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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147,
+August 19th, 1914, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, August 19th, 1914
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Owen Seaman
+
+Release Date: October 19, 2008 [EBook #26969]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, VOL. 147, AUG. 19, 1914 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  PUNCH,
+
+  OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+  VOLUME 147.
+
+  AUGUST 19th 1914.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: A QUICK CHANGE OF FRONT.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE NATURE OF A MORATORIUM.
+
+"It's a big ship" (I could overhear Ethel's voice through the open
+nursery window). "I know perfectly well it is. It's one of the
+Cunarders."
+
+"Well, you're quite wrong then," (this from Jack). "It was passed
+through Parliament. You can't pass a ship through Parliament."
+
+"It's the sister ship to the _Lusitania_--so there!"
+
+Joan's thoughtful voice intervened.
+
+"I can tell you what it is," she said. "It's a place for burying
+people--a sort of big tomb where they put dead kings. There's one at
+Windsor."
+
+Curiously enough I was myself at the moment rather puzzled as to what it
+was and how it worked.
+
+"Do you know, William," I said to my host, "that you are owing me ten
+pounds and I've got to get home to-day, and I've no money?"
+
+"Oh, but I shan't pay it now," he replied shamelessly.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I'm going to put a Moratorium on you. I don't know, of course, if
+that's quite the correct phrase. The thing is new to me. But at least I
+can see how it works. You had better try James. He owes you five, and he
+never reads the papers, so he may not have heard of it."
+
+I went at once into the library, where I found James making up a parcel
+of three half-sovereigns to send to his bank. No one is going to accuse
+James of hoarding gold.
+
+"About that fiver," I began.
+
+"Ah, yes. I was just coming out to talk to you about that before you
+went," said he. "Now that I'm sending all this stuff to the bank I'm
+just afraid I may be a bit short. I'll tell you what I think we ought to
+do, you and I, I think we ought to enter into a temporary Moratorium.
+All the best people are doing it. Of course I don't know if that's the
+right phrase. But I begin to see how it works."
+
+"It doesn't apply to sums under five pounds," said I severely.
+
+"That's true. I admit it's a pretty narrow squeak. I just managed to get
+on board, so to speak. Still, as the debt is five pounds----"
+
+"I'll take £4 19_s_. 11_d_.," said I, and held out my hand.
+
+"That's not playing the game," said James. "Can't you see you're going
+to encourage all sorts of panic if you go about reducing debts in that
+sort of way? What is to become of British credit if a man in your
+position shows himself willing to accept sweeping reductions for the
+sake of getting hold of cash? I'm just a little ashamed of you."
+
+"Well, I've got to get home to-day. The ticket costs over five pounds,
+and I've only got sixteen shillings."
+
+"Nothing simpler, my dear fellow," said James cheerfully. "You ask the
+booking-clerk for a ticket--pick it up--cover him with a Moratorium (if
+that's the proper phrase) and hop into the train. The sixteen bob will
+come in for tips."
+
+I went back to William and sat down. "The upshot of it is, William," I
+said, "that I can't go. You had better consider pretty carefully what
+you're doing. I don't think the Moratorium was intended to work in this
+sort of way. I've got to report myself at the War Office, and I can't
+go. You may think you're acting as a good citizen should. You may not be
+hoarding gold or hoarding food, but you are hoarding _me_."
+
+"It doesn't apply to National Insurance payments," said William
+brightly, "if that's any help to you."
+
+"It only goes on till the 4th of September," I reminded him, "and the
+bank rate was recently as high as ten per cent. and may easily go up
+again. You've got to pay interest on it, you know."
+
+That was where I had him. "How will you take it?" he asked, thrusting a
+hand into his pocket.
+
+"In new pound notes," said I.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+DIES IRAE.
+
+_To the GERMAN KAISER._
+
+  Amazing Monarch! who at various times,
+    Posing as Europe's self-appointed saviour,
+  Afforded copy for our ribald rhymes
+          By your behaviour;
+
+  We nursed no malice; nay, we thanked you much
+    Because your head-piece, swollen like a tumour,
+  Lent to a dullish world the needed touch
+          Of saving humour.
+
+  What with your wardrobes stuffed with warrior gear,
+    Your gander-step parades, your prancing Prussians,
+  Your menaces that shocked the deafened sphere
+          With rude concussions;
+
+  Your fist that turned the pinkest rivals pale
+    Alike with sceptre, chisel, pen or palette,
+  And could at any moment, gloved in mail,
+          Smite like a mallet;
+
+  Master of all the Arts, and, what was more,
+    Lord of the limelight blaze that let us know it--
+  You seemed a gift designed on purpose for
+          The flippant poet.
+
+  Time passed and put to these old jests an end;
+    Into our open hearts you found admission,
+  Ate of our bread and pledged us like a friend
+          Above suspicion.
+
+  You shared our griefs with seeming-gentle eyes;
+    You moved among us cousinly entreated,
+  Still hiding, under that fair outward guise,
+          A heart that cheated.
+
+  And now the mask is down, and forth you stand
+    Known for a King whose word is no great matter,
+  A traitor proved, for every honest hand
+          To strike and shatter.
+
+  This was the "Day" foretold by yours and you
+    In whispers here, and there with beery clamours--
+  You and your rat-hole spies and blustering crew
+          Of loud Potsdamers.
+
+  And lo, there dawns another, swift and stern,
+    When on the wheels of wrath, by Justice' token,
+  Breaker of God's own Peace, you shall in turn
+          Yourself be broken.
+
+    O. S.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A DETERMINED ISLAND.
+
+II.
+
+I continue this record of our daily lives at Totland Bay on August 12th.
+Before it appears in _Mr. Punch's_ columns great and decisive events may
+have happened, but at present, except for such slight distractions as I
+shall relate, we are still calm and peaceful. When we think or speak of
+Belgium our faces glow, and we are all resolved, should the need arise,
+to do as Belgium has done, and to do it in the same resolute and
+unconquerable spirit. In the meantime we rush for the newspapers with a
+constantly increasing eagerness. At about 11 A.M. the whole of Totland
+Bay is filled with people reading their papers in the open air.
+Everybody bumps into everybody else, but nobody minds. A gentleman the
+other day set out in a canoe and read the morning's news to a party of
+swimmers, who appeared to be much invigorated by what they heard.
+
+On Sunday night, just as we had finished dinner, we suddenly heard the
+report of a great gun from the fort at the Needles. The explosion was
+followed by three plaintive answering notes from a fog-horn. "They're
+firing at a ship," said someone, and out we all rushed to the nearest
+vantage-point, and even as we ran another gun went off and again the
+fog-horn answered with its bleat. The searchlights were striking great
+shafts of light along the Solent, and far away their beams outlined the
+shape of a big ship. She was still advancing on her course, when--Bang!
+another violent explosion shattered the night. This time it came from
+the fort just over the pier of Totland Bay. The echoes reverberated and
+rumbled, and the shot tore past close to the ship. Now she took the
+warning. There were no more appeals from the fog-horn. Slowly she turned
+and disappeared into the darkness. Possibly she had been at sea for a
+long time and knew nothing of the war. How she must have marvelled at
+this strange and dreadful welcome from the Isle of Wight. We went to our
+beds that night with a feeling of perfect security.
+
+On land, too, we have had our excitements. Yesterday afternoon, when the
+heather-clad slopes of Headon Hill were crowded with picnickers, there
+was a sudden alarm of spies. Some men, reported to have been conversing
+in German, were said to have been peering into cracks in the ground and
+otherwise behaving in a most suspicious manner. The alarm was given, and
+almost instantly, springing as it were from the very bowels of the
+earth, came some half-dozen soldiers running with rifles and fixed
+bayonets. Amid the shouts of the children they spread about the heather
+in their hunt, but nothing came of it, for the "spies," though they were
+caught, turned out to be some Italians resident in Totland Bay and
+fervently British in their sympathies.
+
+I mentioned last week that we had a children's maid, a German, in our
+household. Since then, in obedience to the Act, she has been registered
+as an "alien enemy." I took her by train to Newport for that purpose. On
+arriving at the station I hailed a fly. "Where to, Sir?" said the
+driver. "To the police-station," I answered, and the man broke out into
+a grin. "It isn't a serious offence," I added, but I doubt if he
+believed me. At the police-station, however, they were quite prepared
+for us, and in a very few minutes Maria Hasewitz--that is her eminently
+German name--had had all the particulars of her birth-place, her age,
+her height, and her personal appearance entered on a blue form by a
+jocose and affable sergeant. "Brown eyes, I _think_," said the sergeant;
+"height, five feet four inches; no beard _or_ moustache, ha-ha. Now sign
+here and make a mark with your left thumb in this space. That'll pin you
+down; no escape after that, ha-ha." He produced a board covered with
+some black sticky substance, dabbed her thumb in it, dabbed it hard on
+the paper, and, lo, Maria Hasewitz had been registered and had
+undertaken not to move five miles from Totland Bay without a special
+permit.
+
+At present this particular alien enemy is engaged, together with all the
+other available female members of the household, in making pyjamas for
+our soldiers. Wonderful deeds are being done all round me with scissors
+and needle and thread. A sewing-machine has been requisitioned.
+Button-holes are being manufactured with immense expedition. A good deal
+of "basting" is being got through. In my illimitable ignorance I had
+hitherto imagined that basting was something that you did to a joint of
+meat with a big ladle and some gravy. If you did it sufficiently the
+joint came out succulent, if not it became dry and you abused the
+butcher. However, we live and learn. Part, at any rate, of three suits
+of pyjamas that are to go to the Red Cross to-day has been severely and
+completely basted without either gravy or a ladle.
+
+    R. C. L.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: WELL MET!
+
+GREAT BRITAIN JOINS HER ALLIES IN THE FIELD.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CHARIVARIA.
+
+Even war has its humours. "In the midst of perfect peace the enemy
+surprises us," is a sentence from a proclamation not by the King of the
+BELGIANS but by the GERMAN KAISER.
+
+       ***
+
+WILHELM II. is said to be extremely annoyed in his capacity as a British
+Admiral that he is not being kept fully informed as to the movements of
+our Fleet.
+
+       ***
+
+The danger, of course, of a fondness for a place in the sun is that one
+may get burnt.
+
+       ***
+
+The coming generation would certainly seem to be all right. Even
+children are taking part in the fray. The Boy Scouts are helping
+manfully here, and at Liége the Germans, we are told, used nippers for
+cutting wire entanglements.
+
+       ***
+
+A vivid idea of the horrors of the return journey from the Continent to
+England after the declaration of war may be gained from the fact that a
+lady, in recounting her experiences in a contemporary, states that she
+was thankful to get back to Battersea.
+
+       ***
+
+General VILLA, it is stated, has now virtually proclaimed his
+independence of General CARRANZA, and hostilities are said to be
+imminent. We caution these gentlemen, however, that we are not prepared
+at this juncture to take a great deal of interest in their little war,
+and, if they take our advice, they will postpone it.
+
+       ***
+
+At the present moment, fortunately, one does not hear much of the sex
+war, but sex-pride compels us to draw attention to an account in _The
+Liverpool Echo_ of a recent agricultural show, from which we learn that
+"in a class for cows, in which there was a score of entries, Mr. S.
+Sanday won with pedigree dairy bulls."
+
+       ***
+
+The news that a large number of yachts had been placed at the disposal
+of the Admiralty was, no doubt, responsible for a statement in _The
+Birkenhead News_ of the 8th inst., to the effect that the Hoylake Town
+Band, consisting of Bavarians, in a moment of patriotic fervour during
+the crisis struck up "_Der Yacht am Rhein_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: _GERMAN KAISER._ "Donnerwetter! No wonder I've missed my
+appointment. The silly idiots have given me an 1870 time-table."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Overheard in the heather of a grouse moor:--"What ho! The Moratorium."
+
+       ***
+
+In feline circles it is being pointed out with some pride that not only
+are there Dogs of Wars but that Active Service Kits are being advertised
+very freely.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: AT THE OFFICIAL PRESS BUREAU.
+
+_MR. F. E. SMITH_ (_against his gallant instincts_). "Permit me, Madam."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"We, as a party," says Mr. KEIR HARDIE in _The Labour Leader_, "surely
+have a right to make a special protest against this altogether useless
+and unnecessary conflict." The KAISER'S address, KEIR, is Potsdam,
+Berlin (Germany).
+
+       ***
+
+We rejoice to hear that the thousand fresh herrings which a certain
+cosmopolitan financier purchased at the outbreak of the war to store up
+have one and all gone bad.
+
+       ***
+
+Paris now has a "Rue de Liége." And, in order to obviate any feeling of
+jealousy, a certain virulent microbe which has just been discovered by a
+Belgian scientist is, we hear, to be called the "Wilhelm Germ."
+
+       ***
+
+We trust that the Dutch are taking every precaution to protect the
+Palace of Peace at the Hague.
+
+       ***
+
+Brick-box, the Irish Guards' pet terrier, has been sent for the present
+to a dogs' home. In the event of their going abroad the Irish Guards
+hope to bring back with them a certain other dog who seems to have gone
+mad.
+
+       ***
+
+The British Isles have been defeated at Lawn Tennis, but we really
+shan't mind so long as we win the war.
+
+       ***
+
+"On shop after shop in Paris," says _The Evening News_, "is the notice,
+'Maison fermée à cante du de départ du patron et les employés sous les
+drapeaux Français.'" Sorry, _Evening News_, but we cannot believe your
+statement in its entirety. We are afraid you did not get it confirmed by
+the Official Press Bureau.
+
+       ***
+
+According to the St. Petersburg _Gazette_ the Germans have arrested the
+Grand Duke CONSTANTINE CONSTANTINOVITCH at Badwildungen. The Russian
+Government admits that the GRAND DUKE has published several volumes of
+verse.
+
+       ***
+
+According to a statement in _The Globe_ "the German liner, _Belgia_,
+having run short of coal, put in at Newport (Mon.) to-day, and was
+seized as a prize. She has over £250,000 worth of food on board,
+including 400 tons of cheese, 73 German reservists, and also a large
+amount of specie." The last two items must, of course, be regarded as
+emergency rations.
+
+       ***
+
+An unfortunate misprint:--
+
+"WAR NEWS IN A FEW LIES."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: THE MONOPOLIST.
+
+_Late Arrival_ (_wishing to put his machine in bicycle rack_). "WELL,
+UPON MY WORD, THIS IS PREPOSTEROUS! CADDIE, WHO PUT HIS BICYCLE LIKE
+THAT?"
+
+_Caddie._ "CAN'T SAY FOR SURE, SIR. THE KAISER, I SHOULD THINK."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HOW WAR IS "MADE IN GERMANY."
+
+(_Extract from the KAISER'S Diary._)
+
+Letter captured bearing mark of Venezuela Consulate at Berlin. Stamp not
+put on straight. Insult to me--therefore to the flag. Proceed to issue
+ultimatum to Venezuela. Venezuela omits to concede one of the 421 points
+raised. Declare war on Venezuela and publish address to my
+people:--"Owing to this wicked and determined challenge to Our nation,
+We have been forced, greatly against Our wish, into a quarrel with a
+powerful and designing enemy," etc., etc.
+
+Consignment of Chicago sausages, arriving Hamburg, is found to bear
+label "The Best." Deliberate blow at German supremacy. Germany is the
+Sausage Queen. Ultimatum to United States. Reply unsatisfactory, so
+declare war. Speech to my people:--"Owing to this wicked," etc.
+
+Despatch from Pomeranian farming district to effect that a Cochin-China
+hen has peaked at representation of German Eagle in picture-book. At
+once issued ultimatum to Cochin-China demanding humble and complete
+apology, otherwise war would be declared. Received immediate reply,
+stating that as Cochin-China belongs at present to France I may save
+myself the trouble of a fresh declaration of war. Do so.
+
+Read statement that "heat in neighbourhood of equator surpasses that of
+any other part of the world." See in this a direct challenge to our
+sovereignty. _We_ are the hottest stuff in the world. Declare war on all
+countries abutting on equator. Speech to my people:--"Owing to this
+wicked," etc.
+
+Hear South Pole Republic showing signs of activity. Involves serious
+menace to our pacific plans. Issue ultimatum. Hear later that President
+is a penguin. As, however, withdrawal of ultimatum is out of the
+question, have despatched warships. Speech to my people:--"Owing to this
+wicked," etc.
+
+Having five minutes before lunch, declare war on Spain, Portugal, Tibet,
+Lapland and the Principality of Monaco. Reasons and ultimata to follow.
+
+Declare war on Bosnia and Herzegovina, but subsequently remember that
+these territories were recently absorbed by my ally. Undignified to
+cancel ultimatum, so declare war on said ally.
+
+Make painful discovery that, in spite of overtime at Imperial printing
+works, I am out of ultimatum forms. Urgent instructions have been sent
+to hasten delivery of forms, which are of course so printed that only
+the name of the offending country has to be filled in.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Apparently no more countries remain to be challenged. Must find some at
+all costs.
+
+Sudden inspiration. Have issued ultimatum to my own country that, if she
+does not find fresh countries for me to fight before midnight, war will
+ensue.
+
+_Midnight._ No new countries found. I declare war on Germany.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Journalistic Manner.
+
+"Every inch of Belgium will be fought for foot by foot."--_Daily
+Telegraph._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE OLD ORDER CHANGES.
+
+A thousand years ago I won a cup for jumping. It was not a very good
+cup, but then it was not a very good jump. Such as the cup is, however,
+it stands on a shelf in my library, and I have ways of directing the
+attention of visitors to it. For instance, if a collector of old prints
+is coming to dinner, I hang my oldest print just above the cup, ready
+for him; we take our--or better, his--cigars into the library, and I
+say, "Oh, look here, I picked this print up last week; the man said it
+was a genuine Eyre and Spottiswoode; you might give me your opinion." He
+gives me his opinion ... and then his eye wanders down. I see him
+reading the inscription on the cup.
+
+The inscription says: "Long Jump, 1739," or some such date. "First
+Prize, won by ----" and then my name very big and splendid. Underneath
+comes the school crest, followed by the motto, "_Dat Deus Incrementum_,"
+though I have never jumped any further since. Its shape is the ordinary
+sherry-glass shape. It is my only cup, and I am proud of it.
+
+I look up as I write, and I see the--by the way, I don't know if you
+have ever tried "looking up as you write." It is a common thing for
+reflective writers to say they do, but you should never believe them. It
+is impossible to write properly when looking somewhere else. What we do
+is to stop and slew our necks round, and then take a fresh dip in the
+ink. Well, slewing my neck round as I stop writing, I see my precious
+cup standing on its shelf, and ... horror! It is standing upside down!
+
+This comes as a surprise to you, but it is no surprise to me. The thing
+has been going on for months. It is months ago that I first spoke to
+Celia about it.
+
+"It's Jane," she said. "She always puts it like that when she's been
+dusting."
+
+"Yes, but what for? Just to catch the eye?"
+
+"I suppose because you always stand glasses upside down when you've
+cleaned them--to keep the dust out."
+
+"But if she'd only think a moment she'd see that I don't drink out of
+this, and that glasses don't have 'First Prize, won by ----'"
+
+"Jane isn't here to think, she's here to work."
+
+This seemed to be a distinction drawn between Jane and me.
+
+"You see what I mean," I said, "don't you? It's very difficult to read
+the cup upside down. A stranger mightn't know who--er--who had won it."
+
+"But don't you always turn it back again? I do, if ever I see it."
+
+"Yes, but--but---- Oh, well, it doesn't matter."
+
+I went back to the library. It was difficult to explain why I minded;
+because, after all, to fill a pipe, light it and sit down to work every
+morning is very little less trouble than to turn a cup round, fill a
+pipe, light it and sit down to work every morning. Anything regular soon
+gets taken for granted. And yet I was annoyed. I think it was the
+_silliness_ of standing a First Prize upside down which annoyed me. That
+and the apparent difficulty of getting into communication with Jane
+about it.
+
+For it was difficult. One day I went very humbly to Celia and said--
+
+"I know I'm a baby about it. Forgive me. But it's getting on my mind. Do
+tell Jane about the cup."
+
+"It's awfully hard," she said, after a little thought. "You see, it's
+such a very, very small thing that it never seems quite the right moment
+for it. And if, after I'd told her, she said 'What?' I couldn't possibly
+say it again."
+
+"You must be very articulate the first time. Lead the conversation
+slowly round to long-jumping or the difficulty of reading on your head,
+and then casually but articulately----"
+
+"Well, we'll see," said Celia. "Of course, if I ever caught her doing
+it, I'd tell her. Perhaps I shall."
+
+Well, we saw. We saw that the thing still went on. The direct approach
+to Jane was evidently impossible. So I tried sarcasm.
+
+Sarcasm, directed into the blue in the hope of hitting the person you
+want, may not be effective, but it does relieve the feelings. I had a
+thoroughly sarcastic morning all to myself. My deadly irony took the
+form of turning _everything_ in the library upside-down. The cup was in
+position already; I turned up two pewter mugs (third prizes in
+Consolation Races), the flower bowls, the cigarette box, the lamp, a
+stool, half-a-dozen pictures, two photographs and the mahogany clock.
+They all stood on their heads and sneered at Jane. "Why don't you do the
+thing properly while you're about it?" they said to her. I felt
+extremely well after I had finished.
+
+Celia stood in the door and gurgled to herself.
+
+"You baby," she smiled.
+
+"On the contrary," I said, "I have made a dignified yet subtle protest.
+You wouldn't move in the matter so I had to do something. I flatter
+myself that a sense of her past silliness will rush over Jane like a
+flood when she comes in here to-morrow morning."
+
+"If Jane's flooded at all," said Celia, "it will be with the idea that
+the master's mad. But I don't think she'll notice it particularly."
+
+Next morning everything was right side up again--except the cup.
