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diff --git a/16281-h/16281-h.htm b/16281-h/16281-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0efd641 --- /dev/null +++ b/16281-h/16281-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2636 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + + <title>Punch, January 28th, 1920.</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + p.center {text-align: center;} + p.author {text-align: right; margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 5%;} + p.right {text-align: right; margin-right: 5%;} + .i16 {margin-left: 8em;} + 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%;} + + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .note + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .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;} + .poem p.i12 {margin-left: 6em;} + .poem p.i16 {margin-left: 8em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figure p.in, .figcenter p.in, .figright p.in, .figleft p.in + {margin: 0; text-indent: 8em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + --> + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 158, +January 28th, 1920, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 158, January 28th, 1920 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: July 13, 2005 [EBook #16281] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Keith Edkins and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 158.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>January 28th, 1920.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" id="page61"></a>[pg 61]</span> + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + + <p>Now that petrol is being increased by eightpence a gallon, pedestrians + will shortly have to be content to be knocked down by horsed vehicles or + hand trucks.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Moleskins, says a news item, are now worth eighteen-pence each. It is + only fair to add that the moles do not admit the accuracy of these + figures.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Three hundred pounds is the price asked by an advertiser in <i>The + Times</i> for a motor-coat lined with Persian lamb. It is still possible + to get a waistcoat lined with English lamb (or even good capon) for a + mere fraction of that sum.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Charged with impersonation at a municipal election a defendant told + the Carlisle Bench that it was only a frolic. The Bench, entering into + the spirit of the thing, told the man to go and have a good frisk in the + second division.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>"Steamers carrying coal from Dover to Calais," says a news item, "are + bringing back champagne." It is characteristic of the period that we + should thus exchange the luxuries of life for its necessities.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Charged at Willesden with travelling without a ticket a Walworth girl + was stated to have a mania for travelling on the Tube. The Court + missionary thought that a position could probably be obtained for her as + scrum-half at a West End bargain-counter.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>A correspondent writes to a London paper to say that he heard a lark + in full song on Sunday. We can only suppose that the misguided bird did + not know it was Sunday.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>A medical man refers to the case of a woman who has no sense of time, + proportion or numbers. There should be a great chance for her as a + telephone operator.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>"Owing to its weed-choked condition," says <i>The Evening News</i>, + "the Thames is going to ruin." Unless something is done at once it is + feared that this famous river may have to be abolished.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>As the supply of foodstuffs will probably be normal in August next, + the Food Ministry will cease to exist, its business being finished. This + seems a pretty poor excuse for a Government Department to give for + closing down.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>"Music is not heard by the ear alone," says M. <font + class="sc">Jacques Dalcroze</font>. Experience proves that when the piano + is going next door it is heard by the whole of the neighbour at once.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>A weekly paper points out that there are at least thirty thousand + unemployed persons in this country. This of course is very serious. After + all you cannot have strikes unless the people are in work.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>It appears that the dog (since destroyed) which was found wandering + outside No. 10, Downing Street, had never tasted Prime Minister.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>It is reported that when Sir <font class="sc">David Burnett</font> put + up Drury Lane Theatre for sale under the hammer the other day one + gentleman offered to buy it on condition that the vendor papered the + principal room and put a bath in.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>A Bolton labourer who picked up twenty-five one-pound Treasury notes + and restored them to the proper owner was rewarded with a shilling. It is + only fair to say that the lady also said, "Thank you."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Asked what he would give towards a testimonial fund for a local hero + one hardy Scot is reported to have said that he would give three + cheers.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>We learn on good authority that should a General Election take place + during one of Mr. <font class="sc">Lloyd George's</font> visits to Paris + <i>The Daily Mail</i> will undertake to keep him informed regarding the + results by means of its Continental edition.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>A sad story reaches us from South-West London. It appears that a girl + of twenty attempted suicide because she realised she was too old to write + either a popular novel or a book of poems.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>The Guards, it is stated, are to revert to the pre-war scarlet tunic + and busby. Pre-war head-pieces, it may be added, are now worn exclusively + at the War Office.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>At the Independent Labour Party's Victory dance it was stipulated that + "evening dress and shirt sleeves are barred." This challenge to the upper + classes (with whom shirt-sleeves are of course <i>de rigueur</i>) is not + without its significance.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>As much alarm was caused by the announcement in these columns last + week that the collapse of a wooden house was caused by a sparrow stepping + on it, we feel we ought to mention that, owing to a sudden gust of wind, + the bird in question leaned to one side, and it was simply this movement + which caused the house to overbalance.</p> + +<hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/058.png"><img width="100%" src="images/058.png" + alt="" /></a> + <h3>THE WAVE OF CRIME.</h3> + + <p><i>Gent.</i> "<font class="sc">What made you put your hand into my + pocket</font>?"</p> + + <p><i>Doubtful Character.</i> "<font class="sc">Just absent-mindedness. + I once 'ad a pair of pants exactly like those you're + wearing</font>."</p> + </div> +<hr /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"The eternal combustion engine has become recognised the world over as + a factor in modern civilisation."—<i>Provincial Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>But surely it is many years since Lord <font + class="sc">Westbury</font> in the <font class="sc">Gorham</font> case was + said to have "dismissed h—— with costs?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" id="page62"></a>[pg 62]</span> + +<h2>THE SWEET INFLUENCES OF TRADE.</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p>[The revival, in certain quarters, of commercial relations with + Germany has already begun to blunt the memory of the War. And now the + proposal to open up trade with the Co-operative Societies in Russia, to + the obvious benefit of the Bolshevists, who practically control the whole + country, looks like an attempt to bring about indirectly a peace which we + cannot in decency negotiate through the ordinary channels of + diplomacy.]</p> + + </blockquote> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>They are coming, the carpet-baggers, their voices are heard in the land,</p> + <p>Guttural Teuton organs, but very polite and bland;</p> + <p>And our arms are stretched for their welcome; we've buried the past like a dud;</p> + <p>For blood may be thicker than water, but Trade is thicker than blood.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The Winter of war is over, and lo! with the dawn of Spring</p> + <p>They come, and we greet them coming, like swallows that homeward swing,</p> + <p>Fair as the violet's waking, swift as the snows in flood,</p> + <p>For blood may be thicker than water, but Trade is thicker than blood.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Likewise with Soviet Russia—we've done with the need to fight;</p> + <p>There are gentler methods (and cheaper) of putting the whole thing right;</p> + <p>The palms of the dealers are plying the soap's invisible sud,</p> + <p>For blood may be thicker than water, but Trade is thicker than blood.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Of Peace there can be no parley with <font class="sc">Lenin's</font> <i>régime</i>, as such,</p> + <p>But Business can easily tackle what Honour declines to touch,</p> + <p>Making the sewage to blossom, sampling the septic mud,</p> + <p>For blood may be thicker than water, but Trade is thicker than blood.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Thus may our merchant princes modestly play their part,</p> + <p>Speeding the silent process of soldering heart to heart,</p> + <p>Just as the forces of Nature silently swell the bud,</p> + <p>For blood may be thicker than water, but Trade is thicker than blood.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So in the hands of the Bolshie our hands shall at last be laid;</p> + <p>Deep unto deep is calling to lift the long blockade;</p> + <p>"No truck," we had sworn, "with murder;" but God will forget that oath,</p> + <p>For blood is thicker than water, but Trade is thicker than both.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i16">O.S.</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WITH THE AUXILIARY PATROL.</h2> + +<p class="center"><font class="sc">An Honourable Record.</font></p> + + <p>Many years ago, in the reign of good <font class="sc">Queen + Victoria</font>, a little ship sailed out of Grimsby Docks in all the + proud bravery of new paint and snow-white decks, and passed the Newsand + bound for the Dogger Bank. They had christened her the <i>King + George</i>, and, though her feminine susceptibilities were perhaps a + trifle piqued at this affront to her sex, it was a right royal name, and + her brand-new boilers swelled with loyal fervour. She was a steam + trawler—at that time one of the smartest steam trawlers afloat, and + she knew it; she held her headlights very high indeed, you may be + sure.</p> + + <p>Time passed, and the winds and waters of the North Sea dealt all too + rudely with the fair freshness of her exterior; she grew worn and + weather-stained, and it was apparent even to the casual eye of a landsman + that she had left her girlhood behind her out on the Nor'-East Rough. + Some of the younger trawlers would jeeringly refer to her behind her back + as "Auntie," and affected to regard her as an antediluvian old dowager, + which of course was mainly due to jealousy. But she still pegged away at + her work, bringing in from the Dogger week by week her cargoes of fish, + regardless alike of the ravages of time and the jibes of her upstart + rivals. As long as her owners were satisfied she was happy, for she + cherished first and last a sense of duty, as all good ships do.