AWAKENING</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>A Little Romance of the Restaurant-Car</i>).</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Is there a sight so soothing to the brain</p> +<p class="i2">As England's outlines green and softly curved,</p> +<p class="i0">Visions of wooded slope and fertile plain</p> +<p class="i0">Seen by the traveller in a dining-train,</p> +<p class="i0">No doubts to vex him and no talk to strain,</p> +<p class="i2">His seat, his chance companion, both reserved?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I think not. Yet the rather stoutish man</p> +<p class="i2">Who never raised his head but chewed and chewed</p> +<p class="i0">Annoyed me as I feasted. I began</p> +<p class="i0">To deem him one who had no higher plan,</p> +<p class="i0">No larger outlook in life's journeyings, than</p> +<p class="i2">Resonant demolition of his food.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I longed to point to him the hedges twined</p> +<p class="i2">With starry blossoms, and the coats like silk</p> +<p class="i0">Of oxen as they wandered unconfined;</p> +<p class="i0">I longed to ask him if his heavier mind</p> +<p class="i0">Preferred the cattle of more stedfast kind</p> +<p class="i2">Stamped with advertisements of malted milk.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The little red-brick hamlets, poised apart,</p> +<p class="i2">And all the grandeur of the rolling leas,</p> +<p class="i0">I longed to ask him if they brought no smart</p> +<p class="i0">Of scarce-remembered boyhood to his heart.</p> +<p class="i0">But I refrained; and he took cherry tart</p> +<p class="i2">And after that two different kinds of cheese.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And then we neared a little market town</p> +<p class="i2">Half hidden in the dale, that seemed to cling</p> +<p class="i0">Fondly about a church of old renown;</p> +<p class="i0">And here the fat man started and looked down</p> +<p class="i0">And filled his tumbler to the foaming crown</p> +<p class="i2">And held it high as if to pledge the <span class="sc">king</span>.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Some memory seemed to stir within his breast</p> +<p class="i2">As though the curtain of old days were torn,</p> +<p class="i0">And, as he drained the glass with eager zest,</p> +<p class="i0">"Behold," I thought, "I wronged him. In that nest,</p> +<p class="i0">So far from turmoil, full of old-world rest</p> +<p class="i2">(He is about to tell me), he was born.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"And now, before the antique spire hath fled,</p> +<p class="i2">Because remembrance of his home is dear,</p> +<p class="i0">He toasts it deeply." All my wrath was dead.</p> +<p class="i0">Then the man smiled at me and wagged his head;</p> +<p class="i0">"Junction for Little Barleythorpe," he said;</p> +<p class="i2">"A week ago these points upset my beer."</p> +</div></div> +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Evoe</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> + +<h2>AN UNPLAYED MASTERPIECE.</h2> + +<p>[The growing popularity of the one-Act play +has prompted the aphorism that what is required +in this class of drama is a "maximum +of action with a minimum of explanation." +Nevertheless the following effort has been +rejected by every Manager in London—a fact +which decisively answers the oft-repeated +question, "Do Managers read plays?"]</p> +<div class="drama"> +<p><span class="sc">Scene</span>—<i>A luxuriously furnished room +in the flat of</i> Violet Hazelwood. +Violet <i>is seated, writing. The telephone +on the table rings noisily.</i></p> + +<p><i>Violet</i> (<i>picking up the receiver</i>). +Hello! Yes.... It's me.... Oh, +it's Reggie.... Yes, I'm at home to +you.... In three minutes?... Right. +I shall be here. +(<i>Hangs up receiver.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Maid</i> (<i>entering suddenly</i>). Sir Frank +Bulkeley, m'm. +(<i>Goes out and Sir +Frank enters.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Sir Frank.</i> My dear Violet—— (<i>A +report is heard and a splintering of +glass.</i>) Confound it all, I'm shot! +(<i>Falls on floor.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Violet.</i> Yes, he certainly appears to +be shot. I'd better go and see the +police about it.(<i>Goes out.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Reggie Fortescue (entering precipitately</i>). +Violet.... (<i>Looking round +in perplexity</i>). Not here! She said +she would be here.... She is false +to me. False! I have nothing left to +live for. +(<i>Takes out a revolver, shoots +himself and falls on the floor.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Gerald Maristowe (entering cautiously +through the window and carrying a rifle</i>). +This is a devil of a risky business, this +rifle practice, but Ulster must be saved +somehow. I see I've broken the window. +Wonder if I've done any other +damage. (<i>Sees</i> Sir Frank.) Gee! I've +killed a man! (<i>Sees</i> Reggie.) Oh, glory! +I've killed two of 'em! Reggie, too, +by all that's rum! I say, you know, +that's pretty useful shooting.... Still, +it probably means hanging, and I'm—er—hanged +if I'll be hanged. Let me +rather die by my own hand. (<i>Discharges +rifle at himself, and falls on floor.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Violet</i> (<i>re-entering with an Inspector +and a Constable</i>). There he is, Inspector. +(<i>Sees</i> Gerald.) My goodness, there seem +to be two now! I feel sure.... (<i>Sees</i> +Reggie.) <i>Three!</i> Really, Inspector, I +feel almost certain that when I left.... +Oh, it's Reggie! My heart is broken! +(<i>Faints.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Inspector.</i> Stand back, Clarkson; this +job requires thought. (<i>Takes up telephone +receiver.</i>) Circus 20634, Miss.... +That you Doc.? Come round at once, +please.... Two or three men shot.... +Right.... (<i>Hangs up receiver.</i>) +Clarkson, measure the exact distance +between each corpse and the window. +(Clarkson <i>proceeds to do so</i>. <i>Enter</i> +Doctor.) Ah, Doc., that's the little job +I mentioned.</p> + +<p><i>Doctor</i> (<i>kneeling by</i> Violet). This one +isn't shot; she's only fainted. She'll +be all right in a minute. (<i>Examines</i> +Gerald.) Nor is this one. <i>He</i>'ll be all +right in a minute. (<i>Examines</i> Reggie.) +Nor is this one. <i>He'</i>ll be all right in +a minute. (<i>Examines</i> Sir Frank.) This +one is, though. Dead as a door-nail. +(Violet, Reggie <i>and</i> Gerald <i>rise simultaneously +to their feet</i>.) There you are! +I told you so.</p> + +<p><i>Gerald</i> (<i>aside</i>). Missed!</p> + +<p><i>Reggie</i> (<i>aside</i>). Missed! (<i>Aloud</i>) +Violet, I love you!</p> + +<p><i>Violet.</i> I'm <i>so</i> glad, because I love +you.</p> + +<p><i>Reggie</i> (<i>confidentially</i>). Do you know, +I really thought I was dead. Hello. +Gerald, old son, what are you doing +here?</p> + +<p><i>Gerald.</i> Oh, I thought I'd sort of +look in, you know.</p> + +<p><i>Inspector.</i> Violet Hazelwood, I arrest +you for the murder of Sir Frank +Bulkeley, Bart., and I warn you that +anything you may say will be used in +evidence against you. Clarkson, stop +playing with that tape and handcuff the +prisoner. (Clarkson <i>does so</i>.)</p> + +<p><i>Gerald</i> (<i>aside</i>). Good business! That +saves <i>my</i> neck.</p> + +<p><i>Violet.</i> But, my dear good soul.... +However, I suppose it's no use to say +anything. Reggie, I can never marry +you now.</p> + +<p><i>Reggie.</i> You couldn't in any case, my +dear, because I haven't got any money.</p> + +<p><i>Violet.</i> You forget that you are sole +heir to Sir Frank there, who had fourteen +thousand a year. <i>I</i> thought of +that at once.</p> + +<p><i>Reggie.</i> Columbus! So I am. Well, +that <i>is</i> a dashed nuisance.</p> + +<p><i>Gerald</i> (<i>coming forward nobly</i>). My +dear, dear friends, I cannot allow your +happiness to be wrecked in this way. +I killed Sir Frank! You can be married +now.</p> + +<p><i>Reggie.</i> Good egg! (<i>Embraces</i> Violet.)</p> + +<p><i>Inspector.</i> Gerald Maristowe, I arrest +you for the murder of Sir Frank +Bulkeley, Bart., and I warn you that +anything you may say will be used in +evidence against you.</p> + +<p><i>Violet.</i> Oh, we must save him. What +can we do?</p> + +<p><i>Clarkson.</i> Lady, do you remember +years ago giving sixpence to a starving +boy in Peckham Rye?</p> + +<p><i>Violet.</i> Yes.</p> + +<p><i>Clarkson.