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diff --git a/27967-h/27967-h.htm b/27967-h/27967-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9215ecf --- /dev/null +++ b/27967-h/27967-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2172 @@ +<!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, September 30, 1914, by Various</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {text-align: center;} + td {padding-left: 1em;} + td.note {text-align: left;font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: normal; border: 1px dashed; padding: 1em;} + 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%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:25%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .poem1 + {margin-left:35%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem1 .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem1 p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem1 p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem1 p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem1 p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem1 p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem1 p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + .inline {border: none; vertical-align: middle;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + + .regards {text-align: right; + margin-right: 4em;} + + hr.pg { width: 100%; + margin-top: 0em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + border: solid black; + height: 5px; } + pre {font-size: 85%; } + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, +September 30, 1914, by Various, Edited by Sir Owen Seaman</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, September 30, 1914</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: Sir Owen Seaman</p> +<p>Release Date: February 2, 2009 [eBook #27967]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 147, SEPTEMBER 30, 1914***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>VOL. 147.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>September 30, 1914.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>CHARIVARIA</h2> + +<p>The German troops which started out for a "pleasure trip" to Paris are +now reported, owing, no doubt, to the influence of British environment, +to be taking their pleasures sadly.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Several reasons have been given for the destruction of Rheims Cathedral. +The real one is now said to be the following. Owing to the Red Cross +Flag being flown from one of the towers the Germans thought the building +was only a hospital.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A Scotsman gifted with much native humour wishes it to be known how glad +he is to see that the Frenchmen have been getting their Aisne back.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>It is reported that the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> is proceeding to East Prussia to assume +the chief command there. In Petrograd the news is only credited by +extreme optimists.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>It does not say much for the enterprise of our English newspapers that +we should have had to go all the way to India for a reference to what +must have been an exceedingly clever capture of one of the enemy. "As +the war progresses," says <i>The Times of India</i> of the 20th ult., "the +stories of German brutality become more and more frequent. One instance +is shown in a letter from a German soldier captured in a mail-bag in +Lorraine."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>We have always held that the Turkish sense of humour has been +underrated. A leading Ottoman statesman has told <i>Der Tag</i> (the +newspaper of that name: the real thing has not turned up yet): "We only +fear for Germany one thing—her magnanimity towards the conquered, a +quality which she shares with the great Turkish conquerors of the past."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>There is reported to be an uneasy feeling among the poor in our big +towns that, if hard times should come, an attempt will be made to foist +on them many of the weirder garments which kind-hearted ladies have been +making for the troops.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The attention of the public is being directed to the value of fish as a +food, in contradistinction, we suppose, to its remarkable qualities as a +perfume.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George's</span> statement that "The Prussian Junker is the road-hog +of modern Europe" has, we hear, had a curious and satisfactory sequel. +Large numbers of adepts in the art of pig-sticking are joining the +Sportsmans' Battalion which is now in process of formation.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Not the least encouraging result of the War would seem to be that it has +put a stopper on decadent ideas as to dress. Mlle. <span class="sc">Gaby Deslys</span>, we read, +found herself unable to begin her season at the Palace the week before +last as her dresses were delayed in Paris.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A London-born Italian organ-grinder who was plying his trade in Wales +has, <i>The Express</i> tells us, enlisted in Lord <span class="sc">Kitchener's</span> Army for +foreign service, and has left his organ in charge of the recruiting +officer at Barmouth. A pity. It should have made a powerful weapon to +use against the enemy.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>So much has been written about the brutality of the Germans that it +seems only fair to draw attention to an act of humanity on their part. +Steps have been taken at Stuttgart, at any rate, to protect prisoners +against annoyance. "It is," runs a proclamation, "rigorously forbidden +for any woman to cast amorous glances at British and French prisoners."</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%"> +<a href="images/271.png"> +<img src="images/271.png" width="100%" alt="Taking No Risks." /></a><br /> +<h4><span class="sc">Taking No Risks.</span></h4> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A HAUNT OF ANCIENT PEACE.</h2> + +<p>The young man who had come into this quiet room looked round him with a +sigh of relief at finding it empty. It was a large room, and he knew it +well. Usually a little sombre and even oppressive of aspect, to-day it +seemed filled only with an atmosphere of kindly security and +benevolence. He noticed (being sensitive to such impressions) that in +some strange way this restful atmosphere seemed to emanate from the +large table, covered with illustrated papers and magazines, that stood +in the centre. He approached it and, drawing up a chair, began to take +the papers one after another into his hands.</p> + +<p>Then he understood. Gradually, as he read, the nightmare that life had +lately become faded away from him, and he saw himself once more +surrounded by the sane and gentle interests that had been familiar to +him from childhood. In one paper he read how such and such Duchesses +were preparing yacht-parties for Cowes, and of the thrilling triumphs of +the Russian ballet. Another told him that the Government was a +collection of craven imbeciles, and that the price of rubber continued +disappointing. He saw photographs of golf-champions and ladies in the +chorus of musical comedies. One paper had a picture representing the +state entry into somewhere or other of a—a German Royalty. The uniforms +in this caused him a momentary uneasiness, as of a light sleeper who +stirs in his dream and seems about to wake. Then he turned the page, and +the dream closed upon him again as he contemplated an illustrated +solution of the problem "Where shall we spend our summer holidays?"</p> + +<p>He sighed contentedly and went on turning the pages, here reading a +paragraph, here merely glancing at pictures or headlines. Thus the hours +passed. How peaceful it was in this quiet room! And this table of +literature, strange that never before had he appreciated its subtle +charm....</p> + +<p>Long afterwards, when they came to seek him, he was found asleep, a +happy smile upon his face, and his weary head fallen forward amid the +two-months-old newspapers of the dentist's waiting-room.</p> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<h2>AN IMPERIAL OVERTURE.</h2> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>From notes taken by a British airman while engaged in hovering +over the <span class="sc">Kaiser's</span> headquarters at ——. The name of the place is +excised because the Press Bureau Authorities do not wish the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> +to be informed of his own whereabouts.]</i></p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Now let an awful silence hold the field,</p> +<p class="i2">And everybody else's mouth be sealed;</p> +<p class="i2">For lo! your <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> (sound the warning gong!)</p> +<p class="i2">Prepares to loose his clarion lips in song.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">In time of War the poet gets his chance,</p> +<p class="i2">When even wingless Pegasi will prance;</p> +<p class="i2">Yet We, whose pinions oft outsoared the crow's,</p> +<p class="i2">Have hitherto confined Ourself to prose.</p> +<p class="i2">But who shall doubt that We could sing as well as</p> +<p class="i2">That Warrior-bard <span class="sc">Tyrtæus</span>, late of Hellas,</p> +<p class="i2">Who woke the Spartans up with words and chorus</p> +<p class="i2">Twenty-six centuries B.U. (Before Us)?</p> +<p class="i2">Also, since Truth is near allied to Beauty,</p> +<p class="i2">We are convinced that We shall prove more fluty</p> +<p class="i2">Than certain British scribes whom We have read</p> +<p class="i2">(Recently published by The Bodley Head).</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Well, then, it is Our purpose to inflame</p> +<p class="i2">Our soldiers' arteries with lust of fame;</p> +<p class="i2">To give them something in the lyric line</p> +<p class="i2">That shall be tantamount to fumes of wine,</p> +<p class="i2">Yet not too heady, like the champagne (sweet)</p> +<p class="i2">That lately left them dormant in the street,</p> +<p class="i2">So that the British, coming up just then,</p> +<p class="i2">Took them for swine and not for gentlemen.