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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:11:25 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:11:25 -0700 |
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diff --git a/38899-h/38899-h.htm b/38899-h/38899-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..95beede --- /dev/null +++ b/38899-h/38899-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2843 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + + <title>Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 150, June 21st, 1916.</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + .ind {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em;} + .ind1 {margin-left: 5em; margin-right: 5em;} + .ind2 {margin-left: 8em; margin-right: 5em;} + .ind3 {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 30%;} + .ind3a {margin-left: 40%;} + .ind4 {margin-left: 50%;} + .outdent {text-align: left; margin-left: -1em;} + .right {text-align: right; margin-right: 2em;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + blockquote {text-align: justify; font-size: 0.9em; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + .block {text-align: justify; font-size: 0.95em; margin-left: 32%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sans {font-family: sans-serif;} + .oes {font-family: "old english text", "script mt bold", serif; font-size: 1.2em; font-weight: normal;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .center1 {text-align: center; font-size: 0.9em;} + .left {float: left; text-align: left; font-size: 0.9em; line-height: 150%;} + .right {float: right; text-align: right; font-size: 0.9em; line-height: 150%;} + table {padding-bottom: 1em; clear: both;} + td.note {text-align: left; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: normal; border: 1px dashed; padding: 1em;} + ul.none {font-size: 1.0em; margin-left: 2em; list-style-type: none;} + li {margin-bottom: 1em;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.medium {width: 76%;} + html>body hr.medium {margin-right: 12%; margin-left: 12%; width: 76%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 30%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 35%; margin-left: 35%; width: 30%;} + ins {text-decoration: none; border-bottom: dashed 1px silver;} + p.note {margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 15%;} + p.author {text-align: right; margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 2em;} + p.author1 {text-align: right; margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 4em;} + p.author1a {text-align: right; margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 8em;} + p.author2 {text-align: right; margin-top: -0.5em; margin-right: 25%; font-size: 0.9em;} + span.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + .poem p.i12 {margin-left: 6em;} + .poem p.i14 {margin-left: 7em;} + .poem p.i16 {margin-left: 8em;} + .poem p.i26 {margin-left: 13em;} + .poem p.i36 {margin-left: 18em;} + + .poem1 {margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem1 .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem1 p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem1 p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem1 p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem1 p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem1 p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + + .poem2 {margin-left: 40%; margin-right: 10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem2 .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem2 p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem2 p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem2 p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem2 p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem2 p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.9em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 150, +June 21st, 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. 150, June 21st, 1916 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: February 19, 2012 [EBook #38899] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Lesley Halamek and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + <hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page401" id="page401"></a>[pg 401]</span> + +<h1>PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>VOL. 150</h2> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h4>JUNE 21, 1916</h4> + + <hr class="full" /> + +<h2 class="sans">CHARIVARIA.</h2> + +<p>An "Iron Scheer" is to be erected +at Cuxhaven in honour of the "victor" +of the Battle of Horn Reef. It is +thought, however, that lead would be +more appropriate than iron for the +occasion. It runs more easily under +fire.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"I want," said Mr. <span class="sc">Roosevelt</span>, at +Oyster Bay, "to tell you newspaper +men that it is useless to come to see +me. I have nothing to say." As however +some of them had come quite a +long way to see him, he might at least +have made a noise like a Bull Moose.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Asked as to the nature of his disability, +an appellant informed +one of the London +Tribunals that he was a +member of the V.T.C. This +studied insult to a fine body +of men was, we are happy +to say, repudiated by the +Tribunal, which advised the +applicant to try to join a +"crack" regiment.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>No civilians being available +for the work, fifty men +of the Royal Scots regiment +laid half-a-mile of water +main at Coggeshall Abbey +in record time. This incident +should finally dispose +of a popular superstition +that among the Scotch +water is only a secondary +consideration.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The Water Board has +spent £70 in renovating +some Chippendale chairs +belonging to the New River Company. +The poor shareholders are quite helpless +in the matter.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>On an acre of ground, a man told the +Farnham Tribunal, he kept 9 sows, +34 pigs and 1 horse, and grew a quarter-of-an-acre +of mangolds and a quarter-of-an-acre +of potatoes. Asked where he +kept himself the man is understood to +have reluctantly named an exclusive +hotel in the West End.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"The extra hour of daylight is turning +every City man into a gardener," +says <i>The Daily Mail</i>. This must be +a source of great concern to our contemporary, +according to which, if we +read aright, the majority of our public +men do their work like gardeners.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"A wave of temperance might come +by sending drunkards to prison for +a second offence," said Mr. <span class="sc">Mead</span> at +the West London Court. This remark +will cause consternation in those select +circles in which a second offence is +usually an indication of a discriminating +dilettantism.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"Mr. Hughes," says <i>The Daily Mail</i>, +"goes to the Paris Conference with the +British ideals in his pocket." Personally, +we have an idea that things of this sort +ought to be left in the Cabinet.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"This war," says <i>The Fishing Gazette</i>, +"is going to provide protection to fish +from the trawlers in all places where +ships sink on trawling-grounds." That, +however, is not the real issue, and we +cannot too strongly deprecate such an +unscrupulous attempt on the part of +our contemporary to draw a red herring +across the trail.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/401-1000.png"><img src="images/401-500.png" width="500" height="389" alt="PUNCTUALITY." /></a> +<h4>PUNCTUALITY.</h4> + +<p><i>Sergeant.</i> "<span class="sc">Fall in agin at 'leven o'clock. An' when I say, +'Fall in at 'leven o'clock,' I mean fall in at 'leven. So +<i>fall in at 'alf-past ten</i>!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>According to a New York cable, +President <span class="sc">Wilson</span> last week headed +a procession in favour of military +preparedness as an ordinary citizen +in a straw hat, blue coat, cream pants, +and carrying an American flag on his +shoulders. The intensely militant note +struck by the cream pants is regarded +as a body blow to the hope of the +pacificists in the party and astonished +even the most chauvinistic of +<span class="sc">President's</span> admirers.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>"For anyone to keep a cow for their +private supply of milk is a luxury, and +there is no necessity for it," said the +Chairman of the Chobham Tribunal, +and, as a result of this ruling, a maiden +lady in the district who has long +cherished the ambition of keeping a +bee for her private supply of honey +has reluctantly decided to abandon the +idea.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Berlin's newest attraction is said to +be a young woman named <span class="sc">Anna von +Bergdorff</span>, who has revealed extraordinary +powers of memory, and whose +chief accomplishment is to "remember +and repeat without error from +twenty-five to fifty disconnected words +after hearing them once." In these +circumstances it would seem to be a +thousand pities that the lady was not +present when the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> received the +news of the famous "victory" of his +Fleet in the Battle of Jutland.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>In St. Louis, U.S.A., the Democratic +National Convention is claiming on +behalf of President <span class="sc">Wilson</span> +that he has "successfully +steered the ship of State +throughout troublous times +without involving the +United States in war." Or, +as the hyphenateds put it +more tersely, "Woodrow +has delivered the goods."</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>In a bird's-nest in a +water-pipe at Sheffield a +workman has discovered a +£20 Bank of England note, +which, we understand, has +since been claimed by various +people in the neighbourhood +who have lately been +troubled by mysterious +thefts of £1 and 10s. Treasury +notes, as well as by a +man who alleges that he +was recently robbed of that +exact sum in silver and +copper coins.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>A traveller who has arrived in Amsterdam +from Berlin states that in that +city placards have been pasted on all +the walls explaining that the <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> +is not responsible for the War. We +hope however that now it has been +brought to his notice it is not unreasonable +on our part to express +the hope that he will promptly decide +to go a step further and declare his +neutrality.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>At an Exhibition of Substitutes now +being held in Berlin a special department +displayed stage decorations, +scenery and costumes made mostly +out of paper instead of wool. As a +counterblast to the alleged German +superiority in matters of this sort, it +is pleasant to be able to record the +fact that in our English theatres it +is no uncommon thing to see an +audience made mostly out of the same +material.