</i> <i>I</i> am—that is, <i>was</i>—that +boy. I will save your friend. Inspector, +you know that a reward of +£10,000 is offered for the capture of +the anarchist Mazzio?</p> + +<p><i>Inspector.</i> Yes. I wish to heaven +I could lay my hands on him.</p> + +<p><i>Clarkson.</i> I can tell you how to do so.</p> + +<p><i>Inspector.</i> How?</p> + +<p><i>Clarkson</i> (<i>dramatically tearing off his +wig and false moustache</i>). I am Mazzio! +(<i>Turning to</i> Gerald <i>and the others</i>) I +shall struggle violently. While he is +engaged in arresting me, you can make +good your escape.</p> + +<p><i>Inspector.</i> Ha! Do you think I can +be so easily baffled? (<i>Picking up telephone +receiver.</i>) There are other police +in the neighbourhood.</p> + +<p><i>Violet.</i> Not so. (<i>Slashes through the +telephone cord with a knife</i>).</p> + +<p><i>Gerald.</i> Bravo!</p> + +<p><i>Inspector.</i> Oh, well, never mind. +(<i>Puts his head out of the window and +blows a police whistle. The others look +at one another in consternation.</i>) <i>Now</i> +I think I am master of the situation.</p> + +<p><i>Clarkson.</i> Foiled! All the same, you +are less fortunate than you imagine. +When I said I was Mazzio, I lied.</p> + +<p><i>Inspector.</i> Prove it.</p> + +<p><i>Clarkson.</i> Easily. Mazzio has a scar +on his left forearm. (<i>Rolling up sleeve.</i>) +I have none.</p> + +<p><i>Inspector.</i> Oh, well, never mind. I +can now proceed with the arrest of the +murderer of Sir Frank Bulkeley, Bart.</p> + +<p><i>Gerald</i> (<i>aside</i>). I'm done for!</p> + +<p><i>Clarkson.</i> There <i>must</i> be some way +of escape. Doc., it's up to you to do +something.</p> + +<p><i>Doctor.</i> With pleasure. I certify that +Sir Frank died from heart disease.</p> + +<p><i>Inspector</i> (<i>stammering</i>). But—but—but +he's <i>obviously</i> shot. I mean to +say——</p> + +<p><i>Doctor.</i> I certify that Sir Frank +Bulkeley died from heart disease ten +seconds before the bullet struck him +You can do nothing in the face of my +certificate.</p> + +<p><i>Gerald, Reggie and Violet.</i> Saved!</p> +</div> +<h4><span class="sc">Curtain.</span></h4> + +<hr /> + +<h4>This Wonderful World.</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"A Hamburg bookkeeper named Schute +who has just celebrated his 8th birthday, has +been with his employers for sixty years, while +his son, his grandson, and his great-grandson +are also working for them."</p> + +<p><i>The Evening News.</i></p></div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"During the last two years some marvellous +'finds' have been made at this wonderful +fortress from time to time. It is intended to +continue excavation work for a moth."</p></div> + +<p><i>Denbighshire Free Press.</i></p> + +<p>They can be caught much better with +beer and treacle.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<h4>"LIBERAL MEMBER RESIGNS."</h4> +<div class="center"> +<span class="sc">Will Stand as Independent</span>. +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>London, Wednesday.—Mr. Joseph Martin. +Liberal M.P. for East St. Pancras, is resigning +his seat, and will recontest it as an +independent South Pole under American +auspices."—<i>Sydney Daily Telegraph.</i></p></div> + +<p>Sir <span class="sc">Ernest Shackleton</span> must look out.</p><br /> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;"> +<a href="images/089.png"> +<img src="images/089.png" width="100%" alt="Golf cartoon" /></a> + +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in"><i>First Caddie.</i> "<span class="sc">Does it make yer dizzy lookin' down these 'oles?</span>"</p> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in"><i>Second Caddie.</i> <span class="sc">"No."</span></p> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in"><i>First Caddie.</i>" <span class="sc">Then why don't you go to the pin sometimes</span>?"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE FIRST TEE.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>Mullion, July 17th.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">It is the place, it is the place, my soul!</p> +<p class="i2">(Blow, bugle, blow; sing, triangle; toot, life!)</p> +<p class="i0">Down to the sea the close-cropped pastures roll,</p> +<p class="i0">Couches behind yon sandy hill the goal</p> +<p class="i2">Whereat, it may be, after ceaseless strife</p> +<p class="i0">The "Colonel" shall find peace, and Henry say, "Your hole" ...</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Caddie, give me my driver, caddie,</p> +<p class="i2">The sun shines hot, but there's half a breeze,</p> +<p class="i0">Enough to rustle the tree-tops, laddie,</p> +<p class="i2">Only supposing there were some trees;</p> +<p class="i0">The year's at the full and the morn's at eleven,</p> +<p class="i0">It's a wonderful day just straight from Heaven,</p> +<p class="i0">And this is a hole I can do in seven—</p> +<p class="i4">Caddie, my driver, please.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Three times a day from now till Monday week</p> +<p class="i2">(Ten peerless days in all) I take my stand</p> +<p class="i0">Vestured in some <i>dégagé</i> mode of breek</p> +<p class="i0">(The chess-board touch, with squares that almost speak),</p> +<p class="i2">And lightly sketch my Slice into the Sand,</p> +<p class="i0">As based on bigger men, but much of it unique ...</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Caddie, give me my driver, caddie,</p> +<p class="i2">Note my style on the first few tees;</p> +<p class="i0"><span class="sc">Duncan</span> fashioned my wrist-work, laddie,</p> +<p class="i2"><span class="sc">Taylor</span> taught me to twist my knees;</p> +<p class="i0">I've a beautiful swing that I learnt from <span class="sc">Vardon</span></p> +<p class="i0">(I practise it sometimes down the garden—</p> +<p class="i0">"My fault! Sorry! I <i>beg</i> your pardon!")—</p> +<p class="i4">Caddie, my driver, please.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Only ten little days, in which to do</p> +<p class="i2">So much! <i>E.g.</i>, the twelfth: ah it was there</p> +<p class="i0">The Secretary met his Waterloo,</p> +<p class="i0">But perished gamely, playing twenty-two;</p> +<p class="i2">His clubs (<i>ten little days!</i>) lie bleaching where</p> +<p class="i0">Sea-poppies blow (<i>ten days!</i>) and wheeling sea-birds mew ...</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Caddie, give me my driver, caddie,</p> +<p class="i2">Let us away with thoughts like these;</p> +<p class="i0">A week and a-half is a lifetime, laddie,</p> +<p class="i2">The day that's here is the day to seize;</p> +<p class="i0"><i>Carpe diem</i>—yes, that's the motto,</p> +<p class="i0">"Work be jiggered!" and likewise "What ho!"</p> +<p class="i0"><span class="sc">I'm not going back till I've jolly well got to</span>!</p> +<p class="i4">Caddie, my driver, please.</p> +</div></div> +<p class="author">A. A. M.<br /></p> + + +<hr /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The 'Gunboat' and his manager, Mr. Buckley, lounged out on +the beautiful old English lawn among the rose bushes and drank +in the sunshine."—<i>Daily Mirror.</i></p></div> + +<p>What offers from brewers, distillers, etc., to name the +particular beverage which they drank in the sunshine?</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Sir James Key Caird, the millionaire duke manufacturer of +Dundee."—<i>Montreal Gazette.</i></p></div> + +<p>His yearly output is singularly small.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;"> +<a href="images/090.png"> +<img width="100%" alt="Women in the Ring" src="images/090.png" /></a> +<h4>THE SEX'S PROGRESS.</h4> +<span class="sc">From "women at Prize-Fights" To "Women in the Ring" should be an easy step +in the upward movement</span>. +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE PUNCHER'S GRIEVANCE.</h3> + +<p>"You journalist chaps just spoil us," +said Puncher Pete, when I called upon +him yesterday at his training camp. +"You draw us into conversation, stick +down our remarks in your note-books, +and then make us out to be the biggest +boasters on the face of the earth. It's +not right.</p> + +<p>"For instance, you've got it on the +tip of your tongue to ask me if I think +I'll lick Jimmy Battle next Thursday. +Well, of course I'll lick him. Jimmy's +a good boy, but he can't stay, and then +<i>he</i> hasn't gone twenty rounds with +three blacks, as I have. But what's +my opinion matter to you? Why +make me shout it out like a cock on +a steeple?</p> + +<p>"Yes, I shall beat Jimmy. Six +rounds will cure him. All right. Very +well then. Leave it at that.</p> + +<p>"One of your fellows called upon me +two days ago. 