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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29072-8.txt b/29072-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5136d13 --- /dev/null +++ b/29072-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2137 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, +November 18, 1914, by Various, Edited by Owen Seaman + + +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 18, 1914 + + +Author: Various + +Editor: Owen Seaman + +Release Date: June 8, 2009 [eBook #29072] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, +VOL. 147, NOVEMBER 18, 1914*** + + +E-text prepared by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 29072-h.htm or 29072-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29072/29072-h/29072-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29072/29072-h.zip) + + + + + +PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI + +VOLUME 147. + +November 18, 1914. + + + + + + + + +CHARIVARIA. + +Contrary to the usual custom there were no official dinners on the eve +of the opening of Parliament. The explanation of this is clear to the +German Press. It was due to scarcity of food. + + * * * + +Upon receipt of the Japanese ultimatum, the KAISER, it may be +remembered, cabled to the commander of his Chinese fortress:--"Bear in +mind that it would shame me more to surrender Kiaochau to the Japanese +than Berlin to the Russians." The kind-hearted Russians will now, we +feel sure, have less compunction in taking Berlin, seeing that the blow +will have been softened to an anticlimax. + + * * * + +The KAISER'S hair, it is said, is now bleached: but this attempt to look +like a white man will deceive no one. + + * * * + +Just as we go to press a report reaches us which certainly bears the +impress of truth on the face of it. It declares that the CROWN PRINCE +has been shot for looting by a short-sighted brother-officer who did not +recognise the son of God's Vice-regent on Earth. + + * * * + +"The British Navy is in hiding," says the _Kölnische Zeitung_. We beg +our fragrant contemporary not to worry. In due course the Germans shall +have the hiding. + + * * * + +It is so frequently stated that the leaders of the German Army attach no +importance to the lives of their men that it seems only fair to point +out that last week Brussels was fined £200,000 for wounding a couple of +German policemen. + + * * * + +Neither the French, Russian, Belgian, nor British troops like the idea +of fighting against the mere youths whom a paternal KAISER is now +sending into the firing line, and a humane suggestion has been put +forward for correcting this embarrassment. Would it not be possible, it +is asked, to arrange Boys' Own Battles, in which the German little ones +would be opposed by the young of the Allies? + + * * * + +"Klopstock, one of our greatest geniuses," says the _Hamburger +Fremdenblatt_, "taught us, 'Be not excessively just.' We shall endeavour +now to follow that teaching." We should say that there is no great +danger of the German nation breaking down under the strain of this +effort. + + * * * + +"How ever do the Teutons manage to produce so many lies about us?" asks +"A Lover of Truth." Our correspondent is evidently not much of a +gardener or he would have heard of "Intensive Culture." + + * * * + +The reply published by the _Vossische Zeitung_ to the protest of French +clergymen against the destruction of Louvain and the shelling of Rheims +Cathedral contained at least one unfortunate expression. It asserted +that the GERMAN EMPEROR and the German People are both permeated with a +burning love of peace. + + * * * + +The Rev. Mr. EDWARDS has resigned his assistant curacy at Tettenhall +under somewhat peculiar circumstances, but we are sure the case is not +so bad as _The Wolverhampton Express_ would have us believe. According +to our contemporary this gentleman exhorted his congregation "not to +hate the Germans, but rather to pay for them." + + * * * + +A wounded Tommy in one of our London hospitals, on being asked, the +other day, by a lady visitor what he thought of the French soldiers, +replied that he very much admired the French Curaçaos. + + * * * + +When in Breslau, The Evening News tells us, the KAISER promised that the +Russian Army should be crushed. Fortunately in this case the undertaking +was not even written on a scrap of paper. + + * * * + +"For thirty-two years," says the _Vossische Zeitung_, "Egypt has had to +endure British rule." Curiously enough this bright little sheet does not +go on to point out that during the same period the poor Egyptians have +also had to put up with a good deal of prosperity. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: "WOT'S THE USE OF THIS 'ERE EARLIER CLOSING?" + +"WY IN CASE OF A ZEPPELIN RAID. IF THE 'UN SMELLS BEER 'E'LL 'AVE IT!" + + * * * * * + +A BEAUTY SPOT. + + "This photograph of the town of Pervyse, on the road from Nieuport + to Dixmude, has been taken and retaken by both sides several times. + Our photograph was taken just after it had again come into the + possession of the Allies."--_Daily Chronicle._ + +It is now the German photographer's turn again. + + * * * * * + +Another song for the KAISER:-- + +"COME TSING TAU ME." + + * * * * * + +Translation of a letter received by The Morning Post:-- + + "By spring-time of the 6,000,000 German soldiers there will remain + only three capable of fighting." + +The CROWN PRINCE and two privates. + + * * * * * + + "PATRIOTISM FOR PAUPER CHILDREN.--The Lambeth Guardians yesterday + decided that in order that the Poor-law school children may have an + opportunity of appreciating the position of national affairs the + usual practice of allowing each child an egg for breakfast on + Christmas morning be suspended this year."--_Times._ + +If this doesn't learn them to love their country, it ought, at any rate, +to encourage them to honour and respect the patriotic Lambeth Guardians. + + * * * * * + + "Pending operations for her capture, or destruction, effective steps + have been taken to block the Königsberg in by inking colliers in the + only navigable channel." + + _Birmingham Daily Mail._ + +Aren't they black enough already? + + * * * * * + +Examples of official enthusiasm are always welcome, and we therefore +give further publicity to the following:-- + + "The Cossacks who have been mobilised in the Amur district have sent + the following telegram to the Commander-in-Chief of the Russian + forces: + + 'Your children are coming to your aid, father commander. They come + shouting "Hurrah!"' + + The Grand Duke Nicholas replied: + + 'I shall be very pleased to see you.'--_Reuter._" + + * * * * * + +TO THE BITTER END. + +(_A word with the War-Lord._) + + A rumour comes from Rome (where rumours breed) + That you are sick of taking blow on blow, + And would inter with all convenient speed + The hatchet wielded by your largest foe. + + Is it the shadow Christmas casts before + That makes the iron of your soul unbend, + And melt in prayer for this unholy war + (Meaning the part that pinches most) to end? + + Is it your fear to mark at that high feast + The writing on the wall that seals your fate, + And, where the Christ-star watches in the East, + To hear the guns that thunder at your gate? + + For on your heart no Christmas Peace can fall. + The chimes shall be a tocsin, and the red + Glow of the Yule-wood embers shall recall + A myriad smouldering pyres of murdered dead. + + And anguish, wailing to the wintry skies, + Shall with its dirges drown the sacred hymn, + And round your royal hearth the curse shall rise + Of lowly hearths laid waste to suit your whim. + + And you shall think on altars left forlorn, + On temple-aisles made desolate at your nod, + Where never a white-robed choir this holy morn + Shall chant their greeting to the Birth of God. + + Peace? There is none for you, nor can be none; + For still shall Memory, like a fetid breath, + Poison your life-days while the slow hours run, + Till it be stifled in the dust of Death. + + O. S. + + * * * * * + +WHY I DON'T ENLIST. + + [Curiosity is often expressed regarding the causes which have + prevented young men from enlisting. Considerable interest, + therefore, should attach to the following replies to enquiries, an + inspection of which has been permitted us by the Secretary of the + Patriotic League, an organisation which seeks to stimulate + recruiting by writing to young healthy and unmarried men and asking + them why they do not join the colours.] + +My Dear Sir,--I fully understand your views--in fact I am in cordial +agreement with them. It would be quite fair to say of most young +unmarried men that they could and should be spared. But this cannot be +said of all young men. There is a small section of literary and other +artists whose lives must continue to be immeasurably precious to the +nation which has given them birth. From this company it is impossible +for me to exclude myself. There is a higher patriotism, to the dictates +of which I must respond. With infinite regrets, and thanks for what is +doubtless a well-meant endeavour, + + I am, dear Sir, yours sincerely, + ENDYMION BROWNE. + +P.S.--If you should be in town on the 24th, I am giving a reading from +my own works at the United Intensities Club--"A Night with Endymion +Browne." + +Dear Sir,--What you say is O.K. KITCHENER must have men and all that +sort of thing. Show the KAISER who's boss, and so on. But there are some +men who _can't_ possibly go. And I'm one. It's all very well to say +"Go," but _if_ I go--let me ask you quite seriously--how on earth is +Smoketown Tuesday F.C. to lift the English pot? I don't want to shout +about myself, but it is a known fact that I'm positively the _only_ +centre forward they've got. I'm worth £200 a week to the gate alone. If +you don't care to accept my word, that it is absolutely _impossible_ for +me to go, I'll refer you to what our secretary says at foot. + + Yours, + ALF BOOTER. + +_Note by Secretary_--What Booter says is quite true. He is +indispensable. We paid £1,000 for his transfer, and could not possibly +sanction his leaving us. Besides, some of his many thousand admirers +might want to follow his example, and where would our gate be then? + +Dear Sir,--If I was to go and enlist, how could I follow the Occident +and help 'em to win the League Championship? There it is, quite +short--how? And if I didn't follow, and if others like me didn't follow, +how'd the club stick it? How'd it keep going? What price duty of staying +at home? + + I am, yours truly, + BERT SOCKSLEY. + +[Dictated.] + +Sir,--I snatch a moment to answer your letter, "Why don't I go to fight +the Germans?" I _am_ fighting them. I cleared £500 this morning which, +before the war, would have gone into a German pocket. My motto is +"Business as usual," and I have no complaints whatever against the +Germans so long as I can go on fighting them some more in my own way. + + Yours faithfully, + GEORGE CRABBE. + +My Dear Sir,--Your letter for my brother, John Halton, has reached me by +mistake, but I'll answer it. "Why don't I go?" Just send me a recipe for +turning me into a boy, and you'll not have to ask me twice. + + Yours very sincerely, + JOAN HALTON. + +Dear Sir,--I know what my job is, so don't you come poking your nose in +where it isn't wanted. I'm for England, I am. And I'm doing my bit. _The +Evening Wiper_ said only the other day that a Britisher's duty was to +keep cheerful, and that the man who did that was serving his country. +Well, I _am_ cheerful--I didn't turn a hair even over Mons--slept +exactly the same, and had bacon and tomato for my breakfast. Then they +say, "Carry on." And I do carry on. I go out as usual, dress just as +carefully--spats, fancy waistcoat, buttonhole, etc. One night it's the +Imperial and another it's the Cinema. Men are wanted to cheer the +patriotic songs and to sing the chorus of "Tipperary." I help here. Then +I spend my money freely--_freely_, I tell you. Any Tommy I meet can have +a drink--half a dozen at my expense, and no return expected. I got two +quite blind last night, and never asked 'em for a sou. Then again, I've +spent quite a lot on flags. I always wear six on the front of my bike +when I scorch through the crowds coming out of church on Sundays. I've +got portrait buttons, too, of JOFFRE and KITCH., and I'm never ashamed +to wear 'em. _And I'm always urging chaps to go and enlist._ So you see +I am doing my bit. + + Yours truly, + ALBERT SPOTTLE. + + * * * * * + +In a Good Cause. + +A _Matinée_ will be given at the Empire on Thursday, the 26th, in aid of +_The Daily Telegraph's_ Belgian Relief Fund. Among the patrons are The +JAPANESE AMBASSADOR, the BELGIAN MINISTER and the Grand Duke MICHAEL. + +Many popular _artistes_ have offered their services, including Miss +PHYLLIS BEDELLS, Miss GLADYS COOPER, Miss ETHEL LEVEY, Miss IRENE +VANBRUGH, Miss WISH WYNNE, Mr. WILKIE BARD, Mr. WILL EVANS, Mr. ALFRED +LESTER, Mr. JAMES TATE, Mr. LEWIS WALLER and Mr. JAMES WELCH. + +_Mr. Punch_ very heartily commends the cause and its advocates to his +gentle readers. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: GOOD HUNTING. + +A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: "MOTHER, LOOK AT THAT POOR SOLDIER: WOUNDED IN BOTH +FEET." + + * * * * * + +WITH ALL RESERVE. + +Departing from the time-honoured custom of believing everything they see +in print, the British people are learning in these times that one should +only run the risk of believing printed news that has passed the Censor. +By the time the war is over the new habit will have become established, +and we may look for items like the following in our daily papers:-- + +The right hon. gentleman went on to say that so long as the people of +this country permitted the present Government to remain in power, so +long would this country be governed in a manner which could never win +the approval of the Opposition. + +[The above having been passed by the Censor may be accepted as +correct.--ED.] + +The weather yesterday varied throughout the country. While in the +extreme north it was warm and sunny, in the south snow fell. A violent +hailstorm swept Battersea from end to end; yet in Stornoway the day was +marked by a sky of cloudless blue. Once more the climate of these +islands showed itself to be a fickle and unstable thing. + +[The above has been submitted to the Censor, who sees no reason why it +should be withheld from the public; and it may therefore be taken that +in the main it is moderately accurate.--ED.] + +Lady A.'s dinner-party at the Ritz Hotel last evening was not a great +success. The decorations of pink carnations were but moderately admired +by her undistinguished guests. The Blue Petrogradese Orchestra played +without particular brilliance. Among those absent without reason +assigned were the Duke and Duchess of W., the Earl and Countess X., the +Bishop of Y., and Mr. Z., the unknown poet. + +[The above has been submitted to the Censor, who possessed no official +knowledge of the facts, but considered that the report had an air of +sufficient probability.--ED.] + + * * * * * + +TO THE UNDYING HONOUR OF A SUPER-PATRIOT. + + Commemorate, ye gods, the noble mind + Of Brown (A. J.), a youth of classic parts, + Whose soul was ever faultlessly inclined + To music, verse, and all the gracious arts; + At things of taste, in fact, Augustus John + Was always, and is yet, a perfect don. + + But lately I have fathomed deeps unknown + Before in my incomparable friend; + No mere artistic trifler, he has shown + A patriot heart of high heroic trend, + And showered sacrifice with fearless hand + Upon the altar of his Motherland. + + I haled him to a "music" hall to hear + The Great Recruiting Song, and watched him wince + And writhe throughout, as though his end were near; + But now I learn that, every evening since, + Brown has been there, in England's sacred cause, + To greet that patriot song with loud applause! + + * * * * * + +AUNT LOUISA'S SONG SCENA. + +Just as adversity sometimes brings out men's strongest characteristics, +hitherto unsuspected, so can amateur theatricals lead to surprising +discoveries of humour and resource. Everyone must have noticed it. + +No one had ever credited Aunt Louisa with any dramatic sense whatever. +She is so gentle and so placid. She was always something of a knitter, +and, like all essential knitters, given to sitting a little outside of +life; but since the war broke out she has knitted practically without +ceasing; and who would dream of going to a knitter for stage effects? + +Therefore we were astonished when, in talking over the projected +Saturday night's entertainment, Aunt Louisa ventured the statement that +she had thought out a scheme for a little interlude, and might she be +permitted to carry it out? Just a mere fill up, but topical, or possibly +even more than topical--prophetic. + +Of course she might. + +"Is it a tableau?" our stage manager inquired. + +"No, I shouldn't call it a tableau," said Aunt Louisa; "I should call it +a song scena." + +How on earth did she hear that phrase? She never goes to music-halls. I +would as soon expect to hear her speak of "featuring." + +"A song scena," she went on, "the hero of which is the KAISER; and I +shall want half-a-dozen gentlemen to assist." + +The busy fingers knitted away and the gold spectacles were fixed on us +with bland benignity. Aunt Louisa writing a song scena and ordering a +chorus, just like Mr. GEORGE EDWARDES, was not the least of the miracles +produced by this war. + +A company of six of us volunteered, of whom I was one. Another was Mr. +Herbert Foley, who has made private theatricals his life study. + +"Anything I can do to help you in coaching the performers and so on," he +said, "I shall be only too pleased to do. You know I'm no chicken at +this sort of thing." + +"Thank you," said Aunt Louisa, "but I think I can manage." + +"All right," replied Mr. Foley, "but, of course----. Want of +experience----" + +"First of all," said Aunt Louisa, "I must choose a Kaiser. Someone who +can act." + +We all became very self-conscious. Our expressions said severally, "No +one can act as well as I, but it's rotten form to push oneself forward." + +Aunt Louisa scanned us narrowly and, much to everybody else's surprise, +picked out Tommy Thurlow. To my mind she could not have made a worse +choice; but, as it happened, her judgment was sound. + +Foley seemed piqued. "Then what do _we_ do?" he asked. + +"You are chorus men," said she. + +"Chorus!" said Foley. + +"Isn't that the right word? I know so little about these things. Perhaps +I ought to have said 'supers.'" + +She then told us what to do, knitting all the while. + +On the evening Aunt Louisa's song scena was the success of the show. It +was called "The Haunted Kaiser," and it began with a distracted demented +Tommy Thurlow, with the familiar Potsdam moustache and an excellent wig +from London, rushing on with his fingers in his ears. No doubt as to who +it was--the WAR LORD in a state bordering on delirium. Having calmed +down a little, he began to sing:-- + + For years and years I'd waited, + Preparing for _The Day_---- + The day that meant for Germany + A universal sway. + Alas, alack, + For my set back! + +At this point a number of tea-trays were smitten resonantly "off." Tommy +dramatically heard them and sang:-- + + What's that that smites upon my ear, + The sound of cruel guns I hear, + That sound of fear? + +More tea-tray. + + The British, French and Russians + They are murdering my Prussians: + Why did I make this war? + They're in my way by day, by night: + In vain, in vain I take to flight, + I'll hear them evermore---- + Those guns! Those guns! + +Tremendous applause, while Tommy prepared for the second verse and Aunt +Louisa's great effect. + + Alas! for my ambition, + My glory passed away! + What is there left of Germany + But misery to-day? + Alack, alas, + For such a pass! + +Here on several concertinas in different parts of the hall, as well as +upstairs, was heard, "It's a long way to Tipperary." Tommy began to +behave like a maniac. He rushed about more wildly than before. He +stopped his ears. He tried to hide. Then he began to sing again:-- + + What's that that bursts upon my ear, + That overwhelming song I hear, + That sound of fear? + Though brave my men and wary, + They've been done by "Tipperary;" + Why did I make this war? + It's in my brain by day, by night, + In vain, in vain I take to flight, + I'll hear it evermore-- + That song! That song! + +Now came the great dramatic effect. On to the stage climbed, in the +latest revue manner, from all parts of the house, the army of which I +had the honour to be one, all pointing the finger of doom at the +cringing Tommy Thurlow. Having got him well into our midst and broken to +the world, we sang at him these stirring lines to a too familiar tune:-- + + It's a long way to get to Paree, + It's a long way to go; + It's the wrong way through little Belgium, + The wrongest way we know. + Good-bye, KAISER BILLY; + Farewell, O mein Herr; + It's a long, long way to St. Helena, + But your home's right there! + +Terrific success; and, after some moments of reluctance, Aunt Louisa, +still knitting a sock, was induced to bow. + +But it wasn't a bad first effort at drama by an old lady in gold +spectacles, was it? I have seen worse by professional writers. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: _Patriotic Wife._ "NOW, RICHARD, BEFORE YOU GO, LET ME +HEAR YOU REPEAT MY INSTRUCTIONS." + +_Richard._ "I MUST REMEMBER I'M THE HUSBAND OF AN ENGLISHWOMAN, AND I'M +NOT TO COME BACK WITHOUT THE KAISER!" + + * * * * * + +Illustration: MR. THESPIAN JONES, THE FAMOUS ANIMAL IMPERSONATOR, +OFFERS HIS SERVICES AS "COLLECTING DOG" UNDER THE AUSPICES OF A RELIEF +COMMITTEE-- + +--BUT SUDDENLY FORGETS HIMSELF ON THE ARRIVAL OF GOOD NEWS FROM THE +FRONT. + + * * * * * + +THE KAISER'S "HATE." + +[The feeling in Germany, it appears, is now quite friendly towards +France and Russia, and all the fury of the Press is concentrated on +England.] + + When first the champions were listed, + When first the shells began to fall, + Some trace of animus existed + Between the Teuton and the Gaul; + King WILLIAM was extremely callous, + Nay, even found a certain zest + In riding from his Potsdam palace + To show his purple to the West. + + But what a charm the Frenchman carries! + His compliments how wide they range! + Before King WILLIAM got to Paris + His feelings underwent a change: + "Our ancient feud against the Latin," + He said, "has sensibly decreased;" + And rising from the trench he sat in + He moved his umbrage to the East. + + He trampled on the Polish border; + He cried that Russia was the foe; + The German Press received the order + And answered meekly, "That is so;" + But when King WILLIAM met the Tartar + His soul sustained another wrench, + He found the Slavs were even smarter + At entertainments than the French. + + They gave him such a royal greeting + With Cossack horsemen making curves + That WILLIAM asked them, on retreating, + To try his Prussian game preserves; + "Duke NICHOLAS is not the canker," + He told his German scribblers then; + "His treatment has disarmed my rancour" + (It certainly disarmed his men). + + "Out yonder in the circling billows + There lies the object of my scorn, + We hate these English armadilloes, + We wish they never had been born; + Their name to us is rank and fetid, + And on their sins our rage is fed;" + And all the German Press repeated + Precisely what the KAISER said. + + Eh well. That water is a worry! + And doubtless, if the iron glove + Should meet us here in Kent or Surrey, + Its clasp might soften into love; + We might despatch him with a grey grin, + And all the German Scribes would vow + "Our bugbear is the Montenegrin; + We do not hate the English now." + + But better still to cool his dudgeon + Where week by week our nobler sons + Have proved Britannia's no curmudgeon + By salvoes of applauding guns; + To save him toil without his landing, + To meet him with more warm advance, + And help to share that "understanding" + He has with Russia and with France. + + EVOE. + + * * * * * + +THE LAST LINE. + +IV. + +We progress. The days when the whole art of war consisted of "On the +left, form platoons.... On the _left_, blanket," are over. Skirmishing, +signalling, musketry, Swedish drill--a variety of entertainment is now +open to us; there is even a class for buglers. To give you an idea of +the Corps at work, I offer you a picture of James and myself semaphoring +to each other. + +James is in the middle distance, a couple of flags draped over his +person. I am going to send him a message. I signal to him that I am +about to begin; he waves back that he is ready. Now then.... + +My mind becomes a complete blank. I find that I have absolutely nothing +to say to James. + +"Go on," says my instructor. + +"Yes, but what?" I ask. All desire to interchange thought with James has +left me. + +"Anything. Ask him, if a herring and a half costs three ha'pence, how +much----" + +"Yes, but that's too long. It would take me at least a week, and by that +time the herring would be censored. No, I've got it." + +It has occurred to me suddenly that it would annoy James if I reminded +him of his professional life. He looks so military in his puttees and +khaki shirt. + +"_Do--you--want--a--nice--mortgage?_" I signal. + +James takes it up to "nice," and then breaks down. The "m-o" he reads as +"s-w" (an easy mistake to make), and he imagines that I am offering him +a nice sword--a fitting offer to one of his martial appearance. When the +third letter turns out to be not the "o" which he expected, he loses his +head and signals "Repeat." + +I give it him again slowly. He reads the first five letters as s-w-r-t-g +and assumes this time that I am offering him a nice town in Poland. It +is five minutes before we get the mortgage properly established, and by +then James is utterly disgusted. + +He is now going to send a message to me. There is nothing half-hearted +about James when he has his khaki shirt on. + +"_Why the devil don't you send up those guns?_" he signals. + +General James is hard pressed. The enemy is advancing in echelon against +his left wing; cavalry beat themselves against the hollow square on his +right; his centre has formed platoon after platoon unavailingly. Still +the enemy comes on. Where the devil are those guns? + +I signalled back: + +"_Sorry, but B Company is using the bullet._" + +It was a blow to James. Reluctantly he came to his decision. + +"_Must fall back,_" he said, and he caught a flag between his legs and +did so.... + +Well, there you have us signalling. To show you us skirmishing I cannot +do better than describe the fierce engagement between A and C Companies, +which resulted in the entire annihilation of A. But perhaps that would +not be fair. I am a prejudiced recorder; let one of A Company speak. + +He was annoyed. + +"We worked round their flank," he said, "and we'd got quite close up to +them under cover of a wood when we came on one of them smoking a pipe. +He said he was an outpost, and that he'd decimated us all long ago." + +"What did you do?" asked his friend. + +"We scragged him." + +Personally I had a safer position among the supports. A decimated enemy +in the first flush of annoyance can be dangerous. I merely lay in a +ditch and counted ants.... But I was very glad to hear we'd won. + +Rifle exercises go on apace. We have a curious collection of weapons +("weapons of precision" as they are called by those who have never seen +my targets), an order for six hundred of one family having fallen +through, owing to a clerical error. "We can offer you 600 rifles, 1900 +pattern," the firm wrote; but an inspection of them showed that the "6" +and the "9" had got mixed up. + +But even with more modern weapons than these we are not very formidable +as yet, and for some weeks we must rely on other methods of striking +terror into the hearts of the enemy. Luckily we are acquiring an +excellent substitute for lead. As an example of "frightfulness" nothing +can exceed the appearance of one of our really mixed platoons lying on +its backs and waving its legs in the air. This is one of the Swedish +drill movements ... and, as I think I have mentioned before, we are all +ages and shapes.... + +Let me conclude with a little story to show the dangers to which we are +subject and the fearlessness with which we face them. I cite the case of +Reginald Arbuthnot Wilkins. + +R. A. Wilkins is just as keen as they make them, and it is his great +sorrow that, being in an important Government office, he is not allowed +to enlist. For my liking he is too smart; when he does a "right-turn" he +does it with a jerk that you can almost hear. The click of the heels is +all very well, but Reginald Arbuthnot makes his neck click too. An +"eyes-right" nearly takes his head off. + +A dozen of them, including Reginald, were being taught saluting the +other day. There was an imaginary Field-Marshal or somebody on the left, +and they were told to turn the head smartly to the left, at the same +time bringing the right hand up to the salute.... "Sa-_lute!