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diff --git a/28596-h/28596-h.htm b/28596-h/28596-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6170cc --- /dev/null +++ b/28596-h/28596-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3078 @@ +<!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 November 11, 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;} + 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;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + + .regards {text-align: right; + margin-right: 4em;} + + .salute {text-align: left; + margin-left: 2em;} + + div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */ + + + + pre {font-size: 75%; } + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, +November 11, 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, November 11, 1914 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: April 24, 2009 [EBook #28596] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>VOL. 147.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2><span class="sc">November 11, 1914.</span></h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span> + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p>"In Buenos Aires and other parts of +Argentina," <i>The Express</i> tells us, +"people are tired of the war, and a +brisk trade is being done in the sale of +buttons to be worn by the purchaser, +inscribed with the words '<i>No me habla +de la guerra</i>' ('Don't talk to me about +the war')." The <span class="sc">Kaiser</span>, we understand, +has now sent for one of these +buttons.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The Crown Prince <span class="sc">Rupprecht</span> of +Bavaria, in an order to his troops last +week, referred to the British in the +following words:—"Here is the enemy +which chiefly blocks the way in the +direction of restoration of peace." Conceive +a "contemptible little +army" being able to do that! +It makes one wonder whether +the first epithet was perhaps +a misprint for "contemptuous."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The Germans are now calling +the Allies a Menagerie, +though curiously enough it is +the others who have a Turkey +waddling after them.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>According to a report which +reaches us the crews of the +<i>Goeben</i> and <i>Breslau</i> are wearing +a most curious garb, being +clothed in Turkish fezes and +breaches of neutrality.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<center>"GERMANS MOWED DOWN<br /> +<span class="sc">French Marines' Big Feet</span>."</center> + +<p class="author"><i>Irish Independent.</i></p> + +<p>This is really a most unfortunate +misprint, for it is just +this kind of carping statement +that leads the Germans to say we are +falling out with our Allies.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>There is much speculation as to +whether there is German blackmail +behind the announcement that the +maximum period of quarantine for +imported dogs has been reduced from +six months to four.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The only animals left alive in the +Antwerp Zoo are reported to be the +elephants, which are now being used +for military traction purposes. Later +on it is proposed by the Germans to +drive them into the lines of the Indian +troops with a view to making the latter +home-sick.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Algernon Ashton</span> asks in <i>The +Evening News</i>, "Why is the Poet +Laureate so strangely silent?" +Everyone else will remember Mr. +<span class="sc">Bridges'</span> patriotic lines at the beginning +of the War, and we begin to suspect +that Mr. <span class="sc">Ashton's</span> well-known +repugnance to writing for the papers +has been extended to the reading of +them.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p><i>The Daily Mirror</i>, to signalise its +eleventh birthday, produced a "Monster +Number," yet it contained no portrait +of the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span>.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Happening to meet a music-hall +acquaintance we asked him how he +thought the war was going, and he +replied, "Oh, I think the managers +will have to give in."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>America is evidently attempting to +attract some of the devotees of winter +sports who usually go to Switzerland. +Another landslide on the Panama +Canal is now announced.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>We are sorry to have to bring a +charge of lack of gallantry against <i>The +Leicester Mail</i>. We refer to the following +passage in its description of an +ovation given to Driver <span class="sc">Osborne</span>, V.C., +at Derby on the 31st ult. After describing +how, in the course of a great +reception given to him by a large crowd +at the station, two or three buxom +matrons insisted upon embracing him, +our contemporary continues: "Driver +Osborne has now practically recovered, +and reports himself for duty again at +the end of this week."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The municipality of Berlin has decided +to substitute for the existing +designations of some of the principal +streets in that city the names of "German +generals who have become famous +during the present war." This, however, +will not involve many alterations.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Orders have been issued by the +Federal Council of the German Empire +that no bread other than that containing +from 5 to 20 per cent. of potato flour +will be allowed to be baked. Such +bread is to be sold under the name of +"K" bread. At first this was taken +to be a graceful tribute to Lord +<span class="sc">Kitchener</span>, but it is now officially +stated that "K" stands for the German +for potatoes.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The <i>Kölnische Zeitung</i> complains +that English prisoners in Germany +"are allowed to lead the lives of +Olympian Gods." Our choleric contemporary +is evidently unaware +that we are allowing +German prisoners to reside +in Olympia, which is the next +best thing to Olympus.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The British steamer <i>Remuera</i> +reported on reaching +Plymouth last week that a +German cruiser had attempted +to trap her by means of +a false S.O.S. signal. We +ought not, we suppose, to be +surprised at a low trick like +this from the s.o.s.sidges.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>There is one quality that +no one can with justice deny +to the Germans, and that is +thoroughness. The other +day, having laid a mine, +they seem to have used one +of their own cruisers to test +its destructive power.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"It is noticeable," says +<i>The Daily Mail</i>, "that the Kaiser's +speeches no longer include references +to God, only Frederick the Great." +This confirms the rumours of a quarrel.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/389.png"> +<img src="images/389.png" width="100%" alt="The Airship Menace." /></a> +<h4><span class="sc">The Airship Menace.</span></h4> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>Famous Town Captured by Germans.</h4> + +<blockquote><p>"In the south of Ypres we have lost some +points, D'Appui, Hollebeke, and Landvoorde."</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author"><i>Worcester Daily Times.</i></p> + +<p>If your map doesn't give D'Appui, +buy a more expensive one.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>"Capstan Hands.—First-class Men, used to +chucking work, for motor vehicle parts."</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author"><i>Advt. in "The Manchester Guardian."</i></p> + +<p>They ought to be easy enough to get.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>"Guardsmen again provided a dramatic +element in the trial by guarding the prisoner +and the door which fixed bayonets."</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author"><i>Evening News.</i></p> + +<p>You should see our arm-chair give the +salute.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span> + +<h2>TO THE SHIRKER: A LAST APPEAL.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Now of your free choice, while the chance is yours</p> +<p class="i2">To share their glory who have gladly died</p> +<p class="i0">Shielding the honour of our island shores</p> +<p class="i2">And that fair heritage of starry pride,—</p> +<p class="i0">Now, ere another evening's shadow falls,</p> +<p class="i4">Come, for the trumpet calls.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">What if to-morrow through the land there runs</p> +<p class="i2">This message for an everlasting stain?—</p> +<p class="i0">"England expected each of all her sons</p> +<p class="i2">To do his duty—but she looked in vain;</p> +<p class="i0">Now she demands, by order sharp and swift,</p> +<p class="i4">What should have been a gift."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">For so it must be, if her manhood fail</p> +<p class="i2">To stand by England in her deadly need;</p> +<p class="i0">If still her wounds are but an idle tale</p> +<p class="i2">The word must issue which shall make you heed;</p> +<p class="i0">And they who left her passionate pleas unheard</p> +<p class="i4">Will <i>have</i> to hear that word.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And, losing your free choice, you also lose</p> +<p class="i2">Your right to rank, on Memory's shining scrolls,</p> +<p class="i0">With those, your comrades, who made haste to choose</p> +<p class="i2">The willing service asked of loyal souls;</p> +<p class="i0">From all who gave such tribute of the heart</p> +<p class="i4">Your name will stand apart.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I think you cannot know what meed of shame</p> +<p class="i2">Shall be their certain portion who pursue</p> +<p class="i0">Pleasure "as usual" while their country's claim</p> +<p class="i2">Is answered only by the gallant few.</p> +<p class="i0">Come, then, betimes, and on her altar lay</p> +<p class="i4">Your sacrifice to-day!</p> +</div></div> + +<p class="author">O. S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER.</h2> + +<center>No. VII.</center> + +<center>(<i>From the <span class="sc">President of the French Republic</span>.</i>)</center> + +<p class="author"><i>Bordeaux.</i></p> + +<p>Sire,—You will pardon me, I know, if for a moment I +break in upon the serious occupations and meditations in +which your time must be spent. I like to picture you to +myself in the midst of your Staff, working out for them and +your armies great problems of strategy and devising those +movements which, so far, have overwhelmed not your foes +so much as the minds of your fellow-countrymen. You +too, Sire, sanguine and impetuous as is your nature, are no +doubt beginning to realise that a great nation—let us say +France, for example—is not to be overcome by mere +shouting and the waving of sabres, or by the making of +impassioned speeches in which God, having been acclaimed +as an ally, is encouraged to perform miracles for the benefit +of the Prussian arms. I do not deny that your soldiers +are brave and that your armies are well equipped; but our +Frenchmen too have guns and bayonets and swords and +shells and know how to make use of them, and their +portion of courage is no smaller than that of the Prussians, +or even of the Bavarians whom you have lately been +vaunting. Moreover—and this you had perhaps over-looked—they +have something which is deadlier and more +enduring than shot and shell and steel—the unconquerable +spirit which leaps up in the hearts of men who are gathered +to defend their country from invasion and their national +existence from destruction.