'Pete,' he said, 'they +say you're ill.' 'You tell 'em to mind +their own ills,' I gave him back. Ill, +indeed! If I were ill could I walk my +forty miles a day and think nothing of +it?" Could I lift Harry Blokes there +with one hand and hold him above my +head? D'you suppose a sick man +could do <i>this</i>?"</p> + +<p>The Puncher seized a skipping-rope +and did marvellous things with it. +Then he smashed lustily at a punch-ball, +left, right, left, right, duck, bing! +"Here, Harry!" he cried. His sparring +partner approached, bruised but +beaming. The Puncher knocked him +down.</p> + +<p>"I seem ill, don't I?" said Pete, +turning to me. "But what's it got to +do with all you chaps, anyway? Wait +till Thursday. Then you'll find out +whether I'm ill or not. And even if I +was ill Jimmy couldn't do it. Jimmy's +got as good a punch as the next man. +I'll say that for him. If he gets it in +it would foil an ox. But can he get it +in? Not next Thursday.</p> + +<p>"Now, see here, you're not going to +draw any words from me about the +coming fight. You may draw others. +I refuse. Let's get right off this fight +and on to other things.</p> + +<p>"After all, fighters are modest chaps. +When I knocked Torpedo Troop out +in three rounds last April for a purse +of £5,000 and the Championship of +Nova Scotia I didn't go bragging. I +might have said that this was the first +time that the Torpedo had ever had +his eyes closed. Well, I didn't. What's +more, I never shall. Tell your reader +that!</p> + +<p>"Take my victory over Quartermain, +again. Or over Dinghy Abbs, who was +down and out in the second round in +spite of all the fuss that was made about +him beforehand. I was a sick man at +both these fights. Not a soul knew it, +mind you. My wife—for I'm as fond +of home life as any ordinary man, and +we have a little baby—my wife used to +worry terribly. She'd expect me to +come home on a stretcher. But I +never happened to choose that conveyance, +and she don't fret any more.</p> + +<p>"Will it be a stretcher on Thursday? +I can see you want to put that question, +but I'll ask you to excuse me. Next +Thursday, as I've already hinted, will +tell its own story, and when I say that +the tale will have a happy ending for +one of us who isn't too far from your +ear to boast about it if he was inclined +that way, perhaps you'll guess without +my telling you what I mean.</p> + +<p>"Not at all, Sir. Don't mention it. +I'm always glad to have a friendly chat +with anyone, and I hope you'll forgive +me for refusing to talk shop."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%;"> +<a href="images/091.png"> +<img width="100%" alt="PERMIT ME, GENTLEMEN" src="images/091.png" /></a> + +<h4>A RESORT TO THE OBVIOUS.</h4> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in"><span class="sc">Mr. Punch.</span> "PERMIT ME, GENTLEMEN—I DON'T THINK YOU KNOW ONE ANOTHER: +SIR EDWARD CARSON—MR. REDMOND. IT'S MORE THAN TIME YOU MET."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p><br /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +<h3>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<span class="sc">Extracted from the Diary +of Toby, M.P.</span>)</p> + +<p><i>House of Lords, Monday, July +13.</i>—<span class="sc">Camperdown</span>, like <span class="sc">Habakkuk</span>, +is <i>capable de tout</i>. Can do +(is at least ready to undertake) +anything. Like Lord <span class="sc">John +Russell</span>, he would at an hour's +notice take charge of the British +fleet, whether in Home waters +or on Foreign stations. Confesses +with pathetic modesty +that there are two things beyond +his capacity. One is to find a +needle in a pottle of hay; the +other, to discover a teller in +Division Lobby when no one +proposes to tell.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 40%;"> +<a href="images/093a.png"> +<img width="100%" src="images/093a.png" alt="Masterman recalls happy memories" /></a> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in">The shade of <span class="sc">Masterman</span> recalls happy memories to the +inconsolable <span class="sc">Worthington Evans</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>To-night this last dilemma +faced noble earl. Home Rule +Amendment Bill before House +in Report stage. <span class="sc">Macdonell</span> +moved amendment introducing +principle of proportional representation. +After long debate +Question put from Woolsack. There +being a few cries of "Not content!" +House cleared for division.</p> + +<p>Hereupon strange thing happened. +Whilst majority of peers streamed into +Content Lobby discovery was made that +not only were there no tellers for the +Not-Contents but no Not-Contents for +the tellers. Fortunately <span class="sc">Camperdown</span> +on the spot. Instantly took charge of +the affair. According to his own +narrative, which thrilled the +listening Senate, he had gone +into Division Lobby, "where," +he added, "I stayed a long time."</p> + +<p>Began to realise something of +the feeling of the boy who stood +on the burning deck whence all +but he had fled. <span class="sc">Camperdown</span> +essentially a man of action. +No use mooning round deserted +Lobby wondering where everybody +was.</p> + +<p>"I tried," he protested, "to +find a teller for the Not-Contents, +which I was not able to do. +There were no Not-Contents in +the Not-Contents' Lobby and +there were no tellers. I do not +know," he added, turning his +head with enquiring pose, like +<i>Mr. Pecksniff</i> asking his pupil +<i>Martin Chuzzlewit</i> to take compass, +pencil and paper, and "give +me your idea of a wooden leg," +"whether any of your lordships +have seen an occurrence like +this before. I have not."</p> + +<p>Murmur of sympathy ran +round perturbed benches. Dilemma +awful, unprecedented, +irretrievable. But everyone felt that +<span class="sc">Camperdown</span> had done his duty, and +that if he had failed to find Not-Contents +in an empty Lobby no one else +could have found them.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—In House of Commons +<span class="sc">Premier</span> announced winding-up +of business at earliest possible moment +with intent to meet again in +"early winter" for new Session. No +Autumn Session, you'll observe. +Feeling against it so strong that +insistence might have broken +bonds that link faithful Ministerialists +with their esteemed +Leader. Accordingly prorogation +about usual time in +August, and new Session, instead +of opening in February, +will date from November. When +we come to think of it, seems +to amount to much the same +thing as Autumn Session, which +usually begins in mid-October. +That an illusion. There will be +no Autumn Session. Only we +shall all be back at Westminster +again in drear November.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 40%;"> +<a href="images/093b.png"> +<img src="images/093b.png" width="100%" alt="adaptations of a German system" /></a> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in">"He did not want these adaptations of a German system, +which the <span class="sc">Chancellor of the Exchequer</span> seemed to have +chosen."—<i>Lord <span class="sc">Hugh Cecil.</span></i></p> +</div> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Tuesday.</i>—Like +<span class="sc">Rachel</span> weeping for her +children, the Opposition will not +be comforted in respect of the +continued absence of <span class="sc">Chancellor</span> +of the Duchy. 'Tis a touching +trait, illustrating the high +level of human nature the +Commons reach. Had it been +<span class="sc">Masterman's</span> political friends +who mourned his absence, recognising +in it cause of insecurity for the Empire, +situation would be natural and comprehensible. +It is from the so-labelled +enemy's camp that lamentation is +sounded. <span class="sc">Worthington Evans, Masterman's</span> +severest censor whilst he still +sat on Treasury Bench in charge of +Insurance Act, is in especial degree inconsolable. +Physically and intellectually +reduced to a pulp—using +the word of course in Parliamentary +sense.</p> + +<p>As he is too unnerved to +dwell upon subject, <span class="sc">Barnston</span> +and <span class="sc">Hayes Fisher</span> to-day take +it up. Want to know how long +a state of things most painful +on their side of the House is +to continue? <span class="sc">Premier</span> makes +light reply. Points out that +it's no new thing for a Minister +to fail to find a seat, the globe +meanwhile serenely revolving +on its axis. In 1885 and in 1892 +the Duchy was unrepresented on +the Treasury Bench.