_" Reginald +Arbuthnot Wilkins whizzed his head round to the left, but accidentally +brought the wrong hand up. There was a crash as his left thumb met his +left eye-ball, and Reginald was in hospital for a week. + +The remarkable thing is that the other eleven, quite undismayed, went on +practising the salute. That gives you some idea of our spirit. + + A. A. M. + + * * * * * + +STRATEGIC DISEASE. + +[Some of the German military authorities having explained that their +retreat from Paris was due to the spread of cholera in that city, we may +perhaps expect to have something like the following further +"explanations" elsewhere.] + + Our recent rather smart retreat + From Warsaw need not cause disquiet; + Our army met with no defeat + Nor suffered from defective diet; + We marched away because we knew + Warsaw was reeking with the 'Flu. + + Our move from Calais was, of course, + A great strategic retrogression, + We were compelled, though not by force, + To leave another in possession; + But that's no ground for doleful dumps, + Calais was chucked because of Mumps. + + Soon we shall see, though scarce as yet, + Huns and howitzers hustled over + Yon nauseous streak of heaving wet + Which still divides our arms from Dover; + And should "high failure" then occur + Lay the whole blame on Mal-de-mer. + + * * * * * + +LE MOT JUSTE. + + "Reports of military movements behind the Germans' front in Belgium + are contradictory and too bragmentary to be worth much." + +--_Western Mail._ + + * * * * * + + "Mr. Churchill: Six, nine, twelve months hence you will begin to see + results that will spell the domm of Germany." + +--_Daily Mail._ + +We could spell it better than that in three months. + + * * * * * + + "The smallness of the members present was due in large measure to + the war." + +_Edinburgh Evening Despatch._ + +The shortage of food, due to the German blockade, is at last making +itself felt.--[_Wireless from Berlin._] + + * * * * * + +Illustration: THE HISTORY OF A PAIR OF MITTENS. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: "WAAL, IT'S THIS WAY. WE AMURRICANS DON'T TAKE NO +SIDES--WE'RE AB-SO-LOOTLY NOOTRAL. WE DON' GIVE A ROW O' BEANS WHICH OF +YOU KNOCKS THE KAISER OUT." + + * * * * * + +SAFEGUARDS. + +It was the special terms to Special Constables that tempted me--and I +fell. + +I don't just remember how many times I fell, but it was pretty nearly as +often as the "Professor" of the wily art took hold of me. Before the +first lesson was over, falling became more than a mere pastime with me, +it grew into a serious occupation. + +So I left the jiu-jitsu school at the end of the second lesson with a +nodding acquaintance with some very pretty holds and a very firm +determination to practise them on Alfred when he got back to the office +next day from Birmingham. + + * * * + +I suppose I ought to have persevered with my lessons a little longer, +but I was losing my self-respect, and felt that nothing would help me to +gain it better than to cause somebody else to do the falling for a bit. + +Alfred is six-foot-two, but a trifle weedy-looking, and so good-tempered +that I knew he wouldn't resent being practised on. + +As he came in I advanced with outstretched hand to meet him. + +"How goes it?" he said cheerily, holding out his hand. + +"Like this," I said, as I gripped his right wrist instead of his +fingers, turned to the left till I was abreast of him, inserted my left +arm under his right, gripped the lapel of his coat with my left hand and +turning his wrist downward with my right, pressed his arm back. To +attack unexpectedly is the great thing. + +"Don't be a funny ass," said Alfred, as I lifted myself out of the +waste-paper basket. + +How I got there I wasn't quite sure, but concluded that I had muffed the +business with my left arm by not inserting it well above his elbow for +the leverage. + +"Sorry," I said; "the new handshake. Everybody's doing it." + +"Are they?" said Alfred. "Well, I've been having some lessons in +etiquette myself the last few days from a naval man I met down at Hythe. +Seen the new embrace?" + +"Er--no," I said, putting a chair between us, "I don't think I have; but +I'm not feeling affectionate this morning. I'm going to lunch." + +Thank goodness, if I do meet a spy, I've got a truncheon and a whistle. + + * * * * * + +MAKING THE BEST OF IT. + + "Now that supplies of German chemicals and drugs are not procurable, + sufferers from nervous dyspepsia, etc., should give a trial to + nervous dispepsia, etc." + +_Bristol Evening Times._ + +_Sufferer (after trial)._ "No, it's just as painful spelt with an 'i'." + + * * * * * + + "Other Petrograd despatches state that an increase in taxation by + one-half is expected.... It is believed the increase will produce a + milliard of troubles."--_The Mirror (Trinidad)._ + +We think better of Russian patriotism. + + * * * * * + + "Four or five had been landed at Ramsgate. + It was a comparatively fine, peaceful morning. + People were resting on the promenade + enjoying the sea, and the fresh air anglers of + both sexes were calmly fishing from the pier." + +_Glasgow Herald._ + +A hardy race, these South Coast fresh-air anglers. Our idea of November +sport with the rod is sniggling for goldfish in the conservatory. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: THE EAGLE COMIQUE. + +KAISER (_reviving old Music-hall refrain_). "HAS ANYBODY HERE SEEN +_CALAIS_?" + + * * * * * + +Illustration: THE RULING PASSION. + +"'TEN-_SHUN_! FORM _FOURS_!" + + * * * + +ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. + +(EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.) + +_House of Commons, Wednesday, 11th November._--Both Houses met for what +will be last Session of ever-memorable Parliament. Usual ceremony at +State Opening by KING, but atmosphere distinctly different from that +familiar on such occasions. No crowd talking and gesticulating in Lobby +before SPEAKER takes the Chair. That done, Benches seemed strangely +empty. In Commons, as in Lords, most men wore mourning, the gloom a +little lightened here and there by khaki uniform. Whilst LEADER OF +OPPOSITION and PRIME MINISTER spoke Members sat silently attentive. Only +now and then subdued cheer indicated approval of a statement or a +sentiment. There was sign neither of depression nor elation. The +country, fitly represented within these four walls, has undertaken a +great task, its performance making heavy demand of blood and money. At +whatever cost mean to see it through. Meanwhile are grimly silent. + +In course of brief proceedings curious instance forthcoming of +prevalence of martial spirit even in unexpected quarters. Did not +witness it myself, being at the moment engaged in showing a constituent +the House of Lords at historic moment when, in absence of LEADER OF +CONSERVATIVE PARTY, GEORGE CURZON rose temporarily to assume functions +he will surely inherit. Story told me by the MEMBER FOR SARK, whom I +find a (more or less) trustworthy recorder. + +Seems that two new Members were in attendance prepared to take oath and +their seat. In accordance with custom they were ranged at the Bar +awaiting SPEAKER'S summons. Observing one of them between his +introducers, SPEAKER stiffly drew himself up to full height, and called +out in ringing tones-- + +"'Ten-_shun_! Form _Fours_!" + +House stared in amazement. Nothing disconcerts Mr. LOWTHER. Recognizing +slip, he quietly ignored it; made fresh start. + +"Order! Order! Members desiring to take their seats will please come to +the Table." + +Thereupon PRESIDENT OF BOARD OF AGRICULTURE, assisted by Mr. BURT, the +revered Father of the House, affably conducted towards the Table his +parent, Sir WALTER RUNCIMAN, newly elected Member for Hartlepool. Having +seen him duly sign roll of Parliament he stood him tea on the Terrace, +made him free of the smoking-room, and invited him to partake to-morrow +night of famous House shilling dinner. + +These filial amenities pleasantly vary the austerity of Parliamentary +life. + +_Business done._--Parliament reassembled. Address in reply to Speech +from the Throne moved in both Houses. + +_House of Lords, Thursday._--A new-comer to Ministerial Bench. It is +LORD FISHER OF KILVERSTONE, commonly and affectionately known as "Jack." +Three years ago, fatal age limit being reached, Admiralty regretfully +but compulsorily dropped the Pilot. Now, three years older as the +almanack counts, actually as young as ever, the Pilot is picked up +again. His appearance at the helm greeted with hearty cheer resounding +from shore to shore. + + * * * + +Illustration: "THE PILOT IS PICKED UP AGAIN." + +[LORD FISHER COMES ABOARD.] + + * * * + +Everyone knows that present condition of Navy, making it dominant on all +seas, is mainly due to him. Recognized as fitting thing that he should +be placed in charge of weapon that with patient endeavour, supreme +skill, unerring foresight he had forged. Never yet in time of war have +these Islands been in such safe keeping. With K. K. at the War Office +and JACK FISHER at the Admiralty British householder may sleep in his +bed o' nights unafraid. + +By another happy concatenation of circumstance Admiralty is represented +in both Houses. With WINSOME WINSTON in the Commons and JACK FISHER in +the Lords, the Navy will have a good show. Only doubt is whether FIRST +SEA LORD will think it worth while to devote to Parliamentary duties the +measure of time exacted from FIRST LORD OF ADMIRALTY. Essentially a man +of action, he has little patience with custom of talking round a matter. +Nevertheless well to know that, if occasion serve, he can make a speech +far beyond average in respect of power and originality. Discovery made +when, six or seven years ago, he fluttered the decorous dovecotes of the +Royal Academy by delivering at its annual banquet a memorable speech on +condition and prospects of Navy. + +Unlikely, too, that JACK FISHER will take part in perfunctory +performances, as when the House, meeting at 4.15, sits twiddling its +noble thumbs till 4.30, the hour on stroke of which public business +commences. There being none, or not any that occupies more than five +minutes, they straight-way adjourn. But, if serious debate on Naval +affairs arises, FIRST SEA LORD may be counted upon to be at his post. + +_Business done_:--Address agreed to. House adjourned till Monday. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: A PROMISING SLEUTH-PUP. + +_Nurse._ "I WONDER IF THAT MAN'S A GERMAN SPY?" + +_Young Briton._ "OH, NO, NURSE! HE CAN'T BE. HE HASN'T GOT A GUN!" + + * * * * * +A DEBT OF HONOUR. + + [The author would be very proud if his lines might bring in any + subscriptions to the Belgian Relief Fund. Cheques, payable to + "Belgian Relief Fund," should be sent to the Belgian Minister, 15 + West Halkin Street, S. W.] + + Old England's dark o' nights and short + Of 'buses; still she's much the sort + Of place we always used to know. + There's women lonely--hid away, + But mills at work and kids at play, + And docks alive with come and go. + + But Belgium's homes is blasted down; + Her shops is ash-heaps, town by town; + There's harvests soaked and full of dead; + There's Prussians prowling after loot + And choosing who they'd better shoot; + There's kids gone lost; there's fights for bread. + + It's thanks to that there strip of sea, + And what floats on it, you and me + And things we love aren't going shares + In German culture. They'd 'a' tried + To spare us some, but we're this side. + It's so arranged--no fault of theirs. + + Them Belgians had the chance to shirk, + And watch, instead of do, the work; + But no! They chose a bigger thing + And blocked the bully; gave us breath + To get our coats off. Sure as death + They're Men--a King of Men for King. + + Don't think they're beat with what they've got, + And begging pennies, 'cos they're not. + It's this--their job is good and done; + They're fighting-pals; they're hungry, cold; + We owe for blood that's more than gold-- + A debt of honour, or we've none. + + They've stood for us; for them we'll stand + Right through; and so we'll lend a hand + Until the foe's account is quit. + That happy day is working through; + But, meanwhiles, it's for me and you-- + Well, dash it, pass along your bit. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: "WHY, JACOB, WE THOUGHT A STURDY CHAP LIKE YOU WOULD +HAVE ENLISTED. THERE'S NOT A SOUL GONE FROM THE VILLAGE." + +"BAIN'T THERE, THEN? THEY'VE GOT VOWER O' MAISTER'S 'ORSES!" + + * * * * * + +A TRAGIC MISTAKE AT POTSDAM. + +(_In the manner of the Spy Books._) + +At about half-past ten this morning I took my little black bag and +walked to the Palace. Presenting my pass, I was about to enter by the +side door reserved for civilians when I felt a heavy blow on my shoulder +and, turning, beheld an officer. Forbidding me to apologise he led me +into the palace by another door, and, placing me in a small room and +enjoining strict silence upon me, he left me alone. This was so +different from the procedure adopted on former occasions that I took +stock of my surroundings. The room was obviously a waiting-room, +containing as it did a pianola, a gramophone and a photograph album of +German generals. I was aroused from my slumbers about two and a-half +hours later and beheld before me an elderly bespectacled officer. I knew +him at once from the picture postcards as Bluteisen, head of the secret +service. He examined me minutely, omitting, however, to look into my +little black bag, which clearly escaped his notice. I began to explain, +but he ordered silence and beckoned me to follow. He led me up three +flights of stairs, along a corridor, down four flights, and so on for +about three-quarters of an hour, his idea, I suppose, being completely +to mystify me. At length we arrived at a door deep under-ground, upon +which Bluteisen knocked mysteriously. Receiving no answer he turned to +me and said, "Push." I leaned hard upon the door, fell suddenly forward +and stepped briskly into the room. + +We were in total darkness save for a circle of green light at the +further end of the apartment. In this circle was a desk, at which was +seated a man writing. One glance at him and I trembled with excitement. +_I was in the Presence._ + +For fully thirty minutes he kept me standing. Nothing was heard but an +occasional graunch, graunch, as he devoured the end of his pen. At last +he spoke. "Number?" he said. + +I was about to stammer an explanation, but Bluteisen cut me short with a +warning look, saluted and said, "Three nine double nine." + +"How long have you been here?" the Personage asked. + +"About three hours," I replied. + +He seemed pleased. Then he gave me a paper. "Read that," he said. + +I read it. My hair, usually complacent, rose with fear and astonishment. +What I read was this:--"You will blow up the British Albert Memorial at +your earliest convenience. Telegraph when completed, if still alive." + +"Have you got it?" he asked. I could only nod. He then held the paper in +the flame of a candle till he scorched his finger and thumb. + +"You will never see that again," he said. And I never did. Then he +thrust his face at me. "You will succeed?" he snapped. "Sire," I +ventured, my head swimming with apprehension, "I--I humbly apologise, +but I--I have never yet blown up anything." + +"What!" he shrieked, giving to his moustaches an upward direction, +"what! you are Number three nine double nine, from the Ammunition +section, are you not?" + +"No, Sire," I replied, "I'm sorry, but I'm not in any section at all." + +There was a terrible silence. With one eye he annihilated me, with the +other he detained Bluteisen, who was sneaking off into the darkness. +Then in a fury he hissed, "What are you? What are you doing here?" + +With choking voice I blurted out the simple truth. "Sire," I said, "I +have the honour to inform you that I am here to tune the Imperial +piano." + +I understand that I am to be shot at dawn to-morrow. So, thank heaven, +is Bluteisen. + + * * * * * + +THE DOCTHOR'S WAR SPEECH. + +Martin Cassidy told it to me. He was there, and he saw the boys form +fours when they marched to the station the next day. There were +seventeen of them, and he said he'd never forget it. + +"'Twas the Docthor's war speech that did ut," said Martin. "He had thim +all in Micky's shebeen--sure they'd have been there annyhow--and the +Docthor had volunteeerd himself; why not? + +"Yes, the women and childer were admitted. Wouldn't they be wantin' to +know the way of it? Av coorse. + +"You'd not keep them out annyway. 'Tis the whole of Ballymurky that was +there that night. + +"'Twas an o-ration the Docthor gave thim. Ye could have heard a pin +drop. Isn't it mesilf that would be away there now, if they'd let me? +Didn't Patsy Doolan have to sit on me head to keep me from gettin' into +the thrain with thim? + +"'Sure the KING knows ye've been drawin' the ould-age pension this two +years,' sez he. 'Won't he have it down in his note-book?' sez he; 'and +you wanten to pass for thirty. Gwan,' sez he." + +Old Martin applied a piece of glowing turf to his pipe and sucked +audibly before continuing. + +"Don't I remimber ivery wurrd the Docthor shpoke," said Martin +slowly--"och, the way he had with him. + +"'The KAISER is it?' sez he. 'What would ye be askin' for betther?' sez +he. ''Tis this way and that way wid the KAISER,' sez he, 'and he'll not +be aisy till he's wiped Ballymurky off the map, so he would. And the +GERMAN EMPEROR is as bad,' sez he. 'It's Bairrlin or Ballymurky, boys, +so it is,' sez he; 'just that. + +"'Is ut have the Germans over here in Ballymurky ye would?' sez he. +'Sure 'tis not butthermilk and praties they'd be contint with, Doolan, +me boy,' sez he; 'faith 'tis your pig they'd be afther atin. And 'tis +not you the KAISER would be decoratin' with an iron cross; 'tis more +like a lick of his shtick ye'd be afther gettin, Doolan--and the +thrubble ye've taken with the rarin' of the crayther. Och, ye could +nivver look the pig in the face again if ye shtayed.'" + +Martin subsided a while to show me Doolan's pig, which was taking the +air outside. "And that," he remarked, "is corrosive ividence of what I'm +tellin' ye." The pig grunted his compliments, and Martin continued. + +"'Wait till I tell ye what they did at Louvain,' sez the Doc. 'Whist +now, till ye hear this,' sez he. + +"'Och, 'twas black murther they did there, the villians! The currse of +CRUMMLE seize thim,' sez he. 'Arrah! hould yoursilf in, you there, +Conlan,' sez he; 'go aisy, now,' sez he; 'sure they'll do worse here. +'Tis not satisfied with Louvain they'll be, Shamus; 'tis knockin' your +cabin about your ears ye'll have them--and what will hersilf say to +that?' sez he; 'sure, 'twill be the best vintilated cabin in Ireland, so +it will.' + +"'Is ut the GERMAN EMPEROR ye would have sittin' shmokin' his pipe in +your cabin and fryin' sausages in your best pan, without so much as by +your lave, and you waitin' on him, Mrs. Murphy?' + +"'Sure, ye know it is not, Docthor dear,' sez she. + +"'Drivin up and down the street in your side-car he'd be, Patsy Burrke, +him and his ginerals, till your horse dropped dead on him, and divil a +bit he'd care. + +"'I'm lookin' at you there, Larry,' sez the Docthor. ''Tis waitin' for +Molly to say the wurrd ye are, Larry, me boy: but sure 'tis yourself +that'll say the wurrd now. Och, 'tis fallin' over herself Molly will be +to see ye in your rigimintals. + +"'Ballymurky, is ut? Arrah ye'll not know Ballymurky afther the KAISER +has done with it. Isn't it changing the name of the dear ould place that +he'll be afther? + +"'First-class he'd be thravellin', no less, with the boots of him on the +sate, and him without a ticket; and 'tis Rothenberg would be the name on +the station, bad cess to him! + +"'Rothenberg! d'ye hear that, Casey? And you a railway porther. Isn't +KITCHENER an Irishman, good luck to him, and isn't he lookin' for ye all +to go? Isn't the TSAR of Russia himself goin' to Berlin, and won't he be +lookin' for ye there, Micky? What'll he think if ye are not there to +meet him? "So Micky didn't come," he'll say; "what's come over him?" +he'll say. "Sure he's not the boy I thought he was," he'll say. Just +that. And you there, Micky, ye divil, all the time. Ye'd have the laugh +on him thin, Micky, so ye would. + +"'"Begorra!" he'll say, looking round, "sure the whole of Ballymurky's +here." And why not? Bedad 'tis not the first time that Ballymurky's been +on the spree. + +"'The KAISER is ut, boys,' sez the Docthor. 'Arrah have done with ye,' +sez he. 'Sure there won't be anny KAISER worth mintioning afther +Ballymurky's finished wid him...." + +"Be this and be that I'm thinkin' the same too," said Old Martin +Cassidy, as he relighted his pipe. + + * * * * * + +THE LIMIT OF IGNORANCE. + +(_Mr. ARNOLD BENNETT in one of his recent works speaks of having met a +Town Clerk who had never heard of H. G. WELLS._) + + As in a Midland city park + Great BENNETT latterly was walking, + He came across a live Town Clerk, + Who, as they stopped and fell a-talking, + Confessed--so truthful ARNOLD tells-- + _He'd never heard of H. G. WELLS!_ + + This ghastly ignorance, alas! + Of that renowned investigator, + Whom every age and every class + Hails as its only educator, + Is no experience isolated, + But can be promptly duplicated. + + The only Mayor I know--at least + I know by sight--a splendid creature, + Whose presence at a civic feast + Is always a conspicuous feature, + Has lately in his favourite organ + Proclaimed his ignorance of DE MORGAN. + + Again, the other day I ran + Against a friend ('twas in Long Acre), + A simple estimable man-- + He plies the trade of undertaker-- + Who filled me with dismay and awe + By asking, "Who is BERNARD SHAW?" + + My hatter, too, who ranks among + The leaders of his useful calling, + Shows in regard to FILSON YOUNG + An apathy that's quite appalling, + For this benighted, blighted hatter + Has never read _The Things that Matter_! + + Saddest of all, a Don I know, + A man of curious futile learning, + Studied JANE AUSTEN long ago + With admiration undiscerning, + Till _Mr. Bennett_, thanks to JANE, + Ousted all others from his brain. + + * * * * * + +THE OLD BULLDOG BREED. + +_The Wavecrest Hydro, Hastings._ + +_To the Editor of "Punch."_ + +Dear Sir,--I have on several previous occasions communicated to you some +instructive and illuminating examples of the extraordinary intelligence +of my dog Boanerges, but so far (doubtless owing to extreme pressure on +your space) you have not been able to publish them. + +In view of the present grave national emergency, however, I feel +confident that you will be able to find space for the latest instance. + +Boanerges is of the old bulldog breed; that is to say, he is not +precisely a bulldog, but inherits the breed from one of his +grandfathers. Superficially he presents more the appearance of a +wire-haired retriever pom, and it has been difficult to classify him at +Dog Shows. Indeed, I have claimed for him (though unsuccessfully up to +the present) a new class, viz., Pom-Poms. _The Canine Chronicle_ lent me +the weight of its editorial support, suggesting as an alternative name: +Dum-Dums, or Soft-Nosed Bullettes, but I fear me it was scarcely +dignified enough to carry weight with the authorities. + +However, all that is by the way. His heart is in the right place. No +WILHELM shall land upon Hastings soil while Boanerges guards the beach. + +To resume, it is my custom to take Boanerges with me on my weekly visit +to a local picture palace. He enjoys it; it stimulates his already keen +intelligence; and there is no charge made for dogs. He stands on my +knees with his fore-paws on the stall in front, and follows the films +with rapt attention. Occasionally he will express his approval or +disapproval by barking, but always in a thoroughly gentlemanly way. He +is critical, but not captious; laudatory, but not fulsome. He makes +allowances for the limitations of the camera. He usually cheers at what, +I believe, are technically known as "the chases," and his hearty bark of +approval is welcomed by the manager of the theatre and by the regular +patrons. Indeed, I firmly believe that Boanerges attracts extra +patronage to the Thursday matinées. He also enjoys lions and tigers, but +not crocodiles or snakes. As I have said, he is of the old bulldog +breed. + +On Thursday last I took Boanerges with me as usual. It was a dull +programme at first, being chiefly devoted to imaginative drama in a Red +Indian reservation. Boanerges growled the old bulldog growl once or +twice, and I could see that he was disappointed with the performance. + +Then came the film of topical events. A heading appeared on the screen: +"The Germans in Louvain." I could feel Boanerges stiffen all over his +wiry bristles. + +The stark ruins were shown, with Prussian soldiers on arrogant +sentry-go. Somebody, no doubt a refugee, hissed out: "_A bas les +Bosches!_" Boanerges growled a deep menace. + +Then came a picture of the main square of Louvain, with a group of +generals waiting for the march-past and the salute. The soldiers marched +towards us, victorious and triumphant, _at the goose-step_. + +That was the breaking-point. Flesh and blood could stand it no longer. +All the bulldog strain pounded in his veins. With a roar of anger such +as I have never before heard from him, Boanerges leapt from my +restraining hands and made for the picture. + +He dashed straight at the screen and through it! He devoured a whole +company of goose-stepping Prussians at, so to speak, one mouthful. + +I also, unwontedly moved, rose in my seat and shouted, "Up and at 'em!" + +Boanerges hit the boarding behind the screen, and I think that his nose, +now in bandages, is permanently damaged. Still, his brave deed echoes +through Hastings, and recruiting in the town is brisker than it has ever +been before. + +This time, Sir, I feel confident that you will not refuse Boanerges his +well-deserved place in your columns. + + Yours, etc., + ANTONY MCWHIRTER. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: _Daughter_ (_whose husband is at the front_), "OH, MOTHER, +ISN'T IT SPLENDID? HARRY'S SENT ME THIS PAPER WITH A MARKED PASSAGE +ABOUT WHAT HE'S BEEN DOING. IT SAYS, 'CAPTAIN ---- OF THE ---- +FUSILIERS, UNDER HEAVY ----, RESCUED ---- FROM THE ----.' NOW EVERYBODY +WILL KNOW HOW BRAVE HE IS!" + + * * * * * + +PARIS AGAIN. + + Big blue overcoat and breeches red as red, + And a queer quaint _képi_ at an angle on his head; + And he sang as he was marching, and in the Tuilleries + You could meet him _en permission_ with Margot on his knee. + At the little _café_ tables by the dusty palms in tubs, + In the Garden of the Luxembourg, among the scented shrubs, + On the old Boul. Mich. of student days, you saw his red and blue; + Did you come to love the _fantassin, le p'tit piou-piou_? + + He has gone, gone, vanished, like a dream of yesternight; + He is out amongst the hedges where the shrapnel smoke is white; + And some of him are singing still and some of him are dead, + And blood and mud and sweat and smoke have stained his blue and red. + He is out amongst the hedges and the ditches in the rain, + But, when the _soixante-quinzes_ are hushed, just hark!