+
+"It's no good," I told Celia; "she is obviously determined. Perhaps it
+means more than we think to her to have that cup upside-down. Its
+beauty, the memories it brings back, the symbolism of it, these things
+touch some hidden spring ... Still I _am_ master in my own house." And I
+turned the cup round again....
+
+Another month passed and I could bear it no longer. Yesterday I made up
+my mind. I would speak to Jane myself. I turned my First Prize the right
+way up, and then looked for Celia.
+
+"Celia," I said firmly, "where is Jane?"
+
+"She's gone out," said Celia softly. "Her--her man goes off to-day."
+
+       ***
+
+An hour later, with bands playing and people cheering, they wheeled out
+of barracks, brown and businesslike. Jane was in the front somewhere,
+waving her handkerchief--not such a silly Jane, after all. And at the
+back, very proud for her, Celia and I stood silent, with a something in
+the throat that had come there suddenly....
+
+And this morning the cup was upside-down again. Well, well, if she likes
+it that way, that way let it be.
+
+But take warning, O Jane! When your man--here's luck to him!--comes
+back, then I shall assert myself once more. My cup, "Long Jump, 1739.
+First Prize," shall stand the right way up; either that or you leave my
+service. I am determined about this....
+
+Meanwhile we can share the daily paper.
+
+A. A. M.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Dear _Mr. Punch_,--You may remember that QUEEN VICTORIA recorded in her
+_Journal in the Highlands_ that 'Vicky sat down on a wasps' nest.'
+'VICKY,' of course, was destined later to be the mother of WILHELM II.
+Can we not see in the present situation rather a remarkable example of
+heredity?--Yours, etc., MEDICO."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From a _Daily Chronicle_ special correspondent--
+
+    "A little meat and plenty of vegetables take one a long
+    way--lettuce, soup, eggs, en surprise, peas, dessert, voila--even
+    the very poor can afford such a dinner in Brussels."
+
+A seven-course dinner is certainly more than we can afford in England.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: "IT'S AN ILL WIND ..."
+
+_Old Cock Grouse._ "I SEE THEY'VE ALL GONE SHOOTING EAGLES."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PRIVATE VIEW.
+
+I take train home every evening from one of our best stations. Crowned
+heads fairly tumble over one another there in their anxiety to get a
+first glimpse of London. Personages are matters of daily arrival.
+
+The other night I reached my station just as a Personage was due. A
+drive led from his platform to the outside world. On one side of it were
+lined up the public six deep. On the other side of it was the left
+luggage office. Four policemen saw to it that no person crossed to the
+other side except on business.
+
+I began crossing.
+
+"Not that side," said Robert, "unless you want the left luggage."
+
+"The left luggage," I explained, "is my one desire."
+
+I crossed.
+
+The clerk was unusually prompt.
+
+"What's yours?" he said.
+
+"Since you ask," I replied, "I could do with a small stout; or,
+alternatively, a sherry and bitters."
+
+He kept silence, but with a touch of urgency in it. It is hard to
+temporize when confronted with a businesslike silence. Yet my view of
+the drive was worth fighting for.
+
+"I might leave my watch," I continued after a brief hesitation, "but the
+fact is I left it last week with my only godson. Have you a godson? You
+know what they are--always wanting something."
+
+"Come along, now," said the official brusquely. Robert, too, was
+becoming restive.
+
+"Very well; I will deposit my hat. You will be careful with it, won't
+you?"
+
+He accepted my hat untenderly.
+
+"What name?"
+
+"George," I said; "but they call me 'Winkles' at home."
+
+He was a man not easily moved. He wrote down "George" without hesitation
+on a bit of pink paper and asked for twopence as he gave it to me.
+
+Just then, to my great relief, the Boat Express arrived. I searched in
+all my pockets and at last found half-a-sovereign.
+
+I told you he was a man not easily moved. He gave me nine-and-tenpence
+without a word, but with more halfpennies than was quite nice.
+
+There was a stir in the crowd. I must hang on yet a little, or give it
+up, or stand six deep. I cannot stand standing six deep. But it is the
+duty of every citizen to welcome Personages.
+
+Then I bethought me of my pink paper.
+
+I summoned the man who was not easily moved and presented it. "The
+deposit," I explained, "was a hat--a felt hat--I cannot be sure of the
+size, but at a guess I should put it somewhere between 7 and 8."
+
+But he had already retrieved it.
+
+I took it and replaced it on my head as I turned in the nick of time to
+take it off to the Personage. He gave me a very sweet smile, the memory
+of which I cherish so fondly that I am loth to attribute it to the
+fashionable dent I subsequently discovered in my bowler.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the present restriction of Sport we sympathize with that section of
+the Press which makes it a speciality. However, there are outlets; and
+one of our Sporting contemporaries has burst forth into history, as
+follows:--
+
+    "Once again England is faced with a crisis. There has been nothing
+    like it since Alexander the Great burned his boats and crossed the
+    Rubicon."
+
+An Infant Prodigy.
+
+    "Although only in his 41st year Mr. F. E. Smith is a Master of Arts
+    ..."
+
+    _Pall Mall Gazette._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: _Medical Officer._ "SORRY I MUST REJECT YOU ON ACCOUNT OF
+YOUR TEETH."
+
+_Would-be Recruit._ "MAN, YE'RE MAKING A GRAN' MISTAKE. I'M NO WANTING
+TO BITE THE GERMANS, I'M WANTING TO SHOOT 'EM."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A FIRST CHARGE.
+
+_Mr. Punch's_ appeal is once more for the children. Most earnestly, and
+with great confidence, he begs his readers to care for those little ones
+whose fathers and brothers are serving under the Flag for our country's
+honour and the defence of our homes, or may suffer through loss of work.
+All gifts to the National Relief Fund should be addressed to H.R.H. The
+Prince of Wales, at Buckingham Palace.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A PLEA FOR PEGASUS.
+
+  Ye mobilisers of that other arm
+    Whose might is famed superior to the sabre's,
+  Who furnish forth the wherewithal to charm
+    The Special Correspondent to his labours,
+  And by whose enterprise we're daily fed on
+  Reports of Armageddon.
+
+  List to my plaint. It is not that I tire
+    Of those despatches--picturesque effusions--
+  Which by the witness of a later wire
+    Are proved to rank among the Great Illusions;
+  Though much to be deplored, such news, I'm willing
+  Freely to own, is thrilling.
+
+  But when your pages, shrunken through the scare
+    Of that worst blow of all, a paper famine,
+  Dispense exclusively Bellona's fare,
+    And, failing battle tales, you simply cram in
+  Facts about spies, commodities and prices,
+  I writhe beneath this crisis.
+
+  I can support the other pains of war:
+    Transport disorganised and credit shaken,
+  The fear of hunger knocking at the door,
+    And threepence extra on a pound of bacon;
+  In fact, I'd be the most resigned of creatures
+  If you'd compose your "features."
+
+  Could you not lift a corner of the mask
+    That makes these solemn days so much more solemn?
+  A very little ray is all I ask
+    To light the utter darkness--say a column
+  Of "stories" which your slang describes as "snappy;"
+  With these I could be happy;
+
+  With these my topic Muse I might entice;
+    But war has left her mute, and me despairing.
+  They call for horses; must I sacrifice
+    The steed with whom I've taken many an airing?
+  Poor Pegasus--and none too well-conditioned!
+  Must _he_ be requisitioned?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From parallel columns in The Evening News:---
+
+    "Haelen is forty-five miles northwest  | "The centre of the battle was
+    of Liége; it is fifty miles            | at Haelen (thirty miles
+    east of Brussels."                     | northwest of Liége
+                                           | and thirty miles
+                                           | from Brussels)."
+
+
+This is simply to deceive the Germans.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: THE WORLD'S ENEMY.
+
+THE KAISER. "WHO GOES THERE?"
+
+SPIRIT OF CARNAGE. "A FRIEND--YOUR ONLY ONE."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: _Fond Mother_ (_full of war news_). "DON'T GO TOO FAR
+OUT, GIRLS. YOU CAN'T BE TOO CAREFUL WITH ALL THIS FIGHTING GOING ON."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S HOLIDAY STORIES.
+
+II.--THE ISLAND CUP RACE.
+
+Cowes week was drawing near to its brilliant climax. Through the blue
+waters of the Solent a swarm of palatial steam yachts, saucy outriggers,
+graceful cutters and wasp-like motor boats jostled one another in their
+efforts to gain safe anchorage after the strenuous excitement of the
+day's racing. Everywhere could be heard the clank of mooring chains,
+mingled with the full-flavoured oaths of sailor men.
+
+Gradually silence fell upon the scene, broken only by the melodious
+murmur of numberless gramophones and the soft strains of the band of the
+Royal Yacht Squadron.
+
+As the sun descended lower beneath the horizon the dusk deepened, and
+presently thousands of Chinese lanterns twinkled through the gloom from
+mast and yard-arm. Lady Margaret Tamerton, leaning idly against the
+barnacle of her brother's yacht, the _Seamaid_, drank in the beauty of
+the night with deep inhalations.
+
+The voice of young Lord Tamerton at her side at last broke the spell of
+silence.
+
+"Madge," he said softly, "Wonderson has not yet arrived. If he doesn't
+come, our chances of winning the Island Cup to-morrow are practically
+hopeless."
+
+"Don't worry, Fred," replied Lady Margaret. "Ralph never fails....
+Listen, he is coming now."
+
+And, indeed, the muffled beat of oars was heard approaching from the
+darkness. Soon a slim white boat came gliding up to the prow of the
+_Seamaid_. Ralph Wonderson, a tall athletic figure in his immaculate
+flannels and straw boater, poised himself on the gunwale, gathered
+himself for a spring, and leaped with the agility of a cat to the
+bowsprit of the yacht. Sliding rapidly down this, he nodded easily to
+Lord Tamerton and clasped the beautiful figure of Lady Margaret in his
+arms.
+
+"S-sh!" he whispered warningly, laying his fingers on her lips, as she
+would have spoken. "Nobody must know I am here till to-morrow. That is
+why I came aboard like that. Listen. Your cousin, Sir Ernest Scrivener,
+_alias_ Marmaduke Moorsdyke, is here, and is plotting to kidnap you.
+There is a traitor somewhere on this yacht who supplies him with all
+information. The attempt is to be made to-night."
+
+"To-night!" murmured Lady Margaret in horror. "What am I to do? His
+ingenuity is dev--er--fiendish."
+
+"It shall be baffled," replied Ralph reassuringly. "I have thought it
+all out. It would be dangerous for you to leave the yacht because, in
+view of to-morrow's race, neither your brother nor I could accompany
+you. There is only one place on board where you can pass the night in
+assured safety--the crow's-nest."
+
+"The crow's-nest," repeated Lady Margaret, clapping her hands. "What
+fun! I shall be rocked to sleep beautifully, and of _course_ they will
+never think of looking for me there."
+
+"Come," said Ralph, taking her hand. "There is no time to lose, and none
+of the crew must be allowed to see you. We don't know whom we can
+trust."
+
+Snatching her in his arms, he carried her easily up the frail rigging,
+his mountain training showing in every step he took. Five minutes later
+he returned alone and dropped noiselessly to the deck. He looked round
+cautiously; there was nobody in view except Lord Tamerton.
+
+"It's all right, Fred," he whispered. "Let us turn in."
+
+They descended the broad staircase arm-in-arm. No sooner had they
+disappeared than a dark figure crept with a low chuckle from underneath
+a coil of rope and dropped silently over the yacht's counter.
+
+A phosphorescent gleam disturbed the darkness of the water.
+
+       ***
+
+Early next morning Ralph Wonderson ran nimbly up the rigging of the
+_Seamaid_, carrying a tray loaded with toast, eggs, tea and marmalade.
+He tapped at the door of the crow's-nest. There was no response. After a
+pause he tapped again and cautiously pushed open the door. The
+crow's-nest was empty!
+
+"Betrayed," cried Ralph, clapping his hand to his forehead. A moment
+later two soft-boiled eggs devastated the snowy whiteness of the
+_Seamaid's_ deck.
+
+Despite their precautions, Lady Margaret had been spirited away during
+the night. As soon as he had recovered from the shock of the discovery,
+Ralph ran to Lord Tamerton and acquainted him with the terrible news.
+There was a period of agonised and fruitless discussion.
+
+"Wait! I have an idea," exclaimed Ralph presently. He pressed an
+electric bell, and a steward appeared almost simultaneously.
+
+"Jenkins, fetch me a race card," said Ralph.
+
+"Yes, Sir," replied the steward. "I anticipated your request and have it
+here."
+
+Ralph and Lord Tamerton bent their heads over the card.
+
+"See," said the former. "It is as I hoped. Among the entries for the
+Island Cup we have the _Watersnake_, owner Sir Ernest Scrivener. He will
+sail her himself, that is certain. It is equally certain that he has
+Madge on board. If I know anything of him he will not let her out of his
+sight. Fred, by yonder centreboard I swear that before the race is over
+we will win her back."
+
+_Bang!_ It was the signal for the competitors to line up for the great
+race for the world-famous Island Cup.
+
+       ***
+
+Of all the thousands who pressed themselves against the straining booms
+none realised that the race was for a prize far more precious than a
+mere cup of gold valued at two thousand guineas.
+
+The _Watersnake_ was in front, a clear hundred yards separating her from
+the pursuing _Seamaid_. All the other yachts lagged hopelessly in the
+rear.
+
+Scattering the foam at their bows, the two boats rushed along the blue
+lane of clear water which lay between the booms. Ralph, at the wheel of
+the _Seamaid_, gazed anxiously forward. Could they do it?
+
+"Let loose the spinnaker," he commanded gruffly. "Haul on the signal
+halyard. Lower the keelson."
+
+The orders were swiftly executed, and the _Seamaid_ leaped forward with
+a bound. The distance between the two vessels rapidly lessened.
+
+"Fred," said Ralph, "you must take the wheel for a time. I'm going
+forward to board the _Watersnake_."
+
+Lord Tamerton obediently grasped the wheel, while Ralph ran forward and
+crept along the bowsprit. The intervening space was now very small.
+Bracing himself for the effort, he shot through the air and landed upon
+the deck of the _Watersnake_. The first object which met his gaze was
+Lady Margaret, her wrists bound, lying beside the barnacle.
+
+Sir Ernest Scrivener uttered a horrible oath as he recognised the
+features of his successful rival. For an instant he loosened his grasp
+on the wheel. The vessel yawed in her course and he was compelled to
+seize the spokes again.
+
+       ***
+
+Before Scrivener could command his wits sufficiently to shout an order
+to his crew, Ralph had caught up Lady Margaret in his arms and dashed to
+the side of the vessel. Deprived of his skilled command, the _Seamaid_
+had dropped behind; it was impossible to leap back to her decks.
+
+Without hesitation, Ralph dived into the water, and still supporting the
+now unconscious form of Lady Margaret, swam rapidly towards the yacht.
+Two minutes later he was gripping the wheel and concentrating all his
+immense will power upon the task of winning the race.
+
+Inch by inch the _Seamaid_ crept up to her rival. Despite all
+Scrivener's efforts, the gap grew less and less.
+
+And now the winning post was close at hand. Could it be done? Could it
+be done? The frantic spectators behind the boom shouted themselves
+hoarse. Lord Tamerton bit his thumbs till the blood ran.
+
+Nearer drew the _Seamaid_. Nearer and nearer. Nearer still. At the
+critical moment, Ralph, with a mighty effort, pushed down the wheel.
+
+A bare three inches parted the _Watersnake_ from the winning post when
+the slight shudder ran through her which told that the prow of the
+_Seamaid_ had touched her stern. The bump had been made; the race was
+won.
+
+       ***
+
+Ralph Wonderson stood with the magnificent Island Cup in his hand,
+filled to the brim with bubbling champagne.
+
+"To the restoration of the fortunes of the house of Tamerton," he said
+as he raised it to his lips.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: _The Turkey Buzzard_ (_to the Sea Eagle_). "You may call
+yourself a Turkey Buzzard if you like, but they'll still know you by
+your white feather."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE VIKING SPIRIT.
+
+    ["The week-end was dull and much rain fell, but this did not spoil
+    the visitors' pleasure. The sight of the sea in a turbulent mood was
+    a great attraction."--_Seaside note in daily paper._]
+
+  It has rained for a week down at Shrimpton;
+    'Tis zero or less in the shade;
+  You can paddle your feet in the principal street
+    And bathe on the stony parade;
+  But still on our holiday pleasures
+    No thoughts of discomfort intrude,
+  As we whisper, "This sight is a bit of all right,"
+    For the sea's in a turbulent mood.
+
+  There's nobody harks to the pierrots;
+    For music we don't care a straw;
+  And the "comic" in vain chants the usual strain
+    Concerning his mother-in-law.
+  Unbought are the beach's bananas;
+    Our souls are all far above food;
+  Not a man of us dreams of consuming ice-creams
+    When the sea's in a turbulent mood.
+
+  You may prate of the fervour of Phoebus
+    Of days that are calm and serene,
+  When a tint as of teak is imposed on the cheek
+    That is commonly pallid (when clean);
+  But _we_ have a taste that's æsthetic;
+    Mere sunshine seems vulgar and crude,
+  As we gather to gaze with artistic amaze
+    On the sea in a turbulent mood.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_The Beekeepers' Record_, referring to the photograph of a group of
+prominent beekeepers, says:--"Mr. Dadant's well-known features are
+easily spotted." We are sorry, but a little cold cream will sometimes do
+wonders.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
+
+"FOR NUTS."--The origin of this curious phrase to indicate incompetence
+in any pursuit or pastime--_e.g._, "He can't play for nuts," etc.--is
+obscure; but its antiquity is incontestable. Thus one of the fragments
+of ENNIUS runs: "_Nucibus non ludere possum_." Perhaps the most
+plausible theory is that which views the phrase as a heritage from our
+simian ancestors, among whom nuts were the common medium of exchange. On
+this assumption a monkey--whether gorilla, chimpanzee, baboon or
+orangutan--who was described as unable to do anything "for nuts,"
+_i.e._, for pecuniary remuneration, was obviously inefficient. Another
+explanation, which we believe is supported by Mr. EUSTACE MILES, scouts
+the notion of an ancient origin of the phrase and fixes the _terminus a
+quo_ by the recent introduction of vegetarian diet. Nuts being a prime
+staple of the votaries of this cult, a person who cannot do anything
+"for nuts" means, by implication, a carnivorous savage who is incapable
+of progress. Lastly, there remains the ingenious solution that the
+phrase as commonly employed involves a misspelling. It ought to be "four
+nuts," and playing four nuts was an ancient but simple game, which may
+be connected with the cognate phrase about knowing or not knowing "how
+many beans make five."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+POLLY PERKINS: WAS SHE A REAL PERSON?--A careful search in the registers
+of Paddington in the early and mid-Victorian period reveals so many Mary
+Perkinses as to render the task of identification peculiarly difficult.
+It will be remembered, however, that the heroine of the famous ballad is
+described as not only "little," but "pretty;" indeed, she is spoken of
+as being "as beautiful as a butterfly and as proud as a queen." So far,
+however, these clues to her appearance have yielded no solid results.
+The representatives of the famous family of brewers have been unable to
+throw any light on the subject, and an application to the managing
+director of the London and General Omnibus Company has also proved
+unproductive. (Polly Perkins "married the conductor of a twopenny
+'bus.") Her brilliant appearance suggests a possible relationship with
+Dr. PERKINS, the famous pioneer of the aniline dye industry; but this,
+as well as the theory that she was a descendant of PERKIN WARBECK, is
+mere surmise.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE FIRST MAN WHO ATE AN OYSTER.--The most widely circulated account of
+this feat is that which ascribes it to the notorious Roman epicure
+Publius Esurius Gulo, who was nicknamed Bellipotens from the rotundity
+of his figure. According to the account given in the _Gastronomica_ of
+Voracius Bulbo (ii. 18) Gulo was always making daring experiments, and,
+when bathing at Baiae on a very hot day, and seeing a bivalve which had
+rashly opened its jaws in the sun, he dexterously inserted a stone and
+conveyed the contents to his mouth on the point of the pin of his
+_fibula_. He was subsequently created a proconsul by NERO. The only
+drawback connected with this account is the fact that oysters were
+recognised as delicacies in Rome at least a hundred years before NERO.
+It is right to add that the genuineness of Bulbo's _Gastronomica_ has
+been seriously impugned, the best authorities (including FRANCATELLI)
+being convinced that the treatise was the work of a sixteenth-century
+_farceur_ who belonged to the royal house of Paphlagonia.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PARLOUR PATHOS, SPECIMENS OF.--The best specimens of this interesting
+emotional product are to be found in the words of Royalty Ballads. A
+good instance is to be found in the following choice quatrain:--
+
+  Nature cares not whence or how,
+    Nature asks not why;
+  'Tis enough that thou art thou,
+    And that I am I.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+COMPARATIVE COUPLETS.--The correct form of this literary disease is as
+follows:--
+
+  A chair without a leg
+  Is like a hen without an egg.
+
+But it is emphatically not to be encouraged, as excessive indulgence in
+the habit has been known to lead to the break-up of happy homes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NAMES OF GOLF CLUBS.--The latest addition to the list is, so far as we
+are aware, the "Sammy," but efforts are being made to induce the St.
+Andrews authorities to sanction the "Biffy," a combination of the
+jigger and the baffy, and the "Duncher," a powerful weapon for
+extricating the ball out of rushes, tar and other viscous lies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE JUGGINS FAMILY.--This family claims descent from Joskin ap Gwyggan,
+the last native prince who ruled in Dwffryn. The earlier lines in the
+descent are doubtful. The various families claiming to spring from
+Joskin adopted different patronymics in the fifteenth and succeeding
+centuries, amongst which may be noted Joskins, Gherkin, Guggenheimer,
+and Gaga.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: THE OLD REFRAIN.