</p> + +<p>A more striking case, overlooked +by <span class="sc">Premier</span>, of a Minister +long struggling with adversity +at the poll finding the +door of House of Commons +bolted and barred is familiar to +Lord <span class="sc">Halsbury</span>. Appointed +Solicitor-General in 1875 <span class="sc">Hardinge +Giffard</span> did not take his +seat till the Session of 1877. +Crushed at Cardiff, left in the +lurch at Launceston, hustled at +Horsham, named as a probable +starter at every election race<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +in the three kingdoms taking place +within a period of eighteen months, +he persuaded the blushing borough of +Launceston, on a second wooing, to +yield to his advances.</p> + +<p>Oddly enough, when at last he came +to the Table to take the oath, he found +he had mislaid the return to the writ, +production of which is indispensable +preliminary. Was nearly turned back, +a calamity averted by discovery of the +document in his hat on a bench +under the Gallery where he had +awaited <span class="sc">Speaker's</span> summons to +the Table.</p> + +<p>But precedents are nothing when +the bosom is deeply stirred.</p> + +<p>"Can't the <span class="sc">Chancellor</span> of the +Duchy make an effort to secure a +seat?" <span class="sc">Barnston</span> asked in tremulous +voice.</p> + +<p>"He has made two already," +retorted the practical <span class="sc">Premier</span>.</p> + +<p>Then came along <span class="sc">Watt</span>, with +cryptic inquiry breaking silence +that brooded over Ministerial +benches.</p> + +<p>"Has the time not arrived," he +asked, "to jettison <span class="sc">Jonah</span>, in view +of the fact that nobody seems +willing to swallow him but the +whale?"</p> + +<p>House left thinking the matter +over.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—House of Lords +passed Third Reading of transformed +Home Rule Amendment +Bill. In the Commons Budget Bill +again dealt with in Committee. +Sharp strictures from both sides. +But Ministerialists who had come +to criticise remained to vote in its +favour. Majority accordingly maintained +at normal level.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday.</i>—<span class="sc">Son Austen</span>, who +little more than a fortnight ago left +the House Member for East Worcester, +returned to-day representing +the division of Birmingham where +his father sat impregnably throned +for uninterrupted period of twenty-nine +years. As he walked up to +Table to take the oath and sign afresh +the roll of Parliament, was hailed by +hearty burst of general cheering.</p> + +<p>This rare. Common enough for one +or other political party to welcome +recruit to its ranks. On such occasions, +the other side sit silent, save when +especial circumstances elicit responsive +bout of ironical cheering. To-day's +demonstration afforded striking recognition +of genuine merit modestly displayed.</p> + +<p>Ever a difficult thing for young +Member to be son of distinguished +father also seated in the House. Position +to be sustained only by exercise +of qualities of mind and manner +rarely combined. Whilst his father +yet enthralled attention and admiration +of House by supreme capacity +<span class="sc">Son Austen</span> successfully faced the +ordeal. After <span class="sc">Don José's</span> withdrawal +from the scene his son's advance to a +leading place in the councils of his +party and the estimation of the House +was rapid. Within limits of present +Session he has shown increased power +as a debater, promising attainment of +still loftier heights. Ever courteous in +manner, untainted by the "new style" +deplored by <span class="sc">Premier</span>, he, though an +uncompromising party man, has made +no personal enemies among any section +of his political opponents.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—House of Lords +threw out Plural Voters Bill on second +time of asking. Commons still in Committee +on Budget.</p> + +<hr /> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 35%;"> +<a href="images/094.png"> +<img width="100%" src="images/094.png" alt="A REVOLTING TASK." /></a> + +<h4>A REVOLTING TASK.</h4> +<center><span class="sc">The waiter's early-morning job.</span></center> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Hearne and Mead, the not-outs of Monday, +were separated at 80, their partnership +having yielded 441 in forty-five minutes."</p> + +<p><i>Daily Mail.</i></p></div> + +<p>The spectators, we suppose, could stand +the strain no longer.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>DIPLOMACY.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>Yawning, though rude, is, according +to the doctors, an extremely healthy +exercise.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I have a friend who wrote a book</p> +<p class="i2">And begged me to peruse it,</p> +<p class="i0">And bluntly state the view I took—</p> +<p class="i2">Encourage or abuse it.</p> +<p class="i0">I want, he said, the truth alone,</p> +<p class="i0">But said it in a hopeful tone.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Perceiving there was no escape,</p> +<p class="i2">With Chapter I. I led off;</p> +<p class="i0">Page 2 provoked my earliest gape,</p> +<p class="i2">At 3 I yawned my head off,</p> +<p class="i0">At 4 I cast the thing away</p> +<p class="i0">Unto some dim and distant day.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">For weeks I racked my harassed brain</p> +<p class="i2">For something kind and ruthful,</p> +<p class="i0">To spare his feelings and remain</p> +<p class="i2">Comparatively truthful</p> +<p class="i0">(I'm very often troubled by</p> +<p class="i0">My inability to lie).</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Dear Charles," I wrote him in the end,</p> +<p class="i2">"I fear no contradiction</p> +<p class="i0">When I declare that you have penned</p> +<p class="i2">A healthy work of fiction.</p> +<p class="i0">I am, I candidly admit,</p> +<p class="i0">A sounder man through reading it."</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + + +<p>"Captain Turner only got a single +when J. W. Hearne bowled him, and +lunch was taken.</p> +<div class="center"> +<span class="sc">Essex.</span> +<table summary="scoreboard"> +<tbody> +<tr><td>F. L. Fane c. Hendren b. Kidd</td><td>57</td></tr> +<tr><td>Russell run out</td><td>51</td></tr> +<tr><td>Major Turner b. J. W. Hearne</td><td> 1"</td></tr> +</tbody> +</table> +</div> + +<p>Probably the Major got his step +during lunch; and it was no doubt +richly deserved, though not on +account of the score he had made +in the morning as a Captain.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"John Charles Edmund Carson were +the names which Lord Gillford, the +infant heir of Lord and Lady Clanwilliam, +received yesterday afternoon."</p> + +<p><i>Daily Mail.</i></p></div> + +<p>If only this were a misprint for John +Charles Redmond Carson.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The anniversary of the Cattle of the +Boyne was celebrated with unusual enthusiasm +throughout Canada."</p> + +<p><i>"Times" Toronto Correspondent.</i></p></div> + +<p>These were the original Irish bulls, we +suppose.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Plant strawberry runners with grouse on +Aug. 12th."—<i>R. H. S. Gardener's Diary.</i></p> + +<p>"Plant daffodils between grouse and partridges."—<i>R. H. S. +Gardener's Diary.</i></p></div> + +<p>The daffodils should make good cover, +but the runners will stand no chance +against the Cockney sportsman.</p> +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;"> +<a href="images/095.png"> +<img width="100%" alt="Is the batsman out or not?" src="images/095.png" /></a> +<h4>THE OLD, OLD PROBLEM.</h4> +<span class="sc">Is the batsman out or not?</span> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>EXERCISE 1.</h3> + +<p>I must confess that at one time I +had little regard for collectors of +cigarette cards; it seemed a feeble +pursuit, though perhaps I should add +I am of a somewhat intellectual nature. + +Some little time ago, however, I +happened to glance at one of these +cards and was surprised to see a picture +of a gentleman attired in white flannels +and a vest of white, decorated with red +embroidery. He was grasping a towel +in both hands and appeared to have +two or three sets of arms. The label +said, "Scarf or Towel Exercises 4." A +perusal of the instructions on the back +of the card made everything clear.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later I entered the shop +of an athletic outfitter. Unfortunately +he had no white vests with red edges: +I had to purchase one with blue. A +scarf or towel I could find at home.