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diff --git a/30575-h/30575-h.htm b/30575-h/30575-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..30997fb --- /dev/null +++ b/30575-h/30575-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2001 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, April 26, 1916.</title> +<style type="text/css"> + +body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} +p {text-align: justify;} +p.author {margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 5%; text-align: right;} +p.indent {text-indent: 1.5em;} +blockquote {text-align: justify;} +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} +pre {font-size: 0.7em;} +table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} +hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} +html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} +hr.full {width: 100%;} +html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} +hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} +html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} +.note {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} +span.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt;} +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps; font-weight: normal;} +.poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} +.poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +.poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} +.poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} +.poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} +.figcenter {padding-right: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: 0.8em; padding-bottom: 1em; + margin: 0px; padding-top: 1em; text-align: center;} +.figcenter img {border-top-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-left-style: none; + border-bottom-style: none;} +.figcenter p {margin: 0px; text-indent: 1em;} +.figcenter {margin: auto;} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. CL, +April 26, 1916, 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. CL, April 26, 1916 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Owen Seaman + +Release Date: December 1, 2009 [EBook #30575] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH-CHARIVARI, APRIL 26, 1916 *** + + + + +Produced by Ritu Aggarwal, Jonathan Ingram and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><b>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:</b> Printer's inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, +and ligature usage have been retained.</p> + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>VOL. CL.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2><span class="smcap">April 26, 1916.</span></h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page273" id="page273"></a>[pg 273]</span></p> + +<h2>CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">General Villa</span>, in pursuit of whom a United States army has already +penetrated four hundred miles into Mexico, is alleged to have died. It +is not considered likely, however, that he will escape as easily as +all that.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"Germans net the Sound," says a recent issue of a contemporary. We +don't know what profit they will get out of it, but we ourselves in +these hard times are only too glad to net anything.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Bags of coffee taken from a Norwegian steamer and destined for German +consumption have been found to contain rubber. Once more the +immeasurable superiority of the German chemist as a deviser of +synthetic substitutes for ordinary household commodities is clearly +illustrated. What a contrast to our own scientists, whose use of this +most valuable food substitute has never gone far beyond an occasional +fowl or beefsteak.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>It has been suggested that in honour of the tercentenary of <span +class="smcap">Shakspeare's</span> birth Barclay's brewery should be replaced +by a new theatre, a replica of the old Globe Theatre, whose site it is +supposed to occupy; and Mr. <span class="smcap">Reginald McKenna</span> is understood to have +stated that it is quite immaterial to him.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"Horseflesh is on sale in the West End," says <i>The Daily Telegraph</i>, +"and the public analyst at Westminster reports having examined a +smoked horseflesh sausage and found it genuine." It is only fair to +our readers, however, to point out that the method of testing sausages +now in vogue, <i>i.e.</i> with a stethoscope, is only useful for +ascertaining the identity of the animal (if any) contained therein, +and is valueless in the case of sausages that are filled with sawdust, +india-rubber shavings, horsehair and other vegetables.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Wandsworth Borough has refused the offer of a horse trough on the +ground that there are not enough horses to use it. But there are +always plenty of shirkers.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Colonel <span class="smcap">Churchill</span> was reported on Tuesday last as having been seen +entering the side door of No. 11, Downing Street. It was, of course, +the critical stage door.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The Austrian Government has issued an appeal for dogs "for sanitary +purposes." The valuable properties of the dog for sterilising sausage +casings have long been a secret of the Teuton.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Commercial Candour.</h3> + +<blockquote><p>"Real Harris Hand-Knitted Socks, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>: worth 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; +unwearable."—<i>Scotch Paper.</i></p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/308.png"><img width="100%" src="images/308.png" alt="" /></a> + <p><i>Shopkeeper.</i> "<span class="smcap">Yes, I want a good useful lad to be partly indoors and partly outdoors.</span>"</p> + <p><i>Applicant.</i> "<span class="smcap">And what becomes of me when the door slams?</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>A Chance for the Illiterate.</h3> + +<blockquote><p>"Wanted, a good, all-round Gardener; illegible."—<i>Provincial +Paper.</i></p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"Gardener.—Wanted at once, clever experienced man with good +knowledge of toms., cucs., mums., &c., to work up small nursery."</p> +<p class="author"><i>Provincial Paper.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>One with a knowledge of nursery language preferred.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote> <p>"<span class="smcap">Manchester, Eng.</span> The election of directors of the Manchester Chamber +of Commerce resulted in the return of eighteen out of twenty-two +directors who are definitely committed to the policy of no free trade +with the 60th Canadian Battalion."</p> +<p class="author"><i>Victoria Colonist (B.C.).</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>We hope the battalion will not retaliate by refusing protection to +Manchester, Eng.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE CURSE OF BABEL.</h2> + +<p>Let me tell you about the Baronne de Blanqueville and her grandson.</p> + +<p>The Baronne is a Belgian lady who came to England in the early days of +the refugee movement, and established herself here in our village.</p> + +<p>With her came her younger daughter and Lou-lou, the infant son of an +elder daughter, who had for some reason to be left behind in Belgium.</p> + +<p>Lou-lou was a year old when, with his grandmother and his aunt, he +settled in England as an <i>émigré</i>. He was then +inarticulate; now he has gained the use of his tongue.</p> + +<p>He has had a little English nursemaid to attend on him, and he has +become a familiar object in many English families of the +neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>In fact, he has had a very English bringing up, and now that he is +more than two years old and can talk, he insists on talking English +with volubility and understanding it with completeness.</p> + +<p>I may mention, by the way, that someone has taught him some +expressions unusual in so young a mouth. The other day I met him in +his perambulator. He said, "I take the air. I'm damn comfable;" +whereupon the nursemaid blushed and chid him.</p> + +<p>That, however, is not the point—at any rate, not the whole of +it.</p> + +<p>What I wish to make clear is this: the Baronne neither speaks nor +understands English, whereas Lou-lou speaks a great deal of English +and no French at all. He rejects that language with a violent shake of +his curly head. He stamps his small foot and tells his adoring +grandmother to speak English or leave him alone.</p> + +<p>Thus a gulf has begun to yawn between the Baronne and her beloved +Lou-lou. Communications are all but broken off. Lou-lou's aunt is in +better case, for she is slowly acquiring English; but the Baronne, I +think, will never learn <i>any</i> English.</p> + +<p>What is to be done?</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"The rage for flower-trimming is nothing short of an +obeisance."—<i>Evening Paper.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>In spite of the War we still bow to the decrees of fashion.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page274" id="page274"></a>[pg 274]</span></p> + +<h2>THE JOY TAX.</h2> + +<blockquote class="note"><p style='text-align:center;'>[By one who is prepared to accept it like +a patriot without further protest.]</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>Now Spring comes laughing down the sky</p> +<p class="i2">To see her buds all busy hatching;</p> +<p class="i4">With tender green the woods are gay,</p> +<p class="i4">And birds, as is their April way,</p> +<p>Chirp merrily on the bough, and I</p> +<p class="i2">Chirp, too, because it's catching.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Full many a joy I must eschew</p> +<p class="i2">And to the tempter's voice "No! No!" say;</p> +<p class="i4">With taxes laid on all delights</p> +<p class="i4">Must miss, with other mirthful sights,</p> +<p>On Monday next my annual view</p> +<p class="i2">Of England's Art Exposé.