+
+_First Old Lady._ "MY DEAR, WHAT _DO_ YOU THINK OF THIS WAR? ISN'T IT
+TERRIBLE?"
+
+_Second Old Lady._ "AWFUL! BUT IT CAN'T LAST LONG; _THE POWERS WILL
+SURELY INTERVENE_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: _The Patriot._ "HOARD MY GOLD! I'D STARVE FIRST!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MIDDLECOMBE _v_. PADDLEWICK.
+
+I.
+
+    _Philip Renwick to Charles Holcombe._
+    Room 99, X.Y.Z. Offices,
+    Whitehall,
+    _8th August, 1914._
+
+DEAR CHARLIE,--Can you possibly turn out for us on Thursday next _v_.
+Paddlewick? We lost to them rather heavily in May last and are anxious
+to give them a sound beating. Their fast bowler is playing for them
+again, I hear, and we absolutely rely on your help. Can you get off for
+the day?
+
+    Yours ever, P. R.
+
+II.
+
+    _Charles Holcombe to Philip Renwick._
+    Room 83, P.Q.R. Offices,
+    Lombard Street,
+    _9th August, 1914._
+
+MY DEAR PHIL,--Thanks for yours. Will try to manage it next Thursday,
+but am doubtful. My chief, though a capable official, is no sport, and I
+anticipate difficulties. I had a day off only two weeks ago for cricket.
+Will do my best.
+
+    Thine, C. H.
+
+III.
+
+    _Charles Holcombe to Philip Renwick._
+    P.Q.R.
+    _10th August, 1914._
+
+MY DEAR PHIL,--Awfully sorry; no luck _re_ Thursday. Boss hopeless. I
+broached the matter this morning (without actually asking for
+permission), but I fear the worst. You had better get another man for
+the Paddlewick match. So sorry.
+
+    Yours ever,
+    CHARLIE HOLCOMBE.
+
+IV.
+
+    _Philip Renwick to Charles Holcombe._
+    X.Y.Z.
+    _10th August, 1914._
+
+MY DEAR CHARLIE,--We shall be absolutely in the cart without you.
+They've got an awfully hot fast bowler. Bartram now tells me he can't
+possibly turn out, and you are the only really decent bat I know. We
+simply _can't_ lose to Paddlewick again--we shall never hear the last of
+it. (No one need know that you don't play regularly for Middlecombe.) Do
+try your best, old man. Mightn't your Aunt Martha be seriously ill?
+
+    Yours ever, PHIL.
+
+V.
+
+    _Charles Holcombe to Philip Renwick_
+    (_wire._)
+
+Aunt Martha dying. All well. Boss absent Thursday, so can explain to him
+afterwards. HOLCOMBE.
+
+VI.
+
+    _Philip Renwick to Charles Holcombe_
+    (_wire._)
+
+Good boy. Funeral 11.30. Train Paddington 10.5. Lunch 1.30. Draw 6.30.
+PHILIP.
+
+VII.
+
+    _Charles Holcombe to Philip Renwick._
+    Room 83, P.Q.R. Offices,
+    _14th August._
+
+MY DEAR PHIL,--I regret that I was forced to leave somewhat hurriedly
+after the game last night. I have nothing to add to what I told you at
+lunch as to the identity of the Paddlewick Spofforth with my chief, of
+whose sporting talent I was in ignorance. But if you should hear of a
+good berth going anywhere I should be extraordinarily grateful.
+
+    Yours ever,
+    CHARLIE HOLCOMBE.
+
+P.S.--It was doubly unfortunate (in a way) that I should have scored a
+six and three fours in one over from his bowling.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OLD STYLE AND NEW.
+
+I.--OLD STYLE.
+
+_He._ Has anyone seen the paper?
+
+_She._ I haven't.
+
+_He._ Didn't it come this morning?
+
+_She._ Very likely not. The boy often forgets it. You're the only person
+who ever looks at it.
+
+_He._ Well, I suppose I must wait till I get to the Club; but I dare say
+there isn't anything that matters in it.
+
+_Or_
+
+_She._ Have you done with that paper, my dear?
+
+_He._ Absolutely; there's nothing in it. There never is. I can't think
+why we waste money in taking it.
+
+_She._ Then perhaps I may have it for a pattern?
+
+_He._ Why, certainly. I've no use for it.
+
+II.--NEW STYLE.
+
+_The whole family_ (all together).
+
+{Has the paper come yet?
+{What's the news?
+{Where's the paper?
+{What about Liége?
+{I say, where's the paper?
+{Isn't the paper here yet?
+{What's the matter with the people?
+
+_Or_
+
+_The whole family_ (all together again).
+
+{I say, father, you might read quicker.
+{Can't you tear it in half?
+{Do tell us the news.
+{Do read it out loud.
+{What about Liége? Quick!
+{Oh dear, why don't we have ten copies of it?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "The 'Daily Telegraph' Algeciras correspondent, wiring yesterday,
+    says news from Gibraltar reports a naval fight off the Canaries. One
+    of the latter was sunk and the other captured and brought to
+    Gibraltar."
+
+    _Liverpool Evening Express._
+
+Our own canary protests indignantly at this treatment of its allies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In order to be in the very admirable fashion the L.C.C. has decided, we
+understand, to change the name of Jermyn Street to Jellicoe Lane.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: THE LOCAL TOUCH. _East Anglian._ "TELL YOW WHAT THAT IS,
+SIR: THAT THERE KAISER 'E 'ONT NEVER BE SATISFIED UNTIL 'E'S RUINED
+MUDBOROUGH."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: A BRAVE MAN. "LARGE LAGER, WAITER."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)
+
+MR. DORNFORD YATES, whose name I seem to recall as a contributor to the
+magazines, has written a book of the most agreeable nonsense which he
+has called _The Brother of Daphne_ (WARD, LOCK). For no specially
+apparent reason, since _Daphne_ herself plays but a small part in the
+argument, which is chiefly concerned with the brother and his love
+affairs. This brother, addressed as _Boy_, was a bit of a dog, and an
+uncommonly lucky dog at that. The adventures he had! He apparently could
+not go out for the simplest walk without meeting some amiable young
+woman, divinely fair and supernaturally witty, with whom he presently
+exchanged airy badinage and, towards the end of the interview, kisses.
+What distressed me a little at first, till I tumbled to the spirit of
+the thing, was the discovery that the charmer was always a fresh one,
+and in consequence that these osculations had, so to speak, no
+matrimonial significance. Perhaps, however, _Boy_ recognised an
+essential similarity in each of his partners. He may, for example, have
+been deceived by the fact that they all talked exactly the same Dolly
+dialogue--light, frothy and just a little more neatly turned than is the
+common intercourse of mortals. You know the kind of speech I mean. It is
+vastly pleasant and easy to read; but I must decline to believe that any
+young man could have the amazing fortune to meet fifteen pretty girls
+who all had the trick of it. Still, that by no means lessened my
+enjoyment of an entertaining volume, notice of which would be incomplete
+without a word of praise for the illustrations of Mr. C. W. WILMSHURST,
+a favourite black-and-white artist of mine, whose name is unaccountably
+omitted from the title-page.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+If DOROTHEA CONYERS knew as much about English syntax as she does about
+Irish, and were as certain in the handling of a story as she is in the
+conduct of a horse, _Old Andy_ (METHUEN) might be taken at a single
+refreshing gallop. As it is, I advise the reader to tackle it piecemeal,
+a brisk run here and there, followed by a considerable breather. For the
+novel is put together in a scrambling fashion, being full of repetitions
+of almost identical scenes and making very little definite way in a
+forward direction. There are the usual Irish peasantry and farmers who
+worship the horse for pecuniary and sentimental reasons, as the
+Israelites worshipped the golden calf; the usual hunting people, who
+either ride straight and are grimly sarcastic or talk very big and go
+for the gates; and the usual English visitors, who astound by their
+guilelessness and simplicity when confronted by aboriginal horse-copers
+and native bogs and stone-walls. If cubbing be included, I should be
+afraid to say how many meets are described in this book, or how many
+hunt-breakfasts and heavy teas in Irish interiors--interiors of
+cottages, of course, I mean--resulting in how many tricky deals and
+harmless tosses in the heather and the mud. But if you follow my lead
+there is plenty of pure joy in _Old Andy_, and the most and the best of
+it perhaps is to be found in the remarks of grooms, servant-girls and
+casual country folk, who as often as not have no kind of connection with
+the thread of the tale. "'If meself an' the Masther wasn't rowlin' rocks
+all the day yestherday, he would be within long ago,' replied the
+covert keeper." "If there is one rabbit with a skinned nose there's a
+hundther, an' they runnin' by mistake to the door they're used to be
+at." Such scattered flowers of speech abound in a book whose very want
+of construction is perhaps symbolical and a reflection of the charming
+incoherence of the Irish mind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It is my painful experience that, when a novelist sets out to write a
+tale of English country life, the better he is at the job the more
+sombre is the finished product. Mr. GEORGE STEVENSON is very good indeed
+at his job; he has sincerity and power, and a certain austere aloofness
+that will take him far; and the result is that _Jenny Cartwright_ (LANE)
+is about as gloomy a story as ever I read. Above everything else, what I
+noticed about this book was its freedom from all straining after effect.
+Whatever takes place, I fancy Mr. STEVENSON saying, do not let us be
+sentimental about it. Half the characters in the book seem to come by
+violent ends; of the two chief women, one commits suicide and the other
+is hanged. Mr. STEVENSON, one can only suppose, speaks of life as he
+finds it. There are really two stories, that of _Beatrice Barrington_,
+the faithless wife of _Sir Philip_, and the dreary mockery of life up at
+The Court, with its hatreds and subterfuges, its crippled master,
+frightened children and spying servants. This is the county as the
+author sees it. Linked with this is the life of the farm, where _Jenny_
+is brought up by an uncle who hates her; where she tends his bedridden
+wife; where her cousin _Beatrice_ goes wrong; where _Beatrice's_
+betrayer is killed in an accident, and her baby falls into the fire; and
+where finally the dour uncle himself, after shooting the young squire
+who has offered dishonourable addresses to _Jenny_, allows her to pay
+the penalty of his crime. There is undeniable strength about the book
+and it holds the attention; but I dispute the right of anyone to call it
+cheerful.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CYNTHIA STOCKLEY has the writing quality in her; she can both see and
+feel; she can do man-talk with a plausibility beyond the reach of most
+of her sex; and she works with a refreshing dash and freedom. With a
+certain carelessness also sometimes; as thus: "The other, turning to
+run, got a shot in his leg that put him out of business, but in spite of
+which he managed to crawl away." And there are little kakophonies, such
+as: "He was loved, openly and gladly, back." The work is good enough to
+make worth while the cleansing of these defects. The author certainly
+puts into a short story more thought and characterisation than is common
+in these days of half-hours with even the best authors through the
+medium of magazine pot-boilers. _Wild Honey_ (CONSTABLE) is the title of
+the first (not quite the best) of an excellent bunch. It sums up the
+bitter-sweet of South Africa, which is the setting of all these stories
+of love, adventure, horror and the wild. They give a strong impression
+of fidelity of draftsmanship, though here we know so little that is
+intimate of the dark continent that we cannot judge how far actual
+occurrences are based on fact or probability. But CYNTHIA STOCKLEY has
+some of the mysterious qualities of a possible South African laureate.
+Perhaps she will contrive to put away a little weakness for tall and
+scornful aristocratic women; but, in any case, I can commend her book
+confidently to all intelligent beach-haunters.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "The price of bread has just been fixed by the authorities at 32
+    centimes the kilometre."--_Globe._
+
+So you can get a couple of yards of French roll for about
+half-a-farthing. Not bad for war-time.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+147, August 19th, 1914, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, VOL. 147, AUG. 19, 1914 ***
+
+***** This file should be named 26969-8.txt or 26969-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg Ebook Of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. Volume 147. August 19th 1914. By Various.</title>
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147,
+August 19th, 1914, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, August 19th, 1914
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Owen Seaman
+
+Release Date: October 19, 2008 [EBook #26969]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, VOL. 147, AUG. 19, 1914 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<h1>PUNCH,<br />
+
+OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1>
+
+<h2>  VOLUME 147.</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>  AUGUST 19th 1914.</h2>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%">
+<a href="images/159.png">
+<img src="images/159.png" width="100%" alt="A QUICK CHANGE OF FRONT" /></a>
+<h3>A QUICK CHANGE OF FRONT.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>THE NATURE OF A MORATORIUM.</h2>
+
+<p>"It's a big ship" (I could overhear Ethel's voice through the open
+nursery window). "I know perfectly well it is. It's one of the
+Cunarders."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you're quite wrong then," (this from Jack). "It was passed
+through Parliament. You can't pass a ship through Parliament."</p>
+
+<p>"It's the sister ship to the <i>Lusitania</i>&mdash;so there!"</p>
+
+<p>Joan's thoughtful voice intervened.</p>
+
+<p>"I can tell you what it is," she said. "It's a place for burying
+people&mdash;a sort of big tomb where they put dead kings. There's one at
+Windsor."</p>
+
+<p>Curiously enough I was myself at the moment rather puzzled as to what it
+was and how it worked.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know, William," I said to my host, "that you are owing me ten
+pounds and I've got to get home to-day, and I've no money?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but I shan't pay it now," he replied shamelessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to put a Moratorium on you. I don't know, of course, if
+that's quite the correct phrase. The thing is new to me. But at least I
+can see how it works. You had better try James. He owes you five, and he
+never reads the papers, so he may not have heard of it."</p>
+
+<p>I went at once into the library, where I found James making up a parcel
+of three half-sovereigns to send to his bank. No one is going to accuse
+James of hoarding gold.</p>
+
+<p>"About that fiver," I began.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes. I was just coming out to talk to you about that before you
+went," said he. "Now that I'm sending all this stuff to the bank I'm
+just afraid I may be a bit short. I'll tell you what I think we ought to
+do, you and I, I think we ought to enter into a temporary Moratorium.
+All the best people are doing it. Of course I don't know if that's the
+right phrase. But I begin to see how it works."</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't apply to sums under five pounds," said I severely.</p>
+
+<p>"That's true. I admit it's a pretty narrow squeak. I just managed to get
+on board, so to speak. Still, as the debt is five pounds&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take &pound;4 19<i>s</i>. 11<i>d</i>.," said I, and held out my hand.</p>
+
+<p>"That's not playing the game," said James. "Can't you see you're going
+to encourage all sorts of panic if you go about reducing debts in that
+sort of way? What is to become of British credit if a man in your
+position shows himself willing to accept sweeping reductions for the
+sake of getting hold of cash? I'm just a little ashamed of you."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I've got to get home to-day. The ticket costs over five pounds,
+and I've only got sixteen shillings."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing simpler, my dear fellow," said James cheerfully. "You ask the
+booking-clerk for a ticket&mdash;pick it up&mdash;cover him with a Moratorium (if
+that's the proper phrase) and hop into the train. The sixteen bob will
+come in for tips."</p>
+
+<p>I went back to William and sat down. "The upshot of it is, William," I
+said, "that I can't go. You had better consider pretty carefully what
+you're doing. I don't think the Moratorium was intended to work in this
+sort of way. I've got to report myself at the War Office, and I can't
+go. You may think you're acting as a good citizen should. You may not be
+hoarding gold or hoarding food, but you are hoarding <i>me</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't apply to National Insurance payments," said William
+brightly, "if that's any help to you."</p>
+
+<p>"It only goes on till the 4th of September," I reminded him, "and the
+bank rate was recently as high as ten per cent. and may easily go up
+again. You've got to pay interest on it, you know."</p>
+
+<p>That was where I had him. "How will you take it?" he asked, thrusting a
+hand into his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>"In new pound notes," said I.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>
+
+<h2>DIES IRAE.</h2>
+
+<center><i>To the <span class="sc">German Kaiser</span>.</i></center>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">Amazing Monarch! who at various times,</p>
+<p class="i2">Posing as Europe's self-appointed saviour,</p>
+<p class="i0">Afforded copy for our ribald rhymes</p>
+<p class="i8">By your behaviour;</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">We nursed no malice; nay, we thanked you much</p>
+<p class="i2">Because your head-piece, swollen like a tumour,</p>
+<p class="i0">Lent to a dullish world the needed touch</p>
+<p class="i8">Of saving humour.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">What with your wardrobes stuffed with warrior gear,</p>
+<p class="i2">Your gander-step parades, your prancing Prussians,</p>
+<p class="i0">Your menaces that shocked the deafened sphere</p>
+<p class="i8">With rude concussions;</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">Your fist that turned the pinkest rivals pale</p>
+<p class="i2">Alike with sceptre, chisel, pen or palette,</p>
+<p class="i0">And could at any moment, gloved in mail,</p>
+<p class="i8">Smite like a mallet;</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">Master of all the Arts, and, what was more,</p>
+<p class="i2">Lord of the limelight blaze that let us know it&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i0">You seemed a gift designed on purpose for</p>
+<p class="i8">The flippant poet.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">Time passed and put to these old jests an end;</p>
+<p class="i2">Into our open hearts you found admission,</p>
+<p class="i0">Ate of our bread and pledged us like a friend</p>
+<p class="i8">Above suspicion.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">You shared our griefs with seeming-gentle eyes;</p>
+<p class="i2">You moved among us cousinly entreated,</p>
+<p class="i0">Still hiding, under that fair outward guise,</p>
+<p class="i8">A heart that cheated.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">And now the mask is down, and forth you stand</p>
+<p class="i2">Known for a King whose word is no great matter,</p>
+<p class="i0">A traitor proved, for every honest hand</p>
+<p class="i8">To strike and shatter.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">This was the "Day" foretold by yours and you</p>
+<p class="i2">In whispers here, and there with beery clamours&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i0">You and your rat-hole spies and blustering crew</p>
+<p class="i8">Of loud Potsdamers.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">And lo, there dawns another, swift and stern,</p>
+<p class="i2">When on the wheels of wrath, by Justice' token,</p>
+<p class="i0">Breaker of God's own Peace, you shall in turn</p>
+<p class="i8">Yourself be broken.</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="author">O. S.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>A DETERMINED ISLAND.</h2>
+
+<center>II.</center>
+
+<p>I continue this record of our daily lives at Totland Bay on August 12th.
+Before it appears in <i>Mr. Punch's</i> columns great and decisive events may
+have happened, but at present, except for such slight distractions as I
+shall relate, we are still calm and peaceful. When we think or speak of
+Belgium our faces glow, and we are all resolved, should the need arise,
+to do as Belgium has done, and to do it in the same resolute and
+unconquerable spirit. In the meantime we rush for the newspapers with a
+constantly increasing eagerness. At about 11 <span class="sc">A.M.</span> the whole of Totland
+Bay is filled with people reading their papers in the open air.
+Everybody bumps into everybody else, but nobody minds. A gentleman the
+other day set out in a canoe and read the morning's news to a party of
+swimmers, who appeared to be much invigorated by what they heard.</p>
+
+<p>On Sunday night, just as we had finished dinner, we suddenly heard the
+report of a great gun from the fort at the Needles. The explosion was
+followed by three plaintive answering notes from a fog-horn. "They're
+firing at a ship," said someone, and out we all rushed to the nearest
+vantage-point, and even as we ran another gun went off and again the
+fog-horn answered with its bleat. The searchlights were striking great
+shafts of light along the Solent, and far away their beams outlined the
+shape of a big ship. She was still advancing on her course, when&mdash;Bang!
+another violent explosion shattered the night. This time it came from
+the fort just over the pier of Totland Bay. The echoes reverberated and
+rumbled, and the shot tore past close to the ship. Now she took the
+warning. There were no more appeals from the fog-horn. Slowly she turned
+and disappeared into the darkness. Possibly she had been at sea for a
+long time and knew nothing of the war. How she must have marvelled at
+this strange and dreadful welcome from the Isle of Wight. We went to our
+beds that night with a feeling of perfect security.</p>
+
+<p>On land, too, we have had our excitements. Yesterday afternoon, when the
+heather-clad slopes of Headon Hill were crowded with picnickers, there
+was a sudden alarm of spies. Some men, reported to have been conversing
+in German, were said to have been peering into cracks in the ground and
+otherwise behaving in a most suspicious manner. The alarm was given, and
+almost instantly, springing as it were from the very bowels of the
+earth, came some half-dozen soldiers running with rifles and fixed
+bayonets. Amid the shouts of the children they spread about the heather
+in their hunt, but nothing came of it, for the "spies," though they were
+caught, turned out to be some Italians resident in Totland Bay and
+fervently British in their sympathies.</p>
+
+<p>I mentioned last week that we had a children's maid, a German, in our
+household. Since then, in obedience to the Act, she has been registered
+as an "alien enemy." I took her by train to Newport for that purpose. On
+arriving at the station I hailed a fly. "Where to, Sir?" said the
+driver. "To the police-station," I answered, and the man broke out into
+a grin. "It isn't a serious offence," I added, but I doubt if he
+believed me. At the police-station, however, they were quite prepared
+for us, and in a very few minutes Maria Hasewitz&mdash;that is her eminently
+German name&mdash;had had all the particulars of her birth-place, her age,
+her height, and her personal appearance entered on a blue form by a
+jocose and affable sergeant. "Brown eyes, I <i>think</i>," said the sergeant;
+"height, five feet four inches; no beard <i>or</i> moustache, ha-ha. Now sign
+here and make a mark with your left thumb in this space. That'll pin you
+down; no escape after that, ha-ha." He produced a board covered with
+some black sticky substance, dabbed her thumb in it, dabbed it hard on
+the paper, and, lo, Maria Hasewitz had been registered and had
+undertaken not to move five miles from Totland Bay without a special
+permit.</p>
+
+<p>At present this particular alien enemy is engaged, together with all the
+other available female members of the household, in making pyjamas for
+our soldiers. Wonderful deeds are being done all round me with scissors
+and needle and thread. A sewing-machine has been requisitioned.