</p> + +<p>Oh, Sire, how little you have understood France and her +people; how little you have understood the minds and +motives of men! "France," your Professors and your +Generals told you, "is degenerate; her population is smaller +than ours; she has lost her skill in fighting and her courage; +she has no culture, never having heard of <span class="sc">Treitschke</span> and +having neglected the inspired writings of <span class="sc">Nietzsche</span>; she +will be an easy prey, for no one will lift a hand to help her. +England is lapped in ease behind her ocean and will never +fight again; Russia is distant and slow, and we can despise +her; Belgium will never dare to deny us anything we care +to ask. Let us make haste, then, and crush France to the +earth for ever." So you planned, and your legions set out +to trample us down, with the result that is now before the +eyes of the world.</p> + +<p>Only a few words more. There is at Sampigny, in +Lorraine, a modest country-house, which was, in fact, my +home. Your troops passed through the place, and for no +military reason that I can discover they reduced this house +to ruins. I know that that is a small price to pay for the +honour of being allowed to represent the French nation in +this hour of peril and glory, and I pay it willingly. When +so many are laying down their lives with joy why should I +complain because a few walls have been shattered? But I +am reminded and I wish to remind you of another story. +One hundred and eight years ago, in October, the Great +<span class="sc">Napoleon</span>, having scattered your predecessor's armies to the +four winds of heaven, proceeded to Potsdam, where he +visited the tomb of the great <span class="sc">Frederick</span>. They showed him +the dead King's sword, his belt and his cordon of the Black +Eagle. These Napoleon took, with the intention of sending +them to Paris, to be presented to the <i>Invalides</i>, amongst +whom there still lingered a few who had been defeated by +<span class="sc">Frederick</span> at Rosbach. Certainly the relics took no shame +from such a seizure and such a guardianship. But the +palace at Potsdam was not destroyed and stands to this +day. I do not wish to liken myself to <span class="sc">Frederick</span>, nor do I +compare you with <span class="sc">Napoleon</span>, but I tell you the story, which +is true, for what it is worth. I wonder if you will appreciate +it?</p> + +<p>Agree, Sire, the expression of my distinguished consideration.</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Raymond Poincaré.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE IRON CROSS.</h2> + +<center>(For German looters.)</center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">[<i>In tempi barbari e più feroci</i></p> +<p class="i0"><i>S' appiccavan' i ladri in sulle croci;</i></p> +<p class="i0"><i>In tempi men barbari e più leggiadri</i></p> +<p class="i0"><i>S' appiccano le croci in petto ai ladri.</i>—<span class="sc">Giust</span>.]</p> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">In former ferocious and barbarous times,</p> +<p class="i0">The thief was hung up on the cross for his crimes,</p> +<p class="i0">But Culture to savages offers relief—</p> +<p class="i0">The cross is now hung on the breast of the thief.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>"Amended and more stringent regulations concerning the lights +of London have been issued by Sir E. R. Henry, the Commissioner +of Police. A number of them are in the same terms as those which +were published in <i>The Globe</i> nearly a month ago, but others make +important changes. For example, the third order, as originally +drafted, ran: 'The intensity of the inside lighting of shop fronts +must be reduced from 6 p.m. or earlier if the Commissioner of Police +on any occasion so directs,' but it is now as follows:—</p></blockquote> + +<p>The intensity of the inside lighting of shop fronts must be +reduced <i>from 6 p.m. or earlier if the Commissioner of Police on any +occasion so directs</i>."—<i>Globe.</i></p> + +<p>The italics ought to make it a lot darker.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Gifts of money for the purchase of blankets are being +made in Germany not less than here, and we understand +that a large sum has been sent out to South Africa +addressed: "De Wet Blanket Fund."</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/391.png"> +<img src="images/391.png" width="100%" alt="HIS MASTER'S VOICE." /></a> +<h4>HIS MASTER'S VOICE.</h4> +<p><span class="sc">The Kaiser</span> (<i>to Turkey, reassuringly</i>). "LEAVE EVERYTHING TO ME. ALL YOU'VE GOT TO +DO IS TO EXPLODE."</p> +<p><span class="sc">Turkey.</span> "YES, I QUITE SEE THAT. BUT WHERE SHALL <i>I</i> BE WHEN IT'S ALL OVER?"</p> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/393.png"><br /><br /> +<img src="images/393.png" width="100%" alt="Talkative Passenger." /></a> +<p><i>Talkative Passenger.</i> "<span class="sc">I see that the young Earl of Harboro' has just done a very plucky act at the front.</span>"</p> +<p><i>Rabid Socialist</i> (<i>indignantly</i>). "<span class="sc">Well, so he ought.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE MISUSED TALENT.</h2> + +<center>(<i>A mild apostrophe to the young man next door.</i>)</center> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Augustus! ever prone at eve to gurgle a</p> +<p class="i2">Melodious distych from the music-halls,</p> +<p class="i0">Piping in summer from beneath a pergola,</p> +<p class="i2">Piping to-day behind these party-walls,</p> +<p class="i0">Three months ago and more, when Mars had thrust us</p> +<p class="i2">In doubt and dread alarm and cannons' mist,</p> +<p class="i0">I found one solace, for I mused, "Augustus</p> +<p class="i6">Will probably enlist.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"I know not what his dreams of glory may be,</p> +<p class="i2">I know not if his heart is full of grit,</p> +<p class="i0">But I do know that he disturbs the baby,</p> +<p class="i2">And, judging by his lungs, he must be fit;</p> +<p class="i0">His is the frame, or else I've never seen one,</p> +<p class="i2">His are the fitting years to fight and roam,</p> +<p class="i0">He has no ties (except that pink and green one)</p> +<p class="i6">To tether him to home.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"When he returns he'll possibly be sager;</p> +<p class="i2">If not (for glory of his long campaign)</p> +<p class="i0">We shall be thrilled to hear the sergeant-major</p> +<p class="i2">Singing the good old songs he loved again;</p> +<p class="i0">Bellona, too, has something of the witch in her;</p> +<p class="i2">It may be he will learn more tact and grace</p> +<p class="i0">When that mild tenor has been turned by <span class="sc">Kitchener</span></p> +<p class="i6">Into a throaty bass."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Thus jestingly I dreamed. And now, Caruso,</p> +<p class="i2">You have not budged one inch upon the road;</p> +<p class="i0">While half the lads have got their khaki trousseau,</p> +<p class="i2">You still retain that voice and nut-like mode;</p> +<p class="i0">Peace holds you with the tightness of a grapnel,</p> +<p class="i2">And, still adhering to her ample hem,</p> +<p class="i0">You enfilade us with your tuney shrapnel</p> +<p class="i6">From 9 to 12 <span class="sc">P.M.</span></p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">So here's my ultimatum. Though it loosens</p> +<p class="i2">The kindly bonds that neighbours ought to keep,</p> +<p class="i0">I'll take a summons out to curb the nuisance</p> +<p class="i2">Unless you stop it. Can I laugh or weep</p> +<p class="i0">For those who fling their challenge at the blighting gale,</p> +<p class="i2">Who smile to hear the cannon's murderous croon,</p> +<p class="i0">When you go on like a confounded nightingale</p> +<p class="i6">Under a fat-faced moon?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The streets are darkened now that once were ringing</p> +<p class="i2">Through all the lamp-lit hours with festal fuss,</p> +<p class="i0">And songs are changed, and so's the time for singing,</p> +<p class="i2">But I'd be greatly pleased to hear you, Gus,</p> +<p class="i0">Out in the road there, watched by Anns and Maries,</p> +<p class="i2">Op'ning your throttle to the mid-day light;</p> +<p class="i0">Fate gave it you to prove that Tipperary's</p> +<p class="i6">A long way off. <i>Left—Right!</i></p> +</div></div> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Evoe.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p>We commend <i>The Pioneer</i> to the notice of our evening +contemporaries. Its "Extraordinary War Special"—price, +one anna—consists of the following:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"No Reuter received since 8.30 a.m."</p></blockquote> + +<p>A more enterprising paper, such as <i>The</i> —— or <i>The</i> —— +[<i>censored</i>] would have provided some new headlines from +yesterday's news.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span> + +<h2>TOMMY BROWN, PATRIOT.</h2> + +<center>II.</center> + +<p>Tommy Brown has already been in +disgrace, although it is only a fortnight +since he wrote the famous patriotic +essay which determined Mr. Smith, +his Form-master, to go to the Front. +You see, Miss Price, who is deputising +for Mr. Smith, does not like lizards, +and has an especial aversion to white +rats, whereas Tommy is very fond of +these and other dumb animals.</p> + +<p>So Tommy was reported to the +Headmaster. At first the Headmaster +thought that the application of "somewhat +severe measures, my boy," would +meet the case; but whoever +heard of caning a curly-headed +boy with blue eyes and an ink-stain +on both lips? The interview +took place in the Headmaster's +study. To the question, +"What do you mean, Sir, +by bringing lizards and white +rats to school?" Tommy said, +"Yes, Sir," and then, after +thinking for fully three seconds, +he said he had a ferret at +home, and did the Headmaster +know how to hold a ferret so +that it couldn't bite you?</p> + +<p>It seems that ferrets, if they +once get hold of your thumb, +never let go—<i>not never</i>—and +that you have to force their +jaws open with a penholder; +also ferrets exhibit a marked +preference for thumbs. All this +information Tommy conveyed +without drawing a breath. The +Headmaster said, "Quite so, my +boy, quite so. But don't you +know it is extremely reprehensible +conduct to bring animals +to school in your pocket?" +Well, you see, that is how +Tommy's mother talks to him, +so he knew what to do, and, looking +up into the Headmaster's face with +that wistful look of his, he imparted +the deep secret that he had a tortoise.</p> + +<p>Tortoises, the Headmaster learnt, +had a way of getting lost among the +cabbages, but, if you wanted to prevent +them from straying, all you had to do +was to turn them over on their backs +and put a piece of brown paper over them +for their feet to play with. Also they +were stuck fast in their shells, because +Tommy had tried. A boy had told +Tommy that tortoises laid eggs, but +although Tommy had showed his tortoise +a hen's egg and then put the +tortoise in a nice new nest the tortoise +had taken no step in the matter.</p> + +<p>However, Tommy promised never to +bring any more animals to school and +to express his sorrow to Miss Price. +And he was richer by sixpence when +the interview closed.</p> + +<p>At parting, Tommy offered to lend +the Headmaster his tortoise for a week, +and told him that, if he stood for a +whole hour on its back, it wouldn't +hurt it, because Tommy had trained it; +also it never crawled out of your +pocket.</p> + +<p>Tommy apologised to Miss Price +for bringing the white rats to school—they +weren't white rats really, not +to look at; they were rather piebald +through constant association with ink. +Also he brought an apple and showed +her how, by holding it a certain way +whilst eating it, she would miss the +bad part. In further sign of amity he +showed her his knife, and especially +that instrument in it which was used +for removing stones from horses' hoofs. +Not that Tommy had removed many +stones from horses' hoofs, not very +many, but if you had a tooth that was +loose it was very helpful. Miss Price +gave him a new threepenny bit, and +Tommy tried hard to please her in +arithmetic by reducing inches to +pounds, shillings and pence.