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diff --git a/10923-h/10923-h.htm b/10923-h/10923-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..46b7447 --- /dev/null +++ b/10923-h/10923-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1832 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153, Aug 29, 1917, by Various</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + + .footnote {font-size: 0.9em; margin-right: 10%; margin-left: 10%;} + + .side { float:right; + font-size: 75%; + width: 25%; + padding-left:10px; + border-left: dashed thin; + margin-left: 10px; + text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; + font-weight: bold; + font-style: italic;} + --> +/*]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10923 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153, Aug +29, 1917, by Various, Edited by Owen Seamen</h1> +<hr class="full" /> +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> +<h2>Vol. 153.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>August 29, 1917.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page147" id="page147"></a>[pg +147]</span> +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> +<p>Germany is a bankrupt concern, says <i>The Daily Mail</i>. A +denial is expected every hour from Herr MICHAELIS, who is Germany's +Official Deceiver.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Much sympathy is felt in Germany for Admiral VON TIRPITZ, whose +proposed cure in Switzerland is off. His medical adviser has +advised him to take a long sea voyage, but failed to couple with +the advice a few particulars on how to carry it out.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Patrons of the royal theatres in Germany who pay in gold can now +obtain two seats for the price of one. This is not the inducement +it might seem to be. The German who used to buy one ticket and +occupy two seats is almost extinct.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A chicken with four legs and four wings is reported from +Soberton. Did it come from any other place we should receive the +story with suspicion.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"New Labour troubles are brewing," declares <i>The Evening +News</i>. The chief Labour trouble, however, seems to be not +brewing.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>One sportsman, says a news item, has landed seventy-seven pounds +of bream at Wrexham. It may have been sport, but it has all the +earmarks of honest toil.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A man charged with smoking in a munitions factory told the court +he was trying to cure the toothache. A fine was imposed, the Bench +pointing out that the man was lucky not to have lost the tooth +altogether.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>As a means of preserving the memory of hero M.P.s, Mr. WINSTON +CHURCHILL suggests a name-plate on the back of the seats they had +in the House. We understand that Mr. GINNELL resolutely refuses to +have such a plate on the back of his old seat.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Honour where honour is due. A man named KITE told the Willesden +magistrate that he had joined the Royal Flying Corps, and the +magistrate refrained from being funny.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Light cars are now becoming very popular, says <i>The +Autocar</i>. We understand that they have always been preferred by +pedestrians, who realise that they make only a slight indentation +in the person as compared with the really heavy car.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Whatever else may happen," says a contemporary, "the final +decision as to Stockholm rests with the Government." Our +contemporary is far too modest. A few months ago the final decision +would have rested with the stunt Press.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Portsmouth is to have three M.P.s, we read, under the +Proportional Representation scheme, though it is not known what +Portsmouth has done to deserve this.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Something like a panic was caused in the City the other day when +news got round that no mention of Mr. WINSTON CHURCHILL appeared in +a <i>Morning Post</i> leader.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A postwoman charged at Old Street Police Court admitted that she +had swallowed a postal order and a pound Treasury note. Some women +have a remarkable objection to using the ordinary purse.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A woodworm in the timbering of Westminster Hall has been +attacked with a gas-spray by the Board of Works. The little fellow +put up a gallant fight and died bravely defending his third line +trenches against a vastly superior force.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The Vienna <i>Neue Freie Presse</i> says that so far +£18,000,000,000 has been spent on the War. But even those who +contend that it might have been more cheaply done admit that the +notice was too short to enable the belligerents to call for +tenders.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>In a Brixton tramway car the other morning Mr. LLOYD GEORGE, it +is announced, had to borrow coppers from a companion to pay his +fare. The most popular explanation is that he had spent all his +money in buying the latest editions of the evening papers.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>According to the Acton magistrate, under new instructions boys +over fourteen must pay their own fines or go to prison, parents +paying the fines for those below that age. This class legislation +is bitterly resented by some of our younger wage-earners, who +intend to insist upon their right to pay for their own +amusements.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>People living next door to a post-office where burglars blew +open the safe thought it was an air raid and went into the cellar. +A suggestion that signals, clearly distinguishable from those used +in air raids, should be used on these occasions, is under +consideration in the right quarter.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The FOOD CONTROLLER has advised the Liverpool Corporation that +vegetable marrows are not fruit. There is a growing belief among +jam manufacturers that Lord RHONDDA'S business ability has been +overrated.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href= +"images/147.png"><img width="100%" src="images/147.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>A HINT.</h3> +<i>Unsuccessful Competitor at the Allotment-holders' Show.</i> "I +AIN'T MAKING ANY COMPLAINT, MR. SMITH. BUT W'EN THE FUST PRIZE FOR +ONIONS GOES TO THE JUDGE'S BROTHER-IN-LAW AND THE FUST PRIZE FOR +MARRERS TO 'IS WIFE'S GRANDFATHER, IT MAKES YER THINK A BIT, THAT'S +ALL."</div> +<hr /> +<h3>CALLING A CAB.</h3> +<blockquote class="note"> +<p>["But how to get a cab without whistling—that is the +problem."—<i>Evening News</i>.]</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A very good plan is to purchase a camp-stool and sit down in the +Strand until a taxicab breaks down. When you are sure that the +driver is not looking step inside.</p> +<p>Taxi-drivers are human, and if caught young can be made so tame +that they will take fares by the hand.</p> +<p>An excellent plan is to make a noise like a road under repair. +But be careful that the driver does not make a noise like a cab +going over a human body.</p> +<p>The essential thing is to interest the driver in your personal +affairs. If you see a car rushing along stand in the road. When the +cab pulls up, ask the driver if he would like to see your cigarette +pictures.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page148" id="page148"></a>[pg +148]</span> +<h2>A HEAD CASE.</h2> +<p>We were discussing that much discussed question, whether it is +better to be wounded in the leg or in the arm, when young Spilbury +butted in.</p> +<p>"I don't know about legs and arms," he said, "but I know there +are certain advantages in having your head bound up." Spilbury's +own head was bound up, and we all said at once that of course the +head was much the worst place in which to be wounded.</p> +<p>"It may be," said Spilbury. "But what I said was that there are +certain advantages in having your head bound up. That's not quite +the same thing as being wounded in the head. For instance, I wasn't +wounded in the head. I was wounded in the jaw. But they can't +bandage the jaw without bandaging the head, which I have found has +certain advantages."</p> +<p>"I can't see where they come in," said Cotterell, "except so far +as personal appearance goes, of course. I won't say that that +nun-like head-dress doesn't become you. You look almost handsome in +it."</p> +<p>"It is extremely polite of you to say so," said Spilbury, "but I +was not thinking of that. I was thinking of Dulcie."</p> +<p>There was silence for a space, and then Cotterell said, "If you +do not mention her other name, you may tell us about Dulcie."</p> +<p>"I became acquainted with Dulcie" Spilbury began, "or the lady I +will call Dulcie—for that is not actually her +name—while we were quartered at a camp somewhere in England. +Friendships ripen quickly in war-time. I was signalling officer, +and perhaps I signalled to Dulcie rather more than I meant. I won't +say I was wholly blameless in the matter."</p> +<p>"I shouldn't," said I.</p> +<p>"I won't," said Spilbury. "After I went out we corresponded. But +after a little I began to see I had perhaps over-estimated my +affection for Dulcie. At the time I was wounded I had owed her a +letter for some time, I remember. When I got back to England I did +not let Dulcie know at once, but after a while she heard where I +was in hospital and came to see me. In the meantime I had met +Daphne."</p> +<p>"This is a highly discreditable story," said Cotterell. "I am +sorry I allowed you to tell it."</p> +<p>"I won't finish it, then," said Spilbury complacently.</p> +<p>"Yes, you must finish it now."</p> +<p>"Well, I didn't quite know what to do about it. I had felt when +we were somewhere in England that Dulcie brought out all that was +best in me. I found now that Daphne brought out still more."</p> +<p>"She must have been a clever girl," I said.</p> +<p>"She was," said Spilbury, "but I saw that if they both tried at +once they might bring out almost too much. I had to act quickly, +for Dulcie was already by my bedside."</p> +<p>"'Well, Reggie,'" she said.</p> +<p>"I looked at her kindly but firmly.</p> +<p>"'I think there is some mistake,' I said. 'I don't remember +having met you.' Then I pointed to my bandaged head, and added, 'I +may have forgotten. My memory isn't very good.'