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diff --git a/28382-h/28382-h.htm b/28382-h/28382-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f4e1067 --- /dev/null +++ b/28382-h/28382-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3050 @@ +<!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, October 21, 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%;} + + 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: 75%; } + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, +October 21, 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, October 21, 1914 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: March 21, 2009 [EBook #28382] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OCTOBER 21, 1914 *** + + + + +Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Neville Allen, +Malcolm Farmer and the Online Distributed Proofreading +Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>VOLUME 147.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>OCTOBER 21, 1914.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/329.png"> +<img src="images/329.png" width="100%" alt="The following incident has been forwarded" /></a><br /><br /> +<p><i>The following incident has been forwarded by the Special Constable himself, but the Authorities will not permit the publication of +his actual portrait:—</i></p> +<p><i>Small Boy</i> (<i>suddenly noticing Special Constable</i>). "<span class="sc">Look Aht! Copper</span>!"</p> +<p><i>Girl.</i> "<span class="sc">Where</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Boy.</i> "<span class="sc">There—agin Fence</span>."</p> +<p><i>Girl</i>. "<span class="sc">Garn, Silly—frightenin' me</span>!"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p>"The King," says <i>The Manchester +Courier</i>, "has returned all his German +Orders." So much for the taunt that +Britain's object in taking part in the +War was to pick up German orders.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>We hear that, in addition to lowering +the lights at night, the authorities +intend, in order to confuse the enemy, +to alter the names of some of our +thoroughfares, and a start is to be +made with Park Lane, which is to be +changed to Petticoat Lane.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> is reported to have received +a nice letter from his old friend +<span class="sc">Abdul</span> ("the D—— d"), pointing out +that it is the fate of some kind and +gentle souls to be misunderstood.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Matches, it is stated, are required at +the front—to put an end, we believe, to +Tommy Atkins' reckless habit of lighting +his cigarette by applying it to the +burning fuse of a bomb.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A Sikh non-commissioned officer +has, according to <i>The Central News</i>, +delivered himself of the following saying:—"Power +is to kings, but time +belongs to the gods. The Indians know +how to wait." This will no doubt call +forth an indignant rejoinder from the +Teutonic Waiters' Association.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"Property insured in London is +valued at £1,320,000,000," according to +an announcement made by Lord <span class="sc">Peel</span> +last week. One can almost hear the +<span class="sc">Kaiser</span> smacking his lips.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>At last the authorities have acted, +and the premises of a German firm with +concrete foundations have been raided. +This bears out the promise of certain +high officials who declared that they +would take action when a concrete +example was brought to their notice.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The official "Eye-Witness" in a +recent despatch tells us how a British +subaltern saw, from a wood, an unsuspecting +German soldier patrolling +the road. Not caring to shoot his man +in cold blood, he gave him a ferocious +kick from behind, at which the startled +German ran away with a yell. This +subaltern certainly ought to have +figured in "Boots' Roll of Honour" +which was published last week.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Why, it is being asked, do not the +French retaliate for the damage done +by the Germans to their cathedrals +and drop bombs on Berlin? The +persons who put this question have +evidently never seen Berlin or they +would know that you cannot damage +its architecture if you try.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> has announced his intention +of eating his Christmas dinner in +London. We trust that Mr. <span class="sc">McKenna</span> +and his men will see to it that His +Majesty will, anyhow, find no mince +pies here. [<span class="sc">Note.</span>—"Mince pies" +should be pronounced "mean spies." +This greatly improves the paragraph.]</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>According to one report which reaches +us the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> is now beginning to +quibble. He has pointed out that, +when he said he would eat his Christmas +dinner at Buckingham Palace, he +did not mention which Christmas.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> + +<h2>TO THE ENEMY, ON HIS ACHIEVEMENT.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Now wanes the third moon since your conquering host</p> +<p class="i2">Was to have laid our weakling army low,</p> +<p class="i0">And walked through France at will. For that loud boast</p> +<p class="i4">What have you got to show?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">A bomb that chipped a tower of Nôtre Dame,</p> +<p class="i2">Leaving its mark like trippers' knives that scar</p> +<p class="i0">The haunts of beauty—that's the best <i>réclame</i></p> +<p class="i4">You have achieved so far.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Paris, that through her humbled Triumph-Arch</p> +<p class="i2">Was doomed to see you tread your fathers' tracks—</p> +<p class="i0">Paris, your goal, now lies a six days' march</p> +<p class="i4">Behind your homing backs.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Pressed to the borders where you lately passed</p> +<p class="i2">Bulging with insolence and fat with pride,</p> +<p class="i0">You stake your all upon a desperate cast</p> +<p class="i4">To stem the gathering tide.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Eastward the Russian draws you to his fold,</p> +<p class="i2">Content, on his own ground, to bide his day,</p> +<p class="i0">Out of whose toils not many feet of old</p> +<p class="i4">Found the returning way.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And still along the seas our watchers keep</p> +<p class="i2">Their grip upon your throat with bands of steel,</p> +<p class="i0">While that Armada, which should rake the deep,</p> +<p class="i4">Skulks in its hole at Kiel.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">So stands your record—stay, I cry you grace—</p> +<p class="i2">I wronged you. There is Belgium, where your sword</p> +<p class="i0">Has bled to death a free and gallant race</p> +<p class="i4">Whose life you held in ward;</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Where on your trail the smoking land lies bare</p> +<p class="i2">Of hearth and homestead, and the dead babe clings</p> +<p class="i0">About its murdered mother's breast—ah, there,</p> +<p class="i4">Yes, you have done great things!</p> +</div></div> + +<p class="author">O. S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>TOMMY BROWN, RECRUITING SERGEANT.</h2> + +<p>Tommy Brown had been moved up into Form II., lest +he should take root in Form I. He had been recommended +personally by the master of Form I. to Mr. Smith, the +guardian deity of Form II., as "the absolute limit." After +a year of Tommy, Mr. Smith had begun to mention him in +his prayers, not so much for Tommy's good as for his own +deliverance—mentally including him in the category of +plague, pestilence, famine and sudden death.</p> + +<p>Though the pervading note of Mr. Smith's report upon +Tommy was gloom, deep gloom, he must have had some +dim hopes of him, for, at the end of the Summer Term, he +had placed his hand upon Tommy's head and said, "Never +mind, my boy, we shall make a man of you some day."</p> + +<p>A new term had begun; Tommy Brown had mobilised +two days late, but he was in time for Mr. Smith's lecture +on "The War, boys."</p> + +<p>The orator spoke for an hour and a quarter, and at the +end he wiped his brows with the blackboard duster under +the impression that it was his handkerchief. Meanwhile +Tommy had eaten three apples, caught four flies, written +"Kiser" in chalk on the back of the boy in front of him, +exchanged a catapult with Jones minor for a knife, cut +his finger, and made faces at each of the four new boys. +Mr. Smith caught him in one of these contortions, but he +was speaking of Louvain at the moment and took it as a +compliment.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Tommy found himself confronted with a number +of sheets of clean paper. "The essay is to be written on +one side of the paper only," said Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>Tommy asked the boy next to him what they had to write +about, and the reply, "The War, you fool," set him thinking.</p> + +<p>A deathlike stillness fell upon the room; Tommy Brown +looked round, frowned heavily, dipped his pen in the ink +and then in his mouth, and thought hard.</p> + +<p>Then, after much frowning, he delivered himself of the +following, the ink being shared equally between himself and +the paper:—</p> + +<p>"The wor was becose the beljums wouldent let the +jermens go over there fields so they put minds in the sea +and bunbarded people dead with airplans. It was shokkin. +The rushens have got a steme roler. We have got a garden +roler at home and I pull it sometimes. I dont like jermens. +Kitchener said halt your country needs you and weve got +a lot of drednorts. The airplans drop boms on anyone if +your not looking it isnt fare yours truly T. Brown."</p> + +<p>The essay completed to his satisfaction, Tommy Brown +conveyed to his mouth a sweet the size and strength of +which fully justified the name "Britain's Bulwarks" +attached to it by the shopkeeper.</p> + +<p>He then leaned back with the air of one who had done +his duty in the sphere in which he found himself and +proceeded to survey the room.</p> + +<p>The other boys were still writing, and for fully half a +minute Tommy looked at them in pained surprise.</p> + +<p>He then read his own essay again and, finding no flaw +in it, frowned once more on his fellow pupils and wrote: +"My father won the Victoria Cross Meddle." Having +written this he looked round again somewhat defiantly. +His eye caught one of the new boys beginning another sheet.</p> + +<p>Tommy's essay just filled two-thirds of a page. He +would fight that new boy. Just then the words of a war +poster came into his head and he wrote in large letters: +"Your King and country want <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>Tommy studied this for a minute, and then, as the +appeal seemed directed to himself, he wrote: "I'm not +old enuf or I'd go my brothers gone I'm not a funk I let +Jones miner push a needle into my finger to show him."