</p> + +<p>With nine-pence in his pocket Tommy +felt uneasy. It was a question between +a lop-eared rabbit and a mouth-organ. +A lop-eared rabbit, that is to say a +proper one, cost two shillings; for nine-pence +it was probable that you could +only get a rabbit which would lop with +one ear.</p> + +<p>Besides, a lop-eared rabbit meant a +hutch, and he had already used the +cover of his mother's sewing-machine +for the piebald rats.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, you could get a +mouth-organ with a bell on it for nine-pence; +he knew.</p> + +<p>It was a splendid instrument!</p> + +<p>Tommy took it to bed with him and +put it under his pillow, and when his +mother came to see that he was all right +at night his hand was clutched round +it as he slept content.</p> + +<p>The next day Tommy gave an organ +recital in the playground before a +large and enthusiastic audience. For +a marble he would let you blow it +while he held it. For two marbles you +could hold it yourself.</p> + +<p>One boy paid the two marbles, +and noticed the words +"Made in Germany" in small +letters on the under side. The +silence that followed the announcement +of this discovery +was broken only by the sound +of Jones minor biting an apple. +All eyes were on Tommy Brown. +For the fraction of a second he +hesitated, and in that fraction +Brook tertius giggled.</p> + +<p>Tommy seized the mouth-organ +with a determination that +was almost ferocious; he threw +it on the ground, stamped on +it with his heel again and +again, and finally took and +pitched it into a neighbouring +garden. He then fell upon +Brook tertius and punched him +until he howled.</p> + +<p>Before Tommy Brown could +go to sleep that night his +mother had to sit by his bed-side +and hold his hand; he +never released her hand until +he was fast asleep. How like +his father (the V.C.) he looked! +She wondered what made him +toss so in his sleep and what had +become of his mouth-organ with the +bell on it.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/394.png"> +<img src="images/394.png" width="100%" alt="HOW TO BRING UP A HUN." /></a> +<h4>HOW TO BRING UP A HUN.</h4> +<center><span class="sc">The Teutonic substitute for Milk</span>.</center> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>"<span class="sc">French President at the Font</span>."</h4> + +<p class="author"><i>Leicester Daily Mercury.</i></p> +<p>Where he received his baptism of fire?</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>"German infantry on the morning of the +5th ventured an assault and were repulsed by +blithering fire."—<i>Pioneer.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>Some of their Professors should be able +to do good work in the blithering line.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>"Reuter's agency learns that according to +an official telegram received in London Turkish +vessels have entered the open port of +Odessa and bombarded Russian ships.</p> +<p>6 to 1 agst Cheerful, 7 to 1 agst Flippant."</p></blockquote> +<p class="author"><i>South Wales Echo.</i></p> +<p>Not at all; we remain both.</p> + +<hr /> +<p style="clear: both;"> </p> + +<div class="centered"> +<table summary="cartoon"> +<tr><td> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 90%"> +<a href="images/395a.png"> +<img src="images/395a.png" width="100%" alt="A perfect fit" /></a></div></td> +<td><div class="figcenter" style="width: 90%"> +<a href="images/395b.png"> +<img src="images/395b.png" width="100%" alt="After a week's drill" /></a></div></td></tr> +<tr><td><center><i>Scene I.</i> <span class="sc">A perfect fit</span>.</center></td> +<td><center><i>Scene II.</i> <span class="sc">After a week's drill</span>.</center></td></tr> +</table> +<h4>WHAT OUR TAILOR HAS TO PUT UP WITH.</h4></div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span> +<hr /> + +<h2>BEGBIE REBUKED.</h2> +<p>Fleet Street was thrilled to the +depths of its deepest inkpot last week +when it read in <i>The Daily Chronicle</i> +of the historic meeting between Mr. +<span class="sc">Harold Begbie</span> and Mr. <span class="sc">W. J. Bryan</span> +in New York. The sensation was +caused not so much by the announcement +that Mr. <span class="sc">Bryan</span> "has the long +mouth of the orator, the lips swelling +and protruding as he speaks, thinning +and compressing when he is silent," or +that "the full and heavy neck, which +seems to be part of the face, is corded +with muscles," although either of those +statements is startling enough. Nor +was it Mr. <span class="sc">Begbie's</span> struggle to decide +whether he should devote his attention +to the great statesman or to the railway +station in which they met, the +statesman being selected only just in +time. No, what nearly stopped the +clock of St. Bride's church was this +paragraph in Mr. <span class="sc">Begbie's</span> record of +the event: "At this point I asked quite +innocently, and with a real desire for +information, an obvious but indiscreet +question, which Mr. <span class="sc">Bryan</span> rebuked me +for asking, reminding me that he was +a member of the Government."</p> + +<p>What a subject for an Academy +painting in oils! Or, if <span class="sc">Milton</span> had been +living at this hour, how he would have +immortalised the touching scene!</p> + +<p>A desire to present to our readers +some fuller details of this world-staggering +event prompted us to cable +to a few correspondents in New York. +One cables back: "The scene was +dramatic in the extreme. The journalist, +his big blue eyes brimming with +innocence, gently breathed his question, +when the great statesman shook his +shaggy mane and roared out his rebuke +like a lion in pain. The journalist's +apologetic gesture was one of the most +delicate things I have ever seen."</p> + +<p>Another tells us:—"When Mr. +<span class="sc">Begbie</span> put his question so great a stillness +reigned throughout the crowded +railway station that you could have +heard a goods-train shunt." Mr. <span class="sc">Bryan</span> +looked long and earnestly at the journalist, +then, placing his hand affectionately +on his shoulder, he said to him +in a throbbing voice, "Oh, <span class="sc">Harold</span>, +how can you?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>"The Incorrigibles."</h4> + +<blockquote><p>"The enemy made attacks, but each effort +was repulsed with great laughter."</p></blockquote> +<p class="author"><i>—Star.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"One recalls in this connection the statement +made by Alexander the Great, that +Napoleon's invasion of Russia was defeated +not by the Cossacks, but by Generals January +and February."—<i>Stock Exchange Gazette.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>This reminds us of <span class="sc">Cæsar's</span> comment +on the sack of Louvain:—"<i>Magnificens +est, sed non bellum.</i>"</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WIRELESS.</h2> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">There sits a little demon</p> +<p class="i2">Above the Admiralty,</p> +<p class="i0">To take the news of seamen</p> +<p class="i2">Seafaring on the sea;</p> +<p class="i0">So all the folk aboard-ships</p> +<p class="i2">Five hundred miles away</p> +<p class="i0">Can pitch it to their Lordships</p> +<p class="i2">At any time of day.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The cruisers prowl observant;</p> +<p class="i2">Their crackling whispers go;</p> +<p class="i0">The demon says, "Your servant,"</p> +<p class="i2">And lets their Lordships know;</p> +<p class="i0">A fog's come down off Flanders?</p> +<p class="i2">A something showed off Wick?</p> +<p class="i0">The captains and commanders</p> +<p class="i2">Can speak their Lordships quick.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The demon sits a-waking;</p> +<p class="i2">Look up above Whitehall—</p> +<p class="i0">E'en now, mayhap, he's taking</p> +<p class="i2">The Greatest Word of all;</p> +<p class="i0">From smiling folk aboard-ships</p> +<p class="i2">He ticks it off the reel:—</p> +<p class="i0">"An' may it please your Lordships,</p> +<p class="i2">A Fleet's put out o' Kiel!"</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"Much indecision prevails as to what the +value of sultanas will be in the near future."</p></blockquote> +<p class="author"><i>Daily Telegraph.</i></p> +<p>What the Germans want to know is +the price of Sultans.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span> + +<h2>BLANCHE'S LETTERS.</h2> + +<center><span class="sc">War Gossip</span>.</center> + +<p class="author"><i>Park Lane.</i></p> + +<p class="salute">Dearest Daphne,—</p> + +<p>The situation here is unchanged, though we have +made some progress in knitting. Forgive +me, <i>m'amie</i>, but one does get so +much into the <i>despatch</i> habit! The +other day I'd a letter from Babs, in +which she told me she'd "nothing +fresh to report on her right wing" +before she pulled herself together.</p> + +<p>Norty's at the front as a flying-man. +He's finding out all sorts of things, +dropping bombs on Zeppelins and +covering himself with glory. I had a +few lines from him last week. He +dated from "A place in Europe" (they +have to be <i>enormously</i> cautious!), and +said he was having the time of his life. +He was immensely pleased with the +last letter I managed to get through to +him, and was particularly struck, he +says, with my advice to him: "Find out +all you can, and above all don't get +caught;" he considers it simply <i>invaluable</i> +advice and says all airmen ought +to have it written up in letters of gold +somewhere or other.</p> + +<p>Stella Clackmannan's had a fortnight's +training as a nurse and is off. +I ran in to see the dear thing the night +before she left. She'd been posing to +a photographer in her Red Cross uniform +for <i>hours</i> and <i>hours</i> and was almost +in a state of <i>collapse</i>; but the +heroic darling said she was ready to do +even <i>more than that</i> for her country. +In one photo she's sitting by a cot +with her hands folded, looking sad but +<i>very</i> sweet. In another she's standing +up, singing, "It's a long way to Tipperary;" +and in a third she's bandaging +someone (she had one of the foot-men +in for this photo), and, <i>à mon avis</i>, +it's the least successful of all. She +appears to be <i>choking</i> the poor man! +However, they're immensely charming, +and will all be seen in the "Aristocratic +Angels of Mercy" page of next week's +<i>People of Position</i>.</p> + +<p>Dear Professor Dimsdale has only just +got back to England from his eclipse +expedition. I'm not sure now whether +it was an eclipse or an occultation, but +anyhow the only place where it could +be properly seen was a mountain in +the Austrian Tyrol. It was due in the +middle of August, and the last week in +July the Professor set off with his big +telescope and his lenses and his assistants +and his note-books and everything +that was his. He lived a week +or two on the mountain, to get used +to the atmosphere and prepare all his +things, so he didn't know what was +going on in the world below. And then, +just as the eclipse or whatever it was +<i>began</i>, and the Professor was looking +up at the sky for all he was worth, +a lot of fearful creatures came rushing +up the mountain and said there was +a war and that he was an alien enemy +and that he was making signals and +that his big telescope was a new sort of +howitzer; and they pushed him down +the mountain, and broke his telescope +and all his lenses, and tore up his note-books, +and shook their fists at him and +used such language that he said for the +first time in his life he was sorry he +was such a good linguist!