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page402" id="page402"></a>[pg 402]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">HEART-TO-HEART TALKS.</h2> + +<p>(<i>Marshal <span class="sc">von Hindenberg</span> and Admiral <span class="sc">von Scheer</span>.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>The Admiral.</i> The beer, at any rate, is good.</p> + +<p><i>The Marshal.</i> Yes, the beer is good enough, Heaven be +thanked! I only wish everything else was as good as the beer.</p> + +<p><i>The Admiral.</i> So then there is grumbling here too. It was +in my mind that I should find everything here in first-rate +order and everybody delighted with the condition of things.</p> + +<p><i>The Marshal.</i> So? Then all I can say is that you expected +too much. You do not seem to realise how things +are going with us. I suppose you had thought the Russians +were absolutely done for after what happened to them last +year. So thought the All-highest, who has a mania for +imagining complete victories and talking about them in +language that makes one ashamed of being a German. +As if——</p> + +<p><i>The Admiral.</i> Yes, that's quite true. I'll tell you a +little story about that later on.</p> + +<p><i>The Marshal.</i> Well, he saw complete victory over the +Russians, and what does he do? He withdraws some of +my best divisions to the Western Front and throws them +into that boiling cauldron at Verdun, where they have all +perished to the last man, and leaves me with my thinned +line to hold out as best I can; and, not content with this, +he permits those accursed Austrians to rush their troops, +if indeed they are worthy to be called by that name, headlong +into Italy on a mad adventure of their own and to +get stuck there far beyond the possibility of help. And +then what happens? The moment arrives when the new +and immense Russian armies are trained, and when they +have rifles and cannons and ammunition in plenty, and one +fine day they wake up and hurl themselves against the +Austrians, and helter-skelter away go the whole set of +Archdukes and Generals and Colonels and men, each trying +to see who has the longest legs and can use them quickest +for escaping. And I'm expected to bring up my fellows, +who have quite enough to do where they are, and to +sacrifice them in helping this rabble. "<span class="sc">Hindenburg</span>," said +the All-highest to me, "be up and doing. Show yourself +worthy of your ancient glory and earn more golden nails +for your wooden statue." "Majesty," I replied, "if you +will leave me my fighting men, you can keep all the golden +nails that were ever made." But at this he frowned, +suspecting a joke: I have often noticed that he does not +like jokes.</p> + +<p><i>The Admiral.</i> Yes, I have noticed that myself, and I +always do my best to take him quite seriously. But I was +going to tell you a little story about our speechmaking hero. +Here it is. As you know, he ordered us out to fight the +naval battle off Jutland.</p> + +<p><i>The Marshal.</i> Yes, I know—the great victory.</p> + +<p><i>The Admiral.</i> Hum-hum.</p> + +<p><i>The Marshal.</i> Well, wasn't it?</p> + +<p><i>The Admiral.</i> Ye-e-s, that is to say, not exactly what one +understands by great and not precisely what is meant by +victory. However, we can discuss that another time. +What I wanted to tell you was this. The speech our +friend and <span class="sc">Kaiser</span> made——</p> + +<p><i>The Marshal.</i> It was a highly coloured piece of fireworks.</p> + +<p><i>The Admiral.</i> Well, it was all prepared and written down +days before the fight was fought. I heard this from a sure +source, from someone, in fact, who had seen the manuscript +and had afterwards caught sight of the Imperial one rehearsing +it before a looking-glass. Whatever might have +happened, the speech would have been the same, even if we +had returned into harbour with only one ship—and there +was a time when I thought we should hardly be able to do +even that.</p> + +<p><i>The Marshal.</i> I wonder what would have happened to +him if he had not been able to deliver the speech at all.</p> + +<p><i>The Admiral.</i> He would have burst himself.</p> + +<p><i>The Marshal.</i> Yes, that is what would have happened to +him.</p> + +<p><i>The Admiral.</i> Well, anyhow, the beer is good here.</p> + +<p><i>The Marshal.</i> Oh, yes, the beer is all right.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">THE ONLY WAY.</h2> + +<p>Judkins was the last man in the world one would have +expected to meet in the fashionable costume of the day. +To begin with, he was well over age. And then he was on +the quiet side, usually looking for some odd, old thought +which had gone astray, and possessed of one of those +travelling mentalities which take note of all sides of a subject. +Yet there he stood in khaki.</p> + +<p>"The very last man in the world I expected to see like +this," I said. It was quite true. Judkins was the sort +who would have attempted dreamy analyses with the drill-instructor.</p> + +<p>"Don't blame me, old thing," he said with a shade of +melancholy. "I know I am stiff and over age and all that, +but the recruiting fellow said he would willingly overlook +a decade. There was nothing else for it. It was the only +way."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean, 'the only way'?" I asked.</p> + +<p>Judkins sighed.</p> + +<p>"It was like this," he explained sadly. "I should have +joined up before, but I have always tried to keep to the +truth ever since I was seven and told a lie, and felt that +I was lost. But I gave in at last. If Lord <span class="sc">Derby</span> +looks at my papers he will think I am forty. So I am, +and a bit more. I meant to deceive his lordship, though +it went against the grain. I am sure I don't know what +Mr. <span class="sc">Walter Long</span> will say if he ever finds out what I have +done. I can picture him exclaiming, 'Here's this man, +Private Judkins, declaring he is only forty, when to my +certain knowledge he was born in '66.'</p> + +<p>"I am risking all that because life became insupportable. +There was hardly anybody left I cared about. The one +waiter at my favourite restaurant who didn't breathe down +one's neck when he was holding the vegetables—he had +joined; and the person who understood cigars at the corner +shop, he is in it too. The new man doesn't know the difference +between a Murias and a Manilla. It was the same +all round. There was nobody to cut my hair. My barber +was forming fours. It is a wonder to me why the War +people have had to hunt the slippers, the chaps who have +held back, for there is very little to tempt one to keep out +of the crowd now. I've joined so as to be with the fellows +I know. Don't go and put it all down to patriotism; it +was just sheer loneliness. The man who sold me my evening +paper—you remember him? he had a squint and used +to invest in Spanish lotteries and get me to translate the +letters he received—he is a soldier now; and so is the +bootblack who asked for tips for the races, and the door-keeper +at the offices. They're all wearing khaki, all in; and +it wasn't the same world without them, only a dreary +make-believe, and so I decided to deceive the War Office +and join my friends. Every day I am finding the folk I'd +lost. The Corporal with whom I do most business was +checktaker at a theatre I used to frequent—always told +me whether the show was worth the money before I parted. +And the life is suiting me fairly well. Last week's route-march +in the rain was a far, far wetter thing than I had +ever done, but——"</p> + +<p>He turned and gravely saluted an officer who was +coming up on the wind....</p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page403" id="page403"></a>[pg 403]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/403-1500.png"><img src="images/403-500.png" width="500" height="664" alt="THE TABLES TURNED." /></a> +<h2>THE TABLES TURNED.</h2></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page404" id="page404"></a>[pg 404]</span> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/404-1000.png"><img src="images/404-600.png" width="600" height="510" alt="NEWS FOR THE ENEMY." /></a> +<h4>NEWS FOR THE ENEMY.</h4> + +<p><i>Mrs. Brown.</i> "<span class="sc">Have you heard as how our Jim has got his +stripe?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Smith.</i> "<span class="sc">Hush, woman! Don't you see that notice?</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">THE WATCH DOGS.</h2> + +<h4>XLII.</h4> + +<p><span class="sc">My dear Charles,</span>—No "Tourists' +Guide to Northern France" would be +complete without some mention of the +picturesque town of A., a point at +which even the most progressive traveller +is likely to say that he's had a +very pleasant journey so far, but now +thinks of turning back. It boasts a +small but exceedingly well-ventilated +cathedral, many an eligible residence to +let, and the relics of what was once a +busy factory, on the few remaining bricks +of which you are particularly requested +to "afficher" no "affiches." It is approached +by a railway, prettily overgrown +with tall grasses and +wild-flowers, and never +made hideous these days by +the presence of hustling, +smoky trains. Entering +daintily from the back, the +tourist will soon find himself +in its main street, devoid +of ladies out shopping, but +not without its curious collection +of exuberant drain-pipes +and recumbent lamp-posts. +It lies, pleasantly +dishevelled, in the sun, +having the appearance of +the bed of a restless sleeper +who has shifted about somewhat +in the night and made +many abortive efforts to +get up in the morning. Its +streets are decorated with a +series of dew ponds, dotted +about with no apparent regard +to the convenience +of the traffic, and you may +while away many an idle +hour trying to discover +where the street ends and +the houses begin. You will not be interrupted +if you detach, for your collection +of curios, a yard or so of the +dislodged statue of the leading municipal +genius, and even the old man at +the barrier of the eastern gate will only +attempt to deter you by friendly advice +if you persist in ignoring the notice, +"This Road is Unfit for Vehicular Traffic." +I am told that discipline is +automatic at this point; it requires no +browbeating military policemen to control +the traffic here.</p> + +<p>The town of A. has given up work. +It has also given up trying to look +smart. It still spreads itself over +many acres and it has a population of +twenty-five, not including the Town +Major.