</p> + +<p>It seemed to Tommy Brown that the other boys possessed +some secret fund of information, even the new boys. +He'd show those new boys after school. Having made up +his mind on this point he printed at the bottom of his +essay, "Kitchener wants men." As an after-thought he +added, "My father was a man."</p> + +<p>He let his gaze wander round the room until it fell upon +the face of his master, and then, under some impulse, he +wrote the fateful words, "Mr. Smith is a man."</p> + +<p>"Finish off now!" rang out the command from Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>Tommy saw the other boys putting sheet after sheet +together, and he had hardly filled one. He racked his +brains for something to add to his essay, and there came +to his mind the words written under his father's portrait. +He had only time to put down "England expecs——" +when his paper was collected.</p> + +<p>No one ever read Tommy Brown's essay excepting Mr. +Smith, and he burnt it.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A lady teaches Form II. now, and Tommy Brown is +eagerly looking forward to the day when Mr. Smith will +return to occupy once more the post that is being kept +open for him, for Mr. Smith has promised to bring +Tommy home a German helmet.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"A number of shells burst together and almost at the same +moment he saw a large cigar-shaped cigar fall to the earth."</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author"><i>Bolton Evening News.</i></p> + +<p>The unusual shape of it struck him at once.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/331.png"> +<img src="images/331.png" width="100%" alt="THE GREATER GAME." /></a> +<h4>THE GREATER GAME.</h4> +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Punch</span> (<i>to Professional Association Player</i>). "NO DOUBT YOU CAN MAKE MONEY IN THIS +FIELD, MY FRIEND, BUT THERE'S ONLY ONE FIELD TO-DAY WHERE YOU CAN GET +HONOUR."</p><br /> +<p>[The Council of the Football Association apparently proposes to carry out the full programme of the Cup Competition, just as if the +country did not need the services of all its athletes for the serious business of War.]</p> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> + +<h2>THE SUNDAY EVENING EDITION.</h2> + +<p>Mrs. Henry looked up. "I think I +hear that boy again selling evening +papers," she said. "I suppose they +must come off the 9.5 train. But it's +a strange thing to happen on a Sunday—here."</p> + +<p>The Reverend Henry was already at +the window. He threw it up and +leaned out.</p> + +<p>"One can't approve of it, but I suppose +in war time—" Mrs. Henry was +beginning when her husband cut her +short. "Hush—I'm trying to hear +what he is saying. I wish boys could +be taught to speak distinctly." There +was a pause.</p> + +<p>"I can't make him out." The Reverend +Henry's head reappeared between +the curtains. "It's really most exasperating; +I'd give a lot to know if the +Belgian army got out of Antwerp +before it fell."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you shout down and ask +him?"</p> + +<p>"No, no. I cannot be discovered +interrogating urchins about secular +affairs from a second storey window +on Sunday evening. Still, I'd like to +know."</p> + +<p>The Reverend Henry perambulated +the room with knitted brow.</p> + +<p>"I never bought a Sunday paper of +any sort in my life. Never."</p> + +<p>"I suppose one must have <i>some</i> +principles," said his wife.</p> + +<p>"But it's enormously important, you +know. They may easily have been +surrounded and captured." He returned +to the window. "Hullo, he's gone to +the door. I say, Cook has bought +one. This is exciting. I should never +have thought Cook would have done +that."</p> + +<p>"It raises rather a nice point," said +Mrs. Henry.</p> + +<p>The Reverend Henry returned resolutely +to his book. The shouts of the +newsvendor died away.</p> + +<p>"We must not forget," said the +Reverend Henry irrelevantly, "that +Cook is a Dissenter." Then suddenly +he broke out. "I wish I knew," he +said. "I am not paying the least +attention to this book and I shan't +sleep well, and I shall get up about two +hours before the morning paper arrives, +and be restive till I know whether the +Belgians got out. But what am I to +do? I can't ask Cook."</p> + +<p>"I might go down," his wife volunteered. +"I needn't say anything about +it, you know. I could just stroll about +the kitchen and change the orders for +breakfast. The paper is pretty sure to +be lying about. There may be headlines."</p> + +<p>"No," said the Reverend Henry +with determination, "I really cannot +consent to it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I may as well go to bed. +Don't sit up late."</p> + +<p>The Reverend Henry did sit up rather +late. He was wide awake and ill at ease. +At last he listened intently at the door +and then took a candle and stole down +the passage.</p> + +<p>The Reverend Henry had not been +in his own kitchen for close upon ten +years, and he did not know the way +about very well. He had adventures +and some moments of rigid suspense +while the clatter of a kicked coal-scuttle +died away in the distance. But when +at last he crept noiselessly up-stairs +he was assured of a good night's rest.</p> + +<p>"What a mess your hands are in," +said Mrs. Henry sleepily.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Henry. "That miserable +woman had used it to lay the fire. +But it's all right. They did get out—most +of them."</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/333.png"> +<img src="images/333.png" width="100%" alt="Alf reading French news." /></a><br /><br /> +<p><i>Alf</i> (<i>reading French news</i>). "<span class="sc">All the cinemas in Calais are shut up. My +word! That brings the horrors of war pretty close to home</span>!"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"British Troops Fighting +(Official)."</p></blockquote> +<p class="author"><i>Western Mail.</i></p> +<p>So the Censor has let the secret out at +last, and the rumours of the last 70 +days prove to be well founded.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>"Five hundred German prisoners were +landed in Dublin yesterday afternoon, and +conveyed under escort to Templemore, County +Tipperary."</p></blockquote> +<p class="author"><i>Newcastle Daily Journal.</i></p> +<p>It's a long, long way, but they've got +there at last.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> + +<h2>UNINTELLIGENT ANTICIPATION.</h2> + +<p>"My dear," I said, "you are always +proposing things, and then, when they +are carried <i>nem. con.</i>, you argue against +your own proposal."</p> + +<p>"It's unfair to use Greek to me."</p> + +<p>"<i>'Nem. con.</i>,'" I said, "is rich old +Castilian and, put simply, means that +nobody—I am nobody—objects."</p> + +<p>"But we can't afford a new tea-set."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you ask so many to +tea at once?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't think," said +Alison. "They are coming +to make pyjamas for our +soldiers in the trenches, +and I simply thought +that the more people came +the more pyjamas there +would be."</p> + +<p>"How many cups have +we?"</p> + +<p>"Only five tea-cups. +Jessie broke two more +yesterday, and there's one +with a piece out that +you or I could use. Oh! +and there are the two +breakfast cups and two +odd ones which would +make up the number, but +they're such a mixed lot."</p> + +<p>Jessie is our domestic +staff and a champion +china-breaker.</p> + +<p>"If Jessie," I said, +"were not so good to +young Peter I should insist +on handing her back her +credentials. Hold! I have +the germ of an idea. Leave +me to work it out, please. +I see credit, nay kudos, +in it."</p> + +<p>At the end of ten minutes +Alison looked in +again.</p> + +<p>"I'm just putting the +finishing touches," I said. +"Kindly ask Peter to spare me a few +moments. He's sailing his boats in +the bath, I imagine. By the way, +what time are these people coming?"</p> + +<p>"Half-past four," said Alison, "and +it's now nearly four."</p> + +<p>"Then please see that Jessie brings +in tea at five exactly."</p> + +<p>"Why exactly?" said Alison.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" I said. "Five is a very +good hour, and it's part of my scheme."</p> + +<p>"It's most mysterious," said Alison.</p> + +<p>"It's particularly ingenious," I said. +"Everything dovetails in beautifully, +and if you'll carry out your small share +all will be well. By the way, if I make +any remark to the company before tea +which is not—er—strictly true, you will +please to take no notice of it.</p> + +<p>"I'll try not to," said Alison, "if it +isn't too outrageous."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," I said, "nothing to shy +at. But I might find it necessary to +say something about a Worcester tea-set. +Listen," I said before she could +interrupt. "When you hear me say, +'Worcester tea-set' you say 'Great +heavens!' or whatever women say +under stress of great emotion. But sit +tight. Don't go and see about it."</p> + +<p>"See about what?"</p> + +<p>"The Worcester tea-set, of course."</p> + +<p>"But we haven't got one."</p> + +<p>"My dear girl," I said, "try to +imagine we have. In this little drawing-room +comedy you've only one line +to learn, and your cue's 'Worcester +tea-set.'"</p> + +<p>"But what's the idea?" said Alison.</p> + +<p>"The idea," I said, "is great, but it +is as well you should not know the +whole plot of the piece yet. Play your +one line, and I, as stage manager, will +answer for the rest of the cast."</p> + +<p>"And what's Peter got to do with it? +I want him to have tea with Jessie."</p> + +<p>"Right," I said. "Peter's part is +important, but is played off—in the +wings, as it were."</p> + +<p>My interview with Peter was not a +long one.</p> + +<p>"Now look here, old pal," I said at +the close, "quarter to exactly, in the +bathroom."</p> + +<p>"Right-o! Daddy." Peter (ætat. 9) +has a wrist-watch already and winds +it regularly, so I knew he wouldn't +fail me.</p> + +<p>At a quarter to five I was talking to +Mrs. Padbury, the Rector's wife, about +the doings of the various Armies in the +field. I was sitting in such a position +that, while seeming to attend only to +her, I could keep an eye on the drawing-room +clock behind her. +Every detail of my scheme +had been carefully +arranged; it now only +remained for the actors +to play their ...</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Crash!</p></div> + +<p>"Bless my soul," I said, +"that sounds remarkably +like the Worcester tea-set," +and looking at the +clock again I knew that +Peter had made the "loud +noise off", at the exact +moment. "Good lad," I +said to myself.</p> + +<p>"Great heavens!" said +Alison.</p> + +<p>I was delighted. I had +been more afraid of Alison's +getting stage fright than +of anything else, and there +she was playing her part +like a veteran actress. +Things were going really +splendidly.</p> + +<p>It was at this precise +moment that the grandfather +clock in the kitchen +gave out the first stroke +of five, and at the same +moment Jessie entered +bearing a tray, on which +were the five drawing-room +tea-cups which were +intact, the single ditto with +a piece out, two breakfast +cups and two odd ones.