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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. 156., March 5, 1919 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 21, 2004 [EBook #11201] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Sandra Brown and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> +<h2>Vol. 156.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<h2>March 5, 1919.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page173" id="page173"></a>[pg +173]</span> +<h2>CHARIVARIA</h2> +. +<p>"What is whisky?" asks an evening paper headline. Our memory is +not what is was, but we have certainly seen the name somewhere.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"Bitter," says the <i>Kölnische Zeitung</i>, "is the taste +of defeat." A reference, presumably, to the thirty thousand tons of +American bacon sold to Germany by the Allies.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"The Octopus," said the Lord Mayor of DUBLIN in his inaugural +address, "is showing its fangs." Meanwhile Cardinal GIBBONS is busy +twisting the Lion's tentacles.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>The owner of a mule found wandering at Walton-on-Thames is being +advertised for. "Trooper," writing from Mesopotamia, says that if +it had a portion of khaki breeching and a stirrup in its mouth it +is probably the brute which slipped out of his hands about six +months ago.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>With regard to the man who was seen struggling in the river last +week, the report that his house was immediately taken by a +passer-by is untrue. The man who pushed him in had got there +first.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>So much controversy has been caused by DE VALERA'S escape from +prison that there is some idea of getting him to go back and do it +again.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>It is reported that just before his escape DE VALERA had been +greatly affected by the account of some labour strike. He is +supposed to have come out in sympathy.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>There are now, it is announced, thirty-six prices at which +bottled beer may be sold. It is only fair to our readers to state +that the price it used to be is not included in the thirty-six.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A Servant Girls' Trade Union has been formed. So far there is no +suggestion of interfering with the mistresses' evening out.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Mr. Punch has already called attention to the statement that is +costs the nation a guinea every time a question is asked in +Parliament. The only difference between Westminster and the haunts +of the General Practitioner is that in the latter case (1) you pay +out of your own pocket, and (2) your tongue is protruded instead of +being kept in the cheek.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Burglars are very superstitious, says a press-gossip. For +example the appearance of a policeman while a burglar is drilling a +safe is considered distinctly unlucky.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>"The pores of the ordinary individual," says a, weekly paper, +"would reach nearly forty miles if placed end to end." We hope that +nothing of the kind will be attempted, as the traffic difficulties +are bad enough already.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A Thames bargee is reported to have sworn at a policeman for +eleven minutes without stopping. We understand that there is talk +of having the oration set to music.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Considerable damage has been caused in the Isle of Wight by +rats. A description of the offenders has been furnished to the +police.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>In order to cope with the traffic problem the L.G.O. Company +have placed one hundred additional omnibuses on the London streets. +This is such an admirable solution of a serious difficulty that +people are wondering what member of the Government first suggested +it.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Despite the fact that his wife has attempted to shoot him eleven +times a Detroit architect declares that he will never leave her. He +appears to be one of those men who can never take a hint.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Mr. F.M.B. FISHER reports that in New Zealand some convicts +recently went on hunger-strike because a band played outside the +prison. It seems that their ground of complaint was that this was +not included in the sentence.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>A correspondent writing to <i>The Daily News</i> points out that +the reign of Satan has been cut short by eighty thousand years, and +that the end of the world is at hand. Several people in search of +flats are now wondering whether it is worth while after all.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>Mr. SEAN T.O. KELLY, the Sinn Fein M.P., has handed M. +CLEMENCEAU a copy of the "Declaration of Independence of Ireland." +Other means have also been employed to entertain and amuse the +distinguished invalid during his enforced rest.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>We understand that a West-End lady has just been appointed +mistress to a young parlourmaid.</p> +<hr class="short" /> +<p>We hear that the soldier who, after being demobilised, at once +returned to barracks in order to say a few suitable words to his +late sergeant-major, was put off on being told that he would have +to take his turn in the queue.</p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/173.png"><img width="100%" src="images/173.png" alt= +"" /></a>"NO, MADAM. <i>NINE GUINEAS</i>—NOT +NINE-AND-NINEPENCE."</div> +<hr /> +<h4>The Pre-war Habit.</h4> +<blockquote> +<p>"Clerk (male) quick and accurate at figures; one used to wages +preferred."—<i>Daily Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"The engine, which is based on the principle of the turbine, is +designed to produce 30,000 revolutions a minute."—<i>Daily +Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Bolshevists please note.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Commander Ramsay and the Princess themselves had a private +survey of their new possessions yesterday before the guests +appeared, and report has it warmly congratulated one another on the +interest and beauty of most of the things, and the unusual +percentage of unimaginative and ugly offerings."</p> +<p><i>Daily Sketch</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Although the statement is somewhat ambiguous, we feel sure that +the writer meant well.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page174" id="page174"></a>[pg +174]</span> +<h3>THE TONIC OF MARCH</h3> +. +<center><i>(With acknowledgments to the author).</i></center> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Month of the Winds (especially the East)</p> +<p class="i2">That staunch the young year's floods by dyke and +dam,</p> +<p>Who enter like a lion, that great beast,</p> +<p class="i2">And make your egress like a woolly lamb;</p> +<p>Who come, as Mars full-armed for battle's shocks,</p> +<p class="i2">From lethargy of Winter's sloth to wean us,</p> +<p>Then melt (about the vernal equinox),</p> +<p class="i2">As he did in the softer arms of Venus;—</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>O Month, before your final moon is set,</p> +<p class="i2">Much may have happened—anything, in fact;</p> +<p>More than in any March that I have met</p> +<p class="i2">(Last year excepted) fearful nerves are racked;</p> +<p>Anarchy does with Russia what it likes;</p> +<p class="i2">Paris is put conundrums very knotty;</p> +<p>And here in England, with its talk of strikes,</p> +<p class="i2">Men, like your own March hares, seem going dotty.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Blow, then, with all your gales and clear our skies!</p> +<p class="i2">We did not win that War the other day</p> +<p>To please the Huns or gladden TROTSKY'S eyes</p> +<p class="i2">By fighting, kin with kin, this futile way;</p> +<p>Blow—not too hard, of course—I should not care</p> +<p class="i2">To inconvenience Mr. WILSON on his voyage—</p> +<p>But just enough to clean the germy air</p> +<p class="i2">And usher in the universal Joy-Age.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>O.S.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>GOOD-BYE TO THE AUXILIARY PATROL.</h3> +<h4>II.—THE SHIP'S COMPANY.</h4> +<p>Demobilisation in the Navy, whatever it may be in the Army, is a +simple affair. You are first sent for by the Master-at-Arms, who +glares, thrusts papers into your trembling hand and ejects you +violently in the direction of the Demobilising Office. Here they +regard you curiously, stifle a yawn, languidly inspect your papers +and send you to the Paymaster, who, after wandering disconsolately +round the Pay Office, exclaiming pathetically, "I say, hasn't +<i>anyone</i> seen that Mixed Muster book? It must be +<i>somewhere</i>, you know," returns you without thanks to the +D.O., where they tell you to call again in three days' time. On +returning you are provided with a P.I.O. and numerous necessary +papers, requested to sign a few dozen forms, overwhelmed with an +unexpected <i>largesse</i> of pay and sent forth on that +twenty-eight days' leave from which no traveller returns. There's +nothing in it at all; the whole thing only lasts four days. They do +it by a system, I believe.</p> +<p>As we assembled on board for the last time, awaiting our railway +warrants, there were some moving spectacles. The Mate and the +Second-Engineer were bidding each other affectionate and tearful +farewells behind the winch. "You won't quite forget me, Bill, will +yer?" I heard the Second exclaim brokenly, but the only reply was a +strangled sob. The Steward, seated on his kit-bag, was murmuring a +snatch of song that asserted the rather personal fact that "our +gel's a big plump lass." He is an oyster-dredger in civil life and +is eagerly looking forward to experiencing once more the delicate +thrills and excitement of this hazardous sport. Jones, our +Signaller, who recently wrote a poem which opened with the +lines,</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"I for one will be surprised</p> +<p>When we are demobilised,"</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>was struggling painfully to insert a pair of boots into a +recalcitrant kit-bag, and exhibited an expression of dogged +determination rather than the astonishment he had predicted. The +Trimmer was heard complaining mournfully that when he left the +Patrol Office for the last time they never said good-bye. He seemed +to feel this keenly.