</p> + +<p>Town Majors, of the more permanent +sort, are a race apart. Being older +men, who have done their turn in the +trenches and are now marked down for +the less actively quarrelsome life, they +nevertheless prefer to live in this sort +of place. When a man gets to their +age he has apparently grown too fond +of his old friends, the shells, to be +parted from them altogether till he absolutely +must; also he likes a row of +houses to himself to live in. A street +cannot be so quickly demolished as to +give him no time to select another one, +and business can always be carried on +at the one end while structural alterations +are taking place at the other. +This fluctuation of town property is a +thing to be reckoned with in his life; and +so on his office wall you will find a list +of billets occupied by units, and where +you see a blue mark you'll know the +unit has gone, and where you see a red +mark, you'll know the billet has.</p> + +<p>The Town Major of A. is a great +friend of mine; fortunately we are able +to reserve our differences of opinion for +the telephone, and even so neither can +ever be sure whether the other lost his +temper or the "cutting off" was done +elsewhere. When we meet I find him +the victim of so many other troubles +that I always spare him more. He +is one of those little old Majors, more +like walnuts than anything else—the +hardest, most wrinkled but best filled +walnuts. He acts as the medium +between the relentless routine of a +high administrative office and the +complex wants of the local warrior. I +don't think he has ever yet decided +whether his true sympathies lie with +the machine or with the men. Once I +was in his office when a weather-beaten +young Subaltern arrived, requiring fuel +for his R.E. Company. He knew of +the whereabouts of just the very thing. +True, it was a standing door at the +moment, but no doubt that condition +was only temporary. It led from a +room, which was half demolished, into +a passage which had ceased to exist. But +the Town Major did not concern himself +with this. An order was an order, and +a door was a door, and the order decreeing +that doors should remain, the +Subaltern had better get quick. He tried +arguing, but you don't crack a walnut +that way. He tried pleading, and the +walnut creaked a little, yet remained +whole. "Understand," said he, very +authoritatively, "not only do I forbid +you to enter that house for the purpose +you propose, but I have +stationed at the front entrance +a picket to prevent +you. If you so much as set +foot on the front doorstep +he will arrest you and bring +you here. I shall know +how to deal with you, Sir." +The Subaltern, who had no +doubt suffered much, turned +away with a weary sigh; +the Town Major ignored his +salute, but, before his complete +withdrawal, did happen +to mention (so to speak) +that he'd been told there +was a <i>back</i> entrance to +the house in question and +he had some idea of putting +another picket there +to-morrow.</p> + +<p>The Subaltern heard all +right, and, from the further +and additional salute he +now gave, it appeared that +he knew how to deal with +that. The Town Major +looked at me, faintly representing +for the moment the machine, +and, blushing dismally, bribed me into +silence with a cigarette. Yet here I am +telling you all about it! Never mind; +the house and all its entrances and exits +have long since disappeared, and as to +the Subaltern himself—who knows?</p> + +<p>On Saturday, June 3rd (that black +Saturday which was not quite so black +as it was painted) he received an urgent +call, as if he was a doctor, to attend the +oldest and least movable inhabitant in +the acuteness of her distress. Town +Majors are good for anything; though +I suppose I oughtn't to mention it, I +knew of one who assisted single-handed +at a birth, mother and son both doing +well notwithstanding interim bombardment. +They are at anybody's disposal +for any purpose; it is merely a question +of first come first served. He went to +the old lady's house; he found her in +a paroxysm of tears over the news of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page405" id="page405"></a>[pg 405]</span> +the Naval disaster. For an hour he +tried to comfort her, being limited to +the methods of personal magnetism, in +the absence of his interpreter and the +scarcity of his French. She refused to +take comfort; it was not sorrow for +the gallant dead, but terror of the +atrocious living which moved her. She +was mortally afraid, she to whom +salvoes of big guns were now matters +of passing inconvenience. The English +Navy had taken a knock; the War was +therefore over and we had lost. There +was no hope for any of us, and any +moment the Bosch might be expected +on her threshold, arriving presumably +from the rear. The magnificence of +the Army of France had been in vain; +it was no use going on at Verdun. She +was still weeping spasmodically when +the better news arrived.</p> + +<p>Now, Charles, if that is how a French +peasant took the first news, how do you +suppose the German peasants are digesting +the second and better version?</p> + +<p class="author1">Yours ever,</p> +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Henry</span>.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/405-1500.png"><img src="images/405-600.png" width="600" height="398" alt="Shivering Tommy (to red-headed pal). 'Urry up, Ginger, and dip yer 'ead under. It'll warm the water!'" /></a> +<p><i>Shivering Tommy (to red-headed pal).</i> "<span class="sc">'Urry up, +Ginger, and dip yer 'ead under. It'll warm the water!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Athens, Monday.—I learn in a well-informed +quarter that the Allies are expected +to communicate to the Greek Government +almost immediately a further Note relative to +the restrictions imposed on Greek sipping." +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author2"><i>Provincial Paper.</i></p> + +<p class="ind2">At present, we understand, Greek sippers +are strictly confined to Port.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>THE NEWEST HOPE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Dear Betty, in the good old days,</p> +<p class="i2">Before this Armageddon stunt,</p> +<p>We floated down still water-ways</p> +<p class="i2">Ensconced within a cushioned punt;</p> +<p>With mingled terror and delight</p> +<p class="i2">I felt the toils around me closing,</p> +<p>Until one starry moonlit night,</p> +<p>Discreetly veiled from vulgar sight,</p> +<p class="i6">I found myself proposing.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>You heard my ravings with a smile,</p> +<p class="i2">And then confessed you liked my cheek,</p> +<p>But thought my nose denoted guile</p> +<p class="i2">And feared my chin was rather weak;</p> +<p>My character with fiendish glee</p> +<p class="i2">You treated to a grim dissection,</p> +<p>Then as a final <i>jeu d'esprit</i></p> +<p>You cynically offered me</p> +<p class="i6">A sisterly affection.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But now within my faithful heart</p> +<p class="i2">New hope has sprung to sudden life;</p> +<p>In fancy (somewhat <i>à la carte</i>)</p> +<p class="i2">I see you more or less my wife;</p> +<p>The way is found, the path is clear,</p> +<p class="i2">The resolution moved and carried—</p> +<p>If you have pluck enough, my dear,</p> +<p>To risk a rather new career ...</p> +<p class="i6">We might be <i>slightly</i> married.*</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="note">* In his book, <i>What is Coming</i>, Mr. <span class="sc">H. G. +Wells</span> sees "a vision of the slightly-married woman."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>In a Good Cause.</h3> + +<p>The Veterans' Club, for which the +<span class="sc">Lord Mayor</span> is to hold a meeting at the +Mansion House on Thursday, June 22nd, +at 3.30, is the nucleus of a movement to +offer the chance of rest and convalescence +to those who have fought and suffered +in defence of their country; to secure +suitable employment for those whose +service is finished, and friendly help +in the hour of need. The Club at +Hand Court, Holborn, has already welcomed +seven thousand men of the Navy +and Army to its membership. A great +effort is needed to enlarge this scheme +for providing a centre of reunion and +succour for our fighting men from +all parts of the United Kingdom and +its Dominions—a scheme which, if +generously supported, should serve as +an Imperial Memorial of the nation's +sacrifice.</p> + +<p>Gifts and inquiries should be addressed +to the Organising Secretary, +Veterans' Club Association, 1, Adelphi +Terrace House, Adelphi, W.C.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Mr. Balfour ... revealed that a number +of the guns on monitors came from America +and stated that certain of Churchill's speeches +are so faulty that they are unuseable." +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author2"><i>Montreal Gazette.</i></p> + +<p class="ind1">Mr. <span class="sc">Balfour</span> may have thought this, +but we don't remember his saying it.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page406" id="page406"></a>[pg 406]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2><i>LYRA DOMESTICA.</i></h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Mr. Punch,</span>—I cordially welcome +your efforts to extend the horizon +of Nursery Rhymes. At the same time +it has always seemed to me rather unfair +that one room in the house, though +I readily acknowledge its importance, +should practically monopolise the attention +of our domestic poets. If +Nursery Rhymes, why not Dining-room, +Drawing-room and Kitchen Rhymes? +I am convinced that they could be +made just as instructive, didactic and +helpful. Hence, to make a beginning, +I venture to submit the following specimens +of prudential and cautionary +Dining-room Rhymes. Should they +meet with approval I propose to deal +with other apartments in the same +spirit, excepting perhaps the Box-room, +which does not seem to me to offer +facilities for lyrical treatment.</p> + +<h4><span class="sc">Preliminary.</span></h4> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">If desirous of succeeding</p> +<p class="i2">In the noble art of feeding</p> +<p>With dignity and breeding of a Jove,</p> +<p class="i2">You will find all information</p> +<p class="i2">For your proper education</p> +<p>In the admirable works of Lady <span class="sc">Grove</span>.</p> + </div> </div> + +<h4><span class="sc">Of Porridge.</span></h4> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Eat your porridge standing</p> +<p class="i2">If you are a Scot;</p> +<p>To be frank it's only rank</p> +<p class="i2">Swank if you are not.</p> + </div> </div> + +<h4><span class="sc">Of the Use of the Knife.</span></h4> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Unless you wish to shorten your life</p> +<p>Don't eat your peas or your cheese with a knife,</p> +<p>Like greedy Jim, who cut his tongue</p> +<p>And died unseasonably young.</p> + </div> </div> + +<h4><span class="sc">Of Disguised Dishes.</span></h4> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Be alert to scrutinize</p> +<p>Food in unfamiliar guise.</p> +<p>Death may lurk within the pot</p> +<p>If you eat the <i>papillote</i>.</p> + </div> </div> + +<h4><span class="sc">Of the Virtues of Silence.