--the old refrain, + "_Si tu veux faire mon bonheur, Marguérite, O Marguérite_," + Ringing clear above the rifles and the trampling of the feet! + + Ah, may _le bon Dieu_ send him back again in blue and red, + With his queer quaint _képi_ at an angle on his head! + So the Seine shall laugh again beneath the sunlight's quick caress; + So the Meudon woods shall echo once again to "_La Jeunesse_"; + And all along the Luxembourg and in the Tuilleries, + We shall meet him _en permission_ with Margot on his knee. + + * * * * * + +UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER. + +No. VIII. + +(_From Richard Dickson, generally known as Cock-eyed Dick, Private in +the South Loamshire Light Infantry._) + +I suppose I ought to beg your Majesty's humble pardon for using a pencil +for this letter, but it's a good pencil, and, anyhow, we don't run to +ink in the trenches. I don't want to be disrespectful to your Majesty's +Highness. Fact is I'm just a bit fond of you; you're doing our chaps +such a world of good, keeping our hearts up in a manner of speaking and +making us all so angry. When your regiments come out against us, the +word goes round, and it's "Steady, boys; remember we're a contemptible +little army; let's show 'em a bit of contemptible shooting at 800 +yards," or "Fix your contemptible bayonets and go for 'em;" and I +warrant there's many a German chap out of the fighting line for good and +all just on account of that nasty word. + +There's another word, too, that some of your chaps have slung at us. +They say we're a "mercenary" lot, meaning that we took up with +soldiering just because we're paid to do it. Well, we _are_ paid a +shilling or two now and then, but don't you go and make no mistake; we +don't stick it out in the trenches, with Black Marias playing bowls with +us, and the machine-guns crackling at us and the snipers picking us off +just because of getting a few shillings, which very often we don't get +regular. We're in for this job, ah, and we're going to see it through, +too, because we think it's the right thing to do and because we wanted +to do a turn of fighting. We ain't bloodthirsty, and I'm not going to +say we shall be miserable when it's all over, but while it's going on we +like it. There's risks everywhere, even with the quietest jobs. I knew a +chap once as drove a goat-cart for children at the seaside, and one day +when the wind was strong it blew off his hat, and he got to chasing it, +and before he knew where he was he'd gone over the cliff. A careful man +he was, too, but he hadn't reckoned up that particular chance when he +put his savings into a goat and a two-wheeled cart. You can't think of +everything, even if you happen to be a Kaiser. I've heard, by the way, +that you ain't paid so badly for _your_ job of Kaisering; and old Uncle +Franky over in Austria, he rakes 'em in, too, but we don't call you a +mercenary pair, though what drove you to take up the business is more +than I can make out. + +I don't want you to go and make no mistake. You've stirred us up a bit +with all your talk, but we've got no grudge against your soldiers. We +don't _hate_ 'em. They're good fighting men, though I'm not saying that +we ain't better, and good fighting men don't hate one another. We got +one of your blokes the other day. He came on with the attack, and when +we'd beaten it off, there he was still coming on. He'd dropped his rifle +and his helmet was off, and he was groping about with his hands, and he +wasn't shouting "Hock! Hock!" but he didn't stop. We didn't loose off at +him, there was something so funny about him, and in another minute he +tumbled in right atop of us and we took him. He told us afterwards he'd +lost his spectacles and couldn't see a yard in front of him, and that +was the reason for his being so brave. He talked English, too, but in a +funny way, slow and particular and like as if he'd got a bit of suet +pudding in his mouth. Well, we soon made him snug and tidy and then we +started to pull his leg and fill him up, and he swallowed it all down. +We told him something had gone wrong with the beefsteak pie and the jam +tartlets and the orange jelly, and he'd have to satisfy himself with his +own rations; but to-morrow there'd be a prime cut of mutton and an +apple-tart; and he believed all our fairy tales and said he'd write the +story of the English army's food if ever he got home alive. He was a +learned man too, but his lost spectacles gave him a lot of trouble. The +end of it was we made quite a pet of him, and we were quite sorry when +we got relieved and took him to the rear and handed him over as a +prisoner. There wasn't any hatred about it. + + Yours, + COCK-EYED DICK. + + * * * * * + +REPATRIATION. + + An interesting alien, he charmed our hours of ease, + Being either Blue Hungarian or Purple Viennese, + And he cut a gorgeous figure in his blue (or purple) suit + As he coaxed enticing noises from (I think it was) the flute. + + If his name upon the programme ever chanced to be defined, + It was Otto Heinrich Ollendorf, or something of the kind, + But his casual conversation served surprisingly to show + That the accent of Vienna much resembled that of Bow. + + When the rumour ran that battle was a-going to begin, + He was heard to say _his_ country would inevitably win + (Had it chanced that in my presence such an insult had been said, + As he wasn't able-bodied, I'd have punched the beggar's head). + + He declined in public favour; it was rumoured he was sent + To keep watch upon our doings as he puffed his instrument, + And we said, "Eject this alien, let him soothe the savage breast + In a beer-house at Vienna or a band at Budapest." + + But the way was not so lengthy to his own, his native land; + And where British flautists whistle in a wholly British band + He performs as well as ever, and confesses to the town + (With no fear of unemployment) that his proper name is Brown. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: _Tommy_ (_reaching flooded trench lately occupied by the +enemy_). "WELL, THEY SAY THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE 'OME; BUT IT'S A BLOOMIN' +UNCOMFORTABLE PLACE TO MAKE SUCH A FUSS ABOUT LEAVIN'!" + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._) + +_Sinister Street, Vol. II._ (SECKER) is a book for which I have been +waiting impatiently this great while, and I welcomed it with eagerness. +The first volume left off, you may remember, with _Michael_ just about +to go up to Oxford. Knowing what Mr. COMPTON MACKENZIE could do with +such a theme, I have anticipated all these months that to watch his hero +at the university would be to renew my own youth. The book has appeared +now, and I am justified of my faith. I say without hesitation that the +first half of this second volume (which, by the way, to show that it is +a second volume and not a sequel, starts at page 499) is the most +complete and truest picture of modern Oxford that has been or is likely +to be written. For those who, like myself, have their most cherished +memories bound up with the life of which it treats, the actuality of the +whole thing would make criticism impossible. But as a matter of fact +these seventeen chapters seem to me to show Mr. MACKENZIE'S art at its +best. They display just that strange combination of realism and +aloofness that gives to his writing its special charm. No one has ever +(for example) reproduced more perfectly the talk of young men; and this +scattered speech, in what Mr. MACKENZIE himself might call its +infinitely fugacious quality, contrasts effectively with the deliberate, +somewhat mannered beauty of the setting. Mr. MACKENZIE is an overlord of +words, old and new, bending them to strange and unexpected uses, yet +always avoiding affectation by the sheer vitality of his strength. As +for the matter of these first chapters, one might say that nothing +whatever happens in them. They are an epic of adolescence wherein growth +is the only movement. Events are for the second half of the volume. Here +_Michael_ has come down from Oxford, and has set himself to find and +rescue by marriage the girl _Lily_, whom (you remember) he loved as a +boy, and who has since drifted into the underworld. About this part of +the story I will only say that, though the art is still there and the +same haunting melody of style, Mr. MACKENZIE has too strong a sense of +atmosphere to allow him to treat squalor in a fashion that will be +agreeable to the universe. Frankly, the over-nice will be prudent to +take leave of _Michael_ on the Oxford platform. The others, following to +the end, will agree with me that he has placed his creator definitely at +the head of the younger school of English fiction. + + * * * * * + +For me, the pleasure of travelling consists less in the sight of +museums, cathedrals, picture galleries and landscapes, than in the study +of the native man in the street and his peculiar ways. When abroad, "I +am content to note my little facts," and so is Mr. GEO. A. BIRMINGHAM; +in fact, it was he who first thought of mentioning the matter. The +reverend canon tours in the U.S.A., which is, when you come to think of +it, about the only safe area for the purpose nowadays; he observes the +manners and oddities of the Americans, whether as politicians, pressmen, +hustlers, holiday-makers, hosts, undergraduates, husbands or wives, and +remarks upon them, in _Connaught to Chicago_ (NISBET), with just that +quiet and unboisterous humour which his public has come to demand of him +as of right. His first chapter shows that he has ever in mind the +multitude of his fellow-countrymen who have, in the past, made the same +journey but for good and all. This memory leads him at times into +excessive praise of his subjects, especially the ladies, and so to +apparent disparagement of his people at home. For my part I vastly +prefer the Irish, men, women and children, in Ireland to all or any of +their relatives and friends elsewhere; for when they leave their island +their humour runs to seed and loses that detachment and delicacy which +constitute its unique charm. That Mr. BIRMINGHAM, however, was not +nearly long enough abroad to suffer this deterioration, must be patent +to all who linger over this happy book. + + * * * * * + +If Miss JESSIE POPE receives her just reward, she will soon have to put +a notice in the daily papers to the effect that she is grateful for kind +enquiries, but is unable at present to answer them. For I think that any +enterprising boy who reads _The Shy Age_ (GRANT RICHARDS) will forthwith +make it his business to find out the name of the school at which _Jack +Venables_ amused himself, and that even if unavoidable circumstances +prevent him from going there he will, at any rate, remain disgruntled +until he can place his finger upon it on the map. After reading those +tales of school and holiday life, I can only say that the school which +harboured me must have been a dull place, and that I should now like to +return there for a term at least--I doubt if I should be allowed to stay +longer--and liven things up. Miss POPE starts with one great advantage +over men who write of boys' schools, because the critics cannot say that +her work is autobiographical, and then proceed to "recognise" most of +her characters. That is the terror lurking by day and night for any man +who dares to write a school-tale. On the other hand, although Miss POPE +has fitted herself remarkably well into the skin of _Jack Venables_, who +tells these stories but is not (thank goodness) the hero of most of +them, she has not been able entirely to avoid what I must call Papal +touches. For instance, I do not believe that a boy of _Jack's_ age and +character would use the word "feasible," and a special society would +have to be started for the prevention of cruelty to any boy who ventured +to talk of his "aunties." On the whole, however, she has a fine +understanding of boy-nature, and if there are some improbabilities in +these ingenious stories, she is armed with the crushing retort that the +chief characteristic of any properly equipped boy is his improbability. + + * * * * * + +Possibly owing to some personal disinclination towards violent bodily +exertion on the part of his creator, _Father Brown_, the criminal +investigator of Mr. G. K. CHESTERTON'S fancy, is not a fellow of +panther-like physique. For him no sudden pouncing on the frayed +carpet-edge, or the broken collar-stud dyed with gore. He carries no +lens and no revolver. Flashes of psychological insight are more to him +than a meticulous examination of the window-sill. When the motive is +instantly transparent, why bother about the murderer's boots? In the +circumstances it is perhaps fortunate for the reverend sleuth that he +nearly always happens to be in either at the death or immediately after +it, instead of being summoned a day or two later when the grotesque +circumstances of the crime have baffled the panting ingenuity of +Scotland Yard. You find him now in this part of England, and now in +that, now in America, and now in Italy. He is, in fact, a hedge-priest +and has not even a cure of souls in Baker Street. But wherever he goes +with his flapping hat and his umbrella he chances on some fantasy of +guilt. Yet any pangs we may feel for the absence of the familiar +setting--the pale-faced butler in the guarded dining-room of the +country-house and the staggered minions of the local constabulary--are +assuaged by the brilliant narrative manner in which _The Wisdom of +Father Brown_ (CASSELL) is set forth. Here is the paradoxical world of +Mr. CHESTERTON'S imagination described in his own verbiage and proved by +actual and grisly events. In that starry dream of a detective story +which I sometimes have, where sleuth-hounds are pattering along the +Milky Way and pursue at last the Great Bear to his den, _Father Brown_ +and _Sherlock Holmes_, the one spectacled, the other lynx-eyed, are +following the prey in leash. + + * * * * * + +Should you, among wild by-ways of Donegal or Connemara, meet a +procession composed of _Patsy McCann_ the Tinker and the Ass and _Mary_ +with _Finaun_ the Archangel, _Caeltia_ the Seraph, _Art_ the Cherub, +_Eileen ni Cooley_ (a savage lady of easy morals), _Billy the Music_, +the Seraph Cuchulain and _Brien O'Brien_, a lost soul who had a +threepenny-bit stolen on him by _Cuchulain_ that same, you would guess +there's only one living man could be behind it--to wit JAMES STEPHENS, +_Crock-of-Gold_ STEPHENS. Fantastic things indeed happen in _The +Demi-Gods_ (MACMILLAN), which is a kind of inspired nightmare, a sort of +Chestertonian inconsequence done into Gaelic, a little less violent and +with a little less malt, but even less coherent. At the risk of being +reckoned among the egregiously imperceptive I would ask Mr. STEPHENS +solemnly whether he is not in danger of letting his fancy take bit +between teeth and land him in some bog of sheer literary chaos. The most +distant of the futurists notwithstanding, there must be some rules to +the game or you don't get your work of art. When those modern wizards of +the halls set themselves to a piece of _bizarre_ juggling, say, with a +string of pearls, a dumb-bell and a rose-petal, they do toss and +catch--don't merely let everything just drop. Mr. STEPHENS will know +what I mean without caring overmuch. There's something in it all the +same. Anyway, there really are in _The Demi-Gods_ delicate shy pearls +and gleams of the authentic gold of the original _Crock_. And after all +it wasn't written for middle-aged gentlemen of the Saxon tribe. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: GERMAN SPIES TAKING LESSONS FROM CONJURER IN THE ART OF +CONCEALING PIGEONS. + + * * * * * + +Another Impending Apology. + + "The Shipton family were too well known for anything to be said in + their praise."--_Buxton Advertiser._ + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. +147, NOVEMBER 18, 1914*** + + +******* This file should be named 29072-8.txt or 29072-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/9/0/7/29072 + + + +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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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, November 18, 1914</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: Owen Seaman</p> +<p>Release Date: June 8, 2009 [eBook #29072]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 147, NOVEMBER 18, 1914***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span></p> + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>VOLUME 147.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>November 18, 1914.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p>Contrary to the usual custom there were no official dinners on the eve +of the opening of Parliament. The explanation of this is clear to the +German Press. It was due to scarcity of food.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Upon receipt of the Japanese ultimatum, the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span>, it may be +remembered, cabled to the commander of his Chinese fortress:—"Bear in +mind that it would shame me more to surrender Kiaochau to the Japanese +than Berlin to the Russians." The kind-hearted Russians will now, we +feel sure, have less compunction in taking Berlin, seeing that the blow +will have been softened to an anticlimax.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The <span class="sc">Kaiser's</span> hair, it is said, is now bleached: but this attempt to look +like a white man will deceive no one.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Just as we go to press a report reaches us which certainly bears the +impress of truth on the face of it. It declares that the <span class="sc">Crown Prince</span> +has been shot for looting by a short-sighted brother-officer who did not +recognise the son of God's Vice-regent on Earth.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"The British Navy is in hiding," says the <i>Kölnische Zeitung</i>. We beg +our fragrant contemporary not to worry. In due course the Germans shall +have the hiding.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>It is so frequently stated that the leaders of the German Army attach no +importance to the lives of their men that it seems only fair to point +out that last week Brussels was fined £200,000 for wounding a couple of +German policemen.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Neither the French, Russian, Belgian, nor British troops like the idea +of fighting against the mere youths whom a paternal <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> is now +sending into the firing line, and a humane suggestion has been put +forward for correcting this embarrassment. Would it not be possible, it +is asked, to arrange Boys' Own Battles, in which the German little ones +would be opposed by the young of the Allies?</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"Klopstock, one of our greatest geniuses," says the <i>Hamburger +Fremdenblatt</i>, "taught us, 'Be not excessively just.' We shall endeavour +now to follow that teaching." We should say that there is no great +danger of the German nation breaking down under the strain of this +effort.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"How ever do the Teutons manage to produce so many lies about us?" asks +"A Lover of Truth." Our correspondent is evidently not much of a +gardener or he would have heard of "Intensive Culture."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The reply published by the <i>Vossische Zeitung</i> to the protest of French +clergymen against the destruction of Louvain and the shelling of Rheims +Cathedral contained at least one unfortunate expression. It asserted +that the <span class="sc">German Emperor</span> and the German People are both permeated with a +burning love of peace.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The Rev. Mr. <span class="sc">Edwards</span> has resigned his assistant curacy at Tettenhall +under somewhat peculiar circumstances, but we are sure the case is not +so bad as <i>The Wolverhampton Express</i> would have us believe. According +to our contemporary this gentleman exhorted his congregation "not to +hate the Germans, but rather to pay for them."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A wounded Tommy in one of our London hospitals, on being asked, the +other day, by a lady visitor what he thought of the French soldiers, +replied that he very much admired the French Curaçaos.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>When in Breslau, The Evening News tells us, the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> promised that the +Russian Army should be crushed. Fortunately in this case the undertaking +was not even written on a scrap of paper.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"For thirty-two years," says the <i>Vossische Zeitung</i>, "Egypt has had to +endure British rule." Curiously enough this bright little sheet does not +go on to point out that during the same period the poor Egyptians have +also had to put up with a good deal of prosperity.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%"> +<a href="images/409.png"> +<img src="images/409.png" width="100%" alt="Wot's the Use of This 'ere Earlier Closing" /></a> +<p><span class="sc">"Wot's the Use of This 'ere Earlier Closing?"</span></p> +<p><span class="sc">"Wy in case of a Zeppelin raid. If the 'Un smells beer 'e'll 'ave it!"</span></p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>A Beauty Spot.</h4> + +<blockquote><p>"This photograph of the town of Pervyse, on the road from Nieuport +to Dixmude, has been taken and retaken by both sides several times. +Our photograph was taken just after it had again come into the +possession of the Allies."—<i>Daily Chronicle.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>It is now the German photographer's turn again.</p> + +<hr class="short" /><br /> + +<center>Another song for the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span>:— +"<span class="sc">Come Tsing Tau Me</span>."</center><br /> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Translation of a letter received by The Morning Post:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"By spring-time of the 6,000,000 German soldiers there will remain +only three capable of fighting."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The <span class="sc">Crown Prince</span> and two privates.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p><span class="sc">"Patriotism for Pauper Children.</span>—The Lambeth Guardians yesterday +decided that in order that the Poor-law school children may have an +opportunity of appreciating the position of national affairs the +usual practice of allowing each child an egg for breakfast on +Christmas morning be suspended this year."—<i>Times.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>If this doesn't learn them to love their country, it ought, at any rate, +to encourage them to honour and respect the patriotic Lambeth Guardians.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>"Pending operations for her capture, or destruction, effective steps +have been taken to block the Königsberg in by inking colliers in the +only navigable channel."--<i>Birmingham Daily Mail.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>Aren't they black enough already?</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Examples of official enthusiasm are always welcome, and we therefore +give further publicity to the following:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The Cossacks who have been mobilised in the Amur district have sent +the following telegram to the Commander-in-Chief of the Russian +forces:</p> + +<p>'Your children are coming to your aid, father commander. They come +shouting "Hurrah!"'</p> + +<p>The Grand Duke Nicholas replied:</p> + +<p>'I shall be very pleased to see you.'—<i>Reuter.</i>"</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> + +<h2>TO THE BITTER END.</h2> + +<center>(<i>A word with the War-Lord.</i>)</center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">A rumour comes from Rome (where rumours breed)</p> +<p class="i2">That you are sick of taking blow on blow,</p> +<p class="i0">And would inter with all convenient speed</p> +<p class="i2">The hatchet wielded by your largest foe.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Is it the shadow Christmas casts before</p> +<p class="i2">That makes the iron of your soul unbend,</p> +<p class="i0">And melt in prayer for this unholy war</p> +<p class="i2">(Meaning the part that pinches most) to end?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Is it your fear to mark at that high feast</p> +<p class="i2">The writing on the wall that seals your fate,</p> +<p class="i0">And where the Christ-star watches in the East</p> +<p class="i2">To hear the guns that thunder at your gate?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">For on your heart no Christmas Peace can fall.</p> +<p class="i2">The chimes shall be a tocsin, and the red</p> +<p class="i2">Glow of the Yule-wood embers shall recall</p> +<p class="i0">A myriad smouldering pyres of murdered dead.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And anguish, wailing to the wintry skies,</p> +<p class="i2">Shall with its dirges drown the sacred hymn,</p> +<p class="i0">And round your royal hearth the curse shall rise</p> +<p class="i2">Of lowly hearths laid waste to suit your whim.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And you shall think on altars left forlorn,</p> +<p class="i2">On temple-aisles made desolate at your nod,</p> +<p class="i0">Where never a white-robed choir this holy morn</p> +<p class="i2">Shall chant their greeting to the Birth of God.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Peace? There is none for you, nor can be none;</p> +<p class="i2">For still shall Memory, like a fetid breath,</p> +<p class="i0">Poison your life-days while the slow hours run,</p> +<p class="i2">Till it be stifled in the dust of Death.</p> +</div></div > + +<p class="author">O. S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WHY I DON'T ENLIST.</h2> + +<blockquote><p>[Curiosity is often expressed regarding the causes which have +prevented young men from enlisting. Considerable interest, +therefore, should attach to the following replies to enquiries, an +inspection of which has been permitted us by the Secretary of the +Patriotic League, an organisation which seeks to stimulate +recruiting by writing to young healthy and unmarried men and asking +them why they do not join the colours.]</p></blockquote> + +<p><span class="sc">My Dear Sir</span>,—I fully understand your views—in fact I am in cordial +agreement with them. It would be quite fair to say of most young +unmarried men that they could and should be spared. But this cannot be +said of all young men. There is a small section of literary and other +artists whose lives must continue to be immeasurably precious to the +nation which has given them birth. From this company it is impossible +for me to exclude myself. There is a higher patriotism, to the dictates +of which I must respond. With infinite regrets, and thanks for what is +doubtless a well-meant endeavour,</p> + +<p class="regards">I am, dear Sir, yours sincerely,</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Endymion Browne.</span></p> + +<p>P.S.—If you should be in town on the 24th, I am giving a reading from +my own works at the United Intensities Club—"A Night with Endymion +Browne."</p><br /> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Sir</span>,—What you say is O.K. <span class="sc">Kitchener</span> must have men and all that +sort of thing. Show the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> who's boss, and so on. But there are some +men who <i>can't</i> possibly go. And I'm one. It's all very well to say +"Go," but <i>if</i> I go—let me ask you quite seriously—how on earth is +Smoketown Tuesday F.C. to lift the English pot? I don't want to shout +about myself, but it is a known fact that I'm positively the <i>only</i> +centre forward they've got. I'm worth £200 a week to the gate alone. If +you don't care to accept my word, that it is absolutely <i>impossible</i> for +me to go, I'll refer you to what our secretary says at foot.</p> + +<p class="regards">Yours,</p> +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Alf Booter</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Note by Secretary</i>—What Booter says is quite true. He is +indispensable. We paid £1,000 for his transfer, and could not possibly +sanction his leaving us. Besides, some of his many thousand admirers +might want to follow his example, and where would our gate be then?</p><br /> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Sir</span>,—If I was to go and enlist, how could I follow the Occident +and help 'em to win the League Championship? There it is, quite +short—how? And if I didn't follow, and if others like me didn't follow, +how'd the club stick it? How'd it keep going? What price duty of staying +at home?</p> + +<p class="regards"> +I am, yours truly,</p> +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Bert Socksley</span>.</p><br /> + +<center>[Dictated.]</center> + +<p><span class="sc">Sir</span>,—I snatch a moment to answer your letter, "Why don't I go to fight +the Germans?" I <i>am</i> fighting them. I cleared £500 this morning which, +before the war, would have gone into a German pocket. My motto is +"Business as usual," and I have no complaints whatever against the +Germans so long as I can go on fighting them some more in my own way.</p> + +<p class="regards">Yours faithfully,</p> +<p class="author"><span class="sc">George Crabbe</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">My Dear Sir</span>,—Your letter for my brother, John Halton, has reached me by +mistake, but I'll answer it. "Why don't I go?" Just send me a recipe for +turning me into a boy, and you'll not have to ask me twice.</p> + +<p class="regards"> +Yours very sincerely,</p> +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Joan Halton</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Sir</span>,—I know what my job is, so don't you come poking your nose in +where it isn't wanted. I'm for England, I am. And I'm doing my bit. <i>The +Evening Wiper</i> said only the other day that a Britisher's duty was to +keep cheerful, and that the man who did that was serving his country. +Well, I <i>am</i> cheerful—I didn't turn a hair even over Mons—slept +exactly the same, and had bacon and tomato for my breakfast. Then they +say, "Carry on." And I do carry on. I go out as usual, dress just as +carefully—spats, fancy waistcoat, buttonhole, etc. One night it's the +Imperial and another it's the Cinema. Men are wanted to cheer the +patriotic songs and to sing the chorus of "Tipperary." I help here. Then +I spend my money freely—<i>freely</i>, I tell you. Any Tommy I meet can have +a drink—half a dozen at my expense, and no return expected. I got two +quite blind last night, and never asked 'em for a sou. Then again, I've +spent quite a lot on flags. I always wear six on the front of my bike +when I scorch through the crowds coming out of church on Sundays. I've +got portrait buttons, too, of <span class="sc">Joffre</span> and <span class="sc">Kitch</span>., and I'm never ashamed +to wear 'em. <i>And I'm always urging chaps to go and enlist.