</p> +<p>"Well, she chatted a bit about general subjects, and then +departed. I don't mind saying I felt rather a worm. Also I wasn't +quite sure that Dulcie couldn't bring out more that was good in me +than Daphne, after all. So I thought about it a bit, and then wrote +and said I'd remembered her now, and would she come again to see +me? She wrote back and said she would, and I must congratulate her +as she was just engaged to be married. That was a rotten day, I +remember, because in the afternoon Daphne came and said that she +was engaged to be married too. A perfect epidemic. But that's +beside the point."</p> +<p>"The point was, if I remember rightly," said Cotterell, "that +it's a great advantage to have your head bandaged. Have you quite +proved it?"</p> +<p>"No," said Spilbury thoughtfully. "Now you mention it, I hardly +think I have. But if my story acts as an example and a warning I +shall be satisfied."</p> +<p>So as an example and a warning (though of what or to whom is not +too clear) I have recorded it.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>MUSICAL MURMURINGS.</h2> +<h4>(<i>By our Orchestral Expert.</i>)</h4> +<p>The full programme for the season of Promenade Concerts which +opened last Saturday is, as usual, a most interesting document, and +we are of course glad to see that our gallant Allies are so well +represented. But it is the function of the critic to criticise, and +we may be permitted to express a mild regret that our native +school, though by no means excluded, does not make so good a show +as its energy and talents would seem to warrant. Our native +composers are especially noticeable for their wide range of themes, +for the Celtic and Gaelic glamour which they infuse into their +treatment of them, and for their realistic titles. We have drawn up +a list of instrumental works which illustrate these +characteristics, but which are unfortunately conspicuous by their +absence from Sir HENRY WOOD'S scheme. As, however, it is subject to +alteration we are not without the hope that some of them may yet be +included in the list of works to be heard at the Queen's Hall in +the next six weeks.</p> +<p>SYMPHONIC VARIATIONS. "Father's lost his collar-stud." <i>Hans +Halfburn</i>.</p> +<p>KELTIC KORONACH. "Wirrasthrue." <i>Seumas +Macdthoirbwlch</i>.</p> +<p>FUNERAL MARCH OF A CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTOR. <i>Nelson +Wellington</i>.</p> +<p>SIAMESE LULLABY for Sixteen Trombones. <i>Quantock de +Banville</i>.</p> +<p>FANTASIA. "Wardour Street." <i>Yokeling Ffoulkes</i>.</p> +<p>MANX MEDITATION for Revolving Orchestra. "Laxey Wheel." +<i>Bradda Quellyn</i>.</p> +<p>OVERTURE. "Glasgow Fair." <i>Talisker McUsquebaugh</i>.</p> +<p>CAMBRIAN "SNEEZE" for Full Orchestra. <i>Taliesin Jones</i>.</p> +<p>ORCHESTRA MUSINGS ON IRISH RAILWAY STATIONS. <i>Dermod +MacCathmhaoil</i>. (<i>a</i>) Stillorgan. (<i>b</i>) Dundrum. +(<i>c</i>) Bray.</p> +<p>BUBBLINGS FROM BUTE. <i>Diarmid Dinwiddie</i>.</p> +<p>DITHYRAMBIC ODE. "The Belles of Barmouth." <i>Ivor +Jenkins</i>.</p> +<p>VALSE FANTASTIQUE. "Synthetic Rubber." <i>Marcellus +Thom</i>.</p> +<hr /> +<h3><i>CHEMIN DES DAMES</i>.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In silks and satins the ladies went</p> +<p>Where the breezes sighed and the poplars bent,</p> +<p>Taking the air of a Sunday morn</p> +<p>Midst the red of poppies and gold of corn—</p> +<p>Flowery ladies in gold brocades,</p> +<p>With negro pages and serving-maids,</p> +<p>In scarlet coach or in gilt sedan,</p> +<p>With brooch and buckle and flounce and fan,</p> +<p>Patch and powder and trailing scent,</p> +<p>Under the trees the ladies went—</p> +<p>Lovely ladies that gleamed and glowed,</p> +<p>As they took the air on the Ladies' Road.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Boom of thunder and lightning flash—</p> +<p>The torn earth rocks to the barrage crash;</p> +<p>The bullets whine and the bullets sing</p> +<p>From the mad machine-guns chattering;</p> +<p>Black smoke rolling across the mud,</p> +<p>Trenches plastered with flesh and blood—</p> +<p>The blue ranks lock with the ranks of gray,</p> +<p>Stab and stagger and sob and sway;</p> +<p>The living cringe from the shrapnel bursts,</p> +<p>The dying moan of their burning thirsts,</p> +<p>Moan and die in the gulping slough—</p> +<p>Where are the butterfly ladies now?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>PATLANDER.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"No persons were injured and no houses were bit by the +bombs."—<i>Sunday Pictorial</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But they barked horrid.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page149" id="page149"></a>[pg +149]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/149.png"><img width="100%" src="images/149.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>CORNERED.</h3> +KAISER (<i>having read Mr. GERARD'S German reminiscences</i>). "I +NEVER SAW A MORE ABOMINABLE TISSUE OF DELIBERATE TRUTHS."</div> +<!-- Page 150 is blank --> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page151" id="page151"></a>[pg +151]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/151.png"><img width="100%" src="images/151.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>A LIFE OF PLEASURE.</h3> +"MOTHER, NURSE PUT ME RIGHT INTO THE VERY COLDEST PART OF THE +SEA."</div> +<hr /> +<h2>THE BROWN CART-HORSE.</h2> +<p>"Brain-fag! That's wot we 'orses are suffering from. Ah! there's +bin a deal o' queer things 'appen since they women started on the +farm! I shan't never forget the first time one of them females come +into my stall. The roan pony, wot's got sentimental thro' being +everlasting driven in the governess-cart, sez she was a pretty +young woman. I never noticed nothing 'bout 'er 'cept the pink rose +in 'er button-'ole. I never 'eard tell of a farm 'and with a pink +rose in 'is shirt before. Maybe such carryings on is all right for +they grooms an' kerridge-'orses, but it ain't 'ardly decent for a +respectable farm 'orse. So when this 'ere woman come along I up and +'as a grab at it. D'ye think she'd 'it me? I never 'ad such a shock +in me life, not since I went backwards when the coal-cart tipped! +Lor, lumme! if she didn't catch 'old of me round the neck an' kiss +me! 'Oh, you darlin'!' she said, 'did you want me rose then, +ducky?' I'm a brown 'orse, but I tell you I blushed chestnut that +morning. 'Course the roan pony next door started giggling, and then +she 'ad to go and kiss 'im, and that settled 'is little game.</p> +<p>"Well, then she come along with the collar. I need 'ardly tell +you 'ow often she tried to fix it on the wrong way round. There I +'ad to stand with 'er shoving the blooming thing till I thought my +'ead would 'ave dropped orf. Being a female, it took 'er some time +before she thought of putting the big end of the collar up first, +but when she did I just took and put me 'ead thro' and nipped orf +'er rose. 'If that don't fetch you,' I sez, 'nothink will.' If that +woman 'ad clouted me on the 'ead then, I'd 'ave loved 'er; 'stead +o' which she calls out to 'er pal 'oo was mucking round cleaning +out the stalls with a broom-'andle, 'May!' she sez. 'Oh, do look!' +she sez, 'this 'ere dear 'orse,' she sez, ''as bin and ate my +rose!'</p> +<p>"Well, when we done all the kissing and that, she led me out of +the stall, and I promise you I was a sight! My bridle was over one +eye and my girths 'anging loose. Maybe that was my own fault; when +she started to pull in the straps 'course I blew meself out, same +as any 'orse would, just to give 'er something to pull on. 'Oh +dear!' says the female. 'Poor 'orse, this 'ere girth's too tight!' +Any'ow, when we did get to the 'ayfield she 'ad to fetch a man to +put me into the rake. Well, 'e told her 'ow to go on, and we moves +orf. That wasn't 'arf a journey! Wot with 'er pulling one way an' +pulling another, I got fair mazed. Arter a bit I stopped. ''Ave it +your own way then,' I sez. Next minute I 'eard 'er calling out like +a train whistle to the bailiff, 'oo was passing. 'Smith!' she sez, +'this pore 'orse is tired!' And Smith sez, 'Tired!' 'e sez; ''e's +lazy!' And with that 'e fetched me one. 'All right, my girl,' I +thinks; 'you wait a bit.'</p> +<p>"This 'ere field run past a railway, and when Smith 'ad gone I +seen one of the signals on the line go down. 'That's the ticket!' I +sez, and when the train come by I up and shook me 'ead. The woman +didn't say nothing, so I gives a 'op with all me feet at once. +Still she don't say nothing, and I couldn't feel 'er on the reins, +so I done a few side steps. And then she spoke, and this is wot she +sez: 'Oh!' she sez, 'please don't!' and started crying.</p> +<p>"There's no vice about me, and when she begun 'er game I stopped +mine. You'd 'ardly believe it, but that 'ere woman got down orf +that 'ere rake and she come round to my 'ead and, 'Pore darling,' +she sez, 'was you frightened of the train then?' Me! wot's 'ad me +life in the London docks till I come 'aying 'long of the War.</p> +<p>"Ah! I reckon the roan pony's right: You can't 'ave the larst +word with females!"</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"For sale—A large stone gentleman's diamond ring, set in a +solid gold band."—<i>Cork Examiner</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The National Museum should not fail to secure this remarkable +relic of the Palæolithic Age.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>From a report of Mr. HENDERSON'S speech on Stockholm:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"The Prime Minister has been in favour again. What was a virtue +in May ought of this conference once, and he may be so not to be a +crime for us in August."—<i>Daily Dispatch</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The Stockholm atmosphere appears to be fatal to clearness of +statement.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page152" id="page152"></a>[pg +152]</span> +<h2>SUAVITER IN MODO.</h2> +<p>Profound stillness reigned in the wardroom of H.M.S. +<i>Sinister</i>, broken only by the low tones of the Paymaster and +the First Lieutenant disputing over the question of proportional +representation and by the snores of the Junior Watchkeeper, +stretched inelegantly on the sofa. The rest of the occupants were +in the coma induced by all-night coaling. Into this haven of quiet +burst the ship's Doctor in a state of exaggerated despair. He +groaned and, sinking into a chair, mopped his forehead +ostentatiously. The disputants ceased their discussion and watched +him intently as though he were some performing animal.</p> +<p>"Gentlemen," said the Paymaster presently in tones of sepulchral +gloom, "the neophyte of ÆSCULAPIUS, to whose care the +inscrutable wisdom of Providence has entrusted our lives, is being +excruciatingly funny. Number One says it is belated remorse for the +gallant servants of His Majesty whom he has consigned to an +untimely grave."</p> +<p>"Poor jesting fool," said his victim, "little he knows that even +now Heaven has prepared a punishment fitted even to his crimes. I +have seen it—nay, I have spoken with it."