+Button-holes are being manufactured with immense expedition. A good deal
+of "basting" is being got through. In my illimitable ignorance I had
+hitherto imagined that basting was something that you did to a joint of
+meat with a big ladle and some gravy. If you did it sufficiently the
+joint came out succulent, if not it became dry and you abused the
+butcher. However, we live and learn. Part, at any rate, of three suits
+of pyjamas that are to go to the Red Cross to-day has been severely and
+completely basted without either gravy or a ladle.</p>
+
+<p class="author">R. C. L.</p><br />
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%">
+<a href="images/161.png">
+<img src="images/161.png" width="100%" alt="WELL MET!" /></a>
+<h3>WELL MET!</h3>
+<h5>GREAT BRITAIN JOINS HER ALLIES IN THE FIELD.</h5>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>
+
+<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2>
+
+<p>Even war has its humours. "In the midst of perfect peace the enemy
+surprises us," is a sentence from a proclamation not by the King of the
+<span class="sc">Belgians</span> but by the <span class="sc">German Kaiser</span>.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="sc">Wilhelm II.</span> is said to be extremely annoyed in his capacity as a British
+Admiral that he is not being kept fully informed as to the movements of
+our Fleet.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>The danger, of course, of a fondness for a place in the sun is that one
+may get burnt.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>The coming generation would certainly seem to be all right. Even
+children are taking part in the fray. The Boy Scouts are helping
+manfully here, and at Li&eacute;ge the Germans, we are told, used nippers for
+cutting wire entanglements.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>A vivid idea of the horrors of the return journey from the Continent to
+England after the declaration of war may be gained from the fact that a
+lady, in recounting her experiences in a contemporary, states that she
+was thankful to get back to Battersea.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>General <span class="sc">Villa</span>, it is stated, has now virtually proclaimed his
+independence of General <span class="sc">Carranza</span>, and hostilities are said to be
+imminent. We caution these gentlemen, however, that we are not prepared
+at this juncture to take a great deal of interest in their little war,
+and, if they take our advice, they will postpone it.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>At the present moment, fortunately, one does not hear much of the sex
+war, but sex-pride compels us to draw attention to an account in <i>The
+Liverpool Echo</i> of a recent agricultural show, from which we learn that
+"in a class for cows, in which there was a score of entries, Mr. S.
+Sanday won with pedigree dairy bulls."</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>The news that a large number of yachts had been placed at the disposal
+of the Admiralty was, no doubt, responsible for a statement in <i>The
+Birkenhead News</i> of the 8th inst., to the effect that the Hoylake Town
+Band, consisting of Bavarians, in a moment of patriotic fervour during
+the crisis struck up "<i>Der Yacht am Rhein</i>."</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 35%">
+<a href="images/162a.png">
+<img src="images/162a.png" width="100%" alt="The silly idiots have given me an 1870 time-table." /></a>
+<br /><span class="caption"><span class="sc"><i>German Kaiser</i></span>. "Donnerwetter! No wonder I've missed my
+appointment. The silly idiots have given me an 1870 time-table."</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>Overheard in the heather of a grouse moor:&mdash;"What ho! The Moratorium."</p>
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>In feline circles it is being pointed out with some pride that not only
+are there Dogs of Wars but that Active Service Kits are being advertised
+very freely.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%">
+<a href="images/162b.png">
+<img src="images/162b.png" width="100%" alt="AT THE OFFICIAL PRESS BUREAU." /></a>
+<h4>AT THE OFFICIAL PRESS BUREAU.</h4>
+<p><span class="sc"><i>Mr. F. E. Smith</i></span> (<i>against his gallant instincts</i>). "Permit me, Madam."</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>"We, as a party," says Mr. <span class="sc">Keir Hardie</span> in <i>The Labour Leader</i>, "surely
+have a right to make a special protest against this altogether useless
+and unnecessary conflict." The <span class="sc">Kaiser's</span> address, <span class="sc">Keir</span>, is Potsdam,
+Berlin (Germany).</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>We rejoice to hear that the thousand fresh herrings which a certain
+cosmopolitan financier purchased at the outbreak of the war to store up
+have one and all gone bad.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>Paris now has a "Rue de Li&eacute;ge." And, in order to obviate any feeling of
+jealousy, a certain virulent microbe which has just been discovered by a
+Belgian scientist is, we hear, to be called the "Wilhelm Germ."</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>We trust that the Dutch are taking every precaution to protect the
+Palace of Peace at the Hague.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>Brick-box, the Irish Guards' pet terrier, has been sent for the present
+to a dogs' home. In the event of their going abroad the Irish Guards
+hope to bring back with them a certain other dog who seems to have gone
+mad.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>The British Isles have been defeated at Lawn Tennis, but we really
+shan't mind so long as we win the war.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>"On shop after shop in Paris," says <i>The Evening News</i>, "is the notice,
+'Maison ferm&eacute;e &agrave; cante du de d&eacute;part du patron et les employ&eacute;s sous les
+drapeaux Fran&ccedil;ais.'" Sorry, <i>Evening News</i>, but we cannot believe your
+statement in its entirety. We are afraid you did not get it confirmed by
+the Official Press Bureau.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>According to the St. Petersburg <i>Gazette</i> the Germans have arrested the
+Grand Duke <span class="sc">Constantine Constantinovitch</span> at Badwildungen. The Russian
+Government admits that the <span class="sc">Grand Duke</span> has published several volumes of
+verse.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>According to a statement in <i>The Globe</i> "the German liner, <i>Belgia</i>,
+having run short of coal, put in at Newport (Mon.) to-day, and was
+seized as a prize. She has over &pound;250,000 worth of food on board,
+including 400 tons of cheese, 73 German reservists, and also a large
+amount of specie." The last two items must, of course, be regarded as
+emergency rations.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" /><br />
+
+<center>An unfortunate misprint:&mdash;</center><br />
+
+<center>"WAR NEWS IN A FEW LIES."</center><br />
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%">
+<a href="images/163.png">
+<img src="images/163.png" width="100%" alt="THE MONOPOLIST" /></a>
+<h3>THE MONOPOLIST.</h3>
+<p><i>Late Arrival</i> (<i>wishing to put his machine in bicycle rack</i>). "<span class="sc">Well,
+upon my word, this is preposterous! Caddie, who put his bicycle like
+that?</span>"</p>
+<p><i>Caddie.</i> "<span class="sc">Can't say for sure, Sir. The Kaiser, I should think.</span>"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>HOW WAR IS "MADE IN GERMANY."</h2>
+
+<center>(<i>Extract from the <span class="sc">Kaiser's</span> Diary.</i>)</center>
+
+<p>Letter captured bearing mark of Venezuela Consulate at Berlin. Stamp not
+put on straight. Insult to me&mdash;therefore to the flag. Proceed to issue
+ultimatum to Venezuela. Venezuela omits to concede one of the 421 points
+raised. Declare war on Venezuela and publish address to my
+people:&mdash;"Owing to this wicked and determined challenge to Our nation,
+We have been forced, greatly against Our wish, into a quarrel with a
+powerful and designing enemy," etc., etc.</p>
+
+<p>Consignment of Chicago sausages, arriving Hamburg, is found to bear
+label "The Best." Deliberate blow at German supremacy. Germany is the
+Sausage Queen. Ultimatum to United States. Reply unsatisfactory, so
+declare war. Speech to my people:&mdash;"Owing to this wicked," etc.</p>
+
+<p>Despatch from Pomeranian farming district to effect that a Cochin-China
+hen has pecked at representation of German Eagle in picture-book. At
+once issued ultimatum to Cochin-China demanding humble and complete
+apology, otherwise war would be declared. Received immediate reply,
+stating that as Cochin-China belongs at present to France I may save
+myself the trouble of a fresh declaration of war. Do so.</p>
+
+<p>Read statement that "heat in neighbourhood of equator surpasses that of
+any other part of the world." See in this a direct challenge to our
+sovereignty. <i>We</i> are the hottest stuff in the world. Declare war on all
+countries abutting on equator. Speech to my people:&mdash;"Owing to this
+wicked," etc.</p>
+
+<p>Hear South Pole Republic showing signs of activity. Involves serious
+menace to our pacific plans. Issue ultimatum. Hear later that President
+is a penguin. As, however, withdrawal of ultimatum is out of the
+question, have despatched warships. Speech to my people:&mdash;"Owing to this
+wicked," etc.</p>
+
+<p>Having five minutes before lunch, declare war on Spain, Portugal, Tibet,
+Lapland and the Principality of Monaco. Reasons and ultimata to follow.</p>
+
+<p>Declare war on Bosnia and Herzegovina, but subsequently remember that
+these territories were recently absorbed by my ally. Undignified to
+cancel ultimatum, so declare war on said ally.</p>
+
+<p>Make painful discovery that, in spite of overtime at Imperial printing
+works, I am out of ultimatum forms. Urgent instructions have been sent
+to hasten delivery of forms, which are of course so printed that only
+the name of the offending country has to be filled in.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>Apparently no more countries remain to be challenged. Must find some at
+all costs.</p>
+
+<p>Sudden inspiration. Have issued ultimatum to my own country that, if she
+does not find fresh countries for me to fight before midnight, war will
+ensue.</p>
+
+<p><i>Midnight.</i> No new countries found. I declare war on Germany.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h4>The Journalistic Manner.</h4>
+
+<p>"Every inch of Belgium will be fought for foot by foot."&mdash;<i>Daily
+Telegraph.</i></p>
+
+<hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
+<h2>THE OLD ORDER CHANGES.</h2>
+
+<p>A thousand years ago I won a cup for jumping. It was not a very good
+cup, but then it was not a very good jump. Such as the cup is, however,
+it stands on a shelf in my library, and I have ways of directing the
+attention of visitors to it. For instance, if a collector of old prints
+is coming to dinner, I hang my oldest print just above the cup, ready
+for him; we take our&mdash;or better, his&mdash;cigars into the library, and I
+say, "Oh, look here, I picked this print up last week; the man said it
+was a genuine Eyre and Spottiswoode; you might give me your opinion." He
+gives me his opinion ... and then his eye wanders down. I see him
+reading the inscription on the cup.</p>
+
+<p>The inscription says: "Long Jump, 1739," or some such date. "First
+Prize, won by&nbsp;&mdash;&mdash;" and then my name very big and splendid. Underneath
+comes the school crest, followed by the motto, "<i>Dat Deus Incrementum</i>,"
+though I have never jumped any further since. Its shape is the ordinary
+sherry-glass shape. It is my only cup, and I am proud of it.</p>
+
+<p>I look up as I write, and I see the&mdash;by the way, I don't know if you
+have ever tried "looking up as you write." It is a common thing for
+reflective writers to say they do, but you should never believe them. It
+is impossible to write properly when looking somewhere else. What we do
+is to stop and slew our necks round, and then take a fresh dip in the
+ink. Well, slewing my neck round as I stop writing, I see my precious
+cup standing on its shelf, and ... horror! It is standing upside down!</p>
+
+<p>This comes as a surprise to you, but it is no surprise to me. The thing
+has been going on for months. It is months ago that I first spoke to
+Celia about it.</p>
+
+<p>"It's Jane," she said. "She always puts it like that when she's been
+dusting."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but what for? Just to catch the eye?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose because you always stand glasses upside down when you've
+cleaned them&mdash;to keep the dust out."</p>
+
+<p>"But if she'd only think a moment she'd see that I don't drink out of
+this, and that glasses don't have 'First Prize, won by&nbsp;&mdash;&mdash; '"</p>
+
+<p>"Jane isn't here to think, she's here to work."</p>
+
+<p>This seemed to be a distinction drawn between Jane and me.</p>
+
+<p>"You see what I mean," I said, "don't you? It's very difficult to read
+the cup upside down. A stranger mightn't know who&mdash;er&mdash;who had won it."</p>
+
+<p>"But don't you always turn it back again? I do, if ever I see it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash; Oh, well, it doesn't matter."</p>
+
+<p>I went back to the library. It was difficult to explain why I minded;
+because, after all, to fill a pipe, light it and sit down to work every
+morning is very little less trouble than to turn a cup round, fill a
+pipe, light it and sit down to work every morning. Anything regular soon
+gets taken for granted. And yet I was annoyed. I think it was the
+<i>silliness</i> of standing a First Prize upside down which annoyed me. That
+and the apparent difficulty of getting into communication with Jane
+about it.</p>
+
+<p>For it was difficult. One day I went very humbly to Celia and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I know I'm a baby about it. Forgive me. But it's getting on my mind. Do
+tell Jane about the cup."</p>
+
+<p>"It's awfully hard," she said, after a little thought. "You see, it's
+such a very, very small thing that it never seems quite the right moment
+for it. And if, after I'd told her, she said 'What?' I couldn't possibly
+say it again."</p>
+
+<p>"You must be very articulate the first time. Lead the conversation
+slowly round to long-jumping or the difficulty of reading on your head,
+and then casually but articulately&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we'll see," said Celia. "Of course, if I ever caught her doing
+it, I'd tell her. Perhaps I shall."</p>
+
+<p>Well, we saw. We saw that the thing still went on. The direct approach
+to Jane was evidently impossible. So I tried sarcasm.</p>
+
+<p>Sarcasm, directed into the blue in the hope of hitting the person you
+want, may not be effective, but it does relieve the feelings. I had a
+thoroughly sarcastic morning all to myself. My deadly irony took the
+form of turning <i>everything</i> in the library upside-down. The cup was in
+position already; I turned up two pewter mugs (third prizes in
+Consolation Races), the flower bowls, the cigarette box, the lamp, a
+stool, half-a-dozen pictures, two photographs and the mahogany clock.
+They all stood on their heads and sneered at Jane. "Why don't you do the
+thing properly while you're about it?" they said to her. I felt
+extremely well after I had finished.</p>
+
+<p>Celia stood in the door and gurgled to herself.</p>
+
+<p>"You baby," she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary," I said, "I have made a dignified yet subtle protest.
+You wouldn't move in the matter so I had to do something. I flatter
+myself that a sense of her past silliness will rush over Jane like a
+flood when she comes in here to-morrow morning."</p>
+
+<p>"If Jane's flooded at all," said Celia, "it will be with the idea that
+the master's mad. But I don't think she'll notice it particularly."</p>
+
+<p>Next morning everything was right side up again&mdash;except the cup.</p>
+
+<p>"It's no good," I told Celia; "she is obviously determined. Perhaps it
+means more than we think to her to have that cup upside-down. Its
+beauty, the memories it brings back, the symbolism of it, these things
+touch some hidden spring.... Still I <i>am</i> master in my own house." And I
+turned the cup round again....</p>
+
+<p>Another month passed and I could bear it no longer. Yesterday I made up
+my mind. I would speak to Jane myself. I turned my First Prize the right
+way up, and then looked for Celia.</p>
+
+<p>"Celia," I said firmly, "where is Jane?"</p>
+
+<p>"She's gone out," said Celia softly. "Her&mdash;her man goes off to-day."</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>An hour later, with bands playing and people cheering, they wheeled out
+of barracks, brown and businesslike. Jane was in the front somewhere,
+waving her handkerchief&mdash;not such a silly Jane, after all. And at the
+back, very proud for her, Celia and I stood silent, with a something in
+the throat that had come there suddenly....</p>
+
+<p>And this morning the cup was upside-down again. Well, well, if she likes
+it that way, that way let it be.</p>
+
+<p>But take warning, O Jane! When your man&mdash;here's luck to him!&mdash;comes
+back, then I shall assert myself once more. My cup, "Long Jump, 1739.
+First Prize," shall stand the right way up; either that or you leave my
+service. I am determined about this....</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile we can share the daily paper.</p>
+
+<p class="author">A. A. M.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>"Dear <i>Mr. Punch</i>,&mdash;You may remember that <span class="sc">Queen Victoria</span> recorded in her
+<i>Journal in the Highlands</i> that 'Vicky sat down on a wasps' nest.'
+'<span class="sc">Vicky</span>,' of course, was destined later to be the mother of <span class="sc">Wilhelm II</span>.
+Can we not see in the present situation rather a remarkable example of
+heredity?&mdash;Yours, etc., <span class="sc">Medico</span>."</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>From a <i>Daily Chronicle</i> special correspondent&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"A little meat and plenty of vegetables take one a long
+way&mdash;lettuce, soup, eggs, en surprise, peas, dessert, voila&mdash;even
+the very poor can afford such a dinner in Brussels."</p></div>
+
+<p>A seven-course dinner is certainly more than we can afford in England.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%">
+<a href="images/165.png">
+<img src="images/165.png" width="100%" alt="IT&#39;S AN ILL WIND" /></a>
+<h3>"IT'S AN ILL WIND ..."</h3>
+<p><i>Old Cock Grouse.</i> "<span class="sc">I see they've all gone shooting eagles.</span>"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>THE PRIVATE VIEW.</h2>
+
+<p>I take train home every evening from one of our best stations. Crowned
+heads fairly tumble over one another there in their anxiety to get a
+first glimpse of London. Personages are matters of daily arrival.</p>
+
+<p>The other night I reached my station just as a Personage was due. A
+drive led from his platform to the outside world. On one side of it were
+lined up the public six deep. On the other side of it was the left
+luggage office. Four policemen saw to it that no person crossed to the
+other side except on business.</p>
+
+<p>I began crossing.</p>
+
+<p>"Not that side," said Robert, "unless you want the left luggage."</p>
+
+<p>"The left luggage," I explained, "is my one desire."</p>
+
+<p>I crossed.</p>
+
+<p>The clerk was unusually prompt.</p>
+
+<p>"What's yours?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Since you ask," I replied, "I could do with a small stout; or,
+alternatively, a sherry and bitters."</p>
+
+<p>He kept silence, but with a touch of urgency in it. It is hard to
+temporize when confronted with a businesslike silence. Yet my view of
+the drive was worth fighting for.</p>
+
+<p>"I might leave my watch," I continued after a brief hesitation, "but the
+fact is I left it last week with my only godson. Have you a godson? You
+know what they are&mdash;always wanting something."</p>
+
+<p>"Come along, now," said the official brusquely. Robert, too, was
+becoming restive.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well; I will deposit my hat. You will be careful with it, won't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>He accepted my hat untenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"What name?"</p>
+
+<p>"George," I said; "but they call me 'Winkles' at home."</p>
+
+<p>He was a man not easily moved. He wrote down "George" without hesitation
+on a bit of pink paper and asked for twopence as he gave it to me.</p>
+
+<p>Just then, to my great relief, the Boat Express arrived. I searched in
+all my pockets and at last found half-a-sovereign.</p>
+
+<p>I told you he was a man not easily moved. He gave me nine-and-tenpence
+without a word, but with more halfpennies than was quite nice.</p>
+
+<p>There was a stir in the crowd. I must hang on yet a little, or give it
+up, or stand six deep. I cannot stand standing six deep. But it is the
+duty of every citizen to welcome Personages.</p>
+
+<p>Then I bethought me of my pink paper.</p>
+
+<p>I summoned the man who was not easily moved and presented it. "The
+deposit," I explained, "was a hat&mdash;a felt hat&mdash;I cannot be sure of the
+size, but at a guess I should put it somewhere between 7 and 8."</p>
+
+<p>But he had already retrieved it.</p>
+
+<p>I took it and replaced it on my head as I turned in the nick of time to
+take it off to the Personage. He gave me a very sweet smile, the memory
+of which I cherish so fondly that I am loth to attribute it to the
+fashionable dent I subsequently discovered in my bowler.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>In the present restriction of Sport we sympathize with that section of
+the Press which makes it a speciality. However, there are outlets; and
+one of our Sporting contemporaries has burst forth into history, as
+follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"Once again England is faced with a crisis. There has been nothing
+like it since Alexander the Great burned his boats and crossed the
+Rubicon."</p></div>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h3>An Infant Prodigy.</h3>
+
+<div class="blockquot">"Although only in his 41st year Mr. F. E. Smith is a Master of Arts&nbsp;..."</div>
+
+<p class="author"><i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%">
+<a href="images/166.png">
+<img src="images/166.png" width="100%" alt="Sorry I must reject you on account of
+your teeth." /></a>
+<p><i>Medical Officer.</i> "<span class="sc">Sorry I must reject you on account of
+your teeth.</span>"</p>
+<p><i>Would-be Recruit.</i> "<span class="sc">Man, ye're making a gran' mistake. I'm no wanting
+to bite the Germans, I'm wanting to shoot 'em.</span>"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>A FIRST CHARGE.</h2>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Punch's</i> appeal is once more for the children. Most earnestly, and
+with great confidence, he begs his readers to care for those little ones
+whose fathers and brothers are serving under the Flag for our country's
+honour and the defence of our homes, or may suffer through loss of work.