</p> +<p>All of us were more or less excited, all as it were on tip-toe +with expectancy, like school-boys on breaking-up morning. All, did +I say? No, there was one member of the crew who sat supremely +indifferent to the prevailing atmosphere of emotion, gazing calmly +before him with his solitary lacklustre eye. The Silent Menace, the +ship's dog, betrayed none of our childlike sentiment. +Demobilisation was nothing to him—he was too old a campaigner +to let a little matter like that agitate his habitual reserve. To +us the recent period of hostilities had been "The War," the only +war in which we had ever been privileged to fight; but to him it +was just one of the numberless affrays of an adventurous life, and, +judging by the worn condition of his ears and the veteran scars +that tattooed his tail, some of the previous ones had had their +share of frightfulness. And to-morrow, no doubt, he will try the +game again.</p> +<p>It was the Third Hand who suddenly propounded the unsolvable +question: "Who's goin' to keep that there Menace?"</p> +<p>There was an almost universal chorus of "Me!" I say "almost +universal" because Jones, who is R.N.V.R. and educated, probably +said, "I," and the Chief Engineer was lighting his pipe and merely +succeeded in blowing the match out.</p> +<p>"You can't all have him," said the Third Hand, "so I think I'll +take him along with me. I knows a bit about dawgs."</p> +<p>There was instant and clamant disapproval, each one of us urging +an unquestionable claim to the guardianship of the orphan Menace. +The Steward said he was the only one with the ghost of a right to +the dog; had it not always been the Menace's custom to help him +wash up the plates and dishes? A Deck Hand, however, protested that +as he had eaten one of his mittens the Silent Menace was already in +part his property. The Mate and the Second-Engineer nearly came to +blows about it.</p> +<p>The question was still unsettled when the warrants arrived. As +time was short it was finally decided that whomsoever he should +follow was to be adjudged his future owner. We climbed ashore and +spread out fanwise, looking back and uttering those noises best +calculated to incline the unyielding heart of the Menace towards +us. He himself rose from the deck and strolled on to the wharf, +where he stood coolly regarding us. Without emotion his Cyclopean +orb directed its gaze from one to another till, midway between the +Third Hand and the Second-Engineer, it was observed to irradiate a +sudden and unaccustomed luminosity.</p> +<p>"Come along then, Menace," wheedled the Second.</p> +<p>"Yoicks, old dawg!" exclaimed the Third Hand, patting his knee +encouragingly.</p> +<p>But they had misinterpreted their Menace, for in the middle +distance, on a pile of timber directly behind the expectant twain, +had appeared the sleek person of a sandy cat which proved to be the +attraction. For an instant the Menace stood motionless, his spine +bristling and his tail growing stiff; then with a short sharp bark +he sprang forward like an arrow from a bow in the direction of the +feline objective. We saw a streak of yellow as she fled for safety +and life; a cloud of dust, and the Menace and his quarry +disappeared from view. Faintly from afar floated an eager yelp, +telling that the chase was still in full cry.</p> +<p>"Well, sink me," said the Second-Engineer, "that settles +it."</p> +<p>There were trains to be caught, and so, slowly and sadly, we +turned away.</p> +<p>Thus did the Silent Menace, with the rest of his shipmates, bid +good-bye to the Auxiliary Patrol.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page175" id="page175"></a>[pg +175]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/175.png"><img width="100%" src="images/175.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>A HOME FROM HOME.</h3> +<p>PRESIDENT WILSON (<i>quitting America in his +Fourteen-League-of-Nations Boots</i>). "IT'S TIME I WAS GETTING +BACK TO A HEMISPHERE WHERE I REALLY <i>AM</i> APPRECIATED."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page176" id="page176"></a>[pg +176]</span> +<h2>THE ROAD TO THE RHINE.</h2> +<h4>A LITTLE LOOT.</h4> +<p>It was at the time when men still imagined that to be a pivotal +man in some way enhanced their chances of being demobilised that an +abnormal wave of acquisitiveness passed over us. Before it passed, +I regret to say, it <i>hovered</i>, chiefly on account of the +prospect of a speedy return home and the desire to take back some +kind of trophy to satisfy the still small voice of inquiry +concerning papa and the Great War.</p> +<p>The very first day after we had arrived in the most unimportant +village imaginable (our usual luck), Roley, the fattest subaltern +on record, lurched into the room and told us of the discovery of a +wonderful trainload of abandoned Bosch material, Being a Regular +soldier, acquisitiveness runs through his whole being, of course, +and he gave us a most glowing account of the wonders to be found. +"Full of things," he cried, "coal, Bosch beds, field-guns and +souvenirs—hundreds of 'em."</p> +<p>I know no rabbit that could have pricked up his ears quicker +than did the pivotal men at the sound of that magic word. "Hail, +Roley!" we cried; "we who are about to be demobilised salute +you!"</p> +<p>That evening a select conclave of super-scroungers met with +great solemnity. Beds for the men and coal for all—certainly, +and <i>then</i> we would start collecting. By the morrow each man +slept in luxury, while subalterns from other companies came in to +warm themselves by our roaring fires. Not till then did we feel +justified in turning our thoughts to the furnishing of the baronial +hall at home.</p> +<p>Some day, we pivotal men are still ready to believe, when +demobilisation is nearly complete we shall return to our bowler +hats and civic respectability, but meantime, let me tell you, +respectable elderly subalterns <i>enjoy</i> things like clambering +over a forbidden Bosch train in search of loot. When we had climbed +to the end of the trucks and were thoroughly dirty, we found we had +done very badly. The souvenirs were there all right, but no matter +how interesting and desirable it may be, you simply cannot pack up +a field-gun and send it home—the tail part does stick out +so.</p> +<p>Chardenal and I had picked up the best thing we could find, +brass cartridge cases (about three feet high) of a 5·9 gun, +and some shorter eight-inch affairs. It was hard work. I carried +four of the former and Chardenal carried two of each, and we looked +as if we had come to mend a main drain. Not having been in the Army +long enough to have lost all sense of shame, Chardenal began by +trying to hide his cases under his British warm. His biggest effort +at concealment was made when passing the sentry of the Brigade +Headquarters' guard, and the noise he made doing it brought the +whole guard out. However, being sentries, they took very little +notice of what we did, except that the N.C.O. in charge certainly +did pick up one of the dropped cases and hand it to Chardenal. This +was after I had tried to help him and we had dropped the whole +lot.</p> +<p>After this Chardenal gave up all idea of concealment and tried +to express by his carriage that he accepted no responsibility +whatever for the souvenirs. He didn't want the things, not he! They +were <i>there</i>, certainly, and—well, yes, he was carrying +them, but <i>why</i> he was carrying them (here he would have +shrugged his shoulders if he could) he really couldn't tell you; it +was a matter of absolute indifference to him, anyway. +Histrionically I have no doubt it was a great piece of work, but +the only possible inference anybody could have drawn was that he +might have been carrying them to oblige me—which I +resented.</p> +<p>Heavens, how our arms ached, for it was over two miles to the +billet! A collision of milk-trains could hardly have made more +noise than we did as we clashed and clanged down the main street. +Of course we met everybody we knew. People we hadn't seen for +years, people we didn't like, people who didn't like us—all +seemed to have been paraded especially for the occasion.</p> +<p>We got home in the end, and it was a great triumph. The only +unenthusiastic person was Mr. Brown, my batman, who surveyed the +things in silence, betokening that he knew quite well he would be +called upon to sew them up in sacking and label them "Officer's +Spare Kit, c/o Cox and Co." Then he looked sadly at my soiled tunic +and my British warm and asked if I had carried them far.</p> +<p>"Over two miles," I replied proudly. "Pity," he said; "there's a +whole dump of them at the bottom of the garden here."</p> +<p>There the matter might have ended if the fat Roley had not +lurched up again the next day with a steel box containing a +dial-sight off a field-gun. The dial-sight was a complicated affair +of prisms and lenses which probably cost the Bosch about sixty +pounds, and we felt a little sick at having overlooked such a +find.</p> +<p>"Awful job I had too," he went on. "Some fellows were seen +yesterday taking stuff away and they've put a sentry on the +train."</p> +<p>"Serve them right," we said.</p> +<p>Next day we returned to the trucks to try again. The sentry was +engaged in a little conversation, and whilst Chardenal took his +photograph (ostensibly for <i>The Daily Snap</i> as "Sentry +Guarding a Train") I slipped behind the trucks, opened a couple of +lids in the tails of some field-guns, picked out two cases of +sights and hurried off. Chardenal joined me later and, concealing +our swag under our British warms, we walked as quickly as we could +until the Brigadier stopped and had a little chat with us about +things in general. And there we had to stand for a quarter of an +hour on a freezing afternoon with two fingers holding the box and +the other fingers holding the coat down to effect better +concealment. Chardenal was in so much pain and wore such an +expression of agonized innocence that the Brigadier wanted him to +come into headquarters until he felt better.</p> +<p>"Well, what have you got?" asked <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"page177" id="page177"></a>[pg 177]</span> Carfax, another +candidate for demobilisation, when we finally got back and showed +him the cases.</p> +<p>"Only two?" he cried, "and you promised <i>me</i> one!" We said +things.</p> +<p>"What lenses are they?" he asked.</p> +<p>"I don't know," said Chardenal, "but, whatever's the heaviest +kind, that's the kind we've brought."</p> +<p>And we opened the boxes and they were empty.</p> +<p>The baronial hall will remain unfurnished. I'm fed up with the +whole business.</p> +<p>L.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/176.png"><img width="100%" src="images/176.png" alt= +"" /></a><p><i>Farmer (to land-girl, who has been sent to feed the +pigs).</i> "WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT THE SWILL BACK?"</p> +<p><i>Land Girl</i>. "WELL, THEY WERE ASLEEP AND LOOKED SO +COMFY—I SIMPLY HADN'T THE HEART TO DISTURB THEM."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h4>The Language Test for V.A.D.'s.</h4> +<p>From an Official Form of Application for stripes:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"I certify that these Members have diligently attended their +duties at the Hospital, are always neat in appearance, punctual in +their habits and proficient in their cursing. I recommend they be +allowed to enter for the Blue Stripe Examination."</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<p>From the announcement of a musical service:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"Soprano Solo, 'With Verger clad'. (<i>Creation</i>), Miss +Dorothy ——,"—<i>Canadian Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Quite a new "creation."