</p> +<p>"Suppose," intervened the Commander, "that you postpone this +contest of wits and let us have your news."</p> +<p>"Certainly, Sir," acquiesced the Doctor. "It's Pay's new +assistant. He's ..." the Doctor paused in search of adequate +expression, "he's here. He is, I fancy, at this moment slapping the +skipper on the back and asking him to have a drink. He called me +'old socks.'" The doctor shuddered. "Then he said he expected this +was some mess; Naval messes were always hot stuff. He wanted to +spin me yarns of his infant excesses, but I choked him off by +telling him he ought to report to the skipper. You'll have to look +after him, Pay. That will give you some honest work for a +change."</p> +<p>It must be confessed that at lunch the newcomer justified the +Doctor's worst forebodings. Afterwards the First Lieutenant and the +Paymaster had an earnest colloquy. Then the latter sought his new +assistant; he found him gloomily turning over the pages of a +six-months-old illustrated paper.</p> +<p>"What do you think of the ship?" he asked cheerfully.</p> +<p>"Rotten slow lot," replied the A.P.; "I tried to make things hum +a bit at lunch and they all sat looking like stuffed owls."</p> +<p>"Ah, you'll find it different this evening after the Commander +has gone. Bad form to tell smoking-room yarns while he's here."</p> +<p>Meanwhile the First Lieutenant visited the Commander in his +cabin.</p> +<p>"Very well," said the latter on parting; "only mind, no +unnecessary violence."</p> +<p>"I understand, Sir. I hope it won't be necessary."</p> +<p>The Assistant Paymaster had no cause to complain of lack of +hilarity at dinner. The most trivial remark was greeted with roars +of merriment. When the KING'S health had been drunk the Commander +pleaded letters and left the ward-room. Instantly a perfect babel +arose. Everyone seemed to be asking everyone else to have a drink. +The newcomer selected a large whisky.</p> +<p>"Wilkes," said the First Lieutenant, "one large whisky, one +dozen soda, one dozen ginger-beer and two large bottles of +lime-juice."</p> +<p>"Large bottles, you blighter!" he yelled after the back of the +astonished marine who went out to fulfil this remarkable order.</p> +<p>"Now," said the Junior Watchkeeper, when all the glasses had +been filled, "I call on Number One for a song." Amid vociferous +applause the First Lieutenant, clasping a huge tumbler of +ginger-beer, rose unsteadily. Without the semblance of a note +anywhere he proceeded to bawl "A frog he would a-wooing go." A +<i>prima donna</i> at the zenith of her fame might have envied his +reception. The Junior Watchkeeper broke half the glasses in the +transports of his enthusiasm. "Come along, Doc," said the singer as +soon as he could make himself heard; "give us a yarn." With the +assistance of his neighbours the Doctor placed one foot on his +chair and the other on the table. "Say, you fellows," he said +thickly, "jolly litl' yarn—Goblylocks an' Three Bears."</p> +<p>Overcome, apparently, by tender recollections he was silent, and +fixed the walnuts with a dreamy stare.</p> +<p>"Go on, Doc!" "Goldilocks, Goldilocks." "The Doc," said the +Paymaster, "was always a devil for the girls."</p> +<p>"Pay," remonstrated the First Lieutenant sorrowfully, "that's +the third half-penny for swearing this year. You mean that the +Doctor has always evinced a marked partiality for the society of +the gentler sex."</p> +<p>Punctuated at the more exciting points with breathless +exclamations of horror and amazement from his audience, the +Doctor's rendering of the story proved an overwhelming success. As +he painted in vivid periods the scene where Goldilocks was +discovered by all three bears asleep in the little bear's bed, the +First Lieutenant broke down completely and had to be patted and +soothed into a more tranquil frame of mind before the story could +proceed. Then there was a spell of musical chairs, the First +Engineer obliging at the piano, and afterwards giving a tuneful +West-Country folk-song at the Doctor's request. The Junior +Watchkeeper, declaring his inability to remember anything, read +half a column from the "Situations Vacant" portion of <i>The +Times</i>, and amid the ensuing applause slipped quietly from the +room in obedience to an unspoken signal from the First Lieutenant. +After the Second Engineer had given an exhibition of what he +asserted to be an Eskimo tribal dance, the First Lieutenant +addressed the Assistant Paymaster.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page153" id="page153"></a>[pg +153]</span> +<p>"Now then, young fellow, it is your turn. D'you want to give us +a yarn?"</p> +<p>But the boy had learned his lesson. "I'm afraid I don't know any +yarns that would interest you, Sir," he said. "If you don't mind I +think I'll turn in."</p> +<p>The First Lieutenant smiled on him with the mature wisdom of +twenty-seven summers. "Quite right, my lad. By the way, you might +look in at the bath-room on the way to your cabin and tell the +Junior Watchkeeper that we shan't want the bath that he is filling +from the cold tap. I'm very glad we shan't."</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/152.png"><img width="100%" src="images/152.png" alt= +"" /></a>Jack (<i>who has been bowled by a ball which kept very +low</i>): "BLOOMIN' U-BOAT TACTICS!"</div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/153.png"><img width="100%" src="images/153.png" alt= +"" /></a><i>Voice from gallery (during grave-digger scene in +"Hamlet").</i> "AIN'T YER GOING TO 'AVE NO PARAPET?"</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Now is the opportunity for carrying out the recommendation of a +Select Committee in 1908 that there should be a common gallery for +men and women."—<i>The Vote</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A sort of Mixed Grille, in fact.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Wanted, Upper Housemaid of two; wages £30; 5 maids; two +ladies in family; quiet country place."—<i>Daily +Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Who said our upper classes are not feeling the War?</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Required, very small nicely Furnished House or Cottage. +Bathroom and good private girls' school within easy walk +essential."—<i>Daily Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There is nothing so invigorating as a little walk before one's +bath.</p> +<hr /> +<h2><i>SEMPER EADEM</i>.</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A prisoner, Gunner Grogan, E.,</p> +<p>To-day will be brought up to me</p> +<p class="i2">For impudence and sloth;</p> +<p><i>Reveillé</i> only made him sneer;</p> +<p>Aroused, he lipped a Bombardier</p> +<p class="i2">(And very natural—both).</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And I shall counter, with disdain,</p> +<p>His feeble efforts to explain</p> +<p class="i2">Or justify such deeds.</p> +<p>It will be funny if I fail</p> +<p>To twist young Gunner Grogan's tail,</p> +<p class="i2">That being what he needs.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I know he isn't really bad;</p> +<p>Myself, I rather like the lad.</p> +<p class="i2">(And loathe that Bombardier!)</p> +<p>Beneath his buttons—none too bright—</p> +<p>May lurk the spirit of a knight—</p> +<p class="i2">A thwarted cavalier.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>For some who fought at Creçy, too,</p> +<p>Snored on or scoffed when trumpets blew,</p> +<p class="i2">And presently were caught;</p> +<p>And when the clanking N.C.O.'s</p> +<p>Came round to prod them, I suppose</p> +<p class="i2">They up and spoke their thought.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then they were for it; up they went</p> +<p>Paraded by the Prince's tent,</p> +<p class="i2">While he, to meet the crime,</p> +<p>Recalled the nastiest words he knew,</p> +<p>And learned the worst that he could do</p> +<p class="i2">From "K.R." of the time.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And yet such criminals as those</p> +<p>Did England proud with English bows</p> +<p class="i2">As schoolboys have to read;</p> +<p>And Gunner Grogan would to-day</p> +<p>Prove every bit as stout as they</p> +<p class="i2">Should there arise the need.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But just as heroes of Romance,</p> +<p>Who dodged parades with half a chance,</p> +<p class="i2">Were strafed—and mighty hard—</p> +<p>So likewise Gunner Grogan, E.,</p> +<p>Employed in making history,</p> +<p class="i2">Will do an extra guard.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"We are informed by the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor of Bristol +that his Lordship still has a supply of famous men connected with +the great war, and will be pleased to supply them to +applicants."—<i>Evening Times and Echo (Bristol)</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Will the PRIME MINISTER please note?</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"A conference of the Ministers of departments concerned will +take place in London to arrange measures for their +execution."—<i>Daily Chronicle</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Anticipated comment from <i>The Mourning Toast</i>: "And quite +time, too."</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Lord Lawrence, once Viceroy of India, said, 'Notwithstanding +all that English people have done to benefit India, the +missionaries have done more than all other agonies +combined.'"—<i>Malay Tribune</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Missionaries in the East have a lot to put up with.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page154" id="page154"></a>[pg +154]</span> +<h2>A LETTER FROM THE FRONT</h2> +<h3>ON A PURELY DOMESTIC MATTER.</h3> +<p>MY DEAR WIFE,—Yours to hand of the 10th inst., and +contents, <i>re</i> son, noted. I observe that you are for the +moment satisfied with his progress, and that you feel yourself in a +position to be able to see your way to inform me that he is +beginning to have and express ideas of his own on all subjects. He +shows himself a fine fellow, and you have every reason to be as +happy as it is possible to be in wartime.</p> +<p>By the same post arrived the new uniform from Dover Street, +London, W. You will be glad to hear that Messrs. Blenkinson have +done us proud, managing to carry out your many suggestions without +departing from regulation. They make a fine fellow of me, neat but +not gaudy, striking in appearance without being offensive to the +eye. Once more they too have shown themselves fine fellows. We are +all fine fellows; my dear, you are positively surrounded on all +sides by fine fellows, and it would look as if, given peace, we are +all together going to be as happy as the day is long.