+All gifts to the National Relief Fund should be addressed to H.R.H. The
+Prince of Wales, at Buckingham Palace.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>A PLEA FOR PEGASUS.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">Ye mobilisers of that other arm</p>
+<p class="i2">Whose might is famed superior to the sabre's,</p>
+<p class="i0">Who furnish forth the wherewithal to charm</p>
+<p class="i2">The Special Correspondent to his labours,</p>
+<p class="i0">And by whose enterprise we're daily fed on</p>
+<p class="i0">Reports of Armageddon.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">List to my plaint. It is not that I tire</p>
+<p class="i2">Of those despatches&mdash;picturesque effusions&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i0">Which by the witness of a later wire</p>
+<p class="i2">Are proved to rank among the Great Illusions;</p>
+<p class="i0">Though much to be deplored, such news, I'm willing</p>
+<p class="i0">Freely to own, is thrilling.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">But when your pages, shrunken through the scare</p>
+<p class="i2">Of that worst blow of all, a paper famine,</p>
+<p class="i0">Dispense exclusively Bellona's fare,</p>
+<p class="i2">And, failing battle tales, you simply cram in</p>
+<p class="i0">Facts about spies, commodities and prices,</p>
+<p class="i0">I writhe beneath this crisis.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">I can support the other pains of war:</p>
+<p class="i2">Transport disorganised and credit shaken,</p>
+<p class="i0">The fear of hunger knocking at the door,</p>
+<p class="i2">And threepence extra on a pound of bacon;</p>
+<p class="i0">In fact, I'd be the most resigned of creatures</p>
+<p class="i0">If you'd compose your "features."</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">Could you not lift a corner of the mask</p>
+<p class="i2">That makes these solemn days so much more solemn?</p>
+<p class="i0">A very little ray is all I ask</p>
+<p class="i2">To light the utter darkness&mdash;say a column</p>
+<p class="i0">Of "stories" which your slang describes as "snappy;"</p>
+<p class="i0">With these I could be happy;</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">With these my topic Muse I might entice;</p>
+<p class="i2">But war has left her mute, and me despairing.</p>
+<p class="i0">They call for horses; must I sacrifice</p>
+<p class="i2">The steed with whom I've taken many an airing?</p>
+<p class="i0">Poor Pegasus&mdash;and none too well-conditioned!</p>
+<p class="i0">Must <i>he</i> be requisitioned?</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>From parallel columns in <i>The Evening News:&mdash;</i></p>
+
+<div class="table">
+<table summary="Item from The Evening News">
+<tr><td>"Haelen is forty-five miles northwest of Li&eacute;ge;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+<td>"The centre of the battle was at Haelen(thirty miles</td></tr>
+<tr><td> it is fifty miles east of Brussels."</td><td>  northwest of Li&eacute;ge and
+thirty miles from Brussels)."</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<p>This is simply to deceive the Germans.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%">
+<a href="images/167.png">
+<img src="images/167.png" width="100%" alt="THE WORLD&#39;S ENEMY." /></a>
+<h3>THE WORLD'S ENEMY.</h3>
+<p><span class="sc">The Kaiser.</span> "WHO GOES THERE?"</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Spirit of Carnage.</span> "A FRIEND&mdash;YOUR ONLY ONE."</p>
+</div>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%">
+<a href="images/169.png">
+<img src="images/169.png" width="100%" alt="Don&#39;t go too far
+out, girls." /></a>
+<p><i>Fond Mother</i> (<i>full of war news</i>). "<span class="sc">Don't go too far
+out, girls. You can't be too careful with all this fighting going on.</span>"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>MR. PUNCH'S HOLIDAY STORIES.</h2>
+
+<center><span class="sc">II.&mdash;The Island Cup Race.</span></center>
+
+<p>Cowes week was drawing near to its brilliant climax. Through the blue
+waters of the Solent a swarm of palatial steam yachts, saucy outriggers,
+graceful cutters and wasp-like motor boats jostled one another in their
+efforts to gain safe anchorage after the strenuous excitement of the
+day's racing. Everywhere could be heard the clank of mooring chains,
+mingled with the full-flavoured oaths of sailor men.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually silence fell upon the scene, broken only by the melodious
+murmur of numberless gramophones and the soft strains of the band of the
+Royal Yacht Squadron.</p>
+
+<p>As the sun descended lower beneath the horizon the dusk deepened, and
+presently thousands of Chinese lanterns twinkled through the gloom from
+mast and yard-arm. Lady Margaret Tamerton, leaning idly against the
+barnacle of her brother's yacht, the <i>Seamaid</i>, drank in the beauty of
+the night with deep inhalations.</p>
+
+<p>The voice of young Lord Tamerton at her side at last broke the spell of
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Madge," he said softly, "Wonderson has not yet arrived. If he doesn't
+come, our chances of winning the Island Cup to-morrow are practically
+hopeless."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't worry, Fred," replied Lady Margaret. "Ralph never fails....
+Listen, he is coming now."</p>
+
+<p>And, indeed, the muffled beat of oars was heard approaching from the
+darkness. Soon a slim white boat came gliding up to the prow of the
+<i>Seamaid</i>. Ralph Wonderson, a tall athletic figure in his immaculate
+flannels and straw boater, poised himself on the gunwale, gathered
+himself for a spring, and leaped with the agility of a cat to the
+bowsprit of the yacht. Sliding rapidly down this, he nodded easily to
+Lord Tamerton and clasped the beautiful figure of Lady Margaret in his
+arms.</p>
+
+<p>"S-sh!" he whispered warningly, laying his fingers on her lips, as she
+would have spoken. "Nobody must know I am here till to-morrow. That is
+why I came aboard like that. Listen. Your cousin, Sir Ernest Scrivener,
+<i>alias</i> Marmaduke Moorsdyke, is here, and is plotting to kidnap you.
+There is a traitor somewhere on this yacht who supplies him with all
+information. The attempt is to be made to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"To-night!" murmured Lady Margaret in horror. "What am I to do? His
+ingenuity is dev&mdash;er&mdash;fiendish."</p>
+
+<p>"It shall be baffled," replied Ralph reassuringly. "I have thought it
+all out. It would be dangerous for you to leave the yacht because, in
+view of to-morrow's race, neither your brother nor I could accompany
+you. There is only one place on board where you can pass the night in
+assured safety&mdash;the crow's-nest."</p>
+
+<p>"The crow's-nest," repeated Lady Margaret, clapping her hands. "What
+fun! I shall be rocked to sleep beautifully, and of <i>course</i> they will
+never think of looking for me there."</p>
+
+<p>"Come," said Ralph, taking her hand. "There is no time to lose, and none
+of the crew must be allowed to see you. We don't know whom we can
+trust."</p>
+
+<p>Snatching her in his arms, he carried her easily up the frail rigging,
+his mountain training showing in every step he took. Five minutes later
+he returned alone and dropped noiselessly to the deck. He looked round
+cautiously; there was nobody in view except Lord Tamerton.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right, Fred," he whispered. "Let us turn in."</p>
+
+<p>They descended the broad staircase arm-in-arm. No sooner had they
+disappeared than a dark figure crept with a low chuckle from underneath
+a coil of rope and dropped silently over the yacht's counter.</p>
+
+<p>A phosphorescent gleam disturbed the darkness of the water.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>Early next morning Ralph Wonderson ran nimbly up the rigging of the
+<i>Seamaid</i>, carrying a tray loaded with toast, eggs, tea and marmalade.
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>He tapped at the door of the crow's-nest. There was no response. After a
+pause he tapped again and cautiously pushed open the door. The
+crow's-nest was empty!</p>
+
+<p>"Betrayed," cried Ralph, clapping his hand to his forehead. A moment
+later two soft-boiled eggs devastated the snowy whiteness of the
+<i>Seamaid's</i> deck.</p>
+
+<p>Despite their precautions, Lady Margaret had been spirited away during
+the night. As soon as he had recovered from the shock of the discovery,
+Ralph ran to Lord Tamerton and acquainted him with the terrible news.
+There was a period of agonised and fruitless discussion.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait! I have an idea," exclaimed Ralph presently. He pressed an
+electric bell, and a steward appeared almost simultaneously.</p>
+
+<p>"Jenkins, fetch me a race card," said Ralph.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Sir," replied the steward. "I anticipated your request and have it
+here."</p>
+
+<p>Ralph and Lord Tamerton bent their heads over the card.</p>
+
+<p>"See," said the former. "It is as I hoped. Among the entries for the
+Island Cup we have the <i>Watersnake</i>, owner Sir Ernest Scrivener. He will
+sail her himself, that is certain. It is equally certain that he has
+Madge on board. If I know anything of him he will not let her out of his
+sight. Fred, by yonder centreboard I swear that before the race is over
+we will win her back."</p>
+
+<p><i>Bang!</i> It was the signal for the competitors to line up for the great
+race for the world-famous Island Cup.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>Of all the thousands who pressed themselves against the straining booms
+none realised that the race was for a prize far more precious than a
+mere cup of gold valued at two thousand guineas.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Watersnake</i> was in front, a clear hundred yards separating her from
+the pursuing <i>Seamaid</i>. All the other yachts lagged hopelessly in the
+rear.</p>
+
+<p>Scattering the foam at their bows, the two boats rushed along the blue
+lane of clear water which lay between the booms. Ralph, at the wheel of
+the <i>Seamaid</i>, gazed anxiously forward. Could they do it?</p>
+
+<p>"Let loose the spinnaker," he commanded gruffly. "Haul on the signal
+halyard. Lower the keelson."</p>
+
+<p>The orders were swiftly executed, and the <i>Seamaid</i> leaped forward with
+a bound. The distance between the two vessels rapidly lessened.</p>
+
+<p>"Fred," said Ralph, "you must take the wheel for a time. I'm going
+forward to board the <i>Watersnake</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Lord Tamerton obediently grasped the wheel, while Ralph ran forward and
+crept along the bowsprit. The intervening space was now very small.
+Bracing himself for the effort, he shot through the air and landed upon
+the deck of the <i>Watersnake</i>. The first object which met his gaze was
+Lady Margaret, her wrists bound, lying beside the barnacle.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ernest Scrivener uttered a horrible oath as he recognised the
+features of his successful rival. For an instant he loosened his grasp
+on the wheel. The vessel yawed in her course and he was compelled to
+seize the spokes again.</p>
+
+<p>Before Scrivener could command his wits sufficiently to shout an order
+to his crew, Ralph had caught up Lady Margaret in his arms and dashed to
+the side of the vessel. Deprived of his skilled command, the <i>Seamaid</i>
+had dropped behind; it was impossible to leap back to her decks.</p>
+
+<p>Without hesitation, Ralph dived into the water, and still supporting the
+now unconscious form of Lady Margaret, swam rapidly towards the yacht.
+Two minutes later he was gripping the wheel and concentrating all his
+immense will power upon the task of winning the race.</p>
+
+<p>Inch by inch the <i>Seamaid</i> crept up to her rival. Despite all
+Scrivener's efforts, the gap grew less and less.</p>
+
+<p>And now the winning post was close at hand. Could it be done? Could it
+be done? The frantic spectators behind the boom shouted themselves
+hoarse. Lord Tamerton bit his thumbs till the blood ran.</p>
+
+<p>Nearer drew the <i>Seamaid</i>. Nearer and nearer. Nearer still. At the
+critical moment, Ralph, with a mighty effort, pushed down the wheel.</p>
+
+<p>A bare three inches parted the <i>Watersnake</i> from the winning post when
+the slight shudder ran through her which told that the prow of the
+<i>Seamaid</i> had touched her stern. The bump had been made; the race was
+won.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>Ralph Wonderson stood with the magnificent Island Cup in his hand,
+filled to the brim with bubbling champagne.</p>
+
+<p>"To the restoration of the fortunes of the house of Tamerton," he said
+as he raised it to his lips.</p>
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%">
+<a href="images/170.png">
+<img src="images/170.png" width="100%" alt="they&#39;ll still know you by
+your white feather" /></a>
+<p><i>The Turkey Buzzard</i> (<i>to the Sea Eagle</i>). "You may call
+yourself a Turkey Buzzard if you like, but they'll still know you by
+your white feather."</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>THE VIKING SPIRIT.</h2>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>["The week-end was dull and much rain fell, but this did not spoil
+the visitors' pleasure. The sight of the sea in a turbulent mood was
+a great attraction."&mdash;<i>Seaside note in daily paper.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">It has rained for a week down at Shrimpton;</p>
+<p class="i2">'Tis zero or less in the shade;</p>
+<p class="i0">You can paddle your feet in the principal street</p>
+<p class="i2">And bathe on the stony parade;</p>
+<p class="i0">But still on our holiday pleasures</p>
+<p class="i2">No thoughts of discomfort intrude,</p>
+<p class="i0">As we whisper, "This sight is a bit of all right,"</p>
+<p class="i2">For the sea's in a turbulent mood.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">There's nobody harks to the pierrots;</p>
+<p class="i2">For music we don't care a straw;</p>
+<p class="i0">And the "comic" in vain chants the usual strain</p>
+<p class="i2">Concerning his mother-in-law.</p>
+<p class="i0">Unbought are the beach's bananas;</p>
+<p class="i2">Our souls are all far above food;</p>
+<p class="i0">Not a man of us dreams of consuming ice-creams</p>
+<p class="i2">When the sea's in a turbulent mood.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">You may prate of the fervour of Phoebus</p>
+<p class="i2">Of days that are calm and serene,</p>
+<p class="i0">When a tint as of teak is imposed on the cheek</p>
+<p class="i2">That is commonly pallid (when clean);</p>
+<p class="i0">But <i>we</i> have a taste that's &aelig;sthetic;</p>
+<p class="i2">Mere sunshine seems vulgar and crude,</p>
+<p class="i0">As we gather to gaze with artistic amaze</p>
+<p class="i2">On the sea in a turbulent mood.</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><i>The Beekeepers' Record</i>, referring to the photograph of a group of
+prominent beekeepers, says:&mdash;"Mr. Dadant's well-known features are
+easily spotted." We are sorry, but a little cold cream will sometimes do
+wonders.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>
+
+<h2>ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.</h2>
+
+<p>"<span class="sc">For nuts.</span>"&mdash;The origin of this curious phrase to indicate incompetence
+in any pursuit or pastime&mdash;<i>e.g.</i>, "He can't play for nuts," etc.&mdash;is
+obscure; but its antiquity is incontestable. Thus one of the fragments
+of <span class="sc">Ennius</span> runs: "<i>Nucibus non ludere possum</i>." Perhaps the most
+plausible theory is that which views the phrase as a heritage from our
+simian ancestors, among whom nuts were the common medium of exchange. On
+this assumption a monkey&mdash;whether gorilla, chimpanzee, baboon or
+orangutan&mdash;who was described as unable to do anything "for nuts,"
+<i>i.e.</i>, for pecuniary remuneration, was obviously inefficient. Another
+explanation, which we believe is supported by Mr. <span class="sc">Eustace Miles</span>, scouts
+the notion of an ancient origin of the phrase and fixes the <i>terminus a
+quo</i> by the recent introduction of vegetarian diet. Nuts being a prime
+staple of the votaries of this cult, a person who cannot do anything
+"for nuts" means, by implication, a carnivorous savage who is incapable
+of progress. Lastly, there remains the ingenious solution that the
+phrase as commonly employed involves a misspelling. It ought to be "four
+nuts," and playing four nuts was an ancient but simple game, which may
+be connected with the cognate phrase about knowing or not knowing "how
+many beans make five."</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="sc">Polly Perkins: Was she a real person?</span>&mdash;A careful search in the registers
+of Paddington in the early and mid-Victorian period reveals so many Mary
+Perkinses as to render the task of identification peculiarly difficult.
+It will be remembered, however, that the heroine of the famous ballad is
+described as not only "little," but "pretty;" indeed, she is spoken of
+as being "as beautiful as a butterfly and as proud as a queen." So far,
+however, these clues to her appearance have yielded no solid results.
+The representatives of the famous family of brewers have been unable to
+throw any light on the subject, and an application to the managing
+director of the London and General Omnibus Company has also proved
+unproductive. (Polly Perkins "married the conductor of a twopenny
+'bus.") Her brilliant appearance suggests a possible relationship with
+Dr. <span class="sc">Perkins</span>, the famous pioneer of the aniline dye industry; but this,
+as well as the theory that she was a descendant of <span class="sc">Perkin Warbeck</span>, is
+mere surmise.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%">
+<a href="images/171.png">
+<img src="images/171.png" width="100%" alt="THE OLD REFRAIN." /></a>
+<h3>THE OLD REFRAIN.</h3>
+<p><i>First Old Lady.</i> "<span class="sc">My dear, what <i>do</i> you think of this war? Isn't it
+terrible?</span>"</p>
+<p><i>Second Old Lady.</i> "<span class="sc">Awful! But it can't last long; <i>The Powers will
+surely intervene</i>.</span>"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="sc">The first man who ate an oyster.</span>&mdash;The most widely circulated account of
+this feat is that which ascribes it to the notorious Roman epicure
+Publius Esurius Gulo, who was nicknamed Bellipotens from the rotundity
+of his figure. According to the account given in the <i>Gastronomica</i> of
+Voracius Bulbo (ii. 18) Gulo was always making daring experiments, and,
+when bathing at Baiae on a very hot day, and seeing a bivalve which had
+rashly opened its jaws in the sun, he dexterously inserted a stone and
+conveyed the contents to his mouth on the point of the pin of his
+<i>fibula</i>. He was subsequently created a proconsul by <span class="sc">Nero</span>. The only
+drawback connected with this account is the fact that oysters were
+recognised as delicacies in Rome at least a hundred years before <span class="sc">Nero</span>.
+It is right to add that the genuineness of Bulbo's <i>Gastronomica</i> has
+been seriously impugned, the best authorities (including <span class="sc">Francatelli</span>)
+being convinced that the treatise was the work of a sixteenth-century
+<i>farceur</i> who belonged to the royal house of Paphlagonia.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="sc">Parlour Pathos, Specimens of.</span>&mdash;The best specimens of this interesting
+emotional product are to be found in the words of Royalty Ballads. A
+good instance is to be found in the following choice quatrain:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">Nature cares not whence or how,</p>
+<p class="i2">Nature asks not why;</p>
+<p class="i0">'Tis enough that thou art thou,</p>
+<p class="i2">And that I am I.</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="sc">Comparative Couplets.</span>&mdash;The correct form of this literary disease is as
+follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">A chair without a leg</p>
+<p class="i0">Is like a hen without an egg.</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>But it is emphatically not to be encouraged, as excessive indulgence in
+the habit has been known to lead to the break-up of happy homes.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="sc">Names of Golf Clubs.</span>&mdash;The latest addition to the list is, so far as we
+are aware, the "Sammy," but efforts are being made to induce the St.
+Andrews authorities to sanction the "Biffy," a combination of the
+jigger and the baffy, and the "Duncher," a powerful weapon for
+extricating the ball out of rushes, tar and other viscous lies.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="sc">The Juggins Family</span>.&mdash;This family claims descent from Joskin ap Gwyggan,
+the last native prince who ruled in Dwffryn. The earlier lines in the
+descent are doubtful. The various families claiming to spring from
+Joskin adopted different patronymics in the fifteenth and succeeding
+centuries, amongst which may be noted Joskins, Gherkin, Guggenheimer,
+and Gaga.</p><br />
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 45%">
+<a href="images/172.png">
+<img src="images/172.png" width="100%" alt="Hoard my gold" /></a>
+<p><i>The Patriot.</i> "<span class="sc">Hoard my gold</span>! <span class="sc">I'd starve first</span>!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>MIDDLECOMBE <i>v.</i> PADDLEWICK.</h2>
+
+<h4>I.</h4>
+
+<center><i>Philip Renwick to Charles Holcombe.</i></center>
+
+<p class="Salute">Room 99, X.Y.Z. Offices,<br />
+Whitehall,<br />
+<i>8th August, 1914.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Dear Charlie</span>,&mdash;Can you possibly turn out for us on Thursday next <i>v.</i>
+Paddlewick? We lost to them rather heavily in May last and are anxious
+to give them a sound beating. Their fast bowler is playing for them
+again, I hear, and we absolutely rely on your help. Can you get off for
+the day?</p>
+
+<p class="regards">Yours ever, P. R.</p>
+
+<h4>II.</h4>
+
+<center><i>Charles Holcombe to Philip Renwick.</i></center>
+<p class="Salute">Room 83, P.Q.R. Offices,<br />
+Lombard Street,<br />
+<i>9th August, 1914.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">My Dear Phil</span>,&mdash;Thanks for yours. Will try to manage it next Thursday,
+but am doubtful. My chief, though a capable official, is no sport, and I
+anticipate difficulties. I had a day off only two weeks ago for cricket.
+Will do my best.</p>
+
+<p class="regards">Thine, C. H.</p>
+
+<h4>III.</h4>
+
+<center><i>Charles Holcombe to Philip Renwick.</i></center>
+<p class="Salute">P.Q.R.<br />
+<i>10th August, 1914.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">My Dear Phil</span>,&mdash;Awfully sorry; no luck <i>re</i> Thursday. Boss hopeless. I
+broached the matter this morning (without actually asking for
+permission), but I fear the worst. You had better get another man for
+the Paddlewick match. So sorry.</p>
+
+<p class="regards">Yours ever, <span class="sc">Charlie Holcombe</span>.</p>
+
+<h4>IV.</h4>
+
+<center><i>Philip Renwick to Charles Holcombe.</i></center>
+<p class="Salute">X.Y.Z.<br />
+<i>10th August, 1914.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">My Dear Charlie</span>,&mdash;We shall be absolutely in the cart without you.
+They've got an awfully hot fast bowler. Bartram now tells me he can't
+possibly turn out, and you are the only really decent bat I know. We
+simply <i>can't</i> lose to Paddlewick again&mdash;we shall never hear the last of
+it. (No one need know that you don't play regularly for Middlecombe.) Do
+try your best, old man. Mightn't your Aunt Martha be seriously ill?</p>
+
+<p class="regards">Yours ever, <span class="sc">Phil</span>.
+</p>
+
+<h4>V.</h4>
+
+<center><i>Charles Holcombe to Philip Renwick</i></center>
+<center>(<i>wire.</i>)</center>
+
+
+<p>Aunt Martha dying. All well. Boss absent Thursday, so can explain to him
+afterwards. <span class="sc">Holcombe</span>.</p>
+
+<h4>VI.</h4>
+
+<center><i>Philip Renwick to Charles Holcombe</i></center>
+<center>(<i>wire.</i>)</center>
+
+<p>Good boy. Funeral 11.30. Train Paddington 10.5. Lunch 1.30. Draw 6.30.