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I must forgo (and bear the worst</p> +<p class="i2">With what I can of noble calm) a</p> +<p class="i4">Pure bliss from which I only part</p> +<p class="i4">With horrid pain about the heart—</p> +<p>I mean the humour unrehearsed</p> +<p class="i2">Of serious British drama.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But, thank the Lord, I need not miss</p> +<p class="i2">The birds that in their leafy nook coo;</p> +<p class="i4">Young Spring is mine to taste at large,</p> +<p class="i4">The Ministry has made no charge</p> +<p>For earth that warms to April's kiss;</p> +<p class="i2">They haven't taxed the cuckoo!</p> +</div></div> + +<p class="author">O.S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A VOLUNTEER CASUALTY.</h2> + +<p>We were "standing easy" prior to the assault on the undefended heights +of Spanker's Hill when the voice of the platoon-commander disturbed +our thoughts of home and loved ones, and particularly of our Sunday +dinners, which would be very much out of season before we could get at +them.</p> + +<p>"Number 4," he said, in a tone that thrilled us to the bottom twist of +our puttees, "these Body-Snatchers (thus coarsely he alluded to the +Ambulance Section) have been following us all day and haven't had a +single casualty so far. That is why, in the coming advance, I shall be +wounded. Sergeant, you will take over the command, should the worst +befall. Smith and Williams, as you are both big and heavy, you'd +better be knocked out too."</p> + +<p>It was with mingled feelings that I heard my name mentioned. In the +first place, a feeling of annoyance was engendered at having my +proportions thus publicly referred to. But other, and I trust +worthier, thoughts came to me, and, turning to my neighbour, I gave +him a few last messages of a suitably moving nature to be delivered to +my friends. The kind-hearted fellow was deeply affected, and in a +voice broken by emotion offered to take charge of my loose change, and +asked for my watch as a keepsake. I thanked him with tears in my eyes, +but said that the burial party would forward all my valuables to my +relations.</p> + +<p>Our conversation was interrupted by the command "Platoon—'<small>SHUN</small>. +To the left, to six paces, ex-<small>TEND</small>." By an oversight the preliminary +formation usually adopted as a precaution against artillery had been +omitted, and in a moment we were advancing up the hill in open order.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had we started when our officer, the pride of the platoon, +threw up his hands and fell. A moment later, chancing on a piece of +tempting grass, I decided to lie down, and with a choking gurgle +collapsed. As I lay on my back in an appropriate attitude (copied from +the cinema) I wondered when the stretcher-party would appear, for the +grass was damp and the April wind was chilly; but it was not long +before a bright boy, rather over than under military age, ran up and, +after a brief glance at me, began to signal with great vigour. He +meant well, and out of consideration for his feelings I restrained a +desire to tell him that he was creating a beastly draught. However, I +asked him if he had any brandy, and, on receiving an answer in the +negative, groaned deeply.</p> + +<p>"Are you very bad?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," I replied; "but if I lie here much longer I'll catch cold. Tell +your people to hurry up."</p> + +<p>When the stretcher-party arrived they decided that I had been shot in +the chest, and, to get at the wound, began to remove my garments, till +arrested by some virile language thrown off from the part affected. +Then they began to carry me towards the gate of the park, despite the +fact that the stretcher had been meant to hold someone about six +inches shorter than I. Almost immediately the rear man, tripping on a +root, fell on top of me, and the front man, being brought to a sudden +stop, sat on my feet. When we had sorted ourselves out, and I had +stopped talking, more from lack of breath than of matter, we resumed +our journey.</p> + +<p>After a matter of some three hundred yards the bearers began to feel +tired, and, suddenly rolling me off the stretcher, they informed me +that I was discharged as cured. Thus rapidly does a soldier of the +Volunteers recover. It speaks volumes not only for their high state of +physical condition but for the resilience of their <i>moral</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>Intelligent Anticipation.</h3> + +<blockquote><p>"Bucharest, 8.—The 'Universul' has opened a list of +subscriptions in favour of the widows and victims of the coming +Austro-Roumanian war."—<i>Balkan News.</i></p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"'<span class="smcap">Where Angels fear to Tread' at the —— Picture +Theatre.</span>"—<i>Hastings Observer.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>The management doesn't mind so long as the fools rush in.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"The Smyth-Pigotts are the owners of Brockley Court and Brockley Hall, +near Congresbury, a pretty village which—like +Majoribanks—is pronounced Coomesbury."—<i>Daily Sketch.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>Just as, according to the old story, Cholmondeley is pronounced +Marjoribanks.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"Monster Carnival! In aid of Returned Soldiers' Association. Novel +Attractions!!! Realistic Egyptian Pillage, just as our soldiers saw +it. Egyptian goods can be purchased here."—<i>Adelaide Register.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>We hope this does not mean that our gallant Anzacs have been spoiling +the Egyptians.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">A lady</span> would like to let her beautifully furnished <span class="smcap">House</span> or part, or +three or four paying guests; from £2 10s. each."</p> +<p class="author"><i>Bournemouth Daily Echo.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>We have heard of paying guests whom their hosts would have been glad +to part with at an even lower figure.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"Notice.—Found, a Broadwood Piano. Apply, Barrack Warden, No. 1, +Barrack Store, —— Barracks."—<i>Aldershot Command +Orders.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>We think some recent criticism of Army administration is undeserved. +Care is evidently taken in regard to even little things carelessly +left about by the soldier.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"When the election does come there will be no need to ask these +useless M.P.'s to resign. They can be kicked out, and there are plenty +of workmen in the country who are ready to lend a hand at the kicking. +The genuine Labour M.P. is known now, so also is the impostor, who, +like the party hack, hails from nowhere."</p> +<p class="author"><i>Letter in "The Times."</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>We suppose the manual kick, as described above, is the non-party hack.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page275" id="page275"></a>[pg 275]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/310.png"><img width="100%" src="images/310.png" alt="" /></a> + <h3>SERBIA COMES AGAIN.</h3> + <p><span class="smcap">The Bulgar.</span> "I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD."</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page276" id="page276"></a>[pg 276]</span></p> + +<h2>THE WATCH DOGS.</h2> + +<h3>XXXVIII.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Charles,</span>—One of these days I will tell you the more +intimate history of the Corps to which I have the honour to belong, +and this will give you some cause for mirth. Its members are of all +sorts, ages and origins, and they have had between them some odd +experiences since that first day when, parading hastily in Kensington +Gardens, they wished they hadn't been quite so glib, in their anxiety +to get to war, about professing full knowledge of the ways and wiles +of the motor bicycle. One at least of them paid the price of +inexactitude then and there; he still shudders to think how, put to +the test, he unintentionally left the Park for a no less fashionable +but much more crowded thoroughfare, to arrive eventually, in the prone +position, in a byway of Piccadilly, where small fragments of the +machine may still be collected by industrious seekers of curios.</p> + +<p>Another, whom the low cunning of the Criminal Bar enabled to avoid the +immediate test, paid the full price, with compound interest, later on. +Casual observers of the retreat, had there been any, would have become +familiar with the sight of him bringing up the rear—a very poor +last. To see him arrive, perspiring, over the brow of a hill, with his +faithful motor at his side, was to know that the Huns were at the +bottom of it. On one occasion they even beat him in the day's march, +but were too kind or too blind to seize their advantage. As usual he +was taking his obsession along with him, though, if he had but known, +he might have got it to do the work by the simple formality of turning +the petrol tap from <small>OFF</small> to <small>ON</small>. +His was ever a curious life, from the first moment of his joining the +Army in tails, a bowler hat, and a large sword wrapped in a homely +newspaper. But the inward fun of it all is not for the present, +Charles; our clear old friends, the Exigencies, forbidding.</p> + +<p>I am reminded of it all by having just crossed with one of the +later-joined members. He came fresh from the line to a Head-quarters, +and he was walking about in a lane, working off some of his awe of his +new surroundings, when he was overtaken by a car containing a General, +who stopped and asked him what he was. So imposing was the account he +gave of himself that it was said to him, "No doubt, then, you'll know +the way to ——," a village at the back of beyond, where a +division was lying at rest. In the Army, at any rate at a +Head-quarters, we all know everything. So he said, "No doubt, Sir," +hoping, if the worst came to the worst, to give some vague directions +and not to be present when they were found wanting. But it was his bad +luck to have struck one of the more affable Generals. Could he spare +the time to come along and direct the driver?