</span></h4> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Jack and Tom were two pretty boys;</p> +<p>But Jack ate his soup with a horrible noise,</p> +<p class="i6">While Tom was a silent eater.</p> +<p>Now Jack is a poor insurance tout,</p> +<p>While Tom drives splendidly about</p> +<p class="i6">In a Limousine seven-seater.</p> + </div> </div> + +<h4><span class="sc">Of a Forbidden Word.</span></h4> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>No one mentioned in <i>Debrett</i></p> +<p>Talks about a "serviette."</p> + </div> </div> + +<h4><span class="sc">Of Timely and Untimely Mirth.</span></h4> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Be cheerful at lunch and at dinner,</p> +<p class="i2">Be cheerful at five-o'clock tea;</p> +<p>But only a social beginner</p> +<p class="i2">At breakfast indulges in glee.</p> + </div> </div> + +<h4><span class="sc">Of Punctuality.</span></h4> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Late for breakfast shows your sense,</p> +<p>Late for luncheon no offence;</p> +<p>Late for well-cooked well-served dinner</p> +<p>Proves you fool as well as sinner.</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem2"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>With much respect,</p> +<p class="i2">I am, dear Mr. Punch,</p> +<p class="i4">Yours devotedly,</p> +<p class="i6"><span class="sc">A. Dampier Squibb</span>.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">ARCHIBILL.</h2> + +<p>His name was, so to speak, the fine +flower of Delia's imagination, and of +mine. Mrs. Mutimer-Sympson gave +him to Delia as a war-time birthday-present, +and he was at once acclaimed +as "fascinating," which he may have +been, and "lovely," which he certainly +was not. His usual abiding-place was +the kitchen, in comfortable proximity to +the range, which he shared with one of +his kind or of a lower order; but there +were occasions when he honoured the +dining-room with a visit.</p> + +<p>"Though he mustn't come in when +we've callers," said Delia: this was in +the early days, when his title and +status were as yet nebulous.</p> + +<p>"But why not?" I protested. +"William's all right, so long as he's +reasonably clean."</p> + +<p>Delia raised her eyebrows <i>à la française</i>.</p> + +<p>"William?"</p> + +<p>"William," I repeated firmly. "What +else would you call him?"</p> + +<p>"I should have thought," said Delia +coldly, "that it would have been plain, +even to the meanest intelligence, that +he was Archibald."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," I retorted, "no +sentient being can gaze upon him without +recognizing him as William."</p> + +<p>At this moment the treasure in +question, who had been making contented +little purring noises near the +fire, was apparently startled by a falling +coal, for he raised his voice in a high +note of appeal.</p> + +<p>"Did a nasty man call him out of +his name, then!" said Delia, snatching +him up.</p> + +<p>"If you're not careful," I reminded +her, "William, will ruin your new +blouse."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Delia, with an air +of trying to be reasonable with an +utterly unreasonable person, "there'd +be no objection to his having a <i>second</i> +name."</p> + +<p>"None whatever. 'William Archibald' +goes quite well."</p> + +<p>"'Archibald William' goes better. +And it's going to be that, or just plain +'Archibald.'" Delia added defiantly +that she wasn't going to argue, because +she wanted her tea, and so did he.</p> + +<p>For the next three days we refrained +from argument accordingly, sometimes +calling him one name, sometimes +another. The thing ended, perhaps +inevitably, in a compromise. He became +"Archibill."</p> + +<p>It was curious how the charms of +Archibill grew upon us—how his personality +developed under Delia's care. +She insisted that he recognized her +step, and that the piercingly shrill cry +he gave was for her ear alone. Perhaps +it was so—women have more subtle +powers of perception than men. There +was real pathos in their first parting, +which came when an inconsiderate +grand-aunt in Scotland, knowing +nothing of Archibill's claims, made +Delia promise to pay her a ten-days' +visit.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't mind Missis being +away, old boy," Delia told him, "because +she'll be coming back soon. +And, although Master's going to stay +with his sister, you won't be lonely. +There's a nice kind charlady who'll +look in every day to make sure that you +haven't been stolen by horrid tramps, +and that the silver spoons are safe." +Yet, from what she has told me since, +I know that her spirits were heavy with +foreboding when she left by the 11.23 +from Euston.</p> + +<p>We returned, later than we expected, +together. The nice kind charlady had +done her work for the day, and left, but +a fire burned cheerfully in the dining-room +and the table was laid for tea.</p> + +<p>"And where," demanded Delia, "is +Archibill?"</p> + +<p>Even as she spoke she sped into the +kitchen. A moment later I heard a +cry, and followed.</p> + +<p>"Look!" said Delia.</p> + +<p>He lay near the range, a wrecked and +worn-out shadow of his former self, incapable +of even a sigh. Tenderly she +lifted him.</p> + +<p>"It's just neglect," she said. "Why +did I leave him! Something always +happens when one leaves such treasures +as Archibill."</p> + +<p>"It mayn't be too late to do something," +I said; "I'll run down with +him to Gramshaw's after tea."</p> + +<p>"<i>After</i> tea!" echoed Delia reproachfully. +I went at once.</p> + +<p>A fortnight has passed since then. +Once more Archibill makes cheerful +murmuring noises on the hearth. He +looks, I fancy, older; otherwise there +is little change to record.</p> + +<p>Yesterday morning I received Gramshaw's +bill: "<i>To putting new Bottom +to patent Whistling Kettle, and repairing +Spout</i>—£0 2<i>s.</i> 9<i>d.</i>"</p> + +<p>Delia says it's worth twenty two-and-ninepences +to listen to Archibill +calling her when he boils.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page407" id="page407"></a>[pg 407]</span> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/407-1500.png"><img src="images/407-600.png" width="600" height="415" alt="THE FAR-REACHING EFFECT OF THE RUSSIAN PUSH." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">THE FAR-REACHING EFFECT OF THE RUSSIAN PUSH.</h3></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">CONSOLATIONS.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Mr. Punch,</span>—In order to guard +against the snares of a too facile optimism +I have made a point ever since +the War began of taking all my information +solely from German sources, as +I have a feeling somehow that they +may be confidently relied upon not to +err upon the side of underrating their +own success. But, having started with +this handicap, I consider that I am the +more justified in looking upon the bright +side of things whenever possible. I +am writing to you to-day to point out +a very important aspect of the many +recent German victories which seems +to have been overlooked. It is full of +promise of an early termination of the +War.</p> + +<p>I wish to analyse the ingredients of +the German Celebration Days, which +have followed each other with such +bewildering rapidity of late. As far as +I can gather, the whole nation has +turned out to celebrate the fall of +Verdun (in the first week of March), +which was the key to Paris; the advance +in the Trentino, which was the +key to Rome; and the destruction of +the British Fleet, which was the key +to London, along with the going out of +the electric spark of the British nimbus +and all that. Meanwhile certain cities +and districts—the thing seems to move +round from one to another—have celebrated +in force the various times that +the Mort Homme was captured (while +it was still held by the French), the +great diplomatic victory over America, +the success of the last War Loan and +countless other triumphs. The thing +has been going on ever since the sinking +of the <i>Tiger</i> eighteen months ago.</p> + +<p>Now, Sir, there are five main ingredients +in these celebrations—flags, the +ringing of bells, the distribution of iron +crosses, fireworks, and school holidays. +The efficient organisation of civilian +<i>morale</i> demands them all. Let us look +into these.</p> + +<p>First, let us take the widest view and +look forward to the contest for supremacy +that will follow the War. What +is it that we have to fear? Why, +German education. They have often +told us so. Yet the very magnitude of +their present successes is robbing their +chief weapon of its edge. It is not too +much to say that, should the summer +campaign follow the lines expected of +it, bringing victory on every front, +education will come to a standstill +owing to the rapid succession of school +holidays. Already parents are complaining +that their children think it +hardly worth while to turn up at school +until they have had a look at the paper +to see if there is anything much going +on, and patriotic truants are always +able to point to the capture of a battery +or the sinking of a ship as justification +for taking the day off. Should the +War be prolonged we have to face the +fact that we may have to do with a +Germany in which the rising generation +can neither read nor write.</p> + +<p>But in a far more immediate sense +the great number of German victories +is sapping the very sources of German +power. I ask you, first of all, what are +these flags made of? They are made +of <i>cotton</i>; and more than that, they are +rapidly wearing out. Much flapping in +all weathers—victories have too often +been allowed to occur in bad weather—has +torn them to ribbons. The situation +is serious: reserves are exhausted, +and an attempt to introduce flag-cards +has met with no support.</p> + +<p>Then let us consider fireworks. Is +it not clear that the supply cannot be +maintained without a steady munitionment +of high explosives, more especially +in the case of rockets?</p> + +<p>I need not labour the fact, which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page408" id="page408"></a>[pg 408]</span> +is sufficiently ominous, that iron crosses +are made of iron, but I may point out +that this expenditure cannot be made +good by drawing upon the belfries, as +the necessity for periodical bell-ringing +has immobilized the bells.</p> + +<p>These facts should be more widely +known. They have given me much +comfort. Even the deplorable loss of +the <i>Warspite</i>—the vast, latest hyper-super-Dreadnought +of the Fleet and the +pillar and the key, as I learn from my +authorities—cannot wholly depress me. +For well I know the dilemma that confronts +our enemies, and that neither by +victory nor defeat can they escape their +doom.</p> + +<p class="author1a">I am, dear Mr. Punch,</p> + +<p class="author">Yours as usual, <span class="sc">Statistician</span>.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/408-1500.png"><img src="images/408-600.png" width="600" height="415" alt="Tommy. 'Rats, Mum? I should say there was—and whopers!!" /></a> +<p><i>Tommy.