</p> + + <p>And then suddenly came the War, infesting the seas with unaccustomed + and nerve-racking dangers. I must apologise for mentioning this, as + everybody knows that we ought now to forget about the War as quickly as + possible and get on with more important matters, but at the time it had a + certain effect upon us all, not excluding the <i>King George</i>. + Scorning the menaces that lurked about her path she carried on the + pursuit of the cod and haddock in her old undemonstrative fashion, for + she was a British ship from stem to stern and conscious of the tradition + behind her.</p> + + <p>Then one day they hauled her up in dock, gave her a six-pounder + astern, fitted her with wireless and sent her out to take care of her + unarmed sisters on the fishing-grounds. She flew the White Ensign.</p> + + <p>These were the proudest days of her life: she was helping to keep the + seas. It is true the big ships of the Fleet might laugh at her in a + good-natured way and pass uncomplimentary remarks about her personal + appearance, but they had to acknowledge her seamanship and her pluck. She + could buffet her way through weather that no destroyer dare face, and + mines had no terrors for her, for even if she were to bump a tin-fish it + only meant one old trawler the less, and the Navy could afford it.</p> + + <p>It was during these days, too, that she became known, though not by + name, to readers of <i>Punch</i>, for her adventures and those of her + crew were often chronicled in his tales of the "Auxiliary Patrol." And + when she had seen the War through she said Good-bye to his pages and made + ready to return again to the ways of peace. She was quite satisfied; she + never thought of giving up her job, though she was now a very old ship, + and it would have been no shame to her. She just took a fresh coat of + paint and steamed away to the Dogger Bank once more.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>The other day a small paragraph appeared in some of the newspapers + that were not too busy discussing the possibilities of another railway + strike: "The Grimsby trawler <i>King George</i>," it said, "is reported + long over-due from the fishing-grounds, and the owners say that there is + no hope of her return." No one would notice this, because the first round + of the English Cup was to be played that week, and besides it was not as + though it were a battleship or a big liner that had gone down. It was + just the old <i>King George</i>.</p> + + <p>And that, I suppose, is the end of her, except that she may continue + to be remembered by one or two who served aboard her in the days of the + Auxiliary Patrol—remembered as a gallant little ship that served + her country in its hour of need, and did not hold that hour the limit of + her service. Well played, <i>King George</i>!</p> + +<hr /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"THE DRINKWATER TRAGEDY."—<i>Heading in "New York + Times."</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>This comes from dry America, but it is not the wail of a "Wet"; merely + the heading of an article on <i>Abraham Lincoln</i>.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"Wales has its Ulster just as Ireland had, and it was a question + whether Wales was going to be conquered by the industrial area of Cardiff + and the district, or whether the industrial area was going to conquer + Wales."—<i>Western Mail.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>We shall put our money on "the industrial area."</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" id="page63"></a>[pg 63]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/060.png"><img width="100%" src="images/060.png" + alt="" /></a> + <div class="i16"> + <h3>A POPULAR REAPPEARANCE.</h3> + + <p><font class="sc">Mr. Asquith</font> (<i>the Veteran Scots + Impersonator</i>) <i>sings</i>:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"I LOVE A LASSIE,</p> + <p>ANITHER LOWLAN' LASSIE."</p> + </div> + </div> + + </div> + </div> +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" id="page64"></a>[pg 64]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/061.png"><img width="100%" src="images/061.png" + alt="" /></a> + <p><i>Officer.</i> "<font class="sc">Well, Peters, how did you get + on?</font>"</p> + + <p><i>Steward</i> (<i>who has asked for special leave</i>). "<font + class="sc">Nothin' doin', Sir. The skipper 'e sez to me, 'e sez, 'It'll + cost the country four-an'-sevenpence to send you 'ome, an' as the Navy + 'as got to economise you'll do to begin on,' 'e sez</font>."</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h2>A LIMPET OF WAR.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>With the British Army in France.</i>)</p> + + <p>The day on which that fine old crusted warrior, Major Slingswivel, + quits the hospitable confines of Nullepart Camp will be the signal that + the British Army in France has completed its work, even to the labelling + and despatching of the last bundle of assorted howitzers. A British army + in France without Major Slingswivel would be unthinkable. It is + confidently asserted that Nullepart Camp was built round him when he + landed in '14, and that he has only emerged from it on annual visits to + his tailor for the purpose of affixing an additional chevron and having + another inch let into his tunic. Latest reports state that he is still + going strong, and indenting for ice-cream freezers in anticipation of a + hot summer.</p> + + <p>But for an unforgivable error of tact I might have stood by the old + brontosaurus to the bitter end. One evening he and I were listening to a + concert given by the "Fluffy Furbelows" in the camp Nissen Coliseum, and + a Miss Gwennie Gwillis was expressing an ardent desire to get back to + Alabama and dear ole Mammy and Dad, not to speak of the rooster and the + lil melon-patch way down by the swamp. The prospect as painted by her was + so alluring that by the end of the first verse all the troops were + infected with trans-Atlantic yearnings and voiced them in a manner that + would have made an emigration agent rub his hands and start chartering + transport right away. She had an enticing twinkle which lighted on the + Major a few times, so that I wasn't surprised when the second chorus + found him roaring out that he too was going to take a long lease of a + shack down Alabama way.</p> + + <p>"Gad—she's immense! We must invite her to tea to-morrow," he + said to me in a whisper that shook the Nissen hut to its foundations. + Slingswivel was no vocal lightweight. Those people in Thanet and Kent who + used to write to the papers saying they could hear the guns in the Vimy + Ridge and Messines offensives were wrong. What they really heard was + Major Slingswivel at Nullepart expostulating with his partner for + declaring clubs on a no-trump hand.</p> + + <p>"Very well," I answered sulkily. It wasn't the first time the Major + had been captivated by ladies with Southern syncopated tastes, and I knew + I should be expected to complete the party with the other lady member of + the troupe, Miss Dulcie Demiton, and listen to the old boy making very + small talk in a very large voice. I could see myself balancing a teacup + and trying to get in a word here and there through the barrage.</p> + + <p>Still, there was no getting out of it, and next afternoon found our + quartette nibbling <i>petits gâteaux</i> in the only <i>pâtisserie</i> in + the village. The Major was in fine fettle as the war-worn old veteran, + and Gwennie and Dulcie spurred him on with open and undisguised + admiration.</p> + + <p>"Now I'm in France," gushed Gwennie, "I want to see + <i>everything</i>—where the trenches were and where you fought your + terrible battles."</p> + + <p>"Delighted to show you," said Slingswivel, bursting with pride at + being taken for a combatant officer. "How about to-morrow?"</p> + + <p>"Just lovely," cooed Gwennie. "We're showing at Petiteville in the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" id="page65"></a>[pg 65]</span> + evening, but we shan't be starting before lunch."</p> + + <p>"That gives us all morning," said the Major enthusiastically. "Miss + Gwennie, Miss Dulcie, Spenlow, we will parade to-morrow at 9.30."</p> + + <p>I couldn't understand it. Naturally Gwennie, with her mind constantly + set on Alabama, couldn't be expected to be up in war geography, but the + Major knew jolly well that all the battles within reasonable distance of + Nullepart had been fought out with chits and indents. I put it to him + that it wasn't likely country for war thrills.</p> + + <p>"Leave it to me," he said confidently.</p> + + <p>So I left it, and when we paraded next morning where do you think the + wily old bird led us? Why, to the old training ground on the edge of the + camp, where the R.E.'s used to lay out beautifully revetted geometrical + trenches as models of what we were supposed to imitate in the front line + between hates. Having been neglected since the Armistice they had caved + in a bit and sagged round the corners till they were a very passable + imitation of the crump-battered thing.</p> + + <p>Old Slingswivel so arranged the itinerary that the girls didn't + perceive that the sector was bounded on one side by Père Popeau's turnip + field and on the other by a duck-pond, and he showed a tactical knowledge + of the value of cover in getting us into a trench out of view of certain + stakes and pickets that were obviously used by Mère Popeau as a + drying-ground. To divert attention he gave a vivid demonstration of + bombing along a C.T. with clods of earth, with myself as bayonet-man + nipping round traverses and mortally puncturing sand-bags with a + walking-stick. It must have been a pretty nervy business for the Major, + for any minute we might have come across a notice-board about the hours + of working parties knocking off for dinner that would have given the + whole show away. But he displayed fine qualities of leadership and + presence of mind at critical moments, notably when Gwennie showed a + disposition to explore a particular dug-out.</p> + + <p>"I shouldn't advise you to go in there, Miss Gwennie," he said + gravely.</p> + + <p>"Why?" asked Gwennie apprehensively.</p> + + <p>"Not a pleasant sight for a lady," said the Major gruffly. "It upset + <i>me</i> one day when I looked in."</p> + + <p>This was probable enough, for the Mess steward used it as a store for + empty bottles.</p> + + <p>Gwennie shuddered and passed on.</p> + + <p>The Major mopped his forehead with relief and set the ladies + souveniring among old water-tin stoppers, which he alleged to be the + plugs of hand-grenades.</p> + + <p>Taking it all round, it was a successful morning's show, which did + credit to the producer, and it was only spoiled when, so to speak, the + curtain rolled down amidst thunders of applause.</p> + + <p>"We don't realize what we owe to gallant soldiers like you," said + Gwennie admiringly.</p> + + <p>The Major waved a fat deprecating hand.</p> + + <p>"And Captain Spenlow has just been telling me," continued Gwennie, + "that you occupied this sector all through the War and that you hung on + right to the very last, <i>notwithstanding incredible efforts to dislodge + you</i>."</p> + + <p>At this crude statement of the naked facts Slingswivel's face went a + deeper shade of purple, and you can appreciate why I put in an urgent + application for immediate release, on compassionate grounds, and why the + Major gladly endorsed it.