</p> +<p>So I thought at first blush; but are we so sure? The separate +ingredients are excellent; there couldn't be a better son than +Robert or better tailors than Messrs. Blenkinson. But how will they +blend? Mind you, I'm not daring to doubt the courtesy and tact of a +single Blenkinson; but these views which son Robert is beginning to +form, where will they lead him ... and us ... and the Blenkinsons? +Again, I'm not suggesting that Robert will ever go to such lengths +in view-forming as to dare to attack such an anciently and +honourably established firm as Messrs. Blenkinson; indeed, I could +almost wish it might fall out that way, and that they and I might +continue, without intervention, upon our present terms of mutual +esteem and entire satisfaction. If things stand so well between us, +while I am but young, claiming no higher rank or standing than that +of Captain (Temp.), how much more must we flourish when I have +risen to those heights to which we know I am bound to reach in my +full maturity? Against such an alliance even the youthful and +vigorous Robert would hurl himself and his criticisms in vain. No, +I foresee a danger more subtle and formidable than that.</p> +<p>Some of the very first views that Robert forms will be on the +subject of clothes. His very desire to be perfectly dressed will +take him to Blenkinsons', and, when he has spent two hours trying +on the very latest, his desire to get me, at any rate, passably +dressed will induce him to say to Mr. Blenkinson, senior: "I say, +can't you do something to stop the governor wearing clothes like +<i>that?</i>"</p> +<p>Blenkinson, having long anticipated and dreaded this, will at +once hasten round to the back with the tape-measure; but Robert +will catch him when he comes round again and say, "I shouldn't have +believed that <i>you</i> would ever consent to make such clothes as +he insists on wearing."</p> +<p>Blenkinson perforce will smile that deferential and conciliatory +smile of his, which seems to say: "We entirely agree with you, Sir, +but it isn't for us to say so."</p> +<p>Robert, blown out with conceit, upon being tacitly corroborated +by Blenkinsons in a matter of taste, will pursue the subject +mercilessly, until his victim is forced into some definite +statement. Looking round to see that he cannot possibly be +overheard, Blenkinson, senior, will be led by his too perfect +courtesy to commit himself. "Well, Sir," he will murmur, "we have +on one or two occasions dared to hint that his cut was rather out +of date, and would he permit us to alter it in some small +particulars? But Sir Reginald" (or shall we make it "the General"?) +"prefers, quite rightly, of course, to decide these things for +himself."</p> +<p>"'Quite rightly' be blowed," Robert will retort. "We know and he +doesn't. Can't you make him understand? You can sometimes get him +to be reasonable, if you stick to him long enough."</p> +<p>Blenkinson will be quite unable to let his old and honoured +customer go entirely undefended or unexcused on so grave an issue. +"We fancy, Sir, that the General" (or shall we say "His Lordship"?) +"understands just as well as we do, Sir, but...."</p> +<p>"But what?" Robert would exclaim, a little exasperated to hear +it suggested in his presence that I understand anything.</p> +<p>Mr. Blenkinson, senior, will rub his chin, wondering very much +whether he is justified in allowing himself to go so far as to hint +at the truth in this instance. "But—er—well, Sir," will +be extracted from him at last, "we gather—er—we gather, +Sir—er'm—her Ladyship insists."</p> +<p>I see Robert's face clear and I hear him say in quite a +different tone, "Oh, I'll soon manage mother for you." And off he +trots home, and in a week or less I have to adopt his ridiculously +ugly, obviously impracticable and damnably uncomfortable +fashions—tight trousers and high collars, no doubt.</p> +<p>Yes, that's where Robert, and you, with your Robert, are leading +me, confound you both. It will be as bad as that; confound you +both.</p> +<p>"Don't speak like that, even in jest," you'll say brazenly.</p> +<p>"But damme, Mary—"</p> +<p>"And I certainly will not have my name coupled with that sort of +language, please."</p> +<p>I shall appeal to Robert to bear evidence that I am the injured +party, and not you. Robert of course will stand by you, and you, +worthless woman that you are, will sink your identity and sacrifice +your soul and stand by TIGHT TROUSERS AND HIGH COLLARS.</p> +<p>And I shall get red in the face (and at the back of the +neck).</p> +<p>And in the end I shall have to make good by taking you all out +to the most expensive dinner, theatre and supper +possible—very nice for you two, no doubt, but what about me +in those infernal trousers and collars?</p> +<p>It will right itself in the end, for I cannot believe your +reason will permanently forsake you, even for that precious nut of +a Robert. Eventually we shall prefer, unanimously you and I, to +slink about the back streets, clothed in our own ideas, rather than +promenade the fashionable parts clothed in Robert's.</p> +<p>Do you say to yourself that that supreme test, the sacrifice of +Piccadilly, Bond Street and the Park, is too much? Don't cry, +darling; it will never be as bad as that. And why? Because, +according to that incredibly stupid young man, Robert, Piccadilly, +Bond Street and the Park will then be the back streets, in which no +decent people, except out-of-date, old-fashioned fogeys like +ourselves, would ever consent to be seen. So it is really myself +who is still alone. Yours, R.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>LOVELY WOMAN.</h2> +<p>If the casual gods send inquiring strangers into my camp, let +them (the intruders) be civil, please, or at least be male. +Citizens I can at once wave away with a regretful <i>nescio +vos</i>; foot-officers are decently reserved in their thirst for +knowledge of an essentially Secret Service; but officers' +wives—</p> +<p>I was growing to like the Royal Gapshire Cyclists (H.D.), my +neighbours in the next field, until last Friday, when they +perpetrated their Grand Athletic Tournament. Quite early in the day +twos and threes of subalterns, with here and there a company +commander, dribbled across with a diffident wish to be shown round +the guns, and round we went. By the ninth tour I was wearying fast +of the cicerone act, and hoping they would not mistake my dutiful +reticence for stuffiness. They <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"page155" id="page155"></a>[pg 155]</span> had made me free of a +mess that has its points. Then, towards tea-time, She came. The +Major, who brought, introduced Her, apologised (not for bringing +Her) and withdrew. He was due to start the Three-Legged Obstacle +Relay. She, on the other hand, was <i>so</i> interested, and +<i>would</i> I, etc.? Would I not!</p> +<p>"Lovely woman!" thought I. "Fit soil for a romantic seed! +Farewell reserve and half-told truth!" I then proceeded to describe +unto her things unattempted yet in Field, Garrison, or High Angle +Ballistics. Her first question (pointing to the recoil-controlling +gear of No. 2 gun), whether <i>both</i> barrels were fired at once, +gave me a cue priceless and not to be missed. My imagination held +good for full fifteen minutes, and by the time we were ambling back +to the fence I had got on to our new sensitive electrical plant for +registering the sound, height, range, speed and direction of +hostile aircraft. The fluent ease of it intoxicated, and I was +lucky not to mar the whole by working in something crude and trite +about the pilot's name.</p> +<p>She departed, smiling radiant thanks, and I thought no more of +it until this morning, when Post Orderly handed me the following +note:—</p> +<p>"DEAR SIR,—It was too kind of you to tell me all about +your guns the other day, and it was too bad of me to let you. I +ought to have mentioned that my husband is <i>the</i> Colonel +Strokes, of the High Angle Ordnance Council. One of his favourite +remarks is that the one woman of his acquaintance who knows more +about artillery than a cow does of mathematics is</p> +<p>"Very sincerely yours,</p> +<p>"EVELYN STROKES.</p> +<p>"P.S.—Do you by any chance write?"</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/155.png"><img width="100%" src="images/155.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Recruit.</i> "EXCUSE ME, SIR, BUT HAVE THE GERMANS THE SAME +METHODS IN BAYONET-FIGHTING AS WE HAVE?"</p> +<p><i>Instructor.</i> "LET'S HOPE SO. IT'S YOUR ONLY CHANCE."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>Commercial Candour.</h3> +<p>From a company's report:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"Interim dividend on the Ordinary snares for half-year ended +July 31, 1917, at the rate of 10 per cent. per annum, less income +tax."—<i>Evening Paper.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"A twelve-year-old boy was at Aberavon on Thursday sent to a +reformatory school for five years. He was charged with stealing +5-1/2 6-5/8 Nbegetable marrows from an allotment."—<i>Western +Mail.</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is supposed that he intended to reduce them to decimals.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>CRICKET.</h3> +<p>There is no truth in the rumour that spectacular cricket is to +be resumed. It is perfectly true that a section of the public who +are devoted to watching the game and cannot understand why, because +the nations happen to be at war, this favourite summer recreation +should be denied them, have been agitating for the Government to +arrange with the War Office to release all first-class cricketers +now in the Forces, so that they may be free to play matches at +home. It is also true that the Government, having refused to do +this, subsequently, in view of the arguments urged by a deputation +of cricket enthusiasts, agreed to do so, since it has always set +its face against any pedantic rigidity of purpose. But none the +less no such matches will be played, for the simple reason that the +cricketers themselves refuse to come back until their job is +finished.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Boots.—Save nearly 50% buying Factory +direct."—<i>News of the World</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>On second thoughts we think we shall continue buying one pair at +a time.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page156" id="page156"></a>[pg +156]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/156.png"><img width="100%" src="images/156.png" alt= +"" /></a><i>Little Girl (as distinguished admiral enters).</i> "BE +QUIET, FIDO, YOU SILLY DOG—<i>THAT</i>'S NOT THE +POSTMAN."</div> +<hr /> +<h2>THE BALLAD OF JONES'S BLIGHTY.</h2> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There are some men who dwell for years</p> +<p class="i2">Within the battle's hem,</p> +<p>Almost impervious, it appears,</p> +<p class="i2">To shot or stratagem;</p> +<p>Some well-intentioned sprite contrives</p> +<p>By hook or crook to save their lives</p> +<p>(It also keeps them from their wives),</p> +<p class="i2">And Jones was one of them.