</p> + +<p>They finished by shutting him up in +a fortress, and there he's been ever +since. He hardly knows how it was +he got away, but he believes the whole +garrison was marched off to meet the +Russians, and that they're all prisoners +now—which is his only drop of comfort. +I've tried to console him for having +missed what he went to see. I said, +"Perhaps the eclipse or whatever it +was will happen again soon—or one +like it." He groaned out, "My dear +lady, that particular conjunction of the +heavenly bodies will not occur again +for 2,645 years, 9 months, 3 weeks and +2 days." So there it is, my dearest!</p> + +<p>Would it cheer you up to hear a +small romance of war and knitting? +Here it is, then. Some time ago +Monica Jermyn brought round some +terrific mitts she'd knitted to go in one +of my parcels for the troops. She's +easily the worst knitter who ever held +needles! "My <i>dear</i> child," I said, "what +simply ghastly mitts! They're full of +mistakes." "What's it matter?" +Monica answered. "Mistakes will keep +them quite as warm as the right +stitches. Besides, they're all right. I +knit ever so much better now than +when I used to make socks for the Deep +Sea Fisherman last year." "That's +not saying much," I said. "I remember +those socks for the Deep Sea Fishermen, +and I doubt whether even the +<i>deepest</i> sea fishermen would know how +to put them on! What's this?" "It's +a message to go with the mitts," +replied Monica. This was the message:—"The +girl who made these mitts +hopes they will be a comfort to some +dear brave hands fighting for her and +her sisters in England." "Oh, my +<i>dear</i>!" I remonstrated. "It's very +<i>young</i> and <i>romantic</i> of you, but don't +you think it's <i>just</i> a little——" "No, +I don't!" she cried. "And if it is, I +don't care. Please, please let it go!" +So it went.</p> + +<p>Soon after that the Jermyns went +down to their place in Sussex, and +later I heard they'd some convalescent +war heroes as guests. Monica wrote +me: "All six of them are dear brave +darlings, of course, but <i>one</i> of them is +<i>darlinger</i> than the others. Tell it not +in Gath, dear Blanche, but I think +I've met my fate!" Later she wrote: +"He's getting on splendidly. He +turns out to be a cousin of the Flummerys. +He performed <i>prodigies</i> of +valour, but won't say a <i>word</i> about it. +When he leaves us my heart will quite, +<i>quite</i> break—and I sometimes hope <i>his</i> +will too!"</p> + +<p>Yesterday came the following:—"Claude +and I belong to each other. +And what, oh <i>what</i> do you think +helped to lead up to the dear, delicious +finale? But wait. My hero is +almost quite well now, and this morning, +when we took what would have +been our <i>last</i> little walk in the grounds, +it happened! He walks <i>beautifully</i> +now, though he still needs an arm at +about the level of <i>mine</i> to lean on. It +was a chilly morning and, as I was +looking down and trying to think of +something to say, I gave a sudden +shriek, for on his dear heroic wrists +I recognised—<i>My Mitts</i>! And when +he heard I'd made them he was just +as <i>confondu</i> as I was. 'They were in +a bale of comfies sent to my company,' +he said, 'and I had the ladling out of +them to the men. But when I came +to these mitts, with the sweet little +message pinned to them, I simply +couldn't part with them! And to think +<i>you</i> made them—and wrote the little +message! It makes one believe in all +those psychic what-d'-you-call-'ems.'</p> + +<p>"I felt a crisis was coming and so I +said hurriedly, 'Oh, I only wish they +were worthier of—of—brave hands and +wrists. I'm a wretched knitter—they're +full of mistakes—I kept forgetting to +keep to the pattern—it ought to have +been, "<i>knit</i> two together and <i>make</i> one"—but +of course you don't understand +knitting.' 'I understand it right +enough if <i>that's</i> all there is to it,' he +said. "Knit two together and make +one." Monica—no, you mustn't run +away—— ' And that's all you're going +to be told, Blanche, except that the +powers that be have given their consent +and I'm too happy for words!"</p> + +<p><i>Et voilà mon petit roman de guerre +et de tricotage.</i></p> + +<p>My poor Josiah is still at the uttermost +edge of beyond. He began to +come home, and the boat was chased +and ran to an island for shelter, and +then the island was taken by one of +our enemies and he was a prisoner. +Then it was retaken by one of the +Allies and he was free again. Since +then more things have happened and +he's been a prisoner again, and free +again. And now he's lost count, and +says he doesn't know <i>what</i> he is or +<i>who's</i> got the island!</p> + +<p class="regards">Ever thine,</p> + +<p class="author">Blanche.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/397.png"> +<img src="images/397.png" width="100%" alt="Many recruits gone from this village?" /></a> +<p><i>Cyclist.</i> "<span class="sc">Many recruits gone from this village</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Shopkeeper.</i> "<span class="sc">No, Sir</span>."</p> +<p><i>Cyclist.</i> "<span class="sc">Oh, why's that</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Shopkeeper.</i> "<span class="sc">Well, Sir, after going carefully into the matter, we, in this neighbourhood, decided to remain +absolutely neutral</span>."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>FATHER WILHELM.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"You are bold, Father <span class="sc">Wilhelm</span>," the young man said;</p> +<p class="i2">"Your moustache, too, is fiercer than mine;</p> +<p class="i0">But I'm tempted to ask by the size of your head,</p> +<p class="i2">Do you really suppose you're divine?"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"In my youth," said his father, "you probably know</p> +<p class="i2">That I held the most orthodox views;</p> +<p class="i0">But since I have hypnotized <span class="sc">Harnack</span> and <span class="sc">Co.</span></p> +<p class="i2">I simply believe what I choose."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"You are bold," said the youth, "as I've mentioned before,</p> +<p class="i2">Yet you frequently talk through your hat;</p> +<p class="i0">For you told us the English were worthless in war;</p> +<p class="i2">Pray what was the reason of that?"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"In my earlier days," said his sire, "through and through</p> +<p class="i2">I studied that decadent race,</p> +<p class="i0">And in failing to prove that my forecast was true</p> +<p class="i2">They have covered themselves with disgrace."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"You are bold," said the youth, "and the Nietzschean creed</p> +<p class="i2">Cries, 'Down with the humble and meek;'</p> +<p class="i0">Yet the sack of Louvain made your bosom to bleed;</p> +<p class="i2">Why were you so painfully weak?"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"In my youth," said his father, "I studied the Arts</p> +<p class="i2">With a zeal that no force could restrain;</p> +<p class="i0">And the love of mankind which that study imparts</p> +<p class="i2">Has made me unduly humane."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"You <i>were</i> bold," said the youth, "but it seems to be clear</p> +<p class="i2">That you're losing your grit and your fire;</p> +<p class="i0">And, if I may whisper the hint in your ear,</p> +<p class="i2">Don't you think that you ought to retire?"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"I've answered three questions," the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> replied,</p> +<p class="i2">"That might baffle the wit of a <span class="sc">Zancig</span>;</p> +<p class="i0">I'm tired of your talk and I'm sick of your 'side':</p> +<p class="i2">Be off, or I'll send you to Danzig."</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>The Way of the Turk.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The position of Turkey is muddled and murky,</p> +<p class="i2">But the course she's resolved to pursue</p> +<p class="i0">Is true to her mind, which we constantly find</p> +<p class="i2"><i>À l'Enver(s) et contre tous.</i></p> +</div></div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>"The Hun and the Tartar stand together—<i>par mobile patrum</i>."</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author"><i>Newcastle Daily Journal.</i></p> + +<p>We cannot speak with equal confidence of the head of the +Tartars, but the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> certainly makes a very mobile +parent.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/398.png"> +<img src="images/398.png" width="100%" alt="Cavalry Instructor" /></a> +<p><i>Cavalry Instructor</i> (<i>to nervous Recruit</i>). "<span class="sc">Now then; none o' them Cossack stunts 'ere</span>."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE WATCH DOGS.</h2> + +<center>VII.</center> + +<p class="salute">Dear Charles,—</p> +<p>We haven't gone yet. Upon my word, we don't know +what to do about it. We start off for +the Continent and then we halt and +ask ourselves, "Won't they be wanting +us to go to Egypt and have a word +with the enemy there?" So we come +back and change our underclothes and +start out again; but we haven't got far +before a persistent subaltern starts a +scare about invasions. At that we +halt again and have a pow-wow. Thick +underclothes for the Continent; thin +underclothes for Egypt, but what underclothes +for home defence? And that, +old man, is the real difficulty about +war: what clothes are you to make it +in? Our official programme is, however, +clearly defined now. It is this: +We sail on or about—— to——, and +thence to——, pausing for a cup of +tea at——. We then change direction +left and turn down by the butcher's +shop and up past the post-office. Here +we form fours, form two deep, slope +arms, order arms, present arms, trail +arms, ground arms, take up arms, pile +arms, unpile arms, move to the right +in fours, by the left, left wheel. The +essence of these manœuvres is that +they make it impossible for even the +most acute enemy to guess which is +our real direction. He gathers that it +is one of two things: it is either right +or, failing that, left. But which? +Ah, that is the secret! Sometimes I +am in some doubt myself after having +given the order.</p> + +<p>Our musical <i>repertoire</i> is extensive, +and, I venture to think, very aptly +and poetically expresses the feelings +of soldiers in the several aspects of +military life. Their deep-seated respect +for ceremonial is expressed thus, to the +<i>Faust</i> airs:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"All soldiers live on bread and jam;</p> +<p class="i0">All soldiers eat it instead o' ham.</p> +<p class="i0">And every morning we hear the Colonel say,</p> +<p class="i0">'Form fours! Eyes right! Jam for dinner to-day!'"</p> +</div></div> + +<p>His heart's sorrow upon leaving his +fatherland is rendered exactly thus:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"The ship is now in motion;</p> +<p class="i0">We're going to cross the Ocean.</p> +<p class="i6">Good bye-er!</p> +<p class="i6">Fare-well-er!</p> +<p class="i0">Farewell for ever-mo-er!"</p> +</div></div> + +<p>And lastly his deep concern for his +country's and his own and everybody's +welfare is thus put:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"I don't care if the ship goes down,</p> +<p class="i2">It doesn't belong to me."