</p> + +<p>So the one player, the kitchen clock, +whose part had been overlooked, had +spoilt the whole show by being nearly +fifteen minutes fast; and the fact that +Jessie tripped on the doormat as she +came in, with fatal results to the rest +of our tea-things, was a mere circumstance.</p> + +<p>Alison blames me for everything.</p> + +<p>The next pyjama conference is to be +held at the Rectory.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>From a well-known Firm's catalogue:—</p> +<blockquote><p><i>"Our roll of honour to date: 487 employees +joined the colours."</i></p></blockquote> +<p>The question, "Shall women fight?" +has now been decided.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/334.png"> +<img src="images/334.png" width="100%" alt="The St. John Ambulance Association" /></a><br /><br /> + +<p>The St. John Ambulance Association, which forms part of the Red +Cross Organisation of Great Britain, derives its name and traditions +from the Order of St. John of Jerusalem (Knights Hospitallers), founded +at the time of the Crusades. It has at this moment many thousands of +workers engaged in tending the wounded at the seat of war and in the +hospitals of the Order.</p> + +<p>In peace time it does not appeal to the public for subscriptions, but +under the stress of war it finds itself in urgent need of help, and is +absolutely compelled to ask for funds. Gifts should be sent to the Chief +Secretary, Colonel Sir Herbert C. Perrott, Bt., C.B., at St. John's Gate, +Clerkenwell, E.C., and cheques should be crossed "London County and +Westminster Bank, Lothbury," and made payable to the St. John +Ambulance Association. In aid of its work, a Concert (at which +Madame Patti will sing) is to be given at the Albert Hall on Saturday +afternoon, October 24th.</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/335.png"> +<img src="images/335.png" width="100%" alt="A UNITED FAMILY." /></a> +<h4>A UNITED FAMILY.</h4> +<p><i>Irish would-be Recruit.</i> "<span class="sc">Beg pardon, Captain, but the man in there won't let me go to fight because of me eye</span>."</p> +<p><i>Captain.</i> "<span class="sc">Have you ever been in the Army</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Would-be Recruit.</i> "<span class="sc">I have, sorr</span>."</p> +<p><i>Captain.</i> "<span class="sc">What regiment</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Would-be Recruit.</i> "<span class="sc">Me brother was in the Leinsters</span>."</p> +</div> +<hr /> + +<h2>STICK TO IT, RIGHT WING!</h2> + +<center>(<i>A few suggested official communiqués, respectfully offered +to the authorities in Paris.</i>)</center><br /> + +<center><span class="sc">Monday.</span></center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Enemy, towards Lassigny, made attack,</p> +<p class="i2">But after suffering heavy loss withdrew.</p> +<p class="i0">We have made progress near to Berry-au-Bac,</p> +<p class="i2">And on our right wing there is nothing new.</p> +</div></div> + +<center><span class="sc">Tuesday.</span></center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Near the Argonne we had a slight reverse</p> +<p class="i2">(Though what the Germans said is quite untrue).</p> +<p class="i0">Along the Meuse things seem a little worse,</p> +<p class="i2">But on our right wing there is nothing new.</p> +</div></div> + +<center><span class="sc">Wednesday.</span></center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">We gather that sensational reports</p> +<p class="i2">Announced the fall of Antwerp ere 'twas due;</p> +<p class="i0">There's still resistance in some Antwerp forts,</p> +<p class="i2">And on our right wing there is nothing new.</p> +</div></div> + +<center><span class="sc">Thursday.</span></center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Our left is making progress, and it looks</p> +<p class="i2">(For the straight line is getting very skew)</p> +<p class="i0">As if our forces might surround <span class="sc">von Kluck's</span>.</p> +<p class="i2">Meantime, on right wing there is nothing new.</p> +</div></div> + +<center><span class="sc">Friday.</span></center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Fighting in centre; German loss immense;</p> +<p class="i2">Our casualties, it seems, were very few.</p> +<p class="i0">All up the left wing Germans very dense;</p> +<p class="i2">May they remain so! Right wing, nothing new.</p> +</div></div> + +<center><span class="sc">Saturday.</span></center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">In some few places we have given ground;</p> +<p class="i2">In several others we have broken through.</p> +<p class="i0">Our left is still by way of working round,</p> +<p class="i2">And on our right wing there is nothing new.</p> +</div></div> + +<center><span class="sc">Sunday.</span></center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">On our left wing the state of things remains</p> +<p class="i2">Unaltered, on a general review.</p> +<p class="i0">Our losses in the centre match our gains,</p> +<p class="i2">And on our right wing there is nothing new.</p> +</div></div> + +<center><span class="sc">L'Envoi.</span></center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">So it goes on. But there may come a day</p> +<p class="i2">When <span class="sc">Wilhelm's</span> cheek assumes a different hue,</p> +<p class="i0">And bulletins are rounded off this way:—</p> +<p class="i2">"And on the right wing there is something new."</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote>"The prisoner, who was said to be an Indian barrister's window, +was placed on the floor of the Court."</blockquote> +<p class="author">—<i>Edinburgh Evening Dispatch.</i></p> +<p>The prisoner would have looked better in the roof as a +skylight.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> + +<h2>"THE DOUBLE MYSTERY."</h2> + +<center>ACT I.</center> + +<p><i>Scene:</i> <i>The house of</i> Judge Hallers. +<i>Also of</i> Mr. <span class="sc">Arthur Bourchier</span>; +<i>that is to say, The Garrick.</i></p> + +<p><i>Doctor Ferrier</i> (<i>professionally</i>). Now +tell me the symptoms. Where do you +feel the pain?</p> + +<p><i>Judge Hallers.</i> At the back of the +head. I've never been myself since I +fell off my bicycle. My memory goes.</p> + +<p><i>Ferrier.</i> Ah, I know what you want. +Open your mouth. (<i>Inserts thermometer.</i>) +This will cure you ... Good +heavens, he's swallowed it!</p> + +<p><i>Hallers.</i> There you are, that's what +I mean. I thought it was asparagus +for the moment. Haven't you another +one on you?</p> + +<p><i>Ferrier.</i> Tut, tut, this is very singular. +(<i>Makes another effort to grapple with +it.</i>) What books have you been reading +lately?</p> + +<p><i>Hallers.</i> One about Dual Personality. +It's all rubbish.</p> + +<p><i>Ferrier</i> (<i>quoting from the programme +with an air of profound knowledge</i>). +Cases showing prevalence of this mental +disorder are to be found everywhere. +(<i>Gets up.</i>) Well, well, I will come round +to-morrow with another thermometer. +Good night.</p> + +<p class="author">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p><i>Hallers.</i> Dual personality—nonsense! +(<i>A spasm seizes him. He scowls +at the audience, ties a muffler round his +neck and loses his identity.</i>) Gr-r-r-r! +Waugh-waugh! Gr-r-r-r-r! Przemysl!</p> + +<p class="author">[<i>Exit growling.</i></p> + +<center><span class="sc">Act II.</span></center> + +<p><i>Scene: "The Lame Duck" café, a +horrible haunt of depravity.</i></p> + +<p><i>Poulard</i> (<i>the Proprietor, to long-bearded +customer</i>). Yes, Sir?</p> + +<p><i>L.-B. Customer.</i> H'sh! (<i>Removes portion +of beard.</i>) I am Inspector Heidegg!</p> + +<p><i>Poulard.</i> Fried egg?</p> + +<p><i>Inspector</i> (<i>annoyed</i>). Heidegg. (<i>Replaces +beard.</i>) A gang of desperate desperados, +headed by the ruffianly ruffian +whom they call The Baron, will be here +to-night. I shall be hiding under the +counter. Ten men and two dachshunds +surround the house. If you betray me +your licence will not be worth a moment's +purchase.</p> + +<p class="author">[<i>He dives under the counter.</i> Poulard, +<i>rather upset, goes out and kicks the +waiter.</i></p> + +<p><i>Enter the gang of desperados, male and +female. A scene of horrible debauchery +ensues.</i></p> + +<p><i>Charlier</i> (<i>revelling recklessly</i>). Small +lemonade, waiter.</p> + +<p><i>Picard</i> (<i>with abandoned gaiety</i>). A +dry biscuit and a glass of milk.</p> + +<p><i>Jacquot</i> (<i>letting himself go</i>). Dash, +bother, hang, bust!</p> + +<p><i>Picard</i> (<i>to</i> Merlin). Why don't you +revel?</p> + +<p><i>Merlin</i> (<i>giving</i> Suzanne <i>a nudge</i>). +What-ho!</p> + +<p class="author">[<i>Relapses into silence again.</i></p> + +<p><i>Picard</i> (<i>gaily</i>). A song! a song!</p> + +<p><i>Charlier</i> (<i>in an agonised whisper</i>). +You fool, none of us can sing!</p> + +<p><i>Picard.</i> What about the girl who +sang the recruiting song before the play +began? Isn't she behind the scenes +still? (<i>Cracking his biscuit.</i>) Well, +let's have a dance anyway. We must +make the thing <i>go.</i> Waiter, <i>another</i> +glass of milk.</p> + +<p><i>Enter</i> Judge Hallers <i>in scowl and +muffler.</i></p> + +<p><i>Charlier</i> (<i>enthusiastically</i>). Ha! The +Baron!</p> + +<p><i>Hallers.</i> I mean business to-night, +boys. Look at this! (<i>He produces a +dagger and a pistol.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Charlier.</i> What a man!</p> + +<p class="author">[<i>He throws away his pea-shooter in +disgust.</i> Jacquot, <i>who has just +begun to strop a fish-knife, realizes +that he has been outdone in devilry, +and gives it back to the waiter.</i> +Picard <i>replaces his knotted handkerchief.</i></p> + +<p><i>Hallers.</i> Yes, boys, I've got a crib +for you to crack to-night. It's Judge +Hallers' house. (<i>A loud bumping noise +is heard from the direction of the +counter.</i>) What's that?</p> + +<p><i>It is</i> Inspector Heidegg. (<i>Raising his +head incautiously, in order to catch his +first sight of the notorious Baron, he has +struck the top of his skull against +the counter and is now lying stunned.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>All.</i> A spy!</p> + +<p><i>Hallers.</i> Bring him out ... Ha! +Who is he? Is that his own beard or +Clarkson's?</p> + +<p><i>Charlier.</i> It's a police inspector in a +false beard!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. <span class="sc">Bourchier</span></i> (<i>contemptuously</i>).</p> + +<p>A real artist would have <i>grown</i> a beard. +(<i>Producing his knife.</i>) He must die.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>(<i>There is a loud noise without.</i>)</p></div> + +<p><i>Noise without.</i> Open! Bang-bang. +Open! Bow-wow, bow-wow.</p> +<p class="author">[<i>It is +the police and the two dachshunds.</i></p> + +<p><i>Hallers.</i> Quick! The trap-door!</p> + +<p class="author">[<i>They escape as the dachshunds enter.</i></p> + +<center><span class="sc">Last Act.</span></center> + +<p><i>Scene:</i> <i>Next morning at Judge Hallers.</i></p> + +<p><i>Dr. Ferrier.</i> Good morning, Judge. +I've come with that other thermometer. +I have ventured to tie a piece of string +to it, so that in case the—er—temperature +goes down again—— But what's +happened here? You seem all upset.