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The hugest bolts of Messrs. KRUPP</p> +<p class="i2">Hissed harmless through his hair;</p> +<p>The Bosch might blow his billet up,</p> +<p class="i2">But he would be elsewhere;</p> +<p>And if with soul-destroying thud</p> +<p>A monstrous Minnie hit the mud,</p> +<p>The thing was sure to be a dud</p> +<p class="i2">If only Jones was there.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Men envied him his scatheless skin,</p> +<p class="i2">But he deplored the fact,</p> +<p>And day by day, from sheer chagrin,</p> +<p class="i2">He did some dangerous act;</p> +<p>He slew innumerable Huns,</p> +<p>He captured towns, he captured guns;</p> +<p>His friends went home with Blighty ones,</p> +<p class="i2">But he remained intact.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>We had a horse of antique shape,</p> +<p class="i2">Mild and of mellowed age,</p> +<p>And, after some unique escape,</p> +<p class="i2">Which made him mad with rage,</p> +<p>On this grave steed Jones rode away...</p> +<p>They bore him back at break of day,</p> +<p>And Jones is now with Mrs. J.—</p> +<p class="i2">The convalescent stage.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The world observed the chance was droll</p> +<p class="i2">That sent so mild a hack</p> +<p>To smite the invulnerable soul</p> +<p class="i2">Whom WILLIAM could not whack;</p> +<p>But spiteful folk remarked, of course,</p> +<p>He must have used terrific force</p> +<p>Before he got that wretched horse</p> +<p class="i2">To throw him off its back.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A.P.H.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>Another Impending Apology.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>"Many coolies of the savage tribes from the hilly places, who +have been enlisted for the labour corps, were seen passing this +town by train lately. Some had too few clothes. Our late Chief +Secretary, the Hon'ble Mr. ——, was seen among +them."—<i>Times of Assam</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"All can sympathise with Mr. —— and his teetotal +party in deploring the excesses of 'liquor' of any description, and +the vice, want and misery it brings in its course. But we cannot +for a single moment listen to their selfish and pitiful beatings, +when we know that if their methods were carried out through the +land it would people our beloved country with a virile race of +effete degenerates."—<i>Provincial Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>"Virile" is good, and should encourage the teetotalers to +proceed with their "beatings."</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<h3>German Cavalry in (and out of) Action.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>"'Polybe,' writing in the <i>Figaro</i>, estimates the German +losses at 20,000 horse de combat on the first day of the +battle."—<i>Local Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Following the Franco-German war an epidemic of smallpox raged +throughout Europe, which was not checked until Jenner's famous +vaccination discovery."—<i>Liverpool Echo</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is sad to think that JENNER's discovery, made in 1796, should +have remained dormant till after 1870.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Mr. Gerard's reminiscences have caused much perturbation in +German Court circles."—<i>Daily Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Little scraps of paper,</p> +<p class="i2">Little drops of ink</p> +<p>Make the KAISER caper</p> +<p class="i2">And the Nations think.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"A money prize offered to boys at Barcombe, Suxxes, for killing +cabbage butterflies resulted in over 4,000 insects being destroyed. +The winner, Victor King, accounted for 1,395."—<i>Liverpool +Echo</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We congratulate him on his Suxxes.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"One new thing he [Mr. HENDERSON] disclosed was that in his +pervious statement that carried the Conference to the Stockholm +vote, &c."—<i>Daily Mail</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>As "pervious," according to WEBSTER, means "capable of being +seen through," we think the printer is to be congratulated.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157"></a>[pg +157]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/157.png"><img width="100%" src="images/157.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>BREAKING IT UP.</h3> +</div> +<!-- Page 158 is blank --> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" id="page159"></a>[pg +159]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/159.png"><img width="100%" src="images/159.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Member of Committee (interviewing candidate for training for +farm work)</i>. "AND ARE YOU FOND OF ANIMALS—HORSES AND +COWS?"</p> +<p><i>Candidate</i>. "WELL, NO—NOT VERY."</p> +<p><i>Member of Committee</i>. "BUT I'M AFRAID THAT'S RATHER +NECESSARY."</p> +<p><i>Candidate (brightly resolute)</i>. "OH, BUT I SHOULD TRY NOT +TO THINK ABOUT THEM."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>AN IDEAL MEDICAL BOARD.</h2> +<h3>(<i>A Dream of the Future</i>.)</h3> +<p>I was due to go in front of the local Medical Board next +morning, and I was seeking distraction in the evening paper. +Suddenly my eye was caught by the headlines announcing the transfer +of recruiting arrangements from the Military to the Civil +authorities. This promised to be interesting.</p> +<p>All at once the room grew misty, and when the atmosphere cleared +again I found myself in the open street. Before me was a palatial +building with the words "<i>Medical Board</i>" carved on a marble +slab over the main entrance.</p> +<p>I entered, and was immediately confronted by a liveried janitor +who bowed obsequiously.</p> +<p>"I have come to be medically examined," I explained.</p> +<p>"Yes, Sir," he replied. "Will you be good enough to wait one +moment, Sir, while I settle with your taxi-driver, and then I will +take you to the waiting-room, Sir."</p> +<p>"I have no taxi," I said. "I just walked."</p> +<p>An expression of concern passed across his face.</p> +<p>"Oh, you shouldn't have done that, Sir. The Authorities don't +like it. There is a special fund for such expenses, you know, Sir. +Will you please come this way, Sir?"</p> +<p>I followed him along the corridor, and was shown into a +luxurious apartment overlooking a pleasant garden. The janitor +placed an easy chair in position for me, handed me a copy of +<i>Punch</i>, and brought me a glass of wine and some biscuits.</p> +<p>"Now, Sir, if you will give me your papers I will send them up +to the Board."</p> +<p>I handed the packet to him, and he left the room.</p> +<p>A few minutes later a message-girl entered.</p> +<p>"Are you Mr. Smith?" she inquired.</p> +<p>I confessed that I was, upon which she handed me a sealed +envelope. I opened it, and found a letter and a cheque for five +pounds. The letter ran as follows:—</p> +<p>"SIR,—The above-named Medical Board regrets its inability +to examine you to-day. As you are no doubt aware, it is contrary to +its rule to examine more than three persons in one day, and an +unusually difficult case, held over from yesterday, has upset all +its arrangements.</p> +<p>"The Board would consider it a favour if you could make it +convenient to call again to-morrow morning at the same time.</p> +<p>"The enclosed cheque is intended to compensate you for the +unnecessary trouble to which you have been put.</p> +<p>"Your obedient Servants ——"</p> +<p>Punctually at the time appointed I again entered the building, +and was met by the same janitor.</p> +<p>"The Board is quite ready for you, Sir," he said. "Will you +please ascend to the dressing-room, Sir?"</p> +<p>He committed me to the care of a lift-girl, who conveyed me to +the second storey. Here I was handed over to a smart valet, who +assisted me to undress in a comfortable little apartment replete +with every convenience.</p> +<p>Having donned a warm dressing-gown, I was conducted to the Board +Room, where I found a dozen of our <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"page160" id="page160"></a>[pg 160]</span> greatest Specialists +assembled. The President shook hands and greeted me effusively. +Then I passed in turn from one Doctor to another, each making, with +the utmost delicacy and consideration, a thorough examination of +that part of my anatomy on which he was an acknowledged expert.</p> +<p>When this was over I was invited to retire to the dressing-room +and resume my garments while the Board held a protracted +consultation on my case. On returning to the Board Room I was +provided with a seat, and the President addressed me.</p> +<p>"Well, Mr. Smith, we can find nothing constitutionally wrong +with you. But tell me, have you ever had any serious illness?"</p> +<p>I shook my head. I had always been abnormally healthy.</p> +<p>"Think carefully," he urged. "We don't want to pass you as fit +if we can help it."</p> +<p>He seemed so anxious that I felt ashamed to disappoint him.</p> +<p>"Well," I replied, "the only thing I can call to mind is that, +according to my mother, I had a severe teething rash when I was ten +months old."</p> +<p>As I uttered these words the faces of all became suddenly +grave.</p> +<p>"That is quite enough, Mr. Smith," said the President. "You are +given total exemption. You should never have been brought here at +all, but I am sure you will realise that in times of national +emergency mistakes of this nature are bound to occur. If you will +apply to the Cashier on your way out he will give you a draft for +twenty pounds, to reimburse you in some small way for the loss of +your valuable time. Good-bye!"</p> +<p>He held out his hand, but before I could grasp it a mist again +enveloped me, from which I emerged upon the dreadful facts of +life.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:65%;"><a href= +"images/160.png"><img width="100%" src="images/160.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Employer.</i> "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"</p> +<p><i>Old Operative.</i> "'AVING ME 'AIR CUT."</p> +<p><i>Employer.</i> "WHAT, IN <i>MY</i> TIME?"</p> +<p><i>Old Operative.</i> "WELL, IT GREW IN YOUR TIME."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>SONGS OF FOOD PRODUCTION</h2> +<h3>VI.</h3> +<h3>BALLAD OF THE POTATO.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Above three hundred years ago</p> +<p class="i2">To Britain's shores there came</p> +<p>An immigrant of lineage low—</p> +<p class="i2">Sol Tuberose his name.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He settled down in mean estate,</p> +<p class="i2">Despised on every side,</p> +<p>Until at last he waxéd great,</p> +<p class="i2">Grew rich and multiplied.