+<span class="sc">Philip</span>.</p>
+
+<h4>VII.</h4>
+
+<center><i>Charles Holcombe to Philip Renwick.</i></center>
+<p class="Salute">Room 83, P.Q.R. Offices,<br />
+<i>14th August.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">My Dear Phil</span>,&mdash;I regret that I was forced to leave somewhat hurriedly
+after the game last night. I have nothing to add to what I told you at
+lunch as to the identity of the Paddlewick Spofforth with my chief, of
+whose sporting talent I was in ignorance. But if you should hear of a
+good berth going anywhere I should be extraordinarily grateful.</p>
+
+<p class="regards">Yours ever, <span class="sc">Charlie Holcombe</span>.
+</p>
+
+<p>P.S.&mdash;It was doubly unfortunate (in a way) that I should have scored a
+six and three fours in one over from his bowling.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>OLD STYLE AND NEW.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="sc">I.&mdash;Old Style.</span></h3>
+
+<p><i>He.</i> Has anyone seen the paper?</p>
+
+<p><i>She.</i> I haven't.</p>
+
+<p><i>He.</i> Didn't it come this morning?</p>
+
+<p><i>She.</i> Very likely not. The boy often forgets it. You're the only person
+who ever looks at it.</p>
+
+<p><i>He.</i> Well, I suppose I must wait till I get to the Club; but I dare say
+there isn't anything that matters in it.</p>
+
+<h3><i>Or</i></h3>
+
+<p><i>She.</i> Have you done with that paper, my dear?</p>
+
+<p><i>He.</i> Absolutely; there's nothing in it. There never is. I can't think
+why we waste money in taking it.</p>
+
+<p><i>She.</i> Then perhaps I may have it for a pattern?</p>
+
+<p><i>He.</i> Why, certainly. I've no use for it.</p>
+
+<div class="table">
+<table summary="The whole family in chorus">
+<tr><td><i>The whole family</i> (all together).</td>
+<td><img src="images/172a.gif" alt="long bracket"/></td>
+<td>Has the paper come yet?<br />
+Whats the news?<br />
+where's the paper?<br />
+What about Li&eacute;ge?<br />
+I say, where's the paper?<br />
+Isn't the paper here yet?<br />
+What's the matter with the people?</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<h3><i>Or</i></h3>
+
+<div class="table">
+<table summary="The whole family in chorus again">
+<tr><td><i>The whole family</i> (all together again).&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>
+<td><img src="images/172a.gif" alt="long bracket" /></td>
+<td>I say, father, you might read quicker.<br />
+Can't you tear it in half?<br />
+Do tell us the news.<br />
+Do read it out loud.<br />
+What about Li&eacute;ge? Quick!<br />
+Oh dear, why don't we have ten copies of it?</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div><br />
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"The 'Daily Telegraph' Algeciras correspondent, wiring yesterday,
+says news from Gibraltar reports a naval fight off the Canaries. One
+of the latter was sunk and the other captured and brought to
+Gibraltar."</p>
+
+<p><i>Liverpool Evening Express.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>Our own canary protests indignantly at this treatment of its allies.</p><br />
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>In order to be in the very admirable fashion the L.C.C. has decided, we
+understand, to change the name of Jermyn Street to Jellicoe Lane.</p><br />
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%">
+<a href="images/173.png">
+<img src="images/173.png" width="100%" alt="THE LOCAL TOUCH." /></a>
+<h3>THE LOCAL TOUCH.</h3>
+<p><i>East Anglian.</i> "<span class="sc">Tell yow what that is,
+Sir: that there Kaiser 'e 'ont never be satisfied until 'e's ruined
+Mudborough</span>."</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2>
+
+<center>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</center>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Mr. Dornford Yates</span>, whose name I seem to recall as a contributor to the
+magazines, has written a book of the most agreeable nonsense which he
+has called <i>The Brother of Daphne</i> (<span class="sc">Ward, Lock</span>). For no specially
+apparent reason, since <i>Daphne</i> herself plays but a small part in the
+argument, which is chiefly concerned with the brother and his love
+affairs. This brother, addressed as <i>Boy</i>, was a bit of a dog, and an
+uncommonly lucky dog at that. The adventures he had! He apparently could
+not go out for the simplest walk without meeting some amiable young
+woman, divinely fair and supernaturally witty, with whom he presently
+exchanged airy badinage and, towards the end of the interview, kisses.
+What distressed me a little at first, till I tumbled to the spirit of
+the thing, was the discovery that the charmer was always a fresh one,
+and in consequence that these osculations had, so to speak, no
+matrimonial significance. Perhaps, however, <i>Boy</i> recognised an
+essential similarity in each of his partners. He may, for example, have
+been deceived by the fact that they all talked exactly the same Dolly
+dialogue&mdash;light, frothy and just a little more neatly turned than is the
+common intercourse of mortals. You know the kind of speech I mean. It is
+vastly pleasant and easy to read; but I must decline to believe that any
+young man could have the amazing fortune to meet fifteen pretty girls
+who all had the trick of it. Still, that by no means lessened my
+enjoyment of an entertaining volume, notice of which would be incomplete
+without a word of praise for the illustrations of Mr. C. W. <span class="sc">Wilmshurst</span>,
+a favourite black-and-white artist of mine, whose name is unaccountably
+omitted from the title-page.</p>
+
+<hr class="short"/>
+
+<p>If <span class="sc">Dorothea Conyers</span> knew as much about English syntax as she does about
+Irish, and were as certain in the handling of a story as she is in the
+conduct of a horse, <i>Old Andy</i> (<span class="sc">Methuen</span>) might be taken at a single
+refreshing gallop. As it is, I advise the reader to tackle it piecemeal,
+a brisk run here and there, followed by a considerable breather. For the
+novel is put together in a scrambling fashion, being full of repetitions
+of almost identical scenes and making very little definite way in a
+forward direction. There are the usual Irish peasantry and farmers who
+worship the horse for pecuniary and sentimental reasons, as the
+Israelites worshipped the golden calf; the usual hunting people, who
+either ride straight and are grimly sarcastic or talk very big and go
+for the gates; and the usual English visitors, who astound by their
+guilelessness and simplicity when confronted by aboriginal horse-copers
+and native bogs and stone-walls. If cubbing be included, I should be
+afraid to say how many meets are described in this book, or how many
+hunt-breakfasts and heavy teas in Irish interiors&mdash;interiors of
+cottages, of course, I mean&mdash;resulting in how many tricky deals and
+harmless tosses in the heather and the mud. But if you follow my lead
+there is plenty of pure joy in <i>Old Andy</i>, and the most and the best of
+it perhaps is to be found in the remarks of grooms, servant-girls and
+casual country folk, who as often as not have no kind of connection with
+the thread of the tale. "'If meself an' the Masther wasn't rowlin' rocks
+all the day yestherday, he would be within long ago,' replied the
+covert keeper." "If there is one rabbit with a skinned nose there's a
+hundther, an' they runnin' by mistake to the door they're used to be
+at." Such scattered flowers of speech abound in a book whose very want
+of construction is perhaps symbolical and a reflection of the charming
+incoherence of the Irish mind.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%">
+<a href="images/174.png">
+<img src="images/174.png" width="100%" alt="A BRAVE MAN" /></a>
+<h3>A BRAVE MAN.</h3>
+"<span class="sc">Large lager, waiter</span>."
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>It is my painful experience that, when a novelist sets out to write a
+tale of English country life, the better he is at the job the more
+sombre is the finished product. Mr. <span class="sc">George Stevenson</span> is very good indeed
+at his job; he has sincerity and power, and a certain austere aloofness
+that will take him far; and the result is that <i>Jenny Cartwright</i> (<span class="sc">Lane</span>)
+is about as gloomy a story as ever I read. Above everything else, what I
+noticed about this book was its freedom from all straining after effect.
+Whatever takes place, I fancy Mr. <span class="sc">Stevenson</span> saying, do not let us be
+sentimental about it. Half the characters in the book seem to come by
+violent ends; of the two chief women, one commits suicide and the other
+is hanged. Mr. <span class="sc">Stevenson</span>, one can only suppose, speaks of life as he
+finds it. There are really two stories, that of <i>Beatrice Barrington</i>,
+the faithless wife of <i>Sir Philip</i>, and the dreary mockery of life up at
+The Court, with its hatreds and subterfuges, its crippled master,
+frightened children and spying servants. This is the county as the
+author sees it. Linked with this is the life of the farm, where <i>Jenny</i>
+is brought up by an uncle who hates her; where she tends his bedridden
+wife; where her cousin <i>Beatrice</i> goes wrong; where <i>Beatrice's</i>
+betrayer is killed in an accident, and her baby falls into the fire; and
+where finally the dour uncle himself, after shooting the young squire
+who has offered dishonourable addresses to <i>Jenny</i>, allows her to pay
+the penalty of his crime. There is undeniable strength about the book
+and it holds the attention; but I dispute the right of anyone to call it
+cheerful.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><span class="sc">Cynthia Stockley</span> has the writing quality in her; she can both see and
+feel; she can do man-talk with a plausibility beyond the reach of most
+of her sex; and she works with a refreshing dash and freedom. With a
+certain carelessness also sometimes; as thus: "The other, turning to
+run, got a shot in his leg that put him out of business, but in spite of
+which he managed to crawl away." And there are little kakophonies, such
+as: "He was loved, openly and gladly, back." The work is good enough to
+make worth while the cleansing of these defects. The author certainly
+puts into a short story more thought and characterisation than is common
+in these days of half-hours with even the best authors through the
+medium of magazine pot-boilers. <i>Wild Honey</i> (<span class="sc">Constable</span>) is the title of
+the first (not quite the best) of an excellent bunch. It sums up the
+bitter-sweet of South Africa, which is the setting of all these stories
+of love, adventure, horror and the wild. They give a strong impression
+of fidelity of draftsmanship, though here we know so little that is
+intimate of the dark continent that we cannot judge how far actual
+occurrences are based on fact or probability. But <span class="sc">Cynthia Stockley</span> has
+some of the mysterious qualities of a possible South African laureate.
+Perhaps she will contrive to put away a little weakness for tall and
+scornful aristocratic women; but, in any case, I can commend her book
+confidently to all intelligent beach-haunters.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"The price of bread has just been fixed by the authorities at 32
+centimes the kilometre."&mdash;<i>Globe.</i></p></div>
+
+<p>So you can get a couple of yards of French roll for about
+half-a-farthing. Not bad for war-time.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+147, August 19th, 1914, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, VOL. 147, AUG. 19, 1914 ***
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,1865 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147,
+August 19th, 1914, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, August 19th, 1914
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Owen Seaman
+
+Release Date: October 19, 2008 [EBook #26969]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, VOL. 147, AUG. 19, 1914 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  PUNCH,
+
+  OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+  VOLUME 147.
+
+  AUGUST 19th 1914.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: A QUICK CHANGE OF FRONT.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE NATURE OF A MORATORIUM.
+
+"It's a big ship" (I could overhear Ethel's voice through the open
+nursery window). "I know perfectly well it is. It's one of the
+Cunarders."
+
+"Well, you're quite wrong then," (this from Jack). "It was passed
+through Parliament. You can't pass a ship through Parliament."
+
+"It's the sister ship to the _Lusitania_--so there!"
+
+Joan's thoughtful voice intervened.
+
+"I can tell you what it is," she said. "It's a place for burying
+people--a sort of big tomb where they put dead kings. There's one at
+Windsor."
+
+Curiously enough I was myself at the moment rather puzzled as to what it
+was and how it worked.
+
+"Do you know, William," I said to my host, "that you are owing me ten
+pounds and I've got to get home to-day, and I've no money?"
+
+"Oh, but I shan't pay it now," he replied shamelessly.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I'm going to put a Moratorium on you. I don't know, of course, if
+that's quite the correct phrase. The thing is new to me. But at least I
+can see how it works. You had better try James. He owes you five, and he
+never reads the papers, so he may not have heard of it."
+
+I went at once into the library, where I found James making up a parcel
+of three half-sovereigns to send to his bank. No one is going to accuse
+James of hoarding gold.
+
+"About that fiver," I began.
+
+"Ah, yes. I was just coming out to talk to you about that before you
+went," said he. "Now that I'm sending all this stuff to the bank I'm
+just afraid I may be a bit short. I'll tell you what I think we ought to
+do, you and I, I think we ought to enter into a temporary Moratorium.
+All the best people are doing it. Of course I don't know if that's the
+right phrase. But I begin to see how it works."
+
+"It doesn't apply to sums under five pounds," said I severely.
+
+"That's true. I admit it's a pretty narrow squeak. I just managed to get
+on board, so to speak. Still, as the debt is five pounds----"
+
+"I'll take L4 19_s_. 11_d_.," said I, and held out my hand.
+
+"That's not playing the game," said James. "Can't you see you're going
+to encourage all sorts of panic if you go about reducing debts in that
+sort of way? What is to become of British credit if a man in your
+position shows himself willing to accept sweeping reductions for the
+sake of getting hold of cash? I'm just a little ashamed of you."
+
+"Well, I've got to get home to-day. The ticket costs over five pounds,
+and I've only got sixteen shillings."
+
+"Nothing simpler, my dear fellow," said James cheerfully. "You ask the
+booking-clerk for a ticket--pick it up--cover him with a Moratorium (if
+that's the proper phrase) and hop into the train. The sixteen bob will
+come in for tips."
+
+I went back to William and sat down. "The upshot of it is, William," I
+said, "that I can't go. You had better consider pretty carefully what
+you're doing. I don't think the Moratorium was intended to work in this
+sort of way. I've got to report myself at the War Office, and I can't
+go. You may think you're acting as a good citizen should. You may not be
+hoarding gold or hoarding food, but you are hoarding _me_."
+
+"It doesn't apply to National Insurance payments," said William
+brightly, "if that's any help to you."
+
+"It only goes on till the 4th of September," I reminded him, "and the
+bank rate was recently as high as ten per cent. and may easily go up
+again. You've got to pay interest on it, you know."
+
+That was where I had him. "How will you take it?" he asked, thrusting a
+hand into his pocket.
+
+"In new pound notes," said I.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+DIES IRAE.
+
+_To the GERMAN KAISER._
+
+  Amazing Monarch! who at various times,
+    Posing as Europe's self-appointed saviour,
+  Afforded copy for our ribald rhymes
+          By your behaviour;
+
+  We nursed no malice; nay, we thanked you much
+    Because your head-piece, swollen like a tumour,
+  Lent to a dullish world the needed touch
+          Of saving humour.
+
+  What with your wardrobes stuffed with warrior gear,
+    Your gander-step parades, your prancing Prussians,
+  Your menaces that shocked the deafened sphere
+          With rude concussions;
+
+  Your fist that turned the pinkest rivals pale
+    Alike with sceptre, chisel, pen or palette,
+  And could at any moment, gloved in mail,
+          Smite like a mallet;
+
+  Master of all the Arts, and, what was more,
+    Lord of the limelight blaze that let us know it--
+  You seemed a gift designed on purpose for
+          The flippant poet.
+
+  Time passed and put to these old jests an end;
+    Into our open hearts you found admission,
+  Ate of our bread and pledged us like a friend
+          Above suspicion.
+
+  You shared our griefs with seeming-gentle eyes;
+    You moved among us cousinly entreated,
+  Still hiding, under that fair outward guise,
+          A heart that cheated.
+
+  And now the mask is down, and forth you stand
+    Known for a King whose word is no great matter,
+  A traitor proved, for every honest hand
+          To strike and shatter.
+
+  This was the "Day" foretold by yours and you
+    In whispers here, and there with beery clamours--
+  You and your rat-hole spies and blustering crew
+          Of loud Potsdamers.
+
+  And lo, there dawns another, swift and stern,
+    When on the wheels of wrath, by Justice' token,
+  Breaker of God's own Peace, you shall in turn
+          Yourself be broken.
+
+    O. S.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A DETERMINED ISLAND.
+
+II.
+
+I continue this record of our daily lives at Totland Bay on August 12th.
+Before it appears in _Mr. Punch's_ columns great and decisive events may
+have happened, but at present, except for such slight distractions as I
+shall relate, we are still calm and peaceful. When we think or speak of
+Belgium our faces glow, and we are all resolved, should the need arise,
+to do as Belgium has done, and to do it in the same resolute and
+unconquerable spirit. In the meantime we rush for the newspapers with a
+constantly increasing eagerness. At about 11 A.M. the whole of Totland
+Bay is filled with people reading their papers in the open air.
+Everybody bumps into everybody else, but nobody minds. A gentleman the
+other day set out in a canoe and read the morning's news to a party of
+swimmers, who appeared to be much invigorated by what they heard.
+
+On Sunday night, just as we had finished dinner, we suddenly heard the
+report of a great gun from the fort at the Needles. The explosion was
+followed by three plaintive answering notes from a fog-horn. "They're
+firing at a ship," said someone, and out we all rushed to the nearest
+vantage-point, and even as we ran another gun went off and again the
+fog-horn answered with its bleat. The searchlights were striking great
+shafts of light along the Solent, and far away their beams outlined the
+shape of a big ship. She was still advancing on her course, when--Bang!
+another violent explosion shattered the night. This time it came from
+the fort just over the pier of Totland Bay. The echoes reverberated and
+rumbled, and the shot tore past close to the ship. Now she took the
+warning. There were no more appeals from the fog-horn. Slowly she turned
+and disappeared into the darkness. Possibly she had been at sea for a
+long time and knew nothing of the war. How she must have marvelled at
+this strange and dreadful welcome from the Isle of Wight. We went to our
+beds that night with a feeling of perfect security.
+
+On land, too, we have had our excitements. Yesterday afternoon, when the
+heather-clad slopes of Headon Hill were crowded with picnickers, there
+was a sudden alarm of spies. Some men, reported to have been conversing
+in German, were said to have been peering into cracks in the ground and
+otherwise behaving in a most suspicious manner. The alarm was given, and
+almost instantly, springing as it were from the very bowels of the
+earth, came some half-dozen soldiers running with rifles and fixed
+bayonets. Amid the shouts of the children they spread about the heather
+in their hunt, but nothing came of it, for the "spies," though they were
+caught, turned out to be some Italians resident in Totland Bay and
+fervently British in their sympathies.
+
+I mentioned last week that we had a children's maid, a German, in our
+household. Since then, in obedience to the Act, she has been registered
+as an "alien enemy." I took her by train to Newport for that purpose. On
+arriving at the station I hailed a fly. "Where to, Sir?" said the
+driver. "To the police-station," I answered, and the man broke out into
+a grin. "It isn't a serious offence," I added, but I doubt if he
+believed me. At the police-station, however, they were quite prepared
+for us, and in a very few minutes Maria Hasewitz--that is her eminently
+German name--had had all the particulars of her birth-place, her age,
+her height, and her personal appearance entered on a blue form by a
+jocose and affable sergeant. "Brown eyes, I _think_," said the sergeant;
+"height, five feet four inches; no beard _or_ moustache, ha-ha. Now sign
+here and make a mark with your left thumb in this space. That'll pin you
+down; no escape after that, ha-ha." He produced a board covered with
+some black sticky substance, dabbed her thumb in it, dabbed it hard on
+the paper, and, lo, Maria Hasewitz had been registered and had
+undertaken not to move five miles from Totland Bay without a special
+permit.
+
+At present this particular alien enemy is engaged, together with all the
+other available female members of the household, in making pyjamas for
+our soldiers. Wonderful deeds are being done all round me with scissors
+and needle and thread. A sewing-machine has been requisitioned.
+Button-holes are being manufactured with immense expedition. A good deal
+of "basting" is being got through. In my illimitable ignorance I had
+hitherto imagined that basting was something that you did to a joint of
+meat with a big ladle and some gravy. If you did it sufficiently the
+joint came out succulent, if not it became dry and you abused the
+butcher. However, we live and learn. Part, at any rate, of three suits
+of pyjamas that are to go to the Red Cross to-day has been severely and
+completely basted without either gravy or a ladle.
+
+    R. C. L.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: WELL MET!
+
+GREAT BRITAIN JOINS HER ALLIES IN THE FIELD.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CHARIVARIA.
+
+Even war has its humours. "In the midst of perfect peace the enemy
+surprises us," is a sentence from a proclamation not by the King of the
+BELGIANS but by the GERMAN KAISER.
+
+       ***
+
+WILHELM II. is said to be extremely annoyed in his capacity as a British
+Admiral that he is not being kept fully informed as to the movements of
+our Fleet.
+
+       ***
+
+The danger, of course, of a fondness for a place in the sun is that one
+may get burnt.
+
+       ***
+
+The coming generation would certainly seem to be all right. Even
+children are taking part in the fray. The Boy Scouts are helping
+manfully here, and at Liege the Germans, we are told, used nippers for
+cutting wire entanglements.
+
+       ***
+
+A vivid idea of the horrors of the return journey from the Continent to
+England after the declaration of war may be gained from the fact that a
+lady, in recounting her experiences in a contemporary, states that she
+was thankful to get back to Battersea.
+
+       ***
+
+General VILLA, it is stated, has now virtually proclaimed his
+independence of General CARRANZA, and hostilities are said to be
+imminent. We caution these gentlemen, however, that we are not prepared
+at this juncture to take a great deal of interest in their little war,
+and, if they take our advice, they will postpone it.
+
+       ***
+
+At the present moment, fortunately, one does not hear much of the sex
+war, but sex-pride compels us to draw attention to an account in _The
+Liverpool Echo_ of a recent agricultural show, from which we learn that
+"in a class for cows, in which there was a score of entries, Mr. S.
+Sanday won with pedigree dairy bulls."
+
+       ***
+
+The news that a large number of yachts had been placed at the disposal
+of the Admiralty was, no doubt, responsible for a statement in _The
+Birkenhead News_ of the 8th inst., to the effect that the Hoylake Town
+Band, consisting of Bavarians, in a moment of patriotic fervour during
+the crisis struck up "_Der Yacht am Rhein_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: _GERMAN KAISER._ "Donnerwetter! No wonder I've missed my
+appointment. The silly idiots have given me an 1870 time-table."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Overheard in the heather of a grouse moor:--"What ho! The Moratorium."