</i> "<span class="sc">Rats, Mum? I should say there was—and +whoppers! Why, lor' bless yer, only the day afore I got +knocked out I caught one of 'em trying on my great-coat!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h4>Saving their Bacon.</h4> + +<p class="center">"<span class="sc">The German Destroyers Retire to +Pork.</span>"</p> + +<p class="ind4"><i>Provincial Paper.</i></p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">St. Augustine's Sale of Work.</span>—This +important annual event takes place in the +Rectory grounds on June 14th, and everything +indicates a successful day, if Father +Neptune only smiles on the efforts now being +put forward."—<i>Penarth Times.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="ind2">We hope Uncle Phœbus will not be +jealous.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>A CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTOR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>'Tis sad to read of these young lives</p> +<p class="i2">Poured out to please a tyrant's whim;</p> +<p>My manly soul within me strives</p> +<p class="i2">To burst its bonds and have at him.</p> +<p>But peace, my soul! we must be strong,</p> +<p>For conscience whispers, "War is wrong."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Poor lads! Poor lads! Their duty calls;</p> +<p class="i2"><i>Their</i> duty calls—no more they know;</p> +<p>No fear of death their faith appals;</p> +<p class="i2">All the clear summons hear, and go.</p> +<p>'Tis right, of course, they should; but I—</p> +<p>I serve a duty still more high.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And yet not all. Some few, I fear,</p> +<p class="i2">In this their country's hour of need</p> +<p>Keep undemonstratively clear,</p> +<p class="i2">Or, if they're called, exemption plead.</p> +<p>For these—no conscience-clause have they—</p> +<p>Conscription is the thing, I say.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But worse than these, who simply shirk,</p> +<p class="i2">Are those employed to fashion arms,</p> +<p>Who tempt their fellows not to work,</p> +<p class="i2">And give us all such grave alarms—</p> +<p>Traitors! If their deserts they got</p> +<p>They would be either hanged or shot.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The wind blows shrewdly here to-night,</p> +<p class="i2">My heart bleeds, as I think, perchance,</p> +<p>How numbed with cold our heroes fight;</p> +<p class="i2">How chill those trenches, there in France.</p> +<p>The thought unmans me. Ere I weep,</p> +<p>I'll drink my gruel—and to sleep.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind3">An officer in Egypt writes:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Cairo is a gay city, at least so they say. +The chief hotels put up boards showing the +amusements to be enjoyed. A sample of an +eventful week follows:—</p></blockquote> + +<h4>'<span class="sc">Coming Events.</span></h4> + +<div class="block"> +<span class="sc">Monday.</span><br /> +<span class="sc">Tuesday.</span><br /> +<span class="sc">Wednesday.</span><br /> +<span class="sc">Thursday.</span><br /> +<span class="sc">Friday.</span> Museum will not open.<br /> +<span class="sc">Saturday.</span><br /> +<span class="sc">Sunday.</span> +</div> + +<p class="ind3a">——, <i>Manager</i>, —— <i>Hotel</i>.'"</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<blockquote><p> +"A very interesting cricket-match took +place at Ghain Tuffieha on Wednesday last, +24th inst., when eleven Nursing Sisters played +eleven officers. The game throughout was +very keen and the Sisters have nothing to +learn from the Officers in the way of wicket-keeping, +batting and yielding."</p> +</blockquote> +<p class="author2"><i>Daily Malta Chronicle.</i></p> + +<p class="ind2">In the last-mentioned art British soldiers +notoriously do not excel.</p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page409" id="page409"></a>[pg 409]</span> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/409-1500.png"><img src="images/409-500.png" width="500" height="691" alt="THE SHADOW ON THE WALL." /></a> +<h2>THE SHADOW ON THE WALL.</h2></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page410" id="page410"></a>[pg 410]</span> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/410-1500.png"><img src="images/410-600.png" width="600" height="387" alt="Job's Comforter. 'If they keep on stopping your leave like this you'll never see your new kid till the War's over." /></a> +<p><i>Job's Comforter.</i> "<span class="sc">If they keep on stopping your leave +like this you'll never see your new kid till the War's over.</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Job.</i> "<span class="sc">Oh, yes, I expect I shall. He'll be coming out here in +1934.</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">A SOLUTION.</h2> + +<p>Among the many Government changes +that are imminent it is to be hoped that +the <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> will appoint someone +to an office of the highest importance +for the well-being of the Cabinet +in the public eye. Far too long has +the man-in-the-street been encouraged +in an attitude of scorn for the efforts +of the Twenty-three. It is not suggested +that the new official shall be +added to that mystic number and bring +it up to twice-times-twelve, or four-times-six, +or even three-times-eight. +There is no need for him to have Cabinet +rank, but he must be permitted some +inside knowledge or his labours will +not be fully fruitful. Only by such +labours can the Twenty-three really +expect a fair reputation. As it is, everyone +is more or less suspicious of them, +led by the papers in their self-imposed +sacred task of leaders or leader-writers +of the Opposition; while the music-halls +are of course frankly against +any but a purely Tory Government, as +they have always been, and so whole-heartedly +and superior to detail that +even to this day at one of the leading +variety houses of London a topical +song is being sung and loudly applauded +in which Mr. <span class="sc">Asquith</span> is still taunted +with his inability to come to a decision +about conscription. The fact that the +conscription problem was long since +settled is immaterial to these loud-lunged +patriots. Any stick is good for +such a dog. True there has of late been +rather less venom in certain of the anti-Premier +papers, which now substitute +for their ancient scoldings a bland +omniscience and kindliness in their +reminders of the obvious, but none the +less contrive still to insert the knife +and even to give it a furtive twist.</p> + +<p>The fact then remains that what the +Government need is a friend, a trumpeter, +a fugle-man, a pointer-out of +merits, a signaller of This-way-to-the-virtues, +in short, a Callisthenes. They +should take a lesson from the self-sacrificing +zeal of that other Callisthenes +who serves a certain London +emporium so faithfully, awaking every +morning to a new and rapturous vision +of its excellence, which nothing can +stop the discoverer at once putting +into words for the evening papers. +Such <i>trouvailles</i> must not be kept +for private use; all the world must +know. How it is that editors are so +complacent in printing these rhapsodies, +which, truth to tell, are sometimes +very like each other, no one +knows; but there it is. They see the +light, and everyone rejoices to think +that in a country which has been a +good deal blown upon there is, at any +rate, one perfect thing.</p> + +<p>Why should there be two?</p> + +<p>There could be if the Government +would appoint a Callisthenes of their +own and set the eager pen similarly +to work. Then every day we should be +assured of the extraordinary vigour and +vitality of our rulers. Doubt would +vanish and the nation would blossom +as the rose. For if all editors are so +ready to print the present-day eulogies +of the emporium, how much readier +should they be to print to-morrow's +eulogies of the Empire!</p> + +<p>One can see the new Callisthenes inspiring +confidence and heartening the +public with some such words as these; +for of course the new one should, if possible, +be modelled on the old—it might +even be (daring thought!) the same:—</p> + +<h4><span class="sc">The Personal Touch.</span></h4> +<blockquote> +<p>About all kinds of paid service +there must be a <i>certain</i> monotony; +such service implies something that +one does for other people over and +over again. But though action may +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page411" id="page411"></a>[pg 411]</span> +become, in time, almost automatic, +<i>thought</i> need never lose its volition. +And it is one's thought or attitude of +mind that counts.</p> + +<p>The service at the Firm of <span class="sc">Asquith</span> +& Co., is, I think, so good because +Ministers are encouraged tremendously +to give their work the <i>personal +touch</i>. They are not afraid to give +their individuality full rein, to let it +inform their particular jobs, so that +each one is enlivened thereby.</p> + +<p>If you knew the Cabinet as well as +I do, you would appreciate the fact +that it is remarkable for the number +of distinct personalities among its +members—men of marked character +and distinction, who are known not +only throughout the House, but to a +great many members of the London +Public as well.</p> + +<p>They stand out among their fellow-workers +because their service <i>is distinguished</i>. +It is not necessarily that +their abilities are so especially superior, +excellent though they may be. +<i>It is that all they do is infused with +character.</i> Their voices have <i>timbre</i>; +they don't drawl. Their manners are +good. They carry out the smallest +transaction as though it held infinite +interest for themselves as well as you. +They never for a moment allow their +intelligence to sag. They give to +their least varying work that personal +touch which is so transforming.</p> + +<p>The Firm of <span class="sc">Asquith</span> thoroughly +appreciates their worth, and openly +rejoices in the prestige these <i>star +workers</i> attach to themselves. It +would have every member of the +Staff do likewise—act not merely as +a minister, but as a very definite and +valued personality.</p> + +<p>For that is service as it should be +in a modern Government, as spontaneous +to-day as it was servile yesterday—<i>intelligent, +forceful and gay</i>.</p> + +<p>Example is the greatest factor in +its fine development. The Cabinet +Minister, however young, who can +answer every query with a pretty +deference, put off an Irish Member +with good effect, who in checking +your ill-advised inquisitiveness seems +to welcome you—such a one receives +as much and more, every time, as he +gives. He gets smiles, thanks, even +deference in return, and very often +friendship. His companions notice +that. They see how his buoyancy +never flags, because it is all the while +met with response, stimulated, liked. +And the habit of success is very +catching. <i>Voilà tout!</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author2"><span class="sc">Asquith & Co., Ltd.