</p> + +<hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:66%;"> + <a href="images/062.png"><img width="100%" src="images/062.png" + alt="" /></a> + <p><i>The New Minister.</i> "<font class="sc">Boy, do ye no ken it's + the Sawbath</font>?"</p> + + <p><i>Boy.</i> "<font class="sc">Oh ay, fine. But this is work o' + necessity</font>."</p> + + <p><i>Minister.</i> "<font class="sc">An' hoo is that</font>?"</p> + + <p><i>Boy.</i> "<font class="sc">The meenister's comin' tae dinner an' + we've naethin' tae gie 'im</font>."</p> + </div> +<hr /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"WAR CRIMINALS.</p> + + <p>THE THREE PREMIERS MEET ALONE TO-DAY."—<i>Evening Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>We suspect Mr. <font class="sc">Keynes'</font> hand in these + headlines.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"Information wanted as to whereabouts of Mrs. J.O. Plonk (Blonk) wife + of J.O. Plonk (Clonk)."—<i>Advt. in Chinese Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>This should go very well with a banjo accompaniment.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" id="page66"></a>[pg 66]</span> + +<h2>THE TRAGEDY OF AN AUTHOR'S WIFE.</h2> + + <p>"I won't stand it any longer," said Janet intensely, meeting me in the + hall. "Take off your umbrella and listen to me."</p> + + <p>"It's off," I replied faintly, perceiving that something was all my + fault. "Can't you hear it singing 'Niagara' in the porch?"</p> + + <p>I dropped the shopping on the floor and sat down to watch Janet + walking up and down the room.</p> + + <p>"I want," she continued in the tone of one who has had nobody to be + indignant with all day, "a divorce."</p> + + <p>"Who for?" I inquired. "Really, darling, we can't afford any more + presents this—"</p> + + <p>"Me," she interrupted, frowning.</p> + + <p>"Couldn't you have it for your birthday?" I suggested. "I may have + some more money by then. Besides, I gave you—"</p> + + <p>"No, I could not," replied Janet in a voice like the end of the world; + "I want it now. I will not wear myself out trying to live up to an + impossible ideal, and lose all my friends because they can't help + comparing me with it. And it isn't even as if it were my own ideal. I + never know what I've got to be like from one week to another. And what do + I get for my struggles? Not even recognition, much less gratitude."</p> + + <p>"Janet," I said kindly, "I don't know <i>what</i> you're talking + about. Who are these people who keep idealising you? I will not have you + annoyed in this way. Send them to me and I'll put a little solid realism + into their heads. I'll tell them what you really are, and that'll settle + their unfortunate illusions. Dear old girl, don't worry so.... I'll soon + put it right."</p> + + <p>Janet looked at me piercingly.</p> + + <p>"It's this," she said; "I keep having people to call on me."</p> + + <p>"I know," I answered, shuddering; "but I can't help it, can I? You + shouldn't be so attractive."</p> + + <p>"Dear Willyum," she replied, "that's just the point; you <i>can</i> + help it."</p> + + <p>"Stop calling me names and I'll see what can be done."</p> + + <p>"But it's part of my 'whimsical wit' to call you Willyum," she said + grimly. "I understand that I am like that. People realise this when they + read your articles, and immediately call to see if I'm true. I've read + through nearly all your stories to-day, in between the visitors, + and—and—"</p> + + <p>I gripped her hand in silence.</p> + + <p>"I'm losing all my friends," she mourned, touched by my sympathy, + "even those who used to like me long ago. Girls who knew me at school say + to themselves, 'Fancy poor old Janet being like that all the time, and we + never knew!' and they rush down to see me again. They sit hopefully round + me as long as they can bear it; then, after the breakdown, they go away + indignant and never think kindly of me again."</p> + + <p>She gloomed.</p> + + <p>"And all the cousins and nice young men who used to think I was quite + jolly have suddenly noticed how much jollier I might be if only I could + say the things they say you say I say...."</p> + + <p>"Hush, hush," I whispered; "have an aspirin."</p> + + <p>"But it's quite <i>true</i>," she cried hopelessly. "And She's just + what I ought to be. She says everything just in the right place. When I + compare myself with Her, I know I'm not a bit the kind of person you + admire, and—and it's no good pretending any longer. I'm not + jealous, only—sort of misrubble."</p> + + <p>She rose with a pale smile and, hushing my protestations, arrived at + her conclusion.</p> + + <p>"We must part," she said, throwing her cigarette into the fire and + walking to the window; "I can't help it. I suppose I'm not good enough + for you. You must be free to marry Her when we find Her. I too," she + sighed, "must be free...."</p> + + <p>"I now call upon myself to speak," I remarked, rising hurriedly. + "Janet," I continued, arriving at her side, "keep perfectly still and do + not attempt to breathe, because you will not be able to, and look as + pleasant as you can while I tell you truthfully what I think you are + really like."</p> + + <p>(I have been compelled to delete this passage on the ground that even + if people believed me it would only attract more callers.)</p> + + <p>"All right," she continued, unruffling her hair; "but if I do you must + promise to leave off writing stories about me. Will you?"</p> + + <p>"But, darling," I objected, "consider the bread-and-jam."</p> + + <p>She was silent.</p> + + <p>"Well, then," she said at last, "you must only write careful ones that + I can live up to."</p> + + <p>"I'll try," I agreed remorsefully; "I'll go and do one now—all + about this. And you can censor it." I left the room jauntily.</p> + + <p>Janet's voice, suddenly repentant, followed me.</p> + + <p>"No," she called, "that won't do either. Because if it's a true one + you won't sell it."</p> + + <p>"But if it isn't," I called back, "and I do, we can put the money in + the Divorce Fund."</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE SORROWS OF A SUPER-PROFITEER.</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p>[Bradford wool-spinners are stated to be unable to escape from the + deluge of wealth that pours upon them or avoid making profits of three + thousand two hundred per cent.]</p> + + </blockquote> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And so you thought we simply steered</p> + <p class="i2">Great motor-cars to champagne dinners</p> + <p>And bought tiaras and were cheered</p> + <p class="i2">By hopes of breeding Epsom winners;</p> + <p>Eh, lad, you little knew the weird</p> + <p class="i2">Dreed by the Yorkshire spinners.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>How hollow are those marble halls,</p> + <p class="i2">The place I built and deemed a show-thing,</p> + <p>Its terraces, its waterfalls—</p> + <p class="i2">Once more I hear that sound of loathing,</p> + <p>The bell rings and a stranger calls</p> + <p class="i2">To speak of underclothing.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>They've bashed my offices to wrecks,</p> + <p class="i2">They've broke their way beyond the warders,</p> + <p>And now my country seat they vex,</p> + <p class="i2">They trample my herbaceous borders;</p> + <p>They chase me up and down with cheques,</p> + <p class="i2">They flummox me with orders.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>They bolt me to the billiard-room,</p> + <p class="i2">Where chaps are playing five-bob snooker;</p> + <p>They see me dodging from the doom,</p> + <p class="i2">They heed no threats and no rebuker;</p> + <p>"We've got thee now," they say, "ba goom!"</p> + <p class="i2">And pelt me with their lucre.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Vainly I put the prices up</p> + <p class="i2">To stem that flowing tide of riches;</p> + <p>The horror haunts me as I sup;</p> + <p class="i2">The unknown guest arrives and pitches</p> + <p>His ultimatum in my cup:—</p> + <p class="i2">"The people must have breeches."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I shall not see the skylark soar</p> + <p class="i2">Nor hear the cuckoo nor the linnet,</p> + <p>When Springtime comes, above the roar</p> + <p class="i2">Of folk a-hollering each minute</p> + <p>For yarn at thirty-two times more</p> + <p class="i2">Than what I spent to spin it.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Eh me, I cannot help but pine</p> + <p class="i2">For days departed now and olden,</p> + <p>When I could drink of common wine,</p> + <p class="i2">To powdered flunkeys unbeholden;</p> + <p>Do peas taste better when we dine</p> + <p class="i2">Because the knife is golden?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Often I wish I might repair</p> + <p class="i2">To haunts that once I used to enter,</p> + <p>Like "The Old Fleece" up yonder there,</p> + <p class="i2">Of which I was a great frequenter,</p> + <p>Not yet a brass-bound millionaire,</p> + <p class="i2">But just a cent-per-center.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i16"><font class="sc">Evoe</font>.</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"Over 30,000 people paid £2,019 to see the cup tie at Valley + Parade."—<i>Provincial Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>The new rich!</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" id="page67"></a>[pg 67]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/064.png"><img width="100%" src="images/064.png" + alt="" /></a> + <h3>MANNERS AND MODES.</h3> + + <p class="center">HERO-WORSHIP: DISTRACTIONS OF THE FILM WORLD.</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" id="page68"></a>[pg 68]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/065.png"><img width="100%" src="images/065.png" + alt="" /></a> + <p><i>Female</i> (<i>to ignorant party</i>). "<font class="sc">'E's + dressed as one o' them Bronchial Busters to attract attention to 'is + Corf Cure.</font>"</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h2>THE JUMBLE SALE.</h2> + + <p>Aunt Angela coughed. "By the way, Etta was here this afternoon."</p> + + <p>Edward's eye met mine. The result of Etta's last call was that Edward + spent a vivid afternoon got up as Father Christmas in a red dressing-gown + and cotton-wool whiskers, which caught fire and singed his home-grown + articles, small boys at the same time pinching his legs to see if he was + real, while I put in some sultry hours under a hearthrug playing the + benevolent polar-bear to a crowd of small girls who hunted me with + fire-irons.</p> + + <p>"What is it this time?" I asked.</p> + + <p>"A jumble sale," said Aunt Angela.</p> + + <p>"What's that?"</p> + + <p>"A scheme by which the bucolic English exchange garbage," Edward + explained.</p> + + <p>"Oh, well, that has nothing to do with us, thank goodness."</p> + + <p>He returned to his book, a romance entitled <i>Gertie, or Should She + Have Done It?</i> Edward, I should explain, is a philosopher by trade, + but he beguiles his hours of ease with works of fiction borrowed from the + cook.</p> + + <p>Aunt Angela was of a different opinion. "Oh, yes, it has: both of you + are gradually filling the house up with accumulated rubbish. If you don't + surrender most of it for Etta's sale there'll be a raid."</p> + + <p>My eye met Edward's. We walked out into the hall.</p> + + <p>"We'll have to give Angela something or she'll tidy us," he + groaned.</p> + + <p>"These orderly people are a curse," I protested. "They have no + consideration for others. Look at me; I am naturally disorderly, but I + don't run round and untidy people's houses for them."