</i> So you see +I am doing my bit.</p> + +<p class="regards"> +Yours truly,</p> +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Albert Spottle</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>In a Good Cause.</h2> + +<p>A <i>Matinée</i> will be given at the Empire on Thursday, the 26th, in aid of +<i>The Daily Telegraph's</i> Belgian Relief Fund. Among the patrons are The +<span class="sc">Japanese Ambassador</span>, the <span class="sc">Belgian Minister</span> and the Grand Duke <span class="sc">Michael</span>.</p> + +<p>Many popular <i>artistes</i> have offered their services, including Miss +<span class="sc">Phyllis Bedells</span>, Miss <span class="sc">Gladys Cooper</span>, Miss <span class="sc">Ethel Levey</span>, Miss <span class="sc">Irene +Vanbrugh</span>, Miss <span class="sc">Wish Wynne</span>, Mr. <span class="sc">Wilkie Bard</span>, Mr. <span class="sc">Will Evans</span>, Mr. <span class="sc">Alfred +Lester</span>, Mr. <span class="sc">James Tate</span>, Mr. <span class="sc">Lewis Waller</span> and Mr. <span class="sc">James Welch</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Punch</i> very heartily commends the cause and its advocates to his +gentle readers.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/411.png"> +<img src="images/411.png" width="100%" alt="GOOD HUNTING." /></a> +<h4>GOOD HUNTING.</h4> +<center>A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK.</center> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/413.png"> +<img src="images/413.png" width="100%" alt="Mother, Look at That Poor Soldier" /></a><br /><br /> +<p>"<span class="sc">Mother, Look at That Poor Soldier: Wounded in Both +Feet</span>."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WITH ALL RESERVE.</h2> + +<p>Departing from the time-honoured custom of believing everything they see +in print, the British people are learning in these times that one should +only run the risk of believing printed news that has passed the Censor. +By the time the war is over the new habit will have become established, +and we may look for items like the following in our daily papers:—</p> + +<p>The right hon. gentleman went on to say that so long as the people of +this country permitted the present Government to remain in power, so +long would this country be governed in a manner which could never win +the approval of the Opposition.</p> + +<blockquote>[The above having been passed by the Censor may be accepted as +correct.—ED.]</blockquote> + +<p>The weather yesterday varied throughout the country. While in the +extreme north it was warm and sunny, in the south snow fell. A violent +hailstorm swept Battersea from end to end; yet in Stornoway the day was +marked by a sky of cloudless blue. Once more the climate of these +islands showed itself to be a fickle and unstable thing.</p> + +<blockquote>[The above has been submitted to the Censor, who sees no reason why it +should be withheld from the public; and it may therefore be taken that +in the main it is moderately accurate.—ED.]</blockquote> + +<p>Lady A.'s dinner-party at the Ritz Hotel last evening was not a great +success. The decorations of pink carnations were but moderately admired +by her undistinguished guests. The Blue Petrogradese Orchestra played +without particular brilliance. Among those absent without reason +assigned were the Duke and Duchess of W., the Earl and Countess X., the +Bishop of Y., and Mr. Z., the unknown poet.</p> + +<blockquote>[The above has been submitted to the Censor, who possessed no official +knowledge of the facts, but considered that the report had an air of +sufficient probability.—<span class="sc">Ed.</span>]</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<h2>TO THE UNDYING HONOUR OF A SUPER-PATRIOT.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Commemorate, ye gods, the noble mind</p> +<p class="i2">Of Brown (A. J.), a youth of classic parts,</p> +<p class="i0">Whose soul was ever faultlessly inclined</p> +<p class="i2">To music, verse, and all the gracious arts;</p> +<p class="i0">At things of taste, in fact, Augustus John</p> +<p class="i0">Was always, and is yet, a perfect don.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">But lately I have fathomed deeps unknown</p> +<p class="i2">Before in my incomparable friend;</p> +<p class="i0">No mere artistic trifler, he has shown</p> +<p class="i2">A patriot heart of high heroic trend,</p> +<p class="i0">And showered sacrifice with fearless hand</p> +<p class="i0">Upon the altar of his Motherland.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I haled him to a "music" hall to hear</p> +<p class="i2">The Great Recruiting Song, and watched him wince</p> +<p class="i0">And writhe throughout, as though his end were near;</p> +<p class="i2">But now I learn that, every evening since,</p> +<p class="i0">Brown has been there, in England's sacred cause,</p> +<p class="i0">To greet that patriot song with loud applause!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> + +<h2>AUNT LOUISA'S SONG SCENA.</h2> + +<p>Just as adversity sometimes brings out men's strongest characteristics, +hitherto unsuspected, so can amateur theatricals lead to surprising +discoveries of humour and resource. Everyone must have noticed it.</p> + +<p>No one had ever credited Aunt Louisa with any dramatic sense whatever. +She is so gentle and so placid. She was always something of a knitter, +and, like all essential knitters, given to sitting a little outside of +life; but since the war broke out she has knitted practically without +ceasing; and who would dream of going to a knitter for stage effects?</p> + +<p>Therefore we were astonished when, in talking over the projected +Saturday night's entertainment, Aunt Louisa ventured the statement that +she had thought out a scheme for a little interlude, and might she be +permitted to carry it out? Just a mere fill up, but topical, or possibly +even more than topical—prophetic.</p> + +<p>Of course she might.</p> + +<p>"Is it a tableau?" our stage manager inquired.</p> + +<p>"No, I shouldn't call it a tableau," said Aunt Louisa; "I should call it +a song scena."</p> + +<p>How on earth did she hear that phrase? She never goes to music-halls. I +would as soon expect to hear her speak of "featuring."</p> + +<p>"A song scena," she went on, "the hero of which is the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span>; and I +shall want half-a-dozen gentlemen to assist."</p> + +<p>The busy fingers knitted away and the gold spectacles were fixed on us +with bland benignity. Aunt Louisa writing a song scena and ordering a +chorus, just like Mr. <span class="sc">George Edwardes</span>, was not the least of the miracles +produced by this war.</p> + +<p>A company of six of us volunteered, of whom I was one. Another was Mr. +Herbert Foley, who has made private theatricals his life study.</p> + +<p>"Anything I can do to help you in coaching the performers and so on," he +said, "I shall be only too pleased to do. You know I'm no chicken at +this sort of thing."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Aunt Louisa, "but I think I can manage."</p> + +<p>"All right," replied Mr. Foley, "but, of course——. Want of +experience——"</p> + +<p>"First of all," said Aunt Louisa, "I must choose a Kaiser. Someone who +can act."</p> + +<p>We all became very self-conscious. Our expressions said severally, "No +one can act as well as I, but it's rotten form to push oneself forward."</p> + +<p>Aunt Louisa scanned us narrowly and, much to everybody else's surprise, +picked out Tommy Thurlow. To my mind she could not have made a worse +choice; but, as it happened, her judgment was sound.</p> + +<p>Foley seemed piqued. "Then what do <i>we</i> do?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You are chorus men," said she.</p> + +<p>"Chorus!" said Foley.</p> + +<p>"Isn't that the right word? I know so little about these things. Perhaps +I ought to have said 'supers.'"</p> + +<p>She then told us what to do, knitting all the while.</p> + +<p>On the evening Aunt Louisa's song scena was the success of the show. It +was called "The Haunted Kaiser," and it began with a distracted demented +Tommy Thurlow, with the familiar Potsdam moustache and an excellent wig +from London, rushing on with his fingers in his ears. No doubt as to who +it was—the <span class="sc">War Lord</span> in a state bordering on delirium. Having calmed +down a little, he began to sing:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">For years and years I'd waited,</p> +<p class="i2">Preparing for <i>The Day</i>——</p> +<p class="i0">The day that meant for Germany</p> +<p class="i2">A universal sway.</p> +<p class="i4">Alas, alack,</p> +<p class="i4">For my set back!</p> +</div></div> + +<p>At this point a number of tea-trays were smitten resonantly "off." Tommy +dramatically heard them and sang:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">What's that that smites upon my ear,</p> +<p class="i0">The sound of cruel guns I hear,</p> +<p class="i2">That sound of fear?</p> +</div></div> + +<p>More tea-tray.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The British, French and Russians</p> +<p class="i0">They are murdering my Prussians:</p> +<p class="i2">Why did I make this war?</p> +<p class="i0">They're in my way by day, by night:</p> +<p class="i2">In vain, in vain I take to flight,</p> +<p class="i4">I'll hear them evermore——</p> +<p class="i4">Those guns! Those guns!</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Tremendous applause, while Tommy prepared for the second verse and Aunt +Louisa's great effect.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Alas! for my ambition,</p> +<p class="i2">My glory passed away!</p> +<p class="i0">What is there left of Germany</p> +<p class="i2">But misery to-day?</p> +<p class="i4">Alack, alas,</p> +<p class="i4">For such a pass!</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Here on several concertinas in different parts of the hall, as well as +upstairs, was heard, "It's a long way to Tipperary." Tommy began to +behave like a maniac. He rushed about more wildly than before. He +stopped his ears. He tried to hide. Then he began to sing again:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">What's that that bursts upon my ear,</p> +<p class="i0">That overwhelming song I hear,</p> +<p class="i2">That sound of fear?</p> +<p class="i0">Though brave my men and wary,</p> +<p class="i0">They've been done by "Tipperary;"</p> +<p class="i2">Why did I make this war?</p> +<p class="i0">It's in my brain by day, by night,</p> +<p class="i0">In vain, in vain I take to flight,</p> +<p class="i2">I'll hear it evermore—</p> +<p class="i2">That song! That song!</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Now came the great dramatic effect. On to the stage climbed, in the +latest revue manner, from all parts of the house, the army of which I +had the honour to be one, all pointing the finger of doom at the +cringing Tommy Thurlow. Having got him well into our midst and broken to +the world, we sang at him these stirring lines to a too familiar tune:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">It's a long way to get to Paree,</p> +<p class="i2">It's a long way to go;</p> +<p class="i0">It's the wrong way through little Belgium,</p> +<p class="i2">The wrongest way we know.</p> +<p class="i0">Good-bye, <span class="sc">Kaiser Billy</span>;</p> +<p class="i2">Farewell, O mein Herr;</p> +<p class="i0">It's a long, long way to St. Helena,</p> +<p class="i2">But your home's right there!</p> +</div></div> + +<p>Terrific success; and, after some moments of reluctance, Aunt Louisa, +still knitting a sock, was induced to bow.</p> + +<p>But it wasn't a bad first effort at drama by an old lady in gold +spectacles, was it? I have seen worse by professional writers.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 45%"> +<a href="images/414.png"> +<img src="images/414.png" width="100%" alt="Patriotic Wife." /></a><br /><br /> +<p><i>Patriotic Wife.</i> "Now, <span class="sc">Richard, Before You Go, Let Me +Hear You Repeat My Instructions</span>."</p> +<p><i>Richard.</i> "<span class="sc">I Must Remember I'm the Husband of An Englishwoman, and I'm +Not To Come Back Without The Kaiser</span>!"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/415.png"> +<img src="images/415.png" width="100%" alt="Mr. Thespian Jones" /></a><br /><br /> +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Thespian Jones, the famous Animal Impersonator, +offers his services as "Collecting Dog" under the auspices of a relief +committee—</span></p> +<p><span class="sc">—But suddenly forgets himself on the arrival of good news from the +front</span>.</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE KAISER'S "HATE."</h2> + +<blockquote>[The feeling in Germany, it appears, is now quite friendly towards +France and Russia, and all the fury of the Press is concentrated on +England.]</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">When first the champions were listed,</p> +<p class="i2">When first the shells began to fall,</p> +<p class="i0">Some trace of animus existed</p> +<p class="i2">Between the Teuton and the Gaul;</p> +<p class="i0">King <span class="sc">William</span> was extremely callous,</p> +<p class="i2">Nay, even found a certain zest</p> +<p class="i0">In riding from his Potsdam palace</p> +<p class="i2">To show his purple to the West.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">But what a charm the Frenchman carries!</p> +<p class="i2">His compliments how wide they range!</p> +<p class="i0">Before King <span class="sc">William</span> got to Paris</p> +<p class="i2">His feelings underwent a change:</p> +<p class="i0">"Our ancient feud against the Latin,"</p> +<p class="i2">He said, "has sensibly decreased;"</p> +<p class="i0">And rising from the trench he sat in</p> +<p class="i2">He moved his umbrage to the East.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">He trampled on the Polish border;</p> +<p class="i2">He cried that Russia was the foe;</p> +<p class="i0">The German Press received the order</p> +<p class="i2">And answered meekly, "That is so;"</p> +<p class="i0">But when King <span class="sc">William</span> met the Tartar</p> +<p class="i2">His soul sustained another wrench,</p> +<p class="i0">He found the Slavs were even smarter</p> +<p class="i2">At entertainments than the French.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">They gave him such a royal greeting</p> +<p class="i2">With Cossack horsemen making curves</p> +<p class="i0">That <span class="sc">William</span> asked them, on retreating,</p> +<p class="i2">To try his Prussian game preserves;</p> +<p class="i0">"Duke <span class="sc">Nicholas</span> is not the canker,"</p> +<p class="i2">He told his German scribblers then;</p> +<p class="i0">"His treatment has disarmed my rancour"</p> +<p class="i2">(It certainly disarmed his men).</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Out yonder in the circling billows</p> +<p class="i2">There lies the object of my scorn,</p> +<p class="i0">We hate these English armadilloes,</p> +<p class="i2">We wish they never had been born;</p> +<p class="i0">Their name to us is rank and fetid,</p> +<p class="i2">And on their sins our rage is fed;"</p> +<p class="i0">And all the German Press repeated</p> +<p class="i2">Precisely what the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> said.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Eh well. That water is a worry!</p> +<p class="i2">And doubtless, if the iron glove</p> +<p class="i0">Should meet us here in Kent or Surrey,</p> +<p class="i2">Its clasp might soften into love;</p> +<p class="i0">We might despatch him with a grey grin,</p> +<p class="i2">And all the German Scribes would vow</p> +<p class="i0">"Our bugbear is the Montenegrin;</p> +<p class="i2">We do not hate the English now."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">But better still to cool his dudgeon</p> +<p class="i2">Where week by week our nobler sons</p> +<p class="i0">Have proved Britannia's no curmudgeon</p> +<p class="i2">By salvoes of applauding guns;</p> +<p class="i0">To save him toil without his landing,</p> +<p class="i2">To meet him with more warm advance,</p> +<p class="i0">And help to share that "understanding"</p> +<p class="i2">He has with Russia and with France.</p> +</div></div> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Evoe.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span> + +<h2>THE LAST LINE.</h2> + +<center>IV.</center> + +<p>We progress. The days when the whole art of war consisted of "On the +left, form platoons.... On the <i>left,</i> blanket," are over. Skirmishing, +signalling, musketry, Swedish drill—a variety of entertainment is now +open to us; there is even a class for buglers. To give you an idea of +the Corps at work, I offer you a picture of James and myself semaphoring +to each other.</p> + +<p>James is in the middle distance, a couple of flags draped over his +person. I am going to send him a message. I signal to him that I am +about to begin; he waves back that he is ready. Now then....</p> + +<p>My mind becomes a complete blank. I find that I have absolutely nothing +to say to James.</p> + +<p>"Go on," says my instructor.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but what?" I ask. All desire to interchange thought with James has +left me.</p> + +<p>"Anything. Ask him, if a herring and a half costs three ha'pence, how +much——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but that's too long. It would take me at least a week, and by that +time the herring would be censored. No, I've got it."</p> + +<p>It has occurred to me suddenly that it would annoy James if I reminded +him of his professional life. He looks so military in his puttees and +khaki shirt.</p> + +<p><i>"Do—you—want—a—nice—mortgage?"</i> I signal.</p> + +<p>James takes it up to "nice," and then breaks down. The "m-o" he reads as +"s-w" (an easy mistake to make), and he imagines that I am offering him +a nice sword—a fitting offer to one of his martial appearance. When the +third letter turns out to be not the "o" which he expected, he loses his +head and signals "Repeat."</p> + +<p>I give it him again slowly. He reads the first five letters as s-w-r-t-g +and assumes this time that I am offering him a nice town in Poland. It +is five minutes before we get the mortgage properly established, and by +then James is utterly disgusted.</p> + +<p>He is now going to send a message to me. There is nothing half-hearted +about James when he has his khaki shirt on.</p> + +<p><i>"Why the devil don't you send up those guns?"</i> he signals.</p> + +<p>General James is hard pressed. The enemy is advancing in echelon against +his left wing; cavalry beat themselves against the hollow square on his +right; his centre has formed platoon after platoon unavailingly. Still +the enemy comes on. Where the devil are those guns?</p> + +<p>I signalled back:</p> + +<p><i>"Sorry, but B Company is using the bullet."</i></p> + +<p>It was a blow to James. Reluctantly he came to his decision.</p> + +<p><i>"Must fall back,"</i> he said, and he caught a flag between his legs and +did so....</p> + +<p>Well, there you have us signalling. To show you us skirmishing I cannot +do better than describe the fierce engagement between A and C Companies, +which resulted in the entire annihilation of A. But perhaps that would +not be fair. I am a prejudiced recorder; let one of A Company speak.</p> + +<p>He was annoyed.</p> + +<p>"We worked round their flank," he said, "and we'd got quite close up to +them under cover of a wood when we came on one of them smoking a pipe. +He said he was an outpost, and that he'd decimated us all long ago."</p> + +<p>"What did you do?" asked his friend.</p> + +<p>"We scragged him."</p> + +<p>Personally I had a safer position among the supports. A decimated enemy +in the first flush of annoyance can be dangerous. I merely lay in a +ditch and counted ants.... But I was very glad to hear we'd won.</p> + +<p>Rifle exercises go on apace. We have a curious collection of weapons +("weapons of precision" as they are called by those who have never seen +my targets), an order for six hundred of one family having fallen +through, owing to a clerical error. "We can offer you 600 rifles, 1900 +pattern," the firm wrote; but an inspection of them showed that the "6" +and the "9" had got mixed up.</p> + +<p>But even with more modern weapons than these we are not very formidable +as yet, and for some weeks we must rely on other methods of striking +terror into the hearts of the enemy. Luckily we are acquiring an +excellent substitute for lead. As an example of "frightfulness" nothing +can exceed the appearance of one of our really mixed platoons lying on +its backs and waving its legs in the air. This is one of the Swedish +drill movements ... and, as I think I have mentioned before, we are all +ages and shapes....</p> + +<p>Let me conclude with a little story to show the dangers to which we are +subject and the fearlessness with which we face them. I cite the case of +Reginald Arbuthnot Wilkins.</p> + +<p>R. A. Wilkins is just as keen as they make them, and it is his great +sorrow that, being in an important Government office, he is not allowed +to enlist. For my liking he is too smart; when he does a "right-turn" he +does it with a jerk that you can almost hear. The click of the heels is +all very well, but Reginald Arbuthnot makes his neck click too. An +"eyes-right" nearly takes his head off.</p> + +<p>A dozen of them, including Reginald, were being taught saluting the +other day. There was an imaginary Field-Marshal or somebody on the left, +and they were told to turn the head smartly to the left, at the same +time bringing the right hand up to the salute.... "Sa-<i>lute!</i>" Reginald +Arbuthnot Wilkins whizzed his head round to the left, but accidentally +brought the wrong hand up. There was a crash as his left thumb met his +left eye-ball, and Reginald was in hospital for a week.</p> + +<p>The remarkable thing is that the other eleven, quite undismayed, went on +practising the salute. That gives you some idea of our spirit.</p> + +<p class="author">A. A. M.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>STRATEGIC DISEASE.</h2> + +<blockquote>[Some of the German military authorities having explained that their +retreat from Paris was due to the spread of cholera in that city, we may +perhaps expect to have something like the following further +"explanations" elsewhere.]</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Our recent rather smart retreat</p> +<p class="i2">From Warsaw need not cause disquiet;</p> +<p class="i0">Our army met with no defeat</p> +<p class="i2">Nor suffered from defective diet;</p> +<p class="i0">We marched away because we knew</p> +<p class="i0">Warsaw was reeking with the 'Flu.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Our move from Calais was, of course,</p> +<p class="i2">A great strategic retrogression,</p> +<p class="i0">We were compelled, though not by force,</p> +<p class="i2">To leave another in possession;</p> +<p class="i0">But that's no ground for doleful dumps,</p> +<p class="i0">Calais was chucked because of Mumps.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Soon we shall see, though scarce as yet,</p> +<p class="i2">Huns and howitzers hustled over</p> +<p class="i0">Yon nauseous streak of heaving wet</p> +<p class="i2">Which still divides our arms from Dover;</p> +<p class="i0">And should "high failure" then occur</p> +<p class="i0">Lay the whole blame on Mal-de-mer.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>Le mot juste.</h4> + +<blockquote><p>"Reports of military movements behind the Germans' front in Belgium +are contradictory and too bragmentary to be worth much."—<i>Western Mail.</i></p> +</blockquote> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>"Mr. Churchill: Six, nine, twelve months hence you will begin to see +results that will spell the domm of Germany."—<i>Daily Mail.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>We could spell it better than that in three months.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>"The smallness of the members present was due in large measure to +the war."—<i>Edinburgh Evening Despatch.</i></p></blockquote> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote>The shortage of food, due to the German blockade, is at last making +itself felt.—[<i>Wireless from Berlin.</i>]</blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/417.png"> +<img src="images/417.png" width="100%" alt="THE HISTORY OF A PAIR OF MITTENS." /></a> +<h4>THE HISTORY OF A PAIR OF MITTENS.</h4> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/418.png"> +<img src="images/418.png" width="100%" alt="Waal, it's this way." /></a><br /><br /> +<p>"<span class="sc">Waal, it's this way. We Amurricans don't take no +sides—we're ab-so-lootly nootral. We don' give a row o' beans which of +you knocks the Kaiser out</span>."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>SAFEGUARDS.</h2> + +<p>It was the special terms to Special Constables that tempted me—and I +fell.</p> + +<p>I don't just remember how many times I fell, but it was pretty nearly as +often as the "Professor" of the wily art took hold of me. Before the +first lesson was over, falling became more than a mere pastime with me, +it grew into a serious occupation.</p> + +<p>So I left the jiu-jitsu school at the end of the second lesson with a +nodding acquaintance with some very pretty holds and a very firm +determination to practise them on Alfred when he got back to the office +next day from Birmingham.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>I suppose I ought to have persevered with my lessons a little longer, +but I was losing my self-respect, and felt that nothing would help me to +gain it better than to cause somebody else to do the falling for a bit.</p> + +<p>Alfred is six-foot-two, but a trifle weedy-looking, and so good-tempered +that I knew he wouldn't resent being practised on.</p> + +<p>As he came in I advanced with outstretched hand to meet him.</p> + +<p>"How goes it?" he said cheerily, holding out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Like this," I said, as I gripped his right wrist instead of his +fingers, turned to the left till I was abreast of him, inserted my left +arm under his right, gripped the lapel of his coat with my left hand and +turning his wrist downward with my right, pressed his arm back. To +attack unexpectedly is the great thing.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a funny ass," said Alfred, as I lifted myself out of the +waste-paper basket.</p> + +<p>How I got there I wasn't quite sure, but concluded that I had muffed the +business with my left arm by not inserting it well above his elbow for +the leverage.</p> + +<p>"Sorry," I said; "the new handshake. Everybody's doing it."</p> + +<p>"Are they?" said Alfred. "Well, I've been having some lessons in +etiquette myself the last few days from a naval man I met down at Hythe. +Seen the new embrace?"</p> + +<p>"Er—no," I said, putting a chair between us, "I don't think I have; but +I'm not feeling affectionate this morning. I'm going to lunch."</p> + +<p>Thank goodness, if I do meet a spy, I've got a truncheon and a whistle.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>Making the Best of It.</h4> + +<blockquote><p>"Now that supplies of German chemicals and drugs are not procurable, +sufferers from nervous dyspepsia, etc., should give a trial to +nervous dispepsia, etc."—<i>Bristol Evening Times.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Sufferer (after trial).</i> "No, it's just as painful spelt with an 'i'."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>"Other Petrograd despatches state that an increase in taxation by +one-half is expected.... It is believed the increase will produce a +milliard of troubles."—<i>The Mirror (Trinidad).</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>We think better of Russian patriotism.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<blockquote><p>"Four or five had been landed at Ramsgate. It was a comparatively fine, +peaceful morning. People were resting on the promenade enjoying the sea, +and the fresh air anglers of both sexes were calmly fishing from the +pier."—<i>Glasgow Herald.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>A hardy race, these South Coast fresh-air anglers. Our idea of November +sport with the rod is sniggling for goldfish in the conservatory.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 45%"> +<a href="images/419.png"> +<img src="images/419.png" width="100%" alt="THE EAGLE COMIQUE" /></a> +<h4>THE EAGLE COMIQUE.</h4> +<p><span class="sc">Kaiser</span> (<i>reviving old Music-hall refrain</i>). "HAS ANYBODY HERE SEEN +<i>CALAIS</i>?"</p> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/421.png"> +<img src="images/421.png" width="100%" alt="THE RULING PASSION" /></a> +<h4>THE RULING PASSION.</h4> +<center>"<span class="sc">'Ten-<i>shun</i>! Form <i>Fours</i>!