</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/177.png"><img width="100%" src="images/177.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>CASTING PEARLS.</h3> +<p><i>Philistine (who has been dragged by wife to Jazz +tea-shop).</i> "WHAT IS IT THEY'BE TRYING TO PLAY, DEAR?"</p> +<p><i>Modern Wife</i>. "OH, YOU WOULDN'T BE ANY THE +WISER.—NOTHING OUT OF 'THE BOHEMIAN GIRL.'"</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE HOUSE HISTRIONIC.</h3> +<p>The enterprise of Mr. C.B. COCHRAN, who announces that the +oak-parlour used in his play at the St. Martin's Theatre will be +sold by auction at the conclusion of the run, has not unnaturally +provoked a certain liveliness in architectural circles. Should +advertisements of houses for sale ever reappear in the newspapers, +it is thought likely that they may include something like +this:—</p> +<p>Desirable Family Mansion of unique interest, suit dramatist +seeking congenial associations. Exceptionally fine dining-hall, as +used in the supper scene in <i>Macbeth</i>, and equipped with +convenient <i>Banquo</i> sliding-panel to kitchen. The latter +apartment deserves the epithet Baronial, being transported direct +from the successful pantomime, <i>Puss-in-Boots</i>, and capable of +accommodating a ballet of two hundred cooks. The elegantly +proportioned drawing-room (to which a fourth wall has been since +added) was the subject of special mention in several leading +newspapers after the production of <i>Epigrams</i> at the Niobe +Theatre; while each of the twelve bedrooms represents some recent +triumph in the Problematical Drama. An attractive feature is the +fitting of an artificial sunlight attachment to the outside of each +window; while every room is provided with one or more +telephones.</p> +<p>Snug Bachelor Flat, direct from the phenomenally successful +farce, <i>Peers and Pyjamas</i>, at the Plenipotentiaries Theatre. +The fine central living-room contains sixteen doors, opening into +bedrooms, kitchen, coal-cellar, etc. May be as conveniently entered +by the window as by the doors. All the latter work upon the +well-known dramatic hinge, by which as soon as one shuts another +opens. Unlimited facilities for hide-and-seek. Exceptional +opportunity for active tenant.</p> +<hr /> +<p>From <i>The Mistress of Court Regina</i>, by Mr. CHARLES +GARVICE:—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>"He kissed her, taking his cigarette out of his mouth to do +so."</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This courteous consideration is invariably shown in the best +circles.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page178" id="page178"></a>[pg +178]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/178.png"><img width="100%" src="images/178.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Geordie</i>. "WELL, AH'M BLOWED! THEY'M NAMED YON PLAACE +AFTER T'OWD DOOG-OUT ON T' SOMME!"</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE SUBALTERNS' PARADISE.</h3> +<p>I met Bilsden and congratulated him on being in "civvies."</p> +<p>"What are you going to do now?" I asked. "Back to the old +firm?"</p> +<p>"No," said Bilsden gravely; "when a man has acquired the power +of leading men he's thrown away in an accountant's office, +especially as the junior member of the staff. I see no prospect in +England. I have offered to take charge of large departments of +English firms, and be responsible for entire supervision, but they +fail to recognise what the capacity for leadership gained in the +army will do. I'm off to Ceylon—tea-planting. Just to control +big gangs of coolies and see that they work. It will be child's +play for me. Lovely climate; elephants. An absolutely ideal +job."</p> +<p>It seemed to me on that foggy frosty day, that to lie in a +hammock in the shade, with the temperature about ninety, watching +coolies work, would be the perfect form of labour.</p> +<p>I congratulated Bilsden on having found his +<i>métier</i>.</p> +<p>Half-an-hour later I met Parkinson, another second-loot who had +just shed his pip.</p> +<p>"Well, what are you going to do now?" I asked.</p> +<p>"I'm a bit dubious," he said.</p> +<p>"Try tea-planting in Ceylon," I suggested. "Elephants, spicy +breezes, swing in a hammock all day watching coolies. My dear boy, +were I twenty years younger I should be inquiring about a berth on +the next steamer."</p> +<p>"Ah," said Parkinson, "of course Ceylon's all right, and I've a +lot of pals going out there; but what about rubber-planting in the +Malay Peninsula? They've got tigers there. That's rather a +pull."</p> +<p>I admitted the attraction of tigers to certain tastes, but not +to mine. In my case the pull, I thought, might be on the tiger's +side.</p> +<p>Since these interviews I have been going the rounds of my +military acquaintances and I find a general feeling in favour of +Ceylon or the Malay Peninsula.</p> +<p>Of course it's an excellent thing that they should take up the +white man's burden and make the coolies work, only I'm in dread +lest the overcrowding we suffer from in England may be extended to +the Orient. Will there be enough plantations, coolies and big game +to go round amongst our subalterns?</p> +<p>I can see the Government introducing several Bills—</p> +<p>(1) For the extension of the Isle of Ceylon;</p> +<p>(2) For the lengthening of the Malay Peninsula;</p> +<p>(3) For the importation of five million coolies, estimated at +the rate of five hundred coolies each, to give employment to ten +thousand second-loots;</p> +<p>(4) For the importation of elephants, tigers, lions, buffalo, +hippopotami, giraffes and capercailzie*.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>AT PRINTING-HOUSE SQUARE.</h3> +<blockquote class="note"> +<p>[Mr. GEOFFREY DAWSON has resigned the Editorship of <i>The +Times</i>, owing to a disagreement with Lord NORTHCLIFFE over +matters of policy, and has been succeeded by Mr. H. WICKHAM STEED, +formerly foreign editor.]</p> +</blockquote> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Once more upon the waters! Yet once more!</p> +<p>And the waves bound beneath me as a Steed</p> +<p>That knows his master."</p> +</div> +</div> +<p><i>Byron</i>, "<i>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</i>."</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page179" id="page179"></a>[pg +179]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/179.png"><img width="100%" src="images/179.png" alt= +"" /></a><i>Inspecting Officer</i>. "WHICH IS THE MOST IMPORTANT +NUT ON THIS LORRY?"<br /> +<i>Driver (ex-infantry).</i> "I AM, SIR."</div> +<hr /> +<h3>A CAREER.</h3> + +<center>(<i>The Right Man in the Right Place</i>.)</center> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10">You should see our son James!</p> +<p class="i10">You should just see our James!</p> +<p>As bright as a button, as sharp as a knife!</p> +<p>My wife says to me and I say to my wife,</p> +<p>"You'll never have seen such a son in your life</p> +<p class="i10">As our jammy son, James."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10">He is now three years old;</p> +<p class="i10">He's a good three years old;</p> +<p>When the fellow was two you could see by his brow</p> +<p>(At the age of a year, you could guess by the row)</p> +<p>That this was a coming celebrity. Now</p> +<p class="i10">He's a stout three-year-old.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10">Question: What shall he be?</p> +<p class="i10">Tell us, what shall he be?</p> +<p>Shall he follow his father and go to the Bar,</p> +<p>Where, passing his father, he's bound to go far?</p> +<p>"But one knows," says his mother,"what barristers are.</p> +<p class="i10">Something else he must be!"</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10">Do you fancy a Haig?</p> +<p class="i10">Shall our James be a Haig?</p> +<p>The War Office tell me he's late for this war,</p> +<p>Have the honour to add there won't be any more</p> +<p>Since that's what the League of the Nations is for;</p> +<p class="i10">So it's off about Haig.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10">But his mother sees light</p> +<p class="i10">(Mothers always see light).</p> +<p>"This League of the Nations we mentioned above,</p> +<p>With the motto, 'Be Quiet,' the trade-mark, a Dove,</p> +<p>Will be wanting a President, won't it, my love?"</p> +<p class="i10">Jimmy's mother sees light.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10">Yes, that could be arranged;</p> +<p class="i10">Nay, it must be arranged.</p> +<p>In the matter of years Master Jimmy would meet</p> +<p>Presidential requirements. What age can compete,</p> +<p>In avoiding the gawdy, achieving the neat,</p> +<p>With forty to fifty? Thus, forty-five be't.</p> +<p>Given forty-two years, he'll be finding his feet</p> +<p>And the Treaty of Peace should be getting complete....</p> +<p class="i10">And so that's all arranged.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p>HENRY.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"I am sorry to have to say that this statement is a +———, and if any of my readers have any doubt as +to whether I used that strong term without just reason, I invite +them to communicate with the Ministry of Shipping on the +subject."—<i>Letter in "The Observer."</i></p> +</blockquote> +<p>We respect our contemporary's discretion, but we <i>should</i> +like to know what was the "strong term".</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"The Literary Class has grown beyond all expectations, the +numbers attending the last few meetings averaging nearly 100. +Papers have been read and discussed on Dickens' Works, <i>Tess, +Tale of Two Cities</i>."</p> +<p><i>The Highway</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Flushed with success, the Literary Class is expected next to +tackle HARDY; <i>Jude the Obscure</i> and <i>The Mystery of Edwin +Drood</i> being the first objectives.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page180" id="page180"></a>[pg +180]</span> +<h3><i>NOUVELLES DE PARIS.</i></h3> +<blockquote> +<p><i>Paris, March 3rd, 1919.</i></p> +<p>DEAREST POPPY,—You know, don't you, that I write for the +Press? You <i>must</i> write, <i>ma chère</i>, if you want +to be <i>dans le mouvement</i> nowadays. It's getting to be almost +as big a craze as jazzing and is quite as exciting. It has its +difficulties, of course, but so has the jazz roll. And if you've +got a title or have been mixed up in a <i>cause +célèbre</i> you can write on anything <i>sans aucune +connaissance spéciale</i>. Camilla Blythely says she just +sends in her photo and signature and those obliging newspaper +people do the rest—which is most helpful to a busy person. +But then we can't all be as notorious as dear Camilla.</p> +<p>I hope it isn't getting just a little overdone. But I hear that +lots of papers are offering only three guineas a column now for +quite important signatures, while others actually insist on +contributors writing their own articles.