</p> + +<p>So on to the box he got (it was a closed car) and, with the General's +eye always upon his back, he did his best as guide, a task for which +his previous career of stockbroker had ill qualified him. The first +thing to happen was that the car, proceeding down a narrow lane, got +well into the middle of a battalion on the march, which, when the car +was firmly jammed amongst the transport, ceased to be on the march, +and took a generous ten minutes' halt.... The second thing to happen +was a level crossing; which, as they approached it, changed its mind +about being a road and became a railway. A nice long train duly +arrived, and (this needs no exaggeration) stayed there, with a few +restless movements, for twenty minutes by the clock.... The third +thing to happen was that he lost himself (and the General); the fourth +was the falling of dusk, and the fifth a ploughed field, with which my +friend, alighting, had to confess that he was not so intimately +acquainted as he could have wished.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/311.png"><img width="100%" src="images/311.png" alt="" /></a> + <h3>THE TRENCH TOUCH.</h3> + <p><i>Warrior in bunker (to caddie, who is seeing if the course is clear).</i> "<span class="smcap">Keep down, you fool!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<p>Had there been a scene, he could, he says, have endured the worst +bravely, standing to attention and taking it as it came. Not so, +however; his was the wrong sort of General for the purpose. As does +the partner at the dance, over whose priceless gown you have upset the +indelible ice, he said it didn't matter. He said he'd give the +division a miss, and return whence they had come. This they began to +do, when they had got the car out of the ploughed field, and this they +went on doing until the sixth thing happened, which was a burst tyre.</p> + +<p>Again, had there been a scene, my man could have explained that this +wasn't his fault; but no one <i>said</i> it was his fault. Equally it was +never openly alleged that he was to blame for the driver's not being +prepared with a spare wheel ready for use. But his embarrassment was +such that my man was grateful to heaven for reminding him at this +juncture of the existence of R.F.C. Head-quarters, about a kilometre +away. He said he'd run and borrow a wheel off them, and before the +General could say him nay he'd started.... He ran all the way, and +burst, panting, into the officers' mess, where he had the misfortune +to strike another itinerant General.</p> + +<p>It never rains but it pours, and the area seemed to be infested with +Generals of quite the wrong sort. He couldn't have hit upon a more +kind and genial and inappropriate one than this. No, he wouldn't allow +a word of apology or explanation from this exhausted lieutenant until +the latter had rested and refreshed himself with a cup of tea. No, not +out of that pot; it had been standing too long. Tea which had stood +should not be drunk, for reasons detailed at length. No doubt the +Colonel, whose guest he was, would order some more to be made. It +would take two minutes—it did take twenty. No, no; there was +nothing to say and nothing need be said. It was this General's +particular wish that he should be at peace and make himself at home. +Let him make his explanations and apologies later.</p> + +<p>Whatever you would have done, my overwhelmed friend +temporized. He was just edging the conversation round +<span class='pagenum'><a name="page277" id="page277"></a>[pg 277]</span> +to the other General, waiting alone in the dark wet road, when the +General in the nice warm room rose to go, commanding my friend not to +disturb himself on that account. Being a man of some years he was a +slow goer; being a General, he was not to be interrupted in his +going....</p> + +<p>I don't know exactly how it all ended, nor, you may not be surprised +to learn, does my friend, though he is always expecting to hear.</p> + +<p>There was also on our boat a subaltern, coming to France for the first +time. He wanted me to tell him all about it. How well I know these +subalterns who want to know all about it. I was one myself once. Does +he ask you what it's like in the mud? Does he listen if you give him +details of bloodshed? Does he inquire about the food, the washing +facilities, parapet or parados; what a time-fuse does when its time +has expired, or even as to the use and abuse of the entrenching tool? +No, he's for war only, and there's only one question in war: Do you or +do you not need a Sam Browne belt in the trenches?</p> + +<p>It is an old question; there is no solution. I told him that some say +one thing and some say another, and, as both are authorities with whom +you are not in a position to argue, the only way to get out of the +difficulty is to keep out of the trenches.</p> + +<p class="author">Yours ever, <span class="smcap">Henry.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> + <a href="images/312.png"><img width="100%" src="images/312.png" alt="" /></a> + <h3>OUR AMAZON CORPS "STANDING EASY."</h3> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p>From a hotel advertisement:—</p> + +<blockquote><p style='text-align:center;'>"<span class="smcap">Excellent Cuisine. Separate Stables.</span>"</p> +<p class="author"><i>West-Country Paper.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>The <span class="smcap">Wise King</span> must have had a presentiment of this arrangement when he +wrote: "Better a dinner of herbs, where love is, than a stalled ox and +hatred therewith."</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"The Premier (Sir Alexander Peacock) said that many years ago, when +the world rang with the atrocities of Turks, Rev. Dr. Parker startled +the whole world when, in a fiery address on those awful atrocities +which were visited on the Christians, he cried, 'Dod damn the Sultan.' +Now, when they heard of the cruelties and indescribable sufferings +which had been visited upon the innocent people in order to satisfy +the ideas of one man they could say, 'Kod damn the Kaiser.' (Great +cheers)."—<i>Sydney Daily Telegraph.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>Strong language for a Premier! But the printer has done his best to +tone it down.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>NURSERY RHYMES OF LONDON TOWN.</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">VIII.—Orchard Street.</span></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>The fruit hangs ripe, the fruit hangs sweet,</p> +<p>High and low in my Orchard Street,</p> +<p>Apples and pears, cherries and plums,</p> +<p>Something for everyone who comes.</p> +<p class="i6">If you're a Pedlar</p> +<p class="i6">I'll give you a medlar;</p> +<p class="i6">If you're a Prince</p> +<p class="i6">I'll give you a quince;</p> +<p class="i6">If you're a Queen,</p> +<p class="i6">A nectarine;</p> +<p class="i6">If you're the King</p> +<p class="i6">Take anything,</p> +<p>Apricots, mulberries, melons or red and white</p> +<p>Currants like rubies and pearls on a string!</p> +<p class="i6">Little girls each</p> +<p class="i6">Shall have a peach,</p> +<p>Boys shall have grapes that hang just out of reach—</p> +<p>Nothing's to pay, whatever you eat</p> +<p>Of the fruit that grows in my Orchard Street.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"USEFL. hlp. ckng. no wshg. fam. 2."</p> +<p class="author"><i>Morning Paper.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>Th. is rl. wd. plp. ecnmy.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page278" id="page278"></a>[pg 278]</span></p> + +<h2>A NIGHT OUT WITH A ZEPPELIN.</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By Karl Von Weekend<br /> +(hyphenated neutral).</span><br /> +(<i>Concluded.</i>)</h3> + +<p>Beneath us—beneath, in a manner of speaking, the iron heel of +the all-conquering Fatherland—lay perfidious England. I, as a +mere layman, had, of course, not the vaguest idea as to precisely what +vital portion of the doomed island was immediately below us. Not so my +host, the Captain Sigismund von Münchhausen, who suddenly snapped +together the stethoscope through which he had been gazing and rapped +out a monosyllabic order down the speaking tube at his right hand.</p> + +<p>"We are now," he said, turning courteously to me, "diametrically above +the entrenched camp of Little Tillingham-under-Hill." A fearful crash +sounded from the depths below and a voice muttered something through +the speaking tube. "A hit!" cried the Captain without emotion. +"Ober-Leutnant von Dachswurst reports that the Arsenal, three +munitions factories and two infant schools are in flames. Ah! Now we +have reached Birmingham!" Another crash rent the abysm. "Now Glasgow!" +A third terrific explosion was audible.</p> + +<p>"But," I cried, "we can't have got from Birmingham to Glasgow in +thirty-five seconds." For a moment the Captain's eyes flashed angrily. +He clenched his feet, and, remembering the horrible fate of the +seasick sailor, I crouched against the bulwark. With an effort, +however, the man mastered himself. I was relieved to see an enigmatic +smile overspread his countenance.</p> + +<p>"It is plain," he said, in the voice of one patiently rebuking a +child, "that you do not know what a German airship can do. Ah! ha! +There goes Bristol!" he added, as further detonations smote upon our +ears.</p> + +<p>And so the hideous carnage proceeded. Grasmere, Aberystwith, +Stratford-on-Avon, Freshwater Bay and the Lizard—with dreadful +precision these teeming hives of English industry were laid waste, +incinerated, scattered to the winds in fine impalpable dust. I thought +sadly of the brave men in khaki that were being cut off by the +thousand in their prime (for the gallant Captain had taken the utmost +precaution not to drop any of his bombs in the neighbourhood of +non-combatants). But, after all, I mused, they will soon be replaced +by intelligent Germans, a blessing that civilization will not be slow +to appreciate.