</span></p> + +<p class="ind2">Had the Cabinet such a watchful +and industrious exponent and commender +as Callisthenes, never wearying, +except possibly on Sunday, its +success would be certain.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/411-1200.png"><img src="images/411-400.png" width="400" height="656" alt="With amateur theatricals at the Front and war-work at home,..." /></a> +<p><span class="sc">With amateur theatricals at the Front and war-work at home, +the exchanged +souvenirs are in startling contrast to those of 1840.</span></p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">Accordions.</span>—Sale or exchange, Busson's +beautiful flutina, 23 white piano keys, 15 +black, portable, light to carry, nice for open +air; large ass wanted."—<i>Exchange and Mart.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="ind2">We are not sure that the last phrase +is quite the right one for attracting a +purchaser.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h4>Our Economical Army.</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +"In one hospital there is a complete tin-smith's +shop running full blast. There empty +biscuit-tins are remade into tin plates, pans +and drinking-cups. Even the soldier is melted +down and used a second time." +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author2"><i>Darling Downs Gazette (Queensland).</i></p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">Farriers.</span>—Wanted, a good doorman; +quiet job, 7 or 8 days a week." +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author2"><i>Daily Chronicle.</i></p> + +<p class="ind2">And all the rest of the time to himself.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page412" id="page412"></a>[pg 412]</span> +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/412-1500.png"><img src="images/412-600.png" width="600" height="361" alt="Visitor. 'We're having a Mothers' Sale of Work on Saturday.'" /></a> +<p><i>Visitor.</i> "<span class="sc">We're having a Mothers' Sale of Work on +Saturday. Will you come and bring your husband?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Wife of Wounded Soldier.</i> "<span class="sc">Thanks so much. We'd love to, but the +doctor was most emphatic in warning my husband +to avoid any form of excitement.</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">CONCERT TICKETS.</h2> + +<p>I'm beginning to think that Petherton +has taken a dislike to me, and it is not +at all pleasant in a more or less country +retreat to be on bad terms with a +neighbour.</p> + +<p>It is especially trying, when one has +made every endeavour to be friendly, +to meet with a chilling response. I'm +sure I have written him some very +genial letters on matters which less +good-tempered individuals than I might +have taken more seriously.</p> + +<p>The Annual Concert in the village, +a great event in local circles, has been +another cause of unnecessary friction +between Petherton and myself.</p> + +<p>As one of the older residents and +knowing most of the people here, I am +usually consulted as to the programme, +sale of tickets and other details of the +concert, and my house is often used +for rehearsing the solos, part songs +and choruses which are rendered by +the local Carusos and Melbas.</p> + +<p>Our passage of arms was over the +tickets. We who are on the Committee +are supplied with so many +tickets each, which we endeavour to +sell. I sent two to Petherton, half-crown +ones. I forgot to enclose the +printed notice that usually accompanies +them, but evidently he recognised my +handwriting on the envelope, and sent +the tickets back. He wrote a letter +with them:—</p> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Sir,</span>—I received the enclosed, presumably +from you, because the almost +illegible scrawl on the envelope was +yours without a doubt. Why you +should try to bribe me with five shillings-worth +of tickets for the Annual +Concert I cannot conceive. Perhaps +you are going to sing at it and are +anxious that I should come to hear +you. I shall deny myself that pleasure. +I hear quite enough of you in the +afternoons (this, no doubt, referred to +the rehearsals). Should I change my +mind, which is unlikely, I am quite +able to purchase tickets. +</p> + +<p>I replied:—</p> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Dear Mr. Petherton,</span>—I am beginning +my letter, as you see, in the +formal way, but from your opening +move I foresee that a more affectionate +tone will supervene before we are +through with the matter in hand. This +will be in accordance with the immemorial +custom that has prevailed in +the delightful intercourse between us +on various subjects. Now, as to the +Concert. My suggestion, mutely expressed +through a little forgetfulness +on my part, missed fire. If this isn't +expressed clearly I mean I hoped you +would understand that I sent the +tickets because I hoped that you would +buy them. Or, to put the matter very +plainly, I sent you two tickets. Have +you 5<i>s.</i> that's doing nothing? If so, +send it me for goodness' sake, and keep +the tickets, which I'm sending back in +this. If the 5<i>s.</i> is busy with the War +Loan, don't disturb it of course, but +send me the tickets back, or sell them +to somebody else. I think that's all +clear, so now we'll get on to the next +point. I don't sing—outside a church. +I fancy it's Wright, the blacksmith, a +fine upstanding bass with full-throated +movement, that you can hear. He +leaves his spreading chestnut-tree on +Wednesdays and Fridays for rehearsals +in my drawing-room, and it's difficult +to keep his voice from straying over +into your premises, even with the +windows shut. I'm sorry if he annoys +you, but, anyway, as the Concert +takes place next Wednesday, he won't +worry you much longer. I hope you +will come in your group. I can send +you more tickets if you need them.</p> + +<p class="author1">Yours faithfully,</p> <p class="author"><span class="sc">H. J. Fordyce</span>.</p> + +<p class="ind">I hope your hens are fruit-bearing. +Eggs are a terrible price just now, +aren't they? +</p> + +<p>The tickets came back next day with +a curt note:—</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page413" id="page413"></a>[pg 413]</span> + +<p> +Mr. Petherton begs to return the +concert tickets and requests that Mr. +Fordyce will not send them back again, +as otherwise Mr. Petherton will not +hold himself responsible in the event +of their being lost or destroyed. +</p> + +<p>So I wrote again:—</p> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Dear Petherton,</span>—How perfectly +splendid! Everything has worked out +beautifully up till now. Your first +note was pitched in just the proper +key, and now comes your second, a +perfect gem in its way. Your style +reminds me more than ever of <span class="sc">Chesterfield</span>, +to whom a chair was a chair +and nothing more, but a couch was +an inspiration. I enclose two yellow +tickets this time. Perhaps you didn't +like the others. Some people don't +care for pink tickets. These jolly little +yellow chaps are only 1<i>s.</i> each, a consideration +in these hard times. +</p> + +<p class="author1">Yours very sincerely,</p> +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Harry Fordyce</span>.</p> + +<p class="ind"> +P.S.—We have a job line of green +tickets at 6<i>d.</i> each to clear. Perhaps +you would care to look at some. We +are selling quite a lot of them this year. +</p> + +<p>Petherton's reply to this was an +envelope containing the fragments of +two yellow tickets and a sheet of notepaper +inscribed "With Mr. Frederick +Petherton's compliments."</p> + +<p>As the tickets would have to be +accounted for, of course there was +nothing for it but to send him a bill, +so I sent him one:—</p> + +<p class="ind3"> +<span class="sc">F. Petherton</span>, Esq.,</p> + +<p class="ind3"><i>In a/c with the Purbury Concert +Committee.</i></p> + +<p class="ind3"><span class="outdent">To 2 tickets</span> in yellow cardboard, +3 in. by 2-1/2 in., printed in black, +with embellishments, the whole +giving right of entry to the +Purbury Annual Concert to be +held on June 28, 1916 ... 2<i>s.</i></p> + +<p class="ind3">Your kind attention will oblige. +</p> + +<p>To this Petherton made no reply, so +after a few days I bought the tickets +for (and from) myself, and wrote to +Petherton:—</p> + +<p> +<span class="sc">Dear Freddy,</span>—You will be glad to +hear that I have found someone to +take your yellow tickets off my hands +at the full market price. Sorry to find +that the War has hit you so badly. +Certainly two bob is two bob, as you +apparently wish me to infer. However +it is a blessing to know that the +Tommies will get the extra cigarettes, +isn't it? It's a pity you won't be at +the concert. Your cheery presence +will be greatly missed, especially by +</p> + +<p class="author1">Your old pal,</p> +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Harry</span>.</p> + +<p>The reply I received:—</p> + +<p> +Who the devil said I shouldn't be at +the concert? I bought a dozen pink +tickets from the Vicar as soon as I +heard you were not going to perform. +</p> + +<p class="author1"><span class="sc">Frederick Petherton.</span></p> + +<p>It seems evident that Petherton has +taken a dislike to me for some reason +or other.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/413-1500.png"><img src="images/413-600.png" width="600" height="397" alt="Doctor (to wounded soldier who is on 'low diet'). 'Is there anything you want, my lad?'" /></a> +<p><i>Doctor (to wounded soldier who is on "low diet").</i> "<span class="sc">Is +there anything you want, my lad?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Irishman.</i> "<span class="sc">Och, doctor, if ye'd be givin' me a nice fat goose for me +dinner, now?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Doctor.</i> "<span class="sc">Ah, and I suppose you'd like it stuffed with something +special, eh?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Irishman.</i> "<span class="sc">Indeed and I would. I'd like it stuffed with another +wan!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h4>"Latet Anguis in Herba."</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +"<span class="sc">Rock Plants</span> in pots; 12 different, 2s. 6d. +Cobra, rapid growing Climber, 4d. and 6d. +each.—Horticultural School, Swaythling." +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author2"><i>Provincial Paper.</i></p> + +<p class="ind1">Our gardening friends tell us that +<i>Cobæa scandeus</i> is much safer as a +horticultural pet.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="center">From a description of a mine explosion +under the German trenches:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Tons of earth were flung hundreds of feet +high, carrying away trenches, dugouts and +handbags." +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author2">—<i>Baltimore Paper.</i></p> + +<p class="ind1">The American correspondent who sends +us the cutting says, "I am glad to see +that the Hun is losing his grip."