</p> + +<p><i>Hallers.</i> Burglary. I dropped asleep +at my desk here last night, and when +I wake up I find that a criminal called +The Baron and two accomplices have +burgled my house. The Baron escaped, +but Heidegg caught the others.</p> + +<p><i>Ferrier.</i> Extraordinary thing. What +theatres have you been to lately?</p> + +<p><i>Hatters.</i> Only the Garrick. (<i>Enter</i> +Heidegg.) Well, anything fresh to +report, Inspector?</p> + +<p><i>Heidegg.</i> Yes, Judge. The prisoners +say that you are The Baron. But they +say you had a muffler on last night. +That might account for our dachshunds +missing the scent.</p> + +<p><i>Hallers.</i> Good heavens, what do +you make of this, Doctor?</p> + +<p><i>Ferrier</i> (<i>picking up programme</i>). +Cases showing prevalence of this mental +disorder——</p> + +<p><i>Hallers.</i> You mean I am a dual +personality! (<i>Covers his face with his +hands.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Ferrier.</i> Come, come, control yourself.</p> + +<p><i>Hallers</i> (<i>calmly</i>). It is all right; I +am my own man—I mean my own two +men again. What shall I do?</p> + +<p><i>Ferrier.</i> You must wrestle with your +second self. I will hypnotise you. +(<i>He glares at him.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Hallers</i> (<i>after a long pause</i>). Well, +why don't you begin?</p> + +<p><i>Ferrier.</i> You ass, I'm doing it all +the time. This is the latest way.... +There! Now then, wrestle!</p> + +<p class="author">[<i>A terrible struggle ensues. After what +seems about half an hour the Judge, +panting heavily, gets The Baron +metaphorically down on the mat, +and—— </i></p> + +<p><i>Ferrier.</i> Time! (<i>Replacing his watch.</i>) +That will do for to-day. But continue +the treatment every morning—say for +half an hour before the bath. Good +day to you.</p> + +<p><i>Hallers.</i> Wait a moment; you can't +go like this. We must have a proper +curtain. Ah, here's my <i>fiancée</i>. Would +you—— Thank you!</p> + +<p class="author">[<i>The Doctor leads her to the Judge, +who embraces her.</i></p> + +<center><span class="sc">Curtain.</span></center> + +<p class="author">A. A. M.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"It was dark, and as he stumbled on his +way he called out, 'Are you there, Fritz?' A +French soldier with a knowledge of German +shouted back, 'Here.'"—<i>Daily Mail.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>At the critical moment his knowledge +of German seems to have failed him.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>From the report of the Manchester +Medical Officer of Health:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"An important step forward was taken in +1909, when an Order of the Local Government +Board made Tuberculosis of the Lungs obligatory +on the Medical Officers of the Poor Law +Service; in 1911 a second Order extended the +obligation to other Institutions."</p></blockquote> + +<p>So far, luckily, the Order has not been +extended to journalists. Regarding it, +however, from the standpoint of the +onlooker, we think that the L. G. B. +has gone a little beyond its powers.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span> + +<h4>WHY HAVE WE NO SUPERMEN LIKE THE GERMANS?</h4> + +<table summary="cartoon"> +<tr><td> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100%"> +<a href="images/337a.png"> +<img src="images/337a.png" width="70%" alt="How they might brighten Regent Street." /></a></div></td> + +<td><div class="figcenter" style="width: 100%"> +<a href="images/337b.png"> +<img src="images/337b.png" width="70%" alt="How they might wake up our restaurants." /></a></div></td></tr> + +<tr><td><center> <span class="sc">How they might brighten<br /> Regent Street.</span></center></td> +<td><center> <span class="sc">How they might wake up our<br /> restaurants.</span></center> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100%"> +<a href="images/337d.png"> +<img src="images/337c.png" width="70%" alt="And honour us with their gallantry." /></a></div></td> + +<td><div class="figcenter" style="width: 100%"> +<a href="images/337d.png"> +<img src="images/337d.png" width="70%" alt="And, best of all" /></a></div></td></tr> + +<tr><td><center> <span class="sc">And honour us with<br /> their gallantry.</span></center></td> +<td><center> <span class="sc">And, best of all, how amusing<br /> to see them meet a<br /> +super-superman.</span></center></td></tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/338.png"> +<img src="images/338.png" width="100%" alt="FACTS FROM THE FRONT" /></a> +<h4>FACTS FROM THE FRONT.</h4> +<p><span class="sc">Storm of righteous indignation at the enemy's headquarters on their being shown a "barbarous and disgusting +engine of war" in use by the Allies</span>. [<i>The Germans have taken a strong objection to the French 75 m/m gun.</i>]</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE GREAT SHOCK.</h2> + +<center>(<i>Or a tragic result of Armageddon as +gleaned from the Evening Press.</i>)</center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">No more the town discusses</p> +<p class="i2">The Halls and what will win;</p> +<p class="i4">Now stifled are the wags' tones</p> +<p class="i4">On Piccadilly's flagstones,</p> +<p class="i0">And half the motor-buses</p> +<p class="i2">Have started for Berlin.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">New eyes to war adapting</p> +<p class="i2">We stare at the Gazette;</p> +<p class="i4">Yon eager-faced civilian,</p> +<p class="i4">When posters flaunt vermilion</p> +<p class="i0">And boys say "Paper, capting,"</p> +<p class="i2">Replies "Not <i>captain</i>—yet."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Remains," I asked, "no station</p> +<p class="i2">Of piping peace and sport?</p> +<p class="i4">Oh yes. Though kings may tumble,</p> +<p class="i4">No howitzers can rumble,</p> +<p class="i0">No sounds but cachinnation</p> +<p class="i2">Can boom from <span class="sc">Darling's</span> Court.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"That garden of the Graces</p> +<p class="i2">Can hear no cannon roar;</p> +<p class="i4">From that dear island valley</p> +<p class="i4">No bruit of arms can sally.</p> +<p class="i0">But men must burst their braces</p> +<p class="i2">With laughter as of yore.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"While dogs of war are snarling</p> +<p class="i2">His wit shall sweep away</p> +<p class="i4">Bellona's ominous vapour;"</p> +<p class="i4">Therefore I bought a paper</p> +<p class="i0">To see what Justice <span class="sc">Darling</span></p> +<p class="i2">Happened to have to say.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">In vain his humour sortied,</p> +<p class="i2">In vain with spurts of glee</p> +<p class="i4">Like field-guns on the trenches</p> +<p class="i4">He raked the crowded benches;</p> +<p class="i0">My evening print reported</p> +<p class="i2">No kind of casualty.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">No prisoner howled and hooted,</p> +<p class="i2">No strong policemen tore</p> +<p class="i4">With helpless mirth their jackets,</p> +<p class="i4">There was not even in brackets</p> +<p class="i0">This notice: "(Laughter—muted</p> +<p class="i2">In deference to the war.")</p> +</div></div> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Evoe.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>A Traitor Press.</h4> + +<blockquote>"BRITISH PRESS BACK THE ENEMY."</blockquote> +<p class="author"><i>Manchester Courier.</i></p> +<p><i>Punch</i> anyhow backs the Allies.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>Cardiff claims the honour of having +enlisted the heaviest recruit in the +person of a police constable weighing +nineteen stone odd. He should prove +invaluable for testing bridges before the +heavy artillery passes across.</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A ROYAL CRACKSMAN.</h2> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">When the housebreaking business is slack</p> +<p class="i2">And cracksmen are finding it slow—</p> +<p class="i0">For all the seasiders are back</p> +<p class="i2">And a great many more didn't go—</p> +<p class="i0">Here's excellent news from the front</p> +<p class="i2">And joy in Bill Sikes's brigade;</p> +<p class="i4">Things are looking up since</p> +<p class="i4">The German <span class="sc">Crown Prince</span></p> +<p class="i2">Has been giving a fillip to trade.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">His methods are quite up to date,</p> +<p class="i2">Displaying adroitness and dash;</p> +<p class="i0">What he wants he collects in a crate,</p> +<p class="i2">What he doesn't he's careful to smash.</p> +<p class="i0">An historical château in France</p> +<p class="i2">With Imperial ardour he loots,</p> +<p class="i4">Annexing the best</p> +<p class="i4">And erasing the rest</p> +<p class="i2">With the heels of his soldierly boots.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Sikes reads the report with applause;</p> +<p class="i2">It's quite an inspiring affair;</p> +<p class="i0">But a sudden idea gives him pause—</p> +<p class="i2"><i>The Germans must stop over there!</i></p> +<p class="i0">So he flutters a Union Jack</p> +<p class="i2">To help to keep Englishmen steady,</p> +<p class="i4">Remarking, "His nibs</p> +<p class="i4">Mustn't crack <i>English</i> cribs,</p> +<p class="i0">The profession is crowded already."</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/339.png"> +<img src="images/339.png" width="100%" alt="UNCONQUERABLE" /></a> +<h4>UNCONQUERABLE.</h4> +<p><span class="sc">The Kaiser</span>, "SO, YOU SEE—YOU'VE LOST EVERYTHING."</p> +<p><span class="sc">The King of the Belgians</span>, "NOT MY SOUL."</p> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/341.png"> +<img src="images/341.png" width="100%" alt="MORE HORRORS OF WAR." /></a> +<h4>MORE HORRORS OF WAR.</h4> +<p><i>Lady Midas</i> (<i>to friend</i>). "<span class="sc">Yes, do come to dinner on Friday. Only I must caution you that it will be an absolute +picnic, for my fourth and sixth footmen have just enlisted.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WAR ITEMS.</h2> + +<p>The reiterated accusations made by +Germany of the use of dum-dum +bullets by the Allies, although they are +not believed by anyone else, appear to +be accepted without question by the +German General Staff. New measures +of retaliation are being taken, which, +while not strictly forbidden by International +Law, may at any rate be said +to contravene the etiquette of civilised +warfare. We learn from Sir JOHN +FRENCH'S Eye-witness that numbers of +gramophones have made their appearance +in the German trenches north of +the Aisne River.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Papers captured in the pocket of a +member of the German Army Service +Corps contain bitter complaints of the +enormous strain thrown upon the +already over-taxed railway system in +Germany by the <span class="sc">Kaiser's</span> repeated +journeys to and fro between the +Eastern and the Western Theatres of +War. He is referred to (rather flippantly) +as "The Imperial Pendulum" +(<i>Perpendikel</i>). The writer, while recognising +the eager devotion with +which the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> is pursuing his search +for a victory in the face of repeated +disappointment, congratulates himself +that the Imperial journeys, though +they are not likely to be discontinued, +will at least grow shorter and shorter +as time goes on. Indeed, it is hoped +that before long a brief spin in the +Imperial automobile-de-luxe will cover +the ground between the Eastern and +Western Theatres.