</p> + +<p>At this moment the Captain approached me with an object in his hand. +"You neutrals," he said, "have been deceived before now by the +ridiculous reports disseminated by our enemies as to the results of +these raids. But here is the proof." He then explained to me that to +every Zeppelin was attached a large sinker or plummet, which was +covered with grease and lowered from a drum to a few yards above the +spot where the bomb was destined to fall. To this plummet adhered +fragments of various objects, animate or other, which the explosion of +the missile hurled into the air. Such a fragment the Captain was now +extending for my observation. I admitted that to my uninitiated eye it +closely resembled a portion of the outer surface of a cow or some +kindred animal. "You are indeed ignorant," said my host, smiling in +the same enigmatic way. "The object is undoubtedly a fragment of the +propeller shaft of a large vessel, which satisfies me that at Swanage, +where our last bomb was dropped, a portion of the High Seas Fleet was +anchored. And as a matter of fact," he added, producing a small dark +object from his pocket, "here is a part of Sir <span class="smcap">John Jellicoe's</span> +necktie. Notice how precisely it tallies with the descriptions +furnished by our secret agents, one of whom is actually engaged about +the Admiral's person disguised as a pastry-cook."</p> + +<p>Here, then, was the proof. One could not doubt the evidence of one's +senses. But mine had been subjected to an unusual test that night, and +when the Captain, well satisfied with his night's work, courteously +invited me to have another glass of schnapps with him I accepted with +alacrity. The glass was hardly at my lips when an orderly announced +that we were at anchor in the shed. Thanking the brave Captain for the +most wonderful experience of a not uninteresting lifetime, I hurried +away to my hotel and fell into a deep slumber. When I awoke late that +afternoon my manservant placed in my hand the last edition of the +London <i>Times</i>. It stated that there had been a Zeppelin raid, and +that 19 civilians, three cows, four churches, two rows of cottages, +one omnibus, and no soldiers had been destroyed.</p> + +<p>I smiled—enigmatically.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"Socialist Working Man, aged 25, would welcome companionship of +Socialist exempted conscientious objector, chiefly for week-end +cycling; or athletic lady holding similar views would suit, residing +North Kent area."</p> +<p class="author"><i>Socialist Paper.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>It would be much better for him to meet an athletic lady not holding +similar views.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE OCC. POET'S APOLOGIA.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>Where the moon's unmitigated crescent,</p> +<p class="i2">Sailing through the amethystine deeps,</p> +<p>With a smile sardonic and senescent</p> +<p class="i2">Down upon our Armageddon peeps;</p> +<p>Thither, drawn by sympathy ecstatic,</p> +<p class="i2">Like a shooting star my spirit flies</p> +<p>From the company of gross, lymphatic</p> +<p class="i2">Souls entangled by terrestrial ties.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Where the sombre azimuths are booming,</p> +<p class="i2">Flecked with argent elemental foam,</p> +<p>And the stately colocynths are blooming</p> +<p class="i2">In a salicylic monochrome;</p> +<p>There, transported on pellucid pinions,</p> +<p class="i2">Sick of common sense I seek repose,</p> +<p>Far from the disconsolate dominions</p> +<p class="i2">Tainted by the tyranny of prose.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>O'er the whole translunar gamut ranging.</p> +<p class="i2">There my astral body slides and skims,</p> +<p>Choriambic melodies exchanging</p> +<p class="i2">With the apolaustic cherubims;</p> +<p>Weaving in a polyphonic pattern</p> +<p class="i2">Harmonies that mock at clefs and bars;</p> +<p>Toying with the shining rings of Saturn,</p> +<p class="i2">Throwing star-dust in the eyes of Mars.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>There, suspended in a sumptuous limbo,</p> +<p class="i2">Like a happier version of the boy</p> +<p>Drawn by Mr. <span class="smcap">Blackwood</span> in his <i>Jimbo</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">I shall taste of bliss without alloy;</p> +<p>Other minstrels may indulge in fighting,</p> +<p class="i2">I myself cannot so far forget</p> +<p>As to shun the raptures of inditing</p> +<p class="i2">Occ. verse for the <i>Bestspinster Gazette</i>.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p>For our "Glimpses of the Obvious":</p> + +<blockquote><p>"An interesting feature in the prone trees was that they all fell in +one direction, showing the direction from which the blast came."</p> +<p class="author"><i>Morning Paper.</i></p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"So soft and loose was the earth that the trench walls had to be +rivetted."</p> +<p class="author"><i>Daily Sketch.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>A very curious treatment. Personally we always use a safety-pin.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"Inquiries are being received at Lloyds for insurance to pay total +loss in case of peace being declared during the present war."</p> +<p class="author"><i>Montreal Gazette.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>We ourselves should take our chance of this contingency.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"The total import value of matches is less +than £1,000,000 per annum, and if £2,000,000 +is to be collected, it will make matches 6d. +or even more per dozen."—<i>Daily Chronicle.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">McKenna</span> surely cannot have realized this.</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page279" id="page279"></a>[pg 279]</span></p> + +<h2>MR. PUNCH'S POTTED FILMS. THE SENTIMENTAL DRAMA.</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" width="80%" summary="Pansy Faces"> +<tr align="center"> + <td width="50%" valign="top"> + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/314-1.png"><img width="100%" src="images/314-1.png" alt="" /></a> + <p><span class="smcap">Reginald Carstairs, reading during the vacation at a + remote country village, falls in love with the landlady's fair daughter, Rosie. + In the old orchard she would sing to him "Pansy Faces.</span>"</p> + </div> + </td> + <td width="50%" valign="top"> + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/314-2.png"><img width="100%" src="images/314-2.png" alt="" /></a> + <p><span class="smcap">Reginald's haughty father will not hear of his union with the rustic + girl, and marries him to a wealthy heiress. He continually annoys her + by picking out on the piano the music of an old song. And so they + reach a loveless middle-age.</span></p> + </div> + </td> +</tr> +<tr align="center"> + <td width="50%" valign="top"> + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/314-3.png"><img width="100%" src="images/314-3.png" alt="" /></a> + <p><span class="smcap">In the meantime Rosie has had her voice cultivated, And, Under the + Name of "La Belle Rossignolette," Has Taken the Continent by storm. In the midst + of her greatest triumphs, however, she is often <i>distraite</i>.</span></p> + </div> + </td> + <td width="50%" valign="top"> + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/314-4.png"><img width="100%" src="images/314-4.png" alt="" /></a> + <p><span class="smcap">Coming at length to London, she appears in Grand Opera. For her first + night Carstairs, little knowing her true identity, has taken the + stage-box. She recognises him, and, instead of singing her opening + song, electrifies the house by giving "Pansy Faces.</span>"</p> + </div> + </td> +</tr> +<tr align="center"> + <td width="50%" valign="top"> + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/314-5.png"><img width="100%" src="images/314-5.png" alt="" /></a> + <p><span class="smcap">In the sensation that ensues the theatre catches fire. Rosie rescues + Reginald, but his wife perishes in the flames.</span></p> + </div> + </td> + <td width="50%" valign="top"> + <div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/314-6.png"><img width="100%" src="images/314-6.png" alt="" /></a> + <p><span class="smcap">In the evening of life: "Pansy Faces."</span></p> + </div> + </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page280" id="page280"></a>[pg 280]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> +<a href="images/315.png"><img width="100%" src="images/315.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><span class="smcap">The above squad, containing an ex-contortionist, has just received the +following instruction:—"At the command 'Backward bend,' place +the hands on the hips and bend back as far as possible."</span></p> +</div> + + +<hr /> + + +<h2>MORE EYE-WASH.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>Whene'er I see some high brass-hatted man</p> +<p class="i2">Inspect the Depôt with his ribboned train,</p> +<p>When all seems spick and absolutely span</p> +<p class="i2">And no man spits and nothing gives him pain,</p> +<p>I think what blissful ignorance is theirs</p> +<p class="i2">Who only see us on inspection days,</p> +<p>And wonder, could they catch us unawares,</p> +<p class="i2">Would they be still so eloquent of praise?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>They think the soldiers are a cleanly type,</p> +<p class="i2">For all their brass is bright with elbow-fat,</p> +<p>Burnished their bayonets and oiled their hyp;</p> +<p class="i2">Do they suppose they always look like that?</p> +<p>They see the quarters beautiful and gay,</p> +<p class="i2">Yet never realise, with all their lore,</p> +<p>Those bright new beds were issued yesterday</p> +<p class="i2">And will to-morrow be returned to store.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>They doubtless say, "Was ever drill so deft?</p> +<p class="i2">Were ever rifles so precisely sloped?