</span>"</center> +</div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<center>(<span class="sc">Extracted From the Diary of Toby, M.P.</span>)</center> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Wednesday, 11th November.</i>—Both Houses met for what +will be last Session of ever-memorable Parliament. Usual ceremony at +State Opening by <span class="sc">King</span>, but atmosphere distinctly different from that +familiar on such occasions. No crowd talking and gesticulating in Lobby +before <span class="sc">Speaker</span> takes the Chair. That done, Benches seemed strangely +empty. In Commons, as in Lords, most men wore mourning, the gloom a +little lightened here and there by khaki uniform. Whilst <span class="sc">Leader of +Opposition</span> and <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> spoke Members sat silently attentive. Only +now and then subdued cheer indicated approval of a statement or a +sentiment. There was sign neither of depression nor elation. The +country, fitly represented within these four walls, has undertaken a +great task, its performance making heavy demand of blood and money. At +whatever cost mean to see it through. Meanwhile are grimly silent.</p> + +<p>In course of brief proceedings curious instance forthcoming of +prevalence of martial spirit even in unexpected quarters. Did not +witness it myself, being at the moment engaged in showing a constituent +the House of Lords at historic moment when, in absence of <span class="sc">Leader of +Conservative Party, George Curzon</span> rose temporarily to assume functions +he will surely inherit. Story told me by the <span class="sc">Member for Sark</span>, whom I +find a (more or less) trustworthy recorder.</p> + +<p>Seems that two new Members were in attendance prepared to take oath and +their seat. In accordance with custom they were ranged at the Bar +awaiting <span class="sc">Speaker's</span> summons. Observing one of them between his +introducers, <span class="sc">Speaker</span> stiffly drew himself up to full height, and called +out in ringing tones—</p> + +<p>"'Ten-<i>shun</i>! Form <i>Fours</i>!"</p> + +<p>House stared in amazement. Nothing disconcerts Mr. <span class="sc">Lowther</span>. Recognizing +slip, he quietly ignored it; made fresh start.</p> + +<p>"Order! Order! Members desiring to take their seats will please come to +the Table."</p> + +<p>Thereupon <span class="sc">President of Board of Agriculture</span>, assisted by Mr. <span class="sc">Burt</span>, the +revered Father of the House, affably conducted towards the Table his +parent, Sir <span class="sc">Walter Runciman</span>, newly elected Member for Hartlepool. Having +seen him duly sign roll of Parliament he stood him tea on the Terrace, +made him free of the smoking-room, and invited him to partake to-morrow +night of famous House shilling dinner.</p> + +<p>These filial amenities pleasantly vary the austerity of Parliamentary +life.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Parliament reassembled. Address in reply to Speech +from the Throne moved in both Houses.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/421b.png"> +<img src="images/421b.png" width="100%" alt="THE PILOT IS PICKED UP AGAIN" /></a> +<h4>"THE PILOT IS PICKED UP AGAIN."</h4> +<p class="center">[<span class="sc">Lord Fisher comes aboard</span>.]</p> +</div> + +<p><i>House of Lords, Thursday.</i>—A new-comer to Ministerial Bench. It is +<span class="sc">Lord Fisher of Kilverstone</span>, commonly and affectionately known as "Jack." +Three years ago, fatal age limit being reached, Admiralty regretfully +but compulsorily Dropped the Pilot. Now, three years older as the +almanack counts, actually as young as ever, the Pilot is picked up +again. His appearance at the helm greeted with hearty cheer resounding +from shore to shore.</p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span> + +<p>Everyone knows that present condition of Navy, making it dominant on all +seas, is mainly due to him. Recognized as fitting thing that he should +be placed in charge of weapon that with patient endeavour, supreme +skill, unerring foresight he had forged. Never yet in time of war have +these Islands been in such safe keeping. With K. K. at the War Office +and <span class="sc">Jack Fisher</span> at the Admiralty British householder may sleep in his +bed o' nights unafraid.</p> + +<p>By another happy concatenation of circumstance Admiralty is represented +in both Houses. With <span class="sc">Winsome Winston</span> in the Commons and <span class="sc">Jack Fisher</span> in +the Lords, the Navy will have a good show. Only doubt is whether <span class="sc">First +Sea Lord</span> will think it worth while to devote to Parliamentary duties the +measure of time exacted from <span class="sc">First Lord of Admiralty</span>. Essentially a man +of action, he has little patience with custom of talking round a matter. +Nevertheless well to know that, if occasion serve, he can make a speech +far beyond average in respect of power and originality. Discovery made +when, six or seven years ago, he fluttered the decorous dovecotes of the +Royal Academy by delivering at its annual banquet a memorable speech on +condition and prospects of Navy.</p> + +<p>Unlikely, too, that <span class="sc">Jack Fisher</span> will take part in perfunctory +performances, as when the House, meeting at 4.15, sits twiddling its +noble thumbs till 4.30, the hour on stroke of which public business +commences. There being none, or not any that occupies more than five +minutes, they straight-way adjourn. But, if serious debate on Naval +affairs arises, <span class="sc">First Sea Lord</span> may be counted upon to be at his post.</p> + +<p><i>Business done</i>:—Address agreed to. House adjourned till Monday.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/422.png"> +<img src="images/422.png" width="100%" alt="A PROMISING SLEUTH-PUP" /></a> +<h4>A PROMISING SLEUTH-PUP.</h4> +<p><i>Nurse.</i> "<span class="sc">I Wonder if that man's a German spy</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Young Briton.</i> "<span class="sc">Oh, no, Nurse! He can't be. He hasn't got a gun</span>!"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A DEBT OF HONOUR.</h2> + +<blockquote><p>[The author would be very proud if his lines might bring in any +subscriptions to the Belgian Relief Fund. Cheques, payable to +"Belgian Relief Fund," should be sent to the Belgian Minister, 15 +West Halkin Street, S. W.]</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Old England's dark o' nights and short</p> +<p class="i0">Of 'buses; still she's much the sort</p> +<p class="i2">Of place we always used to know.</p> +<p class="i0">There's women lonely—hid away,</p> +<p class="i0">But mills at work and kids at play,</p> +<p class="i2">And docks alive with come and go.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">But Belgium's homes is blasted down;</p> +<p class="i0">Her shops is ash-heaps, town by town;</p> +<p class="i2">There's harvests soaked and full of dead;</p> +<p class="i0">There's Prussians prowling after loot</p> +<p class="i0">And choosing who they'd better shoot;</p> +<p class="i2">There's kids gone lost; there's fights for bread.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">It's thanks to that there strip of sea,</p> +<p class="i0">And what floats on it, you and me</p> +<p class="i2">And things we love aren't going shares</p> +<p class="i0">In German culture. They'd 'a' tried</p> +<p class="i0">To spare us some, but we're this side.</p> +<p class="i2">It's so arranged—no fault of theirs.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Them Belgians had the chance to shirk,</p> +<p class="i0">And watch, instead of do, the work;</p> +<p class="i2">But no! They chose a bigger thing</p> +<p class="i0">And blocked the bully; gave us breath</p> +<p class="i0">To get our coats off. Sure as death</p> +<p class="i2">They're Men—a King of Men for King.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Don't think they're beat with what they've got,</p> +<p class="i0">And begging pennies, 'cos they're not.</p> +<p class="i2">It's this—their job is good and done;</p> +<p class="i0">They're fighting-pals; they're hungry, cold;</p> +<p class="i0">We owe for blood that's more than gold—</p> +<p class="i2">A debt of honour, or we've none.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">They've stood for us; for them we'll stand</p> +<p class="i0">Right through; and so we'll lend a hand</p> +<p class="i2">Until the foe's account is quit.</p> +<p class="i0">That happy day is working through;</p> +<p class="i0">But, meanwhiles, it's for me and you—</p> +<p class="i2">Well, dash it, pass along your bit.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/423.png"> +<img src="images/423.png" width="100%" alt="Why, Jacob," /></a><br /><br /> +<p>"<span class="sc">Why, Jacob, we thought a sturdy chap like you would +have enlisted. There's not a soul gone from the village."</span></p> +<p>"<span class="sc">Bain't there, then? They've got vower o' maister's 'orses!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A TRAGIC MISTAKE AT POTSDAM.</h2> + +<center>(<i>In the manner of the Spy Books.</i>)</center> + +<p>At about half-past ten this morning I took my little black bag and +walked to the Palace. Presenting my pass, I was about to enter by the +side door reserved for civilians when I felt a heavy blow on my shoulder +and, turning, beheld an officer. Forbidding me to apologise he led me +into the palace by another door, and, placing me in a small room and +enjoining strict silence upon me, he left me alone. This was so +different from the procedure adopted on former occasions that I took +stock of my surroundings. The room was obviously a waiting-room, +containing as it did a pianola, a gramophone and a photograph album of +German generals. I was aroused from my slumbers about two and a-half +hours later and beheld before me an elderly bespectacled officer. I knew +him at once from the picture postcards as Bluteisen, head of the secret +service. He examined me minutely, omitting, however, to look into my +little black bag, which clearly escaped his notice. I began to explain, +but he ordered silence and beckoned me to follow. He led me up three +flights of stairs, along a corridor, down four flights, and so on for +about three-quarters of an hour, his idea, I suppose, being completely +to mystify me. At length we arrived at a door deep under-ground, upon +which Bluteisen knocked mysteriously. Receiving no answer he turned to +me and said, "Push." I leaned hard upon the door, fell suddenly forward +and stepped briskly into the room.</p> + +<p>We were in total darkness save for a circle of green light at the +further end of the apartment. In this circle was a desk, at which was +seated a man writing. One glance at him and I trembled with excitement. +<i>I was in the Presence.</i></p> + +<p>For fully thirty minutes he kept me standing. Nothing was heard but an +occasional graunch, graunch, as he devoured the end of his pen. At last +he spoke. "Number?" he said.</p> + +<p>I was about to stammer an explanation, but Bluteisen cut me short with a +warning look, saluted and said, "Three nine double nine."</p> + +<p>"How long have you been here?" the Personage asked.</p> + +<p>"About three hours," I replied.</p> + +<p>He seemed pleased. Then he gave me a paper. "Read that," he said.</p> + +<p>I read it. My hair, usually complacent, rose with fear and astonishment. +What I read was this:—"You will blow up the British Albert Memorial at +your earliest convenience. Telegraph when completed, if still alive."</p> + +<p>"Have you got it?" he asked. I could only nod. He then held the paper in +the flame of a candle till he scorched his finger and thumb.</p> + +<p>"You will never see that again," he said. And I never did. Then he +thrust his face at me. "You will succeed?" he snapped. "Sire," I +ventured, my head swimming with apprehension, "I—I humbly apologise, +but I—I have never yet blown up anything."</p> + +<p>"What!" he shrieked, giving to his moustaches an upward direction, +"what! you are Number three nine double nine, from the Ammunition +section, are you not?"</p> + +<p>"No, Sire," I replied, "I'm sorry, but I'm not in any section at all."</p> + +<p>There was a terrible silence. With one eye he annihilated me, with the +other he detained Bluteisen, who was sneaking off into the darkness. +Then in a fury he hissed, "What are you? What are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>With choking voice I blurted out the simple truth. "Sire," I said, "I +have the honour to inform you that I am here to tune the Imperial +piano."</p> + +<p>I understand that I am to be shot at dawn to-morrow. So, thank heaven, +is Bluteisen.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span> + +<h2>THE DOCTHOR'S WAR SPEECH.</h2> + +<p>Martin Cassidy told it to me. He was there, and he saw the boys form +fours when they marched to the station the next day. There were +seventeen of them, and he said he'd never forget it.</p> + +<p>"'Twas the Docthor's war speech that did ut," said Martin. "He had thim +all in Micky's shebeen—sure they'd have been there annyhow—and the +Docthor had volunteeerd himself; why not?</p> + +<p>"Yes, the women and childer were admitted. Wouldn't they be wantin' to +know the way of it? Av coorse.</p> + +<p>"You'd not keep them out annyway. 'Tis the whole of Ballymurky that was +there that night.</p> + +<p>"'Twas an o-ration the Docthor gave thim. Ye could have heard a pin +drop. Isn't it mesilf that would be away there now, if they'd let me? +Didn't Patsy Doolan have to sit on me head to keep me from gettin' into +the thrain with thim?</p> + +<p>"'Sure the <span class="sc">King</span> knows ye've been drawin' the ould-age pension this two +years,' sez he. 'Won't he have it down in his note-book?' sez he; 'and +you wanten to pass for thirty. Gwan,' sez he."</p> + +<p>Old Martin applied a piece of glowing turf to his pipe and sucked +audibly before continuing.</p> + +<p>"Don't I remimber ivery wurrd the Docthor shpoke," said Martin +slowly—"och, the way he had with him.</p> + +<p>"'The <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> is it?' sez he. 'What would ye be askin' for betther?' sez +he. ''Tis this way and that way wid the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span>,' sez he, 'and he'll not +be aisy till he's wiped Ballymurky off the map, so he would. And the +<span class="sc">German Emperor</span> is as bad,' sez he. 'It's Bairrlin or Ballymurky, boys, +so it is,' sez he; 'just that.</p> + +<p>"'Is ut have the Germans over here in Ballymurky ye would?' sez he. +'Sure 'tis not butthermilk and praties they'd be contint with, Doolan, +me boy,' sez he; 'faith 'tis your pig they'd be afther atin. And 'tis +not you the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> would be decoratin' with an iron cross; 'tis more +like a lick of his shtick ye'd be afther gettin, Doolan—and the +thrubble ye've taken with the rarin' of the crayther. Och, ye could +nivver look the pig in the face again if ye shtayed.'"</p> + +<p>Martin subsided a while to show me Doolan's pig, which was taking the +air outside. "And that," he remarked, "is corrosive ividence of what I'm +tellin' ye." The pig grunted his compliments, and Martin continued.</p> + +<p>"'Wait till I tell ye what they did at Louvain,' sez the Doc. 'Whist +now, till ye hear this,' sez he.</p> + +<p>"'Och, 'twas black murther they did there, the villians! The currse of +<span class="sc">Crummle</span> seize thim,' sez he. 'Arrah! hould yoursilf in, you there, +Conlan,' sez he; 'go aisy, now,' sez he; 'sure they'll do worse here. +'Tis not satisfied with Louvain they'll be, Shamus; 'tis knockin' your +cabin about your ears ye'll have them—and what will hersilf say to +that?' sez he; 'sure, 'twill be the best vintilated cabin in Ireland, so +it will.'</p> + +<p>"'Is ut the <span class="sc">German Emperor</span> ye would have sittin' shmokin' his pipe in +your cabin and fryin' sausages in your best pan, without so much as by +your lave, and you waitin' on him, Mrs. Murphy?'</p> + +<p>"'Sure, ye know it is not, Docthor dear,' sez she.</p> + +<p>"'Drivin up and down the street in your side-car he'd be, Patsy Burrke, +him and his ginerals, till your horse dropped dead on him, and divil a +bit he'd care.</p> + +<p>"'I'm lookin' at you there, Larry,' sez the Docthor. ''Tis waitin' for +Molly to say the wurrd ye are, Larry, me boy: but sure 'tis yourself +that'll say the wurrd now. Och, 'tis fallin' over herself Molly will be +to see ye in your rigimintals.</p> + +<p>"'Ballymurky, is ut? Arrah ye'll not know Ballymurky afther the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> +has done with it. Isn't it changing the name of the dear ould place that +he'll be afther?</p> + +<p>"'First-class he'd be thravellin', no less, with the boots of him on the +sate, and him without a ticket; and 'tis Rothenberg would be the name on +the station, bad cess to him!</p> + +<p>"'Rothenberg! d'ye hear that, Casey? And you a railway porther. Isn't +<span class="sc">Kitchener</span> an Irishman, good luck to him, and isn't he lookin' for ye all +to go? Isn't the <span class="sc">Tsar</span> of Russia himself goin' to Berlin, and won't he be +lookin' for ye there, Micky? What'll he think if ye are not there to +meet him? "So Micky didn't come," he'll say; "what's come over him?" +he'll say. "Sure he's not the boy I thought he was," he'll say. Just +that. And you there, Micky, ye divil, all the time. Ye'd have the laugh +on him thin, Micky, so ye would.</p> + +<p>"'"Begorra!" he'll say, looking round, "sure the whole of Ballymurky's +here." And why not? Bedad 'tis not the first time that Ballymurky's been +on the spree.</p> + +<p>"'The <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> is ut, boys,' sez the Docthor. 'Arrah have done with ye,' +sez he. 'Sure there won't be anny <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> worth mintioning afther +Ballymurky's finished wid him...."</p> + +<p>"Be this and be that I'm thinkin' the same too," said Old Martin +Cassidy, as he relighted his pipe.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE LIMIT OF IGNORANCE.</h2> + +<blockquote>(<i>Mr. <span class="sc">Arnold Bennett</span> in one of his recent works speaks of having met a +Town Clerk who had never heard of <span class="sc">H. G. Wells</span></i>.)</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">As in a Midland city park</p> +<p class="i2">Great <span class="sc">Bennett</span> latterly was walking,</p> +<p class="i0">He came across a live Town Clerk,</p> +<p class="i2">Who, as they stopped and fell a-talking,</p> +<p class="i0">Confessed—so truthful <span class="sc">Arnold</span> tells—</p> +<p class="i0"><i>He'd never heard of <span class="sc">H. G. Wells</span>!</i></p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">This ghastly ignorance, alas!</p> +<p class="i2">Of that renowned investigator,</p> +<p class="i0">Whom every age and every class</p> +<p class="i2">Hails as its only educator,</p> +<p class="i0">Is no experience isolated,</p> +<p class="i0">But can be promptly duplicated.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The only Mayor I know—at least</p> +<p class="i2">I know by sight—a splendid creature,</p> +<p class="i0">Whose presence at a civic feast</p> +<p class="i2">Is always a conspicuous feature,</p> +<p class="i0">Has lately in his favourite organ</p> +<p class="i0">Proclaimed his ignorance of <span class="sc">De Morgan</span>.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Again, the other day I ran</p> +<p class="i2">Against a friend ('twas in Long Acre),</p> +<p class="i0">A simple estimable man—</p> +<p class="i2">He plies the trade of undertaker—</p> +<p class="i0">Who filled me with dismay and awe</p> +<p class="i0">By asking, "Who is <span class="sc">Bernard Shaw</span>?"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">My hatter, too, who ranks among</p> +<p class="i2">The leaders of his useful calling,</p> +<p class="i0">Shows in regard to <span class="sc">Filson Young</span></p> +<p class="i2">An apathy that's quite appalling,</p> +<p class="i0">For this benighted, blighted hatter</p> +<p class="i0">Has never read <i>The Things that Matter</i>!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Saddest of all, a Don I know,</p> +<p class="i2">A man of curious futile learning,</p> +<p class="i0">Studied <span class="sc">Jane Austen</span> long ago</p> +<p class="i2">With admiration undiscerning,</p> +<p class="i0">Till <i>Mr. Bennett</i>, thanks to <span class="sc">Jane</span></p> +<p class="i0">Ousted all others from his brain.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE OLD BULLDOG BREED.</h2> + +<center><i>The Wavecrest Hydro, Hastings.</i></center> +<center><i>To the Editor of "Punch."</i></center> + +<p>Dear Sir,—I have on several previous occasions communicated to you some +instructive and illuminating examples of the extraordinary intelligence +of my dog Boanerges, but so far (doubtless owing to extreme pressure on +your space) you have not been able to publish them.</p> + +<p>In view of the present grave national emergency, however, I feel +confident that you will be able to find space for the latest instance.</p> + +<p>Boanerges is of the old bulldog breed; that is to say, he is not +precisely a bulldog, but inherits the breed from one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span> +of his grandfathers. Superficially he presents more the appearance of a +wire-haired retriever pom, and it has been difficult to classify him at +Dog Shows. Indeed, I have claimed for him (though unsuccessfully up to +the present) a new class, viz., Pom-Poms. <i>The Canine Chronicle</i> lent me +the weight of its editorial support, suggesting as an alternative name: +Dum-Dums, or Soft-Nosed Bullettes, but I fear me it was scarcely +dignified enough to carry weight with the authorities.</p> + +<p>However, all that is by the way. His heart is in the right place. No +<span class="sc">Wilhelm</span> shall land upon Hastings soil while Boanerges guards the beach.</p> + +<p>To resume, it is my custom to take Boanerges with me on my weekly visit +to a local picture palace. He enjoys it; it stimulates his already keen +intelligence; and there is no charge made for dogs. He stands on my +knees with his fore-paws on the stall in front, and follows the films +with rapt attention. Occasionally he will express his approval or +disapproval by barking, but always in a thoroughly gentlemanly way. He +is critical, but not captious; laudatory, but not fulsome. He makes +allowances for the limitations of the camera. He usually cheers at what, +I believe, are technically known as "the chases," and his hearty bark of +approval is welcomed by the manager of the theatre and by the regular +patrons. Indeed, I firmly believe that Boanerges attracts extra +patronage to the Thursday matinées. He also enjoys lions and tigers, but +not crocodiles or snakes. As I have said, he is of the old bulldog +breed.</p> + +<p>On Thursday last I took Boanerges with me as usual. It was a dull +programme at first, being chiefly devoted to imaginative drama in a Red +Indian reservation. Boanerges growled the old bulldog growl once or +twice, and I could see that he was disappointed with the performance.</p> + +<p>Then came the film of topical events. A heading appeared on the screen: +"The Germans in Louvain." I could feel Boanerges stiffen all over his +wiry bristles.</p> + +<p>The stark ruins were shown, with Prussian soldiers on arrogant +sentry-go. Somebody, no doubt a refugee, hissed out: "<i>A bas les +Bosches!</i>" Boanerges growled a deep menace.</p> + +<p>Then came a picture of the main square of Louvain, with a group of +generals waiting for the march-past and the salute. The soldiers marched +towards us, victorious and triumphant, <i>at the goose-step</i>.</p> + +<p>That was the breaking-point. Flesh and blood could stand it no longer. +All the bulldog strain pounded in his veins. With a roar of anger such +as I have never before heard from him, Boanerges leapt from my +restraining hands and made for the picture.</p> + +<p>He dashed straight at the screen and through it! He devoured a whole +company of goose-stepping Prussians at, so to speak, one mouthful.</p> + +<p>I also, unwontedly moved, rose in my seat and shouted, "Up and at 'em!"</p> + +<p>Boanerges hit the boarding behind the screen, and I think that his nose, +now in bandages, is permanently damaged. Still, his brave deed echoes +through Hastings, and recruiting in the town is brisker than it has ever +been before.</p> + +<p>This time, Sir, I feel confident that you will not refuse Boanerges his +well-deserved place in your columns.</p> + +<p class="regards">Yours, etc.,</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Antony McWhirter.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/425.png"> +<img src="images/425.png" width="100%" alt="Daughter whose husband is at the front" /></a> +<br /><br /> +<p><i>Daughter</i> (<i>whose husband is at the front</i>), "<span class="sc">Oh, Mother, isn't it +splendid? Harry's sent me this paper with a marked passage about what +he's been doing. It says, 'Captain —— of the —— Fusiliers, under +heavy ——, rescued —— from the ——.' Now everybody will know how brave +he is</span>!"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span> + +<h2>PARIS AGAIN.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Big blue overcoat and breeches red as red,</p> +<p class="i0">And a queer quaint <i>képi</i> at an angle on his head;</p> +<p class="i0">And he sang as he was marching, and in the Tuilleries</p> +<p class="i0">You could meet him <i>en permission</i> with Margot on his knee.</p> +<p class="i0">At the little <i>café</i> tables by the dusty palms in tubs,</p> +<p class="i0">In the Garden of the Luxembourg, among the scented shrubs,</p> +<p class="i0">On the old Boul. Mich. of student days, you saw his red and blue;</p> +<p class="i0">Did you come to love the <i>fantassin, le p'tit piou-piou</i>?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">He has gone, gone, vanished, like a dream of yesternight;</p> +<p class="i0">He is out amongst the hedges where the shrapnel smoke is white;</p> +<p class="i0">And some of him are singing still and some of him are dead,</p> +<p class="i0">And blood and mud and sweat and smoke have stained his blue and red.</p> +<p class="i0">He is out amongst the hedges and the ditches in the rain,</p> +<p class="i0">But, when the <i>soixante-quinzes</i> are hushed, just hark!—the old refrain,</p> +<p class="i0">"<i>Si tu veux faire mon bonheur, Marguérite, O Marguérite</i>,"</p> +<p class="i0">Ringing clear above the rifles and the trampling of the feet!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Ah, may <i>le bon Dieu</i> send him back again in blue and red,</p> +<p class="i0">With his queer quaint <i>képi</i> at an angle on his head!</p> +<p class="i0">So the Seine shall laugh again beneath the sunlight's quick caress;</p> +<p class="i0">So the Meudon woods shall echo once again to "<i>La Jeunesse</i>";</p> +<p class="i0">And all along the Luxembourg and in the Tuilleries,</p> +<p class="i0">We shall meet him <i>en permission</i> with Margot on his knee.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER.</h2> + +<center>No. VIII.</center><br /> + +<center>(<i>From Richard Dickson, generally known as Cock-eyed Dick, Private in +the South Loamshire Light Infantry.</i>)</center> + +<p>I suppose I ought to beg your Majesty's humble pardon for using a pencil +for this letter, but it's a good pencil, and, anyhow, we don't run to +ink in the trenches. I don't want to be disrespectful to your Majesty's +Highness. Fact is I'm just a bit fond of you; you're doing our chaps +such a world of good, keeping our hearts up in a manner of speaking and +making us all so angry. When your regiments come out against us, the +word goes round, and it's "Steady, boys; remember we're a contemptible +little army; let's show 'em a bit of contemptible shooting at 800 +yards," or "Fix your contemptible bayonets and go for 'em;" and I +warrant there's many a German chap out of the fighting line for good and +all just on account of that nasty word.</p> + +<p>There's another word, too, that some of your chaps have slung at us. +They say we're a "mercenary" lot, meaning that we took up with +soldiering just because we're paid to do it. Well, we <i>are</i> paid a +shilling or two now and then, but don't you go and make no mistake; we +don't stick it out in the trenches, with Black Marias playing bowls with +us, and the machine-guns crackling at us and the snipers picking us off +just because of getting a few shillings, which very often we don't get +regular. We're in for this job, ah, and we're going to see it through, +too, because we think it's the right thing to do and because we wanted +to do a turn of fighting. We ain't bloodthirsty, and I'm not going to +say we shall be miserable when it's all over, but while it's going on we +like it. There's risks everywhere, even with the quietest jobs. I knew a +chap once as drove a goat-cart for children at the seaside, and one day +when the wind was strong it blew off his hat, and he got to chasing it, +and before he knew where he was he'd gone over the cliff. A careful man +he was, too, but he hadn't reckoned up that particular chance when he +put his savings into a goat and a two-wheeled cart. You can't think of +everything, even if you happen to be a Kaiser. I've heard, by the way, +that you ain't paid so badly for <i>your</i> job of Kaisering; and old Uncle +Franky over in Austria, he rakes 'em in, too, but we don't call you a +mercenary pair, though what drove you to take up the business is more +than I can make out.