</p> + +<p>Then I entered a tobacconist's.</p> + +<p>Four days later I had collected Scarf +or Towel Exercises 2 and 3.</p> + +<p>"We can," I said, "now make a +start." As a matter of fact it was not +altogether a foolish proceeding. Deep +thinkers are apt to overlook the need +for physical culture. This error I +decided to remedy.</p> + +<p>Every morning I (1) stood in position +illustrated, (2) raised arms above +head in manner indicated by the instructions, +(3) straightened right arm +and lowered right hand so that towel +(<i>still taut</i>) sloped to right, (4) returned +to Position 1. I then changed towel +for scarf (my own idea) and continued +with Exercises 3 and 4.</p> + +<p>I was very happy; my only worry +was the absence of Scarf or Towel +Exercises 1.</p> + +<p>Every morning I called at the +tobacconist's and purchased packets of +cigarettes, eagerly searching them for +the missing card. Every afternoon I +called again.</p> + +<p>For a week I bore my disappointment +bravely; then I became cynical.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," I said, "there is no +Exercise 1. It may be a joke on the +part of the makers."</p> + +<p>My consumption of cigarettes increased. +Packet followed packet with +extraordinary rapidity, and still no +Exercise 1.</p> + +<p>I began to get worried. "Is it safe." +I asked myself, "to do 2, 3 and 4 without +1? The omission may have a +serious effect on 2, 3 and 4."</p> + +<p>Then I returned to the attack with +renewed vigour. In a week I got +through twenty tens—with no result.</p> + +<p>Disappointed and weary I was walking +to the office one morning when +suddenly I had an attack of giddiness. +By the end of the day I was beginning +to wonder if I was very ill. I felt it. +Usually the clearest of thinkers, I was +dizzy and dazed.</p> + +<p>The evening saw the arrival of my +doctor, and a thorough examination +followed, at the end of which he shook +his head gravely.</p> + +<p>"'M," he murmured. "Ah."</p> + +<p>"Tell me," I said with extraordinary +calmness—"tell me the worst. Brain +fever, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear no," he replied. "What +I'm worrying about is the heart. It's +in a bad state-a really bad state. +Heaven knows how many cigarettes +you've been consuming lately. You'll +have to stop it altogether."</p> + +<p>I looked at him blankly; then, with +a bitter laugh, I (1) stood in position +illustrated, (2) raised arms above head +in manner indicated by the instructions, +(3) straightened right arm and +lowered right hand so that handkerchief +(<i>still taut</i>) sloped to right, and +(4) returned to sofa.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>The Latest Style in Strikes.</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Engineers and firemen on the western +railways of the United States have threatened +to strike unless their demands for increased +wages and other reforms are not granted."</p> + +<p><i>The Times.</i></p></div> + +<p>They seem very hard to please.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%;"> +<a href="images/096.png"> +<img width="100%" alt="Irving as Sir Hubert Lisle" src="images/096.png" /></a> + +<h4>Mr. H. B. <span class="sc">Irving</span> (<i>Sir Hubert Lisle</i>).</h4> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in">"Pomfret will fall in another two seconds if +I don't ride over and raise the siege. Still, +my first duty is to Mr. <span class="sc">Stephen Phillips</span>, +and he wants me for a few dialogues and a +brace of soliloquies before I start."</p> +</div> + +<h3>AT THE PLAY.</h3> + +<p class="center">"<span class="sc">The Sin of David.</span>"</p> + +<p>This is not, like the plays in which +<span class="sc">Joseph</span> has recently figured, an adaptation +from the Hebrew. Mr. <span class="sc">Stephen +Phillips</span> has given a seventeenth-century +(<span class="sc">A.D.</span>) setting to the <span class="sc">Bathsheba</span> +motive, transplanting it from the polygamous +East into the England of one-man-one-wife. +His object, no doubt, +was to emphasize one aspect of his +borrowed theme, which is further enforced +by his choice of <i>milieu</i>—the +camp of the Puritans.</p> + +<p>Lest this fairly obvious note of +irony should escape us, Mr. <span class="sc">Phillips</span> +accentuates it at the start by making +his <span class="sc">David</span> (<i>Sir Hubert Lisle</i>, Commander +of the Parliamentary Forces in +the fenland) condemn a young officer +to be shot for a "carnal" offence. The +delinquent's answer—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Thou who so lightly dealest death to me</p> +<p class="i0">Be thou then very sure of thine own soul;"</p> +</div></div> + +<p>and <i>Lisle's</i> prayer—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"And judge me, Thou that sittest in Thy Heaven,</p> +<p class="i0">As I have shown no mercy, show me none!...</p> +<p class="i0">If ever a woman's beauty shall ensnare</p> +<p class="i0">My soul into such sin as he hath sinned"—</p> +</div></div> + +<p>these passages, even if the title of the +play had not prepared us, afford fair +warning of the way in which things +have got to go. In fact it is all very +simple and straightforward, and (on +the constructive side) Hellenic. Perhaps +indeed the treatment is a little +too direct, and the tragedy moves too +quickly to its consummation (thirty or +forty minutes suffice for the reading of +it). It might serve its publisher (of the +Bodley Head) as one of a series to be +entitled: "Half-hours with the Best +Sinners."</p> + +<p>As a poem <i>The Sin of David</i> cannot +compare for beauty with <i>Paolo and +Francesca</i>, though it contains isolated +lines which recall Mr. <span class="sc">Phillips's</span> +earliest drama, such as the plea of +<i>Joyce</i>, the condemned officer—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="">"Her face was close to me, and dimmed the world."</p> +</div></div> + +<p>or <i>Lisle's</i>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="">"Thou hast unlocked the loveliness of earth."</p> +</div></div> + +<p>But then, of course, the exotic manner +would here have been an impropriety. +This is not Rimini; it is the English +Fenland; and all the characters, with +the exception of <i>Miriam Mardyke</i> (the +<span class="sc">Bathsheba</span> of the piece), who was bred +in France and had its sun in her blood, +were of the Puritan pattern that does +not accommodate itself very easily to +the language of passion.</p> + +<p>But all this we knew ten years ago, +when <i>The Sin of David</i> was first published; +and the only new interest was +the question of its adaptability to the +theatre. Poetic drama seldom gains +much by presentation on the stage, +unless it is full of action; and there is +little action in this play except of the +inward kind. In almost the only case +where quick movement is here demanded +one becomes conscious of the intrusion +of words. When he knows that the +relief of Pomfret depends upon his instant +action, <i>Lisle</i> still finds time for +conversations with his servant, with +<i>Miriam</i> and with the doctor, and for +a couple of well-sustained soliloquies.</p> + +<p>Certain lines, again, whose literary +flavour, when read, makes us overlook +their inherent improbability in the +mouth of the character that utters +them, take on, when spoken, an air of +artifice. Such are the lines in which +<i>Miriam</i> describes her old sister-in-law, +to her face, as</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i04">"living without sin</p> +<p class="">And reputably rusting to the grave."</p> +</div></div> + +<p>And there is always the danger that +actors will be content with a rather +slurred and perfunctory recitation of +lines that have no bearing on the +action but are just inserted for joy as +a rhetorical embroidery.</p> + +<p>It may be a trivial criticism, but I +think the play suffered a little from the +appearance of the love-child whose +death was to be the punishment for +<i>Lisle's</i> sin in sending <i>Mardyke</i> to his +death in a forlorn hope. The instructions +in my book are contradictory. +The time of Act III. is described as +"five years later," and we are then told +that "four years are supposed to have +elapsed since Act II." Anyhow, the boy +should be only three or four years old. +Actually he is a girl (the stage must +have it so) of some ten summers. You +may say that all those years during +which the lovers' passion has been +purified by worship of the child's innocence, +and "God has not said a word," +add a dramatic force to the blow when +at last it falls. But for myself—a mere +matter of taste—I feel that the vengeance +of Heaven has been nursed too +long.