+
+       ***
+
+In feline circles it is being pointed out with some pride that not only
+are there Dogs of Wars but that Active Service Kits are being advertised
+very freely.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: AT THE OFFICIAL PRESS BUREAU.
+
+_MR. F. E. SMITH_ (_against his gallant instincts_). "Permit me, Madam."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"We, as a party," says Mr. KEIR HARDIE in _The Labour Leader_, "surely
+have a right to make a special protest against this altogether useless
+and unnecessary conflict." The KAISER'S address, KEIR, is Potsdam,
+Berlin (Germany).
+
+       ***
+
+We rejoice to hear that the thousand fresh herrings which a certain
+cosmopolitan financier purchased at the outbreak of the war to store up
+have one and all gone bad.
+
+       ***
+
+Paris now has a "Rue de Liege." And, in order to obviate any feeling of
+jealousy, a certain virulent microbe which has just been discovered by a
+Belgian scientist is, we hear, to be called the "Wilhelm Germ."
+
+       ***
+
+We trust that the Dutch are taking every precaution to protect the
+Palace of Peace at the Hague.
+
+       ***
+
+Brick-box, the Irish Guards' pet terrier, has been sent for the present
+to a dogs' home. In the event of their going abroad the Irish Guards
+hope to bring back with them a certain other dog who seems to have gone
+mad.
+
+       ***
+
+The British Isles have been defeated at Lawn Tennis, but we really
+shan't mind so long as we win the war.
+
+       ***
+
+"On shop after shop in Paris," says _The Evening News_, "is the notice,
+'Maison fermee a cante du de depart du patron et les employes sous les
+drapeaux Francais.'" Sorry, _Evening News_, but we cannot believe your
+statement in its entirety. We are afraid you did not get it confirmed by
+the Official Press Bureau.
+
+       ***
+
+According to the St. Petersburg _Gazette_ the Germans have arrested the
+Grand Duke CONSTANTINE CONSTANTINOVITCH at Badwildungen. The Russian
+Government admits that the GRAND DUKE has published several volumes of
+verse.
+
+       ***
+
+According to a statement in _The Globe_ "the German liner, _Belgia_,
+having run short of coal, put in at Newport (Mon.) to-day, and was
+seized as a prize. She has over L250,000 worth of food on board,
+including 400 tons of cheese, 73 German reservists, and also a large
+amount of specie." The last two items must, of course, be regarded as
+emergency rations.
+
+       ***
+
+An unfortunate misprint:--
+
+"WAR NEWS IN A FEW LIES."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: THE MONOPOLIST.
+
+_Late Arrival_ (_wishing to put his machine in bicycle rack_). "WELL,
+UPON MY WORD, THIS IS PREPOSTEROUS! CADDIE, WHO PUT HIS BICYCLE LIKE
+THAT?"
+
+_Caddie._ "CAN'T SAY FOR SURE, SIR. THE KAISER, I SHOULD THINK."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HOW WAR IS "MADE IN GERMANY."
+
+(_Extract from the KAISER'S Diary._)
+
+Letter captured bearing mark of Venezuela Consulate at Berlin. Stamp not
+put on straight. Insult to me--therefore to the flag. Proceed to issue
+ultimatum to Venezuela. Venezuela omits to concede one of the 421 points
+raised. Declare war on Venezuela and publish address to my
+people:--"Owing to this wicked and determined challenge to Our nation,
+We have been forced, greatly against Our wish, into a quarrel with a
+powerful and designing enemy," etc., etc.
+
+Consignment of Chicago sausages, arriving Hamburg, is found to bear
+label "The Best." Deliberate blow at German supremacy. Germany is the
+Sausage Queen. Ultimatum to United States. Reply unsatisfactory, so
+declare war. Speech to my people:--"Owing to this wicked," etc.
+
+Despatch from Pomeranian farming district to effect that a Cochin-China
+hen has peaked at representation of German Eagle in picture-book. At
+once issued ultimatum to Cochin-China demanding humble and complete
+apology, otherwise war would be declared. Received immediate reply,
+stating that as Cochin-China belongs at present to France I may save
+myself the trouble of a fresh declaration of war. Do so.
+
+Read statement that "heat in neighbourhood of equator surpasses that of
+any other part of the world." See in this a direct challenge to our
+sovereignty. _We_ are the hottest stuff in the world. Declare war on all
+countries abutting on equator. Speech to my people:--"Owing to this
+wicked," etc.
+
+Hear South Pole Republic showing signs of activity. Involves serious
+menace to our pacific plans. Issue ultimatum. Hear later that President
+is a penguin. As, however, withdrawal of ultimatum is out of the
+question, have despatched warships. Speech to my people:--"Owing to this
+wicked," etc.
+
+Having five minutes before lunch, declare war on Spain, Portugal, Tibet,
+Lapland and the Principality of Monaco. Reasons and ultimata to follow.
+
+Declare war on Bosnia and Herzegovina, but subsequently remember that
+these territories were recently absorbed by my ally. Undignified to
+cancel ultimatum, so declare war on said ally.
+
+Make painful discovery that, in spite of overtime at Imperial printing
+works, I am out of ultimatum forms. Urgent instructions have been sent
+to hasten delivery of forms, which are of course so printed that only
+the name of the offending country has to be filled in.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Apparently no more countries remain to be challenged. Must find some at
+all costs.
+
+Sudden inspiration. Have issued ultimatum to my own country that, if she
+does not find fresh countries for me to fight before midnight, war will
+ensue.
+
+_Midnight._ No new countries found. I declare war on Germany.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Journalistic Manner.
+
+"Every inch of Belgium will be fought for foot by foot."--_Daily
+Telegraph._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE OLD ORDER CHANGES.
+
+A thousand years ago I won a cup for jumping. It was not a very good
+cup, but then it was not a very good jump. Such as the cup is, however,
+it stands on a shelf in my library, and I have ways of directing the
+attention of visitors to it. For instance, if a collector of old prints
+is coming to dinner, I hang my oldest print just above the cup, ready
+for him; we take our--or better, his--cigars into the library, and I
+say, "Oh, look here, I picked this print up last week; the man said it
+was a genuine Eyre and Spottiswoode; you might give me your opinion." He
+gives me his opinion ... and then his eye wanders down. I see him
+reading the inscription on the cup.
+
+The inscription says: "Long Jump, 1739," or some such date. "First
+Prize, won by ----" and then my name very big and splendid. Underneath
+comes the school crest, followed by the motto, "_Dat Deus Incrementum_,"
+though I have never jumped any further since. Its shape is the ordinary
+sherry-glass shape. It is my only cup, and I am proud of it.
+
+I look up as I write, and I see the--by the way, I don't know if you
+have ever tried "looking up as you write." It is a common thing for
+reflective writers to say they do, but you should never believe them. It
+is impossible to write properly when looking somewhere else. What we do
+is to stop and slew our necks round, and then take a fresh dip in the
+ink. Well, slewing my neck round as I stop writing, I see my precious
+cup standing on its shelf, and ... horror! It is standing upside down!
+
+This comes as a surprise to you, but it is no surprise to me. The thing
+has been going on for months. It is months ago that I first spoke to
+Celia about it.
+
+"It's Jane," she said. "She always puts it like that when she's been
+dusting."
+
+"Yes, but what for? Just to catch the eye?"
+
+"I suppose because you always stand glasses upside down when you've
+cleaned them--to keep the dust out."
+
+"But if she'd only think a moment she'd see that I don't drink out of
+this, and that glasses don't have 'First Prize, won by ----'"
+
+"Jane isn't here to think, she's here to work."
+
+This seemed to be a distinction drawn between Jane and me.
+
+"You see what I mean," I said, "don't you? It's very difficult to read
+the cup upside down. A stranger mightn't know who--er--who had won it."
+
+"But don't you always turn it back again? I do, if ever I see it."
+
+"Yes, but--but---- Oh, well, it doesn't matter."
+
+I went back to the library. It was difficult to explain why I minded;
+because, after all, to fill a pipe, light it and sit down to work every
+morning is very little less trouble than to turn a cup round, fill a
+pipe, light it and sit down to work every morning. Anything regular soon
+gets taken for granted. And yet I was annoyed. I think it was the
+_silliness_ of standing a First Prize upside down which annoyed me. That
+and the apparent difficulty of getting into communication with Jane
+about it.
+
+For it was difficult. One day I went very humbly to Celia and said--
+
+"I know I'm a baby about it. Forgive me. But it's getting on my mind. Do
+tell Jane about the cup."
+
+"It's awfully hard," she said, after a little thought. "You see, it's
+such a very, very small thing that it never seems quite the right moment
+for it. And if, after I'd told her, she said 'What?' I couldn't possibly
+say it again."
+
+"You must be very articulate the first time. Lead the conversation
+slowly round to long-jumping or the difficulty of reading on your head,
+and then casually but articulately----"
+
+"Well, we'll see," said Celia. "Of course, if I ever caught her doing
+it, I'd tell her. Perhaps I shall."
+
+Well, we saw. We saw that the thing still went on. The direct approach
+to Jane was evidently impossible. So I tried sarcasm.
+
+Sarcasm, directed into the blue in the hope of hitting the person you
+want, may not be effective, but it does relieve the feelings. I had a
+thoroughly sarcastic morning all to myself. My deadly irony took the
+form of turning _everything_ in the library upside-down. The cup was in
+position already; I turned up two pewter mugs (third prizes in
+Consolation Races), the flower bowls, the cigarette box, the lamp, a
+stool, half-a-dozen pictures, two photographs and the mahogany clock.
+They all stood on their heads and sneered at Jane. "Why don't you do the
+thing properly while you're about it?" they said to her. I felt
+extremely well after I had finished.
+
+Celia stood in the door and gurgled to herself.
+
+"You baby," she smiled.
+
+"On the contrary," I said, "I have made a dignified yet subtle protest.
+You wouldn't move in the matter so I had to do something. I flatter
+myself that a sense of her past silliness will rush over Jane like a
+flood when she comes in here to-morrow morning."
+
+"If Jane's flooded at all," said Celia, "it will be with the idea that
+the master's mad. But I don't think she'll notice it particularly."
+
+Next morning everything was right side up again--except the cup.
+
+"It's no good," I told Celia; "she is obviously determined. Perhaps it
+means more than we think to her to have that cup upside-down. Its
+beauty, the memories it brings back, the symbolism of it, these things
+touch some hidden spring ... Still I _am_ master in my own house." And I
+turned the cup round again....
+
+Another month passed and I could bear it no longer. Yesterday I made up
+my mind. I would speak to Jane myself. I turned my First Prize the right
+way up, and then looked for Celia.
+
+"Celia," I said firmly, "where is Jane?"
+
+"She's gone out," said Celia softly. "Her--her man goes off to-day."
+
+       ***
+
+An hour later, with bands playing and people cheering, they wheeled out
+of barracks, brown and businesslike. Jane was in the front somewhere,
+waving her handkerchief--not such a silly Jane, after all. And at the
+back, very proud for her, Celia and I stood silent, with a something in
+the throat that had come there suddenly....
+
+And this morning the cup was upside-down again. Well, well, if she likes
+it that way, that way let it be.
+
+But take warning, O Jane! When your man--here's luck to him!--comes
+back, then I shall assert myself once more. My cup, "Long Jump, 1739.
+First Prize," shall stand the right way up; either that or you leave my
+service. I am determined about this....
+
+Meanwhile we can share the daily paper.
+
+A. A. M.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Dear _Mr. Punch_,--You may remember that QUEEN VICTORIA recorded in her
+_Journal in the Highlands_ that 'Vicky sat down on a wasps' nest.'
+'VICKY,' of course, was destined later to be the mother of WILHELM II.
+Can we not see in the present situation rather a remarkable example of
+heredity?--Yours, etc., MEDICO."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From a _Daily Chronicle_ special correspondent--
+
+    "A little meat and plenty of vegetables take one a long
+    way--lettuce, soup, eggs, en surprise, peas, dessert, voila--even
+    the very poor can afford such a dinner in Brussels."
+
+A seven-course dinner is certainly more than we can afford in England.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: "IT'S AN ILL WIND ..."
+
+_Old Cock Grouse._ "I SEE THEY'VE ALL GONE SHOOTING EAGLES."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PRIVATE VIEW.
+
+I take train home every evening from one of our best stations. Crowned
+heads fairly tumble over one another there in their anxiety to get a
+first glimpse of London. Personages are matters of daily arrival.
+
+The other night I reached my station just as a Personage was due. A
+drive led from his platform to the outside world. On one side of it were
+lined up the public six deep. On the other side of it was the left
+luggage office. Four policemen saw to it that no person crossed to the
+other side except on business.
+
+I began crossing.
+
+"Not that side," said Robert, "unless you want the left luggage."
+
+"The left luggage," I explained, "is my one desire."
+
+I crossed.
+
+The clerk was unusually prompt.
+
+"What's yours?" he said.
+
+"Since you ask," I replied, "I could do with a small stout; or,
+alternatively, a sherry and bitters."
+
+He kept silence, but with a touch of urgency in it. It is hard to
+temporize when confronted with a businesslike silence. Yet my view of
+the drive was worth fighting for.
+
+"I might leave my watch," I continued after a brief hesitation, "but the
+fact is I left it last week with my only godson. Have you a godson? You
+know what they are--always wanting something."
+
+"Come along, now," said the official brusquely. Robert, too, was
+becoming restive.
+
+"Very well; I will deposit my hat. You will be careful with it, won't
+you?"
+
+He accepted my hat untenderly.
+
+"What name?"
+
+"George," I said; "but they call me 'Winkles' at home."
+
+He was a man not easily moved. He wrote down "George" without hesitation
+on a bit of pink paper and asked for twopence as he gave it to me.
+
+Just then, to my great relief, the Boat Express arrived. I searched in
+all my pockets and at last found half-a-sovereign.
+
+I told you he was a man not easily moved. He gave me nine-and-tenpence
+without a word, but with more halfpennies than was quite nice.
+
+There was a stir in the crowd. I must hang on yet a little, or give it
+up, or stand six deep. I cannot stand standing six deep. But it is the
+duty of every citizen to welcome Personages.
+
+Then I bethought me of my pink paper.
+
+I summoned the man who was not easily moved and presented it. "The
+deposit," I explained, "was a hat--a felt hat--I cannot be sure of the
+size, but at a guess I should put it somewhere between 7 and 8."
+
+But he had already retrieved it.
+
+I took it and replaced it on my head as I turned in the nick of time to
+take it off to the Personage. He gave me a very sweet smile, the memory
+of which I cherish so fondly that I am loth to attribute it to the
+fashionable dent I subsequently discovered in my bowler.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In the present restriction of Sport we sympathize with that section of
+the Press which makes it a speciality. However, there are outlets; and
+one of our Sporting contemporaries has burst forth into history, as
+follows:--
+
+    "Once again England is faced with a crisis. There has been nothing
+    like it since Alexander the Great burned his boats and crossed the
+    Rubicon."
+
+An Infant Prodigy.
+
+    "Although only in his 41st year Mr. F. E. Smith is a Master of Arts
+    ..."
+
+    _Pall Mall Gazette._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: _Medical Officer._ "SORRY I MUST REJECT YOU ON ACCOUNT OF
+YOUR TEETH."
+
+_Would-be Recruit._ "MAN, YE'RE MAKING A GRAN' MISTAKE. I'M NO WANTING
+TO BITE THE GERMANS, I'M WANTING TO SHOOT 'EM."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A FIRST CHARGE.
+
+_Mr. Punch's_ appeal is once more for the children. Most earnestly, and
+with great confidence, he begs his readers to care for those little ones
+whose fathers and brothers are serving under the Flag for our country's
+honour and the defence of our homes, or may suffer through loss of work.
+All gifts to the National Relief Fund should be addressed to H.R.H. The
+Prince of Wales, at Buckingham Palace.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A PLEA FOR PEGASUS.
+
+  Ye mobilisers of that other arm
+    Whose might is famed superior to the sabre's,
+  Who furnish forth the wherewithal to charm
+    The Special Correspondent to his labours,
+  And by whose enterprise we're daily fed on
+  Reports of Armageddon.
+
+  List to my plaint. It is not that I tire
+    Of those despatches--picturesque effusions--
+  Which by the witness of a later wire
+    Are proved to rank among the Great Illusions;
+  Though much to be deplored, such news, I'm willing
+  Freely to own, is thrilling.
+
+  But when your pages, shrunken through the scare
+    Of that worst blow of all, a paper famine,
+  Dispense exclusively Bellona's fare,
+    And, failing battle tales, you simply cram in
+  Facts about spies, commodities and prices,
+  I writhe beneath this crisis.
+
+  I can support the other pains of war:
+    Transport disorganised and credit shaken,
+  The fear of hunger knocking at the door,
+    And threepence extra on a pound of bacon;
+  In fact, I'd be the most resigned of creatures
+  If you'd compose your "features."
+
+  Could you not lift a corner of the mask
+    That makes these solemn days so much more solemn?
+  A very little ray is all I ask
+    To light the utter darkness--say a column
+  Of "stories" which your slang describes as "snappy;"
+  With these I could be happy;
+
+  With these my topic Muse I might entice;
+    But war has left her mute, and me despairing.
+  They call for horses; must I sacrifice
+    The steed with whom I've taken many an airing?
+  Poor Pegasus--and none too well-conditioned!
+  Must _he_ be requisitioned?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From parallel columns in The Evening News:---
+
+    "Haelen is forty-five miles northwest  | "The centre of the battle was
+    of Liege; it is fifty miles            | at Haelen (thirty miles
+    east of Brussels."                     | northwest of Liege
+                                           | and thirty miles
+                                           | from Brussels)."
+
+
+This is simply to deceive the Germans.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: THE WORLD'S ENEMY.
+
+THE KAISER. "WHO GOES THERE?"
+
+SPIRIT OF CARNAGE. "A FRIEND--YOUR ONLY ONE."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: _Fond Mother_ (_full of war news_). "DON'T GO TOO FAR
+OUT, GIRLS. YOU CAN'T BE TOO CAREFUL WITH ALL THIS FIGHTING GOING ON."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S HOLIDAY STORIES.
+
+II.--THE ISLAND CUP RACE.
+
+Cowes week was drawing near to its brilliant climax. Through the blue
+waters of the Solent a swarm of palatial steam yachts, saucy outriggers,
+graceful cutters and wasp-like motor boats jostled one another in their
+efforts to gain safe anchorage after the strenuous excitement of the
+day's racing. Everywhere could be heard the clank of mooring chains,
+mingled with the full-flavoured oaths of sailor men.
+
+Gradually silence fell upon the scene, broken only by the melodious
+murmur of numberless gramophones and the soft strains of the band of the
+Royal Yacht Squadron.
+
+As the sun descended lower beneath the horizon the dusk deepened, and
+presently thousands of Chinese lanterns twinkled through the gloom from
+mast and yard-arm. Lady Margaret Tamerton, leaning idly against the
+barnacle of her brother's yacht, the _Seamaid_, drank in the beauty of
+the night with deep inhalations.
+
+The voice of young Lord Tamerton at her side at last broke the spell of
+silence.
+
+"Madge," he said softly, "Wonderson has not yet arrived. If he doesn't
+come, our chances of winning the Island Cup to-morrow are practically
+hopeless."
+
+"Don't worry, Fred," replied Lady Margaret. "Ralph never fails....
+Listen, he is coming now."
+
+And, indeed, the muffled beat of oars was heard approaching from the
+darkness. Soon a slim white boat came gliding up to the prow of the
+_Seamaid_. Ralph Wonderson, a tall athletic figure in his immaculate
+flannels and straw boater, poised himself on the gunwale, gathered
+himself for a spring, and leaped with the agility of a cat to the
+bowsprit of the yacht. Sliding rapidly down this, he nodded easily to
+Lord Tamerton and clasped the beautiful figure of Lady Margaret in his
+arms.
+
+"S-sh!" he whispered warningly, laying his fingers on her lips, as she
+would have spoken. "Nobody must know I am here till to-morrow. That is
+why I came aboard like that. Listen. Your cousin, Sir Ernest Scrivener,
+_alias_ Marmaduke Moorsdyke, is here, and is plotting to kidnap you.
+There is a traitor somewhere on this yacht who supplies him with all
+information. The attempt is to be made to-night."
+
+"To-night!" murmured Lady Margaret in horror. "What am I to do? His
+ingenuity is dev--er--fiendish."
+
+"It shall be baffled," replied Ralph reassuringly. "I have thought it
+all out. It would be dangerous for you to leave the yacht because, in
+view of to-morrow's race, neither your brother nor I could accompany
+you. There is only one place on board where you can pass the night in
+assured safety--the crow's-nest."
+
+"The crow's-nest," repeated Lady Margaret, clapping her hands. "What
+fun! I shall be rocked to sleep beautifully, and of _course_ they will
+never think of looking for me there."
+
+"Come," said Ralph, taking her hand. "There is no time to lose, and none
+of the crew must be allowed to see you. We don't know whom we can
+trust."
+
+Snatching her in his arms, he carried her easily up the frail rigging,
+his mountain training showing in every step he took. Five minutes later
+he returned alone and dropped noiselessly to the deck. He looked round
+cautiously; there was nobody in view except Lord Tamerton.
+
+"It's all right, Fred," he whispered. "Let us turn in."
+
+They descended the broad staircase arm-in-arm. No sooner had they
+disappeared than a dark figure crept with a low chuckle from underneath
+a coil of rope and dropped silently over the yacht's counter.
+
+A phosphorescent gleam disturbed the darkness of the water.
+
+       ***
+
+Early next morning Ralph Wonderson ran nimbly up the rigging of the
+_Seamaid_, carrying a tray loaded with toast, eggs, tea and marmalade.
+He tapped at the door of the crow's-nest. There was no response. After a
+pause he tapped again and cautiously pushed open the door. The
+crow's-nest was empty!