</p> +<p><i>Quant à moi</i>, I'm writing up the light side of the +Peace Conference. I do those snappy pars about LLOYD GEORGE'S ties +and CLEMENCEAU'S gloves and all those little domestic touches that +people would much rather read about than such remote things as +Czecho-Slovaks and Jugo-Slavs. I did a most <i>thrilling</i> three +columns about the hats of the delegates, from the bowler of Mr. +BONAR LAW to the "coffieh" and "igal" headdress of EMIR FAISUL, the +Arab Prince. (It's always so effective if you can stick in a word +or two like that that nobody understands. You never need get them +right).</p> +<p>Talking of odd words, the latest <i>boutade</i> over here is to +find new names and epithets for our dress materials—some of +them quite weird. If you want a silk <i>tricot</i> you ask for +"<i>djersador</i>," while a coarser texture is "<i>djersacier</i>"; +"<i>mousseux</i>" now describes velvet as well as champagne; +<i>ninon</i> is known as "<i>vapoureuse"</i>; while to make one of +the newest Spring dresses you require only three-and-a-half yards +of "<i>Salomé</i>." Some of the <i>couturiers</i> in the Rue +de la Paix are issuing fashion-pronouncing handbooks, while others +have their own interpreters to assist customers.</p> +<p>The theatres over here are getting extremely—well, what +our grandparents termed "<i>risqués</i>," but it really goes +further than that. And the worst of it is my countrypeople seem to +think it's the smart thing to go to them, which they do most +indiscriminately. <i>Heureusement</i> they don't understand the +stuff. Whenever I see a most circumspect and highly proper British +matron entering one of the Boulevard theatres nowadays I think what +a mercy it is that we as a nation rely so much on pronouncing +phrase-books for acquiring foreign languages. It keeps one so +single-minded in the midst of a wicked world.</p> +<p>But, after all, propriety is a <i>question de +localité</i>. Else why do people do things here which would +badly shock us at home? <i>Par exemple</i>, dancing between the +courses of a meal is our latest <i>caprice</i> here; but I was +<i>un peu étonnée</i>, the other evening, to see the +Duchess of Mintford, at a restaurant of the most <i>chic</i>, +jazzing off the effects of the turbot with light-hearted +<i>abandon</i>.</p> +<p>Unfortunately a waiter carrying a tray darted across the track +at the very moment when she was involved in that step so +<i>embrouillant</i>, the side-roll.</p> +<p>It took quite a long time to collect, and put in their proper +order, the waiter, the contents of the tray, her Grace and all the +other jazzers who were coming up behind.</p> +<p>But, <i>après tout</i>, little comment was roused because +most of the onlookers thought the incident was just part of the +dance.</p> +<p>So long, old thing.</p> +<p><i>Bien à vous</i>,</p> +<p>ANNE.</p> +</blockquote> +<hr /> +<h3>THE TRUMP SUIT.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Those who wield Britannia's power</p> +<p>Have decreed a blissful hour,</p> +<p>When the mellow bugle-note</p> +<p>Sounds in every ship afloat,</p> +<p>And you see the forrard decks</p> +<p>Littered up with leathernecks,</p> +<p>Seamen sprawling on the hatches,</p> +<p>Darning socks and fitting patches,</p> +<p>Cleaning jumpers, sewing, smoking,</p> +<p>Writing, fighting, sleeping, joking,</p> +<p>Baiting foe and twitting friend—</p> +<p>Sailors call it "Make and Mend."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In this jolly throng each day</p> +<p>Gunner 'Erbert, R.M.A.,</p> +<p>Sat and smoked serenely bored,</p> +<p>So that I must needs record</p> +<p>When that precious hour was ended</p> +<p>He had neither made nor mended.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>'Erbert was a crumpled rose</p> +<p>In the beds of N.C.O.'s,</p> +<p>And a blot on the escutcheon</p> +<p>Which they pride themselves so much on;</p> +<p>For, in spite of threat and curse,</p> +<p>Cells and badges lost, or worse,</p> +<p>Captain's frown or sergeants' oaths,</p> +<p>'Erbert <i>wouldn't</i> mend his clothes.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In a distant Eastern land</p> +<p>Certain tribes got out of hand,</p> +<p>And, to comfort little Mary,</p> +<p>Sought to stew the missionary.</p> +<p>Our Marines were duly sent</p> +<p>To apportion chastisement,</p> +<p>And they snatched him from the larder,</p> +<p>But alas! pursuing harder</p> +<p>Than was wise in such a scrap,</p> +<p>They were landed in a trap.</p> +<p>For the wily natives got</p> +<p>All around and copped the lot,</p> +<p>Stripping off them every stitch</p> +<p>Of the clothes they stood in, which,</p> +<p>I am sure you'll all agree,</p> +<p>Was a great indignity.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Copped the lot? No, there was one</p> +<p>Absent when the deed was done.</p> +<p>'Erb, with his accustomed push,</p> +<p>Was advancing when the bush</p> +<p>Dragged the last remaining stitches</p> +<p>From the bag he called his breeches,</p> +<p>Leaving nothing but the dregs</p> +<p>Of the red stripe down his legs.</p> +<p>'Erbert paused; though not a prude,</p> +<p>He had never liked the nude.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Seated in a distant clearing.</p> +<p>He remarked the natives cheering,</p> +<p>And, directed by the din,</p> +<p>Saw the plight his mates were in.</p> +<p>When he thought the time was ripe,</p> +<p>Clad in little but his stripe</p> +<p>'Erbert charged.... The tribes in wonder</p> +<p>Promptly bolted with the plunder.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>'Erbert with averted head</p> +<p>Quickly gathered every shred</p> +<p>Of his late-lamented kit,</p> +<p>Saying, as he handed it</p> +<p>To the Major, "I infer</p> +<p>You have lost your breeches, Sir."</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>With his glasses in his hands</p> +<p>On his deck the Captain stands,</p> +<p>Watching with surprise and fear</p> +<p>His detachment reappear—</p> +<p>First the Major, garbed in dirt</p> +<p>And the tail of 'Erbert's shirt;</p> +<p>Then the Sergeant, better dressed</p> +<p>In the sleeves of 'Erbert's vest;</p> +<p>Then the rest in fragments torn</p> +<p>From the jumper he had worn.</p> +<p>Last comes 'Erbert, proud as NELSON,</p> +<p>With a smile and nothing else on.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Is it Fortune's final stroke,</p> +<p>Or the Skipper's little joke?</p> +<p>As the ladder they ascend</p> +<p>Comes the bugle "Make and Mend."</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"A flotilla of Portuguese warships is actively maintaining the +blockade between the mouth of the Volga and that of the Minho."</p> +<p><i>Daily Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The report that the Bolshevists have borrowed a "Big Bertha" and +are meditating a bombardment of Lisbon by way of reprisal is as yet +unconfirmed.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"Mr. W.A. Appleton, secretary of the Feedration of Trade Unions, +declares that since the Armistice the federation 'has lost no +opportunity of endeavouring to smash the controls that meant +continued high prices (of food)."—<i>Evening Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>More power to the "Feedration" in its self-sacrificing +campaign.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page181" id="page181"></a>[pg +181]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/181.png"><img width="100%" src="images/181.png" alt= +"THE GUEST WHO BROUGHT A BANJO" /></a> +<h3>THE GUEST WHO BROUGHT A BANJO.</h3> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page182" id="page182"></a>[pg +182]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/182.png"><img width="100%" src="images/182.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p>:"THERE'S A BIT OF A FINANCIAL CRISIS ON AT THE PRESENT MOMENT. +I BLEW INTO COX'S ON THE WAY HERE, ON THE OFF CHANCE, +BUT—NOTHING DOING!"</p> +<p>"I S'POSE YOUR OVERDRAFT BLEW YOU OUT AGAIN—WHAT?"</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<h3>THE RIGHTS OF LABOUR.</h3> +<p><i>(Extract from "The Times and Mail" of January 1st, +1925.)</i></p> +<p>A significant case was heard yesterday in the courts, when +William Blogg, bricklayer's labourer, recovered twenty-five pounds +damages from James Buskin Carruthers, artist, for injury done to +the plaintiff's eight-cylinder car through defendant's culpable +negligence in allowing himself to be run over by it.</p> +<p>Plaintiff urged that he was a labouring-man, who worked eight +hours a day. The court was at once adjourned, while restoratives +were applied to the Bench.</p> +<p>On the resumption of the proceedings it was explained that since +the passing of the Two Hours Maximum Day Bill the supply of labour +had been inadequate to meet the demands made upon it, and plaintiff +had patriotically filled four posts, at the minimum rate of fifteen +shillings an hour. It was while he was hurrying from one sphere of +activity to another that the collision occurred, resulting in +injury to the plaintiff's mud-guard and loss of valuable time.</p> +<p>Defendant, who admitted negligence, pleaded poverty and threw +himself upon the mercy of the Court.</p> +<p>The Bench, in summing up, called the jury's attention to the +fact that defendant was not a labourer, but only a professional +man; at the same time he reminded them of the impartiality of +British justice, which did not admit that there was one law for the +rich and another for the poor. Even the wealthiest labouring-man +must be protected in the exercise of his inalienable right to +work.</p> +<p>The accompanying photograph shows the plaintiff in the act of +assisting to build a wall.; He is a self-made man, having started +life as a solicitor and by sheer perseverance raised himself to the +lucrative and responsible' position of an unskilled bricklayer's +labourer.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>TO M. GEORGES CLEMENCEAU.</h3> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Strong son of France, whose words were ever lit</p> +<p>By lightning flashes of ironic wit;</p> +<p>More fond of power than of pelf or place,</p> +<p>Eternal foeman of the mean and base,</p> +<p>And always ready in a righteous cause</p> +<p>To suffer odium and contemn applause—</p> +<p>Men call you still the "tiger," but the name</p> +<p>Has long outworn the faintest hint of blame,</p> +<p>Since in your country's direst hour of need</p> +<p>You have revealed your true heroic breed;</p> +<p>A tiger—yes, to enemies and Huns,</p> +<p>But trusted, idolised, by France's sons.</p> +<p>So when of late a traitor's felon blow</p> +<p>Was like to lay you, old and ailing, low,</p> +<p>And France was sorely stricken in her Chief,</p> +<p>The wide world shared her anguish—and relief;</p> +<p>For the assassin, resolute to kill,</p> +<p>Was foiled by your indomitable will.</p> +<p>Immortal France! she cannot spare you yet,</p> +<p>Till you have paid in full your filial debt,</p> +<p>And by the great Redemption and Release</p> +<p>Stamped Victory with the final seal of Peace.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page183" id="page183"></a>[pg +183]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/183.png"><img width="100%" src="images/183.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>CINDERELLA.</h3> +[No representative of the General Public seems to have been invited +to sit on the Coal Industry Commission.]