</p> +<p>Observe that section change direction left</p> +<p class="i2">So much, much better than the best we hoped;"</p> +<p>But little know with what grim enterprise</p> +<p class="i2">For week on week that clever-looking crew</p> +<p>Have practised up for their especial eyes</p> +<p class="i2">The sole manœuvre they can safely do.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And I could tell where many a canker gnaws</p> +<p class="i2">Within the walls they fancy free from sin;</p> +<p>I know how officers infringe their laws,</p> +<p class="i2">I know the corners where the men climb in;</p> +<p>I know who broke the woodland fence to bits</p> +<p class="i2">And what platoon attacked the Shirley cow,</p> +<p>While the dull Staff, for all their frantic chits,</p> +<p class="i2">Know not the truth of that distressing row.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>These are the things I think they should be taught,</p> +<p class="i2">But, since I know what ages must elapse,</p> +<p>What forms be filled, what signatures be sought,</p> +<p class="i2">Ere I have speech with such exalted chaps,</p> +<p>I here announce that they are much misled,</p> +<p class="i2">That they should see us when we think them far,</p> +<p>Should steal upon us, all unheralded,</p> +<p class="i2">And find what frauds, what awful frauds we are.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"I was astonished that not a Londoner raised a cheer for +the fine Bankers' Battalion of the Fusiliers which marched through the +City to-day. We are really absurdly shy."</p> +<p class="author"><i>"Quex Junior" in "Evening News," April 15.</i></p> + +<p>"The older comrades, who are keeping banks going in the absence +of the younger patriots, turned out to cheer their comrades."</p> +<p class="author"><i>"Evening News," same date.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>The older bankers, we must presume, are all from the +provinces, and not so shy.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page281" id="page281"></a>[pg 281]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> +<a href="images/316.png"><img width="100%" src="images/316.png" alt="" /></a> +<h3>THE CHAMPION OF THE SMALLER NATIONS.</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">Imperial Pachyderm.</span> "OUR HEART GOES OUT TO THESE POOR LITTLE UNPROTECTED +EGGS. THEY WANT MOTHERING. WE WILL SIT ON THEM." [<i>Does so.</i>]</p> +<blockquote><p style='text-align:center;'>[With Mr. Punch's apologies to a noble animal.]</p></blockquote> +</div> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page282" id="page282"></a>[pg 282]</span></p> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> +<a href="images/317.png"><img width="100%" src="images/317.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i><span class="smcap">Colonel Churchill</span> (arriving post-haste at the House of Commons from +the Front, on April 18</i>), "<span class="smcap">Come I too late for the Premier's +statement?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Constable.</i> "<span class="smcap">On the contrary, Sir, you're a day too early.</span>"</p> +<blockquote><p style='text-align:center;'>[The Constable was in error. He should have said a week.]</p></blockquote> +</div> + +<p><i>Monday, April 17th.</i>—The hon. Member who described the present +Parliamentary situation as "a cabal every afternoon and a crisis every +second day" is justified of his epigram. The lobbies this afternoon +were full of agitated whisperers, with much talk of a divided Cabinet +and this and that Minister on the brink of resignation, because they +cannot agree upon the number of men they want for the Army or the best +method of obtaining them. All of which must be very comforting to our +enemies.</p> + +<p>Some anxiety is felt on the Treasury Bench owing to the marked +shortage of Members from Ireland. Hitherto, whenever the Government +has seemed to be in danger, Mr. <span class="smcap">Redmond's</span> followers have trooped over +from Dublin to the rescue. But to-day most of them are absent. Some +attribute their defection to chagrin at their shortsightedness in +resisting the appointment of Mr. <span class="smcap">Campbell</span> as Lord Chancellor of +Ireland. As Attorney-General they fear he will exert a much more +potent influence in Irish affairs.</p> + +<p>Faithful among the faithless, Mr. <span class="smcap">Ginnell</span> was in his place. He is not +interested in the troubles of the British Government. His present +obsession is the alleged over-taxation of his own beloved country. In +order that he might have due verge and scope to expatiate upon that +grievance be pressed the <span class="smcap">Prime Minister</span> to arrange an early sitting on +Wednesday and also to suspend the eleven o'clock rule. At this +naïve suggestion the House relieved its tension with a hearty +laugh.</p> + +<p>How much truth there may be in the stories of Ministerial dissension I +do not know; but there is undoubtedly a <span class="smcap">Cave</span> on the Treasury Bench. In +the absence of the <span class="smcap">Chancellor</span> he took charge of the Report Stage of +the Finance Bill, and very well he acquitted himself. Incidentally the +<span class="smcap">Solicitor-General</span> had the honour of bringing about a notable +reconciliation. Among the few occupants of the Nationalist benches +were Mr. <span class="smcap">Dillon</span> and Mr. <span class="smcap">Timothy Healy</span>, who for some years past have +rarely met without a collision. Accordingly when Mr. <span class="smcap">Dillon</span> had +resisted a proposal to fine any visitor to an entertainment who did +not pay the Amusements-tax, it was confidently expected that Mr. <span class="smcap">Healy</span> +would find excellent reasons for asserting that this was the best +clause in the whole Bill, and that only a melancholy humbug would +oppose it. Instead he vigorously supported his former foe with an +argument that I am sure Mr. <span class="smcap">Dillon</span> would never have thought of. "Was +it not a weird proposal," he asked, "that a child who had unwittingly +walked; through a turnstile should forthwith become a convict and lose +its Old-Age Pension?"</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday, April 18th.</i>—When one has at last screwed up one's +courage to have a tooth out, there is nothing more unnerving than to +be told by the dentist that he cannot operate to-day and that one must +come again to-morrow. The House of Commons felt like that this +afternoon. Members had flocked from all parts of the +kingdom—Nationalist Ireland excepted—to hear the <span class="smcap">Prime +Minister's</span> promised statement. Col. <span class="smcap">Churchill</span>, Lord <span class="smcap">Hugh Cecil</span> (with a +patch on his lofty brow denoting a recent casualty), and other +warrior-statesmen had reluctantly torn themselves from the attractions +of the trenches to do their duty at Westminster. The Ladies' Gallery +was filled to overflowing.</p> + +<p>Then the ominous word went round, "No statement to-day." Sure enough, +when the <span class="smcap">Prime Minister</span> rose and hushed the buzz of conversation that +had rendered Questions inaudible, it was merely to observe that there +were still some points outstanding, that no statement would be +adequate without their adjustment, and that he would therefore +postpone his motion for the Easter adjournment until to-morrow. Sir +<span class="smcap">Edward Carson's</span> motion demanding compulsory service for all men of +military age would, if necessary, be discussed on Thursday.</p> + +<p>Members hastened out into the Lobby to chatter about the new phase of +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="page283" id="page283"></a>[pg 283]</span> +crisis and to speculate as to what were the points outstanding, +and whether the <span class="smcap">Minister of Munitions</span> was or was not the +prickliest of them. To the noise and flurry created by their exit Mr. +<span class="smcap">McKenna</span> owes it that his Finance Bill will appear in the Journals of +the House as having been passed without a dissenting voice. Mr. <span +class="smcap">Whitley</span>, who was in the Chair, has not the commanding +tones of Mr. <span class="smcap">Lowther</span>, and when he put the question, "That this Bill be +now read a Third time," nobody rose to speak. Accordingly he declared +that the "Ays" had it; and though several Members then protested that +they had not heard the question put, and urged that it should be put +again, he politely but firmly declined to oblige them.</p> + +<p>In an incautious moment yesterday Mr. <span class="smcap">Tennant</span> advised Mr. <span class="smcap">Snowden</span> to +use his imagination. I should have thought the advice was superfluous, +for, to judge by some of the stories that the Member for Blackburn is +in the habit of retailing to the House regarding the persecution of +conscientious objectors by callous N.C.O.'s, his imagination is +working overtime. On the motion for the adjournment Mr. <span class="smcap">Tennant</span> had to +listen to several more of them. He was rewarded for his patience by +obtaining an unexpected testimonial from Mr. <span class="smcap">King</span>, who in his most +patronising tones declared that he was sorry for the <span class="smcap">Under Secretary</span>, +who was really "a great deal better than the average man in the +street."</p> + +<p>In readiness for the <span class="smcap">Prime Minister's</span> anticipated statement, Lord +<span class="smcap">Milner</span> had put down a motion in the House of Lords in favour of +compulsory service for all men of military age; and, despite the +changed circumstances, he persisted in moving it, and made an +admirable speech in its support. Lord <span class="smcap">Crewe</span>, indeed, found it +unanswerable for the time being, as Downing Street was "still +thinking." He could not say when its thoughts would be resolved into +decision, but hoped it might be to-morrow—or, if not to-morrow, +Thursday—or, if not Thursday, then perhaps Monday. Lord <span class="smcap">Crewe</span> +has not sat at Mr. <span class="smcap">Asquith's</span> feet all these years without catching +something of his methods.