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Rather we look to brace them, soul and limb,</p> +<p class="i2">With something in the nature of a hymn,</p> +<p class="i2">Which they may chant, assisted by the band,</p> +<p class="i2">While working backwards to the Fatherland.</p> +<p class="i2">Put to the air of <i>Deutschland über alles</i></p> +<p class="i2">Or else to one of Our own sacred ballets,</p> +<p class="i2">The lilt of it should leave their hearts so fiery</p> +<p class="i2">That at the finish they would make enquiry—</p> +<p class="i2">"What would our <span class="sc">Attila</span> to-day have done?"</p> +<p class="i2">And, crying "Havoc!" go and play the Hun.</p> +<p class="i2">For there are some cathedrals standing yet,</p> +<p class="i2">And heavy is the task to Culture set,</p> +<p class="i2">Ere We may lay aside the holy rod</p> +<p class="i2">Made to chastise the foes of Us and God.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">And now that We are fairly in the vein</p> +<p class="i2">Let Us proceed to build the lofty strain.</p> +<p class="i2">Ho! bid the Muse to enter and salute</p> +<p class="i2">The burnished toe of Our Imperial boot!</p> +<p class="i2">Hush! guns! and, ye howitzers, cease your fire!</p> +<p class="i2">We, <span class="sc">William</span>, are about to sound the lyre!</p> +</div></div > + +<p class="author">O. S.</p> + +<p><i>Note.</i>—Unfortunately the actual composition of which +this is the preface has been censored, as likely to have a disintergrating effect +upon the discipline of our forces at the front.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>The Two Voices.</h4> + +<p>"It was Mr. Will Crooks, the well-known Labour member, who +asked the Chairman if the House might sing 'God Save the King,' +and when Mr. Crooks started it in his deep bass voice everyone stood +up and joined in the singing."—<i>Westminster Gazette.</i></p> + +<p>"Moreover, Mr. Crooks had pitched the tune a little too high, and +it seemed for a moment that he with his rich high tenor voice would +have to sing the anthem as a solo."—<i>Daily Chronicle.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER.</h2> + +<center>No. II.</center><br /> + +<center>(<i>From the Rev. Dr. <span class="sc">Dryander</span>, Court Chaplain.</i>)</center> + +<p>Most allgracious Sir,—Now that I have finished +writing my sermon for next Sunday I can find time for a +little quiet sound thinking by way of a change. I can say +quite seriously that I am tired to death of writing and +preaching sermons. It is not permitted, highly honoured +EMPEROR, that in my sermon I say anything displeasing to +your Imperial self. I must not remind you that you are a +man like other men, a man liable to weakness and error, +swayed by temper, capable, since your position gives you +power, of trampling on the rights of others in a moment of +passion, of confounding justice with your own desires and +of mistaking the promptings of ambition or malice or envy +for an inspiration from Heaven itself. No, I must not say +all this or any of it, but, on the contrary, I must describe +you to yourself and your family and the chosen intimates +who flatter you beyond even my power to flatter, I must +describe you, I say, as the Lord's, anointed, as the vice-gerent +of God on earth, as being raised by God's favour +above all human foibles, in short, as being supremely right +and just whenever your faults and your injustice cry aloud +for the divine punishment. Even if you were a thoroughly +good and sensible man, <i>totus teres atque rotundus</i>, instead +of being a bundle of caprice and prejudice, the task would +be difficult. As it is, it is unpleasant and ought to be impossible. +My sermons exist to prove that I have attempted +it with such courage as I could command, although in these +conditions courage is only another name for the cowardly +compliance that causes a man to detest himself and to take +a low view of human nature.</p> + +<p>At any rate I have done my best for you. How many +times have I not bidden the faithful to fall down before you +and worship you? Have I not proved from Holy Scripture +that your lightest word is spoken, not by you, but by the +Almighty; that you, in fact, are something higher and +better in bones and flesh and blood and brains than anything +that mere ordinary mortals can pretend to be? I can +see you nodding your head in Imperial approval when such +phrases came from me, and all the time I knew in my +heart that the God of whom you were thinking, and to +whose intimacy you pretended, was not the God under +whom a Christian minister takes service, but a being +formed after the image of a Prussian drill-sergeant who +wears a pointed helmet and a turned-up moustache.</p> + +<p>Sir, I have my doubts as to this fearful war in which we +are engaged. You entered upon it, you say, to carry out +your treaty obligations to Austria. Treaties, no doubt, are +sacred things. But why, then, was not the treaty obligation +to Belgium as sacred as that with Austria? Was it +because Belgium was weak and (as you thought) defenceless +that you invaded her country, slaughtered her people, +and sacked her towns? Was this the reason for the foul +treatment of Louvain? And is it agreeable, do you think, +to the Almighty that the glorious Cathedral of Rheims +should be bombarded and ruined even by German shells?</p> + +<p>When the years have rolled on and you shall have been +called away to render an account of what you did on earth, +for what reasons will you be remembered amongst men? +Not because you established justice and did good deeds—or +even great ones—for your people, but because you +plunged the world in war in order to feed your vanity, +and laid waste Belgium and shattered the Cathedral of +Rheims. Truly a shining memory.</p> + +<p class="regards">Yours, in all humility,</p> +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Dryander.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 45%"> +<a href="images/273.png"> +<img src="images/273.png" width="100%" alt="BOER AND BRITON TOO." /></a> +<h5>BOER AND BRITON TOO.</h5> +<p><span class="sc">General Botha</span> (<i>composing telegram to the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span></i>). "JUST OFF TO REPEL +ANOTHER RAID. YOUR CUSTOMARY WIRE OF CONGRATULATION SHOULD BE ADDRESSED: 'BRITISH HEADQUARTERS—GERMAN SOUTH-WEST AFRICA.'"</p> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/275.png"> +<img src="images/275.png" width="100%" alt="You captured ten Germans by yourself?" /></a> + +<p><i>Incredulous friend</i> (<i>to soldier invalided home</i>). +"<span class="sc">What—you captured ten Germans by yourself? Good gracious! How did you +do it?</span>"</p> +<p ><i>Tommy.</i> "<span class="sc">I just shouted out 'Waiter!' and they came along.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE LAST LINE.</h2> + +<center>I.</center> + +<p>We are the last line of defence. When the Regular Army and the Reserve +Army and the new Million Army and the Indian Army and the Overseas Army +and the Territorial Army are all entering Berlin together, then the +defence of England (we hope) will rest entirely upon us. There are not +many of us, as armies go nowadays, but there ought to be one apiece for +all the towns round the coast, and what we lack in numbers we shall make +up for in pride.</p> + +<p>We are the last line of defence. We all have wives or defective retinas +or birthdays previous to 1879, or something that binds us together +unofficially. Our motto from Monday to Friday is, "Soldier and Civilian +too," and in camp at week-ends, "Remember Przemysl." At present we have +no uniforms, to the disgust of our wives; but they are coming. Opinion +is divided as to whether we want them to come. Some say that, clad in +khaki, we shall get admiring glances from the women and envious glances +from the small boys which are not really our due; our proud spirit +rebels against the idea of marching through London in false colours. +James says that, seeing that a soldier is only a soldier, and that he +himself (James) is a special constable from 4 <span class="sc">A.M.</span> to 8, a dashed +hard-working solicitor from 9.30 to 5, and a soldier from 5.30 to 7, not +to mention the whole week-end, he jolly well expects all the admiration +he can get; and that, if any small boy cheers him under the impression +that he is only a Territorial, he is doing him a confounded injustice. +Perhaps a tail-coat and khaki breeches would best meet the case.</p> + +<p>Then we come to the question of rifles. There are at this moment +thousands of men in the Army who have no rifles. Whole battalions of new +recruits are unarmed. Our battalion is not unarmed; it has a rifle. We +have all seen it; those of us who have been on guard through the cold +dark hours of Saturday-Sunday have even carried it—respectfully, as +becomes a man who thanks Heaven that it is not loaded. Our pride in it +is enormous. Were a sudden night attack by Zeppelins made upon our camp, +the battalion would rally as one man round the old rifle, and fling +boots at the invader until the last pair of ammunition gave out. Then, +spiking the Lee-Enfield, so that it should be useless if it fell into +the hands of the enemy, we should retire barefoot and in good order, +James busily jotting down notes of our last testamentary +dispositions....</p> + +<p>But, of course, we know that the invaders will not come yet. Meanwhile +much can be learnt without arms (<i>cf.</i> "Infantry Training" <i>passim</i>—a +book we all carry in our pockets), and we have the promise of enough +rifles for a company in three weeks. When the last lot of German +prisoners begins to land we shall be ready for them.</p> + +<p>We get plenty of encouragement; indeed we feel that the authorities have +a special eye upon us. To give an example. We paraded the other night +and were inspected by a General—tut-tut, a couple of Generals. One of +them addressed us afterwards and gave us to understand that, having seen +the flower of the Continental armies at work, he was, even so, hardly +prepared for the extraordinary—and so on; which made James throw out +his lower chest a couple of inches further than usual. Whereupon the +Admiralty airship hurried up and, flying slowly over us, inspected us +from the top. I say nothing of what James must have looked like from the +top; what I say is that not many battalions are inspected by two +Generals and an airship simultaneously. We are grateful to the +authorities.