</p> + + <p>Edward nodded. "I know; I know it's all wrong, of course; we should + make a stand. Still, if we can buy Angela off, I think ... you + understand?..." And he ambled off to his muck-room.</p> + + <p>If anybody in this neighbourhood has anything that is both an eyesore + and an encumbrance they bestow it on Edward for his muck-room, where he + stores it against an impossible contingency. I trotted upstairs to my + bedroom and routed about among my <i>Lares et Penates</i>. I have many + articles which, though of no intrinsic value, are bound to me by strong + ties of sentiment; little old bits of things—you know how it is. + After twenty minutes' heart-and-drawer-searching I decided to sacrifice a + policeman's helmet and a sock, the upper of which had outlasted the toe + and heel. I bore these downstairs and laid them at Aunt Angela's + feet.</p> + + <p>"What's this?" said she, stirring the helmet disdainfully with her + toe.</p> + + <p>"Relic of the Great War. The Crown Prince used to wear it in wet + weather to keep the crown dry."</p> + + <p>Aunt Angela sniffed and picked up the sock with the fire-tongs. "And + this?"</p> + + <p>"A sock, of course," I explained. "An emergency sock of my own + invention. It has three exits, you will observe, very handy in case of + fire."</p> + + <p>"Hump!" said Aunt Angela.</p> + + <p>Edward returned bearing his offerings, a gent's rimless boater, a + doorknob, six inches of lead-piping and half a bottle of cod-liver + oil.</p> + + <p>"Hump!" said Aunt Angela.</p> + + <p>No more was said of it that night. Aunt Angela resumed her sewing, + Edward his <i>Gertie</i>, I my slumb—, my meditations. Nor indeed + was the jumble sale again mentioned, a fact which in itself should have + aroused my suspicions; but I am like that, innocent as a sucking-dove. I + had put the matter out of my mind altogether until yesterday evening, + when, hearing the sound of laboured breathing and the frantic clanking of + a bicycle pump proceeding from the shed, I went thither to investigate, + and was nearly capsized by Edward charging out.</p> + + <p>"It's gone," he cried—"gone!" and pawed wildly for his + stirrup.</p> + + <p>"What has?" I inquired.</p> + + <p>"'The Limit,'" he wailed. "She's picked ... lock ... muck-room with a + hairpin, sent ... Limit ... jumble sale!"</p> + + <p>He sprang aboard his cycle and disappeared down the high road to St. + Gwithian, pedalling like a squirrel on a treadmill, the tails of his new + mackintosh spread like wings on the breeze. So Aunt Angela with + serpentine guile had deferred her raid until the last moment and then + bagged "The Limit," the pride of the muck-room.</p> + + <p>"The Limit," I should tell you, is (or was) a waterproof. It is a + faithful record of Edward's artistic activities during the last thirty + years, being decorated all down the front with smears of red, white and + green paint. Here and there it has been repaired with puncture patches + and strips of surgical plaster, but more often it has not. As Edward is + incapable of replacing a button and Aunt Angela refuses to touch the + "Limit," he knots himself into it with odds and ends of string and has to + be liberated by his ally, the cook, with a kitchen knife. Edward calls it + his "garden coat," and swears he only wears it on dirty jobs, to save his + new mackintosh, but nevertheless he is sincerely attached to the rag, and + once attempted to travel to London to a Royal Society beano in it, and + was only frustrated in the nick of time.</p> + + <p>So the oft-threatened "Limit" had been reached at last. I laughed + heartily for a moment, then a sudden cold dread gripped me, and I raced + upstairs and tore open my wardrobe. Gregory, the glory of Gopherville, + had gone too!</p> + + <p>A word as to Gregory. If you look at a map of Montana and follow a + line due North through from Fort Custer you will not find Gopherville, + because a cyclone removed it some eight years ago. Nine years ago, + however, Gregory and I first met in the "Bon Ton Parisian Clothing + Store," in the main (and only) street of Gopherville, and I secured him + for ten dollars cash. He is a mauve satin waistcoat, embroidered with a + chaste design of anchors and <span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" + id="page69"></a>[pg 69]</span> forget-me-nots, subtly suggesting + perennial fidelity. The combination of Gregory and me proved irresistible + at all Gopherville's social events.</p> + + <p>Wishing to create a favourable atmosphere, I wore Gregory at my first + party in England. I learn that Aunt Angela disclaimed all knowledge of me + during that evening.</p> + + <p>Subsequently she made several determined attempts to present Gregory + to the gardener, the butcher's boy and to an itinerant musician as an + overcoat for his simian colleague. Had I foiled her in all of these to be + beaten in the end? No, not without a struggle. I scampered downstairs + again and, wresting Harriet's bicycle from its owner's hands (Harriet is + the housemaid and it was her night out), was soon pedalling furiously + after Edward.</p> + + <p>The jumble sale was being held in the schools and all St. Gwithian was + there, fighting tooth and nail over the bargains. A jumble sale is to + <i>rus</i> what remnant sales are to <i>urbs</i>. I battled my way round + to each table in turn, but nowhere could I find my poor dear old Gregory. + Then I saw Etta, the presiding genius, and butted my way towards her.</p> + + <p>"Look here," I gasped—"have you by any chance seen—?" I + gave her a full description of the lost one.</p> + + <p>Etta nodded. "Sort of illuminated horse-blanket? Oh, yes, I should say + I have."</p> + + <p>"Tell me," I panted—"tell me, is it sold yet? Who bought it? + Where is—?"</p> + + <p>"It's not sold <i>yet</i>," said Etta calmly. "There was such rivalry + over it that it's going to be raffled. Tickets half-a-crown each. Like + one?"</p> + + <p>"But it's <i>mine</i>!" I protested.</p> + + <p>"On the contrary, it's <i>mine</i>; Angela gave it to me. If you care + to buy all the tickets—?"</p> + + <p>"How much?" I growled.</p> + + <p>"Four pounds."</p> + + <p>"But—but that's twice as much as I paid for it originally!"</p> + + <p>"I know," said Etta sweetly, "but prices have risen terribly owing to + the War."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>I found Edward outside leaning on his jaded velocipede. He was wearing + the "Limit."</p> + + <p>"Hello," said he, "got what you wanted?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," said I, "and so, I observe, did you. How much did <i>you</i> + have to pay?"</p> + + <p>"Nothing," said he triumphantly; "Etta took my new mackintosh in + exchange," he chuckled. "I think we rather scored off Angela this time, + don't you?"</p> + + <p>"Yes," said I—"ye-es."</p> + +<p class="author"><font class="sc">Patlander</font>.</p> + +<hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/066.png"><img width="100%" src="images/066.png" + alt="" /></a> + PORTRAIT OF A GENTLEMAN IN PROCESS OF DECIDING THAT THE HIRE OF A CAR + TO TAKE HIM TO HIS FANCY-DRESS REVEL WOULD HAVE BEEN WELL WORTH THE + EXPENSE. + </div> +<hr /> + + <p>From an invitation to a subscription-ball:—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>"Hoping that you will endeavour to make this, our first dance, a + bumping success...."</p> + + </blockquote> + <p>As the Latin gentleman might have said, <i>Nemo repente fuit + Terpsichore</i>.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"<i>Two pigs off their feet had hard work to get to food trough, but + K—— Pig Powders soon put them right.</i>"—<i>Local + Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>Set them on their feet again, we conclude.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"Respectable reserved lady (25), of ability, wishes to meet + respectable keen Business Gentleman, honourable and + reserved."—<i>Advt. in Irish Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>Obviously reserved for one another.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"A big re-union of all returned men and their dependents is to be held + at the Board of Trade building on New Year's day.... A year ago the + affair was a hug success and the ladies hope for an even better record + this year."—<i>Manitoba Free Press.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>Manitoba is so embracing.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" id="page70"></a>[pg 70]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/067.png"><img width="100%" src="images/067.png" + alt="" /></a> + <div class="i16"> + <p><i>Small Boy</i> (<i>indicating highly-powdered lady</i>). "<font + class="sc">Mummy, may I write 'dust' on that lady's back?</font>"</p> + </div> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h2>TO MY BUTTER RATION</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>On hearing that the stuff is shortly to be decontrolled</i>).</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Thou whom, when Saturday's expiring sun</p> + <p>Informs me that another day is done</p> + <p>And summons fire from the reflecting pane</p> + <p>Of Griggs and Sons, where groceries obtain,</p> + <p>I seek, not lightly nor in careless haste</p> + <p>As men buy bloaters or anchovy paste,</p> + <p>Who fling the cash down with abstracted air,</p> + <p>Crying, "Two tins, please," or "I'll take the pair,"</p> + <p>But reverently and with concentred gaze</p> + <p>Lest Griggs's varlet (drat his casual ways!),</p> + <p>Intrigued with passing friend or canine strife,</p> + <p>Leave half of thee adhering to the knife—</p> + <p>My butter ration! If symbolic breath</p> + <p>Can be presumed in one so close to death,</p> + <p>It is decreed that thou, my heart's desire,</p> + <p>Who scarcely art, must finally expire;</p> + <p>Yea, they who hold thy fortunes in their hands,</p> + <p>Base-truckling to the profiteer's commands,</p> + <p>No more to my slim revenues will temper</p> + <p>The cost of thee, but with a harsh "<i>Sic semper</i></p> + <p><i>Pauperibus</i>" fling thee, heedless of my prayers,</p> + <p>Into the fatted laps of war-time millionaires.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No more when Phœbus bids the day be born</p> + <p>And savoury odours greet the Sabbath morn,</p> + <p>Calling to Jane to bring the bacon in,</p> + <p>Shall I bespread thee, marvellously thin,</p> + <p>But ah! how toothsome! while my offspring barge</p> + <p>Into the cheap but uninspiring marge,</p> + <p>While James, our youngest (spoilt), proceeds to cram</p> + <p>His ample crop with plum and rhubarb jam.</p> + <p>No more when twilight fades from tower and tree</p> + <p>Shall I conceal what still remains of thee</p> + <p>Lest that the housemaid or, perchance, the cat</p> + <p>Should mischief thee, imponderable pat.</p> + <p>Ah, mine no more! for lo! 'tis noised around</p> + <p>How thou wilt soon cost seven bob a pound.</p> + <p>As well demand thy weight in radium</p> + <p>As probe my 'poverished poke for such a sum.</p> + <p>Wherefore, farewell! No more, alas! thou'lt oil</p> + <p>These joints that creak with unrewarded toil;</p> + <p>No more thy heartsick votary's midmost riff</p> + <p>Wilt lubricate, and, oh! (as <font class="sc">Wordsworth</font> says) the diff!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i16"><font class="sc">Algol.</font></p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"PUNCH" ON THE SCREEN.</h2> + + <p>Mr. Punch begs to inform the Public that he has prepared for their + entertainment twelve sets of Lantern Slides reproducing his most famous + Cartoons and Pictures (five of the sets deal with the Great War), and + that they may be hired, along with explanatory Lectures, and, if desired, + a Lantern and Operator, on application to Messrs. E.G. <font + class="sc">Wood</font>, 2, Queen Street, Cheapside, E.C., to whom all + inquiries as to terms should be addressed.