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Now none so popular as he;</p> +<p class="i2">To every house he goes,</p> +<p>At every table he must be—</p> +<p class="i2">The great Sol Tuberose!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In time of war he proves his worth</p> +<p class="i2">He helps us everywhere;</p> +<p>There's nothing on (or in) this earth</p> +<p class="i2">That can with him compare.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Not the great LLOYD could save the land</p> +<p class="i2">Except for mighty Sol;</p> +<p>For he is Bread's twin-brother—and</p> +<p class="i2">He gives us Alcohol;</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Not such as fills the toper's tum,</p> +<p class="i2">But such as fills the shell—</p> +<p>Such as will be in days to come</p> +<p class="i2">Heat, light, and pow'r as well.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Yes, in the spacious days to come</p> +<p class="i2">We'll bless Sol Tuberose,</p> +<p>When all our motor engines hum</p> +<p class="i2">On what the farmer grows.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then cultivate him all you can,</p> +<p class="i2">With him and his stand well in;</p> +<p>There's one that is a <i>Nobleman</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">There's one <i>Sir John Llewellyn</i>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There's one that is a <i>British Queen</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">There's one a dwarf, <i>Ashleaf</i>,</p> +<p>There's one that is a plain <i>Colleen</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">There's one an <i>Arran Chief</i>.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He'll serve us if we do him well</p> +<p class="i2">(Last year he failed our foes).</p> +<p>Oh, who can all the praises tell</p> +<p class="i2">Of good Sol Tuberose!</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>W.B.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>The Revenant.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>"CAPTAIN STANLEY WILSON'S RETURN HOME.</p> +<p>"CHEERFUL AND WELL AFTER LONG INTERMENT."—<i>Yorkshire +Post</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Gentleman, 30, offers 10/- weekly, own laundry, and help with +children, refined country home. No needlework."—<i>The +Lady</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Slacker!</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Letter sent by a soldier's wife to the Army Pay +Department:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"I am sending you my marage sertificate and six children there +were seven but won died. You only sent six back her name was fanny +and was baptised on a half sheet of paper by the reverend +Thomas."</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" id="page161"></a>[pg +161]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/161.png"><img width="100%" src="images/161.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Officer (on leave).</i> "SO YOU'RE STILL ALIVE, PETER?"</p> +<p><i>Peter.</i> "YES, SIR—AN' I'M GOIN' TO SEE ANOTHER +CHRISTMAS, SIR. YOU SEE, SIR, I'VE ALWAYS NOTICED THAT WHEN I LIVE +THROUGH THE MONTH OF AUGUST I LIVE OUT THE WHOLE YEAR."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>A Centenary.</h2> +<h3>JOHN LEECH.</h3> +<h4><i>Born August 29th</i>, 1817.</h4> +<h3>I.—TO OUR GREATEST CONTRIBUTOR.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>JOHN LEECH, a hundred years ago,</p> +<p class="i2">When you were born and after,</p> +<p>There shone a sort of kindly glow</p> +<p class="i2">Of airy fun and laughter;</p> +<p>It was a sound that seemed to sing,</p> +<p class="i2">A universal humming</p> +<p>That made the echoing rafters ring</p> +<p class="i2">And so proclaimed your coming.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>It was not noted at the time:</p> +<p class="i2">I was not there to note it,</p> +<p>But now I set it down in rhyme</p> +<p class="i2">That other men may quote it</p> +<p>And still maintain the thing is true,</p> +<p class="i2">Defying Wisdom's strictures,</p> +<p>And lose all doubt by looking through</p> +<p class="i2">A book of LEECH'S pictures.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>You drew our English country-folk</p> +<p class="i2">As many others saw them—</p> +<p>The simple life, the simple joke,</p> +<p class="i2">But only you could draw them;</p> +<p>The warp and woof of country joys</p> +<p class="i2">In green and pleasant places;</p> +<p>The mischievous and merry boys,</p> +<p class="i2">The girls with shining faces.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The Squires, the Centaurs of the chase</p> +<p class="i2">And all the chase's patrons,</p> +<p>Each in his own, his ordered place;</p> +<p class="i2">The comfortable matrons—</p> +<p>These were your stuff, and these your skill</p> +<p class="i2">Consigned to future ages,</p> +<p>And caught and set them down at will</p> +<p class="i2">In Mr. Punch's pages.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Besides, you bound us to your praise</p> +<p class="i2">With many strong indentures</p> +<p>By limning Mr. Briggs, his ways</p> +<p class="i2">And countless misadventures.</p> +<p>For these and many a hundred more,</p> +<p class="i2">Far as our voice can reach, Sir,</p> +<p>We send it out from shore to shore,</p> +<p class="i2">And bless your name, JOHN LEECH, Sir.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>R.C.L.</p> +</div> +</div> +<h3>II.—HISTORIAN AND PROPHET.</h3> +<p>A hundred years ago to the very day was JOHN LEECH born. Mr. +Punch came into the world on July 17th, 1841, and was thus +twenty-four years younger. But in spite of any disparity in age the +two great men were made for each other. JOHN LEECH without Mr. +Punch would still have spread delight, for did he not illustrate +those <i>Handley Cross</i> novels which his friend THACKERAY said +he would rather have written than any of his own books? But to +think of Mr. Punch without JOHN LEECH is, as the Irishman said, +unthinkable. From the third volume, when LEECH got really into his +stride, until his lamented early death in 1864, LEECH'S genius was +at the service of his young friend: his quick perceptive kindly +eyes ever vigilant for humorous incident, his ears alert for +humorous sayings, and his hand translating all into pictorial drama +and by a sure and benign instinct seizing always upon the happiest +moment.</p> +<p>His three monumental volumes called <i>Pictures of Life and +Character</i> constitute a truer history of the English people in +the middle of the last century than any author could have composed: +history made gay with laughter, but history none the less. And this +leaves out of account altogether the artist's work as a cartoonist, +where he often exceeded the duty of the historian, and not only +recorded the course of events but actually influenced it.</p> +<p>To influence the course of events was however far from being +this simple gentleman's ambition. What he chiefly wished was to +enable others to share his own enjoyment in the fun and foibles of +a world in which it is better to be cheerful than sad, and, in the +process of passing on his amusement, to earn a sufficient +livelihood to enable him to pay his way and now and then be free to +follow the hounds.</p> +<p>All these praises he would probably wish unsaid, so modest and +unassuming was he. Let us therefore stop and merely draw attention +to the two pages of his drawings which follow, each of which shows +JOHN LEECH in the light of a prophet.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162" id="page162"></a>[pg +162]</span> +<h2>ANTICIPATIONS BY JOHN LEECH.</h2> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:70%;"><a href= +"images/162-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/162-1.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>ONE OF THE RIGHT SORT.</h3> +<p><i>Grandmamma</i>. "WHAT <i>CAN</i> YOU WANT, ARTHUR, TO GO BACK +TO SCHOOL SO PARTICULARLY ON MONDAY FOR? I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING +TO STAY WITH US TILL THE END OF THE WEEK!"</p> +<p><i>Arthur</i>. "WHY, YOU SEE, GRAN'MA—WE ARE GOING TO +ELECT OFFICERS FOR OUR RIFLE CORPS ON MONDAY, AND I DON'T LIKE TO +BE OUT OF IT!" [<i>"Punch," June 30, 1860.</i></p> +</div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:40%;"><a href= +"images/162-2.png"><img width="100%" src="images/162-2.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>OUR SPECIALS.</h3> +<i>Special's Wife</i>. "CONTRARY TO REGULATIONS, INDEED! +FIDDLESTICKS! I MUST <i>INSIST</i>, FREDERICK, UPON YOUR TAKING +THIS HOT BRANDY-AND-WATER. I SHALL BE HAVING YOU LAID UP NEXT, AND +NOT FIT FOR ANYTHING." [<i>"Punch," April 22, 1848.</i></div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/162-3.png"><img width="100%" src="images/162-3.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>CURIOUS ECHO AT A RAILWAY STATION.</h3> +<p><i>Traveller</i>. "PORTER! PORTER!"</p> +<p><i>Echo</i>. "DON'T YOU WISH YOU MAY GET HIM?" [<i>"Punch," +October 19, 1861.</i></p> +</div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/162-4.png"><img width="100%" src="images/162-4.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>THE RIGHT MEN IN THE RIGHT PLACE; VIZ., A CLUB WINDOW.</h3> +<p><i>Old General Muddle</i>. "WHAT I SAY, IS—IS—EH? +WHAT? BY JOVE! WHAT THE DOOCE SHOULD CIVILIANS KNOW ABOUT—EH? +WHAT—AHEM!—MILITARY AFFAIRS! AFFAIRS! EH?"</p> +<p><i>Colonel Splutter</i>. "HAH! THE PRESS, SIR! BY JOVE, THE +PRESS IS THE CURSE OF THE COUNTRY, AND WILL BE THE RUIN OF THE +ARMY! BY JOVE, I'D HANG ALL LITTERY MEN—HANG 'EM, SIR!" +[<i>"Punch," February 27, 1858.</i></p> +</div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:40%;"><a href= +"images/162-5.png"><img width="100%" src="images/162-5.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>WELL INTENDED, NO DOUBT.</h3> +<i>Quaker to British Lion</i>. "THERE, FRIEND! NOW LET ME PUT AWAY +THOSE DANGEROUS VANITIES!" [<i>"Punch," November 20, +1852.</i></div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:70%;"><a href= +"images/162-6.png"><img width="100%" src="images/162-6.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>A DISTRESSED AGRICULTURIST.</h3> +<p><i>Landlord</i>. "WELL, MR. SPRINGWHEAT, ACCORDING TO THE +PAPERS, THERE SEEMS TO BE A PROBABILITY OF A CESSATION OF +HOSTILITIES."</p> +<p><i>Tenant (who strongly approves of War prices)</i>. "GOODNESS, +GRACIOUS! WHY, YOU DON'T MEAN TO SAY THAT THERE'S ANY <i>DANGER OF +PEACE</i>!" [<i>"Punch," February 2, 1856.</i></p> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page163" id="page163"></a>[pg +163]</span> +<h2>ANTICIPATIONS BY JOHN LEECH.</h2> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:70%;"><a href= +"images/163-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/163-1.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>THE PARLIAMENTARY FEMALE.