</p> + +<p>Just at present our fault is over-keenness. On our first Sunday in camp +our company commander stood us to attention and asked for three +volunteers—for some unnamed forlorn hope. The whole company advanced<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +two paces. He took the first three in the first platoon and handed them +over to a sergeant. They were marched off on their perilous mission with +nine men from other companies. The dauntless twelve. We that were left +behind composed explanations to our wives, making it quite clear that we +had volunteered, but pointing out that, as only twelve could go, they +had probably chosen the ugliest ones first. Our three heroes rejoined us +during an "easy" an hour later. The forlorn hope, had been to dig a hole +and bury all the unused fragments of last night's supper—the gristly +bits.... And now, when three volunteers are called for, the whole +company remains rooted to attention. It is our keenness again; we are +here to drill; to form fours, to march, to wheel; we want to learn to be +soldiers, not dustmen.</p> + +<p>But naturally we differ in our ideas upon the best way to +learn—particularly in regard to night-work. What James says is, "Why be +uncomfortable in camp? If I could do anything for my country between the +hours of 10.30 <span class="sc">P.M.</span> and 5.30 <span class="sc">A.M.</span>, I would do it gladly. But if my +country, speaking through the gentleman who commands my platoon, tells +me to retire to my tent with the fourteen loudest-breathers in +Middlesex, I may at least <i>try</i> to get a little bit of sleep." So he +brings with him two air-cushions, a pillow, three blankets and a pair of +bed-socks, and does his best. On the other hand, John says, "When one is +on active service one has to sleep anywhere. Unless I am preparing for +that moment, what am I here for at all?" So he disdains the use of +straw, selects the hardest brick he can find for his head, and wraps +himself up in a single coat. And I doubt if he sleeps worse than James. +personally, i lie awake all night listeningto the snores of the others +and envying them their repose ... and I find that they all say they have +been doing the same.</p> + +<p>It was James, by the way, who created such a sensation the first time he +appeared on parade with all his impedimenta. There was a shout of +laughter from the company—and then a quiet voice behind me said +reflectively, "He decided <i>not</i> to bring the parrot."</p> + +<p class="author">A. A. M.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"There is a story here of a reservist, arriving from the provinces, +who saw on the Nevsky a brilliantly lighted picture palace, and +took off his hat before it and crossed himself devoutly. The point +of that story is that the man, when pointed out to me on the +parade-ground, was working in rubber gloves upon the installation +of field wireless apparatus."—<i>Daily Chronicle.</i> </p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Ha-ha! (Yes, just for a moment it escaped us). <i>Ha-ha!</i> <span class="sc">Ha-ha-ha</span>!</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>VALHALLA.</h2> + +<center>(<i>A vision and a protest.</i>)</center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I saw in the night unbroken,</p> +<p class="i2">In the land the daylight shuns,</p> +<p class="i0">At their long tables oaken</p> +<p class="i2">The Sea-kings and the Huns.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Strong arms had they for smiting,</p> +<p class="i2">To them death only gave</p> +<p class="i0">More feasting and more fighting,</p> +<p class="i2">More plunder for the brave.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Scant use had they for pleaders,</p> +<p class="i2">They boasted of their war,</p> +<p class="i0">The pitiless bright-eyed leaders,</p> +<p class="i2">And their battle-god was Thor.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And "When this right hand falters,"</p> +<p class="i2">Quoth one, "the soul is fled;"</p> +<p class="i0">"And I made so many altars</p> +<p class="i2">Ruinous," this one said.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And lo! as they sat and vaunted</p> +<p class="i2">Across the mist of the years,</p> +<p class="i0">There came to them one that flaunted</p> +<p class="i2">The helm of the war-god's peers.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">A little shape and a mightless,</p> +<p class="i2">And the strong men laughed and roared:</p> +<p class="i0">"Is our father Odin sightless</p> +<p class="i2">That bade <i>him</i> share the board?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"From what realms spoilt and plundered,</p> +<p class="i2">From what shrines burnt art come?</p> +<p class="i0">Has thine hand hewed and thundered</p> +<p class="i2">On the crosses of Christendom?"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And he said, "I too had legions,</p> +<p class="i2">I fouled where ye defiled,</p> +<p class="i0">I trod in the selfsame regions</p> +<p class="i2">And warred on woman and child.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Tricked out in my shining armour</p> +<p class="i2">And riding behind my Huns,</p> +<p class="i0">I harried the priest and farmer,</p> +<p class="i2">I followed the smoking guns."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">But the kings cried out and shouted</p> +<p class="i2">As they drained the sweetened mead:</p> +<p class="i0">"Was it thus that the Franks were routed,</p> +<p class="i2">When we made Europe bleed?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"This king with a leaden rattle</p> +<p class="i2">And death that comes from afar,</p> +<p class="i0">What pride hath he of the battle?</p> +<p class="i2">What lust to maim or mar?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"The loot and the red blood running</p> +<p class="i2">Were the only signs we saw;</p> +<p class="i0">But the gods that gave thee cunning</p> +<p class="i2">Have also given thee law."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And a Northman spake: "With seven</p> +<p class="i2">Fair churches when I died</p> +<p class="i0">I had paved my path to heaven;</p> +<p class="i2">Their pillage was my pride.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"I tore the saints from their niches</p> +<p class="i2">With the red hands of my rage;"</p> +<p class="i0">But what hast thou in thy ditches</p> +<p class="i2">To do with a craftless age?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Thou hast felt no Viking's starkness;</p> +<p class="i2">Thou hast lost a Christian's throne."</p> +<p class="i0">And they drove him forth in the darkness</p> +<p class="i2">To find a place of his own.</p> +</div></div> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Evoe.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE SILENCE OF WAR.</h2> + +<p>I have a confession to make. Once in the happy far-off days—it seems +ages since—I was bored by my fellow-passengers' conversation in the +train. I daresay that they were equally bored by mine; but against that +view there is the fact that this is my confession and not theirs. Well, +I am punished now. I admit that I would give a good deal to hear +Griffith's story of how he did the dog-leg hole in three again. There +sits Griffith opposite to me, and no one would know that he had ever +handled a club. He has become a golf-mute.</p> + +<p>Or think of Purvis. The recital of the performances of Purvis's new car +lent an additional terror to railway travelling. I have forgotten the +very make of his car now. I cannot particularise the number of its +cylinders or say if it is electrically started. Purvis is +conversationally punctured.</p> + +<p>There was, too, one recalls, an Insurance Act. Wilson felt a special +grievance because he employed an aged gardener, out of charity, two days +a week. He talked, if I remember correctly, about a cruel fourpence and +a mythical ninepence. He read fierce letters he had composed for the +Press, and when the papers published them, which was seldom, he read +them to us all over again. As an anti-insurance agitator Wilson now +comes under the unemployment section of the accursed Act.</p> + +<p>And the strange people who intruded with third-class tickets, and +trampled on our toes, and smoked shag, and talked repulsively about the +Cockspurs and Chelsea's new purchase from Oldham Athletic, and gave each +other "dead certs" of appalling incertitude, and passed remarks which to +my mind showed a shocking lack of respect for the upper and middle +classes! We were not one class in those times.</p> + +<p>May it all come back to us soon—all the old chatter! Come back to us, +Sir <span class="sc">Thomas Lipton</span> and the Cup! Come back to us, <span class="sc">Gloomy Dean</span>! Come back +to us, Ninepence for Fourpence. Come back to us, "dead certs" and "also +rans." Come back golf and motor-cars. Come back, Wicked Government and +Wicked Opposition. Life is too painfully interesting now. I long to be +bored again.</p> + +<p>But it must be boredom with honour.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/277.png"> +<img src="images/277.png" width="100%" alt=" I do hope this war won't be over" /></a> +<p><i>Mabel.</i> "<span class="sc">Mother, dear! I do hope this war won't be over +before I finish my sock!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>MR. PUNCH'S WAR CORRESPONDENCE.</h2> + +<center><span class="sc">New Style.</span></center> + +<p>Hearing that the German troops were advancing from the North-East along +the line Malines—Mons—Mezières—Soissons—Verdun—Belfort, I +immediately made off due South-West for a reason I may not give. I +managed with the utmost difficulty to find someone to carry my kit, but +at length persuaded an old peasant whom I found weeding (probably the +last weeds he would ever dig) to act as my courier, and even then I had +to resort to the vulgar strategy of pretending to be a Uhlan.