</p> + +<hr /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"When he endeavoured to put the man out the Alderman was chucked under + the paw. He drove straight to the barracks, informed the police of what + had occurred, and having met his assailant on the road near by, he was + placed under arrest."—<i>Irish Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>The Alderman seems to have had a rough time all through.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" id="page71"></a>[pg 71]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/068.png"><img width="100%" src="images/068.png" + alt="" /></a> + <h3>ROUGE GAGNE—</h3> + + <p class="center">MAIS LA SÉANCE N'EST PAS ENCORE TERMINÉE.</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" id="page73"></a>[pg 73]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/069.png"><img width="100%" src="images/069.png" + alt="" /></a> + <p><i>Newly-crowned Cotton King</i> (<i>with the plovers' eggs</i>). + "<font class="sc">'Ere, my lad, take these darn things away. They're + 'ard-boiled and absolutely stone-cold</font>."</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h2>THE MOO-COW.</h2> + + <p>I was getting so tired of the syncopated life of town (and it didn't + fit in with my present literary work) that I bribed my old pal Hobson to + exchange residences with me for six months, with option; so now he has my + flat in town, complete with Underground Railway and street noises (to say + nothing of jazz music wherever he goes), and I have his country cottage, + old-fashioned and clean, and a perfectly heavenly silence to listen to. + Still, there <i>are</i> noises, and their comparative infrequency makes + them the more noticeable. There is, for instance, a cow that bothers me + more than a little. It has chosen, or there has been chosen, for its day + nursery a field adjoining my (really Hobson's) garden. It has selected a + spot by the hedge, almost under the study window, as a fit and proper + place for its daily round of mooing.</p> + + <p>Possibly this was at Hobson's request. Perhaps he likes the sound of + mooing, or, conceivably, the cow doesn't like Hobson, and moos to annoy + him. But surely it cannot mistake me for him. We are not at all alike. He + is short and dark; I am tall and fair. This has given rise to a question + in my mind: Can cows distinguish between human beings?</p> + + <p>Anyway the cow worries me with its continual fog-horn, and I thought I + would write to the owner (a small local dairy-farmer) to see if he could + manage to find another field in which to batten this cow, where it could + moo till it broke its silly tonsils for all I should care; so I indited + this to him:—</p> + + <p><font class="sc">My dear Sir</font>,—You have in your entourage + a cow that is causing me some annoyance. It is one of those red-and-white + cows (an Angora or Pomeranian perhaps; I don't know the names of the + different breeds, being a town mouse), and it has horns of which one is + worn at an angle of fifteen or twenty degrees higher than the other. This + may help you to identify it. It possesses, moreover, a moo which is a + blend between a ship's siren and a taxicab's honk syringe. If you haven't + heard either of these instruments you may take my word for them. Further, + I think it may really assist you if I describe its tail. The last two + feet of it have become unravelled, and the upper part is red, with a + white patch where the tail is fastened on to the body.</p> + + <p>It is only the moo part of the cow that is annoying me; I like the + rest of it. I am engaged in writing a book on the Dynamic Force of Modern + Art, and a solo on the Moo does not blend well with such labour as + mine.</p> + + <p>There are hens here at Hillcroft. This remark may seem irrelevant, but + not if you read on. Every time one of these hens brings + five-pence-halfpenny worth of egg into the world it makes a noise + commensurate with this feat. But I contend that even if your cow laid an + egg every time it moos (which it doesn't, so far as my survey reveals) + its idiotic bellowing would still be out of all proportion to the + achievement. Even milk at a shilling a quart scarcely justifies such + assertiveness.</p> + + <p>My friend Mr. Hobson may, of course, have offended the animal in + question, but even so I cannot see why I should have to put up with its + horrible revenge; which brings me to the real and ultimate reason for + troubling you, and that is, to ask you if you will be so good as to tell + the cow to desist, and, in case of its refusal, to <span + class="pagenum"><a name="page74" id="page74"></a>[pg 74]</span> remove it + to other quarters. If the annoyance continues I cannot answer for the + consequences.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Thanking you in anticipation,</p> + <p class="i4">I am, Yours faithfully,</p> + <p class="i6"> <font class="sc">Arthur K. Wilkinson.</font></p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>The reply ran:—</p> + + <p><font class="sc">Deer Sir</font>,—i am not a scollard and can't + understand more'n 'alf your letter if you don't lik my cow why not go + back were you cum from i dunno what you mean by consequences but if you + lay 'ands on my cow i'll 'ave the lor of you.</p> + + <p>Yours obedient <font class="sc">Henry Gibbs</font>.</p> + + <p>I felt that I hadn't got off very well with Henry, and thought I would + try again, so wrote:—</p> + + <p><font class="sc">Dear Mr. Gibbs</font>,—Thank you so much for + your too delightful letter. I am afraid you somewhat misapprehended the + purport of mine. I freely admit your right to turn all manner of beasts + into your demesne; equally do I concede to them the right to play upon + such instruments as Nature has handed out to them; but I also claim the + right to be allowed to carry on my work undisturbed. The consequences + would be to me, not to the cow, unless laryngitis supervenes. I love + cows, and I greatly admire this particular cow, but not its moo; that is + all.</p> + + <p>Is it, do you suppose, uttering some Jeremiad or prophecy? Can it, for + example, be foretelling the doom of the middle classes? Or is it possible + that our noisy friend is uttering a protest against some injurious + treatment received from its master?</p> + + <p>I have discovered that our daily supply of milk is supplied by your + herd, and on inquiry I find that our cook is not at all confident that a + quart of the same as delivered to us would satisfy the requirements of + the Imperial standard of measurement.</p> + + <p>If the animal's fog-horn continues I shall take it as an indignant + protest against a slight that has been cast on its fertility, and shall + seriously think of calling in the Food-Inspector to examine you in the + table of liquid measure.</p> + + <p>Delightful weather we have been experiencing, have we not?</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Believe me as ever, dear Mr. Gibbs,</p> + <p class="i6"> Yours most sincerely,</p> + <p class="i10"> <font class="sc">Arthur K. Wilkinson</font>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>I do not know how much my correspondent understood of this letter, + but, as the moo-cow was shortly afterwards relegated to fresh pastures, + and as we are getting decidedly better measure for our milk money, I + gather that he had enough intelligence for my purposes.</p> + + <p>The threat which I thus put at a venture may be recommended to anyone + suffering from the moo nuisance.</p> + +<hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/070.png"><img width="100%" src="images/070.png" + alt="" /></a> + <h3>USES OF A TUBE NUISANCE.</h3> + </div> +<hr /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"The serious loss to D'Annunzio recently of 300,000 lire, through the + disappearance of his cashier, has had a happy sequel. The airman-poet has + received a like amount from a rich Milanese lady. The donor remains + incognito."—<i>Evening Standard.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>It was very clever of the lady to disguise herself as an unknown + man.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE NEW SUBTRACTION.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>By a middle-class Martyr.</i>)</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4"><font class="sc">Euclid</font> is gone, dethroned,</p> + <p class="i4">By dominies disowned,</p> + <p>And modern physicists, Judæo-Teuton,</p> + <p class="i4">Finding strange kinks in space,</p> + <p class="i4">Swerves in light's arrowy race,</p> + <p>Make havoc of the theories of <font class="sc">Newton</font>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">Yet, mid this general wreck,</p> + <p class="i4">These blows dealt in the neck</p> + <p>Of authors of established reputation,</p> + <p class="i4">Four methods unassailed</p> + <p class="i4">Endured and never failed</p> + <p>To guide our arithmetic calculations.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">But now at last new rules</p> + <p class="i4">Are used in "Council Schools"</p> + <p>In consequence of Governmental action;</p> + <p class="i4">And newspapers abound</p> + <p class="i4">In praise of the profound</p> + <p>Importance of the so-called "New Subtraction."</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">New, maybe, but too well</p> + <p class="i4">I know its influence fell;</p> + <p>The "new subtraction" (which <i>I</i> suffer under)</p> + <p class="i4">From what I earn or save</p> + <p class="i4">By toiling like a slave</p> + <p>Is just a euphemistic name for plunder.</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"At Richmond a discharged soldier was charged with stealing a pillow, + valued at 7/6, the property of the Government.... The prisoner, who had a + clean sheet, was fined 40/-."—<i>Local Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>We can understand his wanting a fresh pillow to go with his clean + sheet.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" id="page75"></a>[pg 75]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/071.png"><img width="100%" src="images/071.png" + alt="" /></a> + <div class="i16"> + <p><i>Golf Enthusiast</i> (<i>urging the merits of the game</i>). + "—<font class="sc">and, besides, it's so good for + you</font>."</p> + + <p><i>Unbeliever.</i> "<font class="sc">So is cod-liver + oil</font>."</p> + </div> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h3>GOLDEN GEESE.</h3> + + <p>The London University Correspondent of <i>The Observer</i> has been + deploring the fact that a number of professors and lecturers have lately + resigned their poorly-paid academic positions in order to take up + commercial and industrial posts at much higher salaries. Among the + instances he cites is that of a Professor of Chemistry at King's College, + who has been appointed Director of Research to the British Cotton + Industry Research Association.</p> + + <p>The movement, which the writer denounces as bearing "too obvious an + analogy to the killing of the golden goose," is not however confined to + London University. From the great seats of learning all over the country + the same complaint is heard. We learn, for instance, that Mr. Angus + McToddie, until recently Professor of Physics at the John Walker + University, N.B., has vacated that post on his appointment as + Experimental Adviser to the British Constitutional Whisky Manufacturers' + Association.</p> + + <p>Past and present <i>alumni</i> of Tonypandy will learn with regret + that the University is to lose the services of its Professor of Live + Languages, Mr. O. Evans, who is about to assume the responsible and + highly-remunerated position of Director of Research to the Billingsgate + Fishporters' Self-Help Society.