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday, April 19th.</i>—The House was even more crowded and +anxious than yesterday. In the Peers' Gallery a dim figure, carrying a +bunch of primroses and looking astonishingly like Mr. <span class="smcap">Dennis Eadie</span>, +was heard to murmur, "I wonder whether England loves Coalitions any +more than she did in my time." The present <span class="smcap">Prime Minister</span> appears to +think that she does, for, after remarking that continued disagreement +on material points threatened a breakup of the Government, he ventured +to describe that contingency as a national disaster. The Liberals +thought so too, and cheered loudly; the Unionists were not quite so +sure, and Sir <span class="smcap">Edward Carson</span>, beside whom sat Col. <span class="smcap">Churchill</span>, looking +as if he had never heard of Ulster, indicated that, while he would be +the last man to refuse the Government time for repentance and +reformation, he would in the meantime keep his Resolution on the Paper +for use if necessary when the House met again.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"> +<a href="images/318.png"><img width="100%" src="images/318.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>First Stoker (weary).</i> "<span class="smcap">I'd like to find the merchant 'oo invented boilers!</span>"</p> +<p><i>Second Stoker (also weary).</i> "<span class="smcap">Boilers be blowed! I'm lookin' for the blighter +'oo found out that coal would burn.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Wanted.</span> Reliable Woman to Wash Mondays, 2s. 6d. +daily."—<i>Llanelly Star.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>Some Mondays are so black.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"War Work for capable open-air Woman of leisure. Wanted to help sister +of man called up to run sole grocery shop in lovely +country."—<i>Advt. in "The Times."</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>Why wasn't he called up to fight?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>The Observer</i> rebuked <i>The Daily News</i> for unkindness in remarking +that at a certain point in the recent "Poets' Reading," Mr. <span class="smcap">Birrell</span>, +"who had been sitting with his head in his hands, looked up +delighted." But was it quite nice of <i>The Observer</i> itself to say in +its account of the same function that "the Prime Minister looked in +when the readings were in progress, and remained for some time talking +with many friends"?</p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page284" id="page284"></a>[pg 284]</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> +<a href="images/319.png"><img width="100%" src="images/319.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>Peppery Senior (through din of Bosches' "morning hate").</i> "<span class="smcap">Late for breakfast again.</span>"</p> +<p><i>Very Junior Officer (apologetically).</i> "<span class="smcap">Sorry, Sir. Didn't hear the gong.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE PHILATELIST.</h2> + +<p>This was the day appointed, after considerable discussion, for our +visit to London, and at an early hour Frederick and I were ready for +the journey. Frederick, who is tending slowly, as it seems to me, +towards an as yet sufficiently remote ninth birthday, had been +vigorously and successfully scrubbed till he shone with an unwonted +absence of grime; his hair had been temporarily battened down; his +Eton collar was speckless, and his knickerbocker suit, while not +aggressively new, was appropriate and free from visible rents. I +cannot say he was impressed with the solemnity of the occasion, but he +was eager and fully determined to purchase as many stamps as could be +secured for the generous prize of money bestowed upon him by a lady +who had observed his progress in the study of Nature—beetles, +moths, tadpoles and the like—and had noted his ever-growing +passion for postage-stamps.</p> + +<p>London he looked upon as one gigantic repository of stamps. I spoke to +him of Trafalgar Square and the Nelson Column and the Landseer Lions. +He replied by informing me that there was a certain issue of Mauritius +which was valued at £1,200. "If," he said, "I could get that +some day I shouldn't want to collect any more."</p> + +<p>"It seems," I said, "a lot of money to pay for a small piece of +paper."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he agreed, "it is; but perhaps I could get it cheap in some old +shop which didn't know much about it."</p> + +<p>I then tried to divert his attention to the prospect of having +luncheon with me at the Rhadamanthus Club, but he begged me not to +interrupt him, as he was endeavouring to calculate how many years it +would take him to get together the sum if he could manage to save +two-pence a week out of his pocket-money. After a short mental +struggle, however, he gave it up and banished the blue Mauritius, or +whatever it is, from his ambitions and his conversation.</p> + +<p>Before we started Francesca addressed a few earnest words to me about +the proper care of a boy in London.</p> + +<p>"Be sure," she said, "to see that he keeps his hands clean. I should +hate to think that he was wandering about Piccadilly and Pall Mall +with dirty hands."</p> + +<p>"He'll have to wander," I said, "with such hands as Nature provides +for him. No little boy can ever keep his hands clean anywhere for more +than half a minute at a stretch."</p> + +<p>"But you might give him an occasional wash, you know."</p> + +<p>"I will do everything," I said, "that may become a father, short of +carrying about a wash-hand basin and a jug of water and a piece of +soap and a towel through Piccadilly and Pall Mall."</p> + +<p>"And his hair," she said,—"you'll not let it got too untidy, +will you?"</p> + +<p>"I'll brush it when I can," I said; "but you must remember that a +little boy without a Catherine-wheel of hair on the back of his head +is only fit for a museum. I must insist on his keeping his +Catherine-wheel substantially intact."</p> + +<p>Well, at last we got off in the train on our adventure, I with a +morning paper, and Frederick deep in a stamp-catalogue, from which he +occasionally brought forth things old and new. In due time we reached +our destination and stood triumphant in the stamp-shop. It was not a +large shop, but it was a rich shop, owning countless valuable +varieties, and Frederick, whose hands were now of the subfuse +hue which Cambridge insists on for the garments of her +candidates, was soon engaged in an animated discussion with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="page285" id="page285"></a>[pg 285]</span> +the affable and amused proprietor. At last the five shillings were exhausted +and the deal was complete, the last item consisting of a perfectly terrific +set of Gaboon stamps, each decorated with the fuzzy head of a +spear-bearing native warrior. It speaks volumes for the power and +courage of our French allies that they should have been able to +overcome these savage and formidable tribesmen, and reduce them to the +order that is implied by the existence of a post-office and the +possession of stamps.</p> + +<p>We now found that we had about forty minutes to spare. It is hardly +necessary to say that, being in the immediate neighbourhood of the +Strand, we devoted the time to a Cinema. The change from the Gaboon +and its truculent inhabitants to a highly sentimentalised +fishing-village was something of a wrench, but Frederick, clutching +his purchases and his catalogue as if his life depended on stamps, was +equal to it. He bore without flinching the storms and the wrecks, and +the bodies of drowned men tossed upon the shore. Nor did he audibly +disapprove when one fisherman, rescued from death, lost his memory for +many years, and eventually regained it in extreme old age amid the +rejoicings of his relatives and neighbours.</p> + +<p>Thence we passed by a happy change to the detached and melancholy +malice of Mr. <span class="smcap">Charles Chaplin</span>, of whom I can now say, <i>Vidi tantum</i>. +Mr. <span class="smcap">Chaplin's</span> victim on this occasion was a well-dressed foreign +gentleman of perfect manners but fiery temper, who was compelled to +suffer a series of dreadful indignities. We left him struggling +silently but furiously against an adhesive lobster salad which Mr. +<span class="smcap">Chaplin</span> had, in an absent-minded moment, plastered over his face.</p> + +<p>We now went on to the Rhadamanthus. Here the rite of washing and +brushing was duly performed, Frederick remarking with obvious regret +that if it had only been on the Cinema he would have had to throw the +soap at me and splash the water in my face. "But," he added, "I shall +be able to do it to Alice when I get home." He was not at all +overwhelmed by the marble and gilded splendours of our palace, but sat +himself down to luncheon as if he had an immemorial right to be there. +General Wilbraham (in khaki), Mr. Justice Black, and Mr. Trevor, the +eminent publisher, kind old gentlemen, my friends and contemporaries, +came up to us and were introduced to the little boy and smiled at him +and patted his head, where the indomitable Catherine-wheel still +whirled in triumph, and all declared that it was hardly tolerable in +another to be so young, and asked him what it felt like, and said that +growing up was the great mistake.</p> + +<p>And then a strange thing happened. The luncheon-room suddenly became a +hall filled with boys. The General and the Judge and the Publisher +dwindled and changed. The long-lost hair came back to their heads in +great untidy tufts; they put on Eton jackets and collars and grubby +hands. In fact, they were little boys again; and Master Wilbraham said +he was keeping <i>Cave</i>, and Master Black said something was a regular +chouse, and Master Trevor declared violently that somebody was a sneak +and that somebody else must have tweaks for new clothes. It lasted for +a moment, and then, as with a puff of air, it all changed back, and we +were again in the luncheon-room of the club, four time-worn veterans +and one eager little boy tightly grasping a catalogue of stamps.