</p> + +<p>We joined the throng boarding an old motor-bus (6½ h.p.). There was +nothing to show to outward appearance that the dreaded Germans were +within 250 miles of the little townlet where I found myself (name +suppressed). After booking my room at the only decent hotel in the +place, I cast about for something to eat. Alas, the only eatables were +roast duck and apple tart (the last probably we should ever see). I then +unpacked my kit, and after folding my riding breeches I placed them +under the mattress, wondering when I should take them out again. It is +curious how even the simplest necessities of life mechanically assert +themselves in the midst of the most strenuous and adventurous +circumstances.</p> + +<p>Troops, troops, troops, and yet again troops. And people still go on +living their daily lives. I saw two men seated in a <i>café</i> playing +draughts, and they quarrelled over a move as though they had never heard +tell of the <span class="sc">Kaiser.</span> Such is <i>la guerre</i>. I am rapidly polishing up my +French which I learnt at ——, how many years ago I may not say.</p> + +<p>We know little of the German plans, and that much it is useless for me +to communicate as the Censor is stopping all news of any interest. But +this we do know here in our little town of ——that the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> will +undoubtedly defeat the English armies if he can. To-day I saw an officer +who had been sent back to count the milk-cans on a large dairy-farm +(probably the last cans he would ever count); as he clattered down the +road, mounted on his charger, I stepped in front of him and held up my +hand, in which was a recent copy of <i>The Daily Cry and Echo</i>. The +officer with difficulty stopped, as his horse reared on seeing the paper +in my hand. I then asked him where he would advise me to go, as I wanted +to be where the fire was hottest. He at once told me to go to (name +withheld). I often think of that gay young officer and wonder what he is +doing.</p> + +<p>To-night I sat up late (how late we used to sit up in London!) sewing a +button on my (word excised) and darning one of the legs. I am now +dashing this off to catch the morning post (probably the last post that +will ever leave for England). I could not sleep for thinking that in a +few days' time I may hear the boom-boom-boom of the German 17.44 guns, +the sound of which has been likened to a puppy yelping. Such is war.</p> + +<p>I hope later on to send an important document dealing with the +dispositions of the various armies engaged. I have been fortunate enough +to get a glimpse of plans not more than a month old which a Colonel of +Howitzers carelessly left in the pocket of his bathing-suit.</p> + +<hr /><br /> + +<h5>"<span class="sc">Hot Pursuit.<br /> +British Press on Heels of Enemy.</span>"</h5> + +<p class="author"><i>People.</i></p> + +<p>At last the British Press is getting to the front.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>We are officially informed that, when every cat and dog in the German +Empire has been enrolled and armed, each cat will be allowed to provide +its own kit.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>"Physically, Mr. Owen is a fine type, and his height is almost +double that of the originator of the Welsh Army Corps—the +Chancellor of the Exchequer.—<i>Western Mail.</i>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>If we allow Mr. <span class="sc">Owen</span> a generous 8 feet, this would make Mr. <span class="sc">Lloyd George</span> +about 4 ft. 2 in. He <i>must</i> be taller than that.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p><hr /> + +<h2>THE CHOICE.</h2> + +<p>The scene was Maida Vale—in the home of Julius Blumenbach, an +Englishman of one generation.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear," said Mr. Blumenbach on his return from his office, "it +won't do. The time has come to take the plunge. We have often talked +about it, but now we must act. Only this morning I received five letters +closing the account—all because of the name."</p> + +<p>"You know I have urged it on you often enough," said Mrs. Blumenbach. +"And not only have I thought it necessary, but my relatives have urged +it too."</p> + +<p>Mr. Blumenbach repressed a gesture of impatience. "I know, I know," he +said. "Well, we must do it. <i>The Times</i> has a dozen notices of changed +names every day."</p> + +<p>"The question is what shall the new one be?" his wife replied. "We must +remember it's not only for ourselves and the business, but it will be so +much better for the boys, too, when they go to Eton. A good name—but +what?"</p> + +<p>"That's it," said Mr. Blumenbach. "That's the difficulty. Now I've got a +little list here. I have been jotting down names that took my fancy for +some time past. Of course there are many people who merely translate +their German names, but I think we ought to go farther than that. We +ought to be thorough while we are about it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and let us be very careful," said Mrs. Blumenbach. "It's a great +responsibility—a critical moment. It's almost as critical as—for a +woman—marriage. Let us take a really nice name."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said her husband. "That goes without saying."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she continued, "but a name that goes well with 'Sir' or 'Lady.' +You never know, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't see, myself, that 'Sir Julius Blumenbach' would sound so bad," +said her husband; "I've heard worse."</p> + +<p>"But 'Sir Julius Kitchener,' for example, would sound better," said Mrs. +Blumenbach.</p> + +<p>Mr. Blumenbach started. "You don't really suggest—" he began.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," she replied. "But I want you to see that while we're +about it we may as well be thorough. If at the present moment we have a +name which is disliked here, how much wiser, when taking another, to +choose one which is popular!"</p> + +<p>"True," Mr. Blumenbach said. "But 'Kitchener.' Isn't that——"</p> + +<p>"Too far? Perhaps so," said his wife. "Then what about 'French'?"</p> + +<p>"A little too short," said her husband. "I favour three syllables."</p> + +<p>"Then 'Smith-Dorrien'?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, let's be shy of hyphens," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked. "I've always had rather a partiality for them. They're +very classy in England, too, as you would know if you were as English as +I am."</p> + +<p>"I am English!" said Mr. Blumenbach fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, but not quite so—— Still, let us pass that over. The point +is——"</p> + +<p>"No hyphens, anyway," said Mr. Blumenbach. "They're dangerous. They +carry too much family history. No, a straightforward plain name is best. +Like, say, 'Macdonald.'"</p> + +<p>"Scotch?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, why not?"</p> + +<p>"I hadn't been thinking that way," said Mrs. Blumenbach, "but I +agree—why not 'Sir Julius Macdonald'? Yes, that's all right."</p> + +<p>"Or 'Mackenzie'?" said Mr. Blumenbach, consulting his list.</p> + +<p>"I prefer 'Macdonald.'"</p> + +<p>"Or 'Macintosh'?"</p> + +<p>"No, no."</p> + +<p>"Or 'Abercrombie'?"</p> + +<p>"Too long."</p> + +<p>"'Lauder'?"</p> + +<p>"No, I think not."</p> + +<p>"He's very popular."</p> + +<p>"I know; but the music-hall? No," said Mrs. Blumenbach, taking up a pen, +"let it be Macdonald.'" She traced the name. "Good heavens!" she +exclaimed suddenly, dropping the pen and pushing away the paper with a +gesture of finality, "of course it can't be that."</p> + +<p>"Why ever not?" Mr. Blumenbach insisted.</p> + +<p>"Fancy you not knowing!" Mrs. Blumenbach replied. "You of all people! +Why, think of the linen and the silver—all the monograms. Everything +would have to be marked afresh. It must begin with B, of course."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Mr. Blumenbach, mopping his brow as the terrible truth +broke on him, "of course! What an idiot I have been! Of course it must +begin with B. The expense!"</p> + +<p>"But fancy you not thinking of that!" Mrs. Blumenbach insisted.</p> + +<p>"Yes, fancy. It's worry over the war. I'm not myself."</p> + +<p>"Poor dear! You can't be," said his wife. "Well, what shall we do now?"</p> + +<p>"It's all right," said Mr. Blumenbach. "I'll go to the British Museum to +look out the B's in the Edinburgh Directory."</p> + +<p>"Do, dear, do!" said his wife, and he hurried for his hat. "Just to +think of you not thinking of that!" she repeated, as he bade her +farewell.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed!" he replied. "But it's the war, I'm sure. I'm sure it's +the war."</p> + +<p>Later in the day he returned, a potential Sir Julius Bannockburn.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/278.png"> +<img src="images/278.png" width="100%" alt="Enthusiast, explaining the situation." /></a><br /><br /> +<p><i>Enthusiast</i> (<i>explaining the situation</i>). "<span class="sc">Let this 'ere +meat-axe be the Russians a-comin' in on the East; the carvin'-knife's +the Frenchies along 'ere; our boys is the mustard-pot; and 'ere's the +Germans—this 'ere plate o' tripe.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>Shakspeare Germanised.</h4> + +<blockquote>One touch of <span class="sc">Nietzsche</span> makes the whole world sin.</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<h2>SOUND AND FURY.</h2> + +<p>A double Dutch Agency circulates a report of a great patriotic concert +recently held in Berlin. The programme, which is printed on a mere scrap +of paper, was as follows:—</p> + +<center> +A<br /> +GRAND PRUSSIAN PATRIOTIC<br /> +CONCERT<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sc">In Aid of the German Government<br /> +War Fund</span><br /> +<br /> +Will be held in the<br /> +<span class="sc">Dismantled British Embassy</span>.<br /> +<br /></center> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<center> +<span class="sc">Programme.</span><br /> +<br /> +I.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sc">Selection</span>:<br /> +"Hail, Smiling Marne."<br /> +<i>Band of the Imperial Prussian Guard.</i><br /> +<br /> +II.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sc">Song</span>:<br /> +"Father, dear Father, come Home with<br /> +me now."<br /> +<i>Words and music by<br /> +the <span class="sc">German Crown Prince</span>.</i><br /> +<br /> +III.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sc">Banjo Recital</span>:<br /> +"The Sally of our Ally."<br /> +<i>Words and music by<br /> +the Emperor <span class="sc">Francis Joseph</span>.</i><br /> +<br /> +IV.