</p> + + <p>The Egregius Professor of Ancient History at Giggleswick University + will shortly take up his duties as Editor of <i>Chestnuts</i>, the new + comic weekly.</p> + + <p>Professor Ernest Grubb, who for many years has adorned the Chair of + Entomology at Durdleham, is about to enter the dramatic sphere as + stage-manager to a well-known troupe of performing insects.</p> + + <p>Another recruit to Stage enterprise is Professor Seymour Legge, who + has been appointed Chief Investigator to the Beauty Chorus Providers' + Corporation. Mr. Legge was formerly Professor of Comparative Anatomy at + Ballycorp.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>SATURDAYS.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now has the soljer handed in his pack,</p> + <p class="i2">And "Peace on earth, goodwill to all" been sung;</p> + <p>I've got a pension and my ole job back—</p> + <p class="i2">Me, with my right leg gawn and half a lung;</p> + <p>But, Lord! I'd give my bit o' buckshee pay</p> + <p class="i2">And my gratuity in honest Brads</p> + <p>To go down to the field nex' Saturday</p> + <p class="i2">And have a game o' football with the lads.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>It's Saturdays as does it. In the week</p> + <p class="i2">It's not too bad; there's cinemas and things;</p> + <p>But I gets up against it, so to speak,</p> + <p class="i2">When half-day-off comes round again and brings</p> + <p>The smell o' mud an' grass an' sweating men</p> + <p class="i2">Back to my mind—there's no denying it;</p> + <p>There ain't much comfort tellin' myself then,</p> + <p class="i2">"Thank Gawd, I went <i>toot sweet</i> an' did my bit!"</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh, yes, I knows I'm lucky, more or less;</p> + <p class="i2">There's some pore blokes back there who played the game</p> + <p>Until they heard the whistle go, I guess,</p> + <p class="i2">For Time an' Time eternal. All the same</p> + <p>It makes me proper down at heart and sick</p> + <p class="i2">To see the lads go laughing off to play;</p> + <p>I'd sell my bloomin' soul to have a kick—</p> + <p class="i2">But what's the good of talkin', anyway?</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"If we were suddenly to be deprived of the fast underground train, and + presented with a sparse service of steam trains in sulphurous tunnels, + the result on our tempers and the rate of our travelling would + be—well, electric!"—<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>We have tried to think of a less appropriate word than "electric," but + have failed miserably.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" id="page76"></a>[pg 76]</span> + +<h2>THE RIDING LESSON.</h2> + + <p>Phillida arrived up to time with her suit-case, a riding-crop and a + large copy of <font class="sc">D'Aulnoy's</font> <i>Fairy Tales</i>. She + was not very communicative as we drove out, and I sought to draw her. You + never, by the way, talk down to Phillida. Personally, I don't believe in + talking down to any child; but to employ this method with Phillida is to + court disaster.</p> + + <p>"Pleasant journey?" I inquired casually, flicking Rex's ear.</p> + + <p>"'M," responded Phillida in the manner of a child sucking sweets. + Phillida was not sucking sweets, and I accepted my snub. We drove on for + a bit in silence. Phillida removed her hat, and her bobbed hair went all + round her head like a brown busby. I looked round and was embarrassed to + find the straight grey eyes fixed on my face, the expression in them + almost rapturous.</p> + + <p>"Jolly country, isn't it?" I essayed hurriedly, with a comprehensive + wave of my whip.</p> + + <p>The preoccupied "'M" was repeated with even less emphasis.</p> + + <p>Another protracted silence. I decided not to interfere with the course + of nature as manifested in one small grey-eyed maiden of eight. Presently + there burst from her ecstatically, "Uncle Dick, is this the one I'm going + to ride?" So that was it. From that moment we got on splendidly. We + discussed, agreed and disagreed over breeds, paces, sizes. I told her the + horse she would ride would be twice the size of Rex, and she nearly fell + out of the trap when I said we might go together that very afternoon.</p> + + <p>"I've not learned to gallop," she remarked with some reluctance; "but + of course you could teach me."</p> + + <p>I had only heard the vaguest rumours of her riding experience, and she + was very mysterious about it herself. However, when she came downstairs + at the appointed time, in her brown velvet jockey-cap, top-boots, + breeches and gloves complete, she looked so determined and efficient I + felt reassured.</p> + + <p>I had to make holes in the stirrup leathers eleven inches higher than + the top one of all before she could touch the irons; but she settled into + the saddle with great firmness and we were off without any fuss. Once on + a horse, she had no difficulty in maintaining a perfect continuity of + speech, and I soon felt relieved of all anxiety about her safety. If she + was not an old and practised hand, she had nerve and balance, and I did + not think fit to produce the leading rein which I had smuggled into my + pocket.</p> + + <p>We trotted a perfect three miles, and she had an eye to the country + and a word to say about all she saw. When we turned to come back, I felt + Brimstone make his usual spurt forward, but I was not prepared for + Treacle's sudden break away. He was off like a rocket. That small child's + cap was flung across my eyes in a sudden gust. I had retrieved it in a + second, but it was time lost, and, by Jove! she was out of sight round a + bend. I followed after, might and main, but the racket of Brimstone's + hoofs only sent Treacle flying faster. I caught sight of the small figure + leaning back, the bright hair flying. Then they were gone again. My heart + beat very fast. "She had never learned to gallop!" At every bend I hardly + dared to look for what I might find. I knew Treacle, once started, would + dash for home. If the child could only stick it, all might be well. I + pounded along, and after a two-mile run I came on them. She had pulled + him in and was walking him, waiting for me, a little turned in the + saddle, one minute hand resting lightly on his broad back. She was + prettily flushed, her hair blown, but she hadn't even lost her crop.</p> + + <p>"Did you stop to get my cap?" she said as we came up. "Thanks + awfully."</p> + + <p>I wanted to hug the little thing, but her dignity forbade any such + exhibition.</p> + + <p>The only other reference to the afternoon's experience was on a + postcard I happened to see written the same night, addressed to her + mother.</p> + + <p>"<font class="sc">Darling Bee</font>" (it ran in very large baby + characters),—"I had the most adorable ride to-day I ever had. I + learned to galup all by myself. I thaut at first the horse was running + away with me, but Uncle Dick soon caut me up. He had my cap.</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Your loving</p> + <p class="i6"><font class="sc">Phillida</font>."</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>I only hope that Isabel will think it was all just as deliberate as + that.</p> + +<hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/072.png"><img width="100%" src="images/072.png" + alt="" /></a> + <h3>BEHIND THE SCENES IN CINEMA-LAND.</h3> + + <p>"<font class="sc">You needn't be a bit nervous about handling the + child, me lad. It's not a real one.</font>"</p> + </div> +<hr /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"The Ashton-under-Lyne fight is beginning, and <i>The Daily News</i> + comes forward to-day with the suggestion that the Liberal candidate + should withdraw.</p> + + <p>The practical effect of the candidature of a Liebral may be only to + reduce the Labour majority....</p> + + <p>In such circumstances we think it matter for great regret that there + should be any Libtral candilature....</p> + + <p>Upon this the comment at the Liberal headquarters to-day was, 'Well, + it is a little difficult to know just where we are, isn't + it?'"—<i>Evening Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>Yes, or <i>what</i> we are, for that matter.</p> + +<hr /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"<font class="sc">Gilbert-Sullivan Operas</font>.</p> + + <p>Friday, 'Trial by July.'"—<i>Provincial Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>It seems a long remand.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<h4>Journalistic Camaraderie.</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p>"The whole of this preliminary business is nauseating, and in + <i>real</i> sporting circles it is taboo as a topic of conversation. No + wonder <i>The Times</i> devoted a leading article to the matter the other + day."—<i>Daily Mail.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>How these <font class="sc">Northcliffe</font> journals love one + another!</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page77" id="page77"></a>[pg 77]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/073.png"><img width="100%" src="images/073.png" + alt="" /></a> + <p><i>P.C.</i> (<i>referring to notes</i>). "<font class="sc">I told + 'er she would be reported, your worship, to which she replied, 'Go + ahead, my cheery little sunbeam</font>!'"</p> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h3>MORE CHAMPIONSHIPS.</h3> + + <p>The sporting public is so intrigued by the prospect of a <font + class="sc">Dempsey-Carpentier</font> match that other impending + championship events are in danger of being forgotten.</p> + + <p>The present position in the challenge for the World's Halma + Championship is this. Mr. George P. Henrun is patriotically endeavouring + to secure the contest for Britain, and to that end has put up a purse of + half-a-guinea. The Société Halma de Bordeaux has cut in with a firm offer + of twenty-two francs, and the matter now remains in abeyance while + financial advisers calculate the rate of exchange in order to ascertain + which proposal is the more advantageous. The challenger, of course, is + Tommy Jupes, aged twelve, of Ashby-de-la-Zouche. His opponent, the + champion, has an advantage of three years in age and two inches in reach, + but the strategy of Master Jupes is said to be irresistible. Only last + week he overwhelmed his mother, herself a scratch player, when conceding + her four men and the liberty to cheat twice.</p> + + <p>The public will be thrilled to hear that a match has now been arranged + between the two lady aspirants for the World's Patience Championship, + <i>viz.</i>, Miss Tabitha Templeman, of Bath, and Miss Priscilla J. + Jarndyce, of Washington. To meet the territorial prejudices of both + ladies the contest will take place in mid-Atlantic, on a liner. There + will be no seconds, but Miss Templeman will be accompanied by the pet + Persian, which she always holds in her lap while playing, and Miss + Jarndyce will bring with her the celebrated foot-warmer which is + associated with her greatest triumphs. The vexed question of the + allocation of cinema royalties has been settled through the tact of Mr. + Manketlow Spefforth, author of <i>Patience for the Impatient</i>. One + lady wanted the royalties to be devoted to a Home for Stray Cats, and the + other expressed a desire to benefit the Society for the Preservation of + Wild Bird Life. Mr. Spefforth's happy compromise is that the money shall + be assigned to the Fund in aid of Distressed Spinsters.