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WORKS OF KULTUR.</h2> + +<p>In some respects, apparently, the +enemy has been less affected by the +War than we have. While in England +the book-trade has been slightly depressed, +in Germany it seems to be +flourishing. We give samples from the +latest catalogues:—</p> + +<center><span class="sc">Poetry.</span></center> + +<p>The most interesting volume announced +is <i>A Hunning We Will Go, +and Other Verses</i>, by <span class="sc">William Hohenzollern</span>, +whose <i>Bleeding Heart</i> attracted +so much attention.</p> + +<center><span class="sc">History.</span></center> + +<p><i>Kaiser's Gallic War Books, I. & +II.</i>, a new edition, very much revised +since August by General <span class="sc">von Kluck</span> +and other accomplished scholars, are +certain to be of great use for educational +purposes.</p> + +<center><span class="sc">Natural History.</span></center> + +<p>In this department a work likely to +be enquired for is <i>The Dogs of St. +Bernhardi</i>, by General <span class="sc">von Moltke</span>.</p> + +<center><span class="sc">Fiction.</span></center> + +<p>The demand for fiction in Germany +is said to be without parallel and the +supply appears to be not inadequate. +Among forthcoming volumes there +should be a demand for <i>Der Tag; or, +It Never Can Happen Again</i>.</p> + +<center><span class="sc">General.</span></center> + +<p><i>Proverbial Philosophy</i> contains the +favourite proverbs of various persons of +eminence. From the Imperial <span class="sc">Finance +Minister</span> comes: "It's never too late +to lend." From General <span class="sc">Manteuffel</span> +(the destroyer of Louvain library): "Too +many books spoil the Goth." The +<span class="sc">Crown Prince</span> contributes: "Beware +the rift within the loot."</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> + +<h2>ZEITUNGS AND GAZETTINGS.</h2> + +<center><span class="sc">Roosevelt Unmasked.</span></center> + +<p>It is sad to relate, but persistent +efforts to maintain the disinterested +claim on American friendship which +we Germans have always (when in +need of it) advanced, continue to be +misrepresented in that stronghold of +atheistical materialism and Byzantine +voluptuousness, New York. To the +gifted Professor von Schwank's challenge, +that he could not fill a single +"scrap of paper" with the record of +acts of war on our part which were +incompatible with Divine guidance and +the promulgation of the higher culture, +the effete and already discredited +<span class="sc">Roosevelt</span> has merely replied, +"Could fill Rheims." This is +very poor stuff and worthy only +of a creature who combines with +the intellectual development of +a gorilla the pachymenia of +the rhinoceros and the dental +physiognomy of the wart-hog. +<span class="sc">Roosevelt</span>, once our friend, is +plainly the enemy and must be +watched. Should he decide, +however, even at the eleventh +hour, to fall in line with civilisation, +he can rely on finding in +Germany, in return for any little +acts of useful neutrality which +he may be able to perform, a +generous ally, a faithful upholder +of treaty obligations, +and a tenacious friend. There +must surely be something that +America covets—something belonging +to one of our enemies. +Between men of honour we need +say no more.</p> + +<center><span class="sc">Base Calumny Exposed.</span></center> + +<p>Let us speak plainly with regard +to the Rheims affair. We +have successively maintained +that this over-rated monument of +Arimaspian decadence (1) was not injured +in any way; (2) was only blown +to pieces in conformity with the rules +of civilised warfare; (3) was mutilated +and fired by our unscrupulous and +barbaric opponents themselves; (4) +was deliberately pushed into our line of +fire on the night of the 19th September; +(5) never existed at all, being indeed an +elaborate but puerile fiction basely invented +by a baffled enemy with the object +of discrediting our enlightened army in +the eyes of neutral Powers. Any of +these was good enough, but what now +appears is better. Exact measurements +have since demonstrated beyond all +question of cavil that Rheims Cathedral +had been built with mathematical +accuracy to shield our contemptible +enemy's trenches around Chalons from +our best gun positions outside Laon. +This act of treachery proves that, instead +of Germany being the aggressor, +France has been cunningly preparing +ever since 1212 <span class="sc">A.D.</span> for the war which +at last even our chivalrous diplomacy +has been powerless to avert.</p> + +<center><span class="sc">Generous Offer to Monaco.</span></center> + +<p>It is time for Monaco to reconsider +its position. Should it maintain its +present short-sighted and untenable +neutrality what has it to gain from +England, France, or Russia? Nothing +that it has not already got. Monaco +very naturally wants something more. +Let us be frank. We of Germany +speak very differently. It is not desirable +to be specific, but short of that +we may say that whatever Monaco +asks for it will be promised. England, +we would then repeat, is the enemy. +Has Monaco forgotten the sinister +malignity of an article in an English +paper disclosing "How to Break the +Bank at Monte Carlo." It is unnecessary +to labour the point, to which we +will return in our next issue. Monaco, +in short, like Turkey, Bolivia, China, +the United States, Hayti and Oman, is +the natural ally of Germany.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/342.png"> +<img src="images/342.png" width="100%" alt="Pfutsch! Dey vas just a few tings" /></a><br /><br /> +<p>"<span class="sc">Pfutsch! Dey vas just a few tings vat I use to +frighden der cats from mein garten!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"After exhaustive research a Scotch scientist +has decided that no trees are species is struck +as often as another."</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author"><i>Vancouver Daily Province.</i></p> + +<p>He must have a rest and then try some +more research.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE SLUMP IN CRIME.</h2> + +<p>"Praise is due to criminals," remarked +Mr. <span class="sc">Robert Wallace, K.C.</span>, +at the London Sessions, "for the self-control +they are exercising during this +period of stress and anxiety."</p> + +<p>It is to be feared that Mr. <span class="sc">Wallace's</span> +views are not entirely shared by the +legal profession. As the junior partner +in Mowlem & Mowlem confided to our +representative: "That's all very fine, +but what's to become of <i>us</i>? Not a +burglar on our books for the last six +weeks. Not a confidence man; not a +coiner; not a note expert. And they +had the opportunity of their lives with +the <span class="sc">John Bradbury</span> notes! We +shall have to shut up our office, +and then what's to become of +our clerk? What's to become +of our charwoman? I ask you, +what's to become of our charwoman's +poor old husband dependent +on her? No, let's have +patriotism in its <i>right</i> place!"</p> + +<p>An old-established firm of +scientific implement merchants +showed even more indignation. +"We had taken our place in +the firing-line in the War on +Germany's Trade," they declared. +"We had made arrangements +for home manufacture +to supplant the alien jemmy. +No British burglar would need to +be equipped with anything but +all-British implements, turned +out in British factories and +giving employment to British +workmen only. And now what +do we find? The market has +gone to pot. Yes, Sir, to pot. +And that's the reward for our +patriotic efforts!"</p> + +<p>Opinions of other representative +men in the criminological +world have reached us in response +to telegrams (reply paid):—</p> + +<p>Sir <span class="sc">Arthur Conan Doyle</span>: "Ruin +stares me in the face."</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Gerald du Maurier</span>: "Have +decided to suppress <i>Raffles</i> for the +period of the War."</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Raffles</span>: "Have decided to +suppress <span class="sc">Gerald du Maurier</span> for the +period of the war."</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">G. K. Chesterton</span>: "Have always +maintained that patriotism is the +curse of the criminal classes. Will contribute +ten guineas to National Fund +for Indigent Burglars Whose Front +Name Is Not William."</p> + +<p>Crown Prince <span class="sc">Wilhelm</span>: "Have +nothing to give away to the Press."</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">George Bernard Shaw</span>: "My +first telegram for three months. To be +a criminal needs brains. There are no +English criminals."</p> + +<hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/343.png"> +<img src="images/343.png" width="100%" alt="Goodness me! What 'ave you been doing" /></a> +<p><i>Nurse.</i> "<span class="sc">Goodness me! What 'ave you been doing to your dolls?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Joan.</i> "<span class="sc">Charlie's killed them! He said they were made in Germany, +and how were we to know they weren't spies?</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WITH HIGH HEART.</h2> + +<p>The long line of red earth twisted +away until it was lost in the fringe of +a small copse on the left and had dipped +behind a hillock on the right. Flat +open country stretched ahead, grass +lands and fields of stubble, lifeless and +deserted.</p> + +<p>There was no enemy to be seen and +not even a puff of smoke to suggest his +whereabouts. But the air was full of +the booming of heavy guns and the +rising eerie shriek of the shrapnel.</p> + +<p>Behind the line of red earth lay the +British, each man with his rifle cuddled +lovingly to his shoulder, a useless +weapon that yet conveyed a sense of +comfort. The shells were bursting with +hideous accuracy—sharp flashes of +white light, a loud report and then a +murderous rain of shrapnel.</p> + +<p>"Crikey!" said a little man in filthy +rain-sodden khaki, as a handful of earth +rose up and hit him on the shoulder; +"crikey! that was a narsty shave for +your uncle!"</p> + +<p>The big man beside him grunted and +shifted half an inch of dead cigarette +from one corner of his mouth to the +other. "You can 'old my 'and," said +he with a grin.</p> + +<p>Four or five places up the trench a +man stumbled to his knee, coughed +with a rush of blood and toppled over +dead.</p> + +<p>"Dahn and aht," said the big man +gruffly. "Gawd! If we could get at +'em!"</p> + +<p>The wail of a distant shell rose to a +shriek and the explosion was instantaneous. +The little man suddenly went +limp and his rifle rolled down the bank +of the trench.</p> + +<p>His friend looked at him with +unspeakable anguish. "Got it—in the +perishing neck this time, Bill," gasped +the little man.</p> + +<p>Bill leaned over and propped his pal's +head on his shoulder. A large dark +stain was saturating the wounded man's +tunic and he lay very still.