</p> +</div></div> + +<p>We had a Divisional Field Day yesterday. +Recollecting a previous experience, +the G.O.C. sent for his three +Brigadiers, when the division was +assembled for action, and, it seems, +said to them, "There must be less +noise." The Brigadiers, returning to the +field, called out each his four battalion-commanders +and said to them, distinctly, +"There must be less noise." +The twelve battalion-commanders called +out each his eight company-commanders, +who called out each his four +section-commanders, and in every instance +was repeated, quite audibly, the +same utterance, "There must be less +noise." Three hundred and eighty-four +section-commanders were engaged in +impressing this order, with all the emphasis +it deserved, upon the men, when +the General rode on to the field. His +anger was extreme. "<span class="sc">There must be +less noise</span>!" said he.</p> + +<p class="regards">Yours ever,</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Henry</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"The Press also avoids very carefully all +discussion of the status of the Goeben and +the Breslau. Practically the only reference +to the subject is a remark in the <i>Frankfurter +Zeitung</i> that Turkey has alone to decide what +ships are to fly under her flag."—<i>Times.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>If Turkey decides that the <i>Goeben</i> is to +fly, we hope she will warn the man who +works the searchlights at Charing Cross.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/399.png"> +<img src="images/399.png" width="100%" alt="A GLORIOUS EXAMPLE." /></a> +<h4>A GLORIOUS EXAMPLE.</h4> +<p><span class="sc">Able-bodied Civilian</span> (<i>to Territorial</i>). "THAT OUGHT TO GIVE YOU A GOOD LEAD, MATE."</p> +<p><span class="sc">Territorial</span>. "YES—AND I MEAN TO TAKE IT! WHAT ABOUT <i>YOU</i>?"</p> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/401.png"> +<img src="images/401.png" width="100%" alt="A Prussian Court-painter earning an Iron Cross" /></a><br /><br /> +<p><span class="sc">A Prussian Court-painter earning an Iron Cross by painting pictures in praise of the Fatherland for neutral consumption</span>.</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"CHARLIE" BERESFORD.</h2> + +<center>By <span class="sc">Toby</span>, M.P.</center> + +<p>"Lord Charles has broken his +chest-bone—a piece of which was cut +out in his boyhood leaving a cavity—his +pelvis, right leg, right hand, foot, +five ribs, one collar-bone three times, +the other once, his nose three times." +Thus Mr. <span class="sc">Cope Cornford</span> in one of +the notes with which he illuminates the +<i>Memoirs of Admiral Lord Charles Beresford</i>, +published by Messrs. <span class="sc">Methuen</span> +in two volumes, illustrated with a score +of plates, the portrait of Lady <span class="sc">Charles</span> +adding the charm of rare beauty to the +collection.</p> + +<p>For many years I have been honoured +by the friendship of Lord +<span class="sc">Charles</span>, and have had frequent opportunity +of witnessing his multiform +supremacy. Till I read this amazing +catalogue of calamities, I never dreamt +that among other claims to distinction +he might have been billed as The +Fractured Man, principal attraction in +a travelling show, eclipsing the One-Legged +Camel, the Tinted Zebra, and the +Weird-Eyed Wanton from the Crusty +North, who can sing in five languages +"It's a Long, Long Way to Tipperary." +Ignoring the monotony of experience +suffered by the ribs, and noting the obtrusiveness +of one collar-bone, we may, +with slight variation from a formula +in use by the <span class="sc">Speaker</span> in the House +of Commons, declare "The Nose has +it." Happily no one regarding Lord +<span class="sc">Charles's</span> cheery countenance would +guess that its most prominent feature +had been "broken three times."</p> + +<p>Here is a man whose life should be +written. Fortunately the task has been +undertaken by Lord <span class="sc">Charles</span> himself, +and the world is richer by a book which, +instructive in many ways, valuable as +throwing side-lights on the slow advance +of the Navy to the proud position +which it holds to-day on the North +Sea, bubbles over with humour.</p> + +<p>Record opens in the year 1859, when +Lord <span class="sc">Charles</span> entered the Navy, closing +just half-a-century later, when he hauled +down his flag and permanently came +ashore. Within the space of fifty years +there is crammed a life of adventure +richly varied in range. A man of +exuberant individuality, which has +occasional tendency to obscure supreme +capacity, of fearless courage, gifted +with a combination of wit and humour, +Lord <span class="sc">Charles</span> is the handy-man to +whom in emergency everyone looked +not only for counsel but for help. It is +a paradox, but a probability, that had +he been duller-witted, a more ponderous +person, he would have carried more +weight alike in the councils of the Admiralty +at Whitehall and of the nation +at Westminster.</p> + +<p>As these memoirs testify, behind a +smiling countenance he hides an unbending +resolution to serve the public +interest, whether aboard ship or in his +place in Parliament. Perhaps the most +familiar incident in his professional +career is his exploit during the bombardment +of Alexandria, when the signal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span> +flashed from the flag-ship, "Well done, +<i>Condor</i>." A more substantial service +was his command of what he describes +as "the penny steamer" <i>Safieh</i>, whose +manœuvring on the Nile amid desperate +circumstances averted from Sir <span class="sc">Charles +Wilson's</span> desert column, hastening to +the rescue of <span class="sc">Gordon</span>, the fate which +earlier had befallen <span class="sc">Stewart</span>.</p> + +<p>Another splendid piece of work was +accomplished when, after the bombardment +of Alexandria he was appointed +Provost-Marshal and Chief of Police, +and had committed to his charge the +task of restoring order. His conspicuous +success on this occasion bore fruit +many years later when he was offered +the post of Chief Commissioner of Police +in the Metropolis. His story of the +Egyptian and Soudan Wars, carried +through several chapters, is a valuable +contribution to history. +It suggests that, all other +avenues to fame closed +against him, Lord <span class="sc">Charles</span> +would have made an enduring +name as a war +correspondent.</p> + +<p>It is a circumstance incredible, +save in view of +the authority upon which +it is stated, that, as part +of the reward for his +splendid service in the +Soudan, Lord <span class="sc">Charles</span> +narrowly escaped compulsory +retirement from +the Service before he had +completed the time required +to qualify for Flag +Rank. The Queen's Regulations +ordained that before +a captain could win +this prized position he +must have completed a period of from +five to six years of active service. In +1892, Lord <span class="sc">Charles</span>, the flag almost +in reach of his hand, applied for permission +to count-in the 315 days he was +strenuously and brilliantly at work in +the Soudan. The Board of Admiralty, +invulnerable in their environment of +red tape, refused the request, repeating +the <i>non possumus</i> when on two +subsequent occasions the request was +preferred.</p> + +<p>It must be admitted that the Board +had no reason to regard Lord <span class="sc">Charles</span> +with favour or even with equanimity. +When returned to Parliament, the man +who had superintended the mending of +the boiler on the penny steamboat on the +Nile, devoted himself to the bigger task +of mending the Navy, at that time in +an equally pitiful condition. During +his brief and solitary term of office as +Junior Lord of the Admiralty, Lord +<span class="sc">Charles</span>, who thought he was put +there to do some work, drew up a +memorandum on the necessity of creating +at the Admiralty a Naval Intelligence +Department. The memorandum +was laid before the Board, and the +Junior Lord was told he was meddling +with high matters that did not come +within the scope of his business. A +few weeks later a Naval Intelligence +Department (of a sort) was created. +<i>Sic vos non vobis.</i></p> + +<p>'Twas ever thus. Lord <span class="sc">Charles</span>, +whether in office, on active service, or +from his familiar place above the Gangway +in the House of Commons, bringing +to bear upon Naval affairs the gift +of keen intuition and the endowment +of long practical experience, has, with +one exception, done more than any +man living to deliver the Navy from +mistakes inevitable in the case of the +over-lordship of a civilian who is subject +to currents of political and party feeling. +By way of reward he has received more +kicks than ha'pence.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/402.png"> +<img src="images/402.png" width="100%" alt="GERMANISED TURKEY." /></a> +<h4>GERMANISED TURKEY.</h4> +<p>"<span class="sc">Dere you are, mein friendt; der same old flag mit a <i>leedle</i> +difference</span>."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ANOTHER RUINED TRADE.</h2> + +<p>I had secured an empty compartment. +Something in my blood makes me rush +for an empty compartment. I suppose +it is because I am a Briton, yet it was +another Briton who intruded upon my +privacy.</p> + +<p>At the first glance I saw that he +would talk to me about the—well, what +do you expect? I can always tell when +men want to talk about it. Would +that I had the same subtle instinct +when they wish to borrow money! +I was ready for him. If he said, "Have +you heard?" I was going to answer, +"About the <span class="sc">Secretary of State for +War</span> ordering Lord <span class="sc">Fisher</span> to be imprisoned +in the Tower as a spy? Why, +my brother-in-law told me all about it +last week."</p> + +<p>Instead he put his hand on my knee +and asked, "Are you a German?"</p> + +<p>"Unless I am descended from <span class="sc">Hengist</span> +or <span class="sc">Horsa</span>," I replied, "there isn't +an atom of culture in me."</p> + +<p>"Then I can confide in you. A +disturbance is advancing in this direction +from Eastern Europe."</p> + +<p>"You mean that the <span class="sc">Crown Prince</span> +is retreating towards us from Poland?"</p> + +<p>"No," he snapped. "And another +disturbance is coming from the vicinity +of Iceland."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens! This is too much. +At my time of life how am I to learn +how to pronounce Pzreykjavik."</p> + +<p>"Let me tell you what I prophesy +for the next few days. Saturday will +be bright."</p> + +<p>"Splendid! A cheerful week-end will +do us all good."</p> + +<p>"Sunday will be gloomy, +and on Monday will come +the downfall."</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">William's</span> or ours?"</p> + +<p>"Accompanied by strong +south-westerly winds, +rising to a gale, and a rapid +fall of the barometer. So +now you know. My mind +is easy. I have told someone. +I have been cruelly +censored—only allowed to +predict just wet or fine +from day to day. I felt +that I must tell someone. +The Censor and Count +<span class="sc">Zeppelin</span> between them +were killing me."</p> + +<p>I pitied the agony of the +professional weather forecaster. +I promised to respect +his confidence. I +left the carriage proud of +the fact that I was one of the two +men in England who knew what +Saturday's weather would be. That is +why I left my umbrella at home while +apparently every other man took his +out. It is also the reason why my new +topper was ruined. And now I wonder +whether the prophet was mistaken, or +whether at the last moment he detected +signs of culture in me and lied.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>From an Indian paper:—</h4> + +<blockquote><p>"The Germans are continuing the questionable +tactics of sowing floating mines in +neutral waters to the danger of neutral shipping, +as well as of British and French war +vessels. They are apparently tying them in +Paris, so as to make it more difficult to avoid +them."</p></blockquote> + +<p>As a result, the <i>Iron Duke</i> has had to +give up entirely its morning run down +the Rue de Rivoli. At the same time +we are glad to hear that these floating +mines are tied. It stops them from +floating quite so much.