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page414" id="page414"></a>[pg 414]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">THE BOOKLOVER.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>By Charing Cross in London Town</p> +<p>There runs a road of high renown,</p> +<p>Where antique books are ranged on shelves</p> +<p>As dark and dusty as themselves.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And many booklovers have spent</p> +<p>Their substance there with great content,</p> +<p>And vexed their wives and filled their homes</p> +<p>With faded prints and massive tomes.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And ere I sailed to fight in France</p> +<p>There did I often woo Romance,</p> +<p>Searching for jewels in the dross,</p> +<p>Along the road to Charing Cross.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But booksellers and men of taste</p> +<p>Have fled the towns the Hun laid waste,</p> +<p>And within Ypres Cathedral square</p> +<p>I sought but found no bookshops there.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>What little hope have books to dwell</p> +<p>'Twixt Flemish mud and German shell?</p> +<p>Yet have I still upon my back,</p> +<p>Hid safely in my haversack,</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A tattered Horace, printed fine</p> +<p>(Anchor and Fish, the printer's sign),</p> +<p>Of sage advice, of classic wit;</p> +<p>Much wisdom have I gained from it.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And should I suffer sad mischance</p> +<p>When Summer brings the Great Advance,</p> +<p>I pray no cultured Bosch may bag</p> +<p>My Aldus print to swell his swag.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Yet would I rather ask of Fate</p> +<p>So to consider my estate,</p> +<p>That I may live to loiter down</p> +<p>By Charing Cross in London Town.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h4>The Reward of "Frightfulness."</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +"Amsterdam, Sunday.—Admiral von Tirpitz +has been offered the degree of doctor +hororis." +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author2">—<i>Provincial Paper.</i></p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h4>Taking it Badly.</h4> + +<blockquote><p class="center"> +"AUSTRIAN DEFENCES GRUMBLING +BEFORE THE RUSSIANS." +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author2"><i>Scotch Paper.</i></p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind3">"What is Port?" asks an evening +paper. According to Admiral <span class="sc">von +Scheer</span> it is "A very present help in +time of trouble."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h4>The Chameleon.</h4> + +<p class="ind3">From a feuilleton:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"The black sheep had flushed crimson, but +the hot colour soon died down leaving him +very pale." +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author2">—<i>The Daily Mirror.</i></p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<blockquote><p> +"Experienced nurses wanted immediately; +temporary £1 to 15<i>s.</i> weekly. Also excellent +situations for ladies' first babies, £40 to £28." +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author2"><i>Daily Paper.</i></p> + +<p class="ind2">The demand for juvenile labour is surely +being overdone.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">RUIN O' ENGLAND.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>At "The Plough and Horses."</i>)</h4> + +<p>"Upper classes be stirrin' o' theirselves +to rights now, seemin'ly."</p> + +<p>"'Ow be you meanin', George?"</p> + +<p>"Squire be by my place 'tother day +when I be 'avin' a bit o' quiet pipe by +my gate, same as you might be, Luther +Cherriman, an' 'e stops—which 'e ain't +been in the 'abit o' doin'—an' 'e says, +''Ullo, George,' 'e says, 'bain't you the +man as allus used to keep a pig ereabouts?' +An' I answers 'im as I cert'nly +did use to keep a pig pretty constant +when food-stuffs was cheaper than what +they be now."</p> + +<p>"What's 'e say to that, George?"</p> + +<p>"'E says, 'My good man, if you was +a bit more thrifty like, an' wasn't above +collectin' 'ouse'old scraps,' 'e says, 'an', +moreover, if you wasn't so blamed penny +wise an' poun' foolish,' 'e says, 'you'd +be keepin' y'r pigs—breedin' of 'em—now, +when you could get biggest price +for 'em. You'd be doin' o' y'rself a +good turn an' settin' a 'xample to y'r +neighbours,' 'e says, 'as they badly +needs. Well, any'ow, think it over,' +'e says—an' away 'e goes."</p> + +<p>"You been thinkin' it over, George?"</p> + +<p>"In a manner o' speakin' I be thinkin' +it over now, this very minute. In a +manner o' speakin' I were thinkin' it +over when I goes up to the Court over +a bit o' business yesterday. 'Owever, +I were really doin' no more 'n airin' my +mind, as you might say, to the Cook—a +decent 'nough young woman. I 'adn't +no idea o' nothin' more."</p> + +<p>"What you say to 'er, then?"</p> + +<p>"I were lookin' at a bit of a lawn +they 'as up there to the left o' their +back-door. Middlin' poor bit o' lawn +it be, not like them in front, an' I says +of it what I've often said afore. 'Too +much lawn to this 'ere 'ouse,' I says, 'to +please me. Ruin o' England,' I says, +'lawns do be. Orter be dug up,' I says. +'Sow a matter o' fower bushels o' taters,' +I says, 'on that poor little bit 'lone. +Don't like t' see all this waste o' groun',' +I says, 'an' us at war.'"</p> + +<p>"What did Cook say to that? Some'at +saucy, I be bound."</p> + +<p>"'You be very practical, George,' she +says, 'but food ain't everything, even in +times o' war. You did ought to have +seen wounded soldiers,' she says, 'settin' +'bout on all these 'ere lawns last summer +time, like a lot o' bluebottles, 'joyin' +o' theirselves to rights,' she says. 'An' +'ow could they a-done it, poor chaps,' +she says, 'if we'd 'ad nothin' but an +ol' tater patch to offer 'em?'"</p> + +<p>"You'd got y'r answer to that, I +dessay."</p> + +<p>"I 'ad. 'They soldier chaps could +very well 'ave sat on the paths,' I says—for +the paths be wasteful wide to my +thinkin'. 'A bit of a bench or a chair +or so, an' they'd 'ave been right as +rain, with some'at to look at as was +sensible, too. A close-cut lawn ain't no +manner o' interest to a thinkin' man, +not like a medder or a few rows o' good +early taters be.'"</p> + +<p>"What did Cook say to that 'ere?"</p> + +<p>"She laughs, an' she says, 'You be +done courtin' then, George, I can see. +You ain't got no thought of a second +wife, seemin'ly.' ''Ow d' you know +that?' I asks; an' she laughs again an' +says she knows, 'cos if 'twasn't so I'd +like the thought of a bit o' lawn to sit +out on warm evenings an' such. An' +then she says, 'You think too much +o' y'r stomach, George'—which fair +rattled me."</p> + +<p>"What you say?"</p> + +<p>"I says again, 'They lawns be the +ruin o' England, I tell ye'—an' then +I see 'er start an' go red 's a poppy, an' +then she sort o' plunges in at 'er door. +An' then I looks round for first time +an' I sees Squire standin' there, 'earin' +all as 'ad been said, an' for the moment +I'd 'ave been glad 'nough for a back-door +too—so I would."</p> + +<p>"Lord-a-mercy, George, you're a +rare-un for puttin' y'r foot in it wi' +gentry! What to gracious did 'e make +o' it?"</p> + +<p>"'E sort o' smiled—but crooked like. +An' then 'e says, 'No but what you're +right, George'—which were 'bout +'undred miles from what I 'spected +'im to say. 'Look 'ere,' 'e goes on, +'I'll make a bargain wi' ye. You send +me up 'alf-a-bushel o' seed potatoes,' +'e says, 'to start on, an' I'll send you a +young sow out o' the last litter. What +d' you say?'"</p> + +<p>"What did ye say?"</p> + +<p>"I says, 'Thank ye kindly, Sir. +An' if I've done my bit to save England +from ruin I be fine an' glad.' And so +I be."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h4>More Tampering with the Calendar.</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +"Among the objections to flag days is that +they have detracted from the novelty of Alexandra +Rose Day, which this year is being held +on June 31."—<i>Daily Paper.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="ind1">This attempt to shove Alexandra Day +right off the calendar, has, we are glad +to say, been unsuccessful; and to-day, +June 21st, sees roses, roses all the +way as usual.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>From a concert programme:—</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"<span class="sc">Ballet.</span> (for which Miss Gladys Groom</p> +<p class="i10"> has won the Challenge Cub in</p> +<p class="i10"> connection with Lady Rachel</p> +<p class="i10"> Byng's Olympic Game Tests)</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Song.</span> 'Show us how to do the Fox Trot'</p> +<p class="i10"> (Miss Ruby Groom and chorus)."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="ind2">It seems to us that Miss <span class="sc">Gladys's</span> reward +would have been more appropriate +to Miss <span class="sc">Ruby</span>.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page415" id="page415"></a>[pg 415]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/415-1500.png"><img src="images/415-600.png" width="600" height="348" alt="GIVEN AWAY." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">GIVEN AWAY.</h3> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> "<span class="sc">Mother, we oughtn't to be in this carriage, ought we? It's +first-class.</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Mother.</i> "<span class="sc">Oh, darling, you mean we ought to be economising in +war-time?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Boy.</i> "<span class="sc">But, Mother, we <i>are</i> economising, aren't we? We've only +got third-class tickets.</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks.</i>)</h4> + +<p>There is no doubt that one of the greatest pieces of luck +that has come the way of the Empire is <span class="sc">Louis Botha</span>. +Mr. <span class="sc">Harold Spender's</span> legitimately uncritical biography, +<i>General Botha: The Career and the Man</i> (<span class="sc">Constable</span>), fills +in the details of the romance; and astonishing details they +are. <span class="sc">Botha</span>, the anti-Krugerite, one of the seven in the +Volksraad who voted against the fateful ultimatum in +October, 1899, threw himself, when war was unavoidable, +with all his energy into the task of his country's defence. +Rapidly proving himself, he succeeded his sick chief, +<span class="sc">Joubert</span>, with at first, and luckily for us, a mitigated +authority. Here was no mere slim guerilla playing little +disconcerting tricks on a clumsy enemy, but a general to +respect, as <span class="sc">Buller</span> found at Colenso and <span class="sc">Benson</span> at +Bakenlaagte. And his staff college was just his own +occiput. When the inevitable end came, long delayed by +his and his brother-generals' skill and courage, he laboured +for a lasting peace, and took a line of steady fealty to the ideal +of British citizenship, which he has unfalteringly pursued +to this day. It is good, by the way, to recall the admirable +and patient diplomacy, at and after Vereeniging, of Lord +<span class="sc">Kitchener</span>, who was the chief pleader for generous concessions +to the gallant beaten enemy—an attitude <span class="sc">Botha</span> +never forgot. <span class="sc">Botha</span> is indeed the pilot of modern South +Africa—the first Premier of the Transvaal after the gift of +responsible government, the first Premier of the Union after +the federation of the four states. To him has fallen the honour +(and the task) of crushing the rebellion, wherein he had +the supreme wisdom to throw the burden upon the loyal +Dutch in order not to risk reopening racial bitterness by +using British elements against the rebels. He has entered +Windhuk a conqueror. May his old luck follow him in +the still difficult days of the youngest of the Dominions! +I've forgotten Mr. <span class="sc">Spender's</span> book. But of course this is +all out of it. And there's plenty more good stuff in it.