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sc">Chorus</span>:<br /> +"Forty Years On."<br /> +<i>Setting arranged by<br /> +Count <span class="sc">Von Moltke</span> the Second.</i><br /> +<br /> +V.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sc">Song</span>:<br /> +"Oft in the Stilly Night."<br /> +<i>Words and music by<br /> +<span class="sc">Count Zeppelin</span>, composer of<br /> +"What does little Birdie say?"</i><br /> +<br /> +VI.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sc">Recital</span>:<br /> +"The Blue Carpathian Mountains."<br /> +<i>The Viennese Orchestra.</i><br /> +<br /> +VII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sc">Humorous Song</span>:<br /> +"The Bonny Bonny Banks."<br /> +<i>Arranged by<br /> +the Imperial Minister of Finance.</i><br /> +<br /> +VIII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sc">Song</span>:<br /> +"And Nobody cares for Me!"<br /> +<i>Respectfully dedicated to<br /> +the <span class="sc">German Emperor</span>.</i><br /> +<br /> +IX.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sc">Grand Patriotic Chorus</span> (in which<br /> +the audience is requested to join):<br /> +<br /> +"<span class="sc">Prussia Expects That Every Man<br /> +This Day Will Grab His Booty.</span>"<br /><br /> +</center> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/279.png"> +<img src="images/279.png" width="100%" alt="Dashed if I don't get +some more flags." /></a><br /><br /> +<p>"<span class="sc">Great Scott! I must do something. Dashed if I don't get +some more flags for the old jigger!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE STEEPLE.</h2> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">There's mist in the hollows,</p> +<p class="i2">There's gold on the tree,</p> +<p class="i0">And South go the swallows</p> +<p class="i2">Away over sea.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">They home in our steeple</p> +<p class="i2">That climbs in the wind,</p> +<p class="i0">And, parson and people,</p> +<p class="i2">We welcome 'em kind.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The steeple was set here</p> +<p class="i2">In 1266;</p> +<p class="i0">If <span class="sc">William</span> could get here</p> +<p class="i2">He'd burn it to sticks.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">He'd burn it for ever,</p> +<p class="i2">Bells, belfry and vane,</p> +<p class="i0">That swallows would never</p> +<p class="i2">Come home there again.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">He'd bang down their perches</p> +<p class="i2">With cannon and gun,</p> +<p class="i0">For churches is churches,</p> +<p class="i2">And <span class="sc">William's</span> a Hun.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">So—mist in the hollow</p> +<p class="i2">And leaf falling brown—</p> +<p class="i0">Ere home comes the swallow</p> +<p class="i2">May <span class="sc">William</span> be down!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And high stand the steeples</p> +<p class="i2">From Lincoln to Wells,</p> +<p class="i0">For parsons and peoples,</p> +<p class="i2">For birds and for bells!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"It makes things clearer, for example, if one knows that a howitzer +gun drops its shells, while an ordinary field gun fires them to all +intents and purposes vertically."</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author"><i>Weekly Dispatch.</i></p> + +<p>Much clearer.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/280.png"> +<img src="images/280.png" width="100%" alt="Oh, mummy, you must speak to baby:" /></a><br /><br /> +<p><i>Youthful Patriot.</i> "<span class="sc">Oh, mummy, you <i>must</i> speak to baby: +he's most awfully naughty. He won't let nurse take his vest off, and</span> +(<i>in an awe-struck voice</i>) <span class="sc">he keeps on screaming and yelling that <i>he +likes the Germans</i>! <i>Anybody</i> might hear him."</span></p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A WAR-HORSE OF THE KING.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I knew you in the first flight of the Quorn,</p> +<p class="i2">One who never turned his gallant head aside</p> +<p class="i0">From bank or ditch, from double rail or thorn,</p> +<p class="i2">Or from any brook however deep and wide;</p> +<p class="i0">I know the love your owner on you spent;</p> +<p class="i2">I know the price he put upon your speed;</p> +<p class="i0">And I know he gave you freely, well content,</p> +<p class="i2">When his country called upon him in her need.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I have seen you in the bondage of the camp</p> +<p class="i2">With a heel-rope on a pastern raw and red,</p> +<p class="i0">Up and fighting at the stable-picket's tramp</p> +<p class="i2">With the courage of the way that you were bred;</p> +<p class="i0">I have seen you standing, broken, in the rain,</p> +<p class="i2">Lone and fretting for a yesterday's caress;</p> +<p class="i0">I have seen your valour spur you up again</p> +<p class="i2">From the sorrow that your patient eyes express.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Now in dreams I see your squadron at the Front,</p> +<p class="i2">You a war-horse with a hero on your back,</p> +<p class="i0">Taking bugles for the horn-blast of the hunt,</p> +<p class="i2">Taking musketry for music of the pack;</p> +<p class="i0">Made and mannered to the pattern of the rest,</p> +<p class="i2">Gathered foam—and maybe blood—upon your rein,</p> +<p class="i0">You'll be up among the foremost and the best,</p> +<p class="i2">Or we'll never trust in Leicestershire again!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>IN A GOOD CAUSE.</h2> + +<p>War or no war, the children must have their Christmas presents, and they +wouldn't look at the usual toys made in Germany, even if they could be +had this year. The Women's Emergency Corps has the matter in hand. Some +fascinating models have been designed and registered, and many women who +were in need of work are engaged in copying them under skilled +direction. Funds are needed badly at the start, though the scheme will +eventually support itself. For the children's sake, and even more for +the sake of the women-breadwinners to whom the war has brought distress, +<i>Mr. Punch</i> begs his generous friends to help this work. Gifts should be +sent to The Duchess of Marlborough, Old Bedford College, 8, York Place, +Baker Street, W.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>IN MEMORY.</h4> + +<center><span class="sc">To those who Died in the Early Days of the War.</span></center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Not theirs to triumph yet; but, where they stood,</p> +<p class="i4">Falling, to dye the earth with brave men's blood</p> +<p class="i4">For England's sake and duty. Be their name</p> +<p class="i4">Sacred among us. Wouldst thou seek to frame</p> +<p class="i4">Their fitting epitaph? Then let it be</p> +<p class="i4">Simple, as that which marked Thermopylæ:—</p> +<p class="i4">"<i>Tell it in England, thou that passest by,</i></p> +<p class="i4"><i>Here faithful to their charge her soldiers lie.</i>"</p> +</div></div><br /> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/281.png"> +<img src="images/281.png" width="100%" alt="THE GREAT GOTH." /></a> +<h4>THE GREAT GOTH.</h4> +<p>DESIGN FOR A STAINED-GLASS WINDOW IN A NEO-GOTHIC CATHEDRAL AT POTSDAM.</p> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/283.png"> +<img src="images/283.png" width="100%" alt="Newly-gazetted Subaltern." /></a><br /><br /> +<p><i>Newly-gazetted Subaltern.</i> "<span class="sc">Girls! girls! you really +mustn't crowd round me like this. I've missed two salutes already.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR DUMB ENEMIES.</h2> + +<p>Although the German army already owes much of its efficiency to useful +hints garnered from the animal kingdom—such as the goose-step, which +has been employed with such conspicuous success in the streets of +Brussels—we were hardly prepared for the far-reaching mobilisation of +the more familiar mammals which is now foreshadowed. It is true that we +had already been much impressed by the <span class="sc">Kaiser's</span> threat to continue the +war to the last breath of man and horse, but it is none the less +startling to learn, on American authority, that the German Government +would, at a pinch, be prepared to arm every cat and dog in the Empire. +It will thus be open to the future historian to speak of "the cats of +war."</p> + +<p>There is another branch of the community which should not be +overlooked—if the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> is willing to take a suggestion—in the form +of the domestic cattle of the Fatherland. These, we believe, are +admirably adapted to attack in close formation upon entrenched +positions. And much might be done with the rats from the cellars of +Munich—than which no finer natural warriors exist.</p> + +<p>But the new menace must be met. Fortunately, if zoological warfare is to +become an accomplished fact, the British Empire has great untapped +resources. It is rumoured that a Camel Corps has been despatched from +India already, and a squadron of elephants should be a match for a whole +Army Corps of dachshunds.</p> + +<p>On the whole we welcome the new departure. It may lead—who knows?—to +the establishment of a higher standard in German civilized warfare.</p> + +<p>An interesting light has been thrown on this new mobilisation by a +letter concealed in the whiskers of the captured mascot (a +Tortoiseshell) of a Bavarian regiment. It runs as follows:—</p> + +<p class="regards">Potsdam.</p> +<p class="author">(Can't divulge address.)</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Gretchen</span>,—Awful bad luck for poor Schneider. He went to enlist and +was told to register! Of course he's got a streak of the Persian in him +on his mother's side, and used to brag about it, as we all know; but now +it's done him in the eye, and he's fairly mad. Carl is in the +commissariat and tells me we've got three million tins of sardines; so +that's all right as far as it goes; but, if there's any weakness in the +victualling department, I shall be the first to leave the colours.</p> + +<p>They're making one huge mistake. The dogs are called out too. You know +what German dogs are—sausage-food, we call them. Of course they'll be +cut up and give the show away. But, if they're in the first line with us +behind them, they'll have to fight somebody.