</div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page185" id="page185"></a>[pg +185]</span> +<hr /> +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> +<p><i>Monday, February 24th.</i>—The mantle of the lamented +Mr. JOSEPH KING, whose taste in <i>protégés</i> was +so remarkable, seems to have descended upon Colonel WEDGWOOD. His +request for the return to this country of LAJPAT RAI, "the Indian +patriot," aroused a storm of objection from other hon. Members, who +considered the description inapplicable to a person deported for +sedition. But it was quickly quelled by the SPEAKER with the +unanswerable assertion that "everybody calls himself a patriot in +these days."</p> +<p>Mr. RAPER sought an assurance that no "wrack"—which +appears to be a term of art in the timber trade—should be +used in the houses to be erected under the Government's new housing +scheme. If these were not to be "the unsubstantial fabric of a +vision," he implied, the official builders had better leave the +wrack behind.</p> +<p>Something is at last to be done to reduce the growing plague of +Questions. Hitherto each Member has been entitled to put down eight +Questions for oral reply on any one day. But in future no one is to +be permitted to "star" more than four Questions <i>per diem</i>. +Even that is regarded by some Members as an extravagant allowance. +Major HENNESSY, I understand, thinks "three stars" enough for any +man.</p> +<p>"The Government is not a trustee for one class, but for all," +was the leading theme of the PRIME MINISTER'S firm and tactful +speech in introducing the Coal Industry Commission Bill. He was +studiously conciliatory to the miners, but made it plain that they +could not be allowed to put a pistol at the head of the general +community.</p> +<p>The miners appear, however, to be in the mood of the little girl +who said, "I don't want to go to bed; I want to be <i>in</i> bed." +The gist of eloquent speeches delivered on their behalf by Mr. +HARTSHORN and Mr. RICHARDS was that the Government already +possessed all the relevant facts, and should give the desired +relief at once. But they mustered only 43 in the Division Lobby +against 257 for the Second Reading.</p> +<p><i>Tuesday, February 25th.</i>—Their Lordships resumed +their debate on Industrial Unrest. Lord RUSSELL attributed it +mainly to ignorance—on the part of the capitalists and the +newspapers, who, with few exceptions, never gave fair play to +Labour. He was supported to some extent by His Grace of YORK, who +declared that, after a perusal of the Labour Press and the +non-Labour Press, he could hardly believe they were dealing with +the same subject.</p> +<p>Up to almost the eleventh hour the Committee stage of the Coal +Commission Bill in the Commons was not encouraging. The Labour +representatives moved amendment after amendment, designed either to +wreck the measure or to make the Commission a mere +registration-office to approve their own cut-and-dried plans.</p> +<div class="figright" style="width:35%;"><a href= +"images/185-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/185-1.png" alt= +"" /></a><b>PERSUASIVE PURRING.<br /> +MR. BRACE.</b></div> +<p>Mr. RICHARDS moved to omit wages and hours from its purview, but +the House, brought up in the belief that <i>Hamlet</i> without the +<i>Prince of Denmark</i> is but a poor play, voted him down by 270 +to 40.</p> +<p>Then came another question-begging amendment from Mr. ADAMSON, +suggesting that the Commission's inquiries into the possibilities +of reorganising the mines should be limited to the single question +of "nationalization"—the "blessed word" of Labour just now. +This was supported in a capital maiden speech by Mr. SPOOR, an +ex-pitman, whose father and son are both in the mines, and by Mr. +CLYNES, who rather unreasonably complained that the HOME SECRETARY +made SHORTT speeches; but it shared the same fate.</p> +<p>Not till the Bill was nearly through Committee was there any +sign of <i>rapprochement</i>. Then, in response to the persuasive +purring of Mr. BRACE, who had urged that the Commission should +issue an interim report on wages and hours by March 12th, the PRIME +MINISTER declared that, after consultation with Mr. Justice SANKEY, +he was prepared to promise that the report should be ready on March +20th. A smile, extending almost to the extreme limits of his +moustache, spread over Mr. BRACE'S benevolent countenance. +Thenceforward all was peace, and the Third Reading was carried +without a division.</p> +<p><i>Wednesday, February 26th.</i>—The Lords passed the Coal +Industry Commission Bill through all its stages without a pause. +Then Lord DEVONPORT expatiated on the mistakes of the Food +Controllers with such a wealth of illustration that the LORD +CHANCELLOR, who is fond of Classical "tags," was heard to murmur, +<i>"Omnium consensu capax imperil nisi imperasset."</i></p> +<p>A Second Reading was given to the Re-election of Ministers Bill, +on the plea of the LORD CHANCELLOR that until it is passed several +of his Ministerial colleagues will be <i>nantes in gurgite +vasto</i>—or, in other words, all at sea.</p> +<p>Rumours that a new Department of Public Information was to be +set up excited much curiosity in the Commons, but only negative +replies were received. The Department, if, and when, it comes into +existence, is not to advertise the virtues of the Coalition, nor is +it to publish a newspaper of its own; though, to judge by the +leaflets, circulars and <i>communiqués</i> issued by the +existing Ministries in the course of the week, such an organ would +certainly not perish for lack of copy.</p> +<div class="figright" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/185-2.png"><img width="100%" src="images/185-2.png" alt= +"" /></a><b>MR. JOYNSON HICKS'S FAIR WARNING TO SIR ERIC +GEDDES.</b></div> +<p>The so-called Ten Minutes' Rule was originally intended for the +introduction of comparatively unimportant Bills. This after-noon +Mr. SHORTT employed it for the purpose of explaining the provisions +of one of the most revolutionary and comprehensive measures +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page186" id="page186"></a>[pg +186]</span> ever brought forward in any country. Briefly it is to +put under the control of a single Minister of Ways and +Communications our railways, our canals, our roads, and also our +supply of electricity, hitherto in the hands of hundreds of public +companies and local authorities. Only on one point did the Bill +meet with opposition. I do not know whether Mr. JOYNSON HICKS +claims any connection with Hicks's Hall, which stands in the old +road-books as the starting-point of the great highway to the North, +but he became almost lyrical in his denunciation of the proposal to +put all the roads in the country in charge of a railwayman like Sir +ERIC GEDDES. They ought, in his opinion, to be under the care of +someone "born on roads" and "trained on roads"—a sort of +super-tramp, I suppose.</p> +<p><i>Thursday, February 27th.</i>—To an appeal for an +increase in the pensions of Crimea and Mutiny veterans, to meet the +rise in the cost of living, response was made that such an increase +would be granted in the case of those not over seventy years of +age. It is not thought that the concession will cause a heavy drain +on the national resources, few of the veterans having joined up +before entering their 'teens.</p> +<p>As a retort, "Yah! German!" is, I am told, already considered +<i>vieux jeu</i> by the wits of the pavement. But Ulstermen and +Nationalists still think it effective to twit one another with +having been supplied with rifles from the arsenals of the Bosch. +They bandied charges and contradictions so vigorously this +afternoon that the SPEAKER had to intervene to put an end to these +"nonsensical bickerings."</p> +<p>The SECRETARY OP THE TREASURY scouted the suggestion that County +cricket-matches should be exempted from the entertainment tax. It +is believed that his answer was based solely upon financial +considerations, and that he must not be held to have expressed the +opinion that first-class cricket, as played by certain counties, +<i>is</i>, in point of fact, entertaining.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"German residents in South-west Africa have forwarded the +Administrator a petition for transmission to President Wilson, +claiming permission to erect a republic union with the Republic of +Germany. The petitioners claim that they not only represent a +majority of the white inhabitants, but interpret the views of the +wishes of the majority of the majority of the ahmbahmbahmbah +natives."</p> +<p><i>New Zealand Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We should like to know more of this remarkable tribe, which, +<i>inter alia</i>, seems to have evolved a new method of +proportional representation.</p> +<hr /> +<h2>THE RED WINE OF THE COUNTRY</h2> +. +<p>"Did I iver tell ye," asked ex-Sergeant O'Reilly, filling his +pipe from my tobacco-jar, "about the red wine?"</p> +<p>"I remember a story about sparkling Burgundy," I said.</p> +<p>"Och, that wouldn't be it at all. 'Twas another time +altogither."</p> +<p>"Well," I said, "tell me about the red wine."</p> +<p>"'Twas this way." O'Reilly leant back in his chair, covered his +maimed hand with a pocket-handkerchief—a curious way he +had—and looked at me with that expression of openness and +simplicity which demands confidence. "We was 'way back o' the line +at the time, at a place where ye'd expect to get a taste o' rest; +but what wid fancy attacks an' 'special coorses' (thim 's the divil +an' all!) there wasn't enough rest for an honest man to get into +mischief. Well, there was to be a grand inshpection by a tremenjus +brass-hat, one o' thim soort all over ribbons that rides wid a +shtiff back. 'Twas the mornin' before the great day whin the O.C. +comes to me all of a flutter, an' says he, 'Sergint, ye've a chanct +now to do me a good turn.'</p> +<p>"'I'll do it, Sorr,' says I, 'if it costs me my shtripes.'</p> +<p>"'The fact is,' says he, 'we've run out o' claret, an' there's +no dacent shtuff to be had for twinty miles round; annyway, that's +what I'm tould. Now the Gin'ral has a great fancy for red +wine.'</p> +<p>"''Tis a sad business,' says I.</p> +<p>"'I've heard it whispered,' says the poor man, an' he wid the +D.S.O. an' all, 'that where there's a good dhrop o' dhrink you're +the man to find it. An',' says he, 'there's no discredit to ye in +that, O'Reilly.'</p> +<p>"'Indeed no, Sorr,' says I; ''tis a gift.'</p> +<p>"'Well,' says he, 'would ye use that same gift of yours for the +honour o' the Rig'mint?'"</p> +<p>O'Reilly felt in his pocket for a tobacco-stopper, attended +carefully to his pipe and again fixed me with his candid gaze.</p> +<p>"'There's a bit of a place 'way back,' says I, 'where I've a +fancy I might find somethin'.'</p> +<p>"Wid that he shtuck a bunch o' notes in me hand. 'Don't shpare +the cost,' says he, 'but get it. 'Tis up to you, Sergint, to save a +disp'rit situation.'"</p> +<p>"It was a terrible responsibility," I said.</p> +<p>"Ye may say that. Whin I was alone wid thim notes bulgin' in me +tunic, I'd a notion I might let down the Rig'mint afther all, an' +that would have bruk me heart. But off I wint to see Achille. 