</p> + +<p>I don't want you to go and make no mistake. You've stirred us up a bit +with all your talk, but we've got no grudge against your soldiers. We +don't <i>hate</i> 'em. They're good fighting men, though I'm not saying that +we ain't better, and good fighting men don't hate one another. We got +one of your blokes the other day. He came on with the attack, and when +we'd beaten it off, there he was still coming on. He'd dropped his rifle +and his helmet was off, and he was groping about with his hands, and he +wasn't shouting "Hock! Hock!" but he didn't stop. We didn't loose off at +him, there was something so funny about him, and in another minute he +tumbled in right atop of us and we took him. He told us afterwards he'd +lost his spectacles and couldn't see a yard in front of him, and that +was the reason for his being so brave. He talked English, too, but in a +funny way, slow and particular and like as if he'd got a bit of suet +pudding in his mouth. Well, we soon made him snug and tidy and then we +started to pull his leg and fill him up, and he swallowed it all down. +We told him something had gone wrong with the beefsteak pie and the jam +tartlets and the orange jelly, and he'd have to satisfy himself with his +own rations; but to-morrow there'd be a prime cut of mutton and an +apple-tart; and he believed all our fairy tales and said he'd write the +story of the English army's food if ever he got home alive. He was a +learned man too, but his lost spectacles gave him a lot of trouble. The +end of it was we made quite a pet of him, and we were quite sorry when +we got relieved and took him to the rear and handed him over as a +prisoner. There wasn't any hatred about it.</p> + +<p class="regards">Yours,</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Cock-Eyed Dick</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>REPATRIATION.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">An interesting alien, he charmed our hours of ease,</p> +<p class="i0">Being either Blue Hungarian or Purple Viennese,</p> +<p class="i0">And he cut a gorgeous figure in his blue (or purple) suit</p> +<p class="i0">As he coaxed enticing noises from (I think it was) the flute.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">If his name upon the programme ever chanced to be defined,</p> +<p class="i0">It was Otto Heinrich Ollendorf, or something of the kind,</p> +<p class="i0">But his casual conversation served surprisingly to show</p> +<p class="i0">That the accent of Vienna much resembled that of Bow.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">When the rumour ran that battle was a-going to begin,</p> +<p class="i0">He was heard to say <i>his</i> country would inevitably win</p> +<p class="i0">(Had it chanced that in my presence such an insult had been said,</p> +<p class="i0">As he wasn't able-bodied, I'd have punched the beggar's head).</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">He declined in public favour; it was rumoured he was sent</p> +<p class="i0">To keep watch upon our doings as he puffed his instrument,</p> +<p class="i0">And we said, "Eject this alien, let him soothe the savage breast</p> +<p class="i0">In a beer-house at Vienna or a band at Budapest."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">But the way was not so lengthy to his own, his native land;</p> +<p class="i0">And where British flautists whistle in a wholly British band</p> +<p class="i0">He performs as well as ever, and confesses to the town</p> +<p class="i0">(With no fear of unemployment) that his proper name is Brown.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 70%"> +<a href="images/427.png"> +<img src="images/427.png" width="100%" alt="Tommy reaching flooded trench" /></a><br /><br /> +<p><i>Tommy</i> (<i>reaching flooded trench lately occupied by the enemy</i>). "<span class="sc">Well, +they say there's no place like 'ome; but it's a bloomin' uncomfortable +place to make such a fuss about leavin'</span>!"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<center>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</center> + +<p><i>Sinister Street, Vol. II.</i> (<span class="sc">Secker</span>) is a book for which I have been +waiting impatiently this great while, and I welcomed it with eagerness. +The first volume left off, you may remember, with <i>Michael</i> just about +to go up to Oxford. Knowing what Mr. <span class="sc">Compton Mackenzie</span> could do with +such a theme, I have anticipated all these months that to watch his hero +at the university would be to renew my own youth. The book has appeared +now, and I am justified of my faith. I say without hesitation that the +first half of this second volume (which, by the way, to show that it is +a second volume and not a sequel, starts at page 499) is the most +complete and truest picture of modern Oxford that has been or is likely +to be written. For those who, like myself, have their most cherished +memories bound up with the life of which it treats, the actuality of the +whole thing would make criticism impossible. But as a matter of fact +these seventeen chapters seem to me to show Mr. <span class="sc">Mackenzie's</span> art at its +best. They display just that strange combination of realism and +aloofness that gives to his writing its special charm. No one has ever +(for example) reproduced more perfectly the talk of young men; and this +scattered speech, in what Mr. <span class="sc">Mackenzie</span> himself might call its +infinitely fugacious quality, contrasts effectively with the deliberate, +somewhat mannered beauty of the setting. Mr. <span class="sc">Mackenzie</span> is an overlord of +words, old and new, bending them to strange and unexpected uses, yet +always avoiding affectation by the sheer vitality of his strength. As +for the matter of these first chapters, one might say that nothing +whatever happens in them. They are an epic of adolescence wherein growth +is the only movement. Events are for the second half of the volume. Here +<i>Michael</i> has come down from Oxford, and has set himself to find and +rescue by marriage the girl <i>Lily</i>, whom (you remember) he loved as a +boy, and who has since drifted into the underworld. About this part of +the story I will only say that, though the art is still there and the +same haunting melody of style, Mr. <span class="sc">Mackenzie</span> has too strong a sense of +atmosphere to allow him to treat squalor in a fashion that will be +agreeable to the universe. Frankly, the over-nice will be prudent to +take leave of <i>Michael</i> on the Oxford platform. The others, following to +the end, will agree with me that he has placed his creator definitely at +the head of the younger school of English fiction.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>For me, the pleasure of travelling consists less in the sight of +museums, cathedrals, picture galleries and landscapes, than in the study +of the native man in the street and his peculiar ways. When abroad, "I +am content to note my little facts," and so is Mr. <span class="sc">Geo. A. Birmingham</span>; +in fact, it was he who first thought of mentioning the matter. The +reverend canon tours in the U.S.A., which is, when you come to think of +it, about the only safe area for the purpose nowadays; he observes the +manners and oddities of the Americans, whether as politicians, pressmen, +hustlers, holiday-makers, hosts, undergraduates, husbands or wives, and +remarks upon them, in <i>Connaught to Chicago</i> (<span class="sc">Nisbet</span>), with just that +quiet and unboisterous humour which his public has come to demand of him +as of right. His first chapter shows that he has ever in mind the +multitude of his fellow-countrymen who have, in the past, made the same +journey but for good and all. This memory leads<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span> him at times into +excessive praise of his subjects, especially the ladies, and so to +apparent disparagement of his people at home. For my part I vastly +prefer the Irish, men, women and children, in Ireland to all or any of +their relatives and friends elsewhere; for when they leave their island +their humour runs to seed and loses that detachment and delicacy which +constitute its unique charm. That Mr. <span class="sc">Birmingham</span>, however, was not +nearly long enough abroad to suffer this deterioration, must be patent +to all who linger over this happy book.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>If Miss <span class="sc">Jessie Pope</span> receives her just reward, she will soon have to put +a notice in the daily papers to the effect that she is grateful for kind +enquiries, but is unable at present to answer them. For I think that any +enterprising boy who reads <i>The Shy Age</i> (<span class="sc">Grant Richards</span>) will forthwith +make it his business to find out the name of the school at which <i>Jack +Venables</i> amused himself, and that even if unavoidable circumstances +prevent him from going there he will, at any rate, remain disgruntled +until he can place his finger upon it on the map. After reading those +tales of school and holiday life, I can only say that the school which +harboured me must have been a dull place, and that I should now like to +return there for a term at least—I doubt if I should be allowed to stay +longer—and liven things up. Miss <span class="sc">Pope</span> starts with one great advantage +over men who write of boys' schools, because the critics cannot say that +her work is autobiographical, and then proceed to "recognise" most of +her characters. That is the terror lurking by day and night for any man +who dares to write a school-tale. On the other hand, although Miss <span class="sc">Pope</span> +has fitted herself remarkably well into the skin of <i>Jack Venables</i>, who +tells these stories but is not (thank goodness) the hero of most of +them, she has not been able entirely to avoid what I must call Papal +touches. For instance, I do not believe that a boy of <i>Jack's</i> age and +character would use the word "feasible," and a special society would +have to be started for the prevention of cruelty to any boy who ventured +to talk of his "aunties." On the whole, however, she has a fine +understanding of boy-nature, and if there are some improbabilities in +these ingenious stories, she is armed with the crushing retort that the +chief characteristic of any properly equipped boy is his improbability.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Possibly owing to some personal disinclination towards violent bodily +exertion on the part of his creator, <i>Father Brown</i>, the criminal +investigator of Mr. <span class="sc">G. K. Chesterton's</span> fancy, is not a fellow of +panther-like physique. For him no sudden pouncing on the frayed +carpet-edge, or the broken collar-stud dyed with gore. He carries no +lens and no revolver. Flashes of psychological insight are more to him +than a meticulous examination of the window-sill. When the motive is +instantly transparent, why bother about the murderer's boots? In the +circumstances it is perhaps fortunate for the reverend sleuth that he +nearly always happens to be in either at the death or immediately after +it, instead of being summoned a day or two later when the grotesque +circumstances of the crime have baffled the panting ingenuity of +Scotland Yard. You find him now in this part of England, and now in +that, now in America, and now in Italy. He is, in fact, a hedge-priest +and has not even a cure of souls in Baker Street. But wherever he goes +with his flapping hat and his umbrella he chances on some fantasy of +guilt. Yet any pangs we may feel for the absence of the familiar +setting—the pale-faced butler in the guarded dining-room of the +country-house and the staggered minions of the local constabulary—are +assuaged by the brilliant narrative manner in which <i>The Wisdom of +Father Brown</i> (<span class="sc">Cassell</span>) is set forth. Here is the paradoxical world of +Mr. <span class="sc">Chesterton's</span> imagination described in his own verbiage and proved by +actual and grisly events. In that starry dream of a detective story +which I sometimes have, where sleuth-hounds are pattering along the +Milky Way and pursue at last the Great Bear to his den, <i>Father Brown</i> +and <i>Sherlock Holmes</i>, the one spectacled, the other lynx-eyed, are +following the prey in leash.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Should you, among wild by-ways of Donegal or Connemara, meet a +procession composed of <i>Patsy McCann</i> the Tinker and the Ass and <i>Mary</i> +with <i>Finaun</i> the Archangel, <i>Caeltia</i> the Seraph, <i>Art</i> the Cherub, +<i>Eileen ni Cooley</i> (a savage lady of easy morals), <i>Billy the Music</i>, +the Seraph Cuchulain and <i>Brien O'Brien</i>, a lost soul who had a +threepenny-bit stolen on him by <i>Cuchulain</i> that same, you would guess +there's only one living man could be behind it—to wit <span class="sc">James Stephens</span>, +<i>Crock-of-Gold</i> <span class="sc">Stephens</span>. Fantastic things indeed happen in <i>The +Demi-Gods</i> (<span class="sc">Macmillan</span>), which is a kind of inspired nightmare, a sort of +Chestertonian inconsequence done into Gaelic, a little less violent and +with a little less malt, but even less coherent. At the risk of being +reckoned among the egregiously imperceptive I would ask Mr. <span class="sc">Stephens</span> +solemnly whether he is not in danger of letting his fancy take bit +between teeth and land him in some bog of sheer literary chaos. The most +distant of the futurists notwithstanding, there must be some rules to +the game or you don't get your work of art. When those modern wizards of +the halls set themselves to a piece of <i>bizarre</i> juggling, say, with a +string of pearls, a dumb-bell and a rose-petal, they do toss and +catch—don't merely let everything just drop. Mr. <span class="sc">Stephens</span> will know +what I mean without caring overmuch. There's something in it all the +same. Anyway, there really are in <i>The Demi-Gods</i> delicate shy pearls +and gleams of the authentic gold of the original <i>Crock</i>. And after all +it wasn't written for middle-aged gentlemen of the Saxon tribe.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 75%"> +<a href="images/428.png"> +<img src="images/428.png" width="100%" alt="German spies taking lessons" /></a><br /><br /> +<p><span class="sc">German spies taking lessons from conjurer in the art of +concealing pigeons</span>.</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>Another Impending Apology.</h4> + +<blockquote><p>"The Shipton family were too well known for anything to be said in +their praise."—<i>Buxton Advertiser.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 147, NOVEMBER 18, 1914***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 29072-h.txt or 29072-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/9/0/7/29072">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/0/7/29072</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 18, 1914 + + +Author: Various + +Editor: Owen Seaman + +Release Date: June 8, 2009 [eBook #29072] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, +VOL. 147, NOVEMBER 18, 1914*** + + +E-text prepared by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 29072-h.htm or 29072-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29072/29072-h/29072-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29072/29072-h.zip) + + + + + +PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI + +VOLUME 147. + +November 18, 1914. + + + + + + + + +CHARIVARIA. + +Contrary to the usual custom there were no official dinners on the eve +of the opening of Parliament. The explanation of this is clear to the +German Press. It was due to scarcity of food. + + * * * + +Upon receipt of the Japanese ultimatum, the KAISER, it may be +remembered, cabled to the commander of his Chinese fortress:--"Bear in +mind that it would shame me more to surrender Kiaochau to the Japanese +than Berlin to the Russians." The kind-hearted Russians will now, we +feel sure, have less compunction in taking Berlin, seeing that the blow +will have been softened to an anticlimax. + + * * * + +The KAISER'S hair, it is said, is now bleached: but this attempt to look +like a white man will deceive no one. + + * * * + +Just as we go to press a report reaches us which certainly bears the +impress of truth on the face of it. It declares that the CROWN PRINCE +has been shot for looting by a short-sighted brother-officer who did not +recognise the son of God's Vice-regent on Earth. + + * * * + +"The British Navy is in hiding," says the _Koelnische Zeitung_. We beg +our fragrant contemporary not to worry. In due course the Germans shall +have the hiding. + + * * * + +It is so frequently stated that the leaders of the German Army attach no +importance to the lives of their men that it seems only fair to point +out that last week Brussels was fined L200,000 for wounding a couple of +German policemen. + + * * * + +Neither the French, Russian, Belgian, nor British troops like the idea +of fighting against the mere youths whom a paternal KAISER is now +sending into the firing line, and a humane suggestion has been put +forward for correcting this embarrassment. Would it not be possible, it +is asked, to arrange Boys' Own Battles, in which the German little ones +would be opposed by the young of the Allies? + + * * * + +"Klopstock, one of our greatest geniuses," says the _Hamburger +Fremdenblatt_, "taught us, 'Be not excessively just.' We shall endeavour +now to follow that teaching." We should say that there is no great +danger of the German nation breaking down under the strain of this +effort. + + * * * + +"How ever do the Teutons manage to produce so many lies about us?" asks +"A Lover of Truth." Our correspondent is evidently not much of a +gardener or he would have heard of "Intensive Culture." + + * * * + +The reply published by the _Vossische Zeitung_ to the protest of French +clergymen against the destruction of Louvain and the shelling of Rheims +Cathedral contained at least one unfortunate expression. It asserted +that the GERMAN EMPEROR and the German People are both permeated with a +burning love of peace. + + * * * + +The Rev. Mr. EDWARDS has resigned his assistant curacy at Tettenhall +under somewhat peculiar circumstances, but we are sure the case is not +so bad as _The Wolverhampton Express_ would have us believe. According +to our contemporary this gentleman exhorted his congregation "not to +hate the Germans, but rather to pay for them." + + * * * + +A wounded Tommy in one of our London hospitals, on being asked, the +other day, by a lady visitor what he thought of the French soldiers, +replied that he very much admired the French Curacaos. + + * * * + +When in Breslau, The Evening News tells us, the KAISER promised that the +Russian Army should be crushed. Fortunately in this case the undertaking +was not even written on a scrap of paper. + + * * * + +"For thirty-two years," says the _Vossische Zeitung_, "Egypt has had to +endure British rule." Curiously enough this bright little sheet does not +go on to point out that during the same period the poor Egyptians have +also had to put up with a good deal of prosperity. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: "WOT'S THE USE OF THIS 'ERE EARLIER CLOSING?" + +"WY IN CASE OF A ZEPPELIN RAID. IF THE 'UN SMELLS BEER 'E'LL 'AVE IT!" + + * * * * * + +A BEAUTY SPOT. + + "This photograph of the town of Pervyse, on the road from Nieuport + to Dixmude, has been taken and retaken by both sides several times. + Our photograph was taken just after it had again come into the + possession of the Allies."--_Daily Chronicle._ + +It is now the German photographer's turn again. + + * * * * * + +Another song for the KAISER:-- + +"COME TSING TAU ME." + + * * * * * + +Translation of a letter received by The Morning Post:-- + + "By spring-time of the 6,000,000 German soldiers there will remain + only three capable of fighting." + +The CROWN PRINCE and two privates. + + * * * * * + + "PATRIOTISM FOR PAUPER CHILDREN.--The Lambeth Guardians yesterday + decided that in order that the Poor-law school children may have an + opportunity of appreciating the position of national affairs the + usual practice of allowing each child an egg for breakfast on + Christmas morning be suspended this year."--_Times._ + +If this doesn't learn them to love their country, it ought, at any rate, +to encourage them to honour and respect the patriotic Lambeth Guardians. + + * * * * * + + "Pending operations for her capture, or destruction, effective steps + have been taken to block the Koenigsberg in by inking colliers in the + only navigable channel." + + _Birmingham Daily Mail._ + +Aren't they black enough already? + + * * * * * + +Examples of official enthusiasm are always welcome, and we therefore +give further publicity to the following:-- + + "The Cossacks who have been mobilised in the Amur district have sent + the following telegram to the Commander-in-Chief of the Russian + forces: + + 'Your children are coming to your aid, father commander. They come + shouting "Hurrah!"' + + The Grand Duke Nicholas replied: + + 'I shall be very pleased to see you.'--_Reuter._" + + * * * * * + +TO THE BITTER END. + +(_A word with the War-Lord._) + + A rumour comes from Rome (where rumours breed) + That you are sick of taking blow on blow, + And would inter with all convenient speed + The hatchet wielded by your largest foe. + + Is it the shadow Christmas casts before + That makes the iron of your soul unbend, + And melt in prayer for this unholy war + (Meaning the part that pinches most) to end? + + Is it your fear to mark at that high feast + The writing on the wall that seals your fate, + And, where the Christ-star watches in the East, + To hear the guns that thunder at your gate? + + For on your heart no Christmas Peace can fall. + The chimes shall be a tocsin, and the red + Glow of the Yule-wood embers shall recall + A myriad smouldering pyres of murdered dead. + + And anguish, wailing to the wintry skies, + Shall with its dirges drown the sacred hymn, + And round your royal hearth the curse shall rise + Of lowly hearths laid waste to suit your whim. + + And you shall think on altars left forlorn, + On temple-aisles made desolate at your nod, + Where never a white-robed choir this holy morn + Shall chant their greeting to the Birth of God. + + Peace? There is none for you, nor can be none; + For still shall Memory, like a fetid breath, + Poison your life-days while the slow hours run, + Till it be stifled in the dust of Death. + + O. S. + + * * * * * + +WHY I DON'T ENLIST. + + [Curiosity is often expressed regarding the causes which have + prevented young men from enlisting. Considerable interest, + therefore, should attach to the following replies to enquiries, an + inspection of which has been permitted us by the Secretary of the + Patriotic League, an organisation which seeks to stimulate + recruiting by writing to young healthy and unmarried men and asking + them why they do not join the colours.] + +My Dear Sir,--I fully understand your views--in fact I am in cordial +agreement with them. It would be quite fair to say of most young +unmarried men that they could and should be spared. But this cannot be +said of all young men. There is a small section of literary and other +artists whose lives must continue to be immeasurably precious to the +nation which has given them birth. From this company it is impossible +for me to exclude myself. There is a higher patriotism, to the dictates +of which I must respond. With infinite regrets, and thanks for what is +doubtless a well-meant endeavour, + + I am, dear Sir, yours sincerely, + ENDYMION BROWNE. + +P.S.--If you should be in town on the 24th, I am giving a reading from +my own works at the United Intensities Club--"A Night with Endymion +Browne." + +Dear Sir,--What you say is O.K. KITCHENER must have men and all that +sort of thing. Show the KAISER who's boss, and so on. But there are some +men who _can't_ possibly go. And I'm one. It's all very well to say +"Go," but _if_ I go--let me ask you quite seriously--how on earth is +Smoketown Tuesday F.C. to lift the English pot? I don't want to shout +about myself, but it is a known fact that I'm positively the _only_ +centre forward they've got. I'm worth L200 a week to the gate alone. If +you don't care to accept my word, that it is absolutely _impossible_ for +me to go, I'll refer you to what our secretary says at foot. + + Yours, + ALF BOOTER. + +_Note by Secretary_--What Booter says is quite true. He is +indispensable. We paid L1,000 for his transfer, and could not possibly +sanction his leaving us. Besides, some of his many thousand admirers +might want to follow his example, and where would our gate be then? + +Dear Sir,--If I was to go and enlist, how could I follow the Occident +and help 'em to win the League Championship? There it is, quite +short--how? And if I didn't follow, and if others like me didn't follow, +how'd the club stick it? How'd it keep going? What price duty of staying +at home? + + I am, yours truly, + BERT SOCKSLEY. + +[Dictated.] + +Sir,--I snatch a moment to answer your letter, "Why don't I go to fight +the Germans?" I _am_ fighting them. I cleared L500 this morning which, +before the war, would have gone into a German pocket. My motto is +"Business as usual," and I have no complaints whatever against the +Germans so long as I can go on fighting them some more in my own way. + + Yours faithfully, + GEORGE CRABBE. + +My Dear Sir,--Your letter for my brother, John Halton, has reached me by +mistake, but I'll answer it. "Why don't I go?" Just send me a recipe for +turning me into a boy, and you'll not have to ask me twice. + + Yours very sincerely, + JOAN HALTON. + +Dear Sir,--I know what my job is, so don't you come poking your nose in +where it isn't wanted. I'm for England, I am. And I'm doing my bit. _The +Evening Wiper_ said only the other day that a Britisher's duty was to +keep cheerful, and that the man who did that was serving his country. +Well, I _am_ cheerful--I didn't turn a hair even over Mons--slept +exactly the same, and had bacon and tomato for my breakfast. Then they +say, "Carry on." And I do carry on. I go out as usual, dress just as +carefully--spats, fancy waistcoat, buttonhole, etc. One night it's the +Imperial and another it's the Cinema. Men are wanted to cheer the +patriotic songs and to sing the chorus of "Tipperary." I help here. Then +I spend my money freely--_freely_, I tell you. Any Tommy I meet can have +a drink--half a dozen at my expense, and no return expected. I got two +quite blind last night, and never asked 'em for a sou. Then again, I've +spent quite a lot on flags. I always wear six on the front of my bike +when I scorch through the crowds coming out of church on Sundays. I've +got portrait buttons, too, of JOFFRE and KITCH., and I'm never ashamed +to wear 'em. _And I'm always urging chaps to go and enlist._ So you see +I am doing my bit. + + Yours truly, + ALBERT SPOTTLE. + + * * * * * + +In a Good Cause. + +A _Matinee_ will be given at the Empire on Thursday, the 26th, in aid of +_The Daily Telegraph's_ Belgian Relief Fund. Among the patrons are The +JAPANESE AMBASSADOR, the BELGIAN MINISTER and the Grand Duke MICHAEL. + +Many popular _artistes_ have offered their services, including Miss +PHYLLIS BEDELLS, Miss GLADYS COOPER, Miss ETHEL LEVEY, Miss IRENE +VANBRUGH, Miss WISH WYNNE, Mr. WILKIE BARD, Mr. WILL EVANS, Mr. ALFRED +LESTER, Mr. JAMES TATE, Mr. LEWIS WALLER and Mr. JAMES WELCH. + +_Mr. Punch_ very heartily commends the cause and its advocates to his +gentle readers. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: GOOD HUNTING. + +A CHIP OF THE OLD BLOCK. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: "MOTHER, LOOK AT THAT POOR SOLDIER: WOUNDED IN BOTH +FEET." + + * * * * * + +WITH ALL RESERVE. + +Departing from the time-honoured custom of believing everything they see +in print, the British people are learning in these times that one should +only run the risk of believing printed news that has passed the Censor. +By the time the war is over the new habit will have become established, +and we may look for items like the following in our daily papers:-- + +The right hon. gentleman went on to say that so long as the people of +this country permitted the present Government to remain in power, so +long would this country be governed in a manner which could never win +the approval of the Opposition. + +[The above having been passed by the Censor may be accepted as +correct.