</p> + +<p>Albrecht is in the Royal Blacks (Empress's own). Max has joined the 3rd +Tabbies, and I've got a command in the 10th Tortoiseshells.</p> + +<p class="regards">Your one and only</p> +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Puss in Prussians</span>.</p> + +<p>P.S.—It's a joke with the Tabby regiments that they've got their +stripes already.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"Ste. Menehould is 32 miles due west of Verdun. Montfaucon is 18 +miles north-east of Ste. Menehould and a dozen miles north-west of +Verdun."—<i>Manchester Guardian.</i> </p></blockquote> + +<blockquote><p>The War has changed many things; among them the triangle's old habit of +having two of its sides together greater than the third. But there; +"necessity," as the <span class="sc">Imperial Chancellor</span> says, "knows no law."</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/284.png"> +<img src="images/284.png" width="100%" alt="Humorist to Cinema Commissionaire." /></a><br /><br /> +<p><i>Humorist (to Cinema Commissionaire).</i> "<span class="sc">Now ven, Wilhelm, +give us one or two goose-steps!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE WATCH DOGS.</h2> + +<center>IV.</center> + +<p>Dear Charles,—Half-a-dozen officers of <i>the</i> battalion, including your +own pet terrier, have got cut off from the main body, but are all alive +and well, as you shall hear. We have come down from our war to our peace +station in order to gather together the few hundred recruits who have +been enrolled to bring up the brigade to its proper establishment, and +fill the places of those luckless fellows whose flesh was too weak for +Imperial service, however willing their spirit might have been. I must +say I was more sorry for the "medically unfit" than I have ever been for +anyone in this hard world, when we took affectionate leave of them.</p> + +<p>The recruit is an excellent fellow, whose only fault is that he didn't +start before. Now and then he is a plutocrat, as I have found to my +cost. It was my first job to prearrange the lodging of two hundred of +them in their temporary billet, an unoccupied mansion originally +designed to house twenty persons at the outside. There was an overflow, +as you may imagine, which had to be lodged in the outhouses. The garage +I marked out for twenty-five, leaving it to themselves to decide whether +or not the inspection-pit was the place of honour reserved for the +N.C.O. in charge. Other business prevented my receiving them at the +front gate and conducting them to their several rooms. When I did arrive +on the scene it was my heartrending duty to explain to Privates +Anstruther and Vernon that the reason why they couldn't find their +bedroom was because they had filled it with their motor-cars. But it is +wonderful how people can settle down to anything; an hour later I found +the twenty-five of them comfortably tucked in for the night, crooning +unanimously, "There's no place like home!" To-day they have chalked up +on the wall, "The Ritz Private Boarding Establishment; well-aired beds; +bring your own straw. Excellent cuisine. <i>No</i> garage."</p> + +<p>This is the sort of remark which, as you go the rounds of the mess +tables, you have to pretend you have not heard: "The officer wants to +know if you have all got plenty of potatoes. Every man stand up and say +'I have';" and, to demonstrate the <i>camaraderie</i> which exists in the +hard circumstances of military life, "George, lend me your slice of +bacon to clean my knife with." The most moving reply I have personally +received came from one of the less-educated section. I asked to what +company he was attached, and he didn't know. "Who is your captain?" I +said. "'Im with the scuppered 'at," was the descriptive reply. Captain +Herne has since lectured his gang on the rudiments of military +discipline, first, however, replenishing his neglected equipment.</p> + +<p>And now let us turn from the domestic aspect to the infantry training, +and let me tell you all about outposts, their duty and their manner of +performing it. Outpost companies, it must be remembered, do their work +at night. I don't know, Charles, whether you have ever sat under a hedge +for hours on end in the dark, waiting the approach of the enemy. It must +be bad enough in real warfare, where there is a chance of his turning +up; but in practice it is worse, for there is the certainty that he +<i>must</i> turn up. He left the camp an hour before you did yourself, and, +if he does succeed in getting through your lines, he'll never let you +hear the last of it.</p> + +<p>Now you must remember that my fellows had spent many weary days "sloping +arms," only to unslope them again almost immediately, and in other +sufficiently bloodless pursuits. They are naturally of a pugilistic +breed, and the attacking party comprised old-time opponents. Constant +efforts to keep a watch in the dark are trying to the nerves, and when +something substantial does emerge which one may get a grip on ... what +use is it for an officer to say that no violence is required and enough +is done for present purposes if the enemy is successfully observed and +quietly apprehended? The first enemy to approach turned out, on arrest, +to be just an innocuous cow; but this disappointment served only to make +the aspect of my men even more menacing. The next arrival was a hapless +scout of the attacking party: he had come to surprise, but was himself +violently surprised. What advice and exhortations I had to give were +lost in the hubbub. "Put up your fists, chaps, and let him have it!" was +the order, which was obeyed. The necessity for silence was forgotten; +here was something upon which to wreak all the pent-up feelings +consequent upon a month's perusal of German atrocities. It was +excusable, if unsporting, for the scout to bite the thumb of his nearest +assailant—and a good thorough bite it was. It fell to my lot later to +dress the wound; as I did so the casualty explained to me fully and +often the exact circumstances of the case. But he was not angry about +it; far from it. With an expression of feature combining interested +enquiry with perfect readiness to accept whatever might be in the proper +order of infantry training, he said, "And then 'e bit me thumb, Sir. Was +that right?"</p> + +<p>D'Arcy and I had an awkward moment the other day. We turned into a +wayside golf club in an emergency, and begged to be allowed to buy our +tea there. Even as we did so the Secretary himself arrived in a motor +car, which, as we were not aware, had but a little while ago overtaken +Major Danks and the half battalion under his charge. Even the Secretary +himself, accustomed to ignore foot-passengers, did not appreciate that +he had roused the Major's wrath by the haste of his overtaking. The +Secretary was, to us, politeness itself—nay more, he insisted upon our +being the guests of the club not only on that occasion but on every +available opportunity. Other members gathered round and endorsed his +view. We returned thanks in brief and soldierly speeches. There were, by +way of reply, votes of confidence, and, in rejoinder, expressions of +reciprocated esteem. The invitation was extended to every officer in the +battalion, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285.png" id="Page_285.png">[Pg 285.]</a></span> +then we withdrew to the wash-house to prepare to +receive hospitality. Hardly had we departed when the Major arrived, and +we returned from our ablutions, if not into the open, at least +sufficiently near to hear him reprimanding the Secretary in the most +violent terms, threatening arrest to the miscreant chauffeur, and, +indeed, the annihilation of the whole clubhouse and links, and every +man, woman and child in or about them. Old man, I have never less +enjoyed a meal at others' expense than I did the tea which followed.</p> + +<p>Acting temporarily as Quarter-Master I went to the butcher's to-day. "A +nice morning, Sir," said he. What could he do for me? "What about some +beef?" said I. "About ten pounds?" he suggested. "Nearer two hundred," I +replied.... "Good day," he concluded, as he bowed me out of the shop. "A +<i>very</i> nice morning, Sir."</p> + +<p>I'll tell you my opinion of these soldiers, Charles, amateur or +professional. Feed them like princes and pamper them like babies, and +they'll complain all the time. But stand them up to be shot at and +they'll take it as a joke, and rather a good joke, too.</p> + +<p class="regards">Yours ever,</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Henry</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/285.png"> +<img src="images/285.png" width="100%" alt="Playground of sand in a London park." /></a><br /><br /> +<p><i>Scene: Playground of sand in a London park.</i></p> +<p><i>Kind-hearted Old Lady.</i> "<span class="sc">That little boy looks very lonely. Why don't +you ask him to play with you?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Little Girl.</i> "<span class="sc">Ow, don't take no notice of 'im, lidy. 'E's swankin' +'cos 'e's bin to the seaside.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ONE OF THE SECRETS OF RUSSIAN SUCCESS.</h2> + +<center>(<i>By our Military Expert.</i>)</center> + +<p>The brief statement from Headquarters at Petrograd that on the +South-West front Wszlmysl has fallen and that the pursuit of the +Austrians has reached Mlprknik has a significance that may easily be +overlooked by those who are unfamiliar with the topography of the +district and its pronunciation. Wszlmysl (pronounce Wozzle-mizzle) is a +large fortified town in the district of Mprzt (pronounce Ha-djisha), at +the junction of the rivers Ug (pronounce Oogh) and Odzwl (pronounce +Odol), about ten miles to the N.E. of Ploschkin (pronounce as written), +with which it is connected by an electric tramway. The information +available shows that the garrison of Wszlmysl (pronounce Woolloomoolloo) +deserted their guns and retreated in haste with the Russians in hot +pursuit. Now, inasmuch as this fortress has been pronounced by the +Russian expert, Colonel Shumsky (pronounce Sch-tchoomsky), to be +stronger than either Namur or Liége, the precipitate retirement of the +Austrians can only be accounted for by a complete breakdown of <i>moral</i>.