'Twas +four miles to the village, an' I wint on my blessed feet, an' by +the time I got to the place I was as nervous as a mouse in a thrap. +Achille's shop wasn't a café or an estaminet or a buvette or +anny o' thim places. He had a bit of a brass plate on his door wid +'Marchand de Vins' on it. I knew him by raison of a fancy that took +me wan day for a dhrop o' brandy. So I wint in through Achille's +door wid thim notes as hot in me pocket as Patsy Donelly's +pipe.</p> +<p>"Achille hopped out o' the little room at the hack same's a bird +out of a cage. 'Ah,' says he, 'that was good cognac, eh? You shall +have more, me son.'</p> +<p>"'Achille,' says I, ''tis a shtrange thing, but there's niver a +thought o' cognac in me mind at all. 'Tis red wine, the best, that +I'm afther.'</p> +<p>"'Red wine!' says he. 'I haven't a litre o' red wine in the +cellars.'</p> +<p>"'Holy Powers!' says I, 'an' you wid "Marchand de Vins" on yer +door.' The shock of it took the breath out o' me entirely. So I sat +up on the counter to think.</p> +<p>"''Tis a matther,' says I, 'that concerns the Rig'mint, a +rig'mint that was niver bate yet.' An' I explained about the +Gin'ral an' what the O.C. tould me. An' thin I tuk the notes from +me pocket an' put thim on the counther undher his eyes.</p> +<p>"'Ach,' says he, ''tisn't money I want from ye, but to hilp a +frind.' Then he folded his arms an' his forehead wint up into a +puzzle o' wrinkles.</p> +<p>"'An' why wouldn't white wine do?' says he.</p> +<p>"'Is it offer white wine to a Gin'ral an' him wid a taste for +red?' says I. 'It might rouse him terrible. Now, Achille,' says I, +'would there be no way of makin' the white red?'"</p> +<p>O'Reilly put a persuasiveness into the last words that revealed +Achille to me as an honest merchant confronted with the most subtle +of temptations.</p> +<p>"O'Reilly," I said, "was that fair?"</p> +<p>"Maybe not, but I'd the Gin'ral an' the honour o' the Rig'mint +fixed in me mind. 'That's a good joke, very good,' says Achille; +but thore was niver a smile on his face.</p> +<p>"'I 'd no intintion to make anny joke,' says I. 'Come, Achille, +you're a knowin' man. Would there be no way at all?'</p> +<p>"Now it happened that he'd lift the door o' the little room +open, an' I could see a bit o' a garden through the window. 'What's +the shtuff growin' out there,' says I, 'wid the dark red leaves to +it, or maybe ye'd call thim purple?'</p> +<p>"'That's beet,' says he with a kind of a groan.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page187" id="page187"></a>[pg +187]</span> +<p>"'Beet,' says I. 'An' isn't beet a red kind of a thing an' +mighty full o' juice?'</p> +<p>"'It is that,' says he, wid the eyes of him almost out o' his +head.</p> +<p>"'Then how would it be,' says I, 'to touch up the white wine wid +some o' that same juice?'</p> +<p>"'The thought was in me mind, God help me,' says he, an' wid +that he sat up on the counther forninst me, an' we shtared into the +garden like two men in a play.</p> +<p>"'Would it make the wine cloudy?' says I.</p> +<p>"'I could filter it so's it'd come as clear as sunshine,' says +he.</p> +<p>"'An' how would it be for taste?' says I.</p> +<p>"Achille put a hand on me arm an' I could feel him shakin' like +a man wid the ague.</p> +<p>"'Heaven forgive me,' says he, 'but ye might say it was the wine +o' the counthry, an' that taste was the mark of it.' 'Tis my belief +he was near cryin', for he was an honest man, an' 'twas for me he +was lowerin' himself to deceit."</p> +<p>"You were a nice pair," I said.</p> +<p>"'Twas a beautiful schame," O'Reilly went on. "I was niver +concerned in a betther."</p> +<p>"Did it come off?" I asked.</p> +<p>"To a turn," said O'Reilly. "We was docthorin' that blissed wine +for the best part o' the day, an' I tuk back a dozen bottles to +camp. The O.C. was hangin' round, as anxious as a dog for his +master.</p> +<p>"'Have ye the wine, O'Reilly?' says he.</p> +<p>"'I have, sorr,' says I; 'but I'd be glad if ye'd ask me no +questions about it.'</p> +<p>"'Not for the world,' says he, givin' me a queer look, an' was +off like a mountain hare."</p> +<p>"Did the General recover?" I asked.</p> +<p>"That wine made a new man of him. He praised the Rig'mint up to +the heighths. We was the pink o' the Army, bedad! The throuble was +he wanted to know where he'd get more o' that same wine.</p> +<p>"'There's no more to be had,' says I to the O.C., for I was done +wid the job.</p> +<p>"'He says it has a powerful bouquet,' says the O.C.</p> +<p>"'That may be,' says I, 'but he'll niver taste the like of it +agin. 'Twas an ould wine o' the counthry, an' there's niver been +the match of it before or since.'</p> +<p>"'Couldn't it be managed annyhow?' says the O.C.</p> +<p>"'Not for all the Gin'rals in the British army,' says I. 'Twas +for the love o' the Rig'mint I got that wine, an' I 'm done wid the +job.'"</p> +<p>"Is that the end?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Barrin' this," said O'Reilly. And he produced from his pocket a +silver cigarette case, inside which was engraved, "To Sergeant +Dennis O'Reilly, who saved the situation, October 15th, 1917."</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/187.png"><img width="100%" src="images/187.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<h3>BACK TO THE LAND</h3> +. <i>Ex-Air-Mechanic (in difficulties).</i> "SEEMS TO BE A RARE OLD +BUS FOR NOSE-DIVING."</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"No, thank you; I hate publicity.—Lord Jellicoe, in reply +to a request for a farewell massage."—<i>Provincial +Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We agree with the gallant Admiral that such operations are +better conducted in private.</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"It was stated that the cow took ill, and died on 23rd June +last, and the purser now claimed the value of the animal, namely, +£5O, and also a further sum of £5, being the loss which +he sustained through the want of milk, butter, and cheese, supplied +by said cow from the date of her death to the date of the raising +of the action."—<i>Scots Paper</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>"Faithful unto death"—and a bit over.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page188" id="page188"></a>[pg +188]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/188.png"><img width="100%" src="images/188.png" alt= +"" /></a></div> +<h3>SARTORIAL CONTRASTS.</h3> +<table width="100%" summary=""> +<tr> +<td>THE DUKE OF WESSEX WELCOMES THE LEADING FINANCIAL MAGNATE OF A +FRIENDLY NATION ON HIS ARRIVAL AT VICTORIA STATION.</td> +<td> </td> +<td>UPPER-CUT BILL OF STEPNEY, THE WEST OF EUROPE HEAVYWEIGHT, +WELCOMES BASHER SCROGGINS OF VALPARAISO ON HIS ARRIVAL AT +LIVERPOOL.</td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr /> +<h2>THE ART OF LEAVING</h2> +. +<p>If I had a son one of the first things I should teach him would +be the art of leaving. I would have him swift in all ways, but +swiftest when the time came to go. And when he went he should go +absolutely. For although the people who leave slowly are bad +enough, they are as nothing compared with the people who make false +exits and return with afterthoughts.</p> +<p>The other day the necessity came for me to visit a house agent. +Life has these chequered moments. There is something of despatch +and order wanting about most house-agents, possibly the result of +their very odd and difficult business, which is for the greater +part carried on with people who don't know their own minds and +apparently are least likely to take an eligible residence when they +most profess satisfaction with it. Be that as it may, house agents' +offices in general have a want of definiteness unknown to, say, +banks or pawnbrokers'. There is no exact spot for you to stand or +sit; you are unaware as to which of the clerks is going to attend +to you, and the odds are heavy that the one you approach will +transfer you to another. There is also a certain air of familiarity +or friendliness: not, of course, approaching the camaraderie of the +dealer in motor cars, who leans against the wall with his hands in +his pockets and talks to customers through a cigarette; but +something much more human than the attitude of a female clerk in a +post-office.</p> +<p>Being pressed for time and having only the very briefest +transaction to perform, it follows that I was kept waiting for my +turn with "our Mr. Plausible," in whose optimistic hands my affairs +at the moment repose.</p> +<p>Occupying his far too tolerant ear was another client, whose +need was a country house surrounded by enough grass-land for a +small stud farm.</p> +<p>This is what happened (he had, by the way, the only chair at +that desk):—</p> +<p><i>Our Mr. Plausible (for the fortieth time).</i> I understand +perfectly. A nice house, out-buildings and about twenty acres of +meadow.</p> +<p><i>Client</i>. Twenty to thirty.</p> +<p><i>Our Mr. P</i>. Yes, or thirty.</p> +<p><i>C</i>. You see, what I want is to breed stock—cattle +and horses too.</p> +<p><i>Our Mr. P</i>. Exactly. Well, the three places I have given +you are all well-adapted.</p> +<p><i>C</i>. When a man gets to my age and has put a little money +by he may just as well take it quietly as not. I don't want a real +farm; I want just a smallish place where I can play at raising +pedigree animals.</p> +<p><i>Our Mr. P</i>. That's just the kind of place I've given you. +The one near Newbury is probably the most suitable. I should see +that first, and then the one near Alton.</p> +<p><i>C</i>. You understand, I don't want a big farm. Anybody else +can have the arable. Just a comfortable house and some meadows; +about twenty acres or even thirty.</p> +<p><i>Our Mr. P</i>. The biggest one I've given you is thirty. The +place near Newbury is twenty-three.</p> +<p><i>C</i>. Well, I'11 go and see them as soon as I can. <i>[Gets +up</i>.</p> +<p><i>Our Mr. P</i>. The sooner the better, I should advise. +There's a great demand for country-houses just now.</p> +<p><i>C.(sitting solidly down again).</i> Ah, yes, but this is +different. What I want is not so much a country-house in the +ordinary meaning of the term as a farm-house, but without +possessing a farm. Just enough buildings and meadow-land to breed a +few shorthorns and a yearling or two. The house must be +comfortable, you know, roomy, but not anything pretentious. +<i>[Gets up again</i>.</p> +<p><i>Our Mr.P.</i> I quite understand. That's just what I've given +you.</p> +<p><i>C. (again seating himself).</i> The whole scheme may be +foolishness. My wife says it is. But <i>(here I believe I groaned +audibly; at any rate all the other clerks looked up)</i> there it +is. When a man has enough to retire on and pay the piper he's +entitled to call the tune; isn't he?</p> +<p><i>[At this point I resist the temptation <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="page189" id="page189"></a>[pg 189]</span> to +take him by the shoulders and push him out</i>.</p> +<p><i>Our Mr. P</i>. Quite, quite. Well, Sir, if you take my advice +you'11 go to Newbury as quickly as you can. It's a first-rate +place—most highly recommended.