</h3> +<p><i>Father of the Family</i>. "COME, DEAR; WE SO SELDOM GO OUT +TOGETHER NOW—CAN'T YOU TAKE US ALL TO THE PLAY TO-NIGHT?"</p> +<p><i>Mistress of the House and M.P</i>. "HOW YOU TALK, CHARLES! +DON'T YOU SEE THAT I AM TOO BUSY? I HAVE A COMMITTEE TOMORROW +MORNING, AND I HAVE MY SPEECH ON THE GREAT CROCHET QUESTION TO +PREPARE FOR THE EVENING." [<i>"Punch's Almanack" for 1853.</i></p> +</div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:40%;"><a href= +"images/163-2.png"><img width="100%" src="images/163-2.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>AN ASTONISHING REQUEST.</h3> +<i>Fast young lady (to old gent)</i>. "HAVE YOU SUCH A THING AS A +LUCIFER ABOUT YOU, FOR I'VE LEFT MY CIGAR-LIGHTS AT HOME?" +[<i>"Punch," August 29, 1857.</i></div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/163-3.png"><img width="100%" src="images/163-3.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>NOT VERY LIKELY.</h3> +<p><i>Mistress</i>. "WELL, I'M SURE! AND PRAY WHO IS THAT?"</p> +<p><i>Cook</i>. "OH, IF YOU PLEASE, 'M, IT'S ONLY MY COUSIN WHO HAS +CALLED JUST TO SHOW ME HOW TO BOIL A POTATO." [<i>"Punch," August +31, 1850.</i></p> +</div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/163-4.png"><img width="100%" src="images/163-4.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>OUR SPECIALS.</h3> +<i>Special Constable.</i> "NOW MIND, YOU KNOW—IF I KILL YOU, +IT'S NOTHING; BUT IF YOU KILL ME, BY JINGO, IT'S MURDER." +[<i>"Punch," April 22, 1848.</i></div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:35%;"><a href= +"images/163-5.png"><img width="100%" src="images/163-5.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>A PEACE CONFERENCE.</h3> +<p><i>Flora.</i> "OH, I AM SO GLAD—DEAR HARRIET—THERE +IS A CHANCE OF PEACE—I AM MAKING THESE SLIPPERS AGAINST DEAR +ALFRED COMES BACK!"</p> +<p><i>Cousin Tom.</i> "HAH, WELL! I AIN'T QUITE SO ANXIOUS ABOUT +PEACE—FOR, YOU SEE, SINCE THOSE SOLDIER CHAPS HAVE BEEN +ABROAD, WE CIVILIANS HAVE HAD IT PRETTY MUCH OUR OWN WAY WITH THE +GURLS!" [<i>"Punch," March 22, 1856.</i></p> +</div> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:65%;"><a href= +"images/163-6.png"><img width="100%" src="images/163-6.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>HOME AMUSEMENTS.</h3> +GRAND PEACE DEMONSTRATION IN OUR NURSERY! [<i>"Punch," May 24, +1856.</i></div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page164" id="page164"></a>[pg +164]</span> +<h2>A BALLAD OF EELS.</h2> +<blockquote class="note"> +<p>["Lord Desborough has just been reminding us of the neglected +source of food supply that we have in the eels of our rivers and +ponds. He stated, 'The food value of an eel is remarkable. In food +value one pound of eels is better than a loin of beef.... The +greatest eel-breeding establishment in the world is at Comacchio, +on the Adriatic. This eel nursery is a gigantic swamp of 140 miles +in circumference. It has been in existence for centuries, and in +the sixteenth century it yielded an annual revenue of £1,200 +to the Pope.'"—<i>Liverpool Daily Post</i>.]</p> +</blockquote> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When lowering clouds refuse to lift</p> +<p class="i2">And spread depression far and wide,</p> +<p>And when the need of strenuous thrift</p> +<p class="i2">Is loudly preached on every side,</p> +<p>What boundless gratitude one feels</p> +<p class="i2">To DESBOROUGH, inspiring chief,</p> +<p>For telling us: "One pound of eels</p> +<p class="i2">Is better than a loin of beef"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Of old, Popes made eel-breeding pay</p> +<p class="i2">(At least Lord DESBOROUGH says they did),</p> +<p>And cleared <i>per annum</i> in this way</p> +<p class="i2">Twelve hundred jingling, tingling quid.</p> +<p>In fact my brain in anguish reels</p> +<p class="i2">To think we never took a leaf</p> +<p>Out of the book which taught that eels</p> +<p class="i2">Are better than prime cuts of beef.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In youth, fastidiously inclined,</p> +<p class="i2">I own with shame that I eschewed,</p> +<p>Like most of my unthinking kind,</p> +<p class="i2">This luscious and nutritious food;</p> +<p>But now that DESBOROUGH reveals</p> +<p class="i2">Its value, with profound belief</p> +<p>I sing with him: "One pound of eels</p> +<p class="i2">Is better than a loin of beef."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I chant it loudly in my bath,</p> +<p class="i2">I chant it when the sun is high,</p> +<p>And when the moon pursues her path</p> +<p class="i2">Noctambulating through the sky.</p> +<p>And when the bill of fare at meals</p> +<p class="i2">Is more than usually brief,</p> +<p>Again I sing: "One pound of eels</p> +<p class="i2">Is better than a loin of beef."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>It is a charm that never fails</p> +<p class="i2">When friends accost me in the street</p> +<p>And utter agonizing wails</p> +<p class="i2">About the price of butcher's meat.</p> +<p>"Cheer up," I tell them, "creels on creels</p> +<p class="i2">Are hastening to your relief;</p> +<p>Cheer up, my friends, one pound of eels</p> +<p class="i2">Is better than a loin of beef."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then all ye fearful folk, dismayed</p> +<p class="i2">By threatened shortage of supplies,</p> +<p>Let not your anxious hearts be swayed</p> +<p class="i2">By croakers or their dismal cries;</p> +<p>But, from Penzance to Galashiels,</p> +<p class="i2">From Abertillery to Crieff,</p> +<p>Remember that "one pound of eels</p> +<p class="i2">Is better than a loin of beef."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But these are only pleasant dreams</p> +<p class="i2">Unless, to realise our hopes,</p> +<p>Proprietors of ponds and streams</p> +<p class="i2">Re-stock them, like the early Popes.</p> +<p>Then, though we still run short of keels</p> +<p class="i2">And corn be leaner in the sheaf,</p> +<p>We shall at least have endless eels,</p> +<p class="i2">Unnumbered super-loins of beef.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2> +<h3>"BILLETED."</h3> +<p>No wonder the Royalty Management, realising how resolutely +determined the public was to have nothing to do with anything so +witty and workmanlike as <i>The Foundations</i> of Mr. GALSWORTHY, +have for their new bill declined upon the pleasantly trivial comedy +of errors and tarradiddles, <i>Billeted</i>.</p> +<div class="figright" style="width:35%;"><a href= +"images/164.png"><img width="100%" src="images/164.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>BILLETING AND COOING.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><i>(The happy ending.)</i></p> +<p><i>Captain Rymill</i> . . MR. DENNIS EADIE.</p> +<p><i>Betty Taradine</i> . . MISS IRIS HOEY.</p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<p><i>Betty Taradine</i> is billeting at her pretty manor-house a +nice vague Colonel. The Vicar's sister disapproves, because +<i>Betty</i> is a grass-widow, and <i>Penelope</i>, the +all-but-flapper, an insufficient chaperone. She expresses her +disapproval with a hardy insolence which must be rare with vicars' +sisters in these emancipated times. Naturally when you have a great +deal of palaver about <i>Betty's</i> husband having deserted her +two years ago after a serious tiff, and no word spoken or written +since, you rightly guess that the expected new Adjutant, <i>Captain +Rymill</i>, will be none other than the missing man. But you +probably don't guess that <i>Betty</i>, to spoof the Church and +keep the <i>Colonel</i>, has decided to kill her husband by faked +telegram. So you have a distinctly intriguing theme, which Miss +TENNYSON JESSE and Captain HARWOOD handle with very considerable +adroitness and embroider with many really sparkling and +laughter-compelling lines.</p> +<p>I should like to ask the pleasant authors some questions. How is +it that the infinitely susceptible Colonel who loves +<i>Penelope</i>, but is so overcome by the pseudo-sorrowing +<i>Betty</i> that he is afraid of "saying so much more than he +means," and appeals to his invaluable Adjutant for help—how +is it he survived a bachelor till fifty? And how did <i>Betty</i>, +with her abysmal ignorance of pass-book lore, manage to postpone +her financial catastrophe for two whole years? And how do they +suppose so popular and personable man as <i>Taradine</i> could come +back to England under an assumed name without a number of highly +inconvenient questions being asked? More seriously, I would ask if +they really expect us to believe in the reconciliation on so deep a +note of this nice butterfly and this callous husband, who never +intended, but for the War, to come back from his big-game shooting, +and who took no pains to arrange suitable guidance (there was a +lawyer vaguely mentioned but he seems to have been singularly +unobtrusive) for the obviously incompetent spouse whom he professes +still to love? I am afraid it will not do. The one real point of +weakness in the presentation was that Mr. EADIE could not modulate +from the key of agreeable flippancy in which the comedy as a whole +was set into that of the solemnly sentimental coda. Thus was the +artistic unity of a pleasant trifle destroyed.</p> +<p>Mr. DAWSON MILWARD'S clever careful method made the +<i>Colonel</i> a very live and plausible figure. Some of his +intimate touches were exceedingly adroit. The authors deserve a +fair share of the credit. Indeed there was throughout a suggestion +of clever characterisation conspicuously above the average of this +<i>genre</i>. <i>Penelope</i> was an excellently developed part, +rendered with unexpectedly mature skill by Miss STELLA JESSE. The +<i>Vicar</i> promised at first to be a new type, but the authors +seemed to have lost interest in him half-way, and not even Mr. +LAWRENCE HANRAY'S skill and restraint could quite save him. I rate +Mr. EADIE as an actor too high to be much amused by him in +obviously EADIE parts. "A man's reach must exceed his grasp." I +think it just to Miss HOEY to say that she seemed a little +handicapped by efforts of memory, a condition which will duly +disappear and leave her charm to assert itself. Mr. GEORGE HOWARD +was quite admirable as a Scots bank manager; Miss BLANCHE STANLEY, +a really sound combination of essential good-nature and wounded +dignity as a cook on the verge of giving notice. Miss GERTRUDE +STERROLL tackled a vicaress of the Mid-Victorian era (authors' +responsibility this) with a courage which deserves both praise and +sympathy.</p> +<p>T.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165"></a>[pg +165]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/165.png"><img width="100%" src="images/165.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>THE OPTIMIST.</h3> +"IF THIS IS THE RIGHT VILLAGE THEN WE'RE ALL RIGHT. THE +INSTRUCTIONS IS CLEAR—'GO PAST THE POST-OFFICE AND SHARP TO +THE LEFT AFORE YOU COME TO THE CHURCH.'"</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE AIRMAN.