</p> + +<p>As for the interpretation, I must +honestly compliment Mr. <span class="sc">Irving</span> and +Miss <span class="sc">Miriam Lewes</span> on their performance. +It is true that I should never +have mistaken Mr. <span class="sc">Irving</span> for a fighting +Roundhead, and he might well have +sacrificed something of his personality +for the sake of illusion. It is true, too, +that he was more concerned about +dramatic than poetic effects; yet, within +the limitations of a very marked individuality, +he did justice to the author by a +performance that was most sincere and +persuasive. Miss <span class="sc">Lewis</span> played her +more difficult part with great charm +and delicacy. Her manner, even under +stress of passionate feeling, still kept the +right restraint that <i>Miriam</i> had learnt +from her environment; but always we +were made to feel that under the prim +Puritan gown was a body that had +been "born in the sun's lap," and held +the warmth of the vinelands in its veins. +Perhaps it was from France, too, that +<i>Miriam</i> had caught her strange habit +of pronouncing "my" (a perfectly good +word) as "me."</p> + +<p>There is little so worth seeing on the +stage to-day as <i>The Sin of David</i>, and +I very sincerely hope that both the +play and its interpreters may win the +wide appreciation they have earned.</p> +<p class="author">O. S.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p>It is unfortunate that Mr. <span class="sc">Arthur +Eckerley's</span> ingenious little farce, <i>A +Collection will be made</i>, was only +introduced into the bill at the Garrick +two days before the withdrawal of the +<i>Duke of Killicrankie</i>, and that, like +the melancholy <i>Jaques</i>, it has had to +share the ducal exile. I look forward +to its early reappearance under happier +auspices, and with Mr. <span class="sc">Guy Newall</span> +again in the leading part.</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The father of a young lady, aged 15—a +typical '<span class="sc">Flapper</span>'—with all the self-assurance +of a woman of 30, would be grateful for the +recommendation of a seminary (not a convent) +where she might be placed."—<i>Times.</i></p> + +<p>"Coaching required for Cambridge Little +Girl."—<i>Times.</i></p></div> + +<p>Is it the same little girl?</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;"> +<a href="images/097.png"> +<img width="100%" alt="purchase of donkeys" src="images/097.png" /></a><br /><br /> +<span class="sc">A proposal for the purchase of donkeys for practising ammunition-supply in +the field has been approved by the War Office.</span> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>RETROSPECTIVE.</h3> + +<p class="center">[<i>The armbone of a prehistoric lion has +been discovered in Fleet Street during +the excavations for the new offices of +"The Daily Chronicle." Remains of +other prehistoric animals were found +some years ago near the same spot.</i>]</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class=""><span class="sc">Reader</span>, when last you went down Fleet</p> +<p class="">(Wait half-a-second. Thank you.) Street,</p> +<p class="">And gazed upon it from your seat,</p> +<p class="i4">Perched on a motor-bus,</p> +<p class="">Did you, I wonder, guess that there,</p> +<p class="">In ages long ago, the bear</p> +<p class="">Contended for the choicest lair</p> +<p class="i4">With the rhinoceros?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="">Where now the expectant taxis prowl,</p> +<p class="">And growlers, still surviving, growl,</p> +<p class="">And agonised pedestrians howl,</p> +<p class="i4">Seeing the traffic skid,</p> +<p class="">There lions roamed the swampy glade,</p> +<p class="">There the superb okapi brayed,</p> +<p class="">And many a mighty mammoth made</p> +<p class="i4">Whatever noise it did.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="">It pleases me to pause and think</p> +<p class="">That where to-day flows printing-ink</p> +<p class="">All sorts of beasts came down to drink</p> +<p class="i4">Clear waters from a spring.</p> +<p class="">I like to reconstruct the scene;</p> +<p class="">I feel existence must have been,</p> +<p class="">Before the rotary machine,</p> +<p class="i4">A more delightful thing.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="">I like to think how, westward bound,</p> +<p class="">Tigers pursued their prey and found</p> +<p class="">The Strand a happy hunting ground,</p> +<p class="i4">Seeking tit-bits by night.</p> +<p class="">Reader, will you come there with me</p> +<p class="">When London lies asleep? Maybe</p> +<p class="">Their phantoms still prowl stealthily</p> +<p class="i4">Down by the Aldwych site.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>SOCIETY NOTES.</h3> + +<p>Lady Diana Dingo was in the Park +yesterday, walking with Lancelot, her +new ant-eater, and the latter, who +has happily recovered from his severe +attack of measles, is now quite tame, +and was wearing bronzed toe-nails and +a large blue ribbon under the left ear.</p> + +<p>The Countess of Torquay and her +sister, Mrs. Pygmalion Popinjay, were +at the Earl's Court Exhibition on +Wednesday. The Countess's crested +toucan, Willy, was much admired.</p> + +<p>The Ladies' Park Pet race at Ranelham +next Friday is expected to prove +an exciting event, especially as Stella. +Lady Killaloo, has entered her large +crocodile, Horace—called after her +late husband—who is known to prove +rather fractious at times.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Halliday Hare is in deep +mourning for her bandicoot, Maud +Eliza, who was unfortunately set upon +and eaten last week by the Hon. Mrs. +Joram's young jaguar during an afternoon +call at the house of a mutual +friend of their mistresses. Mrs. Hare +is leaving town at once, and her house +will be closed until late in the autumn.</p> + +<p>The iguana worn by Miss Bay Buskin +in the second Act of <i>The Belle of Bow +Street</i> is a delightful little creature, and +accompanies his mistress everywhere. +While on the subject of the theatre, we +are glad to learn that the cages now +being erected behind the stage at Galy's +Theatre will soon be ready, when there +should be no further cause for complaint +about the rapacity of some of +the larger carnivora owned by certain +ladies of the chorus.</p> + +<p>The recent fashion of having one's +pet emu coloured to match one's frock +is dying out, and armadilloes with +gilded trotters are becoming the vogue.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> + + +<h3>COMPULSION.</h3> + +<p>"Very well," said the lady of the house, "don't let's do it. +Nobody can force us to go to the seaside if we don't want to."</p> + +<p>"It's too late," I said, "to begin to agree with me now."</p> + +<p>"It's never too late to realise how reasonable you are."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is. The agreement is signed; half the rent has +been paid; Sandstone House has got us by the legs, and, +whether we like it or not, we've got to go there next week."</p> + +<p>"We might try the effect of a death-bed repentance."</p> + +<p>"No," I said, "we're dead already. We died when +the blessed agreement was signed."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, let's write and say our aunt from British +Columbia is about to arrive here unexpectedly on a visit to +us, and that sand and seaweed and prawns and star-fish are +simply death to her. We can wind up with a strong appeal +to the landlord's better nature. No true landlord can +wish to be responsible for the death of anybody's British +Columbian aunt."</p> + +<p>"You're quite wrong," I said. "Landlords just revel in +that kind of thing. Besides, he will not believe in our +aunt. He will say that she is too thin."</p> + +<p>"But the aunt I'm thinking of is stout and wheezy. +She is a widow; her name is Aunt Wilhelmina; except +ourselves there's nobody in the world left for her to cling +to. No marine landlord can dare to separate us from Aunt +Wilhelmina."</p> + +<p>"It's no good," I said. "I'll admit that your Aunt +Wilhelmina——"</p> + +<p>"She's only mine by marriage, you know; but I love +her like a daughter."</p> + +<p>"I admit," I continued, "that Aunt-by-marriage Wilhelmina +may some day be useful to us. We will put her by +for another occasion. But she can't help us now."</p> + +<p>"Well, go ahead yourself and suggest something, then."</p> + +<p>"I could suggest a thousand things. Suppose we just +pay the rest of the rent and don't go."