+
+"Betrayed," cried Ralph, clapping his hand to his forehead. A moment
+later two soft-boiled eggs devastated the snowy whiteness of the
+_Seamaid's_ deck.
+
+Despite their precautions, Lady Margaret had been spirited away during
+the night. As soon as he had recovered from the shock of the discovery,
+Ralph ran to Lord Tamerton and acquainted him with the terrible news.
+There was a period of agonised and fruitless discussion.
+
+"Wait! I have an idea," exclaimed Ralph presently. He pressed an
+electric bell, and a steward appeared almost simultaneously.
+
+"Jenkins, fetch me a race card," said Ralph.
+
+"Yes, Sir," replied the steward. "I anticipated your request and have it
+here."
+
+Ralph and Lord Tamerton bent their heads over the card.
+
+"See," said the former. "It is as I hoped. Among the entries for the
+Island Cup we have the _Watersnake_, owner Sir Ernest Scrivener. He will
+sail her himself, that is certain. It is equally certain that he has
+Madge on board. If I know anything of him he will not let her out of his
+sight. Fred, by yonder centreboard I swear that before the race is over
+we will win her back."
+
+_Bang!_ It was the signal for the competitors to line up for the great
+race for the world-famous Island Cup.
+
+       ***
+
+Of all the thousands who pressed themselves against the straining booms
+none realised that the race was for a prize far more precious than a
+mere cup of gold valued at two thousand guineas.
+
+The _Watersnake_ was in front, a clear hundred yards separating her from
+the pursuing _Seamaid_. All the other yachts lagged hopelessly in the
+rear.
+
+Scattering the foam at their bows, the two boats rushed along the blue
+lane of clear water which lay between the booms. Ralph, at the wheel of
+the _Seamaid_, gazed anxiously forward. Could they do it?
+
+"Let loose the spinnaker," he commanded gruffly. "Haul on the signal
+halyard. Lower the keelson."
+
+The orders were swiftly executed, and the _Seamaid_ leaped forward with
+a bound. The distance between the two vessels rapidly lessened.
+
+"Fred," said Ralph, "you must take the wheel for a time. I'm going
+forward to board the _Watersnake_."
+
+Lord Tamerton obediently grasped the wheel, while Ralph ran forward and
+crept along the bowsprit. The intervening space was now very small.
+Bracing himself for the effort, he shot through the air and landed upon
+the deck of the _Watersnake_. The first object which met his gaze was
+Lady Margaret, her wrists bound, lying beside the barnacle.
+
+Sir Ernest Scrivener uttered a horrible oath as he recognised the
+features of his successful rival. For an instant he loosened his grasp
+on the wheel. The vessel yawed in her course and he was compelled to
+seize the spokes again.
+
+       ***
+
+Before Scrivener could command his wits sufficiently to shout an order
+to his crew, Ralph had caught up Lady Margaret in his arms and dashed to
+the side of the vessel. Deprived of his skilled command, the _Seamaid_
+had dropped behind; it was impossible to leap back to her decks.
+
+Without hesitation, Ralph dived into the water, and still supporting the
+now unconscious form of Lady Margaret, swam rapidly towards the yacht.
+Two minutes later he was gripping the wheel and concentrating all his
+immense will power upon the task of winning the race.
+
+Inch by inch the _Seamaid_ crept up to her rival. Despite all
+Scrivener's efforts, the gap grew less and less.
+
+And now the winning post was close at hand. Could it be done? Could it
+be done? The frantic spectators behind the boom shouted themselves
+hoarse. Lord Tamerton bit his thumbs till the blood ran.
+
+Nearer drew the _Seamaid_. Nearer and nearer. Nearer still. At the
+critical moment, Ralph, with a mighty effort, pushed down the wheel.
+
+A bare three inches parted the _Watersnake_ from the winning post when
+the slight shudder ran through her which told that the prow of the
+_Seamaid_ had touched her stern. The bump had been made; the race was
+won.
+
+       ***
+
+Ralph Wonderson stood with the magnificent Island Cup in his hand,
+filled to the brim with bubbling champagne.
+
+"To the restoration of the fortunes of the house of Tamerton," he said
+as he raised it to his lips.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: _The Turkey Buzzard_ (_to the Sea Eagle_). "You may call
+yourself a Turkey Buzzard if you like, but they'll still know you by
+your white feather."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE VIKING SPIRIT.
+
+    ["The week-end was dull and much rain fell, but this did not spoil
+    the visitors' pleasure. The sight of the sea in a turbulent mood was
+    a great attraction."--_Seaside note in daily paper._]
+
+  It has rained for a week down at Shrimpton;
+    'Tis zero or less in the shade;
+  You can paddle your feet in the principal street
+    And bathe on the stony parade;
+  But still on our holiday pleasures
+    No thoughts of discomfort intrude,
+  As we whisper, "This sight is a bit of all right,"
+    For the sea's in a turbulent mood.
+
+  There's nobody harks to the pierrots;
+    For music we don't care a straw;
+  And the "comic" in vain chants the usual strain
+    Concerning his mother-in-law.
+  Unbought are the beach's bananas;
+    Our souls are all far above food;
+  Not a man of us dreams of consuming ice-creams
+    When the sea's in a turbulent mood.
+
+  You may prate of the fervour of Phoebus
+    Of days that are calm and serene,
+  When a tint as of teak is imposed on the cheek
+    That is commonly pallid (when clean);
+  But _we_ have a taste that's aesthetic;
+    Mere sunshine seems vulgar and crude,
+  As we gather to gaze with artistic amaze
+    On the sea in a turbulent mood.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_The Beekeepers' Record_, referring to the photograph of a group of
+prominent beekeepers, says:--"Mr. Dadant's well-known features are
+easily spotted." We are sorry, but a little cold cream will sometimes do
+wonders.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
+
+"FOR NUTS."--The origin of this curious phrase to indicate incompetence
+in any pursuit or pastime--_e.g._, "He can't play for nuts," etc.--is
+obscure; but its antiquity is incontestable. Thus one of the fragments
+of ENNIUS runs: "_Nucibus non ludere possum_." Perhaps the most
+plausible theory is that which views the phrase as a heritage from our
+simian ancestors, among whom nuts were the common medium of exchange. On
+this assumption a monkey--whether gorilla, chimpanzee, baboon or
+orangutan--who was described as unable to do anything "for nuts,"
+_i.e._, for pecuniary remuneration, was obviously inefficient. Another
+explanation, which we believe is supported by Mr. EUSTACE MILES, scouts
+the notion of an ancient origin of the phrase and fixes the _terminus a
+quo_ by the recent introduction of vegetarian diet. Nuts being a prime
+staple of the votaries of this cult, a person who cannot do anything
+"for nuts" means, by implication, a carnivorous savage who is incapable
+of progress. Lastly, there remains the ingenious solution that the
+phrase as commonly employed involves a misspelling. It ought to be "four
+nuts," and playing four nuts was an ancient but simple game, which may
+be connected with the cognate phrase about knowing or not knowing "how
+many beans make five."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+POLLY PERKINS: WAS SHE A REAL PERSON?--A careful search in the registers
+of Paddington in the early and mid-Victorian period reveals so many Mary
+Perkinses as to render the task of identification peculiarly difficult.
+It will be remembered, however, that the heroine of the famous ballad is
+described as not only "little," but "pretty;" indeed, she is spoken of
+as being "as beautiful as a butterfly and as proud as a queen." So far,
+however, these clues to her appearance have yielded no solid results.
+The representatives of the famous family of brewers have been unable to
+throw any light on the subject, and an application to the managing
+director of the London and General Omnibus Company has also proved
+unproductive. (Polly Perkins "married the conductor of a twopenny
+'bus.") Her brilliant appearance suggests a possible relationship with
+Dr. PERKINS, the famous pioneer of the aniline dye industry; but this,
+as well as the theory that she was a descendant of PERKIN WARBECK, is
+mere surmise.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE FIRST MAN WHO ATE AN OYSTER.--The most widely circulated account of
+this feat is that which ascribes it to the notorious Roman epicure
+Publius Esurius Gulo, who was nicknamed Bellipotens from the rotundity
+of his figure. According to the account given in the _Gastronomica_ of
+Voracius Bulbo (ii. 18) Gulo was always making daring experiments, and,
+when bathing at Baiae on a very hot day, and seeing a bivalve which had
+rashly opened its jaws in the sun, he dexterously inserted a stone and
+conveyed the contents to his mouth on the point of the pin of his
+_fibula_. He was subsequently created a proconsul by NERO. The only
+drawback connected with this account is the fact that oysters were
+recognised as delicacies in Rome at least a hundred years before NERO.
+It is right to add that the genuineness of Bulbo's _Gastronomica_ has
+been seriously impugned, the best authorities (including FRANCATELLI)
+being convinced that the treatise was the work of a sixteenth-century
+_farceur_ who belonged to the royal house of Paphlagonia.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PARLOUR PATHOS, SPECIMENS OF.--The best specimens of this interesting
+emotional product are to be found in the words of Royalty Ballads. A
+good instance is to be found in the following choice quatrain:--
+
+  Nature cares not whence or how,
+    Nature asks not why;
+  'Tis enough that thou art thou,
+    And that I am I.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+COMPARATIVE COUPLETS.--The correct form of this literary disease is as
+follows:--
+
+  A chair without a leg
+  Is like a hen without an egg.
+
+But it is emphatically not to be encouraged, as excessive indulgence in
+the habit has been known to lead to the break-up of happy homes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NAMES OF GOLF CLUBS.--The latest addition to the list is, so far as we
+are aware, the "Sammy," but efforts are being made to induce the St.
+Andrews authorities to sanction the "Biffy," a combination of the
+jigger and the baffy, and the "Duncher," a powerful weapon for
+extricating the ball out of rushes, tar and other viscous lies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE JUGGINS FAMILY.--This family claims descent from Joskin ap Gwyggan,
+the last native prince who ruled in Dwffryn. The earlier lines in the
+descent are doubtful. The various families claiming to spring from
+Joskin adopted different patronymics in the fifteenth and succeeding
+centuries, amongst which may be noted Joskins, Gherkin, Guggenheimer,
+and Gaga.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: THE OLD REFRAIN.
+
+_First Old Lady._ "MY DEAR, WHAT _DO_ YOU THINK OF THIS WAR? ISN'T IT
+TERRIBLE?"
+
+_Second Old Lady._ "AWFUL! BUT IT CAN'T LAST LONG; _THE POWERS WILL
+SURELY INTERVENE_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: _The Patriot._ "HOARD MY GOLD! I'D STARVE FIRST!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MIDDLECOMBE _v_. PADDLEWICK.
+
+I.
+
+    _Philip Renwick to Charles Holcombe._
+    Room 99, X.Y.Z. Offices,
+    Whitehall,
+    _8th August, 1914._
+
+DEAR CHARLIE,--Can you possibly turn out for us on Thursday next _v_.
+Paddlewick? We lost to them rather heavily in May last and are anxious
+to give them a sound beating. Their fast bowler is playing for them
+again, I hear, and we absolutely rely on your help. Can you get off for
+the day?
+
+    Yours ever, P. R.
+
+II.
+
+    _Charles Holcombe to Philip Renwick._
+    Room 83, P.Q.R. Offices,
+    Lombard Street,
+    _9th August, 1914._
+
+MY DEAR PHIL,--Thanks for yours. Will try to manage it next Thursday,
+but am doubtful. My chief, though a capable official, is no sport, and I
+anticipate difficulties. I had a day off only two weeks ago for cricket.
+Will do my best.
+
+    Thine, C. H.
+
+III.
+
+    _Charles Holcombe to Philip Renwick._
+    P.Q.R.
+    _10th August, 1914._
+
+MY DEAR PHIL,--Awfully sorry; no luck _re_ Thursday. Boss hopeless. I
+broached the matter this morning (without actually asking for
+permission), but I fear the worst. You had better get another man for
+the Paddlewick match. So sorry.
+
+    Yours ever,
+    CHARLIE HOLCOMBE.
+
+IV.
+
+    _Philip Renwick to Charles Holcombe._
+    X.Y.Z.
+    _10th August, 1914._
+
+MY DEAR CHARLIE,--We shall be absolutely in the cart without you.
+They've got an awfully hot fast bowler. Bartram now tells me he can't
+possibly turn out, and you are the only really decent bat I know. We
+simply _can't_ lose to Paddlewick again--we shall never hear the last of
+it. (No one need know that you don't play regularly for Middlecombe.) Do
+try your best, old man. Mightn't your Aunt Martha be seriously ill?
+
+    Yours ever, PHIL.
+
+V.
+
+    _Charles Holcombe to Philip Renwick_
+    (_wire._)
+
+Aunt Martha dying. All well. Boss absent Thursday, so can explain to him
+afterwards. HOLCOMBE.
+
+VI.
+
+    _Philip Renwick to Charles Holcombe_
+    (_wire._)
+
+Good boy. Funeral 11.30. Train Paddington 10.5. Lunch 1.30. Draw 6.30.
+PHILIP.
+
+VII.
+
+    _Charles Holcombe to Philip Renwick._
+    Room 83, P.Q.R. Offices,
+    _14th August._
+
+MY DEAR PHIL,--I regret that I was forced to leave somewhat hurriedly
+after the game last night. I have nothing to add to what I told you at
+lunch as to the identity of the Paddlewick Spofforth with my chief, of
+whose sporting talent I was in ignorance. But if you should hear of a
+good berth going anywhere I should be extraordinarily grateful.
+
+    Yours ever,
+    CHARLIE HOLCOMBE.
+
+P.S.--It was doubly unfortunate (in a way) that I should have scored a
+six and three fours in one over from his bowling.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OLD STYLE AND NEW.
+
+I.--OLD STYLE.
+
+_He._ Has anyone seen the paper?
+
+_She._ I haven't.
+
+_He._ Didn't it come this morning?
+
+_She._ Very likely not. The boy often forgets it. You're the only person
+who ever looks at it.
+
+_He._ Well, I suppose I must wait till I get to the Club; but I dare say
+there isn't anything that matters in it.
+
+_Or_
+
+_She._ Have you done with that paper, my dear?
+
+_He._ Absolutely; there's nothing in it. There never is. I can't think
+why we waste money in taking it.
+
+_She._ Then perhaps I may have it for a pattern?
+
+_He._ Why, certainly. I've no use for it.
+
+II.--NEW STYLE.
+
+_The whole family_ (all together).
+
+{Has the paper come yet?
+{What's the news?
+{Where's the paper?
+{What about Liege?
+{I say, where's the paper?
+{Isn't the paper here yet?
+{What's the matter with the people?
+
+_Or_
+
+_The whole family_ (all together again).
+
+{I say, father, you might read quicker.
+{Can't you tear it in half?
+{Do tell us the news.
+{Do read it out loud.
+{What about Liege? Quick!
+{Oh dear, why don't we have ten copies of it?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "The 'Daily Telegraph' Algeciras correspondent, wiring yesterday,
+    says news from Gibraltar reports a naval fight off the Canaries. One
+    of the latter was sunk and the other captured and brought to
+    Gibraltar."
+
+    _Liverpool Evening Express._
+
+Our own canary protests indignantly at this treatment of its allies.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In order to be in the very admirable fashion the L.C.C. has decided, we
+understand, to change the name of Jermyn Street to Jellicoe Lane.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: THE LOCAL TOUCH. _East Anglian._ "TELL YOW WHAT THAT IS,
+SIR: THAT THERE KAISER 'E 'ONT NEVER BE SATISFIED UNTIL 'E'S RUINED
+MUDBOROUGH."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Illustration: A BRAVE MAN. "LARGE LAGER, WAITER."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+(_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)
+
+MR. DORNFORD YATES, whose name I seem to recall as a contributor to the
+magazines, has written a book of the most agreeable nonsense which he
+has called _The Brother of Daphne_ (WARD, LOCK). For no specially
+apparent reason, since _Daphne_ herself plays but a small part in the
+argument, which is chiefly concerned with the brother and his love
+affairs. This brother, addressed as _Boy_, was a bit of a dog, and an
+uncommonly lucky dog at that. The adventures he had! He apparently could
+not go out for the simplest walk without meeting some amiable young
+woman, divinely fair and supernaturally witty, with whom he presently
+exchanged airy badinage and, towards the end of the interview, kisses.
+What distressed me a little at first, till I tumbled to the spirit of
+the thing, was the discovery that the charmer was always a fresh one,
+and in consequence that these osculations had, so to speak, no
+matrimonial significance. Perhaps, however, _Boy_ recognised an
+essential similarity in each of his partners. He may, for example, have
+been deceived by the fact that they all talked exactly the same Dolly
+dialogue--light, frothy and just a little more neatly turned than is the
+common intercourse of mortals. You know the kind of speech I mean. It is
+vastly pleasant and easy to read; but I must decline to believe that any
+young man could have the amazing fortune to meet fifteen pretty girls
+who all had the trick of it. Still, that by no means lessened my
+enjoyment of an entertaining volume, notice of which would be incomplete
+without a word of praise for the illustrations of Mr. C. W. WILMSHURST,
+a favourite black-and-white artist of mine, whose name is unaccountably
+omitted from the title-page.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+If DOROTHEA CONYERS knew as much about English syntax as she does about
+Irish, and were as certain in the handling of a story as she is in the
+conduct of a horse, _Old Andy_ (METHUEN) might be taken at a single
+refreshing gallop. As it is, I advise the reader to tackle it piecemeal,
+a brisk run here and there, followed by a considerable breather. For the
+novel is put together in a scrambling fashion, being full of repetitions
+of almost identical scenes and making very little definite way in a
+forward direction. There are the usual Irish peasantry and farmers who
+worship the horse for pecuniary and sentimental reasons, as the
+Israelites worshipped the golden calf; the usual hunting people, who
+either ride straight and are grimly sarcastic or talk very big and go
+for the gates; and the usual English visitors, who astound by their
+guilelessness and simplicity when confronted by aboriginal horse-copers
+and native bogs and stone-walls. If cubbing be included, I should be
+afraid to say how many meets are described in this book, or how many
+hunt-breakfasts and heavy teas in Irish interiors--interiors of
+cottages, of course, I mean--resulting in how many tricky deals and
+harmless tosses in the heather and the mud. But if you follow my lead
+there is plenty of pure joy in _Old Andy_, and the most and the best of
+it perhaps is to be found in the remarks of grooms, servant-girls and
+casual country folk, who as often as not have no kind of connection with
+the thread of the tale. "'If meself an' the Masther wasn't rowlin' rocks
+all the day yestherday, he would be within long ago,' replied the
+covert keeper." "If there is one rabbit with a skinned nose there's a
+hundther, an' they runnin' by mistake to the door they're used to be
+at." Such scattered flowers of speech abound in a book whose very want
+of construction is perhaps symbolical and a reflection of the charming
+incoherence of the Irish mind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It is my painful experience that, when a novelist sets out to write a
+tale of English country life, the better he is at the job the more
+sombre is the finished product. Mr. GEORGE STEVENSON is very good indeed
+at his job; he has sincerity and power, and a certain austere aloofness
+that will take him far; and the result is that _Jenny Cartwright_ (LANE)
+is about as gloomy a story as ever I read. Above everything else, what I
+noticed about this book was its freedom from all straining after effect.
+Whatever takes place, I fancy Mr. STEVENSON saying, do not let us be
+sentimental about it. Half the characters in the book seem to come by
+violent ends; of the two chief women, one commits suicide and the other
+is hanged. Mr. STEVENSON, one can only suppose, speaks of life as he
+finds it. There are really two stories, that of _Beatrice Barrington_,
+the faithless wife of _Sir Philip_, and the dreary mockery of life up at
+The Court, with its hatreds and subterfuges, its crippled master,
+frightened children and spying servants. This is the county as the
+author sees it. Linked with this is the life of the farm, where _Jenny_
+is brought up by an uncle who hates her; where she tends his bedridden
+wife; where her cousin _Beatrice_ goes wrong; where _Beatrice's_
+betrayer is killed in an accident, and her baby falls into the fire; and
+where finally the dour uncle himself, after shooting the young squire
+who has offered dishonourable addresses to _Jenny_, allows her to pay
+the penalty of his crime. There is undeniable strength about the book
+and it holds the attention; but I dispute the right of anyone to call it
+cheerful.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CYNTHIA STOCKLEY has the writing quality in her; she can both see and
+feel; she can do man-talk with a plausibility beyond the reach of most
+of her sex; and she works with a refreshing dash and freedom. With a
+certain carelessness also sometimes; as thus: "The other, turning to
+run, got a shot in his leg that put him out of business, but in spite of
+which he managed to crawl away." And there are little kakophonies, such
+as: "He was loved, openly and gladly, back." The work is good enough to
+make worth while the cleansing of these defects. The author certainly
+puts into a short story more thought and characterisation than is common
+in these days of half-hours with even the best authors through the
+medium of magazine pot-boilers. _Wild Honey_ (CONSTABLE) is the title of
+the first (not quite the best) of an excellent bunch. It sums up the
+bitter-sweet of South Africa, which is the setting of all these stories
+of love, adventure, horror and the wild. They give a strong impression
+of fidelity of draftsmanship, though here we know so little that is
+intimate of the dark continent that we cannot judge how far actual
+occurrences are based on fact or probability. But CYNTHIA STOCKLEY has
+some of the mysterious qualities of a possible South African laureate.
+Perhaps she will contrive to put away a little weakness for tall and
+scornful aristocratic women; but, in any case, I can commend her book
+confidently to all intelligent beach-haunters.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "The price of bread has just been fixed by the authorities at 32
+    centimes the kilometre."--_Globe._
+
+So you can get a couple of yards of French roll for about
+half-a-farthing. Not bad for war-time.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+147, August 19th, 1914, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, VOL. 147, AUG. 19, 1914 ***
+
+***** This file should be named 26969.txt or 26969.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
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