</p> + +<p class="author">R. C. L.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> +<a href="images/320.png"><img width="100%" src="images/320.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>Subaltern (proudly, as devastating motor-cyclist dashes by).</i> "<span class="smcap">One of 'ours.</span>'"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page286" id="page286"></a>[pg 286]</span></p> + +<h2>AT THE PLAY.</h2> + +<h3>"<span class="smcap">The Show Shop.</span>"</h3> + +<p>The drama is almost the only religion I know that can expose the +mysteries of its ritual to the vulgar gaze and yet retain the devotion +of its worshippers. There is nothing a British audience so loves as to +be taken behind the scenes and shown how it is done—or not done; +and then it will attend the next play and go on adoring with the +blindest infatuation. Were it not for this astounding gift of +resilience one might deplore the prurient curiosity that wants to peep +into the hollow image of Isis and get at the machinery of the +priesthood.</p> + +<p>More human and wholesome is the satisfaction derived from the +revelation of amateur foibles, for here we are laughing at ourselves, +as in <i>A Pantomime Rehearsal</i>. In <i>The Show Shop</i> this element was +supplied by a young plutocrat who took a small part with a travelling +company in order to be near his <i>fiancée</i>, the leading lady; +and continued in it as <i>jeune premier</i> because she refused to be made +love to on the stage by anybody else. In assuming a <i>rôle</i> for +which he was incredibly ill-qualified he seemed likely to facilitate +the achievement of his purpose, namely to make the play a hopeless +failure and so secure the deliverance of his lady from the thraldom of +her mother's ambitions and set her free to marry him.</p> + +<p>However, the failure failed to come off, and although he forgot to +remove his overcoat (containing the stolen bonds) at a critical +juncture on which the Great Situation turned—the error was so +deadly that the mother, who had stage-managed the thing and was +witnessing the first performance from a box, actually rose in her seat +to correct it—the play was a roaring success; and there was +nothing for it but a secret marriage, marred by the prospect of a two +years' run "on Broadway."</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">A. E. Matthews</span>, as the amateur, made extraordinarily good fun for +us; and there was something fresh in the idea of following up the +dress rehearsal with a first night. It not only gave the amateur his +chance of making the big mistake against which he had been thoroughly +warned, but our own applause allowed the company to put into practice +the lessons they had learned in those sacred conventions which +regulate the taking of a call.</p> + +<p>There are those who say that Transatlantic humour should be +interpreted exclusively by a native cast, and that an Anglo-American +alliance is a mistake. I trust President <span class="smcap">Wilson's</span> recent policy will +not be affected by this view. Certainly, though the combination was +responsible for the noisiest fun of the farce, the purely American +performance of Miss <span class="smcap">Margaret Moffatt</span> at the opening of the First Act +was as good as anything in the play. But happily this is not one of +those imported creations that overwhelm my uninstructed intelligence +with exotic colour and exotic slang.</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Edmund Gwenn</span>, as <i>Max Rosenbaum</i>, impresario, was in irresistible +form. Miss <span class="smcap">Marie Löhr</span>, in the part of the leading lady, was at +her lightest and therefore her best; but Lady <span class="smcap">Tree</span> (her designing +mother), though she played very hard and incisively, could scarcely +have satisfied her own very nice sense of humour with what was to be +got out of a character that resembled nothing on earth (or the Eastern +hemisphere anyhow).</p> + +<p>In the midst of all the mirth there was a pathetic passage between a +couple of impecunious players, <i>Johnny Brinkley</i> (played by Mr. <span class="smcap">George +Elton</span>, who had many good things to say and said them well) and +<i>Effie</i>, his wife, on the theme of the precariousness of their career. +It must have melted the cynical heart of many a critic in the +audience, and I for one was almost persuaded to confine myself for the +future to encomium in these columns.</p> + +<p>However, there is no flattery in the compliments I beg to offer to Mr. +<span class="smcap">James Forbes</span> for a very diverting evening. Perhaps the last Act +dragged a little, but in any case after the orgy he had given us we +were ripe for reaction. With most imported plays one is apt to doubt +whether the humour is novel in its essence or merely a matter of +unfamiliar form, common enough in its place of origin. But the humour +of Mr. <span class="smcap">Forbes</span>, or at least the best of it, is something more than +American.</p> + +<p class="author">O. S.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"She heard him blowing his nose on the hall mat, and she understood +the major sufficiently to know that this portended +something."—<i>Home Chat.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>We have always regarded this behaviour as ominous, even in the case of +civilians.</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"Once you have a wife and are tied down to the world, she creates the +necessity of a house and saves you from being a wanderer on the face +of the earth. No wife, no house. Hence, say our Shastras, it is not +the building called the house that is the wife, it is the wife who is +the house. And even now, both among the high and the low, it is usual +for a Hindu to speak of his wife as his house."</p> +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">N. G. Chandavarkarin</span> "<i>The Times of India.</i>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>We foresee domestic trouble when the Flat system reaches India.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>AN ECCENTRIC.</h2> + +<p>Having alighted on strange ground at Chiswick Park Station, I was +lost. My destination was <span class="smcap">Hogarth's</span> House—one of the few homes of +the illustrious which are preserved for pious pilgrims, but whether to +go this way or that I had no notion, nor was there anyone to ask. I +therefore turned to the left and, just after being half-blinded by a +dusty whirlwind, stopped an errand-boy and was told by him I had done +right, and had but to keep on.</p> + +<p>I therefore continued, but with so little confidence that a hundred +yards further on I stopped another wayfarer, who, however, had no +knowledge of any Hogarth but a local laundry of that name, and could +not say where it was.</p> + +<p>It was then that I fell into the arms of as admirable although +peculiar a man as I ever hope to meet, and communicative too. He was +one of those elderly men who keep their youth, largely by virtue of +cheerful spirits. He was short and active and he wore a cap. He had +sandy-grey hair and a touch of sandy-grey whisker; his eye was bright +and his cheeks were ruddy. He beamed with contentment. He may not have +been, as the diverting Mr. <span class="smcap">Berry</span> says in <i>Tina</i>, "fearfully crisp," +but he was crisp enough.</p> + +<p>Did he know Chiswick? Why, he had known it for nearly sixty years. +Then he knew <span class="smcap">Hogarth's</span> House? No, he couldn't say he did, but, anyhow, +it must be in the other direction, because this, strictly speaking, +was Acton Green and not Chiswick at all. To get to Chiswick I ought to +have gone the other way. "But a depraved errand-boy——" I +began to say, and then realising that the recapitulation of other +people's errors is perhaps the idlest form of speech, where nearly all +lack necessity, I said instead that the natives did not seem to +specialise much in knowledge of their locality; to which he replied +that they ought to, for there was no more beautiful place in the +world.</p> + +<p>"I'm going in the direction you want, myself," he added. "The fact is +we're moving, and I've got to get some new blinds, and the shop's on +your way."</p> + +<p>So we fell into step, I with great difficulty keeping up with his +happy buoyancy.</p> + +<p>Yes, he admitted, moving was a trial, but his new house was far more +comfortable than the old one, and, after all, what's a little trouble?</p> + +<p>This was a revolutionary enough remark, but when he went on to ask, Wasn't it a lovely +spring morning? I felt shamed completely, for I was still angry with the gusts under the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="page287" id="page287"></a>[pg 287]</span> +scudding sky. And it had been a lovely night, too, he added. Not a +cloud all night. And a moon! such a moon! He never remembered a +lovelier night. How did he know so much about the night? Why, he was a +night watchman. In the General Omnibus Company. Had been for years. +When then did he sleep? Oh, he would soon be in bed, but he liked a +walk in the morning. Especially such a morning as this. In two hours' +time he'd be fast asleep. Oh no, he didn't mind being on duty at +night, and then, being in the General, he could have rides for +nothing, and only the other day he'd been to Bushy Park to see the +fallen trees. My, what a grand sight! He'd never seen so many fine +trees on their sides. Wonderful it was.</p> + +<p>Didn't Chiswick look grand in the Spring? he asked me. Such lovely +blossom in the gardens. Chiswick had once been famous for its fruit +orchards, and many trees still remained. Didn't I think it pretty?</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact it was looking to me exactly like other suburbs; +but I hadn't the heart to dash so enthusiastic and friendly a +creature; so I said I thought Chiswick charming.</p> + +<p>And healthy, he went on: there wasn't a healthier place +anywhere—all sand. Wherever you dug you'd find sand.