</p> + +<p>The cause of this breakdown may escape most observers, but it is in +reality simple enough. It has long been known that the Austrians have +found themselves terribly handicapped by their inability to deal +faithfully with the consonantal difficulties presented by the names of +towns and districts in which the ethnic basis is Slav and not Teutonic. +Quite recently, on the capture of the town of Prtnkévichsvtntchiskow +(unpronounceable, and only to be approximately rendered with the +assistance of a powerful Claxon horn), the garrison were found to be in +a deplorable condition of aphasia and suffering from chronic laryngitis. +We have therefore the best grounds for believing that a similar cause +operated in the case of the Austrian defenders of Wszlmysl. They fled +because they were unable to cope with the vocal exigencies of the +situation.</p> + +<p>To sum up, we have in our Eastern ally a nation not only great in +numbers, in warlike prowess, and in enthusiasm for their cause, but also +fortified by the possession of a language so rich in phonetic variety +and so formidable in consonantal concentration as to strike terror into +opponents of lesser linguistic capacity.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> + +<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2> + +<center><span class="sc">Those who Sit in Judgment.</span>"</center> + +<p>In days of great national tension the public needs some coaxing to be +got into the theatre at all. Our managers should either, at the risk of +appearing callous, offer us a pure distraction from the strain of things +or else provide something in harmony with the emotions of the time. But +frankly I cannot find in the programme at the St. James's any apparent +sign of consideration for present conditions. It is true that it +supplies excellent entertainment for Mr. <span class="sc">George Alexander</span>, who has +plenty of occupation in a part that suits him well. But I was thinking, +selfishly enough, of my own needs and those of other non-combatants.</p> + +<p>I admit that the scene in West Africa was a diverting novelty. I had +never before, to my recollection, met a native monarch from the Gold +Coast, and I have pleasure in accepting the assurance of Mr. <span class="sc">Crowther</span>, +Secretary for Native Affairs in this district, that they are like that. +But it was impossible to feel any very deep concern as to what might +happen to the damaged hero (<i>Michael Trent</i>) on his return to England +after the failure of his rubber schemes. The best he could hope for, by +way of consolation for being misunderstood, was to become a +co-respondent in a suit brought by the chief sitter-in-judgment. Even so +we might have contrived a little sympathy if the woman's fifth-rate +environment had not made any community of tastes hopelessly improbable. +For her, too, it seemed to us a poor business that the only +encouragement she could offer him in the undeserved ruin of his career +was to get it blasted all over again—and this time on a true charge—by +running away with him.</p> + +<p>But the rubber-man in the play was never a hero. There in his Gold Coast +shanty we see his lover's young brother dying of fever under his eyes. +Yet from the moment when he himself gets a touch of the same complaint +he takes to brandy, and practically loses all further interest—at any +rate of a coherent kind—in the fate of his <i>protégé</i>. And at the +end—though he seems to take a good deal of personal pride in the +prospect—the only heroism that lies before him is the living-down of a +sordid scandal in the divorce-court.</p> + +<p>As <i>Michael Trent</i>, Mr. <span class="sc">George Alexander</span> played excellently, and I have +nothing to say against either the quality or the quantity of his work, +except that in the First Act the tale of his experience in the Beresu +forest, which began with a very natural air, developed into something +like a recitation. He might almost have been Mr. <span class="sc">Roosevelt</span>, in a mood of +exaltation, describing his river to the Geographical Society. That +clever actress, Miss <span class="sc">Henrietta Watson</span>, had to play a difficult part as +<i>Trent's</i> lover, in a vein that, I think, is new to her. She did it +well, though she seemed to start on a note of intensity which left her +too little margin for the time when she really needed it; her appeal, +too, was rather to our intelligence than our hearts. Mr. <span class="sc">Nigel Playfair</span>, +waiving his gift of deliberate humour, showed himself a master of the +petty meannesses of a certain phase of suburban banality. Mr. <span class="sc">Volpé</span> +presided, with the right rotundity of a rubber company's chairman, over +a very spirited meeting of indignant share-holders. And, finally, +nothing became Mr. <span class="sc">Reginald Owen</span> so well as the manner of his dying.</p> + +<p class="author">O. S.</p> + +<hr class="short" /><br /><br /> + +<center>"<span class="sc">Young Wisdom.</span>"</center> + +<p><i>Victoria</i> was very young and very, very wise. She knew all about the +slavery of the marriage-tie, the liberty of the female subject, and +high-sounding things of that sort, and kept books of advanced thinking +secretly under her mattress—where her little brother found them and +thought them dull, and her mother found them and thought them rather +funny. <i>Victoria's</i> theory was that all marriages ought to be preceded +by a trial trip, but it was her sister <i>Gail</i> who had the pluck to put +this theory into practice. She insisted on her young man, <i>Peter</i>, +eloping with her on the night before their wedding. <i>Peter</i>, a simple +gentleman with a mouth permanently open, was reluctantly persuaded. +Whereupon <i>Christopher</i>, the best man, engaged to <i>Victoria</i>, insisted +upon <i>Victoria</i> also living up to her theory and eloping without +clerical assistance—which she did almost as unwillingly as <i>Peter</i>. The +two couples meet at midnight in an old moorland cottage rented by an +artist called <i>Max</i> (no, not the one you think), whereupon two important +things happen:—</p> + +<p>(1) <i>Gail</i> decides in about twenty minutes that she loves <i>Max</i>, not +<i>Peter</i>. (2) <i>Victoria</i> decides that she hates trial trips. So they all +five go back together, and, after a lot of +"Tut-tut-what-the-blank-upon-my-souls" from the military stage-father, +they sort themselves out again and get married properly—<i>Peter</i> being +left over with a cold in the head.</p> + +<p>The author, Miss <span class="sc">Rachel Crothers</span>, has not strained herself severely in +writing <i>Young Wisdom</i>, and the result is a pleasantly innocent little +play, which, thanks to the Misses <span class="sc">Margery Maude</span> and <span class="sc">Madge Titheradge</span> as +the two sisters, and Mr. <span class="sc">John Deverell</span> as <i>Peter</i>, gave us all a good +deal of pleasure. Miss <span class="sc">Maude</span> had a part with a little comedy in it for +once, and she played it delightfully.</p> + +<p class="author">M.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>MEDITATIONS ON MUSHROOMS.</h2> + +<p>We were playing the ancient and honourable game of acrostics and we had +to think of and describe a word bounded on the West by the initial E, +and on the East by the final H.</p> + +<p>"That which you can never have of mushrooms," was one of the +descriptions. It was, of course, guessed at once—"Enough;" and could +there be a truer compliment to this strange exotic delicacy, which costs +nothing but a walk in an early autumnal morning and is more choice than +the rarest flavours ever designed by the most inspired of <i>chefs</i>? For +certainly there has never been enough of them. I, at any rate, have +never had enough. The thought of mushrooms missed must add pathos to +many a death-bed.</p> + +<p>It is a terrible moment when the dish comes in and one rapidly notes the +disparity between the paucity of its contents and the vast and eager +anticipation of the company. For it is useless to attempt to conceal +greed when mushrooms arrive. A certain amount of dissimulation has +mercifully been given by a wise Providence to all of us for the +lubrication of the cogs of daily life; but it does not extend so far as +this. And particularly so if the mushrooms have been fried in butter. +Stewed they are not of course to be undervalued, especially if one dares +to soak one's bread in the juice; nor even reposing in tragic isolation +on Juan Fernandezes of toast; but the real way is to fry them in butter. +As I say, it is a terrible moment when the dish arrives and the faces of +the guests are studied; but should there be one present, or—more +ecstatic moment still—two, who confess to a dislike of this perilous +fungus, then what an access of rapture by way of compensation! Truly +wise hostesses have been known to murmur something about toadstools and +risk, as an encouragement to the doubters; or if they don't their +husbands do. It is however no real good! Even with two defaulters the +dish does no more than stimulate desire; whilst such is its power of +fascination that consummate <i>gourmets</i> have been known to express no +dismay at the possibility of poison being there, a death so won being +worth dying.</p> + +<p>Mushrooms, to win such homage as this, must be picked in the fields and +cooked at home. The forced mushrooms which grow under the shelf in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> the +greenhouse or in a corner of the cellar lack something of divinity; +while there is not a restaurant <i>chef</i> in the world who has not a long +record of ruined mushrooms to his name. No sooner does a public cook get +at a mushroom than it begins to deteriorate. When the <i>chef</i> comes in at +the door the savour flies out of the window. It is a point of honour +with him. When therefore I said that one can never have enough mushrooms +I meant at home.</p> + +<p>It is an injustice to the mushroom to eat it as an adjunct to other +food; while there is one meat which in alliance it renders unwholesome. +The odd thing is that every one differs as to what this meat is; but my +own hazy recollection says mutton. Still that prohibition is not for us, +who know the only way in which mushrooms should be eaten: fried, with +bread and butter, and the butter spread too thick.