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span></p> + +<h2>IN THE WINGS.</h2> + +<p>(<span class="sc">Note</span>: <i>If this essay in the well-informed +manner achieves any success, +the credit is largely due to the timely +interruptions of the Censor.</i>)</p> + +<p>Few people, I think, realise the +tremendous significance of waterproof +overalls in a war like the present. I +was talking to one of our most prominent +Midland manufacturers at Sheringham +the other day and he remarked +confidentially [passage deleted by the +Censor] at fifteen per cent. reduction +to our soldiers for spot cash.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Which reminds me of a stifling +Malta afternoon, when I first saw the +good ship <i>Sheringham</i> steam slowly up +through the haze of Sliema Creek. It +was in the early days of the Navy's +grey-paint era. The change was a +drastic one, as all service-men admitted. +And why grey? I make no secret of +the fact that I have always advocated +ultramarine for the Mediterranean station; +but the Grey Water School, you +know—well, there, I must not be +indiscreet.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Life on a cruiser may be the tally +for some, but give me the nimble t.b.d.! +There you have none of "the great +monotony of sea" which drove W.M.T. +to his five meals a day. Nothing but +the charming <i>fraternité</i> of the ward-room, +the delightful inconsequences of +the chart-house kitten, and the throb +of the oil-fed turbine! Unless I am +greatly mistaken [passage deleted by the +Censor—which shows that I wasn't].</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>I was dining the other evening at +the Buckingham Palace with a friend +who is well known in Foreign Office +circles. The conversation turned, naturally +enough, on the dangers in our +midst from foreign waiters. The English +waiter who was attending us happened +at the moment to dislodge with +his elbow a wine-list which, in falling, +decanted a quantity of Sauterne into +the lap of my <i>vis-à-vis</i>, who remarked +[passage deleted by the Censor].</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>I learn from reliable sources that one +wing of our "contemptible little army" +is resting upon ——. Dear old ——! +How often have I wandered down +your sleepy little High Street to the +<i>épicerie</i> of our lively old <i>Thérèse</i>! But +that was in the old days, before the +black arts of Kaiserism transformed the +peace of yesterday into the Armageddon +of to-day. Next week I shall deal +more intimately with life behind the +scenes in German frontier towns; but +you must wait with what patience you +can for these further confidences.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/403.png"> +<img src="images/403.png" width="100%" alt="No, Sir, they wouldn't take our Fred" /></a><br /><br /> +<p>"<span class="sc">No, Sir, they wouldn't take our Fred, 'cos they said he'd a-got +bellicose veins</span>."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>GREY GIBBONS.</h2> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">With fingers too canny to bungle,</p> +<p class="i2">With footsteps too cunning to swerve,</p> +<p class="i0">They swing through the heights of the jungle,</p> +<p class="i2">These stalwarts of infinite nerve;</p> +<p class="i0">Blithe sailors who heed not the breezes</p> +<p class="i2">Which play round their riggings and spars,</p> +<p class="i0">Lithe gymnasts who live on trapezes</p> +<p class="i4">And parallel bars.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">In ballrooms of plantain and mango</p> +<p class="i2">They scamper, they slither and slide</p> +<p class="i0">In the throes of a tropical tango,</p> +<p class="i2">In the grip of a Gibbony glide;</p> +<p class="i0">'Tis thus in these desolate spaces,</p> +<p class="i2">Away from humanity's ken,</p> +<p class="i0">They mimic the civilised races</p> +<p class="i4">And strive to be men.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">As the grey little acrobats patter</p> +<p class="i2">O'er creepers of myriad shapes,</p> +<p class="i0">They mouth not the meaningless chatter</p> +<p class="i2">Of dull and demoralised apes;</p> +<p class="i0">But, proud of their portion as creatures</p> +<p class="i2">Who know not the stigma of tails,</p> +<p class="i0">They screw up their weather-worn features</p> +<p class="i4">And practise their scales.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And oft in this primitive Eden</p> +<p class="i2">When I study some antic that hints</p> +<p class="i0">At the physical fitness of Sweden,</p> +<p class="i2">The speed of American sprints,</p> +<p class="i0">I dream of the wreaths and the ribbons</p> +<p class="i2">Their prowess would certainly win,</p> +<p class="i0">If there weren't any war, and my gibbons</p> +<p class="i4">Could go to Berlin.</p> +</div></div> + +<p class="author">J. M. S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> + +<h2>MY FAVOURITE PAPER.</h2> + +<center><span class="sc">By a Voracious Reader</span>.</center> + +<p>All day long I read the papers that +keep this little island noisy and tell us +how we ought to be governed. I can't +help it. I want to know the latest, and +reading the papers seems (more or less) +the way to get at it. The best way of +all, of course, is to meet a man at a club +or a resident in a locality favoured by +retired colonels; but, in default of those +advantages, one must buy the papers. +And then of course it follows that one +reads far too many papers and gets one's +head far too full of war news. Still, +what would you have? The war is +so eminently first and everything else +nowhere that this is inevitable.</p> + +<p>Outside suggestion has its share, too. +Morning papers are a matter of course. +One reads one's regular morning papers +and no others. But after that the +trouble begins with the evening paper +placards, each with its lure. How can +one resist them? The progress of the +Allies! The repulsing of the enemy! +The ten miles gained! The Russian +advance! A German cruiser sunk! +Each newsman has a different bait, and +as the day goes on they become more +attractive, so that one goes to bed at +night filled with optimism. Well, +these all have to be bought.</p> + +<p>Speaking as a reader of too many of +them I must admit to a grievance or +two; and the chief is the difficulty that +we have in finding the fulfilment of all +the promises which are set out in the +headings to the principal war news. +For example, I find among these +headings on the day on which I write +a reference to a German admission of +failure and dismay. But can I find the +thing itself? I cannot. It may be there, +but again and again has my eye +travelled up and down the columns +seeking the nutritious morsel and not +yet has it alighted thereon, and that is +but one case out of many. Sometimes +after a long hunt I do track these joyful +tit-bits down, and then discover that +they are separated from the heading by +several columns. Some day a newspaper +editor will arise who can achieve +a really useful index to his contents. +<i>The Times</i> used to have something of +the sort, but under the stress of battle +that has gone.</p> + +<p>Another grievance—but I shall say +no more on that subject. Grievances +are for peace time, when a general +huffiness and stuffiness about the way +that everyone else conducts business is +natural and indeed expected. In wartime +no one should be harassed by +criticism. So I pass on to the paper +which I like best of all those now being +published. I like it because it contains +the news I most want to read, and +every day, or rather every night, it gets +better and will continue to get better +until the Brandenberg gate opens to let +the Allies in. This paper is not a +morning paper and not an evening +paper. It is published at night, in the +smallest of the small hours, and I am its +sole subscriber, for it is the paper of my +dreams. Whether or not I am its editor +I could not say. That question leads +to the greater one which would need a +volume for its decision: Do we compose +our own dreams, or are they provided +by Ole Luk Oie or some other dream-spinner? +Anyway, no one can read the +paper of my dreams but I, and it is, +after all, the best reading. It contains +the oddest things. Last night it had +a fine article about a football match in +the North of England. Twenty-two +terrific fellows, whose united salaries +came to a respectable fortune and +whose united transfer fees, should their +Clubs ever let them go, would be +sufficient to build a <i>Dreadnought</i>, had +been charging up and down the ground +in a series of magnificent rushes, while +ten thousand North of England lads +roared themselves hoarse to see such +glory. Suddenly a newspaper boy, +reckless of his life, dashed on to the +ground with a placard stating that +a whole regiment of British soldiers +had been trapped by a German ruse +and annihilated. In an instant the +game was broken up and every player +and every spectator who was of age +ran like hares to the nearest recruiting +office and enrolled themselves as +soldiers. They had seen in a flash +that the only chance for England to +get rid of this German menace was for +every eligible man to do his share.</p> + +<p>In another part of the paper I read +of a young and powerful man in an +English village who, on being asked if +he did not think that England was in +danger, replied "Yes." He was then +asked if he did not think that it was +necessary to fight for her, and he +replied "Yes" again. He was then +asked who in his opinion were the +most suitable volunteers to come to +her aid, and he replied, "Other people." +So far the story is not appreciably +different from a story that you might +read anywhere. But the version in +my paper stated that he was seized by +all the company present and not only +ducked in the nearest horse-pond but +held under the water for quite a long +time, and then held under the water +again.</p> + +<p>And another article—a most exciting +one—described the success of a British +aviator who flew over Essen and +dropped five bombs on <span class="sc">Krupp's</span> gun +factory and did irreparable damage. +I forget his name, but, although he was +pursued, he got clear away and returned +to the Allies' lines. There was a fellow +for you!</p> + +<p>So you see that I get some good +reading out of my favourite paper. +And more is to come!</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE PRICE OF WAR.</h2> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Now woe is me! My treasure, my delight,</p> +<p class="i2">My guerdon after many toilsome days,</p> +<p class="i0">Shall gladden me no more. It was a sight</p> +<p class="i2">To bid men gape in wonderment, and praise</p> +<p class="i0">My patient courage that endured despite</p> +<p class="i2">The gibes of friends and Delia's pitying ways.</p> +<p class="i4">Ah, cruel fate that forced my hand to snip</p> +<p class="i4">Such costly growth as graced my upper lip!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Moustache most cherished! Not as other men</p> +<p class="i2">That let their lush growth riot as it will,</p> +<p class="i0">With just a formal waxing now and then,</p> +<p class="i2">Did I maintain it. Nay, with loving skill</p> +<p class="i0">And all the precious oils within the ken</p> +<p class="i2">Of cunning alchemists I strove until</p> +<p class="i4">Its soaring points aspired to pierce the skies,</p> +<p class="i4">And I was martial in my Delia's eyes.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Great store of gold I lavished. Yea, I went</p> +<p class="i2">To one that works in metals and I bought</p> +<p class="i0">A kind of dreadful iron instrument</p> +<p class="i2">With leathern straps, most wonderfully wrought,</p> +<p class="i0">And wore that horror nightly, well content</p> +<p class="i2">To bear such anguish for the prize I sought.