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Jack loves dreadnoughts, Peggy loves trains,</p> +<p>But I know what I love—aeroplanes.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Jack will sail the high seas if he can stick it;</p> +<p>Peggy'll be the girl in blue who asks to see your ticket;</p> +<p>But I will steer my aeroplane over London town</p> +<p>And loop the loop till Nurse cries out, "Lor', Master Jim, come +down!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Jack will be an admiral if he isn't sick;</p> +<p>Peggy'll take the tickets and punch them with a click;</p> +<p>But I will make a splendid hum up there in the blue;</p> +<p>I'll look down on London town, I'll look down on you.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Jack will hunt for U-boats and sink the beasts by scores;</p> +<p>Peggy'll have a perfect life, slamming carriage doors;</p> +<p>But I shall join the R.F.C. and Nurse herself will shout,</p> +<p>"There's Master Flight-Commander Jim has put them Huns to +rout."</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"A well-known Liverpool shipowner and philanthropist is giving +£70,000—£100 for each year of his life—to +various charitable and philanthropic +objects."—<i>Scotsman</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He might almost have lived in the time of the Patriarchs, but we +gather that he preferred the days of the profits.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Often it was impossible to detect the existence of underground +works until their occupants opened fire. At one such spot a white +hag was displayed, and when our men charily approached a burst of +fire met them."—<i>East Anglian Daily Times</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The enemy is evidently up to his old trick—taking cover +behind women.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> +<h4>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</h4> +<p>I foresee the appearance, during the next few years, of many +regimental handbooks that will record the history at this present +visibly and gloriously in the making. One such has already reached +me, a second edition of <i>A Brief History of the King's Royal +Rifle Corps</i> (WARREN), compiled and edited by Lieut.-General Sir +EDWARD HUTTON, K.C.B. It is a book to be bought and treasured by +many to whom the record of a fine and famous regiment has become in +these last years doubly precious. The moment of its appearance is +indeed excellently opportune, from the fact that, in the first +place, the K.R.R. was recruited from our brothers across the +Atlantic, the 60th Royal Americans (as they were then) having been +raised, in 1756, from the colonists in the Eastern States, with a +view to retrieving the recent disaster to General BRADDOCK'S +troops, and to provide a force that could meet the French and +Indians upon equal terms. Thus the Regiment, which its historian +modestly calls a typical unit of the British Army, is in its origin +another link between the two great English-speaking allies of +to-day. It has a record, certainly second to none, from Quebec to +Ypres—one that splendidly bears out the words, themselves +ringing like steel, of its motto, <i>Celer et Audax.</i> I should +add that all profits from the sale of the book will go to "The +Ladies' Guild of the King's Royal Rifle Corps." Friends past and +present will no doubt see to it that these profits are +considerable.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>In <i>The Immortal Gamble</i> (A. AND C. BLACK), by A.T. STEWART +and C.J. PESHALL, the Acting Commander and <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="page166" id="page166"></a>[pg 166]</span> +Chaplain of <i>H.M.S. Cornwallis</i> describe the part taken by +their ship and its gallant complement in the bombardment of +Gallipoli and the subsequent landings down to the final evacuation. +The account is clear, concise, unemotional, and uncontroversial. As +a glimpse rather than a survey of the Dardanelles campaign it +strengthens our faith in the spirit of the race without hopelessly +undermining our confidence in its intelligence. Beyond the fact +that it records deeds of brave men the book has no mission, and its +cheerful detachment might not, in the absence of sterner +chronicles, be salutary. But as long as there are enough +Commissions to publish scathing reports on this or that phase of +national ineptitude it is not the publishers' business to provide +cathartics for the fatted soul of a self-satisfied people. As the +passing of time obliterates the futilities and burnishes the +heroisms of the noblest and most forlorn adventure in the history +of the race, <i>The Immortal Gamble</i> will find a just place +among the simple chronicles of courage which the War is storing up +for the inspiration of the generations to come.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>I fancy that of late the cinema has somewhat departed from its +life-long preoccupation with the cow-boy, otherwise, I should have +little hesitation in predicting a great future on the film for +<i>Naomi of the Mountains</i> (CASSELL). For this very stirring +drama of the wilder West is so packed with what I can't resist +calling "reelism" that it is almost impossible to think of it +otherwise than in terms of the screen. It is concerned with the +wooing, by two contrasted suitors, of <i>Naomi</i>, herself more or +less a child of nature, who dwelt in the back-of-beyond with her +old, fanatic and extremely unpleasant father. But, though the +action is of the breathless type that we have come to expect from +such a setting, there is far more character and serious observation +than you would be prepared to find. Mr. CHRISTOPHER CULLEY has +drawn a real woman, and at least two human and well-observed men. I +will not give you in detail the varied course of <i>Naomi's</i> +romance, which ends in a perfect orgy of battle, with sheriffs and +shooting, redskins and revolvers—in short, all the effects +that Mr. HAWTREY not long ago so successfully illustrated on the +stage. To sum up, I should describe <i>Naomi of the Mountains</i> +as melodrama with a difference—the difference residing in its +clever character-drawing and some touches of genuine emotion which +lift it above the ordinary. And this from one to whom the Wild West +in fiction has long been a weariness is something more than tepid +praise.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Sir CHARLES WALDSTEIN, author of the thoughtful +<i>Aristodemocracy</i>, is a thinker with an internationalist mind. +But pray don't think he's not a whole-hogger about the War. In +<i>What Germany is Fighting For</i> (LONGMANS) he analyses the +Germans' statement of their war-aims and does good service by +presenting an excellent translation, with comment and epilogue, of +the famous manifesto of "The Six Associations," and the +"Independent Committee for a German Peace." It is an insolent, +humourless, immoral document. Anything like it published in England +would be laughed out of court by Englishmen. It is difficult to +keep one's temper when one reads all this nauseating stuff about +the little German lamb being threatened by the wolf, England (or +Russia or France, as best suits the current paragraph), and +Germany's fine solicitude for the freedom of the seas. It is no +disrespect to Sir CHARLES WALDSTEIN that his acute and +dispassionate comment is not so forcible an argument to hold us +unflinchingly to the essence of our task as any page of the +manifesto itself. The German, with all his craft, has an almost +unlimited capacity for giving himself away. It would seem that, +after all, humour <i>is</i> the best gift of the gods.... Our +commentator ends with an epigram to the general effect that "until +they adopt, in common with us, the ideal of the Gentleman, in +contradistinction to that of the Superman," we must continue to +strafe them in war or peace. His book constitutes an important War +document.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>If I had been compelled to nominate an author to write a book +called <i>The Gossip Shop</i> (HODDER AND STOUGHTON) I should have +selected Mrs. J.E. BUCKROSE without a moment's hesitation. So I +ought to be happy. Anything more soothing to tired nerves than the +tittle-tattle of these Wendlebury old ladies it is impossible to +imagine. And to add to the lullaby we are given an ancient +cab-horse called <i>Griselda</i>, who with a flick of her tail +seems to render the atmosphere even more calm and serene. Then +there is a love-story which, in spite of misunderstandings, is +never really perturbing, and—as a spice—a fortune +telling lady who in such respectable society is as near to being +naughty as doesn't matter. Small beer? Perhaps. But if you want to +get away from the War and rumours of it, I advise you to take a +draught of this tranquillizing potion.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:40%;"><a href= +"images/166.png"><img width="100%" src="images/166.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>OUR HISTORICAL MUSEUM.</h3> +FANCY PORTRAIT OF THE LAST BLOWER OF THE LAST WHISTLE FOR A LONDON +CAB, AUGUST 21ST, 1917.</div> +<hr /> +<p>From a Booksellers' Catalogue:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"PLUTARCH: His Life, his Parallel Lives, and his Morals. +3/6."</p> +</blockquote> +<p>So spicy a story is surely cheap at the price.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<blockquote> +<p>"The cause of the explosion is unknown, but it is assumed that +some combustible matter was among the coal."—<i>Daily +Dispatch</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is only fair to some of the coal merchants to say that they +take great pains to reduce this danger to a minimum.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<h3>The Fishes' Feast.</h3> +<blockquote> +<p>"Sugar cargoes amounting to over 40,000 tons have been put down +by mines and submarines."—<i>Daily Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Full many a cube of Sparkling Loaf agleam</p> +<p class="i2">The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;</p> +<p>Full many a sack of Crystals melts astream</p> +<p class="i2">And wastes its sweetness on the fishes there.</p> +</div> +</div> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10923 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/10923-h/images/147.png b/10923-h/images/147.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8af81ff --- /dev/null +++ b/10923-h/images/147.png diff --git a/10923-h/images/149.png b/10923-h/images/149.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1b05316 --- /dev/null +++ b/10923-h/images/149.png diff --git a/10923-h/images/151.png b/10923-h/images/151.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..53eee0b --- /dev/null +++ b/10923-h/images/151.png diff --git 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