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote>It is rumoured that the freedom of Hunstanton is to be conferred on the +<span class="sc">Kaiser</span>.</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/287.png"> +<img src="images/287.png" width="100%" alt="THE BULL-DOG BREED." /></a> +<h5>THE BULL-DOG BREED.</h5> +<p><i>Officer.</i> "<span class="sc">Now, my lad, do you know what you are placed here for?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Recruit.</i> "<span class="sc">To prevent the henemy from landin', Sir.</span>"</p> +<p><i>Officer.</i> "<span class="sc">And do you think that you could prevent him landing all by +yourself?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Recruit.</i> "<span class="sc">Don't know, Sir, I'm sure. But I'd have a dam good try!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"BUSINESS AS USUAL."</h2> + +<p>Corkey is the School Attendance Officer and a terror to every boy in the +neighbourhood. He looks at the truant and says fiercely, "Where was +you?" Then he wags a savage finger at him. "Yes, you was," he says, "you +was, you know you was. I caught you in the hact." No boy has ever been +known to withstand him.</p> + +<p>Yet Corkey has a heart.</p> + +<p>William Frederick Wright is our chief boy scout. In the first great days +of the war, William was on duty at a railway bridge up the line. Local +fame placed him somewhere between <span class="sc">French</span> and <span class="sc">Kitchener</span>. Sent to round up +the truant, Corkey reported in glowing words, "<i>Guarding his country.</i>"</p> + +<p>A second week's absence produced the same report. Then business instinct +began to war with patriotism in the breast of Corkey. During the third +week he once more looked the culprit up.</p> + +<p>His report was grim and terse. "<i>Warned him</i>," he wrote.</p> + +<p>On the following Monday William sadly returned.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE AWAKENING.</h2> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Ere our lesson to the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">Self-anointed Lord of Earth,</p> +<p class="i0">Left that furious monarch wiser</p> +<p class="i2"><i>Re</i> our troops' intrinsic worth,</p> +<p class="i0">Frankly, I had thought you flighty,</p> +<p class="i2">Callous to the very core;</p> +<p class="i0">Lovely?—yes, like Aphrodite;</p> +<p class="i8">Nothing more.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Later, when you slaked your thirsting</p> +<p class="i2">For an apron, cuffs and cap,</p> +<p class="i0">Long before the war-cloud, bursting,</p> +<p class="i2">Made a mess of Europe's map,</p> +<p class="i0">Though your mind showed some improvement,</p> +<p class="i2">Lady, I conceived you had</p> +<p class="i0">Joined a purely social movement</p> +<p class="i8">For a fad.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Now the scales at length uplifted</p> +<p class="i2">From my eyes in you reveal,</p> +<p class="i0">Verily, a woman gifted</p> +<p class="i2">With the power to help and heal.</p> +<p class="i0">So I send, for shame, these verses</p> +<p class="i2">Where you brave the battle's brunt,</p> +<p class="i0">One of England's noble Nurses</p> +<p class="i8">At the front.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<center>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</center> + +<p>I always open a new book by <span class="sc">Gertrude Atherton</span> with a pleasant +grace-before-meat sensation of being already truly thankful for what I +am about to receive. And it is hardly ever that I am disappointed. I do +not mean to tell you that her latest story, which bears the attractive +title <i>Perch of the Devil</i> (<span class="sc">Murray</span>), will eclipse the record of all that +has gone before; but it need not do that to be well worth reading. It is +a tale of mining life, set against a background of claims and veins and +drifts and ores—things that I for one delight to read about because of +their infinite possibilities, the romance of the gamble that is in them. +There is plenty of this gamble in <i>Perch of the Devil</i> (the mountain +township where the miners lived). <i>Gregory Compton</i>, the hero, makes his +pile all right, and has some rare moments in doing it. He would have +been happier if he could have enjoyed prosperity, when it came, for its +own sake and for that of his pretty wife. But, though he bestowed upon +her all the luxuries that successful mining commands—frocks and cars +and European travel—it was another woman, <i>Ora</i>, who had his heart. And +unfortunately she was the wife of his partner. It is with this quartette +of characters that Mrs. <span class="sc">Atherton</span> works out her tale, an unusually small +cast for a story of 373 pages; but you will hardly need to be told with +what sympathetic and subtle skill she depicts them. Her art is, as +always, extraordinarily minute and close. The two women especially are +made to live before us with a great effect of actuality. She has wit, +too, of a dry, rather grim, kind. I liked her comparison of <i>Gregory's</i> +emotion on finding himself in love with <i>Ora</i> to that of a small boy +despising himself for a second attack of measles before he discovers the +later complaint to be scarlet fever. You must read this book.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>In no industrial survey of the present situation have I seen any +reliable estimate of the probable output of patriotic romance. Yet the +figures seem likely to be impressive. One of the earliest samples is +before me now. It is called <i>The Gate of England</i> (<span class="sc">Hodder and +Stoughton</span>), with the sub-title, <i>A Romance of the Days of Drake</i>, and is +in every way true to its admirable type. What I mean by this is that it +contains everything that you expect and are glad to find—a Virgin +Queen, imperious and quick of retort, with a generous eye for the claims +of gallantry; a hero who simply could not be more heroic; villains (of +Spanish name, priests, murderers, all a regular bad lot), and the right +proportion of female interest and humorous relief. Need I give you the +details? How the hero, Captain of the Queen's body-guard, saves Her +Majesty's life (a scene with a genuine thrill in it) and is rewarded by +her. How he goes in command of an expedition against Channel +freebooters, and finally ends up as an agent of the British Intelligence +Department, finding out things about the army of His Grace of Parma, +then at Dunkirk awaiting conveyance by the Spanish fleet. He seems, +however, to have been something of a failure in the way of intelligence, +as by lack of this the hero managed to get himself and his companion +imprisoned for spies (which indeed they were), and was only rescued by +the intervention of <span class="sc">Drake</span> as the god from the machine. A pleasant, if +undistinguished, tale that will be enjoyed by the young of all ages. It +is a minor point, but when one finds the hero called <i>Christopher +Stone</i>, and another character rejoicing in the name of <i>Gabriel Ray</i>, it +is hard to acquit the author of some poverty of invention. His own name +(I had almost forgotten to mention) is <span class="sc">Morice Gerard</span>; and he has done +better work.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>Pan-Germanism</i> (<span class="sc">Constable</span>) is a seasonable cheap reprint of a study of +that egregious creed by <span class="sc">Roland G. Usher</span>, an American Professor of +History. With an almost cynical candour and detachment the author +analyses the origins, assumptions, justifications and pretensions, and +foreshadows with some insight the miscalculations, of those who have +essayed to direct the destinies of modern Germany. It is as well that +this essay comes from a neutral pen; it would else be discredited as a +freak of prejudice. Pan-Germanism, as here seen, is the <i>reductio ad +absurdum</i> of the doctrine that all is fair in war—and peace. It is no +less than blank anarchy, philosophic and practical, and indefinitely +less workable as a theory of international life than that of the so long +discredited Sermon on the Mount. The honest Briton can find here solid +justification of his cause. Perhaps it is not altogether unwholesome +that our national withers don't entirely escape wringing. We are a +little guilty, but much less guilty than our arch-opponent; so thinks +this sober and wide-eyed critic.... Certainly, and the more +significantly since it is without direction or intention of the writer, +one sees behind all the tragedy of these dark weeks and of the long +months and years to come the sinister picture of a man of no more than +common earthly wisdom saddled with responsibilities that might well +break the nerve of a council of the gods. Is it well, if the matches +must be kept in the powder-magazine, to let the children in to play with +them?</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/288.png"> +<img src="images/288.png" width="100%" alt="the London public would feel more secure" /></a><br /><br /> +<p><span class="sc">Perhaps the London public would feel more secure if our +guardian airship were made in this pattern.</span></p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">That he will arm the German cat and dog</p> +<p class="i6">The <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> swears in language hot and heady;</p> +<p class="i4">He leaves the swine out of his catalogue</p> +<p class="i6">Because the swine, it seems, are armed already.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<h4>The Horrors of War.</h4> + +<blockquote><p>"Another German officer prays for a decisive engagement which will +put an end to bloody encounters. One evening he and his +fellow-officers had to share between themselves a meal prepared for +their men."—<i>Times.</i> </p></blockquote> + +<p>The records of the war have furnished many instances of physical +hardship, but none more terrible than this.</p> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 147, SEPTEMBER 30, 1914***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 27967-h.txt or 27967-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/9/6/27967">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/9/6/27967</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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