--ED.] + +The weather yesterday varied throughout the country. While in the +extreme north it was warm and sunny, in the south snow fell. A violent +hailstorm swept Battersea from end to end; yet in Stornoway the day was +marked by a sky of cloudless blue. Once more the climate of these +islands showed itself to be a fickle and unstable thing. + +[The above has been submitted to the Censor, who sees no reason why it +should be withheld from the public; and it may therefore be taken that +in the main it is moderately accurate.--ED.] + +Lady A.'s dinner-party at the Ritz Hotel last evening was not a great +success. The decorations of pink carnations were but moderately admired +by her undistinguished guests. The Blue Petrogradese Orchestra played +without particular brilliance. Among those absent without reason +assigned were the Duke and Duchess of W., the Earl and Countess X., the +Bishop of Y., and Mr. Z., the unknown poet. + +[The above has been submitted to the Censor, who possessed no official +knowledge of the facts, but considered that the report had an air of +sufficient probability.--ED.] + + * * * * * + +TO THE UNDYING HONOUR OF A SUPER-PATRIOT. + + Commemorate, ye gods, the noble mind + Of Brown (A. J.), a youth of classic parts, + Whose soul was ever faultlessly inclined + To music, verse, and all the gracious arts; + At things of taste, in fact, Augustus John + Was always, and is yet, a perfect don. + + But lately I have fathomed deeps unknown + Before in my incomparable friend; + No mere artistic trifler, he has shown + A patriot heart of high heroic trend, + And showered sacrifice with fearless hand + Upon the altar of his Motherland. + + I haled him to a "music" hall to hear + The Great Recruiting Song, and watched him wince + And writhe throughout, as though his end were near; + But now I learn that, every evening since, + Brown has been there, in England's sacred cause, + To greet that patriot song with loud applause! + + * * * * * + +AUNT LOUISA'S SONG SCENA. + +Just as adversity sometimes brings out men's strongest characteristics, +hitherto unsuspected, so can amateur theatricals lead to surprising +discoveries of humour and resource. Everyone must have noticed it. + +No one had ever credited Aunt Louisa with any dramatic sense whatever. +She is so gentle and so placid. She was always something of a knitter, +and, like all essential knitters, given to sitting a little outside of +life; but since the war broke out she has knitted practically without +ceasing; and who would dream of going to a knitter for stage effects? + +Therefore we were astonished when, in talking over the projected +Saturday night's entertainment, Aunt Louisa ventured the statement that +she had thought out a scheme for a little interlude, and might she be +permitted to carry it out? Just a mere fill up, but topical, or possibly +even more than topical--prophetic. + +Of course she might. + +"Is it a tableau?" our stage manager inquired. + +"No, I shouldn't call it a tableau," said Aunt Louisa; "I should call it +a song scena." + +How on earth did she hear that phrase? She never goes to music-halls. I +would as soon expect to hear her speak of "featuring." + +"A song scena," she went on, "the hero of which is the KAISER; and I +shall want half-a-dozen gentlemen to assist." + +The busy fingers knitted away and the gold spectacles were fixed on us +with bland benignity. Aunt Louisa writing a song scena and ordering a +chorus, just like Mr. GEORGE EDWARDES, was not the least of the miracles +produced by this war. + +A company of six of us volunteered, of whom I was one. Another was Mr. +Herbert Foley, who has made private theatricals his life study. + +"Anything I can do to help you in coaching the performers and so on," he +said, "I shall be only too pleased to do. You know I'm no chicken at +this sort of thing." + +"Thank you," said Aunt Louisa, "but I think I can manage." + +"All right," replied Mr. Foley, "but, of course----. Want of +experience----" + +"First of all," said Aunt Louisa, "I must choose a Kaiser. Someone who +can act." + +We all became very self-conscious. Our expressions said severally, "No +one can act as well as I, but it's rotten form to push oneself forward." + +Aunt Louisa scanned us narrowly and, much to everybody else's surprise, +picked out Tommy Thurlow. To my mind she could not have made a worse +choice; but, as it happened, her judgment was sound. + +Foley seemed piqued. "Then what do _we_ do?" he asked. + +"You are chorus men," said she. + +"Chorus!" said Foley. + +"Isn't that the right word? I know so little about these things. Perhaps +I ought to have said 'supers.'" + +She then told us what to do, knitting all the while. + +On the evening Aunt Louisa's song scena was the success of the show. It +was called "The Haunted Kaiser," and it began with a distracted demented +Tommy Thurlow, with the familiar Potsdam moustache and an excellent wig +from London, rushing on with his fingers in his ears. No doubt as to who +it was--the WAR LORD in a state bordering on delirium. Having calmed +down a little, he began to sing:-- + + For years and years I'd waited, + Preparing for _The Day_---- + The day that meant for Germany + A universal sway. + Alas, alack, + For my set back! + +At this point a number of tea-trays were smitten resonantly "off." Tommy +dramatically heard them and sang:-- + + What's that that smites upon my ear, + The sound of cruel guns I hear, + That sound of fear? + +More tea-tray. + + The British, French and Russians + They are murdering my Prussians: + Why did I make this war? + They're in my way by day, by night: + In vain, in vain I take to flight, + I'll hear them evermore---- + Those guns! Those guns! + +Tremendous applause, while Tommy prepared for the second verse and Aunt +Louisa's great effect. + + Alas! for my ambition, + My glory passed away! + What is there left of Germany + But misery to-day? + Alack, alas, + For such a pass! + +Here on several concertinas in different parts of the hall, as well as +upstairs, was heard, "It's a long way to Tipperary." Tommy began to +behave like a maniac. He rushed about more wildly than before. He +stopped his ears. He tried to hide. Then he began to sing again:-- + + What's that that bursts upon my ear, + That overwhelming song I hear, + That sound of fear? + Though brave my men and wary, + They've been done by "Tipperary;" + Why did I make this war? + It's in my brain by day, by night, + In vain, in vain I take to flight, + I'll hear it evermore-- + That song! That song! + +Now came the great dramatic effect. On to the stage climbed, in the +latest revue manner, from all parts of the house, the army of which I +had the honour to be one, all pointing the finger of doom at the +cringing Tommy Thurlow. Having got him well into our midst and broken to +the world, we sang at him these stirring lines to a too familiar tune:-- + + It's a long way to get to Paree, + It's a long way to go; + It's the wrong way through little Belgium, + The wrongest way we know. + Good-bye, KAISER BILLY; + Farewell, O mein Herr; + It's a long, long way to St. Helena, + But your home's right there! + +Terrific success; and, after some moments of reluctance, Aunt Louisa, +still knitting a sock, was induced to bow. + +But it wasn't a bad first effort at drama by an old lady in gold +spectacles, was it? I have seen worse by professional writers. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: _Patriotic Wife._ "NOW, RICHARD, BEFORE YOU GO, LET ME +HEAR YOU REPEAT MY INSTRUCTIONS." + +_Richard._ "I MUST REMEMBER I'M THE HUSBAND OF AN ENGLISHWOMAN, AND I'M +NOT TO COME BACK WITHOUT THE KAISER!" + + * * * * * + +Illustration: MR. THESPIAN JONES, THE FAMOUS ANIMAL IMPERSONATOR, +OFFERS HIS SERVICES AS "COLLECTING DOG" UNDER THE AUSPICES OF A RELIEF +COMMITTEE-- + +--BUT SUDDENLY FORGETS HIMSELF ON THE ARRIVAL OF GOOD NEWS FROM THE +FRONT. + + * * * * * + +THE KAISER'S "HATE." + +[The feeling in Germany, it appears, is now quite friendly towards +France and Russia, and all the fury of the Press is concentrated on +England.] + + When first the champions were listed, + When first the shells began to fall, + Some trace of animus existed + Between the Teuton and the Gaul; + King WILLIAM was extremely callous, + Nay, even found a certain zest + In riding from his Potsdam palace + To show his purple to the West. + + But what a charm the Frenchman carries! + His compliments how wide they range! + Before King WILLIAM got to Paris + His feelings underwent a change: + "Our ancient feud against the Latin," + He said, "has sensibly decreased;" + And rising from the trench he sat in + He moved his umbrage to the East. + + He trampled on the Polish border; + He cried that Russia was the foe; + The German Press received the order + And answered meekly, "That is so;" + But when King WILLIAM met the Tartar + His soul sustained another wrench, + He found the Slavs were even smarter + At entertainments than the French. + + They gave him such a royal greeting + With Cossack horsemen making curves + That WILLIAM asked them, on retreating, + To try his Prussian game preserves; + "Duke NICHOLAS is not the canker," + He told his German scribblers then; + "His treatment has disarmed my rancour" + (It certainly disarmed his men). + + "Out yonder in the circling billows + There lies the object of my scorn, + We hate these English armadilloes, + We wish they never had been born; + Their name to us is rank and fetid, + And on their sins our rage is fed;" + And all the German Press repeated + Precisely what the KAISER said. + + Eh well. That water is a worry! + And doubtless, if the iron glove + Should meet us here in Kent or Surrey, + Its clasp might soften into love; + We might despatch him with a grey grin, + And all the German Scribes would vow + "Our bugbear is the Montenegrin; + We do not hate the English now." + + But better still to cool his dudgeon + Where week by week our nobler sons + Have proved Britannia's no curmudgeon + By salvoes of applauding guns; + To save him toil without his landing, + To meet him with more warm advance, + And help to share that "understanding" + He has with Russia and with France. + + EVOE. + + * * * * * + +THE LAST LINE. + +IV. + +We progress. The days when the whole art of war consisted of "On the +left, form platoons.... On the _left_, blanket," are over. Skirmishing, +signalling, musketry, Swedish drill--a variety of entertainment is now +open to us; there is even a class for buglers. To give you an idea of +the Corps at work, I offer you a picture of James and myself semaphoring +to each other. + +James is in the middle distance, a couple of flags draped over his +person. I am going to send him a message. I signal to him that I am +about to begin; he waves back that he is ready. Now then.... + +My mind becomes a complete blank. I find that I have absolutely nothing +to say to James. + +"Go on," says my instructor. + +"Yes, but what?" I ask. All desire to interchange thought with James has +left me. + +"Anything. Ask him, if a herring and a half costs three ha'pence, how +much----" + +"Yes, but that's too long. It would take me at least a week, and by that +time the herring would be censored. No, I've got it." + +It has occurred to me suddenly that it would annoy James if I reminded +him of his professional life. He looks so military in his puttees and +khaki shirt. + +"_Do--you--want--a--nice--mortgage?_" I signal. + +James takes it up to "nice," and then breaks down. The "m-o" he reads as +"s-w" (an easy mistake to make), and he imagines that I am offering him +a nice sword--a fitting offer to one of his martial appearance. When the +third letter turns out to be not the "o" which he expected, he loses his +head and signals "Repeat." + +I give it him again slowly. He reads the first five letters as s-w-r-t-g +and assumes this time that I am offering him a nice town in Poland. It +is five minutes before we get the mortgage properly established, and by +then James is utterly disgusted. + +He is now going to send a message to me. There is nothing half-hearted +about James when he has his khaki shirt on. + +"_Why the devil don't you send up those guns?_" he signals. + +General James is hard pressed. The enemy is advancing in echelon against +his left wing; cavalry beat themselves against the hollow square on his +right; his centre has formed platoon after platoon unavailingly. Still +the enemy comes on. Where the devil are those guns? + +I signalled back: + +"_Sorry, but B Company is using the bullet._" + +It was a blow to James. Reluctantly he came to his decision. + +"_Must fall back,_" he said, and he caught a flag between his legs and +did so.... + +Well, there you have us signalling. To show you us skirmishing I cannot +do better than describe the fierce engagement between A and C Companies, +which resulted in the entire annihilation of A. But perhaps that would +not be fair. I am a prejudiced recorder; let one of A Company speak. + +He was annoyed. + +"We worked round their flank," he said, "and we'd got quite close up to +them under cover of a wood when we came on one of them smoking a pipe. +He said he was an outpost, and that he'd decimated us all long ago." + +"What did you do?" asked his friend. + +"We scragged him." + +Personally I had a safer position among the supports. A decimated enemy +in the first flush of annoyance can be dangerous. I merely lay in a +ditch and counted ants.... But I was very glad to hear we'd won. + +Rifle exercises go on apace. We have a curious collection of weapons +("weapons of precision" as they are called by those who have never seen +my targets), an order for six hundred of one family having fallen +through, owing to a clerical error. "We can offer you 600 rifles, 1900 +pattern," the firm wrote; but an inspection of them showed that the "6" +and the "9" had got mixed up. + +But even with more modern weapons than these we are not very formidable +as yet, and for some weeks we must rely on other methods of striking +terror into the hearts of the enemy. Luckily we are acquiring an +excellent substitute for lead. As an example of "frightfulness" nothing +can exceed the appearance of one of our really mixed platoons lying on +its backs and waving its legs in the air. This is one of the Swedish +drill movements ... and, as I think I have mentioned before, we are all +ages and shapes.... + +Let me conclude with a little story to show the dangers to which we are +subject and the fearlessness with which we face them. I cite the case of +Reginald Arbuthnot Wilkins. + +R. A. Wilkins is just as keen as they make them, and it is his great +sorrow that, being in an important Government office, he is not allowed +to enlist. For my liking he is too smart; when he does a "right-turn" he +does it with a jerk that you can almost hear. The click of the heels is +all very well, but Reginald Arbuthnot makes his neck click too. An +"eyes-right" nearly takes his head off. + +A dozen of them, including Reginald, were being taught saluting the +other day. There was an imaginary Field-Marshal or somebody on the left, +and they were told to turn the head smartly to the left, at the same +time bringing the right hand up to the salute.... "Sa-_lute!_" Reginald +Arbuthnot Wilkins whizzed his head round to the left, but accidentally +brought the wrong hand up. There was a crash as his left thumb met his +left eye-ball, and Reginald was in hospital for a week. + +The remarkable thing is that the other eleven, quite undismayed, went on +practising the salute. That gives you some idea of our spirit. + + A. A. M. + + * * * * * + +STRATEGIC DISEASE. + +[Some of the German military authorities having explained that their +retreat from Paris was due to the spread of cholera in that city, we may +perhaps expect to have something like the following further +"explanations" elsewhere.] + + Our recent rather smart retreat + From Warsaw need not cause disquiet; + Our army met with no defeat + Nor suffered from defective diet; + We marched away because we knew + Warsaw was reeking with the 'Flu. + + Our move from Calais was, of course, + A great strategic retrogression, + We were compelled, though not by force, + To leave another in possession; + But that's no ground for doleful dumps, + Calais was chucked because of Mumps. + + Soon we shall see, though scarce as yet, + Huns and howitzers hustled over + Yon nauseous streak of heaving wet + Which still divides our arms from Dover; + And should "high failure" then occur + Lay the whole blame on Mal-de-mer. + + * * * * * + +LE MOT JUSTE. + + "Reports of military movements behind the Germans' front in Belgium + are contradictory and too bragmentary to be worth much." + +--_Western Mail._ + + * * * * * + + "Mr. Churchill: Six, nine, twelve months hence you will begin to see + results that will spell the domm of Germany." + +--_Daily Mail._ + +We could spell it better than that in three months. + + * * * * * + + "The smallness of the members present was due in large measure to + the war." + +_Edinburgh Evening Despatch._ + +The shortage of food, due to the German blockade, is at last making +itself felt.--[_Wireless from Berlin._] + + * * * * * + +Illustration: THE HISTORY OF A PAIR OF MITTENS. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: "WAAL, IT'S THIS WAY. WE AMURRICANS DON'T TAKE NO +SIDES--WE'RE AB-SO-LOOTLY NOOTRAL. WE DON' GIVE A ROW O' BEANS WHICH OF +YOU KNOCKS THE KAISER OUT." + + * * * * * + +SAFEGUARDS. + +It was the special terms to Special Constables that tempted me--and I +fell. + +I don't just remember how many times I fell, but it was pretty nearly as +often as the "Professor" of the wily art took hold of me. Before the +first lesson was over, falling became more than a mere pastime with me, +it grew into a serious occupation. + +So I left the jiu-jitsu school at the end of the second lesson with a +nodding acquaintance with some very pretty holds and a very firm +determination to practise them on Alfred when he got back to the office +next day from Birmingham. + + * * * + +I suppose I ought to have persevered with my lessons a little longer, +but I was losing my self-respect, and felt that nothing would help me to +gain it better than to cause somebody else to do the falling for a bit. + +Alfred is six-foot-two, but a trifle weedy-looking, and so good-tempered +that I knew he wouldn't resent being practised on. + +As he came in I advanced with outstretched hand to meet him. + +"How goes it?" he said cheerily, holding out his hand. + +"Like this," I said, as I gripped his right wrist instead of his +fingers, turned to the left till I was abreast of him, inserted my left +arm under his right, gripped the lapel of his coat with my left hand and +turning his wrist downward with my right, pressed his arm back. To +attack unexpectedly is the great thing. + +"Don't be a funny ass," said Alfred, as I lifted myself out of the +waste-paper basket. + +How I got there I wasn't quite sure, but concluded that I had muffed the +business with my left arm by not inserting it well above his elbow for +the leverage. + +"Sorry," I said; "the new handshake. Everybody's doing it." + +"Are they?" said Alfred. "Well, I've been having some lessons in +etiquette myself the last few days from a naval man I met down at Hythe. +Seen the new embrace?" + +"Er--no," I said, putting a chair between us, "I don't think I have; but +I'm not feeling affectionate this morning. I'm going to lunch." + +Thank goodness, if I do meet a spy, I've got a truncheon and a whistle. + + * * * * * + +MAKING THE BEST OF IT. + + "Now that supplies of German chemicals and drugs are not procurable, + sufferers from nervous dyspepsia, etc., should give a trial to + nervous dispepsia, etc." + +_Bristol Evening Times._ + +_Sufferer (after trial)._ "No, it's just as painful spelt with an 'i'." + + * * * * * + + "Other Petrograd despatches state that an increase in taxation by + one-half is expected.... It is believed the increase will produce a + milliard of troubles."--_The Mirror (Trinidad)._ + +We think better of Russian patriotism. + + * * * * * + + "Four or five had been landed at Ramsgate. + It was a comparatively fine, peaceful morning. + People were resting on the promenade + enjoying the sea, and the fresh air anglers of + both sexes were calmly fishing from the pier." + +_Glasgow Herald._ + +A hardy race, these South Coast fresh-air anglers. Our idea of November +sport with the rod is sniggling for goldfish in the conservatory. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: THE EAGLE COMIQUE. + +KAISER (_reviving old Music-hall refrain_). "HAS ANYBODY HERE SEEN +_CALAIS_?" + + * * * * * + +Illustration: THE RULING PASSION. + +"'TEN-_SHUN_! FORM _FOURS_!" + + * * * + +ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. + +(EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.) + +_House of Commons, Wednesday, 11th November._--Both Houses met for what +will be last Session of ever-memorable Parliament. Usual ceremony at +State Opening by KING, but atmosphere distinctly different from that +familiar on such occasions. No crowd talking and gesticulating in Lobby +before SPEAKER takes the Chair. That done, Benches seemed strangely +empty. In Commons, as in Lords, most men wore mourning, the gloom a +little lightened here and there by khaki uniform. Whilst LEADER OF +OPPOSITION and PRIME MINISTER spoke Members sat silently attentive. Only +now and then subdued cheer indicated approval of a statement or a +sentiment. There was sign neither of depression nor elation. The +country, fitly represented within these four walls, has undertaken a +great task, its performance making heavy demand of blood and money. At +whatever cost mean to see it through. Meanwhile are grimly silent. + +In course of brief proceedings curious instance forthcoming of +prevalence of martial spirit even in unexpected quarters. Did not +witness it myself, being at the moment engaged in showing a constituent +the House of Lords at historic moment when, in absence of LEADER OF +CONSERVATIVE PARTY, GEORGE CURZON rose temporarily to assume functions +he will surely inherit. Story told me by the MEMBER FOR SARK, whom I +find a (more or less) trustworthy recorder. + +Seems that two new Members were in attendance prepared to take oath and +their seat. In accordance with custom they were ranged at the Bar +awaiting SPEAKER'S summons. Observing one of them between his +introducers, SPEAKER stiffly drew himself up to full height, and called +out in ringing tones-- + +"'Ten-_shun_! Form _Fours_!" + +House stared in amazement. Nothing disconcerts Mr. LOWTHER. Recognizing +slip, he quietly ignored it; made fresh start. + +"Order! Order! Members desiring to take their seats will please come to +the Table." + +Thereupon PRESIDENT OF BOARD OF AGRICULTURE, assisted by Mr. BURT, the +revered Father of the House, affably conducted towards the Table his +parent, Sir WALTER RUNCIMAN, newly elected Member for Hartlepool. Having +seen him duly sign roll of Parliament he stood him tea on the Terrace, +made him free of the smoking-room, and invited him to partake to-morrow +night of famous House shilling dinner. + +These filial amenities pleasantly vary the austerity of Parliamentary +life. + +_Business done._--Parliament reassembled. Address in reply to Speech +from the Throne moved in both Houses. + +_House of Lords, Thursday._--A new-comer to Ministerial Bench. It is +LORD FISHER OF KILVERSTONE, commonly and affectionately known as "Jack." +Three years ago, fatal age limit being reached, Admiralty regretfully +but compulsorily dropped the Pilot. Now, three years older as the +almanack counts, actually as young as ever, the Pilot is picked up +again. His appearance at the helm greeted with hearty cheer resounding +from shore to shore. + + * * * + +Illustration: "THE PILOT IS PICKED UP AGAIN." + +[LORD FISHER COMES ABOARD.] + + * * * + +Everyone knows that present condition of Navy, making it dominant on all +seas, is mainly due to him. Recognized as fitting thing that he should +be placed in charge of weapon that with patient endeavour, supreme +skill, unerring foresight he had forged. Never yet in time of war have +these Islands been in such safe keeping. With K. K. at the War Office +and JACK FISHER at the Admiralty British householder may sleep in his +bed o' nights unafraid. + +By another happy concatenation of circumstance Admiralty is represented +in both Houses. With WINSOME WINSTON in the Commons and JACK FISHER in +the Lords, the Navy will have a good show. Only doubt is whether FIRST +SEA LORD will think it worth while to devote to Parliamentary duties the +measure of time exacted from FIRST LORD OF ADMIRALTY. Essentially a man +of action, he has little patience with custom of talking round a matter. +Nevertheless well to know that, if occasion serve, he can make a speech +far beyond average in respect of power and originality. Discovery made +when, six or seven years ago, he fluttered the decorous dovecotes of the +Royal Academy by delivering at its annual banquet a memorable speech on +condition and prospects of Navy. + +Unlikely, too, that JACK FISHER will take part in perfunctory +performances, as when the House, meeting at 4.15, sits twiddling its +noble thumbs till 4.30, the hour on stroke of which public business +commences. There being none, or not any that occupies more than five +minutes, they straight-way adjourn. But, if serious debate on Naval +affairs arises, FIRST SEA LORD may be counted upon to be at his post. + +_Business done_:--Address agreed to. House adjourned till Monday. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: A PROMISING SLEUTH-PUP. + +_Nurse._ "I WONDER IF THAT MAN'S A GERMAN SPY?" + +_Young Briton._ "OH, NO, NURSE! HE CAN'T BE. HE HASN'T GOT A GUN!" + + * * * * * +A DEBT OF HONOUR. + + [The author would be very proud if his lines might bring in any + subscriptions to the Belgian Relief Fund. Cheques, payable to + "Belgian Relief Fund," should be sent to the Belgian Minister, 15 + West Halkin Street, S. W.] + + Old England's dark o' nights and short + Of 'buses; still she's much the sort + Of place we always used to know. + There's women lonely--hid away, + But mills at work and kids at play, + And docks alive with come and go. + + But Belgium's homes is blasted down; + Her shops is ash-heaps, town by town; + There's harvests soaked and full of dead; + There's Prussians prowling after loot + And choosing who they'd better shoot; + There's kids gone lost; there's fights for bread. + + It's thanks to that there strip of sea, + And what floats on it, you and me + And things we love aren't going shares + In German culture. They'd 'a' tried + To spare us some, but we're this side. + It's so arranged--no fault of theirs. + + Them Belgians had the chance to shirk, + And watch, instead of do, the work; + But no! They chose a bigger thing + And blocked the bully; gave us breath + To get our coats off. Sure as death + They're Men--a King of Men for King. + + Don't think they're beat with what they've got, + And begging pennies, 'cos they're not. + It's this--their job is good and done; + They're fighting-pals; they're hungry, cold; + We owe for blood that's more than gold-- + A debt of honour, or we've none. + + They've stood for us; for them we'll stand + Right through; and so we'll lend a hand + Until the foe's account is quit. + That happy day is working through; + But, meanwhiles, it's for me and you-- + Well, dash it, pass along your bit. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: "WHY, JACOB, WE THOUGHT A STURDY CHAP LIKE YOU WOULD +HAVE ENLISTED. THERE'S NOT A SOUL GONE FROM THE VILLAGE." + +"BAIN'T THERE, THEN? THEY'VE GOT VOWER O' MAISTER'S 'ORSES!" + + * * * * * + +A TRAGIC MISTAKE AT POTSDAM. + +(_In the manner of the Spy Books._) + +At about half-past ten this morning I took my little black bag and +walked to the Palace. Presenting my pass, I was about to enter by the +side door reserved for civilians when I felt a heavy blow on my shoulder +and, turning, beheld an officer. Forbidding me to apologise he led me +into the palace by another door, and, placing me in a small room and +enjoining strict silence upon me, he left me alone. This was so +different from the procedure adopted on former occasions that I took +stock of my surroundings. The room was obviously a waiting-room, +containing as it did a pianola, a gramophone and a photograph album of +German generals. I was aroused from my slumbers about two and a-half +hours later and beheld before me an elderly bespectacled officer. I knew +him at once from the picture postcards as Bluteisen, head of the secret +service. He examined me minutely, omitting, however, to look into my +little black bag, which clearly escaped his notice. I began to explain, +but he ordered silence and beckoned me to follow. He led me up three +flights of stairs, along a corridor, down four flights, and so on for +about three-quarters of an hour, his idea, I suppose, being completely +to mystify me. At length we arrived at a door deep under-ground, upon +which Bluteisen knocked mysteriously. Receiving no answer he turned to +me and said, "Push." I leaned hard upon the door, fell suddenly forward +and stepped briskly into the room. + +We were in total darkness save for a circle of green light at the +further end of the apartment. In this circle was a desk, at which was +seated a man writing. One glance at him and I trembled with excitement. +_I was in the Presence._ + +For fully thirty minutes he kept me standing. Nothing was heard but an +occasional graunch, graunch, as he devoured the end of his pen. At last +he spoke. "Number?" he said. + +I was about to stammer an explanation, but Bluteisen cut me short with a +warning look, saluted and said, "Three nine double nine." + +"How long have you been here?" the Personage asked. + +"About three hours," I replied. + +He seemed pleased. Then he gave me a paper. "Read that," he said. + +I read it. My hair, usually complacent, rose with fear and astonishment. +What I read was this:--"You will blow up the British Albert Memorial at +your earliest convenience. Telegraph when completed, if still alive." + +"Have you got it?" he asked. I could only nod. He then held the paper in +the flame of a candle till he scorched his finger and thumb. + +"You will never see that again," he said. And I never did. Then he +thrust his face at me. "You will succeed?" he snapped. "Sire," I +ventured, my head swimming with apprehension, "I--I humbly apologise, +but I--I have never yet blown up anything." + +"What!" he shrieked, giving to his moustaches an upward direction, +"what! you are Number three nine double nine, from the Ammunition +section, are you not?" + +"No, Sire," I replied, "I'm sorry, but I'm not in any section at all." + +There was a terrible silence. With one eye he annihilated me, with the +other he detained Bluteisen, who was sneaking off into the darkness. +Then in a fury he hissed, "What are you? What are you doing here?" + +With choking voice I blurted out the simple truth. "Sire," I said, "I +have the honour to inform you that I am here to tune the Imperial +piano." + +I understand that I am to be shot at dawn to-morrow. So, thank heaven, +is Bluteisen. + + * * * * * + +THE DOCTHOR'S WAR SPEECH. + +Martin Cassidy told it to me. He was there, and he saw the boys form +fours when they marched to the station the next day. There were +seventeen of them, and he said he'd never forget it. + +"'Twas the Docthor's war speech that did ut," said Martin. "He had thim +all in Micky's shebeen--sure they'd have been there annyhow--and the +Docthor had volunteeerd himself; why not? + +"Yes, the women and childer were admitted. Wouldn't they be wantin' to +know the way of it? Av coorse. + +"You'd not keep them out annyway. 'Tis the whole of Ballymurky that was +there that night. + +"'Twas an o-ration the Docthor gave thim. Ye could have heard a pin +drop. Isn't it mesilf that would be away there now, if they'd let me? +Didn't Patsy Doolan have to sit on me head to keep me from gettin' into +the thrain with thim? + +"'Sure the KING knows ye've been drawin' the ould-age pension this two +years,' sez he. 'Won't he have it down in his note-book?' sez he; 'and +you wanten to pass for thirty. Gwan,' sez he." + +Old Martin applied a piece of glowing turf to his pipe and sucked +audibly before continuing. + +"Don't I remimber ivery wurrd the Docthor shpoke," said Martin +slowly--"och, the way he had with him. + +"'The KAISER is it?' sez he. 'What would ye be askin' for betther?' sez +he. ''Tis this way and that way wid the KAISER,' sez he, 'and he'll not +be aisy till he's wiped Ballymurky off the map, so he would. And the +GERMAN EMPEROR is as bad,' sez he. 'It's Bairrlin or Ballymurky, boys, +so it is,' sez he; 'just that. + +"'Is ut have the Germans over here in Ballymurky ye would?' sez he. +'Sure 'tis not butthermilk and praties they'd be contint with, Doolan, +me boy,' sez he; 'faith 'tis your pig they'd be afther atin. And 'tis +not you the KAISER would be decoratin' with an iron cross; 'tis more +like a lick of his shtick ye'd be afther gettin, Doolan--and the +thrubble ye've taken with the rarin' of the crayther. Och, ye could +nivver look the pig in the face again if ye shtayed.'" + +Martin subsided a while to show me Doolan's pig, which was taking the +air outside. "And that," he remarked, "is corrosive ividence of what I'm +tellin' ye." The pig grunted his compliments, and Martin continued. + +"'Wait till I tell ye what they did at Louvain,' sez the Doc. 'Whist +now, till ye hear this,' sez he. + +"'Och, 'twas black murther they did there, the villians! The currse of +CRUMMLE seize thim,' sez he. 'Arrah! hould yoursilf in, you there, +Conlan,' sez he; 'go aisy, now,' sez he; 'sure they'll do worse here. +'Tis not satisfied with Louvain they'll be, Shamus; 'tis knockin' your +cabin about your ears ye'll have them--and what will hersilf say to +that?' sez he; 'sure, 'twill be the best vintilated cabin in Ireland, so +it will.' + +"'Is ut the GERMAN EMPEROR ye would have sittin' shmokin' his pipe in +your cabin and fryin' sausages in your best pan, without so much as by +your lave, and you waitin' on him, Mrs. Murphy?' + +"'Sure, ye know it is not, Docthor dear,' sez she. + +"'Drivin up and down the street in your side-car he'd be, Patsy Burrke, +him and his ginerals, till your horse dropped dead on him, and divil a +bit he'd care. + +"'I'm lookin' at you there, Larry,' sez the Docthor. ''Tis waitin' for +Molly to say the wurrd ye are, Larry, me boy: but sure 'tis yourself +that'll say the wurrd now. Och, 'tis fallin' over herself Molly will be +to see ye in your rigimintals. + +"'Ballymurky, is ut? Arrah ye'll not know Ballymurky afther the KAISER +has done with it. Isn't it changing the name of the dear ould place that +he'll be afther? + +"'First-class he'd be thravellin', no less, with the boots of him on the +sate, and him without a ticket; and 'tis Rothenberg would be the name on +the station, bad cess to him! + +"'Rothenberg! d'ye hear that, Casey? And you a railway porther. Isn't +KITCHENER an Irishman, good luck to him, and isn't he lookin' for ye all +to go? Isn't the TSAR of Russia himself goin' to Berlin, and won't he be +lookin' for ye there, Micky? What'll he think if ye are not there to +meet him? "So Micky didn't come," he'll say; "what's come over him?" +he'll say. "Sure he's not the boy I thought he was," he'll say. Just +that. And you there, Micky, ye divil, all the time. Ye'd have the laugh +on him thin, Micky, so ye would. + +"'"Begorra!" he'll say, looking round, "sure the whole of Ballymurky's +here." And why not? Bedad 'tis not the first time that Ballymurky's been +on the spree. + +"'The KAISER is ut, boys,' sez the Docthor. 'Arrah have done with ye,' +sez he. 'Sure there won't be anny KAISER worth mintioning afther +Ballymurky's finished wid him...." + +"Be this and be that I'm thinkin' the same too," said Old Martin +Cassidy, as he relighted his pipe. + + * * * * * + +THE LIMIT OF IGNORANCE. + +(_Mr. ARNOLD BENNETT in one of his recent works speaks of having met a +Town Clerk who had never heard of H. G. WELLS._) + + As in a Midland city park + Great BENNETT latterly was walking, + He came across a live Town Clerk, + Who, as they stopped and fell a-talking, + Confessed--so truthful ARNOLD tells-- + _He'd never heard of H. G. WELLS!_ + + This ghastly ignorance, alas! + Of that renowned investigator, + Whom every age and every class + Hails as its only educator, + Is no experience isolated, + But can be promptly duplicated. + + The only Mayor I know--at least + I know by sight--a splendid creature, + Whose presence at a civic feast + Is always a conspicuous feature, + Has lately in his favourite organ + Proclaimed his ignorance of DE MORGAN. + + Again, the other day I ran + Against a friend ('twas in Long Acre), + A simple estimable man-- + He plies the trade of undertaker-- + Who filled me with dismay and awe + By asking, "Who is BERNARD SHAW?" + + My hatter, too, who ranks among + The leaders of his useful calling, + Shows in regard to FILSON YOUNG + An apathy that's quite appalling, + For this benighted, blighted hatter + Has never read _The Things that Matter_! + + Saddest of all, a Don I know, + A man of curious futile learning, + Studied JANE AUSTEN long ago + With admiration undiscerning, + Till _Mr. Bennett_, thanks to JANE, + Ousted all others from his brain. + + * * * * * + +THE OLD BULLDOG BREED. + +_The Wavecrest Hydro, Hastings._ + +_To the Editor of "Punch."_ + +Dear Sir,--I have on several previous occasions communicated to you some +instructive and illuminating examples of the extraordinary intelligence +of my dog Boanerges, but so far (doubtless owing to extreme pressure on +your space) you have not been able to publish them. + +In view of the present grave national emergency, however, I feel +confident that you will be able to find space for the latest instance. + +Boanerges is of the old bulldog breed; that is to say, he is not +precisely a bulldog, but inherits the breed from one of his +grandfathers. Superficially he presents more the appearance of a +wire-haired retriever pom, and it has been difficult to classify him at +Dog Shows. Indeed, I have claimed for him (though unsuccessfully up to +the present) a new class, viz., Pom-Poms. _The Canine Chronicle_ lent me +the weight of its editorial support, suggesting as an alternative name: +Dum-Dums, or Soft-Nosed Bullettes, but I fear me it was scarcely +dignified enough to carry weight with the authorities. + +However, all that is by the way. His heart is in the right place. No +WILHELM shall land upon Hastings soil while Boanerges guards the beach. + +To resume, it is my custom to take Boanerges with me on my weekly visit +to a local picture palace. He enjoys it; it stimulates his already keen +intelligence; and there is no charge made for dogs. He stands on my +knees with his fore-paws on the stall in front, and follows the films +with rapt attention. Occasionally he will express his approval or +disapproval by barking, but always in a thoroughly gentlemanly way. He +is critical, but not captious; laudatory, but not fulsome. He makes +allowances for the limitations of the camera. He usually cheers at what, +I believe, are technically known as "the chases," and his hearty bark of +approval is welcomed by the manager of the theatre and by the regular +patrons. Indeed, I firmly believe that Boanerges attracts extra +patronage to the Thursday matinees. He also enjoys lions and tigers, but +not crocodiles or snakes. As I have said, he is of the old bulldog +breed. + +On Thursday last I took Boanerges with me as usual. It was a dull +programme at first, being chiefly devoted to imaginative drama in a Red +Indian reservation. Boanerges growled the old bulldog growl once or +twice, and I could see that he was disappointed with the performance. + +Then came the film of topical events. A heading appeared on the screen: +"The Germans in Louvain." I could feel Boanerges stiffen all over his +wiry bristles. + +The stark ruins were shown, with Prussian soldiers on arrogant +sentry-go. Somebody, no doubt a refugee, hissed out: "_A bas les +Bosches!_" Boanerges growled a deep menace. + +Then came a picture of the main square of Louvain, with a group of +generals waiting for the march-past and the salute. The soldiers marched +towards us, victorious and triumphant, _at the goose-step_. + +That was the breaking-point. Flesh and blood could stand it no longer. +All the bulldog strain pounded in his veins. With a roar of anger such +as I have never before heard from him, Boanerges leapt from my +restraining hands and made for the picture. + +He dashed straight at the screen and through it! He devoured a whole +company of goose-stepping Prussians at, so to speak, one mouthful. + +I also, unwontedly moved, rose in my seat and shouted, "Up and at 'em!" + +Boanerges hit the boarding behind the screen, and I think that his nose, +now in bandages, is permanently damaged. Still, his brave deed echoes +through Hastings, and recruiting in the town is brisker than it has ever +been before. + +This time, Sir, I feel confident that you will not refuse Boanerges his +well-deserved place in your columns. + + Yours, etc., + ANTONY MCWHIRTER. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: _Daughter_ (_whose husband is at the front_), "OH, MOTHER, +ISN'T IT SPLENDID? HARRY'S SENT ME THIS PAPER WITH A MARKED PASSAGE +ABOUT WHAT HE'S BEEN DOING. IT SAYS, 'CAPTAIN ---- OF THE ---- +FUSILIERS, UNDER HEAVY ----, RESCUED ---- FROM THE ----.' NOW EVERYBODY +WILL KNOW HOW BRAVE HE IS!" + + * * * * * + +PARIS AGAIN. + + Big blue overcoat and breeches red as red, + And a queer quaint _kepi_ at an angle on his head; + And he sang as he was marching, and in the Tuilleries + You could meet him _en permission_ with Margot on his knee. + At the little _cafe_ tables by the dusty palms in tubs, + In the Garden of the Luxembourg, among the scented shrubs, + On the old Boul. Mich. of student days, you saw his red and blue; + Did you come to love the _fantassin, le p'tit piou-piou_? + + He has gone, gone, vanished, like a dream of yesternight; + He is out amongst the hedges where the shrapnel smoke is white; + And some of him are singing still and some of him are dead, + And blood and mud and sweat and smoke have stained his blue and red. + He is out amongst the hedges and the ditches in the rain, + But, when the _soixante-quinzes_ are hushed, just hark!--the old refrain, + "_Si tu veux faire mon bonheur, Marguerite, O Marguerite_," + Ringing clear above the rifles and the trampling of the feet! + + Ah, may _le bon Dieu_ send him back again in blue and red, + With his queer quaint _kepi_ at an angle on his head! + So the Seine shall laugh again beneath the sunlight's quick caress; + So the Meudon woods shall echo once again to "_La Jeunesse_"; + And all along the Luxembourg and in the Tuilleries, + We shall meet him _en permission_ with Margot on his knee. + + * * * * * + +UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER. + +No. VIII. + +(_From Richard Dickson, generally known as Cock-eyed Dick, Private in +the South Loamshire Light Infantry._) + +I suppose I ought to beg your Majesty's humble pardon for using a pencil +for this letter, but it's a good pencil, and, anyhow, we don't run to +ink in the trenches. I don't want to be disrespectful to your Majesty's +Highness. Fact is I'm just a bit fond of you; you're doing our chaps +such a world of good, keeping our hearts up in a manner of speaking and +making us all so angry. When your regiments come out against us, the +word goes round, and it's "Steady, boys; remember we're a contemptible +little army; let's show 'em a bit of contemptible shooting at 800 +yards," or "Fix your contemptible bayonets and go for 'em;" and I +warrant there's many a German chap out of the fighting line for good and +all just on account of that nasty word. + +There's another word, too, that some of your chaps have slung at us. +They say we're a "mercenary" lot, meaning that we took up with +soldiering just because we're paid to do it. Well, we _are_ paid a +shilling or two now and then, but don't you go and make no mistake; we +don't stick it out in the trenches, with Black Marias playing bowls with +us, and the machine-guns crackling at us and the snipers picking us off +just because of getting a few shillings, which very often we don't get +regular. We're in for this job, ah, and we're going to see it through, +too, because we think it's the right thing to do and because we wanted +to do a turn of fighting. We ain't bloodthirsty, and I'm not going to +say we shall be miserable when it's all over, but while it's going on we +like it. There's risks everywhere, even with the quietest jobs. I knew a +chap once as drove a goat-cart for children at the seaside, and one day +when the wind was strong it blew off his hat, and he got to chasing it, +and before he knew where he was he'd gone over the cliff. A careful man +he was, too, but he hadn't reckoned up that particular chance when he +put his savings into a goat and a two-wheeled cart. You can't think of +everything, even if you happen to be a Kaiser. I've heard, by the way, +that you ain't paid so badly for _your_ job of Kaisering; and old Uncle +Franky over in Austria, he rakes 'em in, too, but we don't call you a +mercenary pair, though what drove you to take up the business is more +than I can make out. + +I don't want you to go and make no mistake. You've stirred us up a bit +with all your talk, but we've got no grudge against your soldiers. We +don't _hate_ 'em. They're good fighting men, though I'm not saying that +we ain't better, and good fighting men don't hate one another. We got +one of your blokes the other day. He came on with the attack, and when +we'd beaten it off, there he was still coming on. He'd dropped his rifle +and his helmet was off, and he was groping about with his hands, and he +wasn't shouting "Hock! Hock!" but he didn't stop. We didn't loose off at +him, there was something so funny about him, and in another minute he +tumbled in right atop of us and we took him. He told us afterwards he'd +lost his spectacles and couldn't see a yard in front of him, and that +was the reason for his being so brave. He talked English, too, but in a +funny way, slow and particular and like as if he'd got a bit of suet +pudding in his mouth. Well, we soon made him snug and tidy and then we +started to pull his leg and fill him up, and he swallowed it all down. +We told him something had gone wrong with the beefsteak pie and the jam +tartlets and the orange jelly, and he'd have to satisfy himself with his +own rations; but to-morrow there'd be a prime cut of mutton and an +apple-tart; and he believed all our fairy tales and said he'd write the +story of the English army's food if ever he got home alive. He was a +learned man too, but his lost spectacles gave him a lot of trouble. The +end of it was we made quite a pet of him, and we were quite sorry when +we got relieved and took him to the rear and handed him over as a +prisoner. There wasn't any hatred about it. + + Yours, + COCK-EYED DICK. + + * * * * * + +REPATRIATION. + + An interesting alien, he charmed our hours of ease, + Being either Blue Hungarian or Purple Viennese, + And he cut a gorgeous figure in his blue (or purple) suit + As he coaxed enticing noises from (I think it was) the flute. + + If his name upon the programme ever chanced to be defined, + It was Otto Heinrich Ollendorf, or something of the kind, + But his casual conversation served surprisingly to show + That the accent of Vienna much resembled that of Bow. + + When the rumour ran that battle was a-going to begin, + He was heard to say _his_ country would inevitably win + (Had it chanced that in my presence such an insult had been said, + As he wasn't able-bodied, I'd have punched the beggar's head). + + He declined in public favour; it was rumoured he was sent + To keep watch upon our doings as he puffed his instrument, + And we said, "Eject this alien, let him soothe the savage breast + In a beer-house at Vienna or a band at Budapest." + + But the way was not so lengthy to his own, his native land; + And where British flautists whistle in a wholly British band + He performs as well as ever, and confesses to the town + (With no fear of unemployment) that his proper name is Brown. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: _Tommy_ (_reaching flooded trench lately occupied by the +enemy_). "WELL, THEY SAY THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE 'OME; BUT IT'S A BLOOMIN' +UNCOMFORTABLE PLACE TO MAKE SUCH A FUSS ABOUT LEAVIN'!" + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._) + +_Sinister Street, Vol. II._ (SECKER) is a book for which I have been +waiting impatiently this great while, and I welcomed it with eagerness. +The first volume left off, you may remember, with _Michael_ just about +to go up to Oxford. Knowing what Mr. COMPTON MACKENZIE could do with +such a theme, I have anticipated all these months that to watch his hero +at the university would be to renew my own youth. The book has appeared +now, and I am justified of my faith. I say without hesitation that the +first half of this second volume (which, by the way, to show that it is +a second volume and not a sequel, starts at page 499) is the most +complete and truest picture of modern Oxford that has been or is likely +to be written. For those who, like myself, have their most cherished +memories bound up with the life of which it treats, the actuality of the +whole thing would make criticism impossible. But as a matter of fact +these seventeen chapters seem to me to show Mr. MACKENZIE'S art at its +best. They display just that strange combination of realism and +aloofness that gives to his writing its special charm. No one has ever +(for example) reproduced more perfectly the talk of young men; and this +scattered speech, in what Mr. MACKENZIE himself might call its +infinitely fugacious quality, contrasts effectively with the deliberate, +somewhat mannered beauty of the setting. Mr. MACKENZIE is an overlord of +words, old and new, bending them to strange and unexpected uses, yet +always avoiding affectation by the sheer vitality of his strength. As +for the matter of these first chapters, one might say that nothing +whatever happens in them. They are an epic of adolescence wherein growth +is the only movement. Events are for the second half of the volume. Here +_Michael_ has come down from Oxford, and has set himself to find and +rescue by marriage the girl _Lily_, whom (you remember) he loved as a +boy, and who has since drifted into the underworld. About this part of +the story I will only say that, though the art is still there and the +same haunting melody of style, Mr. MACKENZIE has too strong a sense of +atmosphere to allow him to treat squalor in a fashion that will be +agreeable to the universe. Frankly, the over-nice will be prudent to +take leave of _Michael_ on the Oxford platform. The others, following to +the end, will agree with me that he has placed his creator definitely at +the head of the younger school of English fiction. + + * * * * * + +For me, the pleasure of travelling consists less in the sight of +museums, cathedrals, picture galleries and landscapes, than in the study +of the native man in the street and his peculiar ways. When abroad, "I +am content to note my little facts," and so is Mr. GEO. A. BIRMINGHAM; +in fact, it was he who first thought of mentioning the matter. The +reverend canon tours in the U.S.A., which is, when you come to think of +it, about the only safe area for the purpose nowadays; he observes the +manners and oddities of the Americans, whether as politicians, pressmen, +hustlers, holiday-makers, hosts, undergraduates, husbands or wives, and +remarks upon them, in _Connaught to Chicago_ (NISBET), with just that +quiet and unboisterous humour which his public has come to demand of him +as of right. His first chapter shows that he has ever in mind the +multitude of his fellow-countrymen who have, in the past, made the same +journey but for good and all. This memory leads him at times into +excessive praise of his subjects, especially the ladies, and so to +apparent disparagement of his people at home. For my part I vastly +prefer the Irish, men, women and children, in Ireland to all or any of +their relatives and friends elsewhere; for when they leave their island +their humour runs to seed and loses that detachment and delicacy which +constitute its unique charm. That Mr. BIRMINGHAM, however, was not +nearly long enough abroad to suffer this deterioration, must be patent +to all who linger over this happy book. + + * * * * * + +If Miss JESSIE POPE receives her just reward, she will soon have to put +a notice in the daily papers to the effect that she is grateful for kind +enquiries, but is unable at present to answer them. For I think that any +enterprising boy who reads _The Shy Age_ (GRANT RICHARDS) will forthwith +make it his business to find out the name of the school at which _Jack +Venables_ amused himself, and that even if unavoidable circumstances +prevent him from going there he will, at any rate, remain disgruntled +until he can place his finger upon it on the map. After reading those +tales of school and holiday life, I can only say that the school which +harboured me must have been a dull place, and that I should now like to +return there for a term at least--I doubt if I should be allowed to stay +longer--and liven things up. Miss POPE starts with one great advantage +over men who write of boys' schools, because the critics cannot say that +her work is autobiographical, and then proceed to "recognise" most of +her characters. That is the terror lurking by day and night for any man +who dares to write a school-tale. On the other hand, although Miss POPE +has fitted herself remarkably well into the skin of _Jack Venables_, who +tells these stories but is not (thank goodness) the hero of most of +them, she has not been able entirely to avoid what I must call Papal +touches. For instance, I do not believe that a boy of _Jack's_ age and +character would use the word "feasible," and a special society would +have to be started for the prevention of cruelty to any boy who ventured +to talk of his "aunties." On the whole, however, she has a fine +understanding of boy-nature, and if there are some improbabilities in +these ingenious stories, she is armed with the crushing retort that the +chief characteristic of any properly equipped boy is his improbability. + + * * * * * + +Possibly owing to some personal disinclination towards violent bodily +exertion on the part of his creator, _Father Brown_, the criminal +investigator of Mr. G. K. CHESTERTON'S fancy, is not a fellow of +panther-like physique. For him no sudden pouncing on the frayed +carpet-edge, or the broken collar-stud dyed with gore. He carries no +lens and no revolver. Flashes of psychological insight are more to him +than a meticulous examination of the window-sill. When the motive is +instantly transparent, why bother about the murderer's boots? In the +circumstances it is perhaps fortunate for the reverend sleuth that he +nearly always happens to be in either at the death or immediately after +it, instead of being summoned a day or two later when the grotesque +circumstances of the crime have baffled the panting ingenuity of +Scotland Yard. You find him now in this part of England, and now in +that, now in America, and now in Italy. He is, in fact, a hedge-priest +and has not even a cure of souls in Baker Street. But wherever he goes +with his flapping hat and his umbrella he chances on some fantasy of +guilt. Yet any pangs we may feel for the absence of the familiar +setting--the pale-faced butler in the guarded dining-room of the +country-house and the staggered minions of the local constabulary--are +assuaged by the brilliant narrative manner in which _The Wisdom of +Father Brown_ (CASSELL) is set forth. Here is the paradoxical world of +Mr. CHESTERTON'S imagination described in his own verbiage and proved by +actual and grisly events. In that starry dream of a detective story +which I sometimes have, where sleuth-hounds are pattering along the +Milky Way and pursue at last the Great Bear to his den, _Father Brown_ +and _Sherlock Holmes_, the one spectacled, the other lynx-eyed, are +following the prey in leash. + + * * * * * + +Should you, among wild by-ways of Donegal or Connemara, meet a +procession composed of _Patsy McCann_ the Tinker and the Ass and _Mary_ +with _Finaun_ the Archangel, _Caeltia_ the Seraph, _Art_ the Cherub, +_Eileen ni Cooley_ (a savage lady of easy morals), _Billy the Music_, +the Seraph Cuchulain and _Brien O'Brien_, a lost soul who had a +threepenny-bit stolen on him by _Cuchulain_ that same, you would guess +there's only one living man could be behind it--to wit JAMES STEPHENS, +_Crock-of-Gold_ STEPHENS. Fantastic things indeed happen in _The +Demi-Gods_ (MACMILLAN), which is a kind of inspired nightmare, a sort of +Chestertonian inconsequence done into Gaelic, a little less violent and +with a little less malt, but even less coherent. At the risk of being +reckoned among the egregiously imperceptive I would ask Mr. STEPHENS +solemnly whether he is not in danger of letting his fancy take bit +between teeth and land him in some bog of sheer literary chaos. The most +distant of the futurists notwithstanding, there must be some rules to +the game or you don't get your work of art. When those modern wizards of +the halls set themselves to a piece of _bizarre_ juggling, say, with a +string of pearls, a dumb-bell and a rose-petal, they do toss and +catch--don't merely let everything just drop. Mr. STEPHENS will know +what I mean without caring overmuch. There's something in it all the +same. Anyway, there really are in _The Demi-Gods_ delicate shy pearls +and gleams of the authentic gold of the original _Crock_. And after all +it wasn't written for middle-aged gentlemen of the Saxon tribe. + + * * * * * + +Illustration: GERMAN SPIES TAKING LESSONS FROM CONJURER IN THE ART OF +CONCEALING PIGEONS. + + * * * * * + +Another Impending Apology. + + "The Shipton family were too well known for anything to be said in + their praise."--_Buxton Advertiser._ + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. +147, NOVEMBER 18, 1914*** + + +******* This file should be named 29072.txt or 29072.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/9/0/7/29072 + + + +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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