</p> +<p><i>[Here the client very deliberately puts the three "orders to +view" in his inside pocket and slowly buttons his coat. I flutter +on tiptoe, eager for his chair.</i></p> +<p><i>C</i>. If these won't do you'11 find me some more?</p> +<p><i>Our Mr. P</i>. With pleasure.</p> +<p><i>C</i>. Very well; good morning.</p> +<p><i>[Moves away. I have just begun to speak when he +returns.</i></p> +<p><i>C</i>. Don't forget what I want it for. And not too far from +London or my wife will dislike it.</p> +<p><i>Our Mr. P</i>. Yes, you told me that. I've got a note of it +here.</p> +<p><i>C</i>. And you won't forget about the acreage?</p> +<p><i>Our Mr. P</i>. No."</p> +<p><i>C.(addressing me).</i> I'm afraid I've kept you waiting.</p> +<p><i>I (like the craven liar I am).</i> It's all right.</p> +<p><i>[Client ultimately withdraws, but still with reluctance, and +after two or three hesitations and half-turns back</i>.</p> +<p>And the tragic part of it is that his name is Legion.</p> +<p>That is why if I had a boy I should teach him the art of +leaving. Almost nothing else matters.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>OFFICIAL EUPHEMISM.</h3> +<p>DR. ADDISON has stated that for some time past it has been the +practice riot to use the word "pauper" in official documents when +it was possible to use another expression; and no well-conditioned +person will cavil at the spirit which has prompted the use of a +less invidious substitute. But surely the process might be carried +a good deal further. The practice of giving a dog a bad name is not +only condemned by the proverbial philosophy of the ancients but by +the most emancipated of the orthopsychical educationists of +to-day.</p> +<p>If you keep on calling a man a "criminal," you will end by +making him one. How much wiser it would be to refer to the impulses +which occasionally bring him into conflict with the custodians of +law and order as emanating from a dynamic individualism! In that +way you may very possibly convert him into a static individualist +and sterilize his potential malignance by a subliminal +<i>serum.</i>.</p> +<p>The amount of harm done by disparaging nomenclature is +incalculable. Take the word "thief," for example. Its meaning can +be expressed with infinitely greater precision and delicacy in the +phrase, "one who is unable to discriminate between <i>meum</i> and +<i>tuum</i>." Here you have in place of one mean little word a +well-cadenced phrase of ten. Euphony as well as humanity prompts +the variation.</p> +<p>Classical writers may have objected to the use of sesquipedalian +words, but we know better, and Mr. WINSTON CHURCHILL'S famous +synonym for "lie" is permanently enshrined in the annals of +circumlocution. One of the most offensive words in the language is +"idiot"; yet it can be shorn of nearly all its sting when replaced +by the definition, "a person of infra-normal mentality."</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href= +"images/189.png"><img width="100%" src="images/189.png" alt= +"" /></a> +<p><i>Demolilisation Officer</i>. "WHAT IS THE NUMBER OF YOUR +GROUP?"</p> +<p><i>Private</i>. "I DON'T KNOW, SIR. I WAS A TURF +ACCOUNTANT."</p> +<p><i>Demobilisation Officer</i>. "AH! AGRICULTURE—GROUP +1."</p> +</div> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"London, Dec. 16.—At a meeting of the County Cricket +Advisory Committee it was decided to run the County Championship +during 1919, the matches to be limited to two days. There will be +no change in the number of balls in the over.—Reuter's.</p> +<p>The Soviets are preparing the sharpest +counter-measure.—Reuter's."—<i>Canton Times</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But we are confident that whatever the Soviets' little game is +it will not be cricket.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page190" id="page190"></a>[pg +190]</span> +<h2>STATE LOTTERIES</h2> +. +<blockquote> +<p>[An Equality Theatre is being-run in Munich, where the public +pays a fixed price and is allotted by chance a seat in the stalls +or the gallery.]</p> +</blockquote> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The Equality plan we will run if we can</p> +<p class="i2">So that never a man or a woman need +grumble—</p> +<p>If theatres, should the idea not include</p> +<p class="i2">Books, clothing and food for the great and the +humble?</p> +<p>You will pay a fixed sum and accept what may come,</p> +<p class="i2">Be it loser or plum; and, to shun all that vexes,</p> +<p>We'll even eliminate what modern women hate,</p> +<p class="i2">And will not discriminate as to the sexes.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The question of dress may at first, I confess,</p> +<p class="i2">Make a sort of a mess of our smart +Small-and-Earlies,</p> +<p>Where the First Footman John wears the garb of a don,</p> +<p class="i2">And Lord CURZON comes on from the House in his +pearlies;</p> +<p>But when our char kneels on the steps and reveals</p> +<p class="i2">The last word in "Lucilles," will she not put her +heart more</p> +<p>And more in her duties while great social beauties</p> +<p class="i2">Slink by in "pampooties" and arrows from +Dartmoor?</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Our tastes and our breeding no more will be leading</p> +<p class="i2">The paths of our reading; we'll read what we've got +to</p> +<p>(And it <i>will</i> be a sell for Mamma if her Nell</p> +<p class="i2">Gets the last ETHEL DELL, when Mamma told her +<i>not</i> to);</p> +<p>It may be a worry to poor GILBERT MURRAY</p> +<p class="i2">To read Hints on Curry and Blouses and Batter</p> +<p>In <i>Home Chat</i>, it's true; but still more of a stew</p> +<p class="i2"><i>The Occult Review</i> may appear to his +hatter.</p> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In the matter of meals, since the rations one feels</p> +<p class="i2">Hedonistic ideals have so soundly been shaken</p> +<p>That even the swankiest Duke might say, "Thankee!"</p> +<p class="i2">For Hodge's red hanky of bread and cold bacon;</p> +<p>But if in the sequel all chances are equal</p> +<p class="i2">You'll have to see me quell a volume of curses</p> +<p>When our "jobs" they allot, and I <i>still</i> have to swot,</p> +<p class="i2">If I like it or not, writing topical verses.</p> +</div> +</div> +<hr /> +<h2>A HARDY ANNUAL</h2> +. +<p>The butler, John Binns, who is an old and faithful retainer to +this household, is now suffering from his annual cough. It is a +terrific cough, capable of disputing supremacy with all other +coughs of which the world has heard. The special points about this +cough are (1) its loudness; (2) its combination of the noises made +by all other coughs; (3) its depth; (4) its shriek of despair as it +trembles and reverberates through the house; (5) its capacity to +repel and annihilate sympathy. It is true that I have interviewed +Binns with regard to his cough—it is an annual interview and +is expected of me. I have urged him as he values our friendship not +to neglect his cough, and he has assured me in return that the +doctor has prepared for him a draught which possesses the supreme +quality of being absolutely unable to effect the purpose for which +it was devised.</p> +<p>"I shall drink 'is stuff," says Binns, "but I 'aven't any 'opes +of its doing me any good. It doesn't seem to get me <i>be'ind</i> +the eough. If once I could really get be'ind it I should soon +finish it. But yon can't expect to do anything with a cough unless +you're be'ind it."</p> +<p>"Have you tried chloraline?" I venture to suggest, mentioning +not by that name, but by another, a much-advertised specific.</p> +<p>"I've been living on chloraline—that is when I wasn't +taking camphor lozenges. But my symptoms are too strong for that +kind o' stuff. Besides, I find that it's no use to fill yerself up +with remedies, because they only weigh down the cough unnaturally, +and then when it does bust out it's fit to tear yer throat in +pieces. But none of them get be'ind it—no, not once."</p> +<p>It will be observed that Binns has almost a superstition in +regard to "getting be'ind." If he got rid of his cough with +everything still in front, he would take no satisfaction whatever +in his malady; but as it is he feels a legitimate pride in it. He +has been a member of this household for forty years, and punctually +on the Kalends of March in every year his cough turns up. It never +reduces his efficiency, but, while it alienates affection, it makes +him more valuable to himself as being one who has symptoms capable +of being related at full length to Mrs. Hankinson, the cook, or to +any of the maids who have not yet experienced it and must be made +aware that they belong to an establishment which has the high merit +of accommodating John Binns's annual cough.</p> +<p>It is something to have a butler who has coughed his +irresistible way through two-and-a-half generations. It is a +perfectly harmless affliction, but it gets on nerves in the same +way as it did when first it huicked and honked and strangled and +choked in the seventies of last century. I can see no decrease in +its vigour or its variety. It deserves the chance of immortality +that I hereby offer it, thus giving it a place beside the cough +that <i>Johnson</i> coughed at <i>Dr. Blimber's</i> famous +establishment. It will be remembered that, when the <i>Doctor</i> +began an excursus on the Romans, <i>Johnson</i>, "who happened to +be drinking and who caught the Doctor's eye glaring at him through +the side of his tumbler, left off so hastily that he was convulsed +for some moments and in the sequel ruined Dr. Blimber's point." He +struggled gallantly, but had in the end to give way to an +overwhelming paroxysm of coughing. It was a good cough, but an +isolated one, and was perhaps, after all, not equal to Binns's.</p> +<hr /> +<h3>THE GOOD OLD TIMES.</h3> +<p>Captain Reginald Jones <i>and</i> Captain James Smith, +<i>demobilised, meet accidentally in the waiting-room of a +Government office. Their acquaintanceship had originated in a +shell-hole near Plum-Tree Farm in 1916.</i></p> +<p><i>Reggie</i>. Cheerio, old egg.</p> +<p><i>Jimmy</i>. Same to you. Doing anything?</p> +<p><i>Reggie</i>. Lord, yes! I've been pushed on to the directorate +of the pater's firm.</p> +<p><i>Jimmy</i>. Congrats!</p> +<p><i>Reggie</i>. Stow it, old man; I'm simply worried to death. +The whole cabush is on strike.</p> +<p><i>Jimmy</i>. The blighters! What bunch are they?</p> +<p><i>Reggie</i>. Stone-breakers.</p> +<p><i>Jimmy</i>. Not the stone-breakers, surely?</p> +<p><i>Reggie</i>. Yes, the stone-breakers, perish them!</p> +<p><i>Jimmy</i>. And are you here about it?</p> +<p><i>Reggie</i>. Sure. The junior director gets all the dirty work +to do.</p> +<p><i>Jimmy</i>. What a coincidence! I'm on the same stunt, old +thing.</p> +<p><i>Reggie</i>. Board of Trade?</p> +<p><i>Jimmy</i>. Rats! Organising secretary of the Stone-breakers' +Union.</p> +<p><i>Reggie (after, gasp of surprise).</i> Lucky devil.</p> +<p><i>Jimmy</i>. Rot! I'd chuck it if I could afford to. Don't you +wish sometimes you were back at Plum-Tree Farm?</p> +<p><i>Reggie</i>. Crumbs, Jimmy; but weren't those the glorious +days?</p> +<hr /> +<blockquote> +<p>"EX-CROWN PRINCE'S HORSE TO RUN."—<i>Heading in "The +Times</i>."