</p> + +<p>"The man," she said with conviction, "is mad."</p> + +<p>"I thought you'd say that, and I know you'd say the +same about any other suggestion of mine, so I shan't make +any more."</p> + +<p>"You mustn't be sulky," she said.</p> + +<p>"I never am. I'm reasonable, but, as usual, you'll +realise it too late. Besides," I added, "it's you who've +brought us into this fix."</p> + +<p>"I?" she said with an air of wonder, "How can I +have done that?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you," I said firmly, for I saw that my chance +had come. "For weeks and weeks past you have been +engaged in shutting up avenues and closing loop-holes. +Wherever there was the tiniest way of escape from the +seaside, there you were with your walls and your fences, +until at last you'd got me safely penned in."</p> + +<p>"You didn't struggle much, did you?"</p> + +<p>"No, I was like the man in <i>The Pit and the Pendulum</i>, +and you were—whoever it was that made the walls close +in on him."</p> + +<p>"I refuse," she said, "to be called a Spanish Inquisition."</p> + +<p>"You may refuse as much as you like, but that's the +sort of thing you've been. How you worked on my +domestic affections and my household pride! When Helen +forgot to go to her music-lesson you said the poor child +was evidently run down and wanted a breath of sea-air. +When Rosie lost her German exercise-book, and when +Peggy fell off her bicycle, you worked both these accidents +round into an imperative demand for salt water. When +John was bitten by a gnat you said the spot was bilious +and things would never be right with him until he got into +a more bracing climate; and when Bates tripped up in the +pantry and broke a week's income in plates and dishes you +said he needed tone and would get it at the sea. Seaside, +seaside, seaside! I couldn't got away from it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you haven't been there yet, you know. You're +shouting before you're hurt."</p> + +<p>"No," I said, "I am not—I mean I am hurt, but I'm +not shouting. I'm just whispering a few salutary truths."</p> + +<p>"And there's another thing," she said; "it must be terrible +for you to know what a designing person your wife is."</p> + +<p>"Madam," I said, "my wife is as heaven made her. I +will not permit her to be abused. She has good impulses. +She means well. Her plain sewing is quite excellent."</p> + +<p>"Spare me," who said, "oh spare me. I will never go to +the sea again."</p> + +<p>"But you <i>shall</i> go to the sea," I said. "Everything is +settled. The agreement is signed; the tickets are all but +taken. John and Peggy are panting for pails and spades. +Do you think I want to stand in the way of their innocent +pleasures? We will all try for shrimps while you sit on a +heap of sand and tell us not to get too wet, or that it's +time for tea, and have I forgotten the thermos-flask again."</p> + +<p>"Horatio," she said, "I can see you paddling in my +mind's eye."</p> + +<p>"But tell me," I said, "when do we start."</p> + +<p>"We start on Tuesday. The whole lot of us together, +you know, servants and all. Won't that be fun?"</p> + +<p>"Ye—es," I said, "it will—I mean it would if I could +go with you, but unfortunately——"</p> + +<p>"<i>What!</i>" she said, "you mean to desert us?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, I can never desert you, but I've got two +solemn engagements on Tuesday—meetings in the City."</p> + +<p>"Then I'm to take the whole party, am I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear," I said. "And I'll join you next day."</p> + +<p>"You've won," she said.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>KITTY ADARE.</h3><br /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Sweet as a wild-rose was Kitty Adare,</p> +<p class="i0">Blithe as a laverock and shy as a hare;</p> +<p class="i2">Mid all the grand ladies of all the grand cities</p> +<p class="i2">You'd not find the face half so pretty as Kitty's;</p> +<p class="i2">"'Tis the fine morning this, Kit," says I; she says, "It is,"</p> +<p class="i0">The day she went walking to get to the Fair.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">She was bred to give trouble, was Kitty Adare,</p> +<p class="i0">For she had my heart caught like a bird in a snare;</p> +<p class="i2">O, her laugh was the ripple of quick-running water,</p> +<p class="i2">And—the seventh-born child of a seventh-born daughter—</p> +<p class="i2">She wore the green shoes that the fairies had brought her</p> +<p class="i0">To help her go dancing that day at the Fair.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">She'd the foot of a princess, had Kitty Adare,</p> +<p class="i0">And the road fell behind her like peel off a pear;</p> +<p class="i2">She was into the town with the lads and the lassies,</p> +<p class="i2">And the shouting of showmen and braying of asses,</p> +<p class="i2">And on to the green where the host of the grass is,</p> +<p class="i0">With the sun shining bright on the fun of the Fair!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">She was light as a feather, was Kitty Adare,</p> +<p class="i0">And she danced like a flame in a current of air;</p> +<p class="i2">O, look at her now—she retreating, advancing,</p> +<p class="i2">And stepping and stopping, and gliding and glancing!</p> +<p class="i2">There wasn't a one was her marrow at dancing</p> +<p class="i0">Of all the young maidens who danced at the Fair.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">O Kitty, O Kitty, O Kitty Adare,</p> +<p class="i0">Till the music was beaten you danced to it there;</p> +<p class="i2">And the fiddler, poor fellow, the way that he was in,</p> +<p class="i2">Him sweating for six and his bow wanting rosin,</p> +<p class="i2">He was put past the fiddling a month—all because in</p> +<p class="i0">A pair of green shoes Kitty danced at the Fair!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%;"> +<a href="images/099.png"> +<img width="100%" alt="Cheerful Householder" src="images/099.png" /></a><br /><br /> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in"><i>Cheerful Householder (to burglar).</i> "<span class="sc">By the way, when +you go downstairs you might let the cat in; she's been spoiling +my sleep.</span>"</p> +</div> +<hr /> + +<h3>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</p> + +<p>If memory serves me, the publishers of <i>World's End</i> +(<span class="sc">Hurst and Blackett</span>) described its theme as one of +unusual delicacy, or words to that effect. I should like to +reassure them. The particular kind of marriage of convenience +which it concerns (marriage for the convenience of +the wronged heroine, by which the virtuous hero gives his +name to the child of the villain) may be, indeed is, a delicate +matter, but—in fiction at least—by no manner of means +unusual. Nor can I see that its present treatment by +<span class="sc">Amèlie Rives</span> (Princess <span class="sc">Troubetzkoy</span>) lends it any degree +of novelty. No, let me be just; perhaps <i>Richard Bryce</i>, the +wicked betrayer, does strike a somewhat new note, at least +in his beginnings. <i>Richard</i> was the product of art superimposed +upon dollars. He was so cultured that the +humanity in him had dwindled to a negligible quantity; +and thus, when poor <i>Phoebe</i> wanted him to "do the right +thing by her," he sent her instead some charmingly modern +French verse—which she could not understand—and finally +took ship for Europe in mingled alarm and boredom. You +will have gathered that the scene is laid in America. +Perhaps this explains the hero. <i>Owen Randolph</i> was one +of the strong and silent. He was so silent that, though he +knew perfectly well all that had happened, he married +<i>Phoebe</i>, and allowed that unhappy lady to suffer chapters +of agonized apprehension as to his attitude, when half-a-dozen +words would have set her at ease on the subject. +He was, moreover, so strong that, when eventually the +theme of their relations with <i>Phoebe</i> did crop up between +himself and <i>Richard</i>, the latter spent some months in +hospital as a consequence. However, he recovered, and +things were thus able to reach the kind of ending which +was expected of them. There are parts of <i>World's End</i> +that are worthy of a better whole, but that is the best I can +say for it.