</p> + +<p>"Bill," very faintly; then, with surprise, +"Blimey! 'E's blubbing! Poor +old Bill!"</p> + +<p>The big man was shaking with +strangled sobs. For some moments he +held his friend close, and it was the +dying man who spoke first.</p> + +<p>"Are we dahn-'earted?" he said. +The whisper went along the line and +swelled into a roar.</p> + +<p>The big man choked back his sobs. +"No, old pal, no!" he answered, +and "No-o-o-o!" roared the line in +unison.</p> + +<p>The little man lay back with a contented +sigh. "No," he repeated, and +closed his eyes for ever.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE SOUTHDOWNS.</h2> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The Grey Men of the South</p> +<p class="i2">They look to glim of seas,</p> +<p class="i0">This gentle day of drouth</p> +<p class="i2">And sleepy Autumn bees,</p> +<p class="i0">Pale skies and wheeling hawk</p> +<p class="i2">And scent of trodden thyme,</p> +<p class="i0">Brown butterflies and chalk</p> +<p class="i2">And the sheep-bells' chime.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The Grey Men they are old,</p> +<p class="i2">Ah, very old they be;</p> +<p class="i0">They've stood upside the wold</p> +<p class="i2">Since all eternity;</p> +<p class="i0">They standed in a ring</p> +<p class="i2">And the elk-bull roared to them</p> +<p class="i0">When <span class="sc">Solomon</span> was king</p> +<p class="i2">In famed Jerusalem.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="sc">King Solomon</span> was wise;</p> +<p class="i2">He was <span class="sc">King David's</span> son;</p> +<p class="i0">He lifted up his eyes</p> +<p class="i2">To see his hill-tops run;</p> +<p class="i0">And his old heart found cheer,</p> +<p class="i2">As yours and mine may do</p> +<p class="i0">On these grey days, my dear,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor'-East of Piddinghooe.</p> +</div></div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2> + +<center>"THE COST."</center> + +<p><i>Mr. Samuel Woodhouse</i>, of the middle +classes, being anxious to distract +his son <i>John</i> during the critical moments +of <i>Mrs. John's</i> confinement, +relates how, in similar circumstances +more directly affecting himself, he had +been playing tennis, and the strain of +the crisis had quite put him off his +game. The little jest is, of course, +adapted from the familiar lines:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"I was playing golf the day<br /> + When the Germans landed ..."</p></blockquote> + +<p>It is of material interest not so much +because it is borrowed (for it is not the +only joke that Mr. <span class="sc">Thurston</span> has conveyed) +as because it serves as a brief epitome +of the play. For the thing started +with the War, and we were getting on +quite well with it when an element of +obstetrics was introduced and became +inextricably interwoven with the original +design. Indeed it went further +and affected the destinies of the country +at large. For England had to wait till +the baby was born before it could +secure its father's services as the most +unlikely recruit in the kingdom.</p> + +<p>But you must hear more about this +<i>John</i>. He was an intellectual who +threatened to achieve the apex of +literary renown with a work in two +volumes (a third was to follow) on the +Philosophy of Moral Courage. At the +outbreak of the present war he was at +once torn asunder between his duty to +his country and his duty to himself. The +latter seemed to have the greater claim +upon him, and this view was encouraged +by an officer who found himself +billeted upon the Woodhouse +<i>ménage</i>. The dilemma had already worried +<i>John</i> (and us) a good deal even before +the extension of the age limit made him +roughly eligible for the army. Indeed +I never quite gathered what it was +that ultimately decided him to enlist. +Anyhow, six months later he received +a bullet in the head, and the wound, +though I am glad to say that he survived +it, left him incapable of any +further intellectual strain.</p> + +<p>That was "the cost" of the war to +him. Its cost to us (in the play) was +almost as heavy. For <i>John's</i> head still +retained such a command of brain power +that he contrived to be very fluent over +his theories of war in general, theories +not likely to be of any vital service at a +time when our men of fighting age are +wanted to act and not think.</p> + +<p>I give little for Mr. <span class="sc">Thurston's</span> generalities +(his talk of "hysteria," which +was never a British foible, showed his +lack of elementary observation), but +the character of <i>John</i> intrigued me as +a fair example of the type of egoist, +very common among quite good fellows, +who is more concerned to satisfy his +own sense of the proper thing to do +than to consider in what way, less +romantic perhaps, he can best devote +to the service of his country the gifts +with which nature has endowed him.</p> + +<p>The play went very well for the first +two Acts. The various members of +the <i>Woodhouse</i> family were excellently +differentiated. The father (played with +admirable humour by Mr. <span class="sc">Frederick +Ross</span>) bore bravely the shock to his +trade, and took a manly but quite ineffectual +part in household duties for +which he had no calling. His lachrymose +wife (Miss <span class="sc">Mary Rorke</span>) was a +sound example of the worst possible +mother of soldiers. <i>John</i> we know, and +Mr. <span class="sc">Owen Nares</span> knew him too, and very +thoroughly. <i>John's</i> wife (I can't think +how she came to marry him) had the +makings of an Amazon and would +gladly have spared her husband for +<span class="sc">Kitchener's</span> Army at the earliest moment. +Her part was played very +sincerely and charmingly by Miss +<span class="sc">Barbara Everest</span>. <i>John's</i> eldest +sister regretted the war because she +had some nice friends in Germany, but +she caught the spirit of menial service +from her sisters, of whom the younger +was a stage-flapper of the loudest. Finally +the second son (Mr. <span class="sc">Jack Hobbs</span>) +was a nut who began with his heart in +his socks but shifted it later into the +enemy's trench.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the best performance of all—though +it had little to do with the +war and nothing to do with child-birth—was +that of Miss <span class="sc">Hannah Jones</span> as +<i>Mrs. Pinhouse</i>, a perfect peach of a +cook. There were also two characters +played off. One was a maid-servant +who declined to come to family prayers +on the ground of other distractions. I +admired her courage. The other was +<i>Michael</i>, the precious infant whose +entry into the world had occupied so +much of our evening. Everybody on +the stage had to have a look at him. +I felt no such desire. He bored me.</p> + +<p>For a play that made pretence to a +serious purpose there was far too much +time thrown away on mere trivialities. +At first the exigencies of the stage +demanded compression. The news of +the ultimatum to Germany, the mobilisation, +the rush to enlist, the attack +on Germany's commerce, were all +stuffed into the space of a few +minutes. But the whole of the Third +Act (laid in the kitchen) was wantonly +wasted over the thinnest of domestic +humour.</p> + +<p>There is a light side, thank Heaven, +even to war; but Mr. <span class="sc">Thurston</span> had a +great chance of doing serious good and +he has only half used it. I am certain +(though he may call me a prig for saying +it) that if he had set himself to +serve his country's cause through the +great influence which the theatre commands, +he could have done better work +than this; and he ought to have done it.</p> + +<p class="author">O. S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Ambassadors' Theatre is producing +a triple bill which includes a +"miniature revue" entitled <i>Odds and +Ends</i>. The cost of the production may +be gathered from the following note in +the preliminary announcement:—</p> + +<blockquote>"N.B.—Mr. <span class="sc">C. B. Cochran</span> has spared +no economy in mounting this Revue."</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<h2>LITERARY GOSSIP.</h2> + +<p>Among the more notable novels announced +for immediate publication is +<i>The Man in the Platinum Mask</i> by +Samson Wolf (Black and Crosswell). +By a curious and wholly undesigned +coincidence the name of the hero is +<span class="sc">Attila</span>, while a further touch of +actuality is lent to the romance by the +fact that the author's aunt's first +husband fought in the Italian War of +Independence.</p> + +<p>Another story strangely opportune +in its title, which was however chosen +many months ago, is <i>With Nelson in +the North</i> by Hector Boffin (Arrow and +Long-i'-th'-bow). Its appeal to the +patriotic reader will be further enhanced +by the interesting news that +the author's wife's maiden name was +Collingwood, while he himself is a +great admirer of <span class="sc">Hardy</span>.</p> + +<p>The same publishers also announce +a Life of <span class="sc">Attila</span> by Principal McTavish, +which was completed last March before +the name of the redoubtable Hun had +come so prominently before the public—- another +instance of the intelligent anticipation +which is the characteristic of +the best and most selling <i>littérateurs</i>.</p> + +<p>Few writers of romance appeal to the +generous youth more effectively than +the Countess Corezeru, from whose +exhilarating pen we are promised a +tale of the Napoleonic era under the +engaging title of <i>The Green Dandelion</i> +(Merry and Bright). The pleasurable +expectations of her myriad readers will +be heightened when they learn the +interesting fact that the Countess recently +visited Constantinople, where +such thrilling happenings have lately +been in progress.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"The Petrograd correspondent of the +'Mesaggero' telegraphs that the Austro-German +Army was yesterday completely defeated +in the neighbourhood of Warsaw, and suffered +unanimous losses."</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author">—<i>Liverpool Echo.</i></p> + +<p>Carried, in fact, <i>nem. con.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/345.png"> +<img src="images/345.png" width="100%" alt="'Av yer seen any Germans about 'ere?" /></a> + +<p><i>Boy Scout.</i> "<span class="sc">'Xcuse me, mum. 'Av yer seen any Germans about 'ere?</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER.</h2> + +<center>No. V.</center><br /> + +<center>(<i>From <span class="sc">Albert</span>, King of the Belgians.</i>)</center> + +<p><span class="sc">Sir</span>,—This comes to you from France. Hospitably received +and nobly treated by the great and chivalrous French +nation I must yet remember that I am an exile on a foreign +soil, that my country has been laid waste and that my people, +so laborious, so frugal and so harmless, have seen their homes +destroyed and have themselves been driven ruthlessly forth +to cold and hunger and despair.</p> + +<p>Yes, your designs on Belgium have been accomplished—for +the time. A people of sixty-five millions has prevailed +against a people of seven millions; a great army has overwhelmed +a little army; careful schemes long since prepared +have outmatched a trustfulness which you and your Ministers +fostered in order that in the dark you might be able to +strike a felon's blow with safety to yourself. No considerations +of honour hindered you. Indeed, I do not know +how I can bring myself to mention that word to one who +has acted as you have acted. If I do so it is in order that +I may tell you that for an Emperor (or any other man) to +be honourable it is not enough that he should have great +possessions, glittering silver armour, and armies obedient +to their War Lord's commands. It is not enough that he +should make resounding speeches and call God to witness +that he is His friend. It is not even enough that he should +succeed in carrying through his plans, and earn the +applause of those flatterers who, agreeing with you, believe +that an Emperor crowned with success and capable of +bestowing favours can do no wrong. No, there must be +something more than this. What that something is I will +not discuss with you. To do so would be useless, for, since +you will never possess it, you can never satisfy yourself +that I am right.</p> + +<p>And even in regard to this "Success" with which you +comfort yourself are you so perfectly sure of it? How do +you feel when you call <span class="sc">von Moltke</span> to you and question +him about the progress of the war?</p> + +<p>"How goes it," you say to him, "in the East?" +"We hope," he replies, "to hold the Russians in check, +but they are very numerous and very brave." +"Presumptuous villains! And in the West?" +"In the West the French and English," he says, "still +bear up against us. They have thrust us back day after day." +"May they perish! But, at any rate, there is Belgium. +Yes, we have crushed Belgium and taught the Belgians +what it means to defy our Majesty." And <span class="sc">von Moltke</span>, +no doubt, will murmur something that may pass for +approval and will withdraw from the conference.</p> + +<p>I believe you admire <span class="sc">Shakspeare</span>. Do you remember +what <i>Macbeth</i> says?</p> + +<blockquote><p>"If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well<br /> +It were done quickly: if th' assassination<br /> +Could trammel up the consequence, and catch<br /> +With his surcease, success; that but this blow<br /> +Might be the be-all and the end-all here."</p></blockquote> + +<p>But that it cannot be. Blows have their consequences, +immediate and remote. You first, and then your memory, +will be stained to all generations by this deed of treachery +and blood. How have you excused it? "With necessity, +the tyrant's plea." You had to hack your way through, +you said, and it was on my people that your battle-axe fell. +So when Louvain was burnt and its inhabitants were shot +down you assured the <span class="sc">President of the United States</span> +that your heart bled for what "necessity" had forced you +to do. President <span class="sc">Wilson</span> is a man of high principles and +deep feelings. I wonder how he looked and how he felt +when he read your whimpering appeal.</p> + +<p>You have destroyed Belgium, but Belgium will rise +again; and, even if fate should ordain that Belgium is to +be for ever wiped away, so long as one Belgian is left alive +there will be a heart to execrate you and a voice to denounce +your deeds.</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Albert R.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> + +<h2>THE SURPRISE.</h2> + +<center><span class="sc">A Sequel to "The Choice."</span></center> + +<p>Mr. Julius Bannockburn hung up his +hat with a bang and stepped angrily +into the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bannockburn was comfortably +seated in an arm-chair, with the tea-table +at her side and a fire blazing.</p> + +<p>"That's right," she said placidly, +ignoring her husband's very obvious +mental disarray,—"just in time for a +cup of tea."</p> + +<p>"No tea for me," he said darkly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. It'll do you good," she +replied, and poured some out.</p> + +<p>"By the way, how much do you +give for this tea?" Mr. Bannockburn +sharply inquired.</p> + +<p>"Two-and-eight," she replied.</p> + +<p>He grunted. "I get excellent tea in +the City which retails at two shillings +a pound," he said. "Better than this."</p> + +<p>"Well, dear," said Mrs. Bannockburn, +"you don't often have this. This is my +tea. You prefer Indian."</p> + +<p>"And why so many different kinds +of cake?" Mr. Bannockburn went on.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't grudge me those?" +she answered. "Surely, even with the +war, little things like that might go +on?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Bannockburn sent his eyes round +the room on a tour of critical exploration.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he continued, "and how can +you do with a fire—at any rate such a +fire—on a day like this? The room is +like an oven." He scowled murderously +at the innocent flames and opened the +window.</p> + +<p>"I felt distinctly chilly," said Mrs. +Bannockburn. "Besides, a fire is so +much more cheerful."</p> + +<p>"Cheerful!" said Mr. Bannockburn +with a snarl. "I'm glad something is +cheerful."</p> + +<p>"My dear," said his wife soothingly, +"you're over-worried. You've had a +hard day at the office. But I've got +something to show you that will make +you happy again." She smiled gaily.</p> + +<p>"Happy!" Mr. Bannockburn echoed +with abysmal bitterness. "Happy!" +He groaned.</p> + +<p>"Yes, happy," said his wife. "Now +drink your tea," she added, "and then +light a cigar and tell me all about it."</p> + +<p>"Cigars!" said. Mr. Bannockburn; +"I've done with cigars. At any rate +with Havanas. We're on the brink +of ruin, I tell you."</p> + +<p>"Not any longer," said his wife with +a little confident laugh. "That's all +right now. Taking the new name was +to settle that, you know."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bannockburn was attempting to +eat a cake, but at these words he gave +it up. He struck a match angrily and +lit a cigar—a Havana. "Well, what +is it you want to show me?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"The cards," she said. "They look +splendid. Here," and she handed a +visiting-card across the table and drew +his attention to the delicate copper-plate +in which their new name had +been inscribed: "Mrs. Julius Bannockburn."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bannockburn scowled afresh. +"How many of these have you +ordered?" he asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Five hundred for each of us," she +replied. "And they're done. They all +came this morning."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bannockburn groaned again. +"What ridiculous haste!" he said. +"Where was all the hurry?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bannockburn laughed. "Well, +I must say!" she exclaimed. "You to +complain of things being done quickly! +I've done all you told me," she continued. +"Everything. I sent a notice +to the Post Office about the telephone +directory, telling them to alter the name. +I sent to <span class="sc">Kelly's</span> about the London +Directory. I told all the tradespeople. +I got the cards. I even went further +and ordered a few silver labels for your +walking-sticks and umbrellas. I thought +you would like that."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bannockburn puffed at his cigar +and said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Aren't I a good head clerk?" she +went on. "But, after all, when one +does change one's name it is wise to go +right through with it, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said her husband ominously, +"when one does change one's name."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Mrs. Bannockburn +asked sharply. "Has anything +gone wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Everything," he said. "I've had +a notice forbidding changes of name +altogether. Everyone has had it."</p> + +<p>"When did you get it?" his wife +inquired with a flutter.</p> + +<p>"To-day."</p> + +<p>"Then it's all right," she said excitedly. +"We made the change several +days ago."</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied her husband, "but the +notice goes on to say that everyone who +has changed since the war began must +revert to the name he had before the +war commenced. You can't get away +from that."</p> + +<p>"But we paid for it," Mrs. Bannockburn +exclaimed. "We paid for it. +Why did they take our money?"</p> + +<p>"They didn't know then," said her +lord. "It's only just decided by this +infernal Government."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bannockburn turned white. +"This is terrible," she said. "And +how unfair! How grossly unfair! It's +not as if we were Germans. I'm not +a German at all, and you are merely a +German's son, and British to the core. +Of course they'll give the money +back?"</p> + +<p>"It says nothing about that," replied +the Briton.</p> + +<p>"How very unlike England!" she +said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he agreed; "but the point is, +apart from the horrible expense of it +all, that here we are, saddled with a +name which is bound to keep customers +away and which we thought we had +got rid of for ever. It's horrible. It's +wrong. It's a shame." He paced the +room furiously.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bannockburn—or, as we now +should say, Mrs. Blumenbach—looked +in the fire for a few moments in silence. +"Well," she said at last, "we must +make the best of it, I suppose; we're +not paupers anyway, and things are +never so bad as one fears. After all, +we haven't been to so very much expense. +A few cards and so forth. You, +dear, can hardly have spent a penny +over it."</p> + +<p>"Eh," said Mr. Blumenbach sharply—"what?"</p> + +<p>"I said that the cost to which we +have gone since we changed our name +is very trifling," his wife repeated. +"You yourself have been put to no +expense at all, except perhaps office +paper."</p> + +<p>Mr. Blumenbach looked suspiciously +at her and resumed his walk. "No, +no," he said; "that's fortunate certainly."</p> + +<p>At this moment a servant entered +bringing the post, which included a +long roll of paper addressed to "Mrs. +Julius Bannockburn."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what this can be," she +remarked as she reached for a paper-knife.</p> + +<p>Her husband snatched it and held it +behind him. "Oh, I know all about +that," he said; "it's a mistake. It's +meant for me, not you."</p> + +<p>"But it's addressed to me," said his +wife. "Please let me have it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Blumenbach for a moment +flashed lightning. "Oh, all right," he +said, "take it. I might as well confess +to my folly, and, after all, I did it as a +pleasant surprise for you, even though +it's a failure. But I heard about some +heraldic fellow, and I got him to +draw me up a Bannockburn pedigree. +A Scotch one, you know. I was going +to have it framed in the hall. Burn +the thing without looking at it."</p> + +<p>"Was it—was it—very expensive?" +his wife asked tremblingly.</p> + +<p>"Fifty pounds," he said, half in pride +at his own recklessness and half as +though having a tooth out.</p> + +<p>"Fifty pounds!" Mrs. Blumenbach +moaned, and burst into tears.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/347.png"> +<img src="images/347.png" width="100%" alt="Lady, diligent reader of spy articles" /></a> +<p><i>Lady (diligent reader of spy articles and exposures of Anglo-German businesses) to alien window-cleaner.</i> "<span class="sc">Look here: you needn't +come any more.</span>"</p> +<p><i>Window Cleaner.</i> "<span class="sc">Endirely Bridisch Gombany, Lady.</span>"</p> +<p><i>Lady.</i> "<span class="sc">Yes, I daresay. But for all I know you might be part of the flower of the German Army.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<center>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</center> + +<p>I can imagine the feelings of a romantic maiden who, +prone to choose her novels by title, has set down on her +library list <i>The Price of Love</i> (<span class="sc">Methuen</span>), and finds herself +landed with one of Mr. <span class="sc">Arnold Bennett's</span> intimate little +guides to "Bursley" and the four other drab towns. And yet +if she will set her teeth and read the first fifty pages without +skipping she will discover that she is being let into real +secrets of real human hearts; that handsome <i>Rachel</i> (penniless +companion to a benign old lady), and her debonair +<i>Louis</i> (who somehow never can run straight where money +is concerned), are becoming known to her as she knows few, +if any, of her friends; and that, because known, they are +extraordinarily interesting. She will see <i>Rachel</i> drawn out +of the haven of her staunch and critical common sense by +her infatuation for <i>Louis</i>; threatened by the shipwreck of +despair when she realises his weakness and her irrevocable +mistake, and again putting into a new harbour of +determination to pay the price of her love and make the +best of things. And I should not be altogether surprised +if even our romantic library-subscriber finds the next live-happily-ever-after +story a little flat by comparison. For +there is no doubt that Mr. <span class="sc">Bennett</span> has some uncanny +power of realising the conflict of human souls, and that +there is an astonishingly adroit method in his mania for +unimportant and unromantic detail. I refuse altogether to +accept as adequate (or appropriate) his explanations of the +adventures of the banknotes on the night of their disappearance, +but I am grateful for every word and incident of this +enchanting chronicle and for the portrait of <i>Rachel</i> in +particular.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>Modern Pig-Sticking</i> (<span class="sc">Macmillan</span>) is a book that, appearing +at this particular moment, has an air of detachment +not without its own charm. Chiefly, of course, it appeals +to a special and limited public—a public, moreover, that is +at present too busy to give it the attention that it would +otherwise command. Certainly Major <span class="sc">A. E. Wardrop's</span> +spirited pages deserve to rank with the best that has been +written about this sport. As one frankly ignorant, I was +myself astonished to find how considerable a body is this +literature. As for the gallant Major's own contribution, it +is sufficiently well-written to make tales of sporting feats +and adventures interesting to the outsider. Which is saying +a lot. At the same time his sense of humour is sufficiently +strong to save enthusiasm from becoming oppressive. +Certainly he loves his theme, as I suppose a good pig-sticker +should. "To see hog and hunter charge each other bald-headed +with a simultaneous squeal of rage is," he says +youthfully, "always delightful." It is all, in these more +strenuous times, most refreshing and even a little wistful +in its <i>naïveté</i>. The honest and brave gentlemen whose +exploits it records are about another kind of pig-sticking +now. One hopes that practice with the Indian variety +may help them in their chase of the Uhlan road-hog. +Here's power to their spears!</p> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span> + +<p>For all his good humour, Mr. <span class="sc">Pett Ridge</span> can say a +hard thing now and then about humanity in general and +point it with a touch of startling sarcasm. Possibly it is +this combination which makes him the favourite author he +is. While we get tired of the harsh satirist who is always +up against us, and pay little attention to his teaching, we +not only profit by the occasional home truths of the genial +humourist, but thoroughly enjoy hearing them. Certainly +it is not Mr. <span class="sc">Ridge's</span> plots which so attract everybody, +including myself. <i>The Happy Recruit</i> (<span class="sc">Methuen</span>) might +as well (or even better) have been plotless. There is the +central figure, <i>Carl Siemens</i>, who comes to England from +abroad in his youth and has an +unremarkable career, and there is +a mysterious and rather tiresome +trunk which is mentioned from +time to time and finally opened; +but apart from these the book is +but a collection of little episodes +more or less about the same people, +the <i>Maynard</i> family in particular. +It is not the story that lends the +charm but the people who come +into it, that upper-lower section +of Londoners whose little peculiarities +of thought, word and deed +Mr. Ridge so perfectly understands. +Through their mouths he utters +his truest sayings, and they make +his books always worth reading. +It should be added that this one +has nothing to do with present +warfare; it is antedated by a reign +and a half. In this the title is +misleading, for there are so many +recruits about nowadays and all of +them are happy.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>After reading Messrs. <span class="sc">Hutchinson's</span> +announcement that the +critics describe Mr. <span class="sc">F. Bancroft</span> +as the most remarkable South +African novelist now at work, I +searched for a talent that was too +successfully hidden for my finding. +I was on the track of it two or +three times, and once at least the +scent was so hot that I thought +the quarry was mine; but it got +away. With <i>Dalliance and Strife</i> +the author completes a trilogy upon +the Boer War, but here we are given too much flirtation and +too little fighting. His liberality in the matter of heroines +compensates me not at all for his niggard accounts of the +war. That he himself should apparently take more interest +in dalliance than in strife seems to indicate sheer perversity, +for, when once he has ceased to toy with tennis-teas and +trivialities, it is possible to respect the opinions of those +admiring critics even if it is impossible to agree with +them. The little fighting and the few whiffs of the +veldt that we are given come as welcome reliefs to the +rather stuffy atmosphere that Mr. <span class="sc">Bancroft</span> has been +at such pains to create. The British officer in his hours +of dalliance is in his hands merely a figure of fun, but the +militant Boer in field and camp is a faithful picture, so faithful, +indeed, when contrasted with the other, that it leaves +me astounded at such a combination of skill and futility.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>Germaine Damien</i> was a little girl with considerable +force of character. Having been told by a Socialist shoemaker +that Squires were a mistake, she endeavoured to +correct this error by driving a large knife into the first +specimen of the race whom she met. This was <i>Miles +Burnside</i>, a decent young man enough, and one obviously +qualifying to be the hero of the story. So that when, quite +early in its course, <i>Germaine</i> caught him asleep and apparently +left him dead with a dagger in his heart, I was for +a little time considerably puzzled as to how Mrs. <span class="sc">Baillie +Reynolds</span> was going to get on with her tale. However, I +need not have worried. Of course <i>Miles</i> was not dead; +indeed the last six words of the book tell you that "His +smile was good to see." And +naturally he wouldn't have been +smiling like that if he had not +been enfolding the heroine in +his strong arms. But before this +happy moment we had a lot to get +through. <i>Miles</i> on recovery had +told the properly apologetic <i>Germaine</i> +that she must never, never +let anybody else know about the +dagger business, and she said she +wouldn't. Personally, if I had +been <i>Germaine</i>, I should have +done the same. Later in life, +reflecting upon this injunction, and +discovering that her grandfather +had also killed a man, <i>Germaine</i> +got it into her head that the habit +was inherited, and the idea worried +her quite dreadfully. This, I suppose, +is why her story is called <i>The +Cost of A Promise</i> (<span class="sc">Hodder and +Stoughton</span>). Eventually, however, +when the thing had gone on +long enough and the revelation of +her secret had scared away a superfluous +rival, <i>Miles</i> informed her +that her grandfather's record was +(forgive me!) not germane to the +matter, and that she was as sane +as anybody in the story. M'yes. +But Mrs. <span class="sc">Reynolds</span> has done +better.</p> + +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 45%"> +<a href="images/348.png"> +<img src="images/348.png" width="100%" alt="It 'tain't 'arf fine ter be a General" /></a><br /><br /> +<p>"<span class="sc">It 'tain't 'arf fine ter be a General, cos 'e +can call a bloke 'Pooden Fice,' an' 'ave 'im +shot if 'e sorces 'im back.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WILHELM.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"No good thing comes from out of Kaiserland,"</p> +<p class="i2">Says Phyllis; but beside the fire I note</p> +<p class="i2">One Wilhehm, sleek in tawny gold of coat,</p> +<p class="i0">Most satin-smooth to the caresser's hand.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">A velvet mien; an eye of amber, full</p> +<p class="i2">Of that which keeps the faith with us for life;</p> +<p class="i2">Lover of meal-times; hater of yard-dog strife;</p> +<p class="i0">Lordly, with silken ears most strokeable.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Familiar on the hearth, refuting her,</p> +<p class="i2">He sits, the antic-pawed, the proven friend,</p> +<p class="i2">The whimsical, the grave and reverend—</p> +<p class="i0">Wilhelm the Dachs from out of Hanover.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p>We are surprised to hear of police constables being accepted +for service abroad in view of the ban on the export of copper.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Austrians are being urged to send newspapers to the +front to serve as chest-protectors for the troops. If possible +the papers should be German, as these lie best.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. +147, October 21, 1914, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OCTOBER 21, 1914 *** + +***** This file should be named 28382-h.htm or 28382-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/3/8/28382/ + +Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Neville Allen, +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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