</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Like master like horse.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page191" id="page191"></a>[pg +191]</span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href= +"images/191.png"><img width="100%" src="images/191.png" alt= +"" /></a>FOR ENTERPRISING DISPERSAL STATIONS. SPEED UP YOUR OUTPUT +BY INSTALLING THE MOVING-STAIRCASE SYSTEM. NO TIME LOST. GOVERNMENT +SUITS "ASSEMBLED" BY SKILLED WORKMEN IN RECORD TIME.</div> +<hr /> +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> +<h4>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks</i>.)</h4> +<p>I SHALL begin by saying straight out that Miss CICELY HAMILTON'S +new book, <i>William—an Englishman</i> (SKEFFINGTON), is one +of the finest war-stories that anyone has yet given us. You know +already what qualities the author brings to her writing; you may +believe me that she has done nothing more real, more nobly +conceived, and by consequence more moving than this short tale. It +opens, in a style of half-humorous irony, with an account of the +youth, early life and courtship of <i>William</i>, who, with the +girl whom he married, belonged to the vehement circles of the +Labour-Suffragist group, spending a cheerfully ignorant life in a +round of meetings, in hunger-striking and whole-hearted support of +the pacifism that "seeks peace and ensues it by insisting firmly, +and even to blood, that it is the other side's duty to give way." +One small concession you must make to Miss HAMILTON'S plot. It is +improbable that, when such a couple as <i>William</i> and +<i>Griselda</i> left England in July 1914 to take their honeymoon +in a remote valley of the Belgian Ardennes, their friends, knowing +them to be without news and ignorant of all speech save English, +should have made no effort to warn them. But, this granted, the +tragedy that follows becomes inevitable. It is so finely told and +so horrible (the more so for the deliberate restraint of the +telling) that I will say nothing to weaken its effect. From one +scene, however, I cannot withhold my tribute of +admiration—that in which <i>William</i>, alone, +brokenhearted, and almost crazed with the ruin of everything that +made up his life, creeps home to find his old associates still +glibly echoing the platitudes in which he once believed. A hint +here of insincerity or conscious arrangement would have ruined all; +as it is, the scene holds and haunts one with an impression of +absolute truth, For the end, marked like all by an almost grim +avoidance of sentimentality, I shall only refer you to the book +itself. After reading it you will, I hope, not think me guilty of +exaggeration when I call it, slight though it is, one for which its +author has deserved well of the State.</p> +<hr /> +<p>The dominant impression left upon me by Miss MERIEL BUCHANAN'S +<i>Petrograd the City of Trouble</i> (COLLINS) is that its author +is a sportswoman of the first order. You see her pressing to the +windows to observe the shooting in the streets, going out to shop, +to dine, to dance, during the stormy months of the various phases +of the various Russian Revolutions. And I hasten to add, for fear +of misunderstanding, that there is no suggestion of pose as the +heroic Englishwoman. It was not till the end of 1918 that Sir +GEORGE BUCHANAN withdrew from a country in which ambassadorial +functions had obviously no reasonable scope. But he and his family, +including our chronicler, his spirited daughter, remained long +after there was any plausible reason to hope for the restoration of +order and very long after considerations of personal safety might +well have dictated and justified retreat. Mr. HUGH WALPOLE in his +preface points out that Miss BUCHANAN is the first English writer +to give a sense of the atmosphere of Russia during the New Terror. +It is curious, but the impression she conveys is of something far +less formidable than we have imagined. That may well be due to her +high courage which minimised the ever-present dangers. Another odd +impression is that her accounts of current events, <i>e.g.</i> of +the death of RASPUTIN, seem to be as unplausible as those which +have been patched from various reports and guesses by writers far +from the actual scene. It is perhaps the very nearness of the +author to the source of the host of wild rumours and speculations +concerning this strange tragedy that conveys this sense of the +impossible. Have I thereby suggested that the book lacks interest? +On the contrary, it hasn't a dull or insincere page.</p> +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page192" id="page192"></a>[pg +192]</span> +<p><i>Little Houses</i> (METHUEN) is not, as you might excusably +suppose, a treatise upon the problem of the hour, but a novel. I +confess that, when I read in the puff preliminary that it was +"minutely observed" and "drab" in setting, my heart sank. But Mr. +WODEN'S book is not made after that sufficiently-exploited fashion. +He has a definite scheme, and (but for the fault of creating more +characters than he can conveniently manage) tells his simple tale +with a mature ease remarkable in a first novel. The plan of it is +the life-story of a group of persons in a provincial factory town +in those Victorian days when trade-unions were first starting, when +the caricaturists lived upon Mr. GLADSTONE'S collars and the Irish +Question was very much in the same state as it is to-day. We watch +the hero, <i>John Allday</i>, developing from a Sunday-school +urchin to flourishing owner of his own business and prospective +alderman. Of course I admit that this synopsis does not sound +peculiarly thrilling; also that as a tale it is by now considerably +more than twice told. But I can only repeat that, for those with a +taste for such stories, here is one excellent of its kind. Whether +Mr. WODEN has been drawing upon personal memories for it, writing +in fact that one novel of which every man is said to be capable, +time and the publishing lists will show. I shall certainly be +interested to see. Meanwhile the fact that despite his name +GEORGE—always an object of the gravest suspicion—I +accept his masculinity without question is my tribute both to the +balance of his style and to the admirable drawing of his hero.</p> +<hr /> +<p>That gallant and heroic gentleman, the late Mr. CECIL +CHESTERTON, proved his quality by his service and death in the +ranks of our army. In such scanty leisure as he could command be +wrote, quite casually as it were, <i>A History of the United +Slates</i> (CHATTO AND WINDUS). He seemed to say as <i>Wemmick</i> +might have said, "Hullo! Here's a nation! Let's write its history," +which he at once proceeded to do with immense gusto and +considerable accuracy. Americans will not universally agree with +all the views he puts forward. I myself am of opinion (probably +quite wrongly) that I could make a better argumentative case for +the North in the Civil War on the question of slavery. And in his +account of the War of 1812-1814 Mr. CHESTERTON spends a great deal +of indignation over the burning by the British of some public +buildings in Washington, omitting to mention that this was done in +reprisal for the burning by the Americans in the previous year of +the public buildings of Toronto. But in the main this history +brilliantly justifies Mr. CHESTERTON'S courage in undertaking it, +and it is written in a style that carries the reader with it from +first to last. The book is introduced by a moving tribute from Mr. +G.K. CHESTERTON to his dead brother.</p> +<hr /> +<p>We doubt whether Mr. BOOTH TARKINGTON'S many admirers on this +side of the Atlantic will read <i>The Magnificent Ambersons</i> +(HODDER AND STOUGHTON) with any great sense of satisfaction. +<i>George Minafer</i> is a spoilt and egotistical cad, and as we +pursue his unpleasant personality from infancy onward our +impatience with the adoring relatives who allow the impossible +little bounder to turn their lives to tragedy becomes more and more +pronounced. In England his "come uppance" would have commenced at +an early age and in the time-honoured place thereunto provided. But +in the case of young American nabobs these corrective agencies are +too often wanting, and though it is hard to believe that a +sophisticated uncle, a soldier grandfather and various other +relatives would have allowed a conceited and overbearing young boor +to wreck his mother's life by separating her from a former +sweetheart, it cannot be said that such cases have not existed or +that the picture is altogether overdrawn. But we do not like +<i>George Minafer</i>, and his final reconciliation with his own +sweetheart and her father—the man whom ho has prevented his +mother from marrying—leaves us cold. But if the characters +are unpleasing the craftsmanship of <i>The Magnificent +Ambersons</i> is of Mr. BOOTH TARKINGTON'S best, and his +description "of the decline and fall of a locally supreme dynasty +of plutocrats before the hosts of the Goths and Huns of spawning +industrialism is almost a contribution to American social +history.</p> +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"><a href= +"images/192.png"><img width="100%" src="images/192.png" alt= +"" /></a><i>Disturbed Burglar</i>. "'SORL RIGHT, CONSTABLE. I'M +ONLY 'AVIN' A GLOAT OVER ME WHIST-DRIVE PRIZES."</div> +<hr /> +<p>Of the two tales in <i>Wild Youth and Another</i> (HUTCHINSON) I +prefer the other. In "Wild Youth" Sir GILBERT PARKER gives us the +unedifying picture of a horrible old man married to a young and +pretty girl. Jealous, tyrannical and vicious, this +creature—referred to as a behemoth—is in all conscience +unsavoury enough; but no one can read his story without feeling +that he never had a dog's chance; and although the tale is in many +respects well-told, I feel that it would have been vastly improved +if some redeeming qualities had been vouchsafed to the villain of +the piece. "Jordan is a Hard Road" is a more engaging piece of +work. Here we have a man who has walked through most of the +commandments—with especial attention to the +eighth—trying to mend his ways. And he makes rather a sound +job of it until something quite unforeseen happens; and then the +old Adam (if this is quite fair to Adam) asserts himself. From a +publisher's "literary note" enclosed in this book you will learn +that Sir GILBERT'S imagination is "as boundless as the tracts of +the Prairie which he loves and knows how to make his readers love." +This is perhaps rather a large order, but I will content myself by +saying that for the scenes of these stories Sir GILBERT has chosen +ground that is familiar to him, and that knowledge is sometimes +even more useful than imagination.</p> +<hr /> +<p>"HAMLET" AND THE FLU (an appeal to the Government): "Angels and +Ministers of Health defend us!"</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +156., March 5, 1919, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 11201-h.htm or 11201-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/2/0/11201/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Sandra Brown and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +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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