</p> + + <p>Bert Hawkins, of Whitechapel, has expressed his willingness, on + suitable terms, to meet T'gumbu, the powerful Matabele, in a twenty-ball + contest for the World's Cokernut-Shying Championship. There is however a + deadlock over details. T'gumbu's manager is adamant that the match shall + take place in his nominee's native village of Mpm, but Mr. Hawkins + objects, seeing little chance of escaping alive after the victory of + which he is so confident. He says he would "feel more safer like on + 'Ampstead 'Eaf." Another difficulty is that Mr. Hawkins insists on + wearing his <i>fiancée's</i> headgear while competing, and this is + regarded by T'gumbu as savouring of witchcraft. Mr. Hawkins generously + offers his opponent permission to wear any article of his wives' + clothing; but the coloured candidate quite reasonably retorts that this + concession is practically valueless. On one point fortunately there is + unaniminity: both parties are firm that all bad nuts must be + replaced.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>Another Asian Mystery.</h4> + + <p>"<font class="sc">Old and Rare Paintings</font>. Exquisite works of + old Indian art. Mytholo-Roast Beef or Pork: Bindaloo Sausages gical, + Historical, Mediæval."—<i>Englishman</i> (<i>Calcutta</i>).</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"Two capable young gentlemen desire Posts in good families as + Companions, ladies or children; mending, hairdressing, decorations; + willing to travel; in or near London."—<i>Daily Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>What did <i>they</i> do in the Great War?</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"One of the exquisite features was the presence of the Deacon's wives. + We had 83 upon our Roll of Honour, and of these 36 turned + up."—<i>Parish Magazine.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>The other forty-seven being presumably engaged in looking after the + Deacon.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"In addition to the fine work done by the Irish regiments he assured + them that many a warm Irish heart beat under a Scottish + kilt."—<i>Local Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>Surely Irishmen enlisted in Scottish regiments are not so down-hearted + as all that!</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page78" id="page78"></a>[pg 78]</span> + +<h2>THE TALE OF THE TUNEFUL TUB.</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p>["Why do so many people sing in the bathroom?... The note is struck + for them by the running water. While the voice sounds resonantly in the + bath-room it is not half so fine and inspiring when the song is continued + in the dressing-room. The reason is that the furniture of the + dressing-room tends to deaden the reverberations."—<i>Prof. <font + class="sc">W.H. Bragg</font> on "The World of Sound."</i>]</p> + + </blockquote> + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When to my morning tub I go,</p> + <p class="i2">With towel, dressing-gown and soap,</p> + <p>Then most, the while I puff and blow,</p> + <p>My soul with song doth overflow</p> + <p class="i2">(Not unmelodiously, I hope).</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The plashing of the H. and C.</p> + <p class="i2">Castalian stimulus affords;</p> + <p>I reach with ease an upper G</p> + <p>And, like the wild swan, carol free</p> + <p class="i2">The gamut of my vocal chords.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And when, my pure ablutions o'er,</p> + <p class="i2">The larynx fairly gets to work,</p> + <p>Amid the unplugged water's roar</p> + <p>I caper, trolling round the floor,</p> + <p class="i2">In tones as rich as <font class="sc">Thomas Burke</font>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But in my dressing-room's retreat</p> + <p class="i2">My native wood-notes wilt and sag;</p> + <p>Not there those raptures I repeat;</p> + <p>My bellow now becomes a bleat</p> + <p class="i2">(For reasons, ask Professor <font class="sc">Bragg</font>).</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>So, Ruth, if song may find a path</p> + <p class="i2">Still through thy heart, be listening by</p> + <p>The bathroom while I take my bath;</p> + <p>But leave before the aftermath,</p> + <p class="i2">Nor while I'm dressing linger nigh.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>On the acoustic side, I fear,</p> + <p class="i2">My chest of drawers is quite a "dud;"</p> + <p>The chairs would silence Chanticleer,</p> + <p>Nor would I have you overhear</p> + <p class="i2">When I have lost my collar-stud.</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>BOOKS AND BACKS.</h2> + + <p>The proposal to revive the old "yellow back" cover for novels, partly + in the interest of economy in production, partly to attract the purchaser + by the lure of colour, has caused no little stir in the literary world. + In order to clarify opinion on the subject Mr. Punch has been at pains to + secure the following expressions of their views from some of the leading + authors of both sexes:—</p> + + <p>Mr. J.M. <font class="sc">Keynes</font>, C.B., the author of the most + sensational book of the hour, contributed some interesting observations + on the economics of the dye industry and their bearing on the question. + These we are reluctantly obliged to omit. We may note however his general + conclusion that the impact on the public mind of a book often varies in + an inverse ratio with the attractiveness of its appearance or its title. + At the same time he admits that if he had called his momentous work + <i>The Terrible Treaty</i>, and if it had been bound in a rainbow cover + with a Cubist design, its circulation might have been even greater than + it actually is. But then, as he candidly owns, "as a Cambridge man, I may + be inclined to attach an undue importance to 'Backs.'"</p> + + <p>Mr. <font class="sc">Frederic Harrison</font> writes: "<font + class="sc">Matt. Arnold</font> once chaffed me for keeping a guillotine + in my back-garden. But my real colour was never sea-green in politics any + more than it is yellow in literature or journalism. Yet I have a great + tenderness for the old yellow-backs of fifty years ago. Yellow Books are + another story. The yellow-backs may have sometimes affronted the eye, but + for the most part they were dove-like in their outlook. Now 'red ruin and + the breaking-up of laws' flaunt themselves in the soberest livery. I do + not often drop into verse, but this inversion of the old order has + suggested these lines, which you may care to print:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"'In an age mid-Victorian and mellow,</p> + <p class="i2">Ere the current of life ran askew,</p> + <p>The backs of our novels were yellow,</p> + <p class="i2">Their hearts were of Quaker-like hue;</p> + <p>But now, when extravagant lovers</p> + <p class="i2">Their hectic emotions parade,</p> + <p>In sober or colourless covers</p> + <p class="i2">We find them arrayed.'"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>Mr. <font class="sc">Charles Garvice</font> points out that the choice + of colour in bindings calls for especial care and caution at the present + time, owing to the powerful influence of association. Yellow might lend + impetus to the Yellow Peril. Red is especially to be avoided owing to its + unfortunate appropriation by Revolutionary propagandists. Blue, though + affected by statisticians and Government publishers, has a traditional + connection with the expression of sentiments of an antinomian and + heterodox character. At all costs the sobriety and dignity of fiction + should be maintained, and sparing use should be made of the brighter hues + of the spectrum. He had forgotten a good deal of his Latin, but there + still lingered in his memory the old warning: "<i>O formose puer, nimium + ne crede colori</i>."</p> + + <p>Miss <font class="sc">Daisy Ashford</font>, another of our "best + sellers," demurs to the view that a gaudy or garish exterior is needed to + catch the public eye. The enlightened child-author scorned such devices. + Books, like men and women—especially women—ought not to be + judged by their backs, but by their hearts. She confessed, however, to a + weakness for "jackets" as a form of attire peculiarly consecrated to + youth.</p> + + <p>Madame <font class="sc">Montessori</font> cables from Rome as + follows:—"The colour of book-covers is of vital importance in + education. I wish to express my strong conviction that, where books for + the young are concerned, no action should be taken by publishers without + holding an unfettered plébiscite of all children under twelve. Also that + the polychromatic series of Fairy Stories edited by the late Mr. <font + class="sc">Andrew Lang</font> should be at once withdrawn from + circulation, not only because of the reckless and unscientific colour + scheme adopted, but to check the wholesale dissemination of futile fables + concocted and invented by irresponsible adults of all ages and + countries."</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>SONGS OF THE HOME.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i8">III.—THE GUEST.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I have a friend; his name is John;</p> + <p>He's nothing much to dote upon,</p> + <p class="i2">But, on the whole, a pleasant soul</p> + <p>And, like myself, no paragon.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I have a house, and, then again,</p> + <p>An extra room to take a guest;</p> + <p class="i2">And in my house I have a spouse.</p> + <p>It's good for me; I don't protest.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>By her is every virtue taught;</p> + <p>Man does as he is told, and ought;</p> + <p class="i2">He has to eat his own conceit,</p> + <p>So, "Just the place for John!" I thought.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The unsuspecting guest arrives;</p> + <p>But (note the worthlessness of wives)</p> + <p class="i2">Does he endure the kill-or-cure</p> + <p>Refining process? No, he thrives.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He's led to think that he has got</p> + <p>The very virtues I have not;</p> + <p class="i2">Her every phrase is subtle praise</p> + <p>And oh! how he absorbs the lot.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She finds his wisdom full of wit</p> + <p>And listens to no end of it;</p> + <p class="i2">And if he dash tobacco-ash</p> + <p>On carpets doesn't mind a bit.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>All that the human frame requires,</p> + <p>From flattery to bedroom fires,</p> + <p class="i2">Is his; and I must self-deny</p> + <p>To satisfy his least desires.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I have a friend; his name is John;</p> + <p>I tell him he is "getting on"</p> + <p class="i2">And "growing fat," and things like that....</p> + <p>He pays no heed. He's too far gone.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i16"><font class="sc">Henry</font>.</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"<font class="sc">Pupils</font> wanted for Pianoforte and + Theory.—J.G. Peat, Dyer and Cleaner."—<i>New Zealand + Herald.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>"That strain again! It had a dying fall."—<i>Twelfth Night</i>, + Act I., Sc. 1, 4.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <blockquote> + <p>"The lowest grade of porter is the grade from which railway employees + in the traffic departments gravitate to higher positions."—<i>Daily + Paper.</i></p> + + </blockquote> + <p>The <font class="sc">Einstein</font> theory is beginning to capture + our journalists.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There was a Society Sinner</p> + <p>Who no longer was asked out to dinner;</p> + <p class="i6">This proof of his guilt</p> + <p class="i6">So caused him to wilt</p> + <p>That he's now emigrated to Pinner.</p> + </div> + </div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" id="page79"></a>[pg 79]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/075.png"><img width="100%" src="images/075.png" + alt="" /></a> + <div class="i16"> + <h3>MORE ADVENTURES OF A POST-WAR SPORTSMAN.