</p> + +<p>I had a sudden vision of myself, spade in hand, testing this +statement; but he allowed no time for such diversions of thought. The +goodness of Chiswick and the importance of praising it were too urgent +with him.</p> + +<p>After passing the station we came to a block of peculiarly hideous +flats on the right. There, he said, pointing to them, wasn't that +convenient? What could a clerk want better than that? For himself he +couldn't ask a better fate than to live at Chiswick. Such a fine High +Street, and the biggest music-hall in the suburbs. The picture palaces +too. But he was sorry to say that some Chiswick people had taken to +going to a new one at Hammersmith. That was a pity, he thought. Had I +ever seen such a nice Green?</p> + +<p>By this time I was becoming stunned. I pinched myself to discover +whether or not I dreamed. A Londoner, or Greater Londoner, pleased +with his home; an Englishman of any description satisfied with +anything English, and especially just now, when the rule is to cry +stinking fish! What could be the matter?</p> + +<p>I would try him, I thought, in his most sensitive spot, his pocket; +and the opportunity came naturally enough for we were passing the +shops in the High Street and he began to extol their merits.</p> + +<p>"But isn't everything horribly dear nowadays?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied, gaily "it is; but I can remember when it was +dearer."</p> + +<p>What is one to do with a man like that? Had we not now come to my +turning, Duke's Avenue, where he bade me good-bye, I might have +discovered that he did not think Lord <span class="smcap">Kitchener</span> an imbecile, Mr. <span +class="smcap">Balfour</span> a mere salary-hunter, and Mr. <span class="smcap">Asquith</span> a traitor. +To such an oddly constructed mind even those things were possible.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"> +<a href="images/322.png"><img width="100%" src="images/322.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>Tommy (to Jock, on leave).</i> "<span class="smcap">What about the lingo? Suppose you want an egg over there, what do you say?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Jock.</i> "<span class="smcap">Ye juist say, 'Oof'.</span>"</p> +<p><i>Tommy.</i> "<span class="smcap">But suppose you want two?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Jock.</i> "<span class="smcap">Ye say 'Twa Oofs,' and the silly auld fule wife gies ye three, and ye juist gie her back one. +Man, it's an awfu' easy language.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="page288" id="page288"></a>[pg 288]</span></p> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<h3>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</h3> + +<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Belloc</span> can, I am sure, write entertainingly about any phase of the +French Revolution on his head, and in <i>The Last Days of the French +Monarchy</i> (<span class="smcap">Chapman and Hall</span>) he has apparently done so. I cannot think +it will add to his reputation. It will be something if it doesn't hurt +it. He has taken a short story, and by a process of dextrous padding +and the practice of a method, which is becoming an obsession with him, +of going deep into the obvious with much industry and circumstance, he +has contrived, with the addition of a number of plates—some of +singular irrelevance—a fattish book. Even ignorant persons like +this Learned Clerk are apt to be chagrined by being so obviously +written down to. On the other hand, naturally, an author who knows his +intriguing subject so well and drives so forceful a pen cannot fail to +be interesting. The historian seems most concerned to prove, by his +familiar and plausible method of going over the ground "in the same +season, in the same weather, after the same rains, in the same mist," +that the Prussian charge by Valmy Mill miscarried only because the +infantry got bogged in marsh that looked like stubble. So now we know!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>From the list of books already published by Mr. <span class="smcap">Cecil Headlam</span> it is +easy to see that he is by choice a topographer rather than a novelist. +Indeed the fact is made sufficiently obvious to the reader of <i>Red +Screes</i> (<span class="smcap">Smith, Elder</span>). Its sub-title is <i>A Romance of Lakeland</i>, and +so strongly developed is the place-spirit in its author that he is +constantly breaking the rather tenuous thread of his story to +introduce long descriptions of Cumberland scenery and people, and as +this is most easily done by sending his chief characters for walks in +the districts that Mr. <span class="smcap">Headlam</span> wishes to talk about the result is that +I seldom read a novel in which the protagonists were kept so sternly +on the move. But I am far from saying that the result is not happy +enough, especially for those readers who already know and love the +neighbourhood that the author handles so well. As for the tale, that, +as I have hinted, is nothing to keep you awake o' nights. There is a +millionaire in it, with one daughter (whom he hates) and a very +unpleasant secretary, who loves the daughter for her prospects and a +country lass for her looks; and there is a great deal of the most +unconvincing finance that ever I read, even in fiction. As for the +secretary's end, it wouldn't be fair to give that away, as it is +really the only point at which the plot quickens into sufficient +vigour to hold its own with the setting. Mr. <span class="smcap">Headlam</span> obviously both +knows and loves the land of red screes; I am doubtful whether he is as +much at home with the stock-manipulators of Wall Street or their +emotional offspring. And I don't like his introduction of the second +heroine—"The girl's head was bare, save for the crowning glory +of womanhood." What I mean is, if it hadn't had that much +covering——</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>The King's Men</i> (<span class="smcap">Secker</span>) are just our friends, yours and mine and Mr. +<span class="smcap">John Palmer's</span>, who have exchanged their tools and toys, their pens, +wigs, brushes, books, spats and dreams for stars (one, two or three) +and scars; all drawn into the Great Adventure which began on that 4th +of August so many long years ago. Dilettante <i>Pelham</i>, prig and +pacificist not from passion but from detachment, always so unbeatable +in argument and always so wrong; sportsman <i>Rivers</i>, seeing simply and +straight; crank <i>Smith</i>; comfortable <i>Baddeley</i> in his snug Government +berth; poser <i>Ponsonby</i>, always doing the thing that's the thing to +do; exquisite <i>Graham</i>, with his fair lodge in the +wilderness—all hallowed by the great consecration. There are, +too, the King's women and an unhappy necessary stay-at-home or two, +and a big and rather crude contractor, who will be master in his own +works. But the young men are the folk Mr. <span class="smcap">Palmer</span> best understands and +presents in turns of clever and vehement talk. I beg you to read this +book for these good things and for a tender love of England which +shines nobly between the lines of it.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Perhaps <i>Fauvette</i>, the heroine of <i>The Green Orchard</i> (<span class="smcap">Cassell</span>), was +too modern to have much acquaintance with the works of the late <span +class="smcap">William Black</span>. Which was a pity, as a recollection of <i>A +Daughter of Heth</i> might have withheld her from her impulsive marriage +with <i>Martin Wilderspin</i>, or from feeling so much like a gold-fish out +of water when he took her away from Paris to share a life that was a +dreary contrast to all her previous experience. In any case I cannot +hold her blameless for the resulting shipwreck. A bride who comes down +late for a most critical little dinner to her husband's family, and +attires herself (see cover) like a circus-rider, simply is not giving +matrimony a fair chance. Moreover I seem to observe that Mr. <span class="smcap">Andrew +Soutar</span> thinks this was rather sporting in his heroine. He certainly +loads the dice in her favour, for, when the inevitable had happened +and <i>Martin</i> and <i>Fauvette</i> had separated, the lady sought the +consolations of literature and became (as heroines will) the sensation +of the hour. Though <i>The Green Orchard</i> is a brisk easy-running tale +fidelity to life is hardly its strong point. Of course it was not to +be expected that <i>Fauvette</i> would escape being adored by <i>Martin's</i> +best friend; the real touch of originality is the final reward of this +kind gentleman. For my own part I certainly expected—but to tell +you that would be to betray what doesn't happen. The whole affair is a +pleasant respite from actuality: more, I fear, it would be impossible +to say.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:40%;"> +<a href="images/323.png"><img width="100%" src="images/323.png" alt="" /></a> +<p><i>Kind Old Lady.</i> "<span class="smcap">I see there is an urgent appeal for more literature +for our fighting men. I thought some lonely soldier or sailor might +like to revive memories of the dear homeland with this volume of the +Post Office Directory for 1899.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p>From the description of a polar-bear's escapade in the Edinburgh "Zoo":—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The keepers now appeared, and with the assistance of gun-firing +and much noise the animal was quietly shepherded back to +its accustomed place of confinement."</p> +<p class="author"><i>North British Agriculturist.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>"Quietly" was a happy thought.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +CL, April 26, 1916, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH-CHARIVARI, APRIL 26, 1916 *** + +***** This file should be named 30575-h.htm or 30575-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/5/7/30575/ + +Produced by Ritu Aggarwal, Jonathan Ingram and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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