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>I have for some time now had my prophetic eye upon +Mr. <span class="sc">J. C. Snaith</span> as a writer from whom uncommon things +were to be looked for. So it has pleased me to find this +belief entirely justified by <i>The Sailor</i> (<span class="sc">Smith</span>, <span class="sc">Elder</span>), +which is as good and absorbing a tale as anything I have +encountered this great while. It is the life-history of one +<i>Henry Harper</i> that Mr. <span class="sc">Snaith</span> sets out to tell; incidentally +it is also the record of the development of a popular +novelist out of a slum child, through such seemingly unpromising +stages as tramp-sailor and professional footballer. +There is a strength and (to use the most fitting term) +a punch about the telling of it that carries the reader +forward quite irresistibly. Moreover, like all histories of +expanding fortune, it is cheery reading for that sake alone. +Personally, I think I liked most the football section. I +knew from <i>Willow the King</i> that Mr. <span class="sc">Snaith</span> knew all about +cricket; for his football mastery I was unprepared. There +is a fresh poignancy in Mr. <span class="sc">Snaith's</span> handling of professional +sport in its most frankly gladiatorial aspect that gives one +a new sympathy with the young giants who are now +mostly engaged upon another and nobler contest. What I +I liked least about the book were the <i>Sailor's</i> two matrimonial +adventures. His entrapment by the detestable <i>Cora</i> is so +painful that perhaps I was glad to think it also slightly +incredible. Even the lady whose hand is his ultimate +great reward failed to rouse me to any enthusiasm. But +the <i>Sailor</i> himself is so human and likeable a figure that +he perhaps absorbed my interest to the exclusion of the +other characters, which I hope is as Mr. <span class="sc">Snaith</span> intended it.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page416" id="page416"></a>[pg 416]</span> + +<p>In <i>Verdun to the Vosges</i> (<span class="sc">Arnold</span>) <span class="sc">Mr. Gerald Campbell</span> +has paid a generous tribute to the indomitable courage of +our French Allies. His position as Special Correspondent +of <i>The Times</i> gave him opportunities—strictly limited, of +course, but unique—of recording in particular the earlier +phases of the War on the fortress frontier of France; and +he has produced a volume which shows no trace of civilian +authorship, except in those qualities which confess the art +of a trained writer. Never obtruding his own personality, +he gives us here and there a glimpse of privileged +experiences and happy relationships with the French +authorities, civil and military, notably the Préfet of Meurthe +et Moselle, whose letter to the author, published as an +epilogue, is a document of astounding force and eloquence. +If I have a complaint to make it is that in a serious history—the +kind that you must follow very closely on the map—Mr. +<span class="sc">Campbell</span> should have spent so much time on general +reflections and homilies which might just as well have been +compose in Fleet Street or the salient of Ypres. And it is +perhaps a pity that, where his subject gave him no chance +of dealing with his own +country's share in the +War, he should have exposed +at considerable +length certain defects in +the English character +which delayed the adoption +of national service. +It is true that universal +compulsion had not been +adopted at the time when +Mr. <span class="sc">Campbell</span> was writing, +and it is certain that +no one who knows the +good work he has done +in helping the two nations +to a better understanding +of one another will question +his motives; but I +think that these reflections +upon England, very +English in their candour, +have no proper place in a +history of the achievements +of France; and I hope that they may be cut out of +the French translation which is shortly to appear. For +the rest (and a good big rest) it is an enthralling book; and +if I were a Frenchman I should read it with a very great +pride. Even as it is, and notwithstanding what I have +said, I am proud enough that an Englishman should have +written it.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/416-1000.png"><img src="images/416-600.png" width="600" height="434" alt="Painful predicament of Mnemo, the world-famed memoriser,..." /></a> +<p><span class="sc">Painful predicament of Mnemo, the world-famed memoriser, +who, after a hard day at a matinee and two evening performances, +forgets the name and number of his house.</span></p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p><i>The Scratch Pack</i> (<span class="sc">Hutchinson</span>) is another of those +jovial, out-door stories, for which Miss <span class="sc">Dorothea Conyers</span> +has already endeared herself to a considerable public. As +before, her scene is Ireland. It is somewhere on the south +coast of that emotional island that a maiden called <i>Gheena +Freyne</i> determines, in the war-absence of the local M.F.H., +to do her bit by dealing faithfully with the foxes, who are +rather above themselves through neglect. So she, and one +<i>Darby Dillon</i>, who is crippled and unable to do anything but +ride (and adore <i>Gheena</i>), get together a very scratch pack +of the farmers' foot-dogs. What sport results, and how +buoyantly it is told, those with experience of Miss <span class="sc">Conyers'</span> +vigorous gifts can easily imagine. There is however another +thread to the story. A second suitor pervades the scene, +one <i>Basil Stafford</i>, who, though hale and vigorous, persists, +even under white-feather provocation, in an attitude of +taciturn reserve about the War. Also he takes mysterious +walks at night on the cliffs, somewhere off which a German +submarine is said to be hiding, <i>Gheena</i> accordingly suspects +him of being (i) a shirker, (ii) a spy. Apparently, as +far as young ladies on the South coast of Ireland are concerned, +Messrs. <span class="sc">Vedrenne</span> and <span class="sc">Eadie</span> have simply lived +in vain. The more sophisticated reader, while not sharing +<i>Gheena's</i> astonishment at the climax, will none the less +enjoy some pleasant thrills that lead up to it. In short +<i>The Scratch Pack</i> can show you an excellent day's sport.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p>I suppose we owe our grotesquely insular ignorance of +the Art of Russia (other than music) to the fact that hitherto +no one has been so enterprising as <span class="sc">Rosa Newmarch</span>. In +<i>The Russian Arts</i> (<span class="sc">Jenkins</span>), she sets out to give us a brief +history of painting in Russia, from the ikon to the Futurist +diagram, with a preamble on architecture and a postscript +on sculpture. It is indeed a dismal thing to be brought to +realise, even from quite inadequate illustrations in monochrome +half-tone, that one does not know anything of such +artists as <span class="sc">Repin</span> and <span class="sc">Nesterof</span>—to take but two widely +differing types of a notable +family. Art, such triumphant +art, say, as the ballet +with the gorgeous scenic +accessories that we know, +does not spring into being +without ancestry, and this +book gives us some notes +on artistic pedigree—enough +perhaps to save us +from abject shame when, +after this war, we sit at +dinner next some knowledgeable +Russian guest.... +And this is likely +often to happen. It is +odd that Mrs. <span class="sc">Newmarch</span> +seems to be interested in +the literary rather than +the graphic content of the +pictures she describes—odd +because she seems to +know the painter's creed.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h4>An Impending Apology.</h4> + +<p class="center">Extract from a soldier's letter recently received by the +wife of a distinguished retired officer:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"Please tell Colonel W—— I was asking for him. Tell him this is +a rough war, not the same as in his time. It is all brains now, and +machinery." +</p></blockquote> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="center">Extract from <i>The Seamanship Manual</i>, vol. ii., chap, vii., +"Disembarking Troops":—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"This method is satisfactory for horses, mules, or cattle, but does +not answer with the camel. The latter, if not drowned on the way +ashore, is very little use when landed." +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="ind1">This disparaging remark about the "ship of the desert" +is attributable, we fear, to professional jealousy.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<blockquote><p> +"The impression I carried away was that the Kiel Canal was a +splendid bit of engineering, and that in case of war it would be invaluable, +not only as a refuge for the German Fleet, but also as a +quick means of getting the Kiel squadron quickly into the North +Sea, or <i>vice versâ</i>."—<i>Sunday Chronicle.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p class="ind1">The British Fleet has proved even better than the Kiel +Canal as a quick means of accomplishing the vice-versá +operation.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<blockquote><p class="center"> + +"The last sale of home mad cooking will take place on Saturday."</p> +</blockquote> + +<p class="author2"><i>Avonlea Advocate (Saskatchewan).</i></p> + +<p class="ind2">If only it were the last!</p> +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +150, June 21st, 1916, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON *** + +***** This file should be named 38899-h.htm or 38899-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/8/9/38899/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Lesley Halamek and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://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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