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>I believe that <i>Paul Moorhouse</i> (<span class="sc">Long</span>) was never really +predestined to end unhappily and that his suicide was a +conclusion as little premeditated by the author as it was +apparently by the hero. If such ends must be, they should +be a climax demanded by relentless logic: some sort of +culminating event should occur which, added to what has +gone before, leaves no alternative. <i>Paul</i>, however, had +survived for years under the stress of all the circumstances +which finally constrained him to make an end of himself; +and, had he stayed the course—only another hour or so—he +would have found that all had turned out for the best and +that adequate arrangements had been made for his permanent +happiness. No doubt these things happen in real life +and I cannot accuse Mr. <span class="sc">George Wouil</span> (a most +discerning +author) of any inhuman treatment of his puppet; yet I +wish that he had been more kindly disposed and had spared +me a bitter disappointment. Having known <i>Paul</i>, man +and boy, for upwards of ten years, I had become sincerely +attached to him; as assistant time-keeper, foreman and +works-manager he showed a spirit true to the real Black +Country type. He had his moments of weakness when he +went astray after the manner of his kind; but he always +became master of himself again and, when he had to, paid +like a man the price of his misdeeds, never pausing to discover<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +the overcharge. As for <i>Joan Ware</i>, his intended and +his due, she was a dear; poor dear!</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>I do not think that you will believe <i>The Story of Fifine</i> +(<span class="sc">Constable</span>), although Mr. <span class="sc">Bernard Capes</span> takes some +pains to give it an air of actuality; but if you are like me +you will not be greatly concerned about that. Purporting +to be the ill-used daughter of a mad French marquis, +<i>Fifine</i>, in that <i>naïve</i> and charming way which has always +been so dear to the hearts of novelists, came to live at the +bachelor abode in Paris of the sculptor <i>Felix Dane</i> (his half-sister, +who was keeping house for the marquis, provided +the introduction), and, calling each other "cousin" and +"gossip," these two shared rooms together in perfect simplicity +of soul and held several conversations which reflect. +I suppose, Mr. <span class="sc">Bernard Capes'</span> views on the plastic arts +and life in general. And why, in passing, he should continue +to heap ridicule on staid Victorian respectability I +cannot for the life of me imagine. The plucky and unorthodox +thing nowadays +surely is to make game +of Bohemianism. But, +anyhow, the happy moment +for me arrived when +<i>Felix Dane</i> suggested (on +the grounds that the +marquis would soon discover +his daughter's hiding-place) +a holiday tour +through Provence. Mr. +<span class="sc">Bernard Capes</span> in Provence +is Mr. <span class="sc">Bernard +Capes</span> at his best. How +the lovers (for that—perhaps +you roguishly +guessed it?—they gradually +became) paid visits +to Nîmes, to Aigues-Mortes, +to Arles and to +Paradou les Baux, and +met <i>M. Carabas Cabarus</i>, +the native minstrel, you +must read for yourself, +for I cannot give a faint +idea of the eloquence with +which their fairyland is portrayed. And if the plot ends as +artificially as it began, and with an unnecessary tragedy +thrown in, I suppose for the sake of that idyll in the very +nesting-place of idylls I must shrug my shoulders and forgive. +After all, it does not matter much who <i>Fifine</i> really +was, nor what happened to her. Suffice it that Mr. <span class="sc">Bernard +Capes</span> has conducted her to Arles.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>The Caddis-Worm</i> (<span class="sc">Hurst and Blackett</span>) is an appropriate +enough title for Mrs. <span class="sc">Dawson Scott's</span> novel, but I +confess to having grown a little restive at its appearance +on the top of each of 352 pages. "Episodes in the Life of +Richard and Catharine Blake" is the alternative title, and +to the average human reader possibly a more significant +one. <i>The Caddis-Worm</i> is quite in the modern manner, +having no plot—or what has been contemptuously called +"anecdote." I have, however, a more genuine grievance +against Mrs. <span class="sc">Dawson Scott</span>, and it is that she seems +inclined to be a propagandist without the requisite robustness. +A little more vigour in her protests against the +iniquity of British laws, and her theme might have allured +me. As it is, the troubles of <i>Catharine</i> with her peremptory +<i>Richard</i> only made me want, but not very keenly, to +take and give her a good shaking. Whereas, with a little +more encouragement, I believe I should have been quite +anxious to kick her husband from the top to the bottom of +several flights of stairs. Drastic methods were taken by +the author to bring <i>Richard</i> to his senses; in fact, at one +time he made a sort of corner in disasters. But unless a +sanatorium exists where patients are treated kindly and +firmly for swollen-head I do not think that <i>Richard's</i> cure +is likely to be permanent. That, however, does not affect +my view that Mrs. <span class="sc">Dawson Scott</span> has given us a book +which is full of clever writing and fairly shrewd observation.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"It was a wild wet night, though the month of May was +well begun." Without caring very much about the month +of May, I felt on reading these introductory words that the +story called <i>My Lady Rosia</i> had excellently well begun. I +am sorry to add, though, that it does not carry on quite so +bravely as you might expect from such a start. My own +suspicion is that <i>Lady Rosia</i> is one of many novels that +owe their existence to a summer holiday. I haven't the +slightest knowledge of +the facts, and still less +wish to incur a libel +action, but, by my way +of imagining it, Miss +<span class="sc">Freda Mary Groves</span> +found herself one day in +the Winchelsea country, +fell very naturally in love +with its jolly old houses, +and determined there and +then to write a story +about them. So here it +is, with a mildly romantic +hero, <i>Bernard</i>, a heroine +in the title <i>rôle</i> who +is as pretty and persecuted +as heroines should +be, a villain (<i>Lord Segrave</i> +by name—even, you see, +in those Black-Princely +days peers were a bad +lot), some conflicts not +quite so exciting as they +might have been, and +the rest of the mixture +as before. You perhaps catch already my chief ground of +complaint. Frankly I do not think that Miss <span class="sc">Groves'</span> pen +is quite sufficiently dashing for this sort of thing. Historical +and adventurous romance, if it is to earn my vote, must keep +me out of breath the whole time. It should never be allowed +to slacken pace; and (to be entirely candid) <i>My Lady Rosia</i> +sometimes ambles rather heavily. I forgot to add that it is +published by <span class="sc">Washbourne</span>, printed on detestable paper, +and contains some pleasant illustrations of the places mentioned +in the story. In few, the best I can say of it is that it +would make a charming gift for the young Person (if she still +survives) on the occasion, say, of a family holiday to Hastings.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 90%;"> +<a href="images/100.png"> +<img width="100%" alt="The Optimist" src="images/100.png"/></a><br /><br /> +<p style="margin-left:.1in;text-indent:-.1in"><i>The Optimist (who has just been struck by a passing +motor-car).</i> "<span class="sc">Glory +be! if this isn't a piece o' luck! Sure, 'tis the docthor himself +that's in ut.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>The John Bull Breed.</h4> + +<p><i>The South African Farmers' Guide</i> pays a pretty compliment +to a well-known family in describing a typical +South Devon bull as the "property of Major <span class="sc">Apthorp</span>, +a magnificent example of this breed."</p> + +<hr class="short"/> + +<p><span class="sc">Wanted.</span>—A Tame Tory who will undertake to write +scathing criticisms on the policy of his own party. Meals +supplied on premises. Sleep in. Address, Offices of <i>Westminster +Gazette</i>.</p><br /> +<hr class="full" /> +<br /><br /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +147, July 22, 1914, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, JULY 22, 191PUNCH, CHARIVARI, JULY 22, 1914 *** + +***** This file should be named 24992-h.htm or 24992-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/9/9/24992/ + +Produced by Neville Allen, Hagay Giller, Malcolm Farmer +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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