</h3> + + <p><i>Post-War Sportsman.</i>"<font class="sc">Wot's the + matter</font>?"</p> + + <p><i>Mrs. P.-W.S.</i>"<font class="sc">When I want him to jump the + fence he just stops and eats it. What am I to do</font>?"</p> + + <p><i>P.-W.S.</i> "<font class="sc">Come along wi' me, my dear; I'll + show you. 'E can't eat a gate.</font>"</p> + </div> + </div> +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</p> + + <p>In the war-after-the-war, the bombardment of books that is now so + violently raging upon all fronts, any contribution by a writer as eminent + as Lord <font class="sc">Haldane</font> naturally commands the respect + due to weapons of the heaviest calibre. Unfortunately "heavy" is here an + epithet unkindly apt, since it has to be admitted that the noble lord + wields a pen rather philosophic than popular, with the result that + <i>Before the War</i> (<font class="sc">Cassell</font>) tells a story of + the highest interest in a manner that can only be called ponderous. Our + ex-War Minister is, at least chiefly, responding to the literary + offensives of <font class="sc">Bethmann-Hollweg</font> and <font + class="sc">Tirpitz</font>, in connection with whose books his should be + read, if the many references are properly to be understood. As every + reader will know, however, Lord <font class="sc">Haldane</font> could + hardly have delivered his apologia before the accuser without the gates + and not at the same time had an eye on the critic within. Fortunately it + is here no part of a reviewer's task to obtrude his own political + theories. With regard to the chief indictment, of having permitted the + country to be taken unawares, the author betrays his legal training by a + defence which is in effect (1) that circumstances compelled our being so + taken, and that (2) we weren't. On this and other matter, however, the + individual reader, having paid his money (7<i>s</i>. 6<i>d</i>. net), + remains at liberty to take his choice. One revelation at least emerges + clearly enough from Lord <font class="sc">Haldane's</font> + pages—the danger of playing diplomat to a democracy. "Extremists, + whether Chauvinist or Pacifist, are not helpful in avoiding wars" is one + of many conclusions, double-edged perhaps, to which he is led by + retrospect of his own trials. His book, while making no concessions to + the modern demand for vivacity, is one that no student of the War and its + first causes can neglect.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>It is not Mr. <font class="sc">L. Cope Cornford's</font> fault that + his initials are identical with those of the London County Council, nor + do I consider it to be mine that his rather pontifical attitude towards + men and matters reminds me of that august body. Anyone ignorant of recent + inventions might be excused for thinking that <i>The Paravane + Adventure</i> (<font class="sc">Hodder and Stoughton</font>) is the title + of a stirring piece of sensational fiction. But fiction it is not, though + in some of its disclosures it may be considered sensational enough. In + this history of the invention of the Paravane Mr. <font + class="sc">Cornford</font> hurls a lot of well-directed bricks at + Officialdom, and concludes his book by giving us his frank opinion of the + way in which the Navy ought to be run. It is impossible, even if one does + not subscribe to all his ideas, to refrain from commending the enthusiasm + with which he writes of those who, in spite of great difficulties, set to + work to invent and perfect the Paravane. If you don't know what a + Paravane is I have neither the space nor the ability to tell you; but Mr. + <font class="sc">Cornford</font> has, and it's all in the book.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>A stray paragraph in a contemporary, to the effect that the portrait + of the heroine and the story of her life in Baroness <font class="sc">von + Hutten's</font> <i>Happy House</i> (<font class="sc">Hutchinson</font>) + is a transcript of actual fact, saves me from the indiscretion of <span + class="pagenum"><a name="page80" id="page80"></a>[pg 80]</span> declaring + that I found <i>Mrs. Walbridge</i> and her egregious husband and the + general situation at Happy House frankly incredible. Pleasantly + incredible, I should have added; and I rather liked the young man, + <i>Oliver</i>, from Fleet Street, whom the Great Man had recently made + Editor of <i>Sparks</i> and who realised that he was destined to be a + titled millionaire, for is not that the authentic procedure? Hence his + fanatical obstinacy in wooing his, if you ask me, none too desirable + bride. I hope I am not doing the author a disservice in describing this + as a thoroughly wholesome book, well on the side of the angels. It has + the air of flowing easily from a practised pen. But nothing will induce + me to believe that <i>Mrs. Walbridge</i>, putting off her Victorian airs, + did win the prize competition with a novel in the modern manner.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Mr. <font class="sc">Alexander Macfarlan's</font> new story, <i>The + Inscrutable Lovers</i> (<font class="sc">Heinemann</font>), is not the + first to have what one may call Revolutionary Ireland for its background, + but it is by all odds the most readable, possibly because it is not in + any sense a political novel. It is in characters rather than events that + the author interests himself. A highly refined, well-to-do and extremely + picturesque Irish revolutionary, whom the author not very happily + christens <i>Count Kettle</i>, has a daughter who secretly abhors romance + and the high-falutin sentimentality that he and his circle mistake for + patriotism. To her father's disgust she marries an apparently staid and + practical young Scotch ship-owner, who at heart is a confirmed romantic. + The circumstances which lead to their marriage and the subsequent events + which reveal to each the other's true temperament provide the "plot" of + <i>The Inscrutable Lovers</i>. Though slender it is original and might + lend itself either to farce or tragedy. Mr. <font + class="sc">Macfarlan's</font> attitude is pleasantly analytical. It is + indeed his delightful air of remote criticism, his restrained and + epigrammatic style queerly suggestive of <font class="sc">Romain + Roland</font> in <i>The Market Place</i>, and his extremely clever + portraiture, rather than any breadth or depth appertaining to the story + itself, that entitle the author to a high place among the young novelists + of to-day. Mr. <font class="sc">Macfarlan</font>—is he by any + chance the Rev. <font class="sc">Alexander Macfarlan</font>?—may + and doubtless will produce more formidable works of fiction in due + course; he will scarcely write anything smoother, more sparing of the + superfluous word or that offers a more perfect blend of sympathy and + analysis.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p><i>Susie</i> (<font class="sc">Duckworth</font>) is the story of a + minx or an exposition of the eternal feminine according to the reader's + own convictions. I am not sure—and I suppose that places me among + those who regard her heroine as the mere minx—that the Hon. Mrs. + <font class="sc">Dowdall</font> has done well in expending so much + cleverness in telling <i>Susie's</i> story. Certainly those who think of + marriage as a high calling, for which the vocation is love, will be as + much annoyed with her as was her cousin <i>Lucy</i>, the idealist, at + once the most amusing and most pathetic figure in the book. I am quite + sure that Susies and Lucys both abound, and that Mrs. <font + class="sc">Dowdall</font> knows all about them; but I am not equally sure + that the Susies deserve the encouragement of such a brilliant dissection. + Yet the men whose happiness she played with believed in <i>Susie's</i> + representation of herself as quite well-meaning, and other women who saw + through her liked her in spite of their annoyance; and—after all + the other things I have said—I am bound, in sincerity, to admit + that I liked her too.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>You could scarcely have given a novelist a harder case than to prove + the likeableness of <i>Cherry Mart</i>, as her actions show her in + <i>September</i> (<font class="sc">Methuen</font>), and I wonder how a + Victorian writer would have dealt with the terrible chit. But <font + class="sc">Frank Swinnerton</font>, of course, is able to hold these + astonishing briefs with ease. Here is a girl who first turns the head of + <i>Marian Forster's</i> middle-aged husband in a pure fit of + experimentalism, and then sets her cap with defiant malice at the young + man who seems likely to bring real love into the elder woman's life. And + yet <i>Marian</i> grows always fonder of her, and she, in the manner of a + wayward and naughty child, of <i>Marian</i>. Insolence and + <i>gaucherie</i> are on the one hand, coolness and finished grace on the + other, and, although there are several moments of hatred between the two, + their affection is the proper theme of the book. As for <i>Nigel</i>, he + is impetuous and handsome, and falls in love with <i>Marian</i> because + she is sympathetic, and with <i>Cherry</i> because she is <i>Cherry</i>, + and also perhaps a little because the War has begun and the day of youth + triumphant has arrived. But he does not make a very deep impression upon + me, and as for <i>Marian's</i> husband, who is big and rather stupid, and + always has been, I gather, a bit of a dog, he scarcely counts at all. + <i>Marian</i>, however, is an extremely clever and intricate study, and + for <i>Cherry</i>—I don't really know whether I like <i>Cherry</i> + or not. But I have certainly met her.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + + <p>Mr. Punch has pleasure in calling attention to two small volumes, + lately issued, which reproduce matter that has appeared in his pages and + therefore does not need any further token of his approbation: to wit, + <i>A Little Loot</i> (<font class="sc">Allen And Unwin</font>), by + Captain <font class="sc">E.V. Knox</font> ("<font + class="sc">Evoe</font>"); and <i>Staff Tales</i> (<font + class="sc">Constable</font>), by Captain <font class="sc">W.P. + Lipscomb</font>, M.C. ("L."), with illustrations, now first published, by + Mr. <font class="sc">H.M. Bateman</font>. Also to <i>A Zoovenir</i> + (Dublin: The Royal Zoological Society of Ireland), by Mr. <font + class="sc">Cyril Bretherton</font> ("<font class="sc">Algol</font>"), a + book of verses which have appeared elsewhere and are being sold for the + benefit of the Dublin Zoo.</p> + +<hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/076.png"><img width="100%" src="images/076.png" + alt="" /></a> + <p><i>The Fool.</i> "<font class="sc">Good master carpenter, I am in + great need of wit for tonight's feast. Hast thou any merry quip or + quaint conceit wherewith I might set the table in a roar?</font>"</p> + + <p><i>The Carpenter.</i> "<font class="sc">Nay, Master Fool, I have but + one which I fashioned myself with much labour. It goeth thus: 'When is + a door not a ——?'</font>"</p> + + <p><i>The Fool.</i>" <font class="sc">Enough! That Joke hath already + cost me two good situations.</font>"</p> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +158, January 28th, 1920, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 16281-h.htm or 16281-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/2/8/16281/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Keith Edkins and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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