</p> +<p class="i4">And all this patient toil was thrown away—</p> +<p class="i4">They stoned me for the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> yesterday!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p>At a time when every penny that +can be spared is needed for the help +of our soldiers in the field and of our +wounded, or to relieve the distress of the +Belgian refugees or our own sufferers +from the War, a public appeal is being +made to the citizens of Newcastle-on-Tyne +for subscriptions to a fund for +presenting a testimonial to their Lord +Mayor, on the ground that he has done +his duty. We beg to offer our respectful +sympathy to the <span class="sc">Lord Mayor</span> of +Newcastle-on-Tyne.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/405.png"> +<img src="images/405.png" width="100%" alt="Colonel of Swashbucklers." /></a><br /><br /> +<p><i>Colonel of Swashbucklers.</i> "<span class="sc">Nah then, Swank! The wimmin can look arter theirselves. You 'op it and jine yer regiment</span>."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A TOBACCO PLANT.</h2> + +<p>I had done the second hole (from the +vegetable-marrow frame to the mulberry-tree) +in two, and was about to +proceed to the third hole by the potting-shed +when I thought I would go in and +convey the glad news to Joan. I found +her seated at the table in the breakfast-room +with what appeared to be a heap +of tea spread out upon a newspaper in +front of her. Little slips of torn tissue-paper +littered the floor, and on a chair +by her side were several empty cardboard +boxes. The sight was so novel +that I forgot the object of my errand.</p> + +<p>"What's all that tea for, and what +are you doing with it?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"It isn't tea; it's tobacco," Joan +replied, "and I'm making cigarettes +for the soldiers at the front."</p> + +<p>"Where on earth did you get that +tobacco from, if it <i>is</i> tobacco?" I +went on.</p> + +<p>"Let me see now," mused Joan, +pausing to lick a cigarette-paper—"was +it from the greengrocer's or the +butcher's? Ah! I remember. It was +from the tobacconist's."</p> + +<p>Joan gets like that sometimes, but I +do not encourage her.</p> + +<p>"But what made you choose this +Hottentot stuff?" I enquired.</p> + +<p>"The soldiers like it strong," Joan +replied, "and this looked about the +strongest he'd got."</p> + +<p>"What does it call itself?"</p> + +<p>"It was anonymous when I bought +it, but you'll no doubt see its name on +the bill when it comes in."</p> + +<p>"Thanks very much," I said. "That's +what I should call forcible fleecing. +Not that I mind in a good cause——"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it ingenious?" interrupted +Joan. "You just put the tobacco in +between the rollers, and twiddle this +button round until—until you've +twiddled it round enough; then you +slip in a cigarette-paper—like that—moisten +the edge of it—twiddle the +button round once more—open the lid—and +shake out the finished article—<i>comme +ça!</i>"</p> + +<p>An imperfect cylindrical object fell +on to the floor. I stooped to pick it up +and the inside fell out. I collected the +<i>débris</i> in the palm of my hand.</p> + +<p>"How many of these have you +made?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Only three thoroughly reliable ones, +including <i>that</i> one," she replied. "I've +rolled ever so many more, but the +tobacco <i>will</i> fall out."</p> + +<p>"Here, let me give you a hand," I +suggested. "I'll roll and you lick."</p> + +<p>"No," said Joan kindly but firmly. +"You don't quite grasp the situation. +I want to do something. I can't make +shirts or knit comforters. I've tried +and failed. My shirts look like pillow-cases, +and anything more comfortless +than my comforters I couldn't imagine. +I wouldn't ask a beggar to wear an +article I had made, much less an Absent-Minded +Beggar."</p> + +<p>"What about that tie you knitted for +me last Christmas?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Joan; "what about it? +That's what I want to know. You +haven't worn it once."</p> + +<p>It was true, I hadn't. The tie in +question was an attempt to hybridise +the respective colour-schemes of a +tartan plaid and a Neapolitan ice.</p> + +<p>"That," I explained, "is because +I've never had a suit which would set +it off as it deserves to be set off. +However, if I can't help I won't hinder +you. I only came in to say that I had +done the second hole in two. I thought +you would like to know I had beaten +bogey." And I retired, taking with me +the little heap of tobacco and the hollow +tube of paper.</p> + +<p>When I reached the seclusion of the +mulberry-tree I found that the paper +had become ungummed, so I placed +the tobacco in it and succeeded after +a while in rolling it up. The result,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> +though somewhat attenuated, was recognisably +a cigarette. I lit it, and +when I had finished coughing I came +to the conclusion that if only I could +induce Joan to present her gift to the +German troops instead of to our +Tommies it would precipitate our ultimate +triumph. I had to eat several +mulberries before I felt capable of proceeding +to the third hole. When I got +there (in two) I found it occupied by a +squadron of wasps while reinforcements +were rapidly coming up from a hole +beneath the shed. Being hopelessly +outnumbered I contented myself with +a strategical movement necessitating +several stiff rearguard actions.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Joan, growing a little more proficient, +had in a couple of days made 500 +cigarettes. I had undertaken to despatch +them, and one morning she came +to me with a neatly-tied-up parcel.</p> + +<p>"Here they are," she said; "but you +must ask at the Post Office how they +should be addressed. I've stuck on a +label."</p> + +<p>I went out, taking the parcel with +me, and walked straight to the tobacconist's.</p> + +<p>"Please pack up 1,000 Hareems," I +said, "and post them to the British +Expeditionary Force. Mark the label +'Cigarettes for the use of the troops.' +And look here, I owe you for a pound +of tobacco my wife bought the other +day. I'll square up for that at the +same time. By-the-by, what tobacco +was it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Sir," the man replied, "I +hardly like to admit it in these times, +but it was a tobacco grown in German +East Africa. It really isn't fit to +smoke, and is only good for destroying +wasps' nests or fumigating greenhouses, +which I thought your lady wanted it +for, seeing as how she picked it out for +herself. Some ladies nowadays know +as much about tobacco as what we do."</p> + +<p>I left the shop hurriedly. The +problem of the disposal of Joan's well-meaning +gift was now solved. I returned +home and furtively stole up the +side path into the garden. Under +cover of the summer-house I undid the +parcel and proceeded rapidly to strip +the paper from those of the cigarettes +that had not already become hollow +mockeries. When I had collected all +the tobacco I went in search of the +gardener, and encountered him returning +from one of his numerous meals.</p> + +<p>"Wilkins," I said, "there is a wasps' +nest on the third green, and here is +some special wasp-eradicator. Will +you conduct the fumigation?"</p> + +<p>As Joan and I were walking round +the garden that evening before dinner +Joan said—</p> + +<p>"I don't want to blush to find it +fame, but—do you know—I prefer doing +good by stealth."</p> + +<p>A faint but unmistakable odour was +borne on the air from the direction of +the third green.</p> + +<p>"So do I," I said.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR NATIONAL GUESTS.</h2> + +<p>My wife attributes our success (so +far) in the entertainment of Belgian +Refugees solely to the fact that we +have not, and never have had, a vestige +of a committee. We all work along in +the jolliest possible way, and we have +no meetings, or agenda, or minutes, +or co-opting of additional members, or +remitting to executives or anything of +that kind. We just bring along anything +that we think will be useful. +Some of us bring clothes and others +butter or umbrellas, or French books, +or razor-strops or cigarettes. Hepburn, +the dairy farmer, keeps sending +cart-loads of cabbages; old Miss +Mackintosh at the Brae Foot sends +threepence a week. And when we are +short of anything we just stick up a +notice to that effect in the village shop. +I issued a call for jam yesterday and +ever since it has rained pots and pots. +We have three large families of Belgians +and we have already got to the stage +where the men are at work and the +children at school—though no one really +has the least idea what they do there.</p> + +<p>But although I admit that it is +magnificent to be without a committee—we +escaped from that by the simple +plan of getting the Belgians first and +trusting to the goodwill of the Parish +to take care of them afterwards—there +are other important factors in our +success. There is our extraordinary +foresight—of course it was a pure fluke +really—in obtaining among them a +real Belgian policeman. You can have +no idea what a fine sense of security +that gives us in case anything goes +wrong. We have already enjoyed his +assistance in a variety of ways, and we +have something still in reserve in the +very unlikely event of his being professionally +called in—his uniform. +When we put him into his uniform +the effect will be tremendous.</p> + +<p>Then again we have the advantage +of being Scotch. I simply don't know +how English country people are going +to get on at all. Here we find that by +talking with great emphasis in the very +broadest Scotch—by simply calling +soap <i>sape</i> and a church a <i>kirk</i> you +can quite frequently bring it off and +make yourself understood. I had a +most exhilarating hour of mutual +lucidity with the one that makes +furniture in the carpenter's shop. It +seemed to me that he called a saw a +<i>zog</i>, which was surely quite good +enough; and when he referred to a +hammer as a <i>hamer</i> it might surely be +said to be equivalent to calling a spade +a spade.</p> + +<p>Still the language difficulty remains, +and the worst of it is that it gives an +altogether unfair advantage—where all +are so anxious to help—to the few +select people in our neighbourhood who +happen to be able, fortuitously, to talk +French. They are—(1) Dr. Anderson, +whose French is very good; (2) my +wife, who is amazingly fluent in a +crisis, though her constructions simply +don't bear thinking of; (3) the school-master, +who is weak; (4) the joiner, +who is bad; (5) myself, who am awful. +Several of our Refugees talk French.</p> + +<p>Of course we all have pocket-dictionaries, +but even they don't always help +us out. I found my wife once engaged +in a desperate hand-to-hand encounter +with the one who does the cooking +about some household necessity that +was sadly lacking. She was completely +baffled. It was pure stalemate, +a deadlock. I pulled out my dictionary +and suggested to the cook (by +illuminative signs) that she should +look it up and point to the English +word. There was some rejoicing at +this, and she at once called upon +the collective wisdom of her whole +family. At last they got it with much +nodding of heads and exhibited the +book, buttressed with an eager finger +at the place. And we looked and read +"A young gold-finch;" so you will see +that that didn't help us much. It was +only by the almost miraculous emergence +of the word <i>Fat</i> in the course of +their own private conversation shortly +afterwards that light came to us.</p> + +<p>That they are quite at a loss to +understand the meaning of honey in +the comb did not greatly surprise us—though +it was rather queer—but the +Parish is deeply distressed at their +total ignorance of oatmeal. They are +quite at sea there, and so far have only +employed it for baiting a bird-trap: and +that touches us closely, for the very +foundation of our being in these parts +is oatmeal. Even their beautiful devotion +to vegetables of all sorts cannot, +we feel, compensate for their attitude +of negation towards this very staple +of existence. There is a strong party +among us bent on their conversion. +We hope with all our hearts that they +will be comfortable and contented +among us till the day comes when they +can return to their own country; and +we feel that their exile will not have +been entirely wasted if they have learned +to appreciate the purpose fulfilled by +porridge in the Divine Order of things.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/407.png"> +<img src="images/407.png" width="100%" alt="WORD PERFECT" /></a> +<h4>WORD PERFECT.</h4> +<p><i>Sentry</i> (<i>on duty for first time</i>). "<span class="sc">'Alt! Who goes there? Advance to within five paces, and give the countersign 'Waterloo.'</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<center>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</center> + +<p>In the good old days when that royal pipsqueak, our +<span class="sc">First James</span>, came to the throne, if you were a physician +of a little more than common skill and furnished with +theological opinions of a modernist complexion, or a lonely +woman with (or without) some cunning in the matter of +herbs, who cherished a peculiar (or normal) pussy-cat, you +were quite likely to be burnt out of hand. And, in her +competent way, <span class="sc">Mary Johnston</span>, in <i>The Witch</i> (<span class="sc">Constable</span>), +deals with this dark blot on the escutcheon of Christianity. +Through what suffering and what joys <i>Dr. Aderhold</i>, the +kindly free-thinking mystic, and <i>Joan Heron</i>, the simple +village maid, found their ultimate and, for the times, merciful +release by halter in place of fire, readers who have nerves to +spare for horror will read with eagerness. It is indeed a +dreadful story. Miss <span class="sc">Johnston</span> is not one of your novelists +who lets herself off the contemporary document, and on +her reputation you may take it she is not far out. The +grim tale serves to show to what lengths the force of suggestion +will, in times of excitement, carry folk otherwise sober +and truthful. Manifestly preposterous evidence, freely +given, was freely admitted by trained legal minds—evidence +on which innocent lives were sacrificed at the average rate +of over a thousand a month in England and Scotland in the +two centuries of the chief witch-baiting period. But, after +all, have we not, most of us, near relations who saw a +quarter-of-a-million of astrakanned Russians steal through +England in the dead of an August night? And have we +not—— But I grow tedious. <i>The Witch</i> is an eminently +readable story of adventure of the coincidental kind.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>What I like best in the stories of Mr. <span class="sc">W. W. Jacobs</span>, +apart from their mere hilarity, is their triumphant vindication +of the right to jest. They spread themselves before +me like a pageant representing the graceful submission of +the easy dupe. They tempt me to filch away chairs from +beneath stout and elderly gentlemen who are about to sit +down. Take the case of <i>Sergeant-Major Farrer</i> in <i>Night +Watches</i> (<span class="sc">Hodder and Stoughton</span>). He was afraid of +nothing on earth, or off it, but ghosts, and he despised the +weedy young man who was in love with his daughter. So +the weedy young man dared him to come to a haunted +cottage at midnight, and, dressed up as a spectre, terrified +the soldier into something more than a strategic retreat, +with the result that he surrendered his daughter. In real +life of course it is different. I know a colour-sergeant, and +somehow I rather think that if I—but never mind. In +Mr. <span class="sc">Jacobs</span>' beautiful world, as it is with <i>Mr. Farrer</i> so is +it with <i>Peter Russet</i>, with <i>Ginger Dick</i> and with <i>Sam +Small</i>. They know when the laugh is against them, and, +waiving the appeal to force or to law, they grumble but +retire. There is one exercise in the gruesome in <i>Night +Watches</i>, but it hardly shows Mr. <span class="sc">Jacobs</span> at his best in +this particular vein. There are also several charming +illustrations by Mr. <span class="sc">Stanley Davis</span>, executed with a buff +tint, which help to sustain the gossamer illusion.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span> + +<p>If I were a woman I should always be a little irritated +with any story which shows two women in love with the +same man. Miss <span class="sc">May Sinclair</span> in her new novel does not +mind how much she annoys her own sex. She shows us +no fewer than three women engaged in this competition, +and they are sisters. True, there was not much choice for +them in their lonely moorland village, which contained a +young doctor and no other eligible man. Of this fellow +<i>Rowcliffe</i> we are told that "his eyes were liable in repose to +become charged with a curious and engaging pathos," an +attraction which had broken many hearts before the story +opened, and gave to their owner a great sense of confidence +in himself. This set me against him at the start, but the +three sisters, as I said, were not in a position to be fastidious. +<i>Mary's</i> love for him was of the social-domestic kind; +<i>Gwenda's</i> was spiritual; <i>Alice's</i> frankly physical. Though +alleged to be "as good as gold," <i>Alice</i>, the youngest of <i>The +Three Sisters</i> (<span class="sc">Hutchinson</span>), was one of those hysterical +women who threaten to +die or go mad unless +they get married—a very +unpleasant fact for a +young doctor to have to +discuss with her sister, +and for us to read about. +Indeed, if I were to tell +in all its incredible +crudity the story of the +relations of this gently-bred +girl with the +drunken farmer who, to +her knowledge, had previously +betrayed her own +servant-girl, I think even +Miss <span class="sc">Sinclair</span> would be +revolted. Her exposure +of certain secret things +which common decency +agrees to leave in silence +is a treachery to her sex, +not excusable on grounds +of physiological interest; +and I, for one, who was +loud in my praise of the +fine qualities of her great +romance, <i>The Divine Fire</i>, confess to a sense of almost +personal sorrow that such high gifts as hers, which still +show no trace of decline in craftsmanship, should have +suffered so much taint. I sincerely hope that the noble +work she is now doing with the Red Cross at the front—where +the best wishes of her many friends follow her—may +make more clear the claim that is laid upon her to devote +her exceptional powers as a writer to the higher issues of +life and death; or, at the least, to something cleaner and +sweeter than the morbid atmosphere of her present theme.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>It has been my private conviction that the most +depressing and shuddersome of all natural prospects is the +wide expanse of mud and slime to be found at low water +in the estuary of a tidal river. Such scenes have always +been singularly abhorrent to me. Mr. "<span class="sc">Adrian Ross</span>" +appears to share this feeling, for out of one of them he +has made the novel and very effective setting for his +bogie-tale, <i>The Hole of the Pit</i> (<span class="sc">Arnold</span>). It is a story +of the Civil Wars, though these have less to do with the +action than the uncivil and very gruesome war waged +between the Lord of Deeping Castle and the Unseen Thing +that lived in the Pit. The Pit itself is real joy. It +was covered always by the tide, but could be distinguished +by a darker shadow on the surface of the sluggish stream, +a shadow streaked at times by wavering bands of greyish +slime, strangely agitated.... There were smells, too, +dank, sodden, drowned smells that came in upon the sea +mist. Moreover, Deeping Castle I can only describe as an +eligible residence for the immortal <i>Fat Boy</i>. It was built +right upon the water, within convenient distance, as the +auctioneers say, of the Pit; and between the two of them +your flesh is made to creep more than you would believe +possible. As for the great scene where the Thing finally +gets out of the Pit, and comes slobbering and sucking +round the castle walls—I cannot hope to convey to you +the horror of it. Perhaps you may feel with me that +Mr. Ross has been at times a little too confident that +the undoubted thrill of his bogie would save it from +being unintentionally funny. I confess I did laugh once +in the wrong place. But everywhere else I shivered +with the fearful joy that only the best in this kind can +produce.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>I remember that I +have before this admired +the mixture of cheerful +cynicism and dry humour +that is the speciality of +Mr. <span class="sc">Max Rittenberg</span>. +He has shown it again +in <i>Every Man His Price</i> +(<span class="sc">Methuen</span>), but hardly, +I think, to quite the +same effect as formerly. +My feeling about the +book was that it started +with a first-class idea for +a plot of comedy and +intrigue, but that the +author, instead of being +contented with this, +wanted to give us a +novel of character-development +on the grand +scale, and somewhat +spoilt his work in the +attempt. The earlier +chapters could hardly +have been better. There was a real snap in the struggle +between the English hero, <i>Hilary Warde</i>, who had nearly +perfected a system of wireless telephony, and the Berlin +magnates who wished to bluff him out of the results. As +I say, I liked these early scenes and some others subsequently +that dealt with rather sensational finance (it always +cheers me up when the hero makes half-a-million pounds +in a single chapter!) better than those that had to do with +<i>Warde's</i> domestic entanglements and the deterioration of +his character. And the climax seemed inadequate to the +point of bathos. But there is much in the tale to enjoy; +and you might read it if only for a vivid word-picture of +what Berlin used to be like before the beginning of the +great <i>débâcle</i>. This has now an interest almost historical.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/408.png"> +<img src="images/408.png" width="100%" alt="There's awful accounts in this 'ere paper" title="" /></a> +<br /><br /> +<p><i>Hedger.</i> "<span class="sc">There's awful accounts in this 'ere paper of they +Germans—seems there's some people as don't 'old <i>Nothing</i> sacred</span>."</p> +<p>Huntsman. "<span class="sc">Ah! you may say so! and it ain't only Germans. +Only last night I found as fine a dog-fox as ever I see <i>with a +bullet-wound through 'is 'eart!</i></span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>"TURKISH AMBASSADOR LEAVES BORDEAUX.</h4> + +<blockquote><p>The Turkish Ambassador left Paris yesterday on a visit to Biarritz. +He announced before leaving that he would return. This was the +first visit paid by the Turkish Ambassador for over a fortnight. He +did not see Sir Edward Grey, but had a long conference with Sir +Arthur Nicolson, Permanent Under-Secretary."</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author"><i>Edinburgh Evening News.</i></p> + +<p>The only